Friends

Friends

Looking through my mother's picture Albums; I would say my parent's albums but I’m not sure my dad ever had his hand in the album process. On my dad's  death I took possession of the 30 or so photo albums that my mother so carefully catalogued and labeled. It’s now up to me to go through them and share with my siblings. I've been through a handful and realized that some of these were created after her mothers death as many of the pictures are pictures she has written on the back to her mother. Christmas, thanksgiving, new bedspread, etc

As I was feeling a bit nostalgic on this my first birthday without parents. I got down an album from the 60s. I noticed my parents neighbors played a prominent part in their lives. The Dimerios, the Stuewer’s, the Buckner’s. Common bond children of similar ages and home alone with children. My mother didn’t go to work until 1965 and then got home by 3 ish. Plenty of time for the mother socialization hour that started around 4 and some items continued when the husband came home from work. Old fashions, wine, hord’oevres of nachos broiled under the broiler with a chip, a slice of monetary jack and a dollop of salsa. Parties and bbqs on the weekends. It was a social time driven now I believe by the need for stay at home moms to have social interaction. One family even hosted a Christmas Brunch  for the street and other friends. I think that is probably why these friendships are strong 60 years later. A lunch bunch get together of two generations went on for years but this past year we lost 2 from the first generation and one from my generation. Diana will be the only one from the first when the 4 of us get together agai

 My parents spent a lifetime making and keeping friends. Their Christmas card list held names from their childhood hometowns, college friends, old neighbors, old work buddies: hundreds of people they met and loved along the way.  Their lives were rich in friendships and love.  They genuinely loved others.  I learned that was the secret to my mother's long and happy life.  Not that so many people loved her, but that she  loved so many.  

Now that the majority of us work outside the home we don’t have the time nor the drive to socially interact with our neighbors. I didn’t work full time in the early 80s and did develop several neighborhood friendships. Driven by my need for adult conversation! But mostly we met at the park. And rarely included spouses so it didn’t become the same kind of friendships like on Cheena . After 18 years on the civic club board I can tell you good neighbors are a godsend and bad neighbors are a nightmare.  Thankfully there are more of the good than the bad.  Harvey proved the importance of neighbors !

Time

Time

Where does it go? My mother would say we fritter it away.  And away it does go.
I started this blog as I approached 60 and realized unlike the Tim Mc Graw song My Next Thirty Years I was done with those and about to start my last 30 years.  If I were lucky...  my dad got 31, my mom 27.

And then I got busy.  After my dad died in January of 2018 I was compelled to write. But as I discovered, not to hit the publish button.  Another 5 months have passed and a milestone birthday just happened a week ago.  Even the government acknowledges that I'm old.  I had mistyped that as "millstone" birthday and in some ways it has been a millstone.   For years I've fought my age and aging and remained youthful in my thoughts and actions. Or at least tried to maintain that I was not encumbered by this annual passage around the sun.

But now I'm on the outer ring of that orbit around the sun.  No parents or grandparents to buffer my flying out of orbit and into the great unknown.

I feel the need to stop and smell the roses. Well and pull the weeds around my roses.  And , and ,and.

So much to do, so little time.  So little time left.  I know this feeling will leave but its like a slow trickle out of the hour glass and when its empty I will be gone.  Gone like my dad, gone like my mom. Someone new living in their house. All their belongings somewhere new. Somewhere not with them.

And what are these things, but things.  Harvey taught that to so many that things are just things as everything went to the curb.  Now its Kilauea.  A man posted about the  plants and trees and gardens that he had nurtured for 18 years; gone along with his house and his land and his view and his life as he knew it.  We seem so permanent; our stuff seems permanent.  But mother nature reminds us life is temporary, ephemeral and tenuous. But I will tell you, I love having my parents things around my house.  I love walking into the room and seeing the chair my mother sat in every day.  I love sitting at the desk that my mother sat at and her mother before that. I love setting the table with my great grandmothers dishes.  And while I know they are not in these things, they seem infused with their presence.  

Life will return to normal and  time will speed up with busy-ness and I won't be wanting to ponder life's greater meaning. Maybe I will just be wondering what is on TV or where the Astros are in the standings. Maybe I'll disappear into a book. Maybe we'll have a family get together. But in the back of my mind I will be humming Peggy Lee's Is That All there is; or maybe What's it All About Alfie?
And I will know the clock is ticking and the bell will toll.....

What we leave behind

It seems appropriate that my first blog post has to do with my parent’deaths.  I chose this domain name when I turned 60 and realized that I was heading into my last 30 years. It’s been dormant for 5 years and as an orphan at 64 I felt compelled to write.  My dad passed away a month ago.

What we leave behind.

My dad used to worry about what we’d do with the house full of furniture and a lifetime of memories and memorabilia.  Wouldn’t he be shocked that in less than 30 days the house was empty save his queen sized bed. Was it hard to do?  Not really. First I took pictures of every room, every closet, every drawer and vowed I would go home and de clutter my life.  But did I? No I took carloads of treasures home instead.   We were like an Irish family as the memorial service wasn’t until the next Sunday so we had a week of family togetherness.  The memorial service was incredible. See blog on How my parents prepared for death.

Blog to do——
So my parents made this whole dying thing easier. First we joked about dying all the time.  Talked about smothering one another if we got “goofy” or vegetative.  Read obits that we liked and talked about music etc. My mom even gave me an envelope that I almost forgot to open during the eulogy.  It had some info for the obit and  songs she wanted and a lovely line about no moaning at the bar.
We weren’t prepared to lose her but she had prepared us to get though the dying part of death. That she looked so peaceful and youthful and beautiful after she drew her last breath also helped.

My father was even better with his preparations.  He wrote a beautiful obit.  Prepaid his funeral service and called me a month before to tell me he was going to be dying soon. I scoffed at that. Someone told me Hope kept me from seeing the inevitable with both my parents.

Even my mother was there at my father’s passing with another letter left behind in the funeral folder for my dad.  A poem she had read and tucked away for him called Death is Nothign at all. It was beautiful. It was apropos and we used it in the service.

Ah the Service.  Flag ceremony, great MC, everyone eloquent and funny and poignant and a standing room only crowd followed by a wine and cheese party. Both my parents would have so enjoyed the gathering. I think we honored them.

But back to the house.  We had always laughed at the description of my father studying in depth things most people didn’t think about.   But going through the house you could see his passions everywhere.

Music - yes he has 1489 of his favorite songs on his iPod most of which he had recorded himself from his extensive record collection. Literally hundreds of 33s and 78s.  But that’s not all. Each record cover had a note on it with the best song and which orchestra was performing.  He built a cabinet to hold the record player, the cd palyer and the tuner.  And as he lay dying and could no longer speak we placed his iPod beside his ear and his right arm was up in the air directing the music.  Priceless.  And as the last note of  Fur Elise played, Jim Rucker drew his last breath.  David took the records.

Geology-   What an extraordinary mind he had for west Texas geology and sulphur.  He worked on his maps and logs hours on end waiting for that "ah ha" moment.  The night before his stroke he called Dan Crofoot and I know Dan will always relish that last conversation.  He had boxes and boxes of logs and thankfully Phil Eager took those as it would have been wrong to throw them away.

Taxes -  for the last 5 years this subject has fascinated him and we talked about writing a book.  In December I said "let’s do Ted talks if we can’t get it on paper".  When Debbie came they did get one graphed on the computer but sadly his TIA on Chrimas day sucked this knowledge out of his brain and he looked at all his work and wondered why he had ever studied it.  Sad.

Trains and books and rocks-  he loved books and poetry.  He loved trains and had 3 in pristine condition mounted in His office.  He had a windowsill and buckets of rocks and hundreds of pictures of Core samples. We separated them amongst the three of us.

His yard -   What pleasure he took in his beautiful backyard.  His azaleas were outstanding.  His brick patio relaid several times with care.  He fought with his grass and had refilled his soil within the last 5 years.  He fed the birds and fought the squirrels.  Wiring the feeder with electricity to shock any newcomers who came to feed.

The sun and the water.   He loved the sun. He loved to lay in the sun and soak up the warmth. He loved to sail.  He loved to try new things. Jumping off our bay balcony  at 70 , blooding his nose at 80 on the slip and slide, tearing his rotator cuff with a spill on the tennis court at 85.  He painted our beach house at 70 up on  Scaffolding.  He was still strong at 91.

Food and wine -  he loved good food. And any wine. He had hundreds of recipes collected over he decades and picked up on trips.   The perfect tomato sauce after a trip to Italy; steak au pouvre after a visit to France.  And oh did he love Bill's cooking.

His family - we were his biggest accomplishment.  I read his letter to ralph.  We are but what we leave behind. He was the best father.

Easter: death and resurrection

Do not ask for whom the bell tolls.

Let there be no wailing at the bar.

Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death.

Is life but the valley between our existence as souls? Does that shadow of what is to come enter our daily existence? No, it is such a surprise. Unexpected death at age of 91. Although  have to credit both my parents for their death prep. Yes, preplanned prepaid funeral plans. Special instructions. Mother gave me an envelope marked “Keep for death”. Or something like that. Had some nice quotes. Then my dad called me over about 5 Weeks before his death to tell me he would be going soon. Not eminently but soon. Had me write down his list of assets. I scoffed. And then he was gone. But so organized with nicely labeled files. And in the funeral plan folder was a handwritten note from my lovely mother. What death meant to her. Such a comfort and we used it in his funeral as a reading and so did Gerry when her mom passed a month later .
I watched both my parents take their last breath. It was so peaceful. And they both looked at peace and young. My mother’s face looked like she was 20. My dad’s face did the same. We asked the death doctor and he said it had to do with fluids. I like to think  it was because they were free from the bonds of this life and looking into the face of God. Peace be with you, my Peace I give to you. 

On this Good Friday Eve I am thinking about how Jesus was betrayed, beaten, nailed to a cross and left to die.

 Life can be really hard, so hard that the in Lord’s Prayer we ask to not be led into temptation and to be delivered from evil.

I thought this Lenten season had been lost to me: I didn’t give up anything, made no sacrifices, didn’t even make it to church on Palm Sunday. But I realized I have spent the last 40 days in a desert, feeling orphaned by the deaths around me, by the loss of my dad, my next door neighbor, my city Council person and by others who have retired or changed jobs. But then I remembered. The stone rolls away. In those very darkest hours when all is lost and all hope is gone, the stone rolls away. 

So to all of you I wish you a joyous Easter as we celebrate the promise of the Risen Christ.