Blog 75: Letter To Mom

The following is a letter I wrote for my mom and read at her funeral service.  I started the letter the night before and finished it before leaving for the funeral.  It was so hard for me to write it.  I was grieving, I was emotionally drained, and exhausted, but I wanted to do this for my mom.  It was my last gift to her.

When the song Amazing Grace was finished playing, it was my cue to go to the front.  I walked up to Mom's casket and I told her I love her and that I wrote her a letter.  Looking at her, I just couldn't believe this was happening.  Just one week ago we were together, laughing and talking about her finally getting to go home.  She was showing me how to whistle and we ate chocolate and loved on each other like we always did.  I painted her nails and she was still wearing that polish while laying in her casket.  I didn't know she'd be buried in a week.  I swear, I thought I was going to just break down and cry my eyes out.  I asked God to please give me the strength to be able to read my letter. The chaplain had told me previously that if I can't get through it he will read it for me.  I wanted to read it all.

I walked up to the podium and told everyone that this was so hard for me to do but I was going to do my best, and I started reading.  I cried throughout, but God gave me the strength to continue.  I felt His hand on me and I felt my mom's love, and I was able to read my letter.


Dear Mom,

It’s been three days now since you’ve been gone and I can’t seem to comprehend the fact that I am never going to see your beautiful face again.  I’m never going to hear your wonderful soothing voice, or your laughter, or you saying my name and telling me that you love me.  I’m not ever going to be able to talk to you on the phone, or touch your skin, hug you, and hold your hand.  We won’t be able to share stories with each other or comfort each other, or whistle together and eat chocolate together.  Just having you around, just knowing you were here, was so comforting.  I will live the rest of my life without you and it hurts so much.  I don’t know how I can live without you, mom.  I need you still.  I feel selfish for saying that because I know you are at peace now and in a better place with Jesus. 

I’ve had a hard time writing this letter to you, mom.  I couldn’t find the words.  There’s too much I want to say and not enough time to process those thoughts.  All I can do is mourn and grieve right now and try to get through each day, one day at a time, one hour at a time, one minute at a time.   Right now I just want you to know that the things I learned from you are what made me the woman I am today.  You taught me how to love and how to put my family first.  You taught me how to be a mom and a nana. You didn’t tell me how to do those things, you showed me by your example.  You thought of others before yourself.  You showed me that family sticks together, and you were the rock that kept us together.  You taught me that no matter what bad things happen to us in life, we can get through it.  You never judged me for the mistakes I made and you always knew my intentions were good.  You were my mom and you accepted me as I am and loved me unconditionally.  You made me feel special, and you made me feel important.  That’s what moms do, and that’s what you did perfectly, for all of your daughters.   You loved us all the same. 

You always told us when we were growing up that we should never hate anyone.  You said that we may not like their ways, but we don’t hate them.  I still think of that today.  I also remember you getting really mad at us if we swore and you gave us a list of words that we could say if we got mad.  Those words were dang it and darn it.  Anything else was unacceptable.  When I grew into adulthood, I could never swear in front of you.  That’s because I respected you.  There’s more stories I could tell you about, that I remember so dearly.  I hope to share these stories with my sisters and they share theirs with me so that we can keep all of those memories alive for the rest of our lives. 

I will think of you every time I eat ice cream.  Right now I cry every time I eat because you couldn’t eat in your last days…not even ice cream.  I will think of you when I look at the music box you gave me, it plays the song Unchained Melody.  Everything you ever gave me will be cherished and saved through the generations.  I think of you ALL the time when I am with my grandchildren.  I can understand the love you had for my children and all of your grandchildren.  I understand that love and I find myself doing the same things you did, and the feeling I have, I know that’s how you felt.  I will think of you on every holiday, every birthday, and every time I hear the song You Are My Sunshine.  I just know I will think of you all of the time.  As time goes on, they say the pain will subside, but I will always miss you, always. 

Mom, there are so many things I want to share about you.  I’ve been finding myself just wanting to talk to someone, anyone, about you.  I want to tell them about what a wonderful mom you were.  I want to tell them detailed stories.  I want everyone who hasn’t had the pleasure of meeting you know what a truly loving and kind person you were.  I hope that you don’t mind that I talk about you so much.  I guess it just helps me feel that you are still around.   

You will always live in my heart, mom, and in the hearts of everyone who loved you.   We will keep your memory alive, and I can promise you, there’s not a single one of us who will let a day go by without thinking of you and missing you.  You should feel like you accomplished something great while you were here on this Earth.  It’s our job to show you the greatness you achieved as you look down upon your family… your family, your pride and joy, your happiness in life.  You have quite a legacy you’ve left behind, and you should be very proud.  I hope we can always make you proud.  Right now you are dancing with the angels in Heaven, mom.  Your feet and your legs are moving gracefully, your eyes are bright and gleaming, and your heart is filled with joy.  God called you home so that you can be free of your pain and live in wholeness again.  Someday we will be together, but in a way, we are always going to be together because you left a part of you in all of us, and you took a piece of us to Heaven with you.  I love you mom and I miss you so much. 

Your loving daughter,

Lizzie

Blog 70: She's Sexy and She Knows It

My mom was all giddy when I spoke to her on the phone the other day.   I knew the reason why as soon as her caregiver told me they hired another person, and it’s a man.  That explained her giddiness.  Ever since Mom became ill with Alzheimer’s she has taken a renewed interest in men.  I remember how she fell head over heels for a young caregiver in his twenties at the assisted living facility she was in a year and a half ago.  It’s almost like she is a young schoolgirl in love again.  She misunderstands the care and attention she receives from them as if they have romantic feelings for her.  It’s not every man, only the ones who are very sweet and caring towards her and engage in playful conversation.   You can’t blame her for that, isn’t that what most women like? Alzheimer’s hasn’t changed that part about her.  

My mom was once a very sexy woman with a gorgeous body and beautiful face.  Men adored her.   That, I know.  I think she knew she was sexy when we were young girls, though she never acted that way.  She was very modest.  She didn’t fall for men as easily as they fell for her.  I do remember watching her get all dolled up when she went on dates after my parents divorced around 1969.  I just sat on her bed and watched her put on all that stuff before she even put her dress on…bra, panties, garter belt, stockings, slip, perfume, powder, make-up, and rollers in her hair.  I thought, geez, I don’t ever want to grow up if I have to put all that stuff on!  I only wish I had pictures of her then.  She was not one to take pictures, so all of that is only a memory I have.  It is no longer a memory of hers, so I am keeping it safe for both of us.

Here's a picture of my mom and dad.  I'm not sure of the year but I think it was after my birth in 1956.  My mom went on to have four more daughters but she never lost her beautiful figure.  I showed her this picture three months ago and she said her name and my dad's name, and acted as if it wasn't even her.

Just moments before talking on the phone with my mom, I could hear her yelling at the top of her lungs as this new man was walking her down the hallway to change her diaper.   I hate using that word and much prefer to use the term undergarment, but the reality is she can no longer use the toilet, and so she goes in her diaper and has to be changed like a baby.  And sadly, my mom doesn’t see that as a total embarrassment as she would have just a couple of years ago.  What choice does she have anyway?  She doesn’t even know herself anymore.  She used to always say she had a shy bladder and she never wanted anyone to be around when she used the restroom, let alone a man.  Life is different for her now. 

I chatted with this new caregiver and got his name before he gave my mom the phone.  He speaks good English, so I am happy that I will be able to talk to him more easily about my mom.  I told him I will be visiting my mom next week and I look forward to meeting him.    Soon I will get to see my mom again.  Excitement and apprehension is what I always feel before I see her.  I know, I know, my mom may not recognize me when she sees me.

Mom took the phone and we had our usual, yet very unusual, conversation.  However, she was laughing more, right from the get-go.  She was giddy, maybe love struck again?  Does she feel sexy?  And you know what?  I hope she does.  I am certain she had already forgotten about getting her diaper changed just moments earlier.  As I said in a previous post, Mom doesn’t make much sense anymore.  Her voice is exactly the same and I so love to hear her voice.  Most of the time I just talk and ask her if she is still there and she responds with a ‘yeah’.   I sang ‘You are My Sunshine’ like I always do and she made some la, la, la sounds.   I told her that her granddaughter, my daughter, is getting married next year.  I’ve told her that many times before but of course she doesn’t remember.  It’s really heartbreaking that she won’t be able to attend the wedding, though I try not to think about that.  Mom asked me if she has a baby yet.  I was surprised to hear her say something that actually made sense.  She used to tease my daughter and her boyfriend about when they are going to have a baby.  Then I asked her if she could name her daughters because she seemed to be just a little more ‘with it’ than usual.  Of course she couldn’t, and all she said was, “There’s a lot of them in the garage.” 

It was good to hear my mom laugh and be happy, even though it’s sad that she is not the same.  I guess if she’s going to have Alzheimer’s and dementia, she might as well enjoy herself and be happy in this mixed up world of hers, because it's better than being miserable.  I certainly don’t want her to be as sad as I am that she is drifting away and losing herself and all of the memories of her daughters and everything else about her life.  If she feels sexy, then I can smile, because that will make her happy.    

Blog 67: The Other Part of Life | Keeping Life in Balance

My blog has been written with so much emotion and heartache.  I can be such an emotional wreck when it comes to my mom and what's happened with my sisters.  I’ve not spent much time writing about happy things.  It’s the nature of the subject, Alzheimer’s.  Seeing my mom suffer with this disease has been the worst thing I’ve ever had to endure.  But as I have said before, we all have to live our lives and find enjoyment and happiness, because we only have one shot at life.  We have to maintain that healthy balance in order to have any quality of life.  My mom would want that for me, and for all of her daughters.  I try my best to continue to live a life that my mom would be proud of because she was always so proud of me before.   She wants me to be happy, and that is the greatest gift I can give her.

"When life gives you a hundred reasons to cry, show life that you have a thousand reasons to smile."

Let me take you away from Alzheimer’s and dementia in this blog post and tell you a little bit about me and the other part of my life…

I am first and foremost a mom.  That is my primary role, and what I feel has been my purpose in this life.  Even though my kids are now adults, they are still and always will be my world.  I would do anything for them, and I learned how to love that way from my mom.  I am very much a family oriented person.  My life is not one of fame and fortune, or of making a huge difference in the world.  It’s about making a difference in the lives of the small group of people I have the privilege of sharing my life with.  

When I was a young woman, at 18 years of age, I married my high school sweetheart.  We had three absolutely wonderful children.  I stayed home and raised them until the youngest was in school.  I took a part-time job and eventually worked full-time when the kids were older.  Our kids were very involved in sports, dance, music, and drama, and we met ourselves coming and going with all of their activities, and our jobs.  We also designed and built (by ourselves) a log home in the country. 

The marriage lasted 25 years and we parted ways once we realized we grew up and grew apart.   My ex and I get along well with each other and make it a point to keep our family unit intact.  Our kids said that they had the best childhood, and a parent couldn’t ask for anything better than that.  I feel proud to have been a part of the reason for them feeling that way.

My oldest daughter is married, and has two little girls.   They live less than a mile away from me in Arizona, and are the reason why I moved here.  I wanted to be near my grandchildren, who are now 3 and 4 years old.  It’s wonderful to have these little ones around to make me smile, laugh, and feel young again.  Nothing feels as good as my little grand kids running into my arms, excited to see their Nana.

My son is my middle child, and he and his wife live in California.  They have an adorable little boy who is three years old.   When I made the decision to leave Iowa, I couldn’t afford to buy a house in Marin County, where my son lives.  Hence, I didn’t move there.  At least I am in closer proximity now and it’s easier to travel there from here.  It’s important for me to have a close relationship with all of my grandchildren, so between visits with my grandson, I keep in touch with him by phone and skype.  It's wonderful that we have the technology that allows us to see and interact with each other like this.  I am going to see them in person next weekend and I can’t wait!
  

My youngest daughter lives in Chicago and is engaged to be married next year.  I'm thrilled to have all of my kids married to wonderful people, who I consider my kids now, too.  I’m still working on trying to get them to move here but my daughter is not ready to leave yet.  I get to see her often since I go back to Chicago to visit my mom.   All of my children have grown up to be caring, compassionate, smart, successful, and loving individuals, and I couldn’t be prouder.   

Family is so important to me and I just wish all of my family could live near each other.  If Iowa would have had the job opportunities for my kids’ in their chosen careers, they wouldn’t have left Iowa and I’m pretty certain we would all still be living there.   Like many families, though, we are spread out across the country. 

I worked for many years in the social service field for not-for-profit organizations, then for a law firm, and lastly a financial planning firm.  I am 56 years old and retired.   My days are now spent working in my yard, blogging, volunteering, assisting my daughter with her photography business, traveling to see my family, working out at the gym, jogging, hiking, spending time with my friends, and now...wedding planning.  I’ve also taken up painting as a hobby and have set a goal to do two paintings a month.  I’m also big into organizing and I know exactly where everything is in my house.  I should have become a professional organizer.  :)

I love to travel and try to go someplace new every year.  Last year I went to Alaska for the first time.  I lived in Europe for one year in high school and went back to Europe for a month of traveling four years ago.  I’m adventurous and passionate for life, and always up for something fun to do.  I am enjoying this part of my life right now.  My friends are awesome and have been there for me so many times when I just needed to talk to someone.  They've filled the void where my sisters once were.  I have a man in my life, who is so supportive and wonderful to me.  I feel healthy, in shape, still look young (so I’ve been told), and am so grateful for many, many things.   I thank God for His blessings.

Is everything perfect in my life...(the life outside of Alzheimer's)?  No, not at all.  I have made a lot of mistakes in my life, and I know that that's just part of being human.  I just choose to be happy.  It's a choice. 

Those of you who are reading this and are living with someone with Alzheimer’s, please remember to take care of YOU.  Find a way.  Your loved one would want that for you.  Keep a healthy balance in your life.  It can’t all be bad.  Believe me, I know it can be hard at times.  Try to have fun and do something that makes you happy.  Life is short, and life can be taken away from us at any moment.   There’s a time and a place for living your life, and it is NOW. 

Blog 66: Song, and 50 Minutes With Mom on Easter

My mom was one of those talented people who could sew, paint, and cook, just to name of few of her many talents.  She made the best potato salad and meatloaf.  I wish I could make it the same but that's just impossible.  Last night I made an attempt to replicate her potato salad for our Easter cookout today, but it just doesn't compare.  I thought about her every step of the way and felt as though she was with me, guiding me in the process. 

I can’t help but think about my mom when a holiday comes around and today is no exception.  I guess I think about her so much because everything started with her.  All of my early childhood memories involved her.  It’s pretty clear she has been a huge influence on my life and no doubt on my sister's lives as well.  My mom was made for us, and we were made for her.   This beautiful song just says it all.  It's called The Story...

 

It was three years ago that we celebrated the last family Easter at my mom’s house.  Much has changed since then.   Her house has been sold, Mom is in an elderly group home now, and her Alzheimer’s has taken much of who she was away and left a weak, feeble body.  This horrible disease has taken it's toll on our family, too.  Here’s a picture of my family in happier times when we were much younger.  This was taken on Easter, in 1965, at my grandparent’s farm. 

I called to talk to my mom on the phone today and got an extra special surprise.  Usually I can only keep the conversation going for about five to ten minutes before she hands the caregiver the phone or the caregiver takes the phone, but this time Mom held the phone up to her ear and we talked for 50 minutes!  The caregiver walked away and left Mom with the phone and surprisingly she held the phone steady by her ear. 

Most of the time the conversation was one-sided and revolved around me trying to get her to talk or answer questions.  She never asks questions anymore so it’s pretty much up to me to get her to talk.  Even though much of what she said didn’t make sense, I’m beginning to understand her language and take from it what I think she is trying to say.   She usually only gets the first part of a sentence out before she stops talking, and I assume it's because she forgets what she was going to say or she is unable to formulate her thoughts.  She did however say some memorable things and I always write those things down.   It's like keeping a part of her with me forever.  I cling to those moments of clarity and meaning in her words.

I must have told her I love her twenty times and each time she said it right back to me. I love hearing those words come out of her mouth.   She couldn’t say my name and she couldn’t name her other daughters.  I tried to help her by starting with my name and going down the line but nothing would help.  She couldn’t say our names today, but maybe she can tomorrow.  I know she recognized my voice and knows me as being someone familiar and I believe she still knows I'm her daughter.  After all, she told me she loves me twenty times today!  I think if I was in front of her she would be able to say my name.  At least I hope so.  

I felt close to mom this Easter because we got to spend some time together, uninterrupted.  This was a wonderful Easter gift and truly a miracle that Mom held the phone for that long.  That hasn’t happened in a very long time.  I needed her today and I felt like she needed me, too.   We got 50 minutes together, time that we both needed, and I’m happy.      

Blog 58: My Dad

I haven’t said much about my dad on this blog but I wanted to make this post about him because he was a very special person in my life.  He was my dad, and I loved him very much.

I don’t remember Dad being around much when we were little.   He worked for the government and was retired from the Army.   He was gone in the evenings a lot, and when he was home, he didn’t play with us, as far as I can remember. 

One early memory I have is when I was about six years old.  I went to my friend’s house a couple of houses away to ask her if she could come out and play.  Her dad came to the door and started yelling at me for no reason at all.  I quickly turned around and started running down the sidewalk as he came chasing after me.  My dad was in our front yard and he ran to my rescue.  He got up in the guy’s face and yelled at him, and I peed my pants before I reached the safety of my mom’s arms.  She whisked me into the house and changed my clothes.  I never did learn what that was all about.  My parents didn’t know why that man did that either.

Some of the other memories I have of my dad, when he and my mom were married, are not very good.  He was often grouchy.  Dad was very strict with us girls and we were afraid of getting spanked by him.  The thing is, we were pretty well-behaved kids, we were just kids, and sometimes we would do something he didn’t like and then we’d get it.  Many times if one sister got in trouble, we all got spankings.  We’d have to line up, oldest to youngest, or the other way around, and lay over Dad’s knee for a few swats to the rear end.   I don’t know which was worse, watching all of my sisters scream and cry before me, or being the first, when his hand was the strongest.  I do remember one or two times that he would start laughing…laughing at our kicking legs, our scared faces, us holding our rear ends in preparation for or after the spanking, or laughing at the fact that he couldn’t believe he was doing that, who knows.   

We always sat at the table for meals and we had to eat everything on our plates.  If I didn’t like something, Dad would cut a hunk of fat and put it on my plate and tell me to eat that instead.  There were times I sat at the table for hours, my sisters too.  I learned a few tricks of hiding my vegetables under the chicken skin or under my plate.  If Dad was engrossed in a television program he didn’t inspect my plate and I could get away with it.   I think sometimes my mom would grab the plate and let me get up.   

Dad wasn’t one of those dads that would hold us in his lap and make us feel safe, loved and protected.  None of us would say that we were Daddy’s girl.  I do have one or two pictures of me in Dad’s lap when I was a baby but I don’t remember that.  He did look lovingly at me in those photos and that makes me feel good.  I look at my son and my son-in-law and I see how wonderful they are with their kids, so engaging and playful, and so loving and protective, and how much my grandchildren love to sit on their daddy’s laps. 

The only time I recall sitting in my dad’s lap was after he slapped me across the face and left his hand print because I didn’t know how to light the stove to heat up my sister’s bottle when mom wasn’t home.  Renee was a little baby and she was crying loudly for her bottle.  I was eight years old and didn’t know how to strike a match and start the gas on the stove to light it.   I was scared to death of it, but I tried because I was more scared of my dad.   Dad came in the house from working in the garden and yelled at me because I couldn’t get the job done and his hand came across my face like a lightening bolt.  I remember he held me in the chair after he calmed down and realized what he had done and rubbed my face and kissed my hair and said he was so sorry.  I think he cried but I can’t remember because I was in shock.  My face stung, my eyes stung from crying, and my heart hurt, badly.  It didn’t feel good to be in his lap.  I can never recall that memory without crying.  It was one of the most hurtful times of my childhood.   I wore his handprint on my cheek for the next several days.  That’s why I was afraid of my dad. 

Mom and Dad divorced when I was around eleven or twelve years old.  Mom never talked badly about him, she just said they divorced because he liked to bowl too much.   There was a woman in Dad’s life soon after and we found out years later that she was the reason for the divorce.  Even though Dad wasn’t around much and he was strict, I didn’t want him to leave.  I went through a couple of tough years and my mom even brought me in for counseling.  I used to pretend to my friends that my dad still lived with us.  I used to beg Mom to ask him to come back.  But Dad wasn’t coming back.  While he was on his third tour of duty in Vietnam, he married a Vietnamese woman.  He went on to have two more children, a girl, and finally, a boy.  They were raised differently.  He mellowed out and didn’t spank them.  In fact, he was very lenient with them.  I think he wanted to make up for the way he was with his first five daughters.  

Dad used to pick us up and take us to church on Sundays and then bring us over to our grandmother's house.  He'd sit and watch football and have us all take turns combing his hair.  We'd sometimes play croquet in the backyard and go to Sandy's for lunch.   We didn't really enjoy being there.  His mom, our grandmother, was strict.  She was the opposite of our mom's mom (Grandma), who was very loving and kind.  Though I did love my grandmother, too.   I accepted her the way she was.  

My sister Lynda and I went to live with our dad in Germany, when we were in high school.   My mom thought it’d be a good experience for us and we were only there for a year.  It was then that he had his first daughter with his Vietnamese wife.  Dad was strict with us over there, too.  But the day we left Germany, when it was time to board our flight, Dad grabbed each of us and embraced us in a big bear hug and cried like a baby.  I didn't think he was so sad to see us go, until that happened.  I remember boarding the plane and feeling so sad for Dad.  That was the first time I saw my dad cry.  It was to be the first of many tears.  

After that, as the years went on we didn’t really spend much time together, and he seemed to change in those years.  Dad transformed into a different person, with a soft heart and a gentleness about him.  I think of that song, “The Cat’s In The Cradle,” because that’s kind of the way it was.  He wasn’t around for us when we were growing up and he had time for us now, but we were busy with our families, our kids, and had moved on in our lives without him being a big part of it.

Dad would call and we’d get together on occasion.  We would go bowling and out for pizza, or play croquet in our Grandmother’s backyard.  Sometimes we’d all get together at one of our homes.  He loved fireworks on the 4h of July and would have big cookouts at his house.  I always think of him on the 4^th of July.  My sisters and I would joke with him about how he made us eat everything, and we would all laugh about it.   We always talked about our childhood, but always in a light kind of way.  He often cried.  He regretted so much about how he was back then, and the divorce from our mom, that it got to the point where I couldn’t stand to see the pain in his face.  I told Dad that I forgave him and I reassured him that I love him so very much.  It just killed me to see him cry because I know that as bad as I felt about that slap across the face, he felt a million times worse, and I didn’t want him to live the rest of his life with that kind of suffering and regret. I’m so glad I told him I forgave him, and even though I don’t know how much better it made him feel, it really helped me to let go of a lot of the pain I had been carrying.

We had a much better relationship as I got older, and he got older.  I know there were many years of my young adult life that I felt a little jealous of my half sister and brother.  Dad was more loving to them, more involved with them, at least it seemed that way.   They got birthday and Christmas presents and we didn’t.   They weren’t afraid of him like we were.  They had the best years with him. 

Dad would call my sisters and me and want us to go to the family reunions.  He loved those reunions and he would say he wants to show off his daughters.  There were many times I didn’t go because I got busy with my kids, and life in general.  But the times I did go, I really enjoyed it.   Dad made it so obvious to us, and to our relatives, that he was proud of his daughters.  Dad was so happy at the reunions.  He was really a family oriented person, I just didn’t realize it when I was little.  I think the stresses of marrying so young, having five children in a relatively short period of time, was just something he wasn’t ready for and didn't take responsibility for.

My dad was an adventurous person.  He loved traveling and collecting things in his travels.  He read books and was knowledgeable about world affairs and subjects that interested him.  The Cubs and the Bears were his favorite teams.  Someone beating him in trivia?  Forget it.  He was a people person, and loved being with and talking to others.  He was always up for something to do, even when he became ill, he was always willing to get into the car and go somewhere.  He embraced life...he loved life!

Around 2000, we realized something was wrong with our dad.  It turns out he was diagnosed with Parkinson’s and Lewy Body Disease.  What in the world was Lewy Body, we thought, and how in the world did he get it?  Back then, even some of the health care professionals didn’t know what it was.  It was certainly something new to me.  My sister Lynda and I would go with our half sister to all of Dad’s neurological appointments.  Dad was getting worse.  It broke my heart!  Just when we were getting close and mending our past hurts, he was slipping away from us.  I spent as much time with him as I could.  Lynda did, too.  My other sisters didn’t seem to be as close to him then, but they really didn’t have many memories since Dad moved out when they were so young. 

I made sure my dad knew how much I loved him, and I forgave him.  I wanted him to forgive me too, for not being a bigger part of his life when I was a young adult.  I was hurting so bad to see him suffer.  Was this something that could have been prevented?  Why did he get this disease?  I didn’t understand.  I only saw a good man in front of me.  My dad, my wonderful, amazing, loving dad, was all I saw.  My only dad I would ever have. 

Dad went to a nursing home towards the end.  I put up a small Christmas tree for him.  He still knew me, but he became so weak with pneumonia at the very end that he just layed in his bed with a stare.  I whispered in his ear and I said, “Dad, it’s ok to go.  Don’t be scared.  Go on to Heaven, Dad.  We’ll be together again someday.”  In the middle of that night he was transported to the hospital and the next day he died.  That was December 12, 2005.  All of my dad’s kids were there except for Renee, who lived out of state, Dad’s brothers and his wife, and his ex-wife (my mom), were there when Dad took his final breath.   My brother said a prayer and a preacher came in and prayed, and the nurse administered morphine and pulled the oxygen mask.  Then he was gone. 

I sat with Dad after he passed and talked to him, but I don’t remember the words I spoke.  We would all go to the hallway and sit on the floor and then return to his room one by one to say what we wanted to say.  It was so hard to have him gone, even though his suffering was now over.  There was no more opportunity to learn more from him, to make up for lost time, to hear his voice and his laugh…and to go to family reunions with him.

I know my dad is in Heaven.  He turned his life over to Christ years before he became ill.  He was a changed man, and I’m proud to call him my dad.   I loved him with all the love a daughter can have for her dad, and I miss him so much.  

Blog 57: Memories of Nana

About seven years ago all of us girls wrote down our own special memories of our mom, and our children wrote of their wonderful memories of their nana.   We gathered these writings and put them in a book to give to Mom on her birthday.   This was years before Mom was diagnosed with Alzheimer's.   

"When you look into your mother's eyes, you know that is the purest love you can find on this earth."  Mitch Albom 

Mom's 77th birthday is approaching at the end of this month, and I searched my file cabinet to find copies of the letters, because I remembered that time and how special it was.  The ones who could be there, gathered around and laughed and cried as we read our letters to Mom.  

The following were written by my three children... 

From Denise…

“I have many fond memories with Nana.  Some of my best memories come from the times when Nicole and I used to spend the night at her house.  Nana was always so good to us.  I can remember countless times when she’d drive us to go ice-skating or go to the movies, etc.  Oh, and I can’t leave out the yard sales!  We’d drive around for hours going to yard sales.  My items of choice were usually baby clothes that I’d use for my dolls.  And Nana’s negotiation skills were impeccable.  Seems like it didn’t matter if the item was marked $15, if Nana wanted it she’d leave having only spent a nickel.  Remarkable.  And other times we wouldn’t really do anything at all.  We’d just sit at the table and eat macaroni and cheese and talk.  I hope that Nana knows how grateful I am for all that she did for me and Nicole.  I’m sure we could be a handful at times, but we really enjoyed the time we spent not only with each other, but also with her.  Thank you, Nana.  I love you!”

From John…

“Nana is the best Nana anyone could ever ask for.  So many times I sit in my California home and reminisce about all the great times I’ve had hanging out with her, all the while remembering the little things I’ve learned in life by following her lead.   Little things such as the fact that I always have a refrigerator stocked with Coke to offer guests, and the reason I don’t walk around my house eating a sandwich without a plate (we all know how she is about crumbs).  She’s also the reason I blame the squeaks in the floor when I pick up any of those hard-to-find crumbs that slip off the plate and I accidentally toot.  Maybe I should learn to follow her lead a bit more so the next time I’m over at her house I don’t hit my head on the ceiling when I walk down the stairs.  But most of all I think about how she loved to be around the grandchildren; willing to take on me, Brooke, Rose and Michael all at once.  Babysitting Denise and Nicole had to be the biggest handful but I never remember Nana complaining one bit, never yelled at me for a single thing, even if it was completely obvious I was the one who made the mess in the basement.

If you all are wondering why in the world I would leave the great state of Iowa and move to California, blame Nana.  The main reason I moved out here was to get Nana an autograph of one of those ice skaters that she loves so dearly.  Which one was it?  Anyway, I’ll find that person and my duty out here will be complete.  And I’ll be sure to tell Tom Cruise to get a life.  I miss you Nana.  I love you soooo much and my plane rides home are actually enjoyable because not only will I get to see my parents and sisters, but I also get to hang out with you and talk to you as if you’re one of my boys.  I could write so much more about what you have meant to me but Kristi Yamaguchi is paging me and wants to know who the heck Nana is?!?  Take care and I love you lots!”

From Rose...

"So here I am, at my desk, beginning to write my contribution to a book of combined memories of my Nana. 

This will be easy, I thought to myself, when I was asked to come up with one of the fondest memories I have of my grandma.  Quite the opposite of my assumption, I have come to realize how much I was mistaken.  What if I have too many good memories to choose from?  Well, my Nana has provided me with 28 years of memories.

One of my biggest memories of Nana is when I was able to sleep over night at her house.  Usually I stayed the night with Brooke since the two of us always asked to stay over night together.  Brooke and I would typically stay up late in the living room before retiring to bed upstairs for the night.  Nana would always let us stay up later than I could at home so it was quite the treat.  Poor Nana was victim to many dance routines, singing ensembles, and plays since Brooke and I took great pleasure in performing things for anyone who would watch our final routine.  So one day she decided to take us to the mall for a video recording of us singing and performing the song of our choice.  I was extremely nervous to perform in a booth in front of strangers, and on camera.  Brooke and I had to sing first then dance to our recorded voices while pretending to sing.  To make things even more nerve racking, they displayed your performance to people walking by in the mall.  Bless Nana’s heart, she convinced us to do it and told us we were excellent performers.  So we did a routine to Madonna’s song (of course) Material World.  It was so much fun and it turned out to be the perfect gift for our mom’s on Christmas.  I will never forget how much fun I had on that day.

I cannot end with just the one story so I will have to briefly mention a few more memories.  I have to smile when I think back to how important I felt playing ‘Here Comes The Bride” on my tiny little organ when Nana and Grandpa Bill got married.  I had letters taped to my keyboard to help me play the song.  I felt so grown up that day.

Nana carried on her tradition of allowing the grandkids to order two things at a fast food place, just like she did with my mom and aunts.  One time she took a few of us to McDonald’s while we were having a yard sale at my house.  I ordered French fries and a shake for my two things.  I came home and threw up whole French fries while Nana and my mom took turns rubbing my back.  Nana joked and asked if I even chewed the fries before I swallowed.

I should probably write my own book of memories with Nana since I have so many more I would like to share.  Nana has been the closest grandparent that I have had.  She has played a huge role in my life and I look forward to many memories to come."

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My mom's family was more important to her than anything else in this world.  It's clear that my mom's legacy of love will live on and on, and she will always lovingly be remembered, and never, ever forgotten.