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A Different Kind of Loss
Friday was a cold rainy day. With much trepidation I packed up the car and drove out of my driveway at 1240 pm. It took an hour to drive to Springhill to Carrie and Tim’s house. I transferred my bag to Carrie’s car and in 10 minutes we were on our way. Following the directions of the GPS I drove north to US98.
The next 4 ½ hours were miserable. It rained the entire trip but the roads were good and there was little traffic. Shortly after 6 pm we pulled into the Airport Motel in Blountstown, FL. The motel was isolated and there were only 2 other cars in the parking lot. The owner was nice, the room was very small but immaculately clean. The rain continued and due to fear of the unknown we got very little sleep. I had pushed a chair over in front of the door.
The temperature outside was 43 degrees. When the alarm went off at 530 am we were both already awake. We were on the road again in 30 minutes. The trusty GPS took us directly down SR71 to Stone Mill Creek Road and Gulf Correctional Institution Annex. Visitors were allowed in from 8 am to 2 pm. There were 2 other women in line outside the prison. We stood in 38 degree weather waiting for the guards to come out and process us through.
At 745 the guards came out and set up a table to sign in. They called 4 visitors at a time. Since it was Carrie and my first visit we had paperwork to fill out. Then the guard gave our driver’s license to the people on the other side of the window to check us out. When that was done we were given a little yellow card with a PIN number on it and told to write our inmate’s name and number on the back and get the card laminated. We had our photos taken, hands scanned three times and then we were patted down. All we were allowed to carry in was a see through envelope with our driver’s license, up to $50 and one car key. I was allowed to take my inhalor in. We were led through four different doors that had to buzzed open and clanged shut behind. Then into a large room with long tables with signs telling where we could sit and where the inmates had to sit. More buzzing and clanging.
We chose a table by the window where I dumped my wrap, hat and see through purse. I walked over to the window to look and saw barb wire surrounding the place and several building that were later identified as the dorms. There was a raised platform at the front of the room where the inmates came in after being strip searched. On the platform were 4 prison guards. Next to them was a table with puzzles and decks of cards.
Two prisoners came into the room. My son was one of them. He signed in, turned and spotted Carrie at the table. As he walked toward her I watched his face crumbled into pain and then tears. He embraced her with one of his wonderful warm hugs. They clung to each other crying. He tried to control his tears but they kept coming as he walked over and gave me a huge hug. It was difficult to let go of him but I knew that it was Carrie he needed and not me. He turned back to her with another hug and then we sat down at the table. Carrie had bought him a cup of coffee and a honey bun from the canteen window in the room. He was delighted with the honey bun and quickly devoured it. He said he hadn’t had one since Monday. Apparently they are a valuable commodity and usually sell out the day they come in.
As time passed I understood why we wanted to get there early. Due to the length of time to process each visitor, some of the people behind us outside didn’t get in until 930-10 am. That takes away from the visiting time. After some catching up we got a puzzle and put it together in less than 2 hours. About every hour or so the guards would unlock the door to the yard outside the room and at least half of the room cleared out to take a smoke break. It was too cold for us so we continued to talk at the table. We kept feeding Tim food from the canteen. Actually it wasn’t bad, all pre-packaged but tasty. There were two microwave ovens in the room, a water fountain and restrooms. The restrooms were locked. Every time we had to go, a guard unlocked the door and one person at a time was allowed to go. We learned to watch and when one person went in, others lined up outside the door and just catch it as each came out.
If the inmates had to go they had to go back to their dorm, which involved a strip search coming and going. Tim held it the whole 6 hours. Around 11 am they called for a head count and the guys had to line up along the wall to be counted.
I sat in the corner and watched my son and the other inmates. Some of them looked like they were teenagers. Others were older. Three of them had prison tattoos all over their exposed skin; arms, neck, some even on their face. I wondered why they would want all that crappy stuff permanently embossed on their bodies. More white guys than black had visitors.
The day went well and no incidents occurred. There were lots of children, more than I expected, and it was touching to see these big tough men carrying around tiny babies and toddlers. I was surprised to see that most of the men did not look as though they belonged in prison.
Too quickly it was 155 pm and the guards told the men to say their goodbyes and line up to sign out. Again I got a Tim hug and Carrie got a prolonged embrace and a kiss. We lined up on one side of the room and the inmates on the other side. They were taken out 3 at a time to be stripped searched again and returned to their respective dorms. As each inmate left the room, his visitors were led out the opposite door. We were held in a small hallway until the previous group left then our photos were matched to another hand scan and we walked out the doors amid buzzers and clangs.
The trip home took 5 hours to Springhill. I transferred my bag back to my car. I was alone again and didn’t know what to feel. Quiet tears rolled down my cheek as I drove. I was relieved to see that Tim was healthy and had not lost his sense of humor. I was devastated to see how the guards dehumanized the men. It felt wonderful to be hugged again by my son. I hated having him separated from his family. I kept hearing the buzzers and clangs. I’ll never forget the look on his face when he saw Carrie. I replayed the visit over and over in my mind.
I arrived home at 930 pm and called Sandy. I needed to have Mystic back with me. She understands my moods and is very protective of me. When Sandy walked in the door with my dog I finally lost control and sobbed in Sandy’s arms for about a half hour.
Will I go visit him again? Absolutely. Will it tear me apart to see him behind bars? No doubt. Will I live long enough to see him back home with his family? 9 years is a long time.
A Light in the Dark
Mocking Bird Family By Mjmyap Flickr
Tuesday night I was sitting at the table with my bedtime glass of milk and a book. It was about 11 PM. I became aware of a mockingbird outside my window in the cedar tree just singing its heart out. The song was incredibly beautiful and I silently blessed this bird for giving me so much pleasure.
About 4 AM I got up to go to the bathroom and the little bird was still singing. When I awakened in the morning the bird was silent. I think God knows that nights are sometimes very tough for me and so he sends me a mockingbird to help me through the darkness.
Last night at 1 AM I again was sitting at the table with my glass of milk and book and outside the window was the glorious song of the mockingbird. I don’t really know why it sings all night long but I do know that the song was given to me by a loving God who gives me hope for the future and calm for the present. I am truly blessed.
Tribute To My Mom
Mom worked for the stock market all of her adult life and knew the business backwards and forwards. She loved her work and didn’t want to retire when she turned 65. However, she was forced to retire at 70. She hated retirement. Mom needed to be busy. She started volunteering at church and at Boyd Hill Nature Park. She took care of her grandchildren, she took care of her daughters.
She loved animals and always had one dog and 1-2 cats around. After Mom retired she went for a long walk every morning and evening. One morning she was out in Lakewood Estates walking her beloved bassett hound, Beauregard and found a buff colored chicken in some bushes. She rushed home, got out the cat carrier and drove her car back to where she had found the chicken. She managed to catch the it, put it in the carrier and took it home. Clucky lived in Mom’s back yard for many years and rewarded Mom with an egg almost every day.
As Mom aged she became more frail but remained undaunted by the tasks at hand. She had her first fracture when she was up on a kitchen chair dusting the top of her refrigerator. The chair tipped over and she fell breaking her hip. “Nobody dusts the top of their refrigerator”, exclaimed the paramedic who came to take her to the hospital. “I do”, she announced firmly.
The anesthesia from that surgery took its toll on her memory. Her next fall came when she and Beauregard were running, yes I said running, home from my house. She tripped over something on the sidewalk and broke her pelvis. Another trip to the hospital but fortunately no surgery this time because the break was non displaced. Unfortunately, she took another fall before the break healed and it had displaced. Due to her age, surgery was declined. This fall took more of her and she was in pain a lot of the time.
When she got home from the hospital, Mom was not eating well, could not take care of her house and was quite forgetful. The family decided it was time for assisted living. September 2000 she and Beauregard moved to a villa at Westminster Shores, mostly against her will. She still felt she could take care of herself, drive her car and stay independent. I will never forget the look on her face when we left her there that first night. I felt I had betrayed her.
Almost every Tuesday and Thursday Mom and I went to the thrift stores. She could buy a bushel basket full of nice stuff and spend less than $20. Then we would head to McDonalds for a hamburger and strawberry milk shake. Saturdays were yard sale days in the neighborhood. After tromping through neighbors yards looking for treasures, I sometimes had lunch with her at Westminster.
After she had adjusted to the move, she started creating a garden of flowers outside her villa. Every few weeks I took her to the Willow Tree Nursery to pick up more flowers. The garden grew from a little plot of posies to a large area of riotous color all along the side of her villa. How she loved that garden. Other residents walked down the alley just so they could admire her work.
In March 2006, due to finances, Mom went to live with Linda who had moved to Georgia shortly after Mom went to Westminster. At first we talked on the phone frequently. After her short term memory was gone, and conversation on Mom’s part became sparse, Melissa would call me every Thursday morning on her speaker phone so I could talk to Mom. I read her children’s books by Stephen Cosgrove. They were delightful and each story had a moral and a happy ending. Mom seemed to loved them.
Melissa had called the Methodist minister and asked him to come for a visit. Tuesday November 18, he came by and talked with Mom, read her Bible verses and prayed with her. From that visit on she stopped crying all the time and became very peaceful.
Thursday, the day before she died, Missy called to tell me that Granny was unresponsive and could not talk on the phone. She said the doctor told them it would be only a matter of days. That night I asked God to give her peace but to please let her come tell me goodbye when she left this world.
Early Friday morning, I was sound asleep when suddenly, from outside my bedroom door, my vacuum cleaner turned on and then off. I sat up in bed looking out to see who had turned it on. There was no one. I looked at the clock and it was 650 AM. Too early to get up so I went back to sleep.
At 730 Melissa called to tell me that Granny had passed on peacefully. I talked to Linda and asked her what time Mom had died. Ten to 7 Linda told me. I held my breathe for a moment and realized that Mom had come to say goodbye.
I will always miss her terribly but I know she is in a better place, whole and happy and walking Beauregard through the gardens of Heaven. I love you Mom. See you at the house.
Born 5-16-14 – Died 11-21-08 – Memorial 12-13-08
Mom
I am overwhelmed today by a deep sorrow that I have been in denial of for several months now. My mother’s life is coming to an end. I have such mixed emotions I don’t know what to do with them. I have been crying all day.
I tried to talk to Mom this morning. The past three weeks she has been unresponsive to my questions and conversation. When I ask her a question I hear Missy in the background saying, “You have to say the word Granny. Aunt Sandra can’t see you nod.” Mom will whisper, “Yes.”
Yesterday I talked to Missy and she told me that Mom has to have mittens put on her hands now because she is gouging her thighs until they bleed. She is forming the contractures consistent with end stage Alzheimer’s and Missy is doing some physical therapy exercises on her.
When I remember the vital, independent woman my mother was, it breaks my heart to think of her like this. It hurts so much sometimes I just can’t breathe. Do I want her to continue to just exist? Or would I rather see her go home to her God and be well and whole again? The answer is not simple. I do not want her to suffer any longer and if she could have her say, she would tell us she would rather die.
On the other hand, when she dies I will have lost the only person on this earth who has loved me unconditionally all my life. No matter what, my mother has always been there for me. She has been my rock and I could turn to her at any time for anything. But this is just me feeling sorry for myself for my loss rather than thinking of her gain.
When I pray for her I just ask God to surround her with peace because I know in her jumbled mind she is not at peace. Missy says Mom cries all the time she is awake, and she was crying when I talked to her this morning. I read her two stories and that seemed to calm her but what, I wonder, happens after I hang up? Does anyone up there ever read her stories? Do they tell her that they love her?
What will I do without my mother in my world?
More Memories on Life
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As I become older and more reflective I also become more melancholy. Don’t get me wrong, I am not unhappy or depressed. Maybe wistful is a better word. Time has flown by so quickly. It seems like only yesterday I was the young mother of two small boys. What wonderful times we had growing up together. All my life I had wanted boys and God blessed me with two of the best.
I can’t say their childhood was great but I can say that they were the light of my life. After their father left when they were ages 6 and 8 it was just the three of us. I wanted to make their childhood memories happy ones so I got them involved in sports, music and camping. Robin was the sports guy and Tim the music man. I went to every sporting event and music concert they were involved in.
When Robin was 10 his Uncle Dick, who had become his mentor when his dad left, died of cancer at age 33. Robin was devastated and missed his uncle terribly. To this day he will tell you that Uncle Dick’s death affected him more than did his father leaving home.
After Dick’s death my sister, Linda and I started a family tradition of weekend camping. Our favorite place was the Peace River KOA. They had tubing, horse back riding, hay rides, Saturday night movies for the kids. There were several hundred acres of woodlands for hiking. It was also the historic site of the Chautauqua amphitheater ruins that had been quite the thing back in the 1920’s. There are some great pictures in the recreation hall of the theater when it was still operating. The old cars, the flapper style dresses, lanterns lighting the way to the theater. What a neat history.
We always had a great time; looking for shark’s teeth in the river, tubing, horseback riding, the Saturday evening hay ride, hiking, cooking over the camp fire. The kids were never bored and sometimes Linda and I actually got time to ourselves to sit back and read. We didn’t have much money but at the time a weekend camping cost us about $25 each including food. The kids still remember those camping weekends and when we are together we have the “remember this or that” discussions.
When I wished for boys as a young mother I never realized that usually when boys leave home you don’t hear much from them. Daughters are much better at remembering Mom. Thank goodness I have a daughter in law that calls me on a regular basis.
My sons will never know how my heart soars when the phone rings, I pick it up and hear their voice. Either one, it doesn’t matter. I love talking to them and just being around them, especially when they are together. I feel like I never want to leave because I don’t know when the next gathering might be.
When one or the other of them comes over to my house it seems like the house is alive again and when they leave they take the sunshine with them. The house becomes so quiet that I wonder if they had really been here or if I had just dreamed it.
|caring for your spirit|
A Light in the Dark
Mocking Bird Family By Mjmyap Flickr
Tuesday night I was sitting at the table with my bedtime glass of milk and a book. It was about 11 PM. I became aware of a mockingbird outside my window in the cedar tree just singing its heart out. The song was incredibly beautiful and I silently blessed this bird for giving me so much pleasure.
About 4 AM I got up to go to the bathroom and the little bird was still singing. When I awakened in the morning the bird was silent. I think God knows that nights are sometimes very tough for me and so he sends me a mockingbird to help me through the darkness.
Last night at 1 AM I again was sitting at the table with my glass of milk and book and outside the window was the glorious song of the mockingbird. I don’t really know why it sings all night long but I do know that the song was given to me by a loving God who gives me hope for the future and calm for the present. I am truly blessed.
Tribute To My Mom
Mom worked for the stock market all of her adult life and knew the business backwards and forwards. She loved her work and didn’t want to retire when she turned 65. However, she was forced to retire at 70. She hated retirement. Mom needed to be busy. She started volunteering at church and at Boyd Hill Nature Park. She took care of her grandchildren, she took care of her daughters.
She loved animals and always had one dog and 1-2 cats around. After Mom retired she went for a long walk every morning and evening. One morning she was out in Lakewood Estates walking her beloved bassett hound, Beauregard and found a buff colored chicken in some bushes. She rushed home, got out the cat carrier and drove her car back to where she had found the chicken. She managed to catch the it, put it in the carrier and took it home. Clucky lived in Mom’s back yard for many years and rewarded Mom with an egg almost every day.
As Mom aged she became more frail but remained undaunted by the tasks at hand. She had her first fracture when she was up on a kitchen chair dusting the top of her refrigerator. The chair tipped over and she fell breaking her hip. “Nobody dusts the top of their refrigerator”, exclaimed the paramedic who came to take her to the hospital. “I do”, she announced firmly.
The anesthesia from that surgery took its toll on her memory. Her next fall came when she and Beauregard were running, yes I said running, home from my house. She tripped over something on the sidewalk and broke her pelvis. Another trip to the hospital but fortunately no surgery this time because the break was non displaced. Unfortunately, she took another fall before the break healed and it had displaced. Due to her age, surgery was declined. This fall took more of her and she was in pain a lot of the time.
When she got home from the hospital, Mom was not eating well, could not take care of her house and was quite forgetful. The family decided it was time for assisted living. September 2000 she and Beauregard moved to a villa at Westminster Shores, mostly against her will. She still felt she could take care of herself, drive her car and stay independent. I will never forget the look on her face when we left her there that first night. I felt I had betrayed her.
Almost every Tuesday and Thursday Mom and I went to the thrift stores. She could buy a bushel basket full of nice stuff and spend less than $20. Then we would head to McDonalds for a hamburger and strawberry milk shake. Saturdays were yard sale days in the neighborhood. After tromping through neighbors yards looking for treasures, I sometimes had lunch with her at Westminster.
After she had adjusted to the move, she started creating a garden of flowers outside her villa. Every few weeks I took her to the Willow Tree Nursery to pick up more flowers. The garden grew from a little plot of posies to a large area of riotous color all along the side of her villa. How she loved that garden. Other residents walked down the alley just so they could admire her work.
In March 2006, due to finances, Mom went to live with Linda who had moved to Georgia shortly after Mom went to Westminster. At first we talked on the phone frequently. After her short term memory was gone, and conversation on Mom’s part became sparse, Melissa would call me every Thursday morning on her speaker phone so I could talk to Mom. I read her children’s books by Stephen Cosgrove. They were delightful and each story had a moral and a happy ending. Mom seemed to loved them.
Melissa had called the Methodist minister and asked him to come for a visit. Tuesday November 18, he came by and talked with Mom, read her Bible verses and prayed with her. From that visit on she stopped crying all the time and became very peaceful.
Thursday, the day before she died, Missy called to tell me that Granny was unresponsive and could not talk on the phone. She said the doctor told them it would be only a matter of days. That night I asked God to give her peace but to please let her come tell me goodbye when she left this world.
Early Friday morning, I was sound asleep when suddenly, from outside my bedroom door, my vacuum cleaner turned on and then off. I sat up in bed looking out to see who had turned it on. There was no one. I looked at the clock and it was 650 AM. Too early to get up so I went back to sleep.
At 730 Melissa called to tell me that Granny had passed on peacefully. I talked to Linda and asked her what time Mom had died. Ten to 7 Linda told me. I held my breathe for a moment and realized that Mom had come to say goodbye.
I will always miss her terribly but I know she is in a better place, whole and happy and walking Beauregard through the gardens of Heaven. I love you Mom. See you at the house.
Born 5-16-14 – Died 11-21-08 – Memorial 12-13-08
Mom
I am overwhelmed today by a deep sorrow that I have been in denial of for several months now. My mother’s life is coming to an end. I have such mixed emotions I don’t know what to do with them. I have been crying all day.
I tried to talk to Mom this morning. The past three weeks she has been unresponsive to my questions and conversation. When I ask her a question I hear Missy in the background saying, “You have to say the word Granny. Aunt Sandra can’t see you nod.” Mom will whisper, “Yes.”
Yesterday I talked to Missy and she told me that Mom has to have mittens put on her hands now because she is gouging her thighs until they bleed. She is forming the contractures consistent with end stage Alzheimer’s and Missy is doing some physical therapy exercises on her.
When I remember the vital, independent woman my mother was, it breaks my heart to think of her like this. It hurts so much sometimes I just can’t breathe. Do I want her to continue to just exist? Or would I rather see her go home to her God and be well and whole again? The answer is not simple. I do not want her to suffer any longer and if she could have her say, she would tell us she would rather die.
On the other hand, when she dies I will have lost the only person on this earth who has loved me unconditionally all my life. No matter what, my mother has always been there for me. She has been my rock and I could turn to her at any time for anything. But this is just me feeling sorry for myself for my loss rather than thinking of her gain.
When I pray for her I just ask God to surround her with peace because I know in her jumbled mind she is not at peace. Missy says Mom cries all the time she is awake, and she was crying when I talked to her this morning. I read her two stories and that seemed to calm her but what, I wonder, happens after I hang up? Does anyone up there ever read her stories? Do they tell her that they love her?
What will I do without my mother in my world?
Saving God’s Magnificent Creatures
It was a sunny, balmy, breezy day, just perfect for a walk with an owl. I was a volunteer for Boyd Hill Nature Preserve with the bird of prey program. I headed down to get Phantom, the barred owl I have been working with for the past 6-8 months. I was teaching her to perch on the glove so we can start using her in our educational programs. She had only been getting on the glove for about 6 weeks. This type of training takes a long time and much patience.
When I first started with her I just stood on the ladder holding the glove in front of her for several minutes each day so she could get acquainted with it and not be frightened when the time finally came for her to actually get on it. So far patience had been paying off and she was coming along very well. The first day I actually hooked up her jesses and pulled her onto the glove she was not happy and bated off the glove. Being a glove novice she did not know what to do to get herself back up onto the glove. I had to get my free hand underneath her and gently push her body back up onto the glove and hope that she would grasp it with her feet. She did not. Once again I pushed her back up to the glove telling her that it is not dignified to be hanging upside down from a long strap attached to her legs. She didn’t care about dignity. The lesson for that day was over because once the bird is stressed I could not accomplish anything by forcing her to continue.
Many sessions later perseverance finally paid off and she eventually got the idea that it was really OK to be standing on a glove. We did not go anywhere, just stood in the cage while she felt the glove, jesses and strap. I whispered to her the whole time to calm her. By this time she had also learned how to get herself back up on the glove when she bated. What a feeling of joy I had the first time I actually took her out of her aviary. We only walked down the trail for about 50 feet but it was a giant step for her to be out of her security zone. Finally, on this day we were going to take our first long walk. Things were great. She watched me as I talked to her; she looked down at my feet hearing my footsteps whishing through the grass. I would elevate her on the glove up into the air above my head so she could feel the sun on her body and have the breeze ruffle her beautiful feathers. I sang to her softly. She blinked slowly at me with her wonderful dark eyes. She was actually enjoying this walk. After about 30-45 minutes I headed back to the aviary by way of the back parking lot. As we were heading down the trail a car pulled into the lot. Phantom tensed and I tried to distract her from bating but it was too late. She just bombed off the glove and was hanging upside down and frantically flapping her wings. Because she only has one wing and the shoulder of the other wing, all this accomplished was for her to spin in circles. She was very effectively twisting the jesses and strap around her feet so when I tried to get her back on the glove it was like her feet were tied together and she could not get a grip. I was trying to untangle her but she was flapping so madly it was impossible to untangle her.
In the meantime the person driving the car came over to see if she could help. She is a new volunteer but had never handled a bird before so there was nothing she really could do at that point. After a few frantic moments I just put my arm around the owl and pulled her upright against my chest. That was when we noticed she was dripping blood. Quick inspection revealed that she had broken a blood feather on her amputated wing. If the bleeding is not stopped quickly, the bird can exsanguinate in a short period of time. The only way to accomplish this is to pull out the blood feather with needle nose pliers. This is not something I normally carry around with me and besides it is a two-person procedure, one to hold the bird still and the other to pull the feather out. All I could think of was to pinch off the feather to keep the blood from flowing so freely. This I did while I carried her back to the aviary. Now the bird is clinging to my chest with her talons, which are the most dangerous part of her body, but she never even broke the skin. She just blinked up at me as though waiting for me to make everything OK.
When I got her to the outside workbench I was able to untangle the jesses and strap. I tried to get her to sit on a perch but she instead jumped back to the glove. All the while I am pinching off that blood feather and trying to put some styptic on it as a temporary measure to stop the bleeding. The styptic did not work; the blood was just flowing out too fast. Pinching was the only thing that stopped it. By this time we both were covered with blood spatter.The novice bird volunteer tried to find the ranger in charge of the birds but she had gone home to go to her granddaughter’s graduation. The only other person who was qualified to pull the feather was our head volunteer Gabe but he was not due to come in until 5 PM. It was only 4 but Bobbie and I decided this was worth a call to him anyway. She called, I pinched.
Gabe got there in about 15 minutes. He got a towel and threw it over the bird’s head so she would not struggle when we worked on her. I held her feet just in case she decided to test out just how deep she could jab those talons into a hand while Gabe pulled out the offending blood feather. He then packed the wound with styptic after flooding it with peroxide. We watched her for about 15 minutes to make sure the styptic had done its job. Then Gabe took the bird and gently set her in the box in her aviary. We watched her for another hour and declared that the emergency was over.
The next day I went down to the park to see how she was and she was fine. She blinked, I sang “You Are My Sunshine” to her and she let me scratch her head. She got onto the glove for a short walk. What a trooper she is. I have a feeling that she will be one of those special birds like GHO (the great horned owl) who are just a dream to handle. What a blessing to be able to actually touch and love these magnificent birds.
|caring for yourself|
Mom worked for the stock market all of her adult life and knew the business backwards and forwards. She loved her work and didn’t want to retire when she turned 65. However, she was forced to retire at 70. She hated retirement. Mom needed to be busy. She started volunteering at church and at Boyd Hill Nature Park. She took care of her grandchildren, she took care of her daughters.
She loved animals and always had one dog and 1-2 cats around. After Mom retired she went for a long walk every morning and evening. One morning she was out in Lakewood Estates walking her beloved bassett hound, Beauregard and found a buff colored chicken in some bushes. She rushed home, got out the cat carrier and drove her car back to where she had found the chicken. She managed to catch the it, put it in the carrier and took it home. Clucky lived in Mom’s back yard for many years and rewarded Mom with an egg almost every day.
As Mom aged she became more frail but remained undaunted by the tasks at hand. She had her first fracture when she was up on a kitchen chair dusting the top of her refrigerator. The chair tipped over and she fell breaking her hip. “Nobody dusts the top of their refrigerator”, exclaimed the paramedic who came to take her to the hospital. “I do”, she announced firmly.
The anesthesia from that surgery took its toll on her memory. Her next fall came when she and Beauregard were running, yes I said running, home from my house. She tripped over something on the sidewalk and broke her pelvis. Another trip to the hospital but fortunately no surgery this time because the break was non displaced. Unfortunately, she took another fall before the break healed and it had displaced. Due to her age, surgery was declined. This fall took more of her and she was in pain a lot of the time.
When she got home from the hospital, Mom was not eating well, could not take care of her house and was quite forgetful. The family decided it was time for assisted living. September 2000 she and Beauregard moved to a villa at Westminster Shores, mostly against her will. She still felt she could take care of herself, drive her car and stay independent. I will never forget the look on her face when we left her there that first night. I felt I had betrayed her.
Almost every Tuesday and Thursday Mom and I went to the thrift stores. She could buy a bushel basket full of nice stuff and spend less than $20. Then we would head to McDonalds for a hamburger and strawberry milk shake. Saturdays were yard sale days in the neighborhood. After tromping through neighbors yards looking for treasures, I sometimes had lunch with her at Westminster.
After she had adjusted to the move, she started creating a garden of flowers outside her villa. Every few weeks I took her to the Willow Tree Nursery to pick up more flowers. The garden grew from a little plot of posies to a large area of riotous color all along the side of her villa. How she loved that garden. Other residents walked down the alley just so they could admire her work.
In March 2006, due to finances, Mom went to live with Linda who had moved to Georgia shortly after Mom went to Westminster. At first we talked on the phone frequently. After her short term memory was gone, and conversation on Mom’s part became sparse, Melissa would call me every Thursday morning on her speaker phone so I could talk to Mom. I read her children’s books by Stephen Cosgrove. They were delightful and each story had a moral and a happy ending. Mom seemed to loved them.
Melissa had called the Methodist minister and asked him to come for a visit. Tuesday November 18, he came by and talked with Mom, read her Bible verses and prayed with her. From that visit on she stopped crying all the time and became very peaceful.
Thursday, the day before she died, Missy called to tell me that Granny was unresponsive and could not talk on the phone. She said the doctor told them it would be only a matter of days. That night I asked God to give her peace but to please let her come tell me goodbye when she left this world.
Early Friday morning, I was sound asleep when suddenly, from outside my bedroom door, my vacuum cleaner turned on and then off. I sat up in bed looking out to see who had turned it on. There was no one. I looked at the clock and it was 650 AM. Too early to get up so I went back to sleep.
At 730 Melissa called to tell me that Granny had passed on peacefully. I talked to Linda and asked her what time Mom had died. Ten to 7 Linda told me. I held my breathe for a moment and realized that Mom had come to say goodbye.
I will always miss her terribly but I know she is in a better place, whole and happy and walking Beauregard through the gardens of Heaven. I love you Mom. See you at the house.
Born 5-16-14 – Died 11-21-08 – Memorial 12-13-08
I am overwhelmed today by a deep sorrow that I have been in denial of for several months now. My mother’s life is coming to an end. I have such mixed emotions I don’t know what to do with them. I have been crying all day.
I tried to talk to Mom this morning. The past three weeks she has been unresponsive to my questions and conversation. When I ask her a question I hear Missy in the background saying, “You have to say the word Granny. Aunt Sandra can’t see you nod.” Mom will whisper, “Yes.”
Yesterday I talked to Missy and she told me that Mom has to have mittens put on her hands now because she is gouging her thighs until they bleed. She is forming the contractures consistent with end stage Alzheimer’s and Missy is doing some physical therapy exercises on her.
When I remember the vital, independent woman my mother was, it breaks my heart to think of her like this. It hurts so much sometimes I just can’t breathe. Do I want her to continue to just exist? Or would I rather see her go home to her God and be well and whole again? The answer is not simple. I do not want her to suffer any longer and if she could have her say, she would tell us she would rather die.
On the other hand, when she dies I will have lost the only person on this earth who has loved me unconditionally all my life. No matter what, my mother has always been there for me. She has been my rock and I could turn to her at any time for anything. But this is just me feeling sorry for myself for my loss rather than thinking of her gain.
When I pray for her I just ask God to surround her with peace because I know in her jumbled mind she is not at peace. Missy says Mom cries all the time she is awake, and she was crying when I talked to her this morning. I read her two stories and that seemed to calm her but what, I wonder, happens after I hang up? Does anyone up there ever read her stories? Do they tell her that they love her?
What will I do without my mother in my world?
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As I become older and more reflective I also become more melancholy. Don’t get me wrong, I am not unhappy or depressed. Maybe wistful is a better word. Time has flown by so quickly. It seems like only yesterday I was the young mother of two small boys. What wonderful times we had growing up together. All my life I had wanted boys and God blessed me with two of the best.
I can’t say their childhood was great but I can say that they were the light of my life. After their father left when they were ages 6 and 8 it was just the three of us. I wanted to make their childhood memories happy ones so I got them involved in sports, music and camping. Robin was the sports guy and Tim the music man. I went to every sporting event and music concert they were involved in.
When Robin was 10 his Uncle Dick, who had become his mentor when his dad left, died of cancer at age 33. Robin was devastated and missed his uncle terribly. To this day he will tell you that Uncle Dick’s death affected him more than did his father leaving home.
After Dick’s death my sister, Linda and I started a family tradition of weekend camping. Our favorite place was the Peace River KOA. They had tubing, horse back riding, hay rides, Saturday night movies for the kids. There were several hundred acres of woodlands for hiking. It was also the historic site of the Chautauqua amphitheater ruins that had been quite the thing back in the 1920’s. There are some great pictures in the recreation hall of the theater when it was still operating. The old cars, the flapper style dresses, lanterns lighting the way to the theater. What a neat history.
We always had a great time; looking for shark’s teeth in the river, tubing, horseback riding, the Saturday evening hay ride, hiking, cooking over the camp fire. The kids were never bored and sometimes Linda and I actually got time to ourselves to sit back and read. We didn’t have much money but at the time a weekend camping cost us about $25 each including food. The kids still remember those camping weekends and when we are together we have the “remember this or that” discussions.
When I wished for boys as a young mother I never realized that usually when boys leave home you don’t hear much from them. Daughters are much better at remembering Mom. Thank goodness I have a daughter in law that calls me on a regular basis.
My sons will never know how my heart soars when the phone rings, I pick it up and hear their voice. Either one, it doesn’t matter. I love talking to them and just being around them, especially when they are together. I feel like I never want to leave because I don’t know when the next gathering might be.
When one or the other of them comes over to my house it seems like the house is alive again and when they leave they take the sunshine with them. The house becomes so quiet that I wonder if they had really been here or if I had just dreamed it.
The house is warm and comfy. The living room has a fire in the fireplace. I can hear it crackle. Grandma Mom is in the kitchen baking something that smells wonderful. I smell cinnamon so it is probably apple pie or cobbler. She loves to bake and there are several fruit trees in the yard including apple, cherry and pear along with current and raspberry bushes. Grandpa Pop is in the kitchen with her, sitting at the small table and they softly talk to each other. If it wasn’t for the refuge I find being in this house I know my childhood would pass with little joy.
The house is a two story Dutch colonial that was built by Uncle Art. I didn’t know him but Mommy and Mom say a lot of good things about him. I love this big old house. It has three bedrooms and a sewing room on the second floor. There is also a large bathroom. A door in the sewing room goes out onto a small balcony. The stairs to the attic go up from Pop’s bedroom. The attic holds all kinds of treasure that I love to go through.
My favorite is an old chest full of movie stars pictures that my Aunt Joyce and Aunt Shirley have collected over many years. There are dozens of them. Shirley is married now but Joyce still lives here. She is only six years older than me. I am ten. Sometimes Joyce lets me try on her formals. She has such pretty ones with lace and taffeta, satin and light netting. The skirts flared out and I twirl around and Joyce laughs at my antics.
On the first floor is the kitchen, a large formal dining room, the living room with a fireplace and my favorite, the sunroom. The sunroom is small but it has windows all around the outside walls. There is a piano, a rocking chair and all of Mom’s plants on plant stands around the windows. Most of them are succulents.
The house also has a basement with laundry area, a commode stall, home canned vegetable room that we call the root cellar and a huge furnace. There is a ping-pong table in the front part of the basement. There is also a storm door leading outside. The main stairs go up into the kitchen. My cousin David likes the basement but I prefer the attic. Did I mention that I love this house?
My favorite thing in the world is to sit in the rocking chair in the sunroom during winter and watch the snowfall under the streetlight at night. There are no words to describe the peace and beauty I feel at these moments. It is like being transported to a different time and place. I just sit there alone in the dark; rocking and watching the flakes drift slowly down. Every once in a while a small gust of wind goes through and the snowflakes will swirl before kissing the ground.
Photo Credit: Flickr “G” Jewels g is for Grandma
There are times when the snow comes down so thick I can’t see the street light, only its glow through the heavy curtain of snow. At times a car or the city bus goes by and the snow eddies wildly from the disruption of its descent and then once again floats peacefully to the ground. I love this house and all the joy that fills it. This is where my most precious childhood memories lay.
|healing|
|relationship|
|writing on life|
Mom
I am overwhelmed today by a deep sorrow that I have been in denial of for several months now. My mother’s life is coming to an end. I have such mixed emotions I don’t know what to do with them. I have been crying all day.
I tried to talk to Mom this morning. The past three weeks she has been unresponsive to my questions and conversation. When I ask her a question I hear Missy in the background saying, “You have to say the word Granny. Aunt Sandra can’t see you nod.” Mom will whisper, “Yes.”
Yesterday I talked to Missy and she told me that Mom has to have mittens put on her hands now because she is gouging her thighs until they bleed. She is forming the contractures consistent with end stage Alzheimer’s and Missy is doing some physical therapy exercises on her.
When I remember the vital, independent woman my mother was, it breaks my heart to think of her like this. It hurts so much sometimes I just can’t breathe. Do I want her to continue to just exist? Or would I rather see her go home to her God and be well and whole again? The answer is not simple. I do not want her to suffer any longer and if she could have her say, she would tell us she would rather die.
On the other hand, when she dies I will have lost the only person on this earth who has loved me unconditionally all my life. No matter what, my mother has always been there for me. She has been my rock and I could turn to her at any time for anything. But this is just me feeling sorry for myself for my loss rather than thinking of her gain.
When I pray for her I just ask God to surround her with peace because I know in her jumbled mind she is not at peace. Missy says Mom cries all the time she is awake, and she was crying when I talked to her this morning. I read her two stories and that seemed to calm her but what, I wonder, happens after I hang up? Does anyone up there ever read her stories? Do they tell her that they love her?
What will I do without my mother in my world?
More Memories on Life
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As I become older and more reflective I also become more melancholy. Don’t get me wrong, I am not unhappy or depressed. Maybe wistful is a better word. Time has flown by so quickly. It seems like only yesterday I was the young mother of two small boys. What wonderful times we had growing up together. All my life I had wanted boys and God blessed me with two of the best.
I can’t say their childhood was great but I can say that they were the light of my life. After their father left when they were ages 6 and 8 it was just the three of us. I wanted to make their childhood memories happy ones so I got them involved in sports, music and camping. Robin was the sports guy and Tim the music man. I went to every sporting event and music concert they were involved in.
When Robin was 10 his Uncle Dick, who had become his mentor when his dad left, died of cancer at age 33. Robin was devastated and missed his uncle terribly. To this day he will tell you that Uncle Dick’s death affected him more than did his father leaving home.
After Dick’s death my sister, Linda and I started a family tradition of weekend camping. Our favorite place was the Peace River KOA. They had tubing, horse back riding, hay rides, Saturday night movies for the kids. There were several hundred acres of woodlands for hiking. It was also the historic site of the Chautauqua amphitheater ruins that had been quite the thing back in the 1920’s. There are some great pictures in the recreation hall of the theater when it was still operating. The old cars, the flapper style dresses, lanterns lighting the way to the theater. What a neat history.
We always had a great time; looking for shark’s teeth in the river, tubing, horseback riding, the Saturday evening hay ride, hiking, cooking over the camp fire. The kids were never bored and sometimes Linda and I actually got time to ourselves to sit back and read. We didn’t have much money but at the time a weekend camping cost us about $25 each including food. The kids still remember those camping weekends and when we are together we have the “remember this or that” discussions.
When I wished for boys as a young mother I never realized that usually when boys leave home you don’t hear much from them. Daughters are much better at remembering Mom. Thank goodness I have a daughter in law that calls me on a regular basis.
My sons will never know how my heart soars when the phone rings, I pick it up and hear their voice. Either one, it doesn’t matter. I love talking to them and just being around them, especially when they are together. I feel like I never want to leave because I don’t know when the next gathering might be.
When one or the other of them comes over to my house it seems like the house is alive again and when they leave they take the sunshine with them. The house becomes so quiet that I wonder if they had really been here or if I had just dreamed it.
Saving God’s Magnificent Creatures
It was a sunny, balmy, breezy day, just perfect for a walk with an owl. I was a volunteer for Boyd Hill Nature Preserve with the bird of prey program. I headed down to get Phantom, the barred owl I have been working with for the past 6-8 months. I was teaching her to perch on the glove so we can start using her in our educational programs. She had only been getting on the glove for about 6 weeks. This type of training takes a long time and much patience.
When I first started with her I just stood on the ladder holding the glove in front of her for several minutes each day so she could get acquainted with it and not be frightened when the time finally came for her to actually get on it. So far patience had been paying off and she was coming along very well. The first day I actually hooked up her jesses and pulled her onto the glove she was not happy and bated off the glove. Being a glove novice she did not know what to do to get herself back up onto the glove. I had to get my free hand underneath her and gently push her body back up onto the glove and hope that she would grasp it with her feet. She did not. Once again I pushed her back up to the glove telling her that it is not dignified to be hanging upside down from a long strap attached to her legs. She didn’t care about dignity. The lesson for that day was over because once the bird is stressed I could not accomplish anything by forcing her to continue.
Many sessions later perseverance finally paid off and she eventually got the idea that it was really OK to be standing on a glove. We did not go anywhere, just stood in the cage while she felt the glove, jesses and strap. I whispered to her the whole time to calm her. By this time she had also learned how to get herself back up on the glove when she bated. What a feeling of joy I had the first time I actually took her out of her aviary. We only walked down the trail for about 50 feet but it was a giant step for her to be out of her security zone. Finally, on this day we were going to take our first long walk. Things were great. She watched me as I talked to her; she looked down at my feet hearing my footsteps whishing through the grass. I would elevate her on the glove up into the air above my head so she could feel the sun on her body and have the breeze ruffle her beautiful feathers. I sang to her softly. She blinked slowly at me with her wonderful dark eyes. She was actually enjoying this walk. After about 30-45 minutes I headed back to the aviary by way of the back parking lot. As we were heading down the trail a car pulled into the lot. Phantom tensed and I tried to distract her from bating but it was too late. She just bombed off the glove and was hanging upside down and frantically flapping her wings. Because she only has one wing and the shoulder of the other wing, all this accomplished was for her to spin in circles. She was very effectively twisting the jesses and strap around her feet so when I tried to get her back on the glove it was like her feet were tied together and she could not get a grip. I was trying to untangle her but she was flapping so madly it was impossible to untangle her.
In the meantime the person driving the car came over to see if she could help. She is a new volunteer but had never handled a bird before so there was nothing she really could do at that point. After a few frantic moments I just put my arm around the owl and pulled her upright against my chest. That was when we noticed she was dripping blood. Quick inspection revealed that she had broken a blood feather on her amputated wing. If the bleeding is not stopped quickly, the bird can exsanguinate in a short period of time. The only way to accomplish this is to pull out the blood feather with needle nose pliers. This is not something I normally carry around with me and besides it is a two-person procedure, one to hold the bird still and the other to pull the feather out. All I could think of was to pinch off the feather to keep the blood from flowing so freely. This I did while I carried her back to the aviary. Now the bird is clinging to my chest with her talons, which are the most dangerous part of her body, but she never even broke the skin. She just blinked up at me as though waiting for me to make everything OK.
When I got her to the outside workbench I was able to untangle the jesses and strap. I tried to get her to sit on a perch but she instead jumped back to the glove. All the while I am pinching off that blood feather and trying to put some styptic on it as a temporary measure to stop the bleeding. The styptic did not work; the blood was just flowing out too fast. Pinching was the only thing that stopped it. By this time we both were covered with blood spatter.The novice bird volunteer tried to find the ranger in charge of the birds but she had gone home to go to her granddaughter’s graduation. The only other person who was qualified to pull the feather was our head volunteer Gabe but he was not due to come in until 5 PM. It was only 4 but Bobbie and I decided this was worth a call to him anyway. She called, I pinched.
Gabe got there in about 15 minutes. He got a towel and threw it over the bird’s head so she would not struggle when we worked on her. I held her feet just in case she decided to test out just how deep she could jab those talons into a hand while Gabe pulled out the offending blood feather. He then packed the wound with styptic after flooding it with peroxide. We watched her for about 15 minutes to make sure the styptic had done its job. Then Gabe took the bird and gently set her in the box in her aviary. We watched her for another hour and declared that the emergency was over.
The next day I went down to the park to see how she was and she was fine. She blinked, I sang “You Are My Sunshine” to her and she let me scratch her head. She got onto the glove for a short walk. What a trooper she is. I have a feeling that she will be one of those special birds like GHO (the great horned owl) who are just a dream to handle. What a blessing to be able to actually touch and love these magnificent birds.
Cherished Childhood Memories
The house is warm and comfy. The living room has a fire in the fireplace. I can hear it crackle. Grandma Mom is in the kitchen baking something that smells wonderful. I smell cinnamon so it is probably apple pie or cobbler. She loves to bake and there are several fruit trees in the yard including apple, cherry and pear along with current and raspberry bushes. Grandpa Pop is in the kitchen with her, sitting at the small table and they softly talk to each other. If it wasn’t for the refuge I find being in this house I know my childhood would pass with little joy.
The house is a two story Dutch colonial that was built by Uncle Art. I didn’t know him but Mommy and Mom say a lot of good things about him. I love this big old house. It has three bedrooms and a sewing room on the second floor. There is also a large bathroom. A door in the sewing room goes out onto a small balcony. The stairs to the attic go up from Pop’s bedroom. The attic holds all kinds of treasure that I love to go through.
My favorite is an old chest full of movie stars pictures that my Aunt Joyce and Aunt Shirley have collected over many years. There are dozens of them. Shirley is married now but Joyce still lives here. She is only six years older than me. I am ten. Sometimes Joyce lets me try on her formals. She has such pretty ones with lace and taffeta, satin and light netting. The skirts flared out and I twirl around and Joyce laughs at my antics.
On the first floor is the kitchen, a large formal dining room, the living room with a fireplace and my favorite, the sunroom. The sunroom is small but it has windows all around the outside walls. There is a piano, a rocking chair and all of Mom’s plants on plant stands around the windows. Most of them are succulents.
The house also has a basement with laundry area, a commode stall, home canned vegetable room that we call the root cellar and a huge furnace. There is a ping-pong table in the front part of the basement. There is also a storm door leading outside. The main stairs go up into the kitchen. My cousin David likes the basement but I prefer the attic. Did I mention that I love this house?
My favorite thing in the world is to sit in the rocking chair in the sunroom during winter and watch the snowfall under the streetlight at night. There are no words to describe the peace and beauty I feel at these moments. It is like being transported to a different time and place. I just sit there alone in the dark; rocking and watching the flakes drift slowly down. Every once in a while a small gust of wind goes through and the snowflakes will swirl before kissing the ground.
Photo Credit: Flickr “G” Jewels g is for Grandma
There are times when the snow comes down so thick I can’t see the street light, only its glow through the heavy curtain of snow. At times a car or the city bus goes by and the snow eddies wildly from the disruption of its descent and then once again floats peacefully to the ground. I love this house and all the joy that fills it. This is where my most precious childhood memories lay.
