I just want to start by saying that I am at this stage uncertain why I continue to blog. My writings started out very impactful, emotional, thought provoking and now I feel as if they have become mundane and mediocre at best. I suppose if you follow the progression, it goes from a chaotic point in my life to a calmer, more settling period with some ups and downs in-between which could explain the fluctuations in my writing style, but I also am a bit disappointed in myself as I know I am capable of so much more and much better writing at the very least.
Life has just gone by so very fast. I feel as if I am just trying so hard to get everyone up to speed (as if they really care) that I have not had time for the more impactful writing which I’m sure people would much rather read about. My mother tells me at times I should write a book on transitions. I suppose this is my transition writing if you will. I was speaking to my mother today as I gathered she has been struggling lately and as the holidays draw near, I feel as if she is becoming a bit more depressed. She had already told me she will never celebrate her birthday again as that was the day my father died and regardless of what happened and what the death certificate says- she will always know he died on her birthday. As for Christmas- I am asking for my brother to get us an invite to his in-laws so that my mother does not sit home feeling sorry for herself. I wish there were more I could do but there is not. Life has changed- not just for her but for all of us.
I try from time to time to explain to her what she needs to do to overcome this. I never lost a husband- at least not to death, but I lost my husband nonetheless. She is lonely and I too was in a place where I had nothing and lost everything. I overcame it and still work to overcome the obstacles still left in my path. Each day presents a new challenge and I understand some of the hurdles she faces so I try my best to help her get over them based on what worked for me but she seems to not want to listen. You can lead a horse to water but you can’t force them to drink as is the case here. My mother has always been a very positive, optimistic- almost sickeningly so, type of person. Lately she has such negativity in her voice which is not like her. So I tried to get her to open up to me some as she likes to go about pretending things don’t bother her. I think she has a lot of issues she has yet to deal with and I am not sure how to help her. She refuses to go to a support group, refuses to go out and meet friends and always seems to have issue with just about everyone new she meets. There are days when I have zero patience for her and it shows to the point I think I almost bring tears to her eyes and then I regret it afterwards. Then there are times like now when my heart goes out to her as I feel I have been so insensitive to her needs and feelings.
She will not say so, but I think she wishes she had me all to herself – wishes she had more “mommy and me” time as I like to call it. I think she feels I make more time for my boyfriend than her or that she gets secretly jealous when I go out with my friends but what am I to do- sit home lonely and depressed watching countless hours of TV as she does? Anyway, the point I started to make is that we are all in transition. She feels that her life sucks and that life did not take her where she thought it would. I just looked at her and said- “hello- and mine did?”. She tried to blame her negativity on me being so whoa is me from time to time. She told me that it was OK for her to be upset sometimes. I agreed with her and said it was not my fault she was feeling the way she was and that I know all too well about having your moments. I mean my entire life feel apart at the same time so you don’t have to preach to me about life going where you did not anticipate. At this point she stopped and said- “OK- so maybe your life was a bit more messed up than mine- I give you that.”
I know where she is coming from, I know what she is going through and what she is feeling and what she faces. I know the despair, the hopelessness and the inability to see the light at the end of the tunnel sometimes. Let’s face it, how many years have I been waiting to catch a glimpse of that rainbow? I finally catch a peek and it gets covered up with some crappy ass rain cloud. Life suck sometimes- it is hard and I am not here to say that it isn’t, but life goes on. Pick yourself up, dust yourself off and take it minute by minute if you have to. That being said, I started off by saying how my writing appears to have been lacking in content lately.
Right about now I am wondering why I continue to write- other than I enjoy it of course. My blog started out “breathe- taking” as it was described to me by someone, and now I feel it is just blah. Why is it blah? Well I have my suspicions. One I have limited time to write now that I have gone back to work. Two- I have found other outlets to cope or people that I can share my thoughts and feelings with so I no longer feel the need to write as much for the same “therapeutic benefits” that it once had. Three- maybe my life is becoming much more settled and with that I figure who cares what is going on during my “transition”. But I am not a quitter- I have been thrown some of life’s hardest challenges simultaneously and have yet to give up. 2010 was to be my year, my blog and the Liver Walk were my big projects for the year and so as determined as ever, I force myself to find time to write.
I am preparing to go to Vegas in a week and a half to see my sister for Thanksgiving. I have started my holiday shopping and all my usual photo projects and then life has pulled me all over the place- so boring has become my writing, but this was my 2010 project and 11 months into the year I can’t just quit now.
I wrote a partial blog entry last month (just posted) even thought it may have been one of my longest yet. I had more thoughts or things to comment on but one thing I have learned is why move backwards when you can move forward. If only life had a few hours more to each day and they were all mine not to be shared with anyone else, surely you would get more quality but that unfortunately has not been the case so I will give you a brief rundown and then see where my writing takes me. It may take me a while to get caught up and then at that point I will once again fall behind with more updates but I am doing the best I can.
I think I am just going to randomly jot down some thoughts or things that have been happening lately so bare with me.
The day of my brother’s wedding- I woke up anxious, nervous and sick to my stomach. No idea if it had to do with my father or imagining what my brother must be thinking, but I was sick and anxious nonetheless. I also think it had to do with my state of affairs- going through a divorce, feeling I failed and life feel apart and then being confused about what I truly wanted in life. My boyfriend was feeling me out on the marriage thing and I was not sure why and I was not sure if I did or did not want that. I suppose at that moment, I did not need to know for sure, but I was anxious and very confused the morning of my brother’s wedding. Actually the week leading up to the wedding and the days after the wedding were horrible for me. I cried for 3 days after my brother got married thinking of my father not being there- wondering if this was really all happening as some days it feels like a fog or a real bad dream. I imagined my poor brother and how young he was and my father missed a very significant time in his life. I just thought about how my father should have been there and how he knew he would not be. When my brother booked his wedding the year prior- my father turned to me and my brother and said, “September …..of next year? That is over a year away. I will not be here in a year.” We all told him to stop saying that and my brother was very upset when my father made those comments, but in the end, my father knew best. In the days after my brother’s wedding I thought about how on his deathbed, he apologized to my brother for being so sick and for not being able to be at his wedding. It seems so far away, yet I remember it like it was just yesterday. Some days it feels surreal.
For some reason I have been thinking of my father a lot lately- just about every day. Yesterday I was in the basement looking for something that I wanted to sell at my yard sale last year but have found a use for it if I still had it in my possession. I never did find what I was looking for but ran across some of his camera equipment. It was old and he had not used it in years and years but it was sitting there getting all moldy and musty. The was another cabinet with some of his more recent equipment and the stuff he used most which we removed from the trunk of his car when we sold was upstairs in my mother’s bedroom closet. She seems to have no use for it so the other day she made a comment about selling it on e-bay, calling up my father’s old Newsday friends and seeing if any of them could sell it or get rid of it for her. I was very upset by this. His entire life- things that had actual dollar value not to mention sentimental value were pieces of useless junk to her. She wanted to throw away his camera equipment….. and why- so she can fill the house will useless clutter that she collects from the Dollar Store? I told her that my sister wanted some of it but when she came for the wedding it was in the back of the closet and she did not have time to look at it. My mother just wants it all gone. I don’t get her sometimes- she misses him and is mad that he died on her, but when it comes to his valuables, she can give them away as easily as one would a used T-shirt.
Well, as I had started to say, I was looking for something in the basement and when I saw his stuff collecting dust, it saddened me. He had boxes of photos he had mounted for contest he was entered in and it made me think what else was down there. So I started looking and stumbled upon newer equipment and I began to think that perhaps I should take them all and put them in my storage unit before they disappeared as a result of my mother. I started poking through his camera bag and looking at the lenses. Some of them were scratched and probably would not photograph well, but others looked half way decent. Then it got me to thinking- I like taking photos- a secret hobby of mine- maybe my father’s legacy left behind but truth be told, I have no idea what I am doing. I have a camera that takes good photos I suppose although some would argue it is the photographer that makes for good photos and not the actual camera being used. But looking at all the equipment it bothered me some that this was my father’s profession and I have no clue how to use a real camera. I won a Sony something or other in a contest. It has a great lense/ zoom capabilities and some other cool features but it is nothing fancy as far as I am concerned. I supposed you could buy other lenses for it but I wouldn’t have a clue how to use them anyway. My father always told me the camera was a piece of crap and to get a real one. So there I was with a real camera, a bag full of lenses and a legacy left behind by an award winning photographer and sadly I had no clue how to use any of it. My father took the time to show complete strangers how to use their cameras- how to set the exposures, use the flash, which lenses would worked best under which circumstances. He would be at family functions showing uncles, aunts and cousins how to use their equipment but never once did he spend the time to teach any of his kids. So here I am with all his equipment and while I know it is not useless junk, as far as I am concerned it is to me because I have no ideas what it is used for or how to use it properly. Perhaps I should make the time to learn- I meant to really learn, but I lived with a professional photographer who definitely got me into photography, but who never really showed me a damn thing other than what I learned observing him or being criticized by him over the years. How messed up is that? Looking back, I bet he feels sorry now and wishes he had made more time for his family, but he did not and now it is too late. So a basement and a closet full of junk is what I inherited – perhaps one day I can get a stranger to show me how to use it. Let’s just hope they do not neglect their family in the process.
I never intended my writing to go this way but it did. It is almost 11:30pm and I could literally be up for three more hours if not more typing all I have to say but I have work tomorrow and an early start at that so I will have to wrap it up soon. Before I do, I want to say one thing that has been bothering me since I am on the topic of my father. While he never taught me to use a real camera, he certainly got me interested in photos and picture taking. I take tons of photos each year and then come the holiday time I order a years worth at once. Most things are digital but I always like to print out my favorites for a photo album or get the really good ones framed to hang around the house. I also do a lot of photo projects or print my photos up and frame them for others as holiday gifts. We are approaching the time of year when I normally order pictures. Perhaps that is why I have been thinking of my father so. I have to admit, looking back, it was so, so hard at times. From one album to the next it was as if I was reliving his deterioration right before my eyes. And then, then there came a point where he was just no longer a part of any more family memories.
My father may have not been the world’s best dad, but he was goofy and full of life- willing to be the butt of a joke if it made someone laugh or smile for a good photo. He would dance around and pull his ears, scratch his head and make monkey noises with the camera ready to click if he was photographing a child, patiently waiting for just the right moment to stop the head scratching and focus the lens. We went places- he laughed, was outspoken and made a complete spectacle of himself when he caught a big fish- another of his favorite hobbies. He was just full of life. Looking back at the photos and remembering the good times- it was hard. That is who he was. He died well before he should have and mixed in with all his photo equipment were doctor’s forms, information on liver transplants and test results showing nothing positive. While not perfect, my father was a good man and so full of life – that is until the very end. I wish I could remember him as such as so many others got to do but those are unfortunately not my last memories of him.
I remember the good times and laugh at the funny things like the time he locked himself in the shed and left 10 messages on the answering machine from his cell phone begging for someone to come outside and let him out- he was in the dark and couldn’t see a thing. I remember the time my brother painted his toe nails red when he fell asleep in the chair and did not tell him until we were out in public and my father had flip flops on. He was so embarrassed but went almost the whole summer with painted toenails for some reason. I remember the excitement and joy in his face when he had a “FISH ON” or how he would yell- “Come on blue eyes- wiggle your hips for me” when he thought he had a big fish on the hook. Sometimes it was seaweed and we would all laugh at him. There were the times when my brother put sea water in his drink or the time he put bait on my father’s sandwich. My father of course would get pissed, but he always let it go or like a little kid would wait until he thought you forgot and then play another prank on the other person in retaliation. Those are the things I would like to remember about him. Those are the things I do remember about him, but mostly, I remember how he suffered- I mean really suffered.
A man that was stocky and full of life went to skin and bones. A man that around this time last year was in the hospital for a collapsed lung, dehydration shortly after and then an endoscopy right before Thanksgiving which would pick up on a cancer diagnosis. Later that diagnosis threw him off the transplant list- even with a live donor volunteer. I remember a man that was taken to the hospital by ambulance in a hepatic coma- shaking, yellow and his eyes rolling back in his head. I remember a man that as the results of toxins building in his brain went from funny and full of life to nasty. I remember a man I had to carry up and down the stairs. I remember a man that I had to dress and then help out to the car – sometimes for 5 doctors appointments in one week. I remember a man that forgot my name, forgot how to write, stopped reading because he was too tired but I really think looking back, he forgot how. I remember him too weak to walk from one end of the room to the other and I remember watching him from afar as his spine stuck out from the back of his shirt.
I remember a man that was full of life and that I use to play baseball and football in the yard when I was a child that I now had to help off the toilet. I remember a man that I had to prepare meals for, force feed and bundle up because he has so little body fat he was always freezing. I remember a man that in the end had trouble breathing, a man that could not get comfortable for 5 minutes, a man that was in so much discomfort he asked me to put an end to it. I remember a man that slipped into a coma that I never got to say good bye to and I remember a man who turned yellow and jaundice but that has such bad circulation- his hands and feet were literally black. I remember thinking in his final moments I could warm them up by pulling linens off the cart and wrapping his hands and feet in towels and blankets thinking that would help matters. I remember a man that took his last breath and the tear the fell from the corner of his eye as I reached over to close his eyelids when he was no longer with us. That is not who I want to remember, but unfortunately, that is who I remember.
Perhaps it has to do with the timing of the year and where things are now compared to where they were last year. As the year draws to a close and each week passes, I have vivid memories of where my father’s health was one year ago. I remember what problem he was admitted to the hospital for this week, which doctor appointment I took him to that week and I have a feeling as the weeks draw closer, the memories and reminders will get worse and worse. If you start at the very beginning of my blog you will see how bad it was, why I started to write and that I feared his health was such that he would not be around much longer. I am pretty intuitive, but that is one thing I wish I did predict with such great accuracy.
I have so many memories- some good and some bad but mostly I wish I could forget the bad. I have not been to the cemetery since before his birthday in July. I am feeling a bit guilty about that and as Thanksgiving approaches, I feel I should go and see him but I know that I will break down in tears and it will be a bad scene. The week before Thanksgiving last year I took my father for a surprise visit to the cemetery to see his father, mother and brother. I brought roses from our yard that were somehow still in bloom and a box of tissues. I had to argue with my father to even get out of the house. He was at a state where he wanted to sleep all day and stay in his pajamas. I forced him to get dressed, refused to tell him where I was going until we got there and then handed him the roses and the tissues which I knew he would need unbeknown to him at the time. When we left, he thanked me for taking him there. He told me that I never ceased to surprise him and that he had made his peace with his family who he stopped visiting some years ago. Never did I think a year later I would be looking at those stray roses in the cold of November contemplating taking them to my father’s grave as I did for his father the year before.
Life can change on a dime. Be good to the people you love and never take the little things in life for granted. Make time for those you care most about and tell them you love them everyday so that when you are gone, they never have to wonder. That is the best advice I can offer on this late Tuesday evening. And with that, I bid you farewell.
Until I write again…….
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