I have great friends. Very close friends, not as close friends, wonderful acquaintances, work friends, school friends, parents of other kids friends, friends who work in the same field as me, past work friends, and friends who I can't even remember how we became friends; all just amazing friends.
Our local fair just came and went. It was there, at the fair, that I experienced this latest overwhelming epiphany. I have great, wonderful, amazing friends. And the having of these friends is what makes my life full, completely, almost to bursting. The kind of full I have felt recently when holding my first grandchild for the first time, the "I don't deserve this much happiness and goodness, but I'm so thankful for it" kind of full.
Three is usually the minimum amount of times I go to the fair: once to work, once for my daughter to ride the rides, and once to just take it all in. If I can fit in more, I do, but three is usually my minimum.
My trips to the fair this year included the more-than-normal amount of running into friends. A number of them were ones I haven't seen in 15 to 20 years. It was a beautiful thing to reach back in time and hug these people again. And in doing so, to realize that, though my journey has been long, there have been other people on their own journey, too, in a kind of parallel universe, all happening at the same time, in the same kind of order, all of us giving birth, raising toddlers, working through the middle school pains, into the graduation years and, most recently, the reinvention of ourselves as grandparents.
The cycle of life, we all have our ticket and have gotten on board and, though we may be on a different track, most of the trains are going in a very similar direction. There's no turning back, but our train does now obviously seem to be on a circular bent - quite surprising! Just like the earth circles the sun once a year, my train has made a wide loop around its original, more tight path so that now, from a distance, I can see back to the significant events in my story that directly relate to the happenings in my children's lives: Childhood, friendships, graduation, choices in dating, career paths, marriage, children.
What does it say that the last in the series, children, is the first one to hit me so smack dab in the middle of my forehead and wake me up to what's been going on around me this whole time? :-)
This, now, I know, is what our parents experienced, and their parents before them. And, in time, 25-30 years from now, what our children will realize, too. Life. A returning of all things to the cycle. Get on the train or just watch as the trains depart, but the trains are leaving all the time and to really fully experience the journey you have to get on board.
My friends, then, have been passengers with me on this wonderful, ever-evolving train ride. There have been stops along the way, some get on, some get off, but my train seems to be specifically mine and I seem to have become the conductor. I, alone, determine the track and its direction. I don't, however, determine all of the passengers! Serendipity, really, plays a part. And to be completely honest, I do believe at times I have let Serendipity be the conductor. :-)
I love my friends, I love my journey, I love my family, I love my life.
Half of a century it's taken me to be able to embrace all the pieces and understand their meaning; I hope that I will be fortunate and have close to another half of a century to share in the train rides of my friends and family, and *this time* to be more cognizant of the ride and my role in it. To be more of a participant and to give to each of my riders what they have given to me: The ride of a lifetime! A chance to let go completely and feel the joy that is the ride!
I love my life.
Showing posts with label age. Show all posts
Showing posts with label age. Show all posts
Friday, October 1, 2010
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
New life on its way!
Less than four weeks to go. It's a fact impending, though not certain. First babies can be early, can be late, but rarely are they exactly on time. :-)
Not that it matters; I will be here waiting, listening, caring, working. I will be here. Very little seems important now except this. Waiting for my first grandchild to arrive is carrying more concern with it than I remember with my own. Obviously that can't be true, but I do believe the uncertainty of this future is greater, as I will only be on the periphery. This life will be dependent upon my offspring and his spouse. For a person who likes to maintain control in all areas, what a tough prospect!
They are good, they are concerned, they will love this child with their entire beings. All will be well - all will be wonderful.
Grandparenthood: It's supposed to be wonderful, being able to spend time and then hand them back in time for baths, burping, bad times. There's an edge to the world right now, like I can't get a deep breath. I'm hovering on the edge of the next generation and not clear where the edge really is. All while I listen to Karen Carpenter's silky voice softly singing in the background. Raising children is really best done by the young; the old get lost in their memories.
What's the saying about seasons? To everything there is a season - and the birth of this child will knock me perceptibly into the fall of my life. Maybe I'm already there, but I've been unaware. It's all around me and yet I don't see it. But I am not alone here, there are others living in this season, too, thinking they're in another. It helps us to continue. We're not really delusional, but while deluding ourselves to some degree; not purposefully.
I love that I am here, I truly do. I can't wait to be called "grandma" or "nana" or whatever works best for this wonderful new person who will only be a quarter of me. And then not necessarily a whole quarter, more like a part of a half.
I must stop watching the old videos, they are making me somber.
Children. The best things in life. They grow so quickly. They procreate. A plan, a good plan, a way of life. A great, wonderful plan.
Now Sarah McLachlan. Building a mystery. How appropriate.
I can't believe how quickly the fall of life has arrived. The next thing I know, it will be winter. Ah, well, I do love the snow...
Not that it matters; I will be here waiting, listening, caring, working. I will be here. Very little seems important now except this. Waiting for my first grandchild to arrive is carrying more concern with it than I remember with my own. Obviously that can't be true, but I do believe the uncertainty of this future is greater, as I will only be on the periphery. This life will be dependent upon my offspring and his spouse. For a person who likes to maintain control in all areas, what a tough prospect!
They are good, they are concerned, they will love this child with their entire beings. All will be well - all will be wonderful.
Grandparenthood: It's supposed to be wonderful, being able to spend time and then hand them back in time for baths, burping, bad times. There's an edge to the world right now, like I can't get a deep breath. I'm hovering on the edge of the next generation and not clear where the edge really is. All while I listen to Karen Carpenter's silky voice softly singing in the background. Raising children is really best done by the young; the old get lost in their memories.
What's the saying about seasons? To everything there is a season - and the birth of this child will knock me perceptibly into the fall of my life. Maybe I'm already there, but I've been unaware. It's all around me and yet I don't see it. But I am not alone here, there are others living in this season, too, thinking they're in another. It helps us to continue. We're not really delusional, but while deluding ourselves to some degree; not purposefully.
I love that I am here, I truly do. I can't wait to be called "grandma" or "nana" or whatever works best for this wonderful new person who will only be a quarter of me. And then not necessarily a whole quarter, more like a part of a half.
I must stop watching the old videos, they are making me somber.
Children. The best things in life. They grow so quickly. They procreate. A plan, a good plan, a way of life. A great, wonderful plan.
Now Sarah McLachlan. Building a mystery. How appropriate.
I can't believe how quickly the fall of life has arrived. The next thing I know, it will be winter. Ah, well, I do love the snow...
Monday, March 1, 2010
A Time Capsule
The house is in disarray, but is it possible to have "good" disarray? Ask me if I feel that way in a couple of days, when the mess is still here... :-)
Actually, my son, who moved back in a couple of months ago when he joined the unemployed - along with so many more - has tackled the bedroom he is supposed to be living in. Since it had become a storage room because I have no attic or basement space, there was a lot to be done! The room is looking better, but now there are significant piles of organized chaos throughout the rest of the house. Hopefully it doesn't take too long to get through them all, and hopefully, again, I can bring myself to let go of some of these things!
Why do we hang onto the past? What is it that makes us feel that it was a better time? Really, was it?
As my son and his girlfriend made their way through the room, they made it a goal to get rid of anything that they labeled "garbage," which to them many times meant paper products: newspaper, invoices, school papers, etc. They had spent more than a day filling plastic bags with this garbage when I came upon just a couple of examples where we might disagree:
The single most obvious answer for me is: Yes. Watching my mom deal with her Alzheimer's for just the short three months she's been here now, I can tell you that in time I won't even think about these things anymore, let alone be able to remember the details. I keep them as a sort of a "time capsule" - something I can pull out later, wander through and remember what was going on during that period of my life in a very specific way: they are dated! Even with photos it's becoming more and more difficult to do this. I have whole collections of photos that have no date on them, and those are the ones that have made it to be printed. I won't even talk about the ones stored on my computer, that, while they are dated, run the risk of hard drive failure.
Along with the two examples I've already cited, you can also find in my capsule: A spiral bound book of hand-drawings from my third child's 2nd grade class, entitled "Five Little Monkeys Jumping on the Bed;" every report card I received in high school, and an assortment from other years; a copy of my SAT scores and my college transcript (two single pages, seriously!); notes from a Cub Scout planning session with info from each family (names!) on who would be responsible for what items at the upcoming camping trip; various assorted drawings and photos drawn or taken by my artsy kids; and two copies of my daughter's scoliosis x-rays, one early on and the other as her spine was beginning to resolve - much straighter!
Really, there's more. Obviously. My kids just roll their eyes at me, but I'm not ready to give up these things yet, if I ever will be. I am looking forward to the day when I pull out the - hopefully single - box that contains these precious items and can spend a couple of hours just perusing my past, remembering the teacher who went the extra mile and documented early drawings, the efforts that went into college, the 10 years as a Cub Scout leader (yes, I'll be remembering all three groups for whom I was den leader, as well as my three years with the Girl Scouts!), the wonderful fact that I gave birth to different kinds of people - some with artistic talent, and just how far we were able to come to better my daughter's life as she walks into adulthood much taller and straighter.
I can feel the warmth of it all already. The gratefulness of a life well-spent, the acknowledgement of the many years as a parent, and earlier as a young adult. For all of this I am thankful. And hopeful - in less than two months I will become a grandparent for the first time. Think of all the new things I can add to my box!
Overall, I would say it has been a good week. :0)
Actually, my son, who moved back in a couple of months ago when he joined the unemployed - along with so many more - has tackled the bedroom he is supposed to be living in. Since it had become a storage room because I have no attic or basement space, there was a lot to be done! The room is looking better, but now there are significant piles of organized chaos throughout the rest of the house. Hopefully it doesn't take too long to get through them all, and hopefully, again, I can bring myself to let go of some of these things!
Why do we hang onto the past? What is it that makes us feel that it was a better time? Really, was it?
As my son and his girlfriend made their way through the room, they made it a goal to get rid of anything that they labeled "garbage," which to them many times meant paper products: newspaper, invoices, school papers, etc. They had spent more than a day filling plastic bags with this garbage when I came upon just a couple of examples where we might disagree:
- In one pile of newspaper I located the group that had been saved of the coverage of my husband's dog attack.
- Located only by the obvious goldenrod color, my copies of a school newsletter I had worked on for many years had made it into the garbage bag already.
The single most obvious answer for me is: Yes. Watching my mom deal with her Alzheimer's for just the short three months she's been here now, I can tell you that in time I won't even think about these things anymore, let alone be able to remember the details. I keep them as a sort of a "time capsule" - something I can pull out later, wander through and remember what was going on during that period of my life in a very specific way: they are dated! Even with photos it's becoming more and more difficult to do this. I have whole collections of photos that have no date on them, and those are the ones that have made it to be printed. I won't even talk about the ones stored on my computer, that, while they are dated, run the risk of hard drive failure.
Along with the two examples I've already cited, you can also find in my capsule: A spiral bound book of hand-drawings from my third child's 2nd grade class, entitled "Five Little Monkeys Jumping on the Bed;" every report card I received in high school, and an assortment from other years; a copy of my SAT scores and my college transcript (two single pages, seriously!); notes from a Cub Scout planning session with info from each family (names!) on who would be responsible for what items at the upcoming camping trip; various assorted drawings and photos drawn or taken by my artsy kids; and two copies of my daughter's scoliosis x-rays, one early on and the other as her spine was beginning to resolve - much straighter!
Really, there's more. Obviously. My kids just roll their eyes at me, but I'm not ready to give up these things yet, if I ever will be. I am looking forward to the day when I pull out the - hopefully single - box that contains these precious items and can spend a couple of hours just perusing my past, remembering the teacher who went the extra mile and documented early drawings, the efforts that went into college, the 10 years as a Cub Scout leader (yes, I'll be remembering all three groups for whom I was den leader, as well as my three years with the Girl Scouts!), the wonderful fact that I gave birth to different kinds of people - some with artistic talent, and just how far we were able to come to better my daughter's life as she walks into adulthood much taller and straighter.
I can feel the warmth of it all already. The gratefulness of a life well-spent, the acknowledgement of the many years as a parent, and earlier as a young adult. For all of this I am thankful. And hopeful - in less than two months I will become a grandparent for the first time. Think of all the new things I can add to my box!
Overall, I would say it has been a good week. :0)
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Assisted living...
And so it begins...
Today is the day my mom returns to California, to spend her time relinquishing herself of as many personal items as she can bear to part with. It appears that over the course of the last two weeks, as we've visited assisted/independent living facilities here in our fair city, she has finally come to terms with moving back into our "rainy" environ.
You see, she hates the weather here. Absolutely loathes it, really. She is convinced she is a sufferer of SAD (Sun Affective Disorder?), the condition where she gets depressed unless she has a healthy dose of sun every day. Each and every place we visited, she asked whether she would be allowed to install lamps with vitamin D lights -- of course, we had no detractors.
But she has come to terms, at least it seems, that she must return to Tacoma. While one could argue the point, since three of her children, plus five grandchildren (and 2 spouses), live here, she really is just hoping to reconnect with her family in her later years.
She has spent the last 12 years in California, living near to her eldest child. However, with her husband's passing three years ago (is it really that long?) and her 81st birthday having arrived this year, plus the addition of an Alzheimer's patch to her medical regime, even she can't deny that being closer to the bulk of the family is the best choice.
I am saddened. It's difficult to believe that these are the times we find ourselves in. It's a bit overwhelming to know that in the next few years I will become pretty accustomed to the terminology that surrounds the physical/mental and care tactics for an Alzheimer's patient. I am looking forward, though, to being available for her medical visits. At this time, being long-distance supporters, we are at the mercy of HIPPA (spelling?), where most of the information we get comes from mom. It's impossible to argue with the medications she's being given, or the fact that over the last few years she's undergone more surgery and chemotherapy for breast cancer. One doesn't need to speak with the doctor to understand these things.
But that being said, I really want to talk to a doctor. Her doctor. Most of my information comes second and third-hand, from mom, from my sister, from the internet. I want to sit in the room when he/she explains to mom the possibilities for progression, what can we expect, what should we/she do for her. And I know that once this happens, I will be sorry that it's what I wanted. There will be no denying at that point. But doesn't having more and better information allow a person to be more proactive? At least with knowledge in hand, you must make a move. A move can be to "not move." But it's still a choice at that point, an informed choice.
Today's blog is about Alzheimer's, breast cancer, old age, assisted living. But today's blog is also a celebration of sorts. One that speaks of 81 years of real living, of making it to a point in a life where you can say you didn't leave too many stones unturned. My favorite card on the planet is the one that points out that the alternative to having a birthday is to not be here to have it. 81! 81 birthdays! And, no, we're not done yet.
Here's to many more happy ones...
Today is the day my mom returns to California, to spend her time relinquishing herself of as many personal items as she can bear to part with. It appears that over the course of the last two weeks, as we've visited assisted/independent living facilities here in our fair city, she has finally come to terms with moving back into our "rainy" environ.
You see, she hates the weather here. Absolutely loathes it, really. She is convinced she is a sufferer of SAD (Sun Affective Disorder?), the condition where she gets depressed unless she has a healthy dose of sun every day. Each and every place we visited, she asked whether she would be allowed to install lamps with vitamin D lights -- of course, we had no detractors.
But she has come to terms, at least it seems, that she must return to Tacoma. While one could argue the point, since three of her children, plus five grandchildren (and 2 spouses), live here, she really is just hoping to reconnect with her family in her later years.
She has spent the last 12 years in California, living near to her eldest child. However, with her husband's passing three years ago (is it really that long?) and her 81st birthday having arrived this year, plus the addition of an Alzheimer's patch to her medical regime, even she can't deny that being closer to the bulk of the family is the best choice.
I am saddened. It's difficult to believe that these are the times we find ourselves in. It's a bit overwhelming to know that in the next few years I will become pretty accustomed to the terminology that surrounds the physical/mental and care tactics for an Alzheimer's patient. I am looking forward, though, to being available for her medical visits. At this time, being long-distance supporters, we are at the mercy of HIPPA (spelling?), where most of the information we get comes from mom. It's impossible to argue with the medications she's being given, or the fact that over the last few years she's undergone more surgery and chemotherapy for breast cancer. One doesn't need to speak with the doctor to understand these things.
But that being said, I really want to talk to a doctor. Her doctor. Most of my information comes second and third-hand, from mom, from my sister, from the internet. I want to sit in the room when he/she explains to mom the possibilities for progression, what can we expect, what should we/she do for her. And I know that once this happens, I will be sorry that it's what I wanted. There will be no denying at that point. But doesn't having more and better information allow a person to be more proactive? At least with knowledge in hand, you must make a move. A move can be to "not move." But it's still a choice at that point, an informed choice.
Today's blog is about Alzheimer's, breast cancer, old age, assisted living. But today's blog is also a celebration of sorts. One that speaks of 81 years of real living, of making it to a point in a life where you can say you didn't leave too many stones unturned. My favorite card on the planet is the one that points out that the alternative to having a birthday is to not be here to have it. 81! 81 birthdays! And, no, we're not done yet.
Here's to many more happy ones...
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Half a century...
It's the morning of my husband's 50th birthday. He and I see birthdays much differently -- he's not excited to be here, while when I hit my 50th I was actually glad. It's not a popular viewpoint, but long ago while searching for a birthday card for my mom I ran across a saying that has stuck with me, and it definitely changed my outlook on birthdays. The card went something like: "You're having another birthday? Guess that's better than the alternative."
Seriously, what's the big deal? When asked, I always tell people how old I am. I am fifty. I want to be able to say I have lived fifty years and I am proud of it. I have done a lot in my life, things just get added to the list without me really paying attention, but at the end of the day when I look back, I really am grateful to have had the opportunity for each and every piece. There are many who have gone on before us who maybe didn't make it to fifty. Perhaps thirty was their last year. Can I imagine not having had the last twenty years? What a sad thought.
I am looking forward to the next ten years, I believe I've come to a point where I will now make the things happen I've always wanted to do. Up until now I really have focused on making my children's lives better -- that is, after all, my responsibility as their parent. But as each one of them has left the house and moved on to become responsible adults, I have been given a little more freedom. I will always be a part of their lives -- maybe more than they'd like. :-) But there are days that go by when I don't hear from them and, though I find it hard to not always call, I realize that they have lives, too, and that it's good to let go a little bit.
Don't get me wrong, I have five kids to pick from and so I can let up to five days go by without talking to each, but still have talked to one of them. I believe I've stacked the deck. I've made the best of this life. I have wonderful kids who are all very giving, responsible, loving adults, and they always make time to talk to me when I call, and I just need to give them the space to have their lives.
Happy birthday to everyone having a birthday today -- it's a great thing!
Seriously, what's the big deal? When asked, I always tell people how old I am. I am fifty. I want to be able to say I have lived fifty years and I am proud of it. I have done a lot in my life, things just get added to the list without me really paying attention, but at the end of the day when I look back, I really am grateful to have had the opportunity for each and every piece. There are many who have gone on before us who maybe didn't make it to fifty. Perhaps thirty was their last year. Can I imagine not having had the last twenty years? What a sad thought.
I am looking forward to the next ten years, I believe I've come to a point where I will now make the things happen I've always wanted to do. Up until now I really have focused on making my children's lives better -- that is, after all, my responsibility as their parent. But as each one of them has left the house and moved on to become responsible adults, I have been given a little more freedom. I will always be a part of their lives -- maybe more than they'd like. :-) But there are days that go by when I don't hear from them and, though I find it hard to not always call, I realize that they have lives, too, and that it's good to let go a little bit.
Don't get me wrong, I have five kids to pick from and so I can let up to five days go by without talking to each, but still have talked to one of them. I believe I've stacked the deck. I've made the best of this life. I have wonderful kids who are all very giving, responsible, loving adults, and they always make time to talk to me when I call, and I just need to give them the space to have their lives.
Happy birthday to everyone having a birthday today -- it's a great thing!
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