Musings from a very busy week

Dorsey captured this moment recently. 

This past week has been a whirlwind of activity in our household. Since my dad came home from the hospital, and I let everyone know he is at home on hospice care, we have had visitors, visitors, visitors! And food, food, food. Wow, we have a lot of good cooks in this town! Thank you all very much!

I observed a few things last week that warmed my heart, yet also stabbed at it.

People really love my dad! The visits, the stories ... everything overwhelms me. I can't imagine living a life in which so many people love me. Wow. One thing that stands out for me from the stories people have sent in is the way he treats everyone kindly and seems to make everyone feel important. I can only hope to follow his example during the second half of my life.

This activity in my home is healthy but heartbreaking for my mother. Oh, how I wish I knew how she is processing all of this. I wish I knew her thoughts, and I wish she could express her thoughts as accurately as she's probably thinking them. I know that seeing all of this activity and knowing hospice is here, plus seeing my dad on oxygen, using a walker, etc ... all of this is telling her what is happening — what is going to happen as it's happening — so that she can grieve properly.

One of the things I worried about so much before my parents were back together in one place was that my dad would be there for her one day ... and then he wouldn't, and she wouldn't understand. She would think he had abandoned her. She gave us real reason to believe that when she was staying in facilities; Dad would be gone a little bit, and she would express anxiety and anger at him.

I think now, she will understand more fully, although I'm sure there will be many, many hard times for her when he's gone.

When Dean and Jo Ann Weese visited for two days this past week, my mom was actually with her friends, too. Jo Ann and Arlyna (my dad's cousin who now lives in Oregon) sat with my mom for two days, even if they said nothing at times. My mom listened to the conversations, and we talked to her, and even though she didn't talk much, I know she was pleased because she smiled. Just a few times, she would tell Jo Ann, "I don't like this."

But what she was saying was, "I don't like that I can't visit and interact like I used to."


While Mom can be quite talkative with us, she shuts down verbally when we have visitors; she has expressed a few times in the past that she is embarrassed by her inability to communicate well. She wants to talk, but she's afraid of looking "like an idiot." This makes me so, so sad.

Because I have been sick with something respiratory since about Thursday, I have spent quite a bit of time upstairs to myself. I've tried to keep my germs away, but also, I just have felt completely wiped out. (I'm 46, not 26.) It's always when I'm not feeling well that I become overwhelmed with the reality of my parents' conditions.

I've cried. A lot.

You see, I know where my dad is going after this life, and I am happy for him, and I am thrilled with the outpouring of love for him. I have peace knowing that Dad completely understands his reality and what he has to look forward to. All of that helps me deal with the unwanted thoughts I have of losing him. (I haven't allowed myself to confront the actual "when he's gone" thoughts. I'll go there later.)

My mother, though ... her condition breaks my heart. Her world is different. Her understanding is different. The way she processes emotions is different. Her life when Dad is gone will be different. She will have suffered yet another great loss.

I'm having a really hard time with that. I look at her and want to cry. I cry in the middle of the night when I'm with her, because she can't see me then. I think it's that I don't know what to do with this grief, her illness, her understanding or lack of understanding, her losses. I don't know how to store "it" in my brain where any of it makes sense for me.

Like with my dad, I can comfort myself with the knowledge that one day, my mom, too, will be in a wonderful, amazing and perfect place, all I can see right now is that she hurts and that I don't know whether she has the capacity to rest in that hope for herself.

Surely she knows deep down? It's so hard to imagine when I'm witnessing her terrible anxiety attacks.

I just have to trust God is taking care of her and that somewhere in her soul, she knows the truth. I mean — and this is deep — because I believe God lives in us, I'm wondering where her personal awareness of Him is. Does she have that awareness? I would greatly appreciate confirmation that God is comforting her on the inside, not "just" through those of us loving her and caring for her every day.

Just a few things to note if you're planning to visit and/or trying to reach my dad.

• We have decided to make Sundays and Thursdays rest days from visitors. While my dad thoroughly enjoys seeing everyone, it's also pretty exhausting for him, for my mom, and, yes, for Kim, Dorsey and me, as well.

• Please call first to arrange a time. It helps me coordinate and know what's going on. 

• Know that if you visit, you may be sharing time with others. I hope that's okay.

• Don't be surprised by our zoo. It is what it is. I'll fight that battle later.

• If you've called me trying to get to my dad, please be patient. I'm returning calls as quickly as I can. Right now, I owe a few returned calls. I'm sorry!