Losing a Parent

As you know, recently I joined the club of those who have lost a parent. It is not a club any of us wants to join, but all of us will sooner or later. And many have preceded us.

Specifically I have been reflecting on those of us in the Sandwich Generation, the generation of boomers who are sandwiched between aging parents and growing children. Most of the thoughts out there on the SG deal with caring for both groups, but another layer in the sandwich (which you may recall I recently commented on wanting to be Gourmet, if you please, rather than bologna slapped between two slices of white bread...) is those of us who have lost a parent.

I am now so much more sensitive in a way I could never have been before to my friends and peers who have already established membership in this club. Until you cross that threshold you have no idea.

No idea how to respond. How to care. How to listen. How to affirm. What to say. And the cool thing is, it is OK, because those who went before didn't know either until they joined the club.

The best we can do is then be there for the next as we weren't for the ones who preceded us. I find myself asking my friends if they have lost a parent. If they have I acknowledge their pain and apologize for not being there for them. If they haven't I encourage them to love passionately and make sure they have no regrets.

Have no regrets. Love passionately. Take time.

Peace.

Now What?

I am exhausted, so this will be short. As a matter of fact, I needed to email a photo to the company I am doing nursing work for for a real ID (I am flabbergasted at how many people in Nursing Homes do NOT ask me who I am...) and I just go in and start reviewing charts. I always tell them who I am, but half the time there is no initial greeting, "may I help you," or, "what on earth do you think you are doing with that chart, we've never seen you before."

At any rate, while I was uploading the photo I fell asleep. Honestly, sitting here in bed with the lap top on my lap...

So my mom had her follow up appointment. The finding? Several small ischemic (without Oxygen) areas many focused in the memory center, kind of like mini little strokes, probably accounting for the cognitive changes she has been having. The doctor thinks she should move closer to medical care (i.e. here in Danville) and my dad won't budge. Nothing new, just now a personal dilemma.

This promises to be the hot topic that will go round and round and never end for the next several months/years, until a situation arises that DEMANDS immediate attention. Great, more remote parenting...which of course I will do, and don't begrudge, don't get me wrong. But I want what is best for them both, and for them, that is going to be difficult at best. Despite being married over 55 years, they share few common interests and have no common dreams as far as I can tell. I don't want this for my marriage and golden years. One of our (me and Howie) shared visions of a great marriage is that we hope and dream together about our future and despite being very different, we do share much in common (believe it or not!) Compassion, travel, tri athloning, scuba diving, helping others...

Nicole gave me a loud and stomping run for my money this morning and promptly earned herself some solitary time this afternoon.

I am fading. My mind keeps drifting, my eyes slipping shut and drool is forming in my mouth....

I am not very diva like today, just simply a squeezed gal. Well,OK,I'll take my tiarra and wand back; you never know when they might come in handy; but anyway, on to sleep.

Peace.

PS I edited this morning as I found several errors...I really was falling asleep in the middle of a sentence. Maybe I should go back to early morning blogging...

Simplify

The crusade to simplify my life continues.

Today's focus was on making sure I had enough margin in my day. I started out quietly and alone, and am finishing it quietly and alone, with God and my thoughts.

I woke up early and Howie had set the coffee to go off last night. This is a huge gift to me. To wake up and have the coffee already brewed (which almost happened...the clock was set correctly, except it was on pm not am...) is a huge gift. But I didn't have to wait long, and I retreated back to bed with my Bible and a couple of books. I am reading one on the Spiritual Disciplines, and coincidentally enough, the chapter is on simplicity.

I began my day in quiet, peace and order, which sustains the quiet sense of resolve I have adopted. Resolve not to be hurt, not to hurt, and not to be manipulated, whether that is the intent or not.

More of a painful story continues to be woven; I trust the purposes and lessons that this time holds for me.

I went back to work today. This is also a mostly solitary undertaking, and I enjoy that. It comes as no coincidence or surprise that I find myself working in long term care settings. I did call the neuropsychology department at the hospital today to see if there was any inkling at all as to how long my mom would need to wait for her evaluation appointment. I will be driving to NYC next Wednesday to go to a dinner with my dad, and she is anxious to go home. There is work to be done! I keep reminding her she has appointments ahead, and if they are not taken care of before next week, then she will need to return for them. She is not pleased about this. In the meantime, she toasted a bagel in the toaster oven without slicing it. Mistake? Confusion? Normal? Who knows. What I do know is that I will be relieved when I get a professional's assessment, regardless of what it reveals.

And Matt. Haven't had much contact with him. He has been out late and sleeping late, not in step with my schedule. I know his original plans were to return to Ithaca tomorrow, after his ortho appointment for his wrist. I hope that plan is still in effect. I am anxious, yes, anxious (as opposed to eager, although I am that also) for him to complete his internship hours, which seemed so "in the bag" and are now feeling uncertain to me, so he can move on. I have often remarked that middle aged women (that would be me) and twenty something year old guys don't belong under the same roof. That feels more true now than ever. Our schedules and life choices just don't seem to be in sync. I did write him a letter today so I have shared my piece.

So here I am in the middle of the sandwich of the sandwich generation. Can I at least make it a gourmet selection rather than a slice of generic bologna between two slices of white bread?

Peace.