More Bruises to My Heart

It happened again.  Yesterday I filled out some forms required to plan for Hillary’s future.   I don’t like to think about the realities of that, it makes my heart hurt.  The forms require writing down everything that she needs done for her—everything she can’t do—which is pretty much everything.  It gives such a sad, depressing “snapshot” of her.  It doesn’t tell who she is, what she’s like, what she can do.

I went to the library today, leaving Hillary with my wonderful respite woman for a few hours so I could run some errands and have some time to myself.  While there I noticed two young women in wheelchairs with their attendants.  I couldn’t help but think how in just 2 short years Hillary will no longer be in school, and our options for what she will do to fill the hours of the day are limited.  One option is to hire attendants to take her places.  While I know that it is wonderful to have options at all, I think how sad and lonely that would be for her.  She likes to be around other people who are lively, talking, laughing, doing things.  None of the available options for her include as much of that as she has at school every day.  It hurts my heart.

I always knew that these days would come.  There will be more and more forms and decisions to be made over the next couple of years in regards to Hillary.  Just because I knew this was coming, doesn’t mean it’s any easier.  At least I wasn’t blindsided by it.  Forgive me if I occasionally post about these things, they are not happy thoughts, but necessary, and by confronting them I can continue to give Hillary the happiest life I am able to provide.

When I Think of Dad

When I think of Dad I hear coffee percolating very early in the morning, smell eggs and toast cooking, and hear heavy footsteps leaving the house.

I hear a deep voice reading “Little Red Ridinghood” doing all the characters’ voices, especially the wolf.

I see kind brown eyes and a white t-shirt, and country music on the stereo.

I remember early cold winter mornings and a tired man starting my car so I could go to work on Sunday, his one day to sleep in.

I hear muttered comments and laughter at a family gathering.

I see old cars held together with spit and a prayer carrying a family of 6 wherever they needed to go.

I see green lollipops, burned cookies, and grape popsicles that nobody else wanted.

I remember plastic ware in a shirt pocket at family reunion picnics.

I hear silly rhymes and someone calling me “Snicklefrits”.

I know that I grew up with love, respect, and understanding nobody else could have given.

The Past

With the windows down and the radio loud she’s singing as she cruises ‘round the town.

  She’s got her short shorts on and her hair’s streaming in the breeze, she’s smiling and she’s waving bringing guys to their knees.

  She’s nineteen, and it’s seventy nine, the summer’s rolling on and all is fine.

 Billy Joel is singing “Stranger”, and she sees her greatest danger as the boy she’s been stringing along.

  Out of the blue comes a sound to her that’s new and it stops her dead in her tracks.

  It’s a little baby girl who is the focus of her world and reality of a sudden is back.

   She’s in a mini van with a bottle in her hand, and a seat full of groceries to boot.

  She’s wearing mom jeans, Elmo’s singing ABC, and her world is surrounded by cute.

 She thinks back on those days when just cruising was the way to spend her free time in the sun.

  Now she’s by the kiddie pool and she’s wiping off the drool that has just run down her arm.

  She reflects as she coos that those days may have been misused but they sure were lots of fun.

  Now that boy is a dad because of all the fun they had and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

  She still sings as she goes, but it’s “head, shoulders, knees, and toes”, and she’s happy with the life she has.

Odes to Comfort Food

I've been feeling under the weather lately, and here are two foods that I find comforting.


Ode to Tomato Soup
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Tomato soup how I love you

You warm me up inside

I feel so comforted by you

When you I imbibe.

When I was young my mother gave

Tomato soup to us

On cloudy days in summer

And cold, cold winter days

When all else fails to cheer me

You bring some sunny rays.

You are high in vitamin c

That fact we can’t deny

But how you comfort, warm, protect,

 And truly satisfy makes you the apple of my eye!

 
Ode to Grilled Cheese
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Grilled cheese oh such yummy stuff

So gooey, warm and good

Dipped into tomato soup

You are a perfect food.

Crunchy on the outside

With your insides soft and warm

Cut in rectangles, squares or triangles,

I love you in any form.

White bread, rye, or on whole wheat

It doesn’t matter much

American, cheddar, provolone

Mozzarella, gouda, swiss

It’s all the same to me,

Toasty yummy, gooey warm,

That’s how you were meant to be.

(S.Donald)

On Loss and Grieving

Sometimes things happen and you don’t know what to say.  Sometimes there just isn’t any right thing to say.  Platitudes and trite sayings just don’t cut it when someone loses a loved one whether it was a total shock, or “expected”.  As if knowing such an event was on the way would bring any comfort!  Words are so very inadequate to express the shock, sadness, sense of loss, devastation that you know are being experienced at least 1,000 fold by the family.  You want to help, do something concrete.  I have sat with a very dear friend who lost her young daughter, just holding her hand, crying, talking, hugging, and expressing disbelief.  I have done this the day after her daughter left the Earth, and many times since in the intervening years.  I tried to figure out what the best thing to do or say is, and the only thing I can say is that it seems not mentioning the person who’s gone is the worst thing to do.  Even when talking about her makes her cry, my friend most wants for her daughter to be remembered.  Talking about those who are no longer with us keeps them present in our lives, helps fill the void somehow even though it is like one raindrop in the ocean.  I often talk about my parents who are both gone, I keep a picture or two of them around, it helps keep them in my life somehow.  Grieving is such an individual thing. There’s no right or wrong way, but not getting stuck in part of the cycle seems to be the key to continuing on with our lives here on Earth.  Just like keeping the pedals on a bicycle in one  position will not allow you to move forward, neither will staying on one part of the grieving cycle.  I know so many people who have lost loved ones recently, husbands, children, parents, siblings, and pets.  It all hurts.  Sometimes I feel like maybe I should edit what I say, what I write, in an effort to be sensitive to their losses.  If I did that, however, I’d be hard pressed to make conversation or write a letter or Facebook status.  We all lose loved ones, it’s part of our journey.  It never seems to make sense why the ones who go are chosen to do so when they are chosen.   I don’t know that we’re supposed to really make sense of it, but we try anyhow.  We’re each on our own life’s journey.  We help each other as best we can, try to learn from each other, and lend some comfort in whatever form—hugs, prayers, listening, holding hands, or just sitting silently side by side passing tissues.