I lost another former student to heroin. How egotistical of me to say “I”. His mother lost him, his girlfriend, the people that listened to his music, the friends that held him and smiled with him and cried with him. I havent seen him for many many years, he was 30 years old, and I taught him in middle school. That tells you something doesnt it. I havent seen this boy in 17 years and I can still see his eyes, the way he shook his always too long hair out of his eyes, hear the laughter, almost remember the details of his stories — lots of stories. I hope he is at peace, and somehow I hope he knows how his spirit and memory will continue on. Rest easy Billy.
health
Natural order….
As a teacher, I was blessed with hundreds of “kids” passing in and out of my classroom. For over 25 years I taught. Infants, kindergarten, preschool, elementary school, college, middle school….high school. Sort of on a mission to try it all I spent the years working my way through the many stages of childhood, specializing in special education, english, Family and Consumer Science and finally Career Ed — Early Childhood Education.
I settled in to finish my teaching career in high school, spending the last 7 years there, working with “my girls” , teaching them to be Early Childcare Education teachers. My girls and I built and scaled mountains. We planned, we designed — and supervised the construction of — a preschool. We won national competitions, had babies, dealt with self injury, bullies, immigration and became prom queens. We played soccer, cheered, shot baskets and ran track. We helped each other through a myriad of personal tragedies — theirs and mine, and promised to keep in touch after graduation. We argued, laughed, cried, philosophied and dreamed. I told them, “after you graduate you can friend me on facebook”.
As they walked off the graduation stage each year I felt a relief ( they made it ) and sadness ( would I see them again ). All in all things went as expected. They went to work, went to college, had babies, got married….traveled. Lived. The natural order of things that governs the moon and the stars, that leads us astray and back again, made sense.
And then, tonight I had stood by a little wooden box containing the ashes of one of my girls. One of my beautiful precious girls took her life, hung herself. Left two small children and a family full of grief. Left a mom who couldnt stand up for her grief. A father whose eyes hold nothing but sorrow, cousins and friends and old teachers that still hear her voice coming down the hall — 9 years after she graduated.
The natural order of things is askew. You dont bury students or young moms. You dont say goodbye to a wooden box hardly a foot long. You dont have to face the fact that something was so very wrong that this precious young woman thought the world, and her babies, would be better off without her. I can not, in all my heart, imagine the pain, fear and dispair she must have felt when she hung herself. Hung herself.
Im sorry Christie, that I didnt know. Sorry that I didnt reach out, keep in touch, help with whatever it was that caused this pain…
Christmas presents…
Mom is in a health care facility, aka nursing home. She was in assisted living, aka we pay 5000 a month and they do nothing except make sure she has 3 meals a day and call me when she falls , for 5 years. But, although her heart is strong and she seems pretty healthy, her mind is failing and my brother and I decided she needed more intervention and care. The facility agreed. So, she moved downstairs to the first floor to a smaller room, with more face time with the caregivers.
Today when I went to see her she was wearing a sweater I know shes had for 15 years and the same damn pair of black velour pants she has on every day. I took her a new pair of stretchy elastic waisted jeans and convinced her to try them on. She thought they were too long and made me take a picture of her wearing them, from the ground, so she could be sure they werent touching the floor. After agreeing to wearing them and letting me put the other pants in her hamper, along with other dirty clothes I found, I cleaned out her closet. 11 pairs of velour pants, 8 shirts, 5 sweater cardigans, 3 pullover sweaters. She’s set.
But then I found the Christmas presents. My brother had given her a calendar with a picture of her and my dad on it. Said calendar was hanging on the wall over her bed. My kids and i had given her 2 pairs of pants, a pair of earrings, a night light, a new shirt, a new cardigan, my son’s family picture and a handmade ornament from the youngest granddaughter. They were all shoved in a bag in the back of her closet, , along with a dirty napkin from the snack she had at my son’s Christmas Eve party. Nothing had been looked at, used or loved since we gave them to her. Lord Give Me Strength. I know it’s dementia, I know she can’t help it. But, the flower from the lady at church is on the shelf, the tiny poinsettia from the staff is on her desk, the calendar is on the wall, the cards from strangers are up, but the gifts me and my kids chose, made, shared, were stuffed in a closet with dirty napkins. Every day I see my mom I am reminded that I was never the one, I was never the daughter she wanted, never enough. And yet, I go back.
weight of the world…
This week has been rough … ( understatement, I know ) on many levels. Nationally, the tragedy in Florida sucks the air out of me.
Personally, issues with my mom, my grandchildren…cause me to ache to be able to do more, to fix, to be present everywhere, all the time…
Physically I made it to the gym once. Not good. need to be there at least 3 times a week.
And, it is still February.
Breathe.
Note to self…
Things to NEVER do AGAIN
#1. Drive husband home, 11 days after back surgery, in a snow storm. A freakin blizzard like, ice, snow, hail snow storm.
#2. Run out of tequilla after #1.
I should be…
at the beach. There is work to be done at the beach house — pipes burst, removation is just beginning….
But I am where I am supposed to be. Sitting on the couch watching Rio with my 4 year old grandson, home sick with a nasty cold. Worrying about my youngest who is on her way to get an ultrasound before they schedule surgery. Stressing over my husband’s upcoming surgery on his back — grateful that my doctor appt. yesterday went well. Wondering how I will supervise the reconstruction of our beach house, care for my husband after surgery and how I am going to help my daughter get two boys to school and home again and care for her after her surgery. REALLY glad I retired because 2018 would have gotten me fired !
24 hours…
yesterday at 7:25 am the phone rang. Daughter in law had locked her and granddaughter out of house, and car. Ran up there — slippers and all , let her in and took sweet granddaughter to her aunts house to catch the school bus. Put all 3 kids in my car and discussed mermaid pillows and the woes of Monday.
noon. The phone rings. Son asking if I can pick said granddaughter up at the bus stop at 4. Daughter in law is in a meeting until 4. Of course. did the grocery shopping, finished the bills, watched ten minutes of news….headed to the bus. Spent a few minutes with oldest daughter, discussing dinosaurs with 3 year old half dressed grandson ( this child hates shirts) and watching her dog steal socks from the laundry basket and eat duplos. walked up to the bus stop, gathered the three of them off the bus, chatted about recess antics and bus aides and let them back to the house. Grabbed a pizza left over from birthday party to take to son’s house, buckled granddaughter into car and drove her home. Son and daughter in law and youngest grandson were already there — spent a few minutes discussing “whats that” with the baby.
5:30. Meet youngest daughter and son in law for dinner ( kids eat free on Mondays!) both grandsons wired up — the older ( all of 6 years old ) celebrating his first wrestling tournament ( took second) and the younger (4) excited to be at a restaurant with macaroni and cheese AND ice cream.
8:00 pm. Hit the couch. Blessed with the realization that I saw, hugged and talked to all 7 grandchildren in one day!
>>>>>>
7:20 am. : Standing, half asleep, in front of the coffee pot.. phone wakes me. Son asking if I can pick up granddaughter and take her to aunts to get the bus. Uh, no. I could get her and take her to school, but no way I can get dressed and get to her and get her there by bus time….”Its ok mom, we will figure it out”.
7:24 am. Phone rings. Youngest daughter. her youngest is up coughing all night…can I watch him? Can I take him to doctor? Of course, bring him to me…….
Whew. This is pretty much why I retired — to help with the kids in Winter. But, Lord, what a 24 hours!
The search for normal
We drive our grandkids to the boardwalk. Lights and rides and cheap stuffed animals surround us — then a young man runs out of a storefront — “Stay the F— out of my store, you hear?”
We search for normal.
We sit poolside, toucan floats and cheesy pizza at our side. I check twitter, only to learn of another shooting in our home town.
We reach for normal.
We run to the ocean edge, scooping shells and searching for sand crabs for bait. I hear an elderly couple speaking of the newest health care changes being considered.
We yearn for normal.
I can not help but worry that my grandchildren, aged 8 to 2, will never really understand this normal that I look for. They are growing up without peaches with a quarter inch of fuzz, without open doors and barbecues. They hear of shootings and presidential “tweets”. Will they be able to sit on their front step, a half hour before sunrise and smell that sweet morning nectar, see the golden rays jump up behind the neighbors house? More and more I doubt it. And more and more I search for pieces of light to share with them, pictures and memories of days gone by when the ocean was clean, the rivers and creeks safe to swim in, woods were for exploring and friends spent the night.
I cry for normal.
hell week…
I should not complain.
Seriously should not. But, whatever, here it comes. A couple weeks ago our daughter confirmed that she needed to have minor surgery. Now, “minor” is a relative term. My.Daughter.Surgery. Those words do not blend well, so I had to go into mom mode, reminding myself that it was NOT about me, that I needed to be a resource and a source of strength. That I had to pray and accept the healing even before I saw it manifested. That I had to eat and sleep and not hover. That 3 phone calls a day with “how are you feeling?” is not appropriate or acceptable. I bought her new pajamas and slippers, made a casserole, took the day off work. “Why mom? Why are you taking off work?” Oh, I don’t know…..maybe because MY DAUGHTER IS HAVING SURGERY. “Just in case you need me for something that day”. “No, I’ll be fine”. Turns out her husband couldn’t get off that day and I was needed to do transport, sit in the waiting room drinking nasty coffee == but I was also afforded the wonderful sight of the doctor telling me that everything went well, everything looked great. Score!
Which would have been enough to make it a rough week, right? Wait for it, it gets better…
3 days before surgery we had our first snow storm of the season. Husband and son in law decided it was a good day to chop wood. (You can imagine what is coming, right?). Off they went. I did the grocery store run, stocked up on soup and chili ingredients, came home and cuddled up on the couch with coffee and my knitting. It occurred to me around noon, when there were 3 inches of snow on the ground and wicked cold, that I hadn’t heard anything. So I called. Husband assured me that they were loading the last truck and he would be home for lunch……. 2 hours later I tried his phone and the son in law….no answer… another hour passed, I finished knitting the mittens, and I tried him again. “Yeah, Im getting some xrays done”. WTF? “I fell, I think I broke a rib”. Truth is, he broke two, and had been in the ER for 3 hours, I mean, why call me? Why should I know my husband of 38 years and one day ( don’t even ask about the missed steak dinner reservations for that evening ) was in the ER?
And so began hell week. A week of cooking, shifting blankets, propping pillows, buying coffee, hugging babies, heating casseroles, handing out medicines….worrying. Scolding. Threatening to call an ambulance on Wednesday when he had decided he could sleep in the bed and then we couldn’t get him out of it. 45 hour work week…
So, last night I fell asleep at 7:00 pm. exhausted. And, of course I awoke at 3 am. I’m gonna need a nap.
mommarocksstash 