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Prologue       In the spring of 2007 my widowed


ImagePrologue

 

 

  
I have been absent from my Blog for a while. In this away period I have been working on editing my book in between the call of my daily life. I am including the prologue to my book, a work in progress.

   In the spring of 2007 my widowed mother left her place of birth and a lifetime of living in Indiana and moved to my home in Upstate New York.  It had been apparent to me and my siblings for some time that Mom was struggling to live on her own.  But, my mother’s independent streak and her fierce Irish-German stubbornness did not allow her to leave her residence of fifty years easily. 

     When Mom moved in with my family and me, I thought she was still grieving the death of my father, her husband of over fifty years.  I had learned Mom no longer participated in the activities she once enjoyed; she rarely ventured out of her home.  All signs of depression I assumed. Naively, I believed that once Mom came to live with me she would find a new direction in life from the love my family would give her.  I hoped that my relationship with Mom would evolve into the nurturing, mother-daughter connection I had sought for years.  Yet, after only a few short weeks it became quite apparent all of my assumptions were completely wrong.

       Learning my mother had dementia, although not truly shocking, was not the ending I had in mind for our story together.  Eventually, during the six years that she lived with or near me we did develop a new relationship.  One I had not considered, but, still based on trust and love.  Getting to that final rapport took years of struggle between us.   In the beginning it was who is the child; who is the parent?  Later, that trust was required to let a loving bond blossom into total faith that decisions made on her behalf were for the best. 

     My emotional journey also sparked a transition of my faith.  My feelings about established religion had been evolving for several years.  Soon after Mom moved in with me, I stopped my rare attendance at mass.  My choice had nothing to do with my mother.  Rather, it was a decision that had been growing within me.  I felt more in touch with my idea of God when I was out in nature, or doing an activity with my friends or family.  Mass became a ritual that I dreaded and consequently attained nothing from.  Yet, the more involved I got with Mom’s care, the more aware I became of an inner voice guiding me.  I am by character a non-confrontational person.  Still, as I heard myself questioning doctors, working with insurance companies, dealing with family members and lawyers, I found the words coming from my lips sometimes were not my own.  I had not thought to say them, yet there they were being said.  I began to call my inner guidance my Angels.  It was through this realization that my spirituality grew and I connected with these higher beings that were sent to guide and comfort me.  I believe it was my Angels who first directed me to begin writing.    

     I did not write my thoughts down immediately upon my mother’s arrival.  It was only after many months that the need to release my growing frustrations began to take shape.  I joined a writing group at a local book store because I felt driven by my inner sense, what I call my Angels, to put my feelings into written word.  During my first session I met a group of ladies and we formed a lasting bond that strengthened as we each transformed into writers.  It was this group and our instructor that gave me the courage to record my feelings.  Even then, I did not believe I would take my thoughts and turn them into the book that follows.  As my writing developed, I realized my essays could be a comfort to those walking zombie like through the days of unknown dementia care and decisions as I was.  Consequently, I continued in my pursuit of finishing this book not only for myself but for others who would walk down the path my mother had taken me.  I hope it will bring them comfort and the knowledge they are not alone in their struggles. 

     To do justice to the 85 year life my mother led I have given you, the reader, a brief history of Mom’s life.  I felt that was important so that you too can understand the sorrow I felt in watching this woman, who accomplished so much, slide into nothing. 

     The essays written about the journey Mom and I took together fall in chronological order.  It is my hope that you will garner some camaraderie from my honesty, frustration, laughter, unexpected hurt and overall grief.  This book is for all of us struggling together in what I call, The Caretaker Nation.  

 

 

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Words of Wisdom from Aunt Mary


My mother had a favorite brother, Otis.  I knew him as Uncle Odie.  He was an Indiana hog farmer.  A darn good one I understand as breeders from China came to the United States just to buy the sperm from his hogs.  Uncle Odie died several years ago.  He left behind an incredible family and his wife, Mary.

Aunt Mary, as I remember her, was always quick to find something to laugh about. I didn’t realize until much later in life this was because she was a very positive woman.  Growing up, I just recall enjoying going to her house or having her visit.  She seemed to bring joy into a room with her presence.

Aunt Mary, as my mother once told me, was her example of what a good, loving wife should be, and that she aspired to attain the example Mary and Odie demonstrated of a good marriage.  It was easy, as a young person, to observe the love that exuded from their family.  As an adult, it was still obvious at my uncle’s funeral.  My cousins placed hands of reassurance on their siblings and lavished each other with long comforting hugs.  They doted on their mother.  They all sat side by side and seemed to comfort each other with their nearness.

After Uncle Odie passed, I would on very rare occasions see or talk with Aunt Mary.  It upset me to hear her sadness.  She cried, even years after his death, about how much she missed him.  I selfishly longed for my Aunt Mary’s humor and funny stories.  So, it was with happiness that the last time we spoke, Aunt Mary seemed more her old self.  We were playing catch up on our families and filling each other in on the details.  I was enjoying hearing her familiar infectious laugh.  I realized as Aunt Mary was talking, and she can go on for quite some time without stopping-she was giving out some great advice.  I felt such a pang of recognition when she told me the following story:

There were twelve of us in the beginning.  We knew everything about each other.  We raised each other’s kids.  We spent a lot of happy times together.  Now there are only two of us left.  My friend, she doesn’t travel much so I rarely see her.  But, oh, we had some fun.  Now there is no one left who knows me.  My kids say we know you, but they only understand me as their parent.  I have no one left who remembers, me.

Up until that point I had been listening but also cleaning junk off my desk.  Now, suddenly I stopped.  Aunt Mary had just described my situation with our very close friends.  A relationship we find very unique and special but one, I’m sure many people have.  I realized the valuable insight I had been given and I took this thought from that story.

Cherish my family friends and the times we have now, because we all know life does not remain the same.  In some very short years, we also, will begin to lose loved ones from our wonderful odd assortment of comrades.  All too soon only one of us will be left to tell our story. 

Then, very quickly, as was typical of Aunt Mary’s train of thought, she changed the subject and went on to say her life was good.  She didn’t do as much living anymore but she experienced life through her grandkids and great-grandkids.  She has more than I can count.  As I listened with amazement, Aunt Mary began to rattle off their names and the cities they lived in.  She told me their professions and their spouse’s names and if they had any children.  I was impressed but I remembered I had always enjoyed her stories because of the amazing detail she recalled about the events.

As Aunt Mary was winding down her conversation she threw in some last minute tidbits of great advice.  “Odie has been gone ten years now and it’s awful.  I still miss him constantly.  Enjoy every moment, it goes by so fast and appreciate your husband every day.”

Some exceptional words of wisdom.  Thanks, Aunt Mary.

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What Can I Do?


Once again, we Americans sit stunned in front of our TVs and wonder; what can I do? 

It has been demonstrated with pictures and video the brave persons who ran to help those in need during the crisis in Boston. We heard of doctors and nurses who voluntarily showed up to work and runners who offered to donate blood.  But, what can I do?

As is the norm for so many of us we get caught up in daily living.  We work to pay the bills.  We rush out the door to our jobs and hurry the day along until quitting time.  We run home to the commitments we have signed ourselves up to do.  We become irritated with the weather when it hampers our agenda.  We rarely stop to notice the trees blooming in the spring.  We ignore their summer shade and miss their glamour in the fall.  In the winter we forget to sit and listen to the silence of snow as it falls. We overlook the laugh of a child or the gentle touch of our spouse.   In short we miss life.

In forgetting to appreciate the many wonders taking place around us, we disregard the struggles of others.  If you think you are having a bad day remember the person standing next to you may have it worse.  The idiot who butted in line is perhaps worried about his daughter lying in a hospital with cancer.  The slow-moving senior is probably grieving for the loss of their partner in life.  Your neighbor, who can’t seem to take care of their lawn, may have more pressing issues, like paying bills since the lost of their job.  Every day, we come across others who are losing a friend to a terminal illness, or suffering from one themselves.  We run into adult children caring for a parent with Alzheimer’s.  We encounter people who are going through a bitter divorce, or losing their child over a battle they can’t find a solution to.

You don’t know what those around you are going through, how their day feels to them.  You may not understand the grief they are experiencing as they try to maintain their everyday lives, one that may be swirling so quickly around them, they are dizzy with fear.  But, here is what you can do.

Be the person who is gracious.  Smile and greet strangers as you go through your day.  Open doors for others.   Let the car trying to slip into your lane in front of you, in.  Tip your waiter well, even if the service was poor.  Be patient with the older person moving slowly and holding you up as you hurry through your day.  Take the time to actually listen to people as they talk to you.  Simply acknowledge that the person waiting on you, ringing up your purchase, answering your questions, or being rude is a human being.  A smile for a weary soul can make the difference of how their day will feel to them as they crawl into bed at night.  A simple gesture of kindness can give enough light in the haze of anxiety to push the receiver towards feeling some positive.

I understand small gestures can have a large outcome.  On the days I felt low, as I drove to visit my dying mother.  Even as I felt the glow of the sun and tried to enjoy its warmth, a smile from a stranger sometimes made all the difference.  Just that small act of thoughtfulness restored my faith and allowed me to believe that things would get better.  As I fought to get through my day, if I came across a rude person, I reminded myself; you don’t know what they are going through in their lives.  I would try to return their impoliteness with charity on my part.  Because, I hoped they in turn would be gracious to the next person.  Small deeds can lead to tiny breaths of hope, which in turn may lead to big outcomes in the life of one or many.

What can you do?  Kindness to others is my simple suggestion.

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The End of an Anticipated Dream


????????The last time I wrote I mentioned my collection of quotes.  This past weekend I was reminded of yet another passage I try to refer to often.

Don’t cry because it is over.  Smile because it happened.

Dr. Seuss

With the arrival of warm temperatures snow skiing has come to an end.  There are some who will find a sunny spring day to glide down slushy slopes and one last time end their runs with a much anticipated beer on the deck.  But, I have finished for the season.  Over the weekend, my husband and I packed up all of the belongings we had managed to drag up north and moved them from our rental.  As I emptied over-flowing cupboards, filled with the generosity of visiting friends, and stuffed suitcases stretched tight against their zippers, my thoughts returned to my anxious greed in December to move into this winter haven.

The idea to return to weekends spent skiing full time at Gore Mountain and enjoying all of our winter time friends came to me as I talked with two of my sisters about our very small inheritance.  Our mother had recently passed away from her long slide into the nothingness of dementia.  We felt the money was a gift and should be put to use in a way that would honor both our mother and father.  We were in awe at the financial ingenuity of our parents, a teacher and insurance salesman.  How had they managed to raise, feed, clothe and then send seven children to college and still have enough left for Mom to be well taken care of at the end of her life?

As ideas were thrown around I came to my conclusion.  Sitting on a screened in porch on July third,  overlooking a lake in the beautiful Blue Ridge Mountains, it was difficult to imagine the following winter.  Yet, I could feel the tingle of frost as I formulated my plan.  I knew it was very likely during the winter of 2012-13 my daughters would be living near or with my husband and me, an opportunity that may not happen again, at least for some years to come.  Our girls are young adults, in their  early twenties.  The notion of them both ending up living in upstate New York is a farfetched dream.  I did know however, they would spend time with their parents, at least for a few months, if I enticed them with the lifestyle they grew up loving: skiing every weekend during the winter.

As my idea brewed in my head, I also imagined a writer’s retreat for my group, where we could spend time doing what we all love, putting our thoughts down on paper.  Along with that, weekends of fun and laughter crowded my mental image.  With the rental, the friends I so adore and cherish would once again have a place to gather.  This spot would be an inviting sanctuary to ignore the painful truths of our lives and lose ourselves in raunchy jokes, good food, great adult beverages and the comforting companionship of dear friends.

The winter months went by, as you can guess, all too quickly.  One day it was time for the first run, the next, the annual end of the year slush cup.   When the car was packed, I wandered one last time through the living room of the chalet, turning off the gas fireplace and locking the doors.  Through tear-filled eyes I saw the smiles and I heard the laughter.  I smelled the candles as they were blown out on my daughter’s birthday cake.  I saw the realization of joy in my husband’s face when we surprised him with a family, plus two boyfriends, dinner at his favorite restaurant.  I heard the giggles of young adults echo throughout the loft and saw, once again, their card games at the big dining table.   I sensed the sound of clinking wine glasses raised in salute during the many toasts that took place as we gathered to share our meals.  I knew then, as I heard the door lock one last time, my intuition had been correct.  Renting a home in the Adirondacks was a true celebration of my parent’s gift.

I smiled, because I made it happen.

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Quotes and Contemplation


????????I like to collect quotes that at a particular time provoked contemplation or simply made me smile.  Some passages have made enough of an impact to have changed my life.  For example, to be gentler on myself or perhaps the words encouraged me to move forward with a dream I had been pushing to the wayside.  One quote I found particularly relevant was the following.

“We must be willing to let go of the life we have planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us.”  Joseph Campbell

These words written together as one thought caused me to stop and reflect.  I am definitely a planner.  I sometimes plan out intricate details months in advance. On Sunday evenings I look at my calendar and plan the following week.  I put to memory what I am doing.  I look up how to drive to the school I will be working at on a given day.  If I’m not teaching then I set up in my mind’s datebook when I will write, clean, do laundry or run errands.  When it comes to running errands, I don’t just hop into my car.   I plan a route that will eliminate crossing traffic and cut down on driving distance.  I rarely go to the grocery without a list, which consists of an inventory of what I am having for meals that week and the ingredients I need.  I plan because it is a comfort to me to know ahead of time what I need or want to do each day.

As I search back through my memory of myself.  I try to recall, was I always a planner? In college I never pulled an all-nighter.  I often had projects done a day or two before they were due.  I understood even then, I did not work well under pressure.  I jokingly tell others that when my now husband asked me to move to New York from Florida, not to marry, but so that we could be closer to each other, I packed my lime green Jetta and drove. The real truth is I recall agonizing over the decision.   Eventually, my older sister who I was living with at the time, said; “just go, you are young, and have nothing tying you here.”  With no true plan, I left, a huge leap for me.

Recently, as I cared for my mother I gradually began to accept the idea of Joseph Campbell’s quote.  When Mom came to live with me and my family I was at a turning point in my life.  My two daughters were either in college or heading there.  My husband and I were soon to be empty nesters.  I had many proposals for myself running through my mind. I had great ideas for finding my midlife career.  None of these mind diagrams included being the caretaker, then guardian and eventually hand holder of my mother as she slid into dementia.

Certainly, I knew that taking my mother into my life was the right thing to do.  Soon afterwards my frustration blossomed inside of me as I fought against the reality of my life and what I had envisioned.  At times I resented my mother then, I chastised myself for feeling that way.  My aggravation at not achieving my perceived goals grew. I would push myself down the path I thought was my destiny, only to be waylaid with the more insistent care of my mother.  One day I stumbled onto the aforementioned quote.  It was a slow process of comprehension, like a flower slowly blooming until the vivid colors demand your attention. That led to a recollection of words of what another sister often repeated; “If what you are trying to do keeps getting blocked with obstacles, then maybe your guardian angel is trying to tell you to go another way.”  I realized it was time to let go of the life designs I felt I wanted or were required by me to accomplish.  Instead, I unhurried my pace.  I slowed my thoughts and my relentless running towards an objective that was frustrating me. I listened to the very subtle guidance from what I consider to be a higher being.  I watched for signs, sometimes confusing in their very nature, but a sign never-the–less.

Over the course of a book club meeting someone mentioned a new writing class that was to begin soon.  I heard, but felt I couldn’t take the time.  While reading the newspaper there again was the suggestion of this writing class.  Finally, because most signs need to be very obvious to me, a friend sent an email with the subject line, thought you might be interested in this.  Why she thought that I’m not sure.  At least this time I took the hint and signed up for the class.  That small gesture has led me to follow this new life course of writing.  Something I purely enjoy.

More opportunities opened up once I let go of my preconceived destinations.  Several years before, at the persuasion of a friend, I had applied for a position as a teacher for The Traveling Children’s Museum.  Nothing came of it and as I became more involved with the care of my mother the idea was swept from my mind.  When my life slowed somewhat from the attention I needed to give to Mom, completely out of nowhere I received a phone call from the Museum.  Now my friend was in the position to hire and she had found my long ago resume buried under stacks of the previous administrators papers.  “Was I still interested in the job?” I laughed, “Of course.” Because I had waited and not pushed to reach a goal when the goal was unachievable my reward was great.  I love my job and now have the time to commit to it.

I certainly don’t want to lead you to believe I think life comes to those who wait.  No, in my interpretation of Joseph Campbell’s thought I don’t believe he meant for us to do nothing and expect our lives to materialize in front of us.  I do think his intention was to allow yourself to open up to opportunities that come your way.  Even if those possibilities have nothing to do with the course you have chosen to walk down.

As a planner I have struggled to let go of my big ideas for my future.  Now, it seems I don’t even remember exactly what they were.  I do know because I allowed myself to find the life that was waiting for me instead of the one I planned, I am happy and look forward to allowing more doors to open.

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Moms Gone Wild


????????????????Recently, I went on a road trip with two lady friends.  A long weekend spent being a groupie for the band, Trial By Fire.  My friend’s son, and a young man I have known since he was a baby, is a member.   We had a great time, but quickly realized staying up until the early hours of the morningwas tough work.  We were no longer the college students partying away our stress over upcoming finals.   Instead, we were three older woman escaping the confines of our daily lives.  Our getaway was a needed escape from being the caregiver for a very ill spouse and the sudden, unexpected, responsibility of a mother and nephew.   I was the one that had no true commitments. In February I had passed the one year anniversary of my dementia bound mother’s death, and with that, a release to determine what  I want to do with the rest of my life.

We three adventurers set out on a journey deemed, Moms Gone Wild.  But, how wild can you get in a mini-van?  The first night earplugs were distributed so that we could  all attempt a good night’s sleep.   On Friday we awoke and piled back into our vehicle for a six hour drive.  We arrived in Greensboro, North Carolina in time to have a beer while the band set up and did a sound check.  I got a thrill of boastful pride when we told the bartender we were related to one of the musicians.  That night at the show, with the music thrumming in our chests and the crowd clapping and screaming encouragement to the rock group, we decided to celebrate with a jello-shot.  We couldn’t resist as the somewhat solidified alcohol came in a huge syringe.  I’ve been in bars before where a band was playing.  But, this was different.  I delighted in watching the crowd watch our favorite band member.  I pondered on how it must feel to be on stage and realize I was bringing such fun to the crowd.  What a rush it must be.  The night finally ended, for us at least, as we made our way to our beds around 2 a.m.  On Saturday afternoon, after two more hours of driving we landed in Charlotte, North Carolina and began the whole process again.

Along the journey, of our weekend away, the three of us shared many thoughts.  We reflected on the circumstances of our lives.  It never occurred to any of us to complain about what life had thrown our way.  Instead, we accepted the obligations and knew we would not do anything differently.  Still, that does not mean we did not question what the future would hold and how that now would be so different from what we had envisioned.  Yet, we understood we are not unlike so many of our generation, taking on the care of aging parents just when we were ready to enjoy empty nest adventures with our spouse.  Or perhaps, as my one friend, realizing those golden years will never come for her and her husband.

That is why this weekend away was just what the doctor would have ordered if prescriptions can be written for such an excursion.  A few days in which we came close to reliving our youth; the one that seemed so burdened at the time and, as we have come to understand, no where near that complicated.  During the weekend the three of us spent the days enjoying the warmth of the southern sun and hanging in bars with the band at night.

But real life rushed in and on Monday we made the grueling 15 hour endurance test back to our homes.  I awoke Tuesday feeling disoriented and exhausted, only to look out the window to an inch of snow on the ground.  Welcome back to reality.

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Changing My World


“When you’re done with this world, you know the next is up to you.” John Mayer

It has been a year since my mother passed away; Twelve months of me reclaiming my life. Although, I’m not sure reclaiming would be the correct term. Instead, I think I am rebuilding my new world. That is why John Mayer’s words resonate with me. The end of my era as my mother’s guardian also coincides with the end of my era as a full-time mother. My husband and I have successfully encouraged our daughters to grow their own wings and leave the nest feeling confident in their lives ahead. Kudos to us. So, the next is up to me. Where do I go from here?
The good news is I can make my choices based on over a half century of living. I certainly have life experiences, and I plan on using them to make, what I hope, are wise decisions. My husband and I live a good life in suburbia. We have enough to enjoy pursuing the activities we like to do. Because we have accomplished this goal, personal happiness is my next biggest objective.
That desire is encumbered with the many heartrending aspects I have in my life involving those I love. Friends and family, who have joy sucking circumstances they are facing. The kind that leave you searching for sunshine even when it is sparkling through your window. I realize that, especially as we mature, my situation is not unique; how I go about living my life, that is what is exclusive to me. I want to be there for those I love and support, a hand to hold, the one who listens without judgment. But, it is also my wish to be able to share some happiness with them. I want to encourage a new thought process, to not dwell on the injustice, if you will, of their lives. Instead I would like to concentrate on the bright spots in life, the obvious and more importantly, the simple wonders of everyday. I want them to feel, we are in this together.
Part of finding my new world is discovering what makes me happy, my purpose in life. Writing, I know, is definitely on the list. My part-time teaching job brings me joy, as I travel from school to school bringing a field trip to classrooms with The Scotia-Glenville Traveling Children’s Museum. I love both of these aspects of my life’s journey. I also appreciate the fact I don’t have to worry about a generous income from either.
Realizing these thoughts, I have decided to practice the art of listening to my feelings and wants. At times, putting my needs in front of others. Something, we as woman or perhaps parents, don’t always get to do as we raise our families or care for others. I have found my needs are not far from where I have been, they have just increased in their importance. Spending time with friends and my sisters is one of the most important aspects of my life. Sometimes, I have to travel to do that, but I am growing more accustomed to the idea that the cost can be outweighed by the joy the trip brings. After all, what can bring more pleasure to your soul than hearing the laughter of those you love, or feeling the comfort of a much needed hug? I am also working on having a more adult relationship with my grown daughters. All involved must change our thought process to include a more give and take relationship. Not the one that served us well as they grew, of parent giving and the child taking. This course of action will take time but I am willing to wait for the fruition of my efforts to develop.
I have learned many lessons during my 54 years of life experiences. My journey has taught me that I will gain friends and lose them. But, more importantly, to hold onto the lessons I learn from those experiences. I hope I taught my daughters the self-strength and compassion it takes to care for your mother as she slides into the nothing of dementia. I know with the leadership of my sister I have gained a new spiritual strength; learning how to accept the guidance of both earth angels and heavenly ones. Building and constantly working on a relationship with my husband is still a continual part of my life. Together we have experienced the exhilaration of holding a tightly blanket wrapped newborn, and the daunting task of helping her grow to adulthood. I have come to understand that some of the most important relationships in life are the ones with your sisters, whether they are related to you by blood or by experience. The love and companionship of those women have, over the years, given me the courage, strength and self-confidence to continue to move forward with my life.
My next world is up to me, and I am determined to make it happy. I hope to find the positive even in a negative situation. I promise to continue to build my self-confidence and make choices based on my wants. I have realized that sometimes putting yourself first, in the end, can be beneficial to those around you. I have come to relish the bliss it brings me to watch myself accomplish goals I have recently set for myself. It gives me the strength I need, to in turn wash my friends and family with the waves of my happiness. I hope it brightens even a part of their day.

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The Snowman Contingent


???????? As anyone that has read some of my blogs will know, I like snow. This in turn leads to my love of snowmen. During the winter I have assorted displays of the 3 globes of frozen precipitation decorating my home. They add whimsy to the dark days of the coldest months.
Every year, the day after Thanksgiving, my family follows our tradition and cuts down a Christmas Tree. We trim the tree that afternoon and then over the course of the next day or so I finish decorating the rest of the house. Come sometime in mid-January I take down all of the Christmas embellishments. But, I leave out all of the snowmen; after all it is still very much winter at that time of year here in upstate New York. It brings me pleasure to drink coffee in the morning out of my varied winter themed mugs and the snowmen seem to smile at me as I watch the Weather Channel anticipating winter storms. I have the superstition that my frozen friends help deliver a sunny but snowy winter. Consequently, I like having them around the house.
But, the time has come to dismantle the snowman displays. As I type this I can hear the wind rumbling up against my house and watch as it causes small branches to fall from the trees. The temperature today has not even reached the freezing level. Despite this, I am officially calling snowman season over.
It is March and even though spring here can actually be defined as mud season and certainly not enjoyable, I think it is time to move on. Skiing will continue for a few more weekends as there is still snow at Gore Mountain. But, there is no white stuff left in my yard and besides, I am ready for some color. Perhaps, if I drag out my spring décor I will encourage the warmer temperatures to come our way and we will begin to see the crocuses, daffodils and tulips in bloom.
So it is goodbye snowmen, see you next winter.

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Confessions of an Empty Nester


I heard the door close shut for the last time as my daughter carried her suitcase to her car and drove away. Actually, I really didn’t hear the door close because I wasn’t home. We would say our goodbyes later. But, the way my emotions were going, I swear I heard that door slowly squeak shut when she texted she was getting into her car and leaving her childhood home.
Having my youngest daughter, a recent Purdue University graduate, live at home for a few months had been difficult for all involved. She was miserable and my husband and I bounced between trying to make her happy and hoping she would decide to leave so all of us could go back to whatever we thought was our normal lives. Yet, hugging my daughter goodbye as she set out on an adventure before heading to law school in the fall, I had mixed emotions. I knew this arrangement would be better for her; she needed to get out on her own. But, I was sad that our time together was over and quite honestly, I never felt like we got to enjoy it.
The other reality was the fact that my husband and I were now true empty nesters. We had dabbled in it for a few years. There were long stretches of just he and I as our daughters attended college many states and miles from home. Still, we knew the girls would come back for periods of time. We had the holidays with them, moments during the summer. Now, here we were with two vacant bedrooms in need of a paint job.
My husband and I are very social and we often find plenty to do on the weekends. But, I wonder, do we still maintain the same goals in life? I know for a fact we disagree on the purchase of a second home. What else lies between us and seems unsolvable? Can we proceed down our current path, both of us questioning if we agree on how to live out the next years of our lives? Will we live up to our wedding song words?
“Though the binding cracks and the pages start to yellow, I’ll be in love with you.”
Dan Fogelberg
Because of these differences, I have wondered lately, what keeps some marriages together, after the children leave, and why do others fall apart? I understand there are marriages that were just not meant to be and breaking up makes the most sense. Then, there are the couples who seem to have drifted away from each other but remain living together. Maybe it is the tiring thought of starting over that keeps a number of couples together. There are overwhelming questions. Who gets to keep the friends? How do we split up holidays with our children and with the hoped for grandchildren? How do I go forward from here, can the future alone be better? Consequently, maybe staying is easier.
Or possibly, staying as a couple is because of desires that go beyond boredom and monetary items. There is the anticipated warmth of a grandchild as they snuggle into your lap; the dream of once again seeing the belief in a child’s eyes at the thought of Santa. Quiet talks with daughters on how their lives are going. Being there for their triumphs and holding their hand when life throws a curve ball. Perhaps, as an aging couple these welcoming thoughts draw us together and allow us to continue a relationship over a quarter century old. Maybe it is too difficult to throw out all of those past life experiences that we have walked down and sometimes stumbled through. Memories can inflict a powerful hold, ones that give the heart an opportunity to cling to the thought of more good times to come. I have recollections that allow me to remain hopeful of a future together with a guy I sometimes find stubborn, withdrawn and grumpy. A husband I don’t always understand. As we move forward on our journey together a thought has occurred to me. I need, during those difficult moments, to learn to step back and allow my heart to search the caverns of its memory to a time when the anticipation of seeing him made it beat like crazy.

by

Suprise Snowfall


????????The other day, as I heard birds chirping away and felt a small sliver on sun on my shoulders, I thought, I’m ready for spring. Then the super storm swept across the country and I was sad because here in my little neck of the woods we weren’t supposed to get any snow. I felt cheated. Yet, yesterday afternoon, as I was teaching a class, I looked up to see snowflakes dancing through the air. I felt myself smile.
I have this total love for snow. Upon my arrival home I sat in a comfy chair and watched tiny snowflakes fall and slowly but diligently cover the brown of winter, encasing the earth in pristine white. Later that evening, returning from dinner out, I put on the high beams so that I could see the snowflakes as the hood of my car pressed through the white haze of miniscule flakes made one by their number. I smiled a huge grin to see one of my favorite sights. Pine trees flocked with poufs of snow; a dramatic showing of the beautiful contrast of colors in nature; light against dark. This night, the snow was heavy and clung to each branch of the oaks and maples that surround my house showing off the intricate branches of the trees. I stood in the drive a few minutes and let the snowflakes tickle my face as they ever so gently fell in their winter silence to the ground.
Finally, this morning as the snow continued to fall, leaving us with enough depth to cause a two hour school delay, I sat with my coffee and enjoyed the beauty of the day breaking on trees laden with their burden. Early spring birds flitting from one branch to the other trying to figure out what is going on. This snowfall will not last long. The weather, very soon, is supposed to turn warm enough to melt it. I am trying to take in all of the sights I can. I want to hold this winter scene with me as the seasons begin to change. I know in upstate New York, this may not be our last snowfall. But, this is certainly one of the most beautiful.