I Didn't Even Remember.....

 It was the morning of May 19, Wednesday, and I couldn't sleep which is nothing new to me.  I had tossed and turned and finally picked up my phone off the bedside table.  I checked FB, emails, text messages, and finally looked at FB again.

This time I clicked on the Memories button.  As I scrolled through posts and pictures from years past, I was stunned by one.  It was a picture of Mom and Dad's gravestone in the Wooster cemetery.  I looked at it and I was 'stunned' that I had a picture of it on my Memories for that day.  Soon I replaced the phone on the bedside table, rolled over, and returned to sleep.

The next morning when I checked FB again, Hilary had posted a Memory, text and pictures, of Tessa and her program for her last day of pre-school at Geetingsvile.  As I looked at the post and the pictures, the wheels began to churn again, then it all made sense to me.

I didn't really remember much about her program that day.  Hilary and Blaine were not pleased with the things that were happening with the instructors there and their treatment of Tessa, so they were contemplating moving her to a different pre-school for the next year.  But I don't remember much else.

You know the way the brain works.....suddenly I remembered.  The pieces fell into place.  Early that Friday morning, as we were getting ready for the trip to Pymont to go with Hilary and Blaine to Tessa's program, the phone rang.  I was in Megan's old bedroom, picking out the clothes I would wear, when Gary answered the upstairs phone.   I knew from his voice what had happened.  It was Greta.  Late the previous night the nurses had called her from the hospital and strongly suggested that she come to be with Mom.  Sometime in the night Mom took her last breath and passed into the next world.  I remember Greta telling me that she sat there for a while before pushing the button to summon the nurse because she wanted to be sure Mom was gone...not breathing....dead.  

Somehow I finished dressing.  I imagine I called the girls to tell them.  I don't remember much at all about Tessa's program.  In fact when I looked at the pictures Hilary posted, I didn't recall anything about it except that I know we were there and that Jan and Fred both said something to me about being sorry to hear that Mom had died.  I do remember returning to Hilary and Blaine's house and calling my cousins. I remember both Dale and Ralph telling me that they loved me.

Thinking back on seeing the picture of the tombstone filled in a few more pieces, but I had to look at it again.  Then the 'thud' when the impact hit me again.  Mom died four years ago that day.  I didn't even remember it.

As NYEve approaches each year, Dad is always on my mind.  I have a tough time the morning of that day, remembering Mom's call to us at the hotel, standing with the hospice worker over the toilet and pouring the remaining tablets of Dad's medications, then flushing.  I remember standing in the living room and watching the two funeral directors carry Dad out of the house on the gurney, his thin, frail body totally lifeless.

On March 31 many memories flood my mind as I recall Leo's death.  The phone call from Agnes as we were getting ready to take her and Dad to the doctor's appointment for the results of her biopsy.  Seeing the red lights flashing as the ambulance sat in the drive at the house while I was speeding down 14 trying to get there.  Listening to Keith Hauptli tell Gary that his dad was gone, that taking him to the hospital was a formality since the fire dept couldn't pronounce him dead.  Trying to think of a response to Agnes when she kept saying that Dad was going to be SO upset that we were taking him to the hospital in Winamac since he really disliked that hospital and why couldn't we go to Monticello or Lafayette.  All the time she was questioning us, I was trying to text E. Anne that we needed Jim at the hospital.

In November the memories return from the days I spent with Agnes during her hospice care.  It was another phone call from Sandy in the wee hours of early morning that cold November day.  We were in the room with her when Sandy fed her some ice chips, turned to talk to us and the hospice nurse, then turned back to check on her mom and learned that there was no breath, that she had died.

But Mom?  There was no approach of the date with a countdown or a remembrance of 'what was I doing four years ago today before Mom died.'  Nothing.  It didn't even really hit me when I saw the picture of the tombstone in my FB Memories.

Am I a bad daughter?  Or even worse, I am just a bad person all around?

I posed that question to Hilary and she said no, that as part of the pain of that day, I had blocked it out.  Megan said nothing about it at all; neither did Greta. 

One of the Dotti's friends mentioned that she never remembers The Date; rather, she remembers good times, favorite sayings or words of wisdom, or conversations they had, plus how much she misses her mom.

With my mom?  Good times were rare.  Words of wisdom?  Not from my mom.  More like criticisms and blasts of things I had done wrong that she never forgot.  Conversations?  Oh yes.  I do remember them, but the dialogues are not pleasant memories.  Who wants to remember "You might have TWO degrees, but you have NO COMMON SENSE!"  And missing my mom?  I don't.  Not once have I wished I could pick up the phone and call her.  Never have I thought about things I need to take along to show here on our next trip to Wooster.  

No, I didn't remember.  And what bothers me now is that I am more upset that I didn't remember than I am about her death.

Don't Listen to Me!

 His hair needs to be washed.

He needs a haircut.

He has been in the hospital for nearly a week.

He can't bend because it would cause too much pressure on his eye.

Me:  You really need a haircut and your hair washed.  How about if I call Jill (my new stylist in Rossville) or Kristine (Cooper's stylist in Rossville) or even Amy (his former stylist in Winamac) or Lindsey (my former stylist in Francesville) for an appointment and you can have your hair washed in the shampoo bowl and a professional haircut, then you can go back to having Hilary cut it?

Gary:  NO  I can lean back in the sink and you can wash it

Later....

Me:  Can't I just call Jill or Kristine and make an appointment for you?

Gary:  NO!  We can do it at home.

Later.....

Me:  I really think it would be better if I called Jill or Kristine...

Gary: No!  It will be fine.

Me: But your eye can't be wet and your shoulder can't be wet and your foot can't be wet and this would be so much easier.

Gary:  No!  It will be fine to do it at home.

Later....after eating dinner around the dining room table with Hilary, Blaine, and the kids.....

Me:  Dad really needs a haircut and his hair needs to be washed....

Hilary:  You know what we should do?  Call Jill and make an appointment for a shampoo and a haircut!

Gary:  Ok.

The next day....before the hair appointment.

Gary:  I will go to have my hair washed and to have her cut it, but that is it.  No more.  This will just be the one time.  I won't go back.

Me:  ok...whatever....

Later....

Gary is in the chair, having his hair washed.

Owen and I are watching.

Gary moves to the chair for the haircut.  He said the shampooing felt really good.

Jill worked on his haircut, stopping and asking questions to be sure she got it the way he wanted it.

Hilary, Landon and Tessa came in.  Everyone was talking and excitement was high about all of us being together, Papaw getting a haircut, Owen awaiting his turn....

Owen moved into the chair for his haircut and Gary moved to another chair closeby.

I looked at him once and he was smiling.  

Hilary:  How do you like your haircut, Dad?

Gary: This is the best my hair has looked in a long time.  I will be coming back.

On the way home...

Me:  So you liked having your hair washed in the shampoo bowl?  You didn't get wet?

Gary:  Yeah, I liked it and no, I didn't get wet at all

Me: And you like the haircut?

Gary: I don't know what she did, but it's the best my hair has looked in a long time.  Every time Amy cuts it, my head looks lopsided.  It feels really good too.  I'll be back.

Me:  (smiling)  See?  Why did you fight me so much on this?

Gary:  You do the same thing to me!

Later:

Gary:  I think I will need to make an appointment for a haircut before we go to Florida, don't you think?

He is sold! 

My Tired Is Worse than Your Tired

 You know, it isn't a contest.

Really.  It isn't.

The last two weeks have been emotionally, physically, and mentally draining.

Gary woke up the morning on May 2 with little to no vision in his right eye.  Fast forward to today, May 14, and he is sitting in the recliner next to mine, with a bag of antibiotic fluid attached to a line leading to a PIK line embedded in his right shoulder . This will be his mojo for the next four weeks while he recovers.

Appointment with ophthalmologist at Arnett leading to an appointment with a retina specialist in Carmel. 

Emergency surgery on his right eye,

Blood work in ER to check for infections?  None found.  

Two days later....summons to ER to treat infection in blood, potentially life threatening, admittance to hospital.

Through five days of hospitalization - tests, more tests, IVs, and more IVs.  Infections.  Foot.  Eye.  Blood.  Surgery.

Finally treatment of 4 weeks of antibiotics in IV.  Home again.

Through it all...fear of the unknown.  Fear of losing the one person in my life who is my stability, my true love, my rock, my best friend.

When I am scared, I don't sleep.

When I am scared, I being to ache, or hurt, or shut down physically.  I know this.  

My knee hurts.  My chest hurts.  My head hurts.  My body hurts.  

My appetite is gone.  My mind isn't working right.  I am scared.  What will happen to me if I lose him?  What will happen to the girls without their dad?  What will Landon, Tessa, Cooper, Owen, and Lynnlee do without their Papaw?   

I know...faith over fear.  I know...I merged into the interstate with NO traffic coming behind me.  That was a sign.  I know it.  

But I was still scared. Scared to the bottom of my soul.

Being scared makes me tired.  Actually not being able to sleep makes me tired.  

And I am tired.   When I am scared, I don't sleep.  I feared the phone ringing in the middle of the night to tell me that Gary had died for some unexplained reason.  I feared hearing noises of someone breaking into the house.  I was afraid. I didn't sleep. I was tired.

I was afraid of hearing bad news from the doctors or the nurses.  I was afraid of the test results.  I was afraid, which meant that I couldn't sleep, which made me tired.

Now I look at the calendar with all of the times for 28 days of infusions and multiple doctors' appointments and trying to juggle my appointments and Cooper's ball games, and I am tired again.

Yes I know that others can't sleep.  I know that others haven't sleep a full night's sleep for days or weeks or months.

I know that people work and are tired.  I know that the school year has been super stressful with COVID and trying to meet standards and stay healthy.  This makes people tired.

I know it is hard to be  a mom and teach.  I know it is hard to be a mom and a teacher and be married, yet feel sometimes like a single mom because your husband isn't available to help...because he is farming, he is taking care of a cow trying to calve, he is concerned about the health of his parents and has had to take them to the doctor or be with his mom while his dad is in the hospital, or he is delivering the mail, or he is away doing some insurance adjusting work so we can have more money so that our daughters can participate in sports or music events or clubs or have better clothes or braces on their teeth, so that we can buy two more vehicles so our daughters can have transportation and pay the insurance and plates on those vehicles too. 

I remember what it was like to work on multiple 4-H projects including sewing, foods, ceramics, collections, flowers and more;  teach two Purdue summer classes, plan and play the music at VBS, keep the house going, take the girls to 4-H meetings, buy groceries, and watch June vanish before I could even realize what day it was.  

I remember my husband planting corn or soybeans or putting on anhydrous or cultivating, taking care of livestock, while I was fixing dinner, cleaning up the kitchen, supervising homework and baths and bedtimes and starting laundry, then staying up until after midnight to prep for classes or grade papers because it had to be done and papers needed to be returned or grades submitted, then needing to be up at 5:30 to get myself ready for school before the girls were awake because we had just one bathroom.  

My point is...

It isn't a contest.

Oh no. John Wayne Movies...Again!

 I walked into the living room this afternoon and found Landon sitting in my recliner, focused on the television.

Now I know he really likes World War 2 stories and has watched Patton several times with Papaw.  They recorded it.  

I also know that he likes anything about Indiana Jones, especially after we visited Hollywood Studios at Disney World in January 2020.  He and Papaw have watched all of those.

His new 'old movie' obsession?  John Wayne.  The Duke himself.

Now this shouldn't be surprising.  His Great-Grandpa Siemens was a big John Wayne fan.  One could walk into their living room at any time, mainly on the weekends or in the evenings and find a John Wayne movie playing on the television.  It was really Grampy's thing...but Grammy would sit there on the couch, one leg crossed over the other, and intently watch the tv screen with him.  

I don't remember Grandpa Norm watching John Wayne movies, mainly because they weren't readily available when I was younger and living at home with my parents.  No cable.  No satellite.  No on demand.  Not even a VCR or DVD.  The only way he could watch such a movie would be if it were playing on the regular television stations and Mom didn't want to watch something else.

However after they moved to Wooster and Direct TV was a thing, he would watch The Duke on the television downstairs while Mom was in the living room reading old magazines and newspapers from twenty years before.  

The one thing I DO remember is that one of  Dad's favorite actresses of all time was Maureen O'Hara.  She co-starred in several John Wayne films.  I can still remember his answer when  I asked him if he liked Maureen O'Hara.  A big smile lit up his face and he said "Yeahhhhhh....." 

Enough said!

I am sure both great-grandfathers were sitting up in heaven, very pleased that Papaw has introduced Landon to John Wayne and he wants to see ALL of the movies!

Well done.

Never Again, but I Have Said That Before....

 Garage Sales.

I really despise them.

It always sounds like a great idea!   Gather up all of the 'stuff' you don't want or need anymore. Put little price tags on those items, place them on a table, arrange them attractively, and put a sign at the end of the drive advertising GARAGE SALE.

Post the sign.

People will come.

They also will paw through all of the items on the table  They will pick up an item, examine it, curl their lips, and toss it aside

They might select an item, then ask if $3 is really the lowest price you will take on a Boyds Bear figurine that has never been out of the box, then replace it on the table when you decline their offer or $2 after saying that $3 is just too much to pay.

Then there are those who are ignoring the items on the sale tables and instead, their eyes are wandering around the garage walls. Thoughts run through our minds --- are they casing the joint to see what tools might be worth some money if they return later and hope for an unlocked door so those tools can be stolen.  Or better yet, that some enticing item might just make its way into the bag and out to the vehicle without paying for it?

Hilary was exhausted after the three days of selling.  Plus there had been several days of setting up before the event.  But she was happy that all of the Rubbermaid totes that have been stacked in the Master Bedroom are empty and out of there.  She was happy that when we actually sorted the leftovers again and boxed them for donations that there was more sold than what she thought.  That close to $1000 that was in her cash suitcase had to be welcomed big time!  I would have been very happy with that!

And I am happy, I guess, with the little bit of money that we took in from our small table of items.  A couple of skillets went to a Hispanic family.  A lady bought the Keurig.  Two men bought the three kids toys (Bucky the Horse, the duck, the wheelbarrow).  All fun things but the kids have outgrown them---and they have been through two generations of children/grandchildren.  The little high chair seat that we had strapped on a dining room chair for Lynnlee.  Also used for all of the grandkids but no one needs it anymore.  The rest of the skillets, the waffle iron, the food steamer, a box of blue dishes that we don't use anymore---all to Goodwill this afternoon.

Was it worth it?  For Hilary, probably.  For me, not so much.  I did use some of the money from our sales for dinner at Culver's so that was something!  But I am not eager to dive into more things that we haven't used in the three years that we have lived here and decide to have my own yard sale. 

No thank you!