I'm not sure what to call it, this period after and between.It's quieter, more still, than the inside of a Category 7 hurricane.
Yes, yes, I know. Hurricanes are only ranked to Cat-5, but this is even quieter than an eye inside of that. According to Wikipedia, the eye of a hurricane is relatively quiet - and that's how this feels, this time after her passing and... whatever will come next.
For the two weeks immediately following Charlotte's demise, between work and home, I was too busy to really think or feel. In the past week, though, things at home have quieted a bit. Work is still crazed and perhaps that's the issue, but then again... I'm not sure.
For a while, a period of a couple of days in the past seven, I felt empty, like I had nothing inside - no feeling, no nothing.
Charlotte had depression - constant unhappiness or at least dissatisfaction with Life. Her expression gave it away - hand to forehead when she sat in her chair. Even while she ate her drooping eyelids and lips gave a picture of her unhappiness. I can visualize her now, looking miserable. She was agoraphobic, hated leaving the house and disliked having people she didn't know around her.
I haven't felt like that, but the empty feeling, the non-feeling, made me wonder for a time if her spirit had somehow taken control of mine. It was... quiet. Too quiet for me because calm is normal, quiet and disinterested is not. I'm a doer - always wanting to have hands and mind busy even while my eyes are watching something else (hockey and baseball right now) - so the lack of interest in anything had me worried.
For three weeks I haven't wanted to write. I haven't wanted to do anything on the computer, at all, and that is not like me. In the end, I made myself, using force and pressure, to write the post about her passing. Then I wanted to write nothing again. None of my stories, none of the posts here, nothing, and it was worrying.
Today, though, for the first time in several weeks, I feel compelled to write - to say something and give voice to thoughts. Is this the beginning? A re-genesis or re-birth of my writing and interest in creating scenes and characters and developing stories in which I can live for a time? I don't know.
I do know that tomorrow is going to be a reversion to the past few weeks. We still have the garage to go through and clear out, and then the house will be done. I'm pretending the laundry room isn't there but that's a simple matter of Windex, vacuum and a thirty minute window of time.
We'll see. For now, for this moment, this is enough.
I hope to be back. We'll see.
Best~
Philippa
Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/PhilippaStories
Friday, May 20, 2016
Wednesday, May 11, 2016
There's Equality & Then There's...
I've got my ear plugs ready and waiting. I suspect that in a couple of weeks or less, the screeches from a large part of the female population, mostly leftists, are going to become painfully loud.
Already, a number of go-along-to-get-along voices on the right are warning Trump to 'tone it down' or 'dial it back'. Unfortunately for them, and fortunately for those of us who don't get upset when he says 'boo', it ain't gonna happen. Trump is going to be Trump and that's why I'll vote for him. Twice if I could.
The deal is, I don't want what the women who constantly rant about 'equality' want in our next president. I want a man with a set leading this country, not a spineless wuss who is likeable.
I have no doubt that these same women do not expect or want Hilliary to be polite and sincere and nice to Trump. You can wager that Hilliary is going to come out and play that woman card for all it's worth, until it's all worn out, and Trump is going to meet her right there, in the middle. She is going to be nasty and unpleasant, she is going to pull out all the stops and do what she's always done when confronted by an adversary. As my hubby would say, and as I agree with him having paid attention to her and her antics for the past twenty-five years or so, she is going to 'bitch out' and it is not going to be pleasant to see.
Based on her approach, Trump is not going to sit back, hold the door and be a 'gentleman'. Trump is going to treat Hilliary exactly as he would treat a male opponent in this upcoming race. It doesn't get more equal than that so all I can and will say to the women who take umbrage at his manner of expression, brace yourselves. It's going to get a whole lot worse than it's been. If you want equality, you are going to get it. In spades and, when it comes, don't you dare complain about it. It's what you've said you want so suck it up and get over it.
You see, my attitude toward him and his rhetoric is simple: I am not dating him. My daughter is not dating him. Neither of us are living with him. He is not someone I cook for, clean for, do laundry for. I don't go home to him at the end of the day, and it's a good thing I don't because I don't like a lot of what he says or the manner in which he says it. Therefore, because I have that arm's length relationship, I do not have to like him.
In my view, that's the difference between 'women' and 'girls'.
Women recognize that we don't have to love or admire the male, that we can take his verbal bullying and coarse actions. We can let it pass over us because we're bigger than the words.
Girls don't get that. They get knickerknotted at the first 'mean' or unpleasant thing someone says - as if it's a personal assault. As if they're that important.
Now, with that said, the flip side is what I do like about him. He has the courage of his convictions. When he thinks he's right, he's ready, willing and able to drive a stake into the ground and say, "here". If he thinks he's right, he's not going to back down and bow to the popular sway of the masses - he will do what he thinks is right. He will also, however (and this is BIG), listen to his advisers. He's done it in his business, which is why his primary business is as successful as it is, and I have every confidence he will when it comes to the presidency. It's already showing in how he's pivoting in this election.
He's no longer using the same inflammatory rhetoric he was a couple of months ago. He's begun making reasoned speeches, using the ever-popular teleprompters so he's sure to stay on message. He's already stated that he wants someone with political cred to be his VP - and that is a very smart move.
When people say that Trump "isn't nice" it annoys me to no end because we are not voting for Prom King in this election. This is not supposed to be a popularity contest. We are not voting for Nicest Dude or Cleanest Mouth or Most Polite in Company. We are voting for a leader - someone who is going to take his place on the world stage, nominally at the head of the table. We do not need a "nice guy" who's going to wring his hands and waffle at every bad turn. We need someone decisive, someone who is going to put our interests first, for a change. We need someone with the stones to go toe-to-toe with the bad actors on this planet and out-bully them - not back down and cower in a corner someplace. Although I'm not entirely sure the Oval Office has corners...
All I hope is that the first wave of cacophony from the scorched females in this country won't deafen me at the outset, that I'll have time to get the earplugs in place before the second caterwaul.
Now - have a lovely and quiet day.
Best~
Philippa
Follow me on Twitter:
Already, a number of go-along-to-get-along voices on the right are warning Trump to 'tone it down' or 'dial it back'. Unfortunately for them, and fortunately for those of us who don't get upset when he says 'boo', it ain't gonna happen. Trump is going to be Trump and that's why I'll vote for him. Twice if I could.
The deal is, I don't want what the women who constantly rant about 'equality' want in our next president. I want a man with a set leading this country, not a spineless wuss who is likeable.
I have no doubt that these same women do not expect or want Hilliary to be polite and sincere and nice to Trump. You can wager that Hilliary is going to come out and play that woman card for all it's worth, until it's all worn out, and Trump is going to meet her right there, in the middle. She is going to be nasty and unpleasant, she is going to pull out all the stops and do what she's always done when confronted by an adversary. As my hubby would say, and as I agree with him having paid attention to her and her antics for the past twenty-five years or so, she is going to 'bitch out' and it is not going to be pleasant to see.
Based on her approach, Trump is not going to sit back, hold the door and be a 'gentleman'. Trump is going to treat Hilliary exactly as he would treat a male opponent in this upcoming race. It doesn't get more equal than that so all I can and will say to the women who take umbrage at his manner of expression, brace yourselves. It's going to get a whole lot worse than it's been. If you want equality, you are going to get it. In spades and, when it comes, don't you dare complain about it. It's what you've said you want so suck it up and get over it.
You see, my attitude toward him and his rhetoric is simple: I am not dating him. My daughter is not dating him. Neither of us are living with him. He is not someone I cook for, clean for, do laundry for. I don't go home to him at the end of the day, and it's a good thing I don't because I don't like a lot of what he says or the manner in which he says it. Therefore, because I have that arm's length relationship, I do not have to like him.
In my view, that's the difference between 'women' and 'girls'.
Women recognize that we don't have to love or admire the male, that we can take his verbal bullying and coarse actions. We can let it pass over us because we're bigger than the words.
Girls don't get that. They get knickerknotted at the first 'mean' or unpleasant thing someone says - as if it's a personal assault. As if they're that important.
Now, with that said, the flip side is what I do like about him. He has the courage of his convictions. When he thinks he's right, he's ready, willing and able to drive a stake into the ground and say, "here". If he thinks he's right, he's not going to back down and bow to the popular sway of the masses - he will do what he thinks is right. He will also, however (and this is BIG), listen to his advisers. He's done it in his business, which is why his primary business is as successful as it is, and I have every confidence he will when it comes to the presidency. It's already showing in how he's pivoting in this election.
He's no longer using the same inflammatory rhetoric he was a couple of months ago. He's begun making reasoned speeches, using the ever-popular teleprompters so he's sure to stay on message. He's already stated that he wants someone with political cred to be his VP - and that is a very smart move.
When people say that Trump "isn't nice" it annoys me to no end because we are not voting for Prom King in this election. This is not supposed to be a popularity contest. We are not voting for Nicest Dude or Cleanest Mouth or Most Polite in Company. We are voting for a leader - someone who is going to take his place on the world stage, nominally at the head of the table. We do not need a "nice guy" who's going to wring his hands and waffle at every bad turn. We need someone decisive, someone who is going to put our interests first, for a change. We need someone with the stones to go toe-to-toe with the bad actors on this planet and out-bully them - not back down and cower in a corner someplace. Although I'm not entirely sure the Oval Office has corners...
All I hope is that the first wave of cacophony from the scorched females in this country won't deafen me at the outset, that I'll have time to get the earplugs in place before the second caterwaul.
Now - have a lovely and quiet day.
Best~
Philippa
Follow me on Twitter:
Monday, May 9, 2016
The Loneliest Journey
It's one we all face, and one we will all accomplish by ourselves - no company even if they're holding our hand. It's intensely personal, unique, and must be done by ourselves, inside our deepest places.
MIL passed last Thursday morning - alone as we all are at that time, even when surrounded by loved ones, friends, family or caregivers. She went peacefully after being ill for a long time. We had a chance to say "I'm sorry" and "I love you", the closing things we all wish to say but sometimes don't get the chance to express. There were "I'm sorry" statements, too, which is as it should be since none of us are perfect and all of us trip over another's feelings from time-to-time.
Three times I've been through this immediately, and each has been different, unique.
First with my Dad, whose hand I held until he made it clear he wanted to be left to finish by himself. He was surrounded by family: my mom, his wife of just three weeks shy of fifty years, two daughters, grandchildren and a future son-in-law and a then daughter-in-law. He fought until he couldn't any more, but he was comfortable and assured by each of us, 'it's okay, you can let go'.
The second time was with my father-in-law, who died in the arms of my MIL of a massive heart attack - dead almost before he hit the floor. No one was there but the two of them. By the time I got there the EMTs had left, the Sheriff's deputies were still there, milling around while forensics made sure nothing unusual had happened. MIL was deeply shocked - pale-faced and watching in numb horror while they did what they had to.
When it was all over, I got her to bed and set to working out my frustration with the situation by scrubbing their house.
The third time was last Thursday.
For months, she couldn't get up on her own, walk on her own. Hubby waited on her, literally, hand and foot. Always at her beck and call, up at all hours of the night to check on her, help her, change her, wash her, feed her. Over time she lost interest. First the radio, then the television. Her appetite changed until she was barely eating and had to be hand fed. Finally, she stopped eating and resisted drinking.
In the end she slipped away peacefully, alone while I was on my way back from work where I had gone to pick up some things to do if the wait was longer than a few hours, and while hubby was outside, hanging laundry on the line. He came in and found her, then called me.
The requirements, the small necessary ceremonies of removal, the quiet moments while we absorbed the sudden change in our lives. Phone calls and e-mails to family and friends, closing those doors on a life. That led into the frenetic, almost manic release of anger and fear and grief.
For the past four days, from almost as soon as the funeral home took her body away until yesterday afternoon we cleaned. First, the living room that had been her bedroom for the past four years, then spreading out from there. The downstairs of our house hasn't been this clean since before we moved in, and there's still the upstairs to do. But that's for next weekend.
A chance to work out the anger and fear, a chance to purge ourselves of things she had brought that we never wanted. Along the way we discovered things we didn't even know we had - glassware and some appliances. Things were donated, others were tossed, none will be missed because they were never "ours". They belonged to Charlotte.
There, her name: Charlotte. Not MIL anymore since she has achieved the anonymity of death.
There is no true grieving for me. We weren't close. We lived together, ate meals together, spoke together for the better part of ten years, more than thirty-five as part of an in-law family, but we never bonded, even though we shared a house.
She was too private, too closed-in to let me get to know her inner-self. Conversation was question and answer - she asking and taking while I answered and gave. There was no back-and-forth, no meeting of the minds or expressions of self. After a time, I gave up, settling for doing for her as much as I could, as much as she would allow.
Hubby has mixed feelings. Sadness that released in wild bouts of grief before the fact, when he saw and knew what was coming. More grief and shock after she was gone. Then came a relief, a knowing she wasn't needing his help any more, that she is more comfortable now than she was just a few days ago. No more pain, no more blindness, no more waiting for what we all knew was coming.
Friday we visited the funeral home, another ceremony of signing off on her last wishes - a private ripple that won't include anyone not required. I don't even know what she wanted, except for cremation and not being on the shelf next to her hubby's box. Which we still need to figure out what to do with.
There were periods of quiet, peaceful moments, too. Times for hubby and me to sit and speak, to look around and sigh.
The medical equipment was picked up. Her bed and other furniture are in the garage until we decide what to do with them. More doors closing on what was.
We have our house back. It no longer contains all the things - big and small - that she "had" to have around her when she moved in. For ten years it looked like a Victorian parlour - overcrowded and cluttered. Now, for a change, we can decide for ourselves how we want things to be.
One of the first things we did was to restart the clocks - the grandfather clocks (two of them - one was hers and her husbands, one is ours), the pendulum clocks that give our house its heartbeat but that had been stilled because it was too loud at night for her to sleep. It's back, ticking and tocking, giving life to rooms that had been too still since Thursday morning.
For myself, I feel quiet, accepting. I think of Charlotte as a young woman, dancing, light and free of all that weighed her down on Earth. I wish that for her because it's her due.
Best~
Philippa
Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/PhilippaStories
MIL passed last Thursday morning - alone as we all are at that time, even when surrounded by loved ones, friends, family or caregivers. She went peacefully after being ill for a long time. We had a chance to say "I'm sorry" and "I love you", the closing things we all wish to say but sometimes don't get the chance to express. There were "I'm sorry" statements, too, which is as it should be since none of us are perfect and all of us trip over another's feelings from time-to-time.
Three times I've been through this immediately, and each has been different, unique.
First with my Dad, whose hand I held until he made it clear he wanted to be left to finish by himself. He was surrounded by family: my mom, his wife of just three weeks shy of fifty years, two daughters, grandchildren and a future son-in-law and a then daughter-in-law. He fought until he couldn't any more, but he was comfortable and assured by each of us, 'it's okay, you can let go'.
The second time was with my father-in-law, who died in the arms of my MIL of a massive heart attack - dead almost before he hit the floor. No one was there but the two of them. By the time I got there the EMTs had left, the Sheriff's deputies were still there, milling around while forensics made sure nothing unusual had happened. MIL was deeply shocked - pale-faced and watching in numb horror while they did what they had to.
When it was all over, I got her to bed and set to working out my frustration with the situation by scrubbing their house.
The third time was last Thursday.
For months, she couldn't get up on her own, walk on her own. Hubby waited on her, literally, hand and foot. Always at her beck and call, up at all hours of the night to check on her, help her, change her, wash her, feed her. Over time she lost interest. First the radio, then the television. Her appetite changed until she was barely eating and had to be hand fed. Finally, she stopped eating and resisted drinking.
In the end she slipped away peacefully, alone while I was on my way back from work where I had gone to pick up some things to do if the wait was longer than a few hours, and while hubby was outside, hanging laundry on the line. He came in and found her, then called me.
The requirements, the small necessary ceremonies of removal, the quiet moments while we absorbed the sudden change in our lives. Phone calls and e-mails to family and friends, closing those doors on a life. That led into the frenetic, almost manic release of anger and fear and grief.
For the past four days, from almost as soon as the funeral home took her body away until yesterday afternoon we cleaned. First, the living room that had been her bedroom for the past four years, then spreading out from there. The downstairs of our house hasn't been this clean since before we moved in, and there's still the upstairs to do. But that's for next weekend.
A chance to work out the anger and fear, a chance to purge ourselves of things she had brought that we never wanted. Along the way we discovered things we didn't even know we had - glassware and some appliances. Things were donated, others were tossed, none will be missed because they were never "ours". They belonged to Charlotte.
There, her name: Charlotte. Not MIL anymore since she has achieved the anonymity of death.
There is no true grieving for me. We weren't close. We lived together, ate meals together, spoke together for the better part of ten years, more than thirty-five as part of an in-law family, but we never bonded, even though we shared a house.
She was too private, too closed-in to let me get to know her inner-self. Conversation was question and answer - she asking and taking while I answered and gave. There was no back-and-forth, no meeting of the minds or expressions of self. After a time, I gave up, settling for doing for her as much as I could, as much as she would allow.
Hubby has mixed feelings. Sadness that released in wild bouts of grief before the fact, when he saw and knew what was coming. More grief and shock after she was gone. Then came a relief, a knowing she wasn't needing his help any more, that she is more comfortable now than she was just a few days ago. No more pain, no more blindness, no more waiting for what we all knew was coming.
Friday we visited the funeral home, another ceremony of signing off on her last wishes - a private ripple that won't include anyone not required. I don't even know what she wanted, except for cremation and not being on the shelf next to her hubby's box. Which we still need to figure out what to do with.
There were periods of quiet, peaceful moments, too. Times for hubby and me to sit and speak, to look around and sigh.
The medical equipment was picked up. Her bed and other furniture are in the garage until we decide what to do with them. More doors closing on what was.
We have our house back. It no longer contains all the things - big and small - that she "had" to have around her when she moved in. For ten years it looked like a Victorian parlour - overcrowded and cluttered. Now, for a change, we can decide for ourselves how we want things to be.
One of the first things we did was to restart the clocks - the grandfather clocks (two of them - one was hers and her husbands, one is ours), the pendulum clocks that give our house its heartbeat but that had been stilled because it was too loud at night for her to sleep. It's back, ticking and tocking, giving life to rooms that had been too still since Thursday morning.
For myself, I feel quiet, accepting. I think of Charlotte as a young woman, dancing, light and free of all that weighed her down on Earth. I wish that for her because it's her due.
Best~
Philippa
Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/PhilippaStories
Monday, May 2, 2016
End of Life is a Cast-Iron Bitch
The past few weeks have been horrible, and they're about to get worse.
My MIL, as I've mentioned before, is eighty-seven - a bad eighty-seven because she didn't take care of herself when she was younger. Her body has been holding on even though her mind has been pretty much gone for years. Now her body is failing and we're facing the hard decisions children have to make for people for whom we care. It sucks, big time.
I was lucky because I grew up in a household where no one pretended that death didn't happen. We didn't discuss it, but it wasn't hushed up or glossed over either.
There were the family pets buried in the backyard with due ceremony.
Early memories that I have are of my grandmother sitting in a chair in what became my brother's room and, sometime later, standing at my bedroom window (where, I'm sure, my mom had told me to stay) watching an ambulance pull away from the house with her on a stretcher. I never saw her again but I remember the morning of the funeral - I was playing on the floor of my parent's bedroom with blocks and they were talking about whether I was old enough to go to the service. I didn't go to the service, so I was young enough not to be reasonable.
When I was in grade school, the older brother of a classmate died of an aneurysm.
It was there, around us, and recognized so while I feared it when I was younger, I understood that it happens to everyone. I've come to terms with it and, while it's not fun or pleasant, it also doesn't have to be dramatic.
I was there when my dad passed. He was surrounded by loving family - my mom, three of his four children and grandchildren.
My mom passed surrounded by most of the family when I was trying out for a new job - I couldn't be there but knowing my mom I knew precisely what she would say: "You do what you need to do. I'll be fine." Which is why I can write that, four years after her death, and not feel anything but the smallest pang of remorse. The remorse being because I feel as if I let her down, even though I know in my heart that she understood.
Hubby, however, is an only child. He never had to deal directly with the end-of-life stuff. One grandmother died in Oklahoma when he was here, in California. The other died in Los Angeles while he was in the northern part of the state. His father died, unexpectedly, when he was out of town.
Now he is facing the reality directly because MIL is dying right in front of his eyes.
Since she was released from the hospital in early April we've had nurses coming every-other-day to check on her, make sure she's improving. For three weeks I've seen what's happening - the lack of any improvement, a decline in function and ability to speak, but kept my mouth shut.
Today, the nurse said what I've recognized - we're in the end-game. Of course hubby is having a hard time coping. It's his mom and he's never had to deal with anything like this before. I also know that it's going to get harder once the initial shock passes him by. For now, though, he's going through the motions.
We had a conference call - hubby, the nurse (who is a marvel - someone who I met just the other day and instantly knew I would like to get to know as a friend) and me. The nurse recommended Hospice and I seconded it because they do such stellar work. I saw it with my Dad and recommend it to everyone and anyone dealing with a family member's End of Days. Hubby acceded to the idea - for the moment.
By the time I get home tonight I know what's going to have happened. He'll have passed through shock and probably through anger (although that's not a guarantee). Then I'll have to cope with denial. But, as I said to him on the phone, she is far enough gone that she is not going to improve, let alone get wholly better. There has been a steady decline in her physical and mental functions for weeks - and now it's time to make her comfortable, to give her the care that will ease her into that next stage.
Not fun, not pleasant, but the only thing we can all expect in this life and it sucks.
Philippa
Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/PhilippaStories
My MIL, as I've mentioned before, is eighty-seven - a bad eighty-seven because she didn't take care of herself when she was younger. Her body has been holding on even though her mind has been pretty much gone for years. Now her body is failing and we're facing the hard decisions children have to make for people for whom we care. It sucks, big time.
I was lucky because I grew up in a household where no one pretended that death didn't happen. We didn't discuss it, but it wasn't hushed up or glossed over either.
There were the family pets buried in the backyard with due ceremony.
Early memories that I have are of my grandmother sitting in a chair in what became my brother's room and, sometime later, standing at my bedroom window (where, I'm sure, my mom had told me to stay) watching an ambulance pull away from the house with her on a stretcher. I never saw her again but I remember the morning of the funeral - I was playing on the floor of my parent's bedroom with blocks and they were talking about whether I was old enough to go to the service. I didn't go to the service, so I was young enough not to be reasonable.
When I was in grade school, the older brother of a classmate died of an aneurysm.
It was there, around us, and recognized so while I feared it when I was younger, I understood that it happens to everyone. I've come to terms with it and, while it's not fun or pleasant, it also doesn't have to be dramatic.
I was there when my dad passed. He was surrounded by loving family - my mom, three of his four children and grandchildren.
My mom passed surrounded by most of the family when I was trying out for a new job - I couldn't be there but knowing my mom I knew precisely what she would say: "You do what you need to do. I'll be fine." Which is why I can write that, four years after her death, and not feel anything but the smallest pang of remorse. The remorse being because I feel as if I let her down, even though I know in my heart that she understood.
Hubby, however, is an only child. He never had to deal directly with the end-of-life stuff. One grandmother died in Oklahoma when he was here, in California. The other died in Los Angeles while he was in the northern part of the state. His father died, unexpectedly, when he was out of town.
Now he is facing the reality directly because MIL is dying right in front of his eyes.
Since she was released from the hospital in early April we've had nurses coming every-other-day to check on her, make sure she's improving. For three weeks I've seen what's happening - the lack of any improvement, a decline in function and ability to speak, but kept my mouth shut.
Today, the nurse said what I've recognized - we're in the end-game. Of course hubby is having a hard time coping. It's his mom and he's never had to deal with anything like this before. I also know that it's going to get harder once the initial shock passes him by. For now, though, he's going through the motions.
We had a conference call - hubby, the nurse (who is a marvel - someone who I met just the other day and instantly knew I would like to get to know as a friend) and me. The nurse recommended Hospice and I seconded it because they do such stellar work. I saw it with my Dad and recommend it to everyone and anyone dealing with a family member's End of Days. Hubby acceded to the idea - for the moment.
By the time I get home tonight I know what's going to have happened. He'll have passed through shock and probably through anger (although that's not a guarantee). Then I'll have to cope with denial. But, as I said to him on the phone, she is far enough gone that she is not going to improve, let alone get wholly better. There has been a steady decline in her physical and mental functions for weeks - and now it's time to make her comfortable, to give her the care that will ease her into that next stage.
Not fun, not pleasant, but the only thing we can all expect in this life and it sucks.
Philippa
Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/PhilippaStories
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