Thank you for all the support about my dad being sick. He has been calling me every day, and I him. So far so good. He has had the chemo and the radiation and now he is getting the marrow. He sounds strong. A very good thing...
See you soon...
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Look up!!!
Look up tomorrow and wave... I will be flying over you to California... to go the wedding that...isn't... My sister's postponed wedding is not this week, yet we will be vacationing there anyway. But it is okay. We planned our family vacation around the event, so now we will get to do some things that we wanted to but couldn't because of the wedding that isn't. Actually, I'm looking forward to the trip and would never had planned it if she wasn't going to not be married there. Maybe next year she won't get married somewhere else... like Venice Italy... a girl can dream!!
Thank you for all the support about my dad being sick. He has been calling me every day, and I him. So far so good. He has had the chemo and the radiation and now he is getting the marrow. He sounds strong. A very good thing...
See you soon...
Thank you for all the support about my dad being sick. He has been calling me every day, and I him. So far so good. He has had the chemo and the radiation and now he is getting the marrow. He sounds strong. A very good thing...
See you soon...
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
and what i am not saying is that...
i'm scared...
he called me tonight.. to ask about the other father... but the truth is he called because he is scared... he had the first round of radiation after completing the chemo and now he is waiting... waiting to get violently sick as they all have promised he would. i could hear it in his voice, the fear. i tried to play it off, as if everything is normal. the usual harried tone in my voice as i am running from one demand to another. i try to pretend he is sitting at home in front of his television bored and looking for someone to needle. i try to pretend that his fear doesn't trigger my fear like no other.
i flash to the first time i realized he wasn't a God. i was about 15 and in my temporary step-brother's room finally falling asleep after a day of old world Italian viewing and mourning. i watched my father all day, graciously thanking those who had come to pay their respects. i wasn't concerned about his indifference to losing the man he adored. my grandfather was old and quite sickly in the end. it wasn't a surprise to us when he passed, the surprise would have been if he had lived.
i remember being so grateful for that elusive sleep to finally find me when i heard the door open. he sat on the edge of my bed and cried like i had never seen anyone cry before. he sobbed from the depths of his soul. a soul i so longed to know like my own. he hugged me and cried into my body saying things over and over again that i could not understand. his words weren't meant for me, they were meant for him. he was a child clinging to a father who was no longer there. maybe he saw me as some sort of connection to his father, a link or something. maybe he didn't see me at all, and just needed a safe place to be. at first i wondered if he realized it was me he was clinging to, thinking maybe he wandered into the wrong room, but the only word he said that i understood was his calling my name over and over again.
it frightened me, seeing him like this. i thought the walls of the bedroom would soon be disintegrating as i was sure this was the end of the world. the only explanation for something so strange to witness as the signs of the apocalypse. as i held him in my arms, it hit me. he is just a man. he is just one man's son. my father was just a man.
and that is where my mind went when i heard his voice tonight. remembering the feeling of discovering his humanity. he is just a man. a man sick with cancer in a hospital preparing to combat the side effects of his treatment. he is just a man facing his mortality needing a safe place to cling to. he is scared. and i am scared for him, and for me. i don't care that he is just a man, i cannot lose him. i need to know he is here and that i can get into my car and be where he is in about 20 minutes. i need to run into someone who knows him and hear the latest stories that will soon become legend.
and what i am not saying is that...i am not ready to lose him... i cannot bear this thought....i have always adored him like no other.....i need him on this planet.
he called me tonight.. to ask about the other father... but the truth is he called because he is scared... he had the first round of radiation after completing the chemo and now he is waiting... waiting to get violently sick as they all have promised he would. i could hear it in his voice, the fear. i tried to play it off, as if everything is normal. the usual harried tone in my voice as i am running from one demand to another. i try to pretend he is sitting at home in front of his television bored and looking for someone to needle. i try to pretend that his fear doesn't trigger my fear like no other.
i flash to the first time i realized he wasn't a God. i was about 15 and in my temporary step-brother's room finally falling asleep after a day of old world Italian viewing and mourning. i watched my father all day, graciously thanking those who had come to pay their respects. i wasn't concerned about his indifference to losing the man he adored. my grandfather was old and quite sickly in the end. it wasn't a surprise to us when he passed, the surprise would have been if he had lived.
i remember being so grateful for that elusive sleep to finally find me when i heard the door open. he sat on the edge of my bed and cried like i had never seen anyone cry before. he sobbed from the depths of his soul. a soul i so longed to know like my own. he hugged me and cried into my body saying things over and over again that i could not understand. his words weren't meant for me, they were meant for him. he was a child clinging to a father who was no longer there. maybe he saw me as some sort of connection to his father, a link or something. maybe he didn't see me at all, and just needed a safe place to be. at first i wondered if he realized it was me he was clinging to, thinking maybe he wandered into the wrong room, but the only word he said that i understood was his calling my name over and over again.
it frightened me, seeing him like this. i thought the walls of the bedroom would soon be disintegrating as i was sure this was the end of the world. the only explanation for something so strange to witness as the signs of the apocalypse. as i held him in my arms, it hit me. he is just a man. he is just one man's son. my father was just a man.
and that is where my mind went when i heard his voice tonight. remembering the feeling of discovering his humanity. he is just a man. a man sick with cancer in a hospital preparing to combat the side effects of his treatment. he is just a man facing his mortality needing a safe place to cling to. he is scared. and i am scared for him, and for me. i don't care that he is just a man, i cannot lose him. i need to know he is here and that i can get into my car and be where he is in about 20 minutes. i need to run into someone who knows him and hear the latest stories that will soon become legend.
and what i am not saying is that...i am not ready to lose him... i cannot bear this thought....i have always adored him like no other.....i need him on this planet.
file under whatever....
You will never believe what I have done.. I am shocked by my behavior... just shocked!!!!
I went out and bought.... another.... journal..
and I have been writing in it... with a pen..
Yes .... writing on paper with a pen... blaspheme.. or blogspheme!!!
And I have noticed something... my handwriting is horrific.. can't read a damn word!!! Well that isn't entirely true. I can read it a bit, but I noticed I have this habit of skipping letters then going back and filling them in badly. I'm embarrassed by my penmanship, and I didn't realize how horrible it's gotten... Certainly a case of losing something not used! Oh well, does anybody care? NO!!!
I am still having all sorts of horrific problems with a co-worker... it's just one of those things. Not the first time I have had a whack-job on my team. Why is it that as soon as I feel settled in a job, something happens to make me re-evaluate my whole career? How do people stay in jobs for 20 years? I seem to change every 5 or so. Either I'm having babies, or they are having problems, or the place I work changes drastically or something. The minute I proclaimed that I loved my job...pooof! Insanity began. This person has burned so many bridges and caused so many ill feelings between people. And worst of all, she has a very clear personal agenda that she is sacrificing kids' futures for!!!! I am still fighting the fight, though. I'm not ready to give up, although my resume has been updated and hints strategically dropped here and there.
I need my beach chair.....
I went out and bought.... another.... journal..
and I have been writing in it... with a pen..
Yes .... writing on paper with a pen... blaspheme.. or blogspheme!!!
And I have noticed something... my handwriting is horrific.. can't read a damn word!!! Well that isn't entirely true. I can read it a bit, but I noticed I have this habit of skipping letters then going back and filling them in badly. I'm embarrassed by my penmanship, and I didn't realize how horrible it's gotten... Certainly a case of losing something not used! Oh well, does anybody care? NO!!!
I am still having all sorts of horrific problems with a co-worker... it's just one of those things. Not the first time I have had a whack-job on my team. Why is it that as soon as I feel settled in a job, something happens to make me re-evaluate my whole career? How do people stay in jobs for 20 years? I seem to change every 5 or so. Either I'm having babies, or they are having problems, or the place I work changes drastically or something. The minute I proclaimed that I loved my job...pooof! Insanity began. This person has burned so many bridges and caused so many ill feelings between people. And worst of all, she has a very clear personal agenda that she is sacrificing kids' futures for!!!! I am still fighting the fight, though. I'm not ready to give up, although my resume has been updated and hints strategically dropped here and there.
I need my beach chair.....
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Happy Father's Day....
hug him
kiss him
squeeze him
remember him
forgive him
know him
see him
acknowledge him
tickle him
listen to him
learn from him
think of him
understand him
pray for him
love him...
(and don't forget to get him a beer...)
:)
kiss him
squeeze him
remember him
forgive him
know him
see him
acknowledge him
tickle him
listen to him
learn from him
think of him
understand him
pray for him
love him...
(and don't forget to get him a beer...)
:)
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
"Our fathers are sick..."
is what he turned and said with a little playful smile trying to balance the heavy weight of his words.
I didn't have words to respond to his, so I returned his playful smile and looked the other way for something (anything) to distract us from this moment.
Our fathers are sick. Both of them with varying forms of cancer. A word that used to stop me in my tracks, but seems so common these days. Both have treatable forms of cancer and are strong men barely gracing their 60's, so chances are they will be okay for many years.
That wasn't what he was saying to me, though, and we both knew it. These are the unsinkable men in our lives. No matter what happens, they are there standing strong. They have always been our whole lives. That is just the way it has been, and now they are sick. A sign that they are mortal.. mere humans.
How could that be?
is what he turned and said with a little playful smile trying to balance the heavy weight of his words.
I didn't have words to respond to his, so I returned his playful smile and looked the other way for something (anything) to distract us from this moment.
Our fathers are sick. Both of them with varying forms of cancer. A word that used to stop me in my tracks, but seems so common these days. Both have treatable forms of cancer and are strong men barely gracing their 60's, so chances are they will be okay for many years.
That wasn't what he was saying to me, though, and we both knew it. These are the unsinkable men in our lives. No matter what happens, they are there standing strong. They have always been our whole lives. That is just the way it has been, and now they are sick. A sign that they are mortal.. mere humans.
How could that be?
Monday, June 04, 2007
The wheel is broken!
That is what the little girl said to her mother to convince her to wrench the toy from her newly two year old sister's hand as she held out the toy in her own with the offending wheel making her case for exchange.
The wheel is broken!
Her brain does not allow her to say much more than these words, even though there is an ocean of emotion inside of her that needs release.
The wheel is broken!
Prompting her mother to begin the regime of prompting... Ready made questions. Ready made answers. How many times do we say things? (class?) Once!
The wheel is broken!
They have eluded to the problem without really identifying the problem. The words developmental and delay have finally arrived in the same sentence, but pervasive has yet to make an appearance.
The wheel is broken!
At first the room is unnerved as this display has never fully been seen. It is usually hidden beneath the scripts and cues designed to do so. Then there is some laughter that seems to come from a common phrase being repeated over and over again randomly hitting on perfect comedic timing.
The wheel is broken!
Her voice heightens as she realizes the meaning of her strained communication, already having struggled to get through her labyrinth, is no longer effective. She has no other phrase waiting on deck when this one strikes out.
The wheel is broken!
Her tears halt the laughter and the uneasy feeling returns. The way her voice strains in her last chorus clearly indicates this little girl is in pain. All she wants is her sister's toy. She doesn't care that it's not her birthday, she doesn't care that her sister is only two and cannot share, she doesn't care that she breaking all of her rules, she's just a desperate little girl.
The wheel is broken!
Yes, My lil' Angel, the wheel is broken.....
The wheel is broken!
Her brain does not allow her to say much more than these words, even though there is an ocean of emotion inside of her that needs release.
The wheel is broken!
Prompting her mother to begin the regime of prompting... Ready made questions. Ready made answers. How many times do we say things? (class?) Once!
The wheel is broken!
They have eluded to the problem without really identifying the problem. The words developmental and delay have finally arrived in the same sentence, but pervasive has yet to make an appearance.
The wheel is broken!
At first the room is unnerved as this display has never fully been seen. It is usually hidden beneath the scripts and cues designed to do so. Then there is some laughter that seems to come from a common phrase being repeated over and over again randomly hitting on perfect comedic timing.
The wheel is broken!
Her voice heightens as she realizes the meaning of her strained communication, already having struggled to get through her labyrinth, is no longer effective. She has no other phrase waiting on deck when this one strikes out.
The wheel is broken!
Her tears halt the laughter and the uneasy feeling returns. The way her voice strains in her last chorus clearly indicates this little girl is in pain. All she wants is her sister's toy. She doesn't care that it's not her birthday, she doesn't care that her sister is only two and cannot share, she doesn't care that she breaking all of her rules, she's just a desperate little girl.
The wheel is broken!
Yes, My lil' Angel, the wheel is broken.....
Saturday, June 02, 2007
Gotchya
About 15 minutes after I wrote the last post, Jay came downstairs crying and promising me he wouldn't curse and be so mean. He and I sat on the couch hugging and crying.. so needed that to happen. After peeling back the layers of my boy's complex emotions I found out that he is again being bullied by a boy in school. This is a boy I know who has a lot of emotional issues and takes his frustration out on my kid. We talked about what has been happening and came up with some strategies to deal with this, and I made him laugh a bit. He held onto me for a long time like a shipwrecked sailor might cleave to a piece of rogue wood. And I held him tightly quieting his troubled heart.
When he was sick and in the hospital, whenever I sensed him slipping away either physically or emotionally, I would hug him, really hug him, with my whole body as if to keep him from floating away and into his ear I would whisper, "I gotchya I gotchya...gotchya gotchya gotchya......."
It was more of a meditative chant than a reassuring statement. I would rock him as I repeated this mantra. It always seemed to calm him down, mind body and soul. So that is what I did with him in the living room for quite some time, whispered into his ear,"I gotchya I gotchya...gotchya gotchya gotchya......."
Since that night, he has been a bit more peaceful. I think he feels relieved, I know I do...
Have a great weekend.
When he was sick and in the hospital, whenever I sensed him slipping away either physically or emotionally, I would hug him, really hug him, with my whole body as if to keep him from floating away and into his ear I would whisper, "I gotchya I gotchya...gotchya gotchya gotchya......."
It was more of a meditative chant than a reassuring statement. I would rock him as I repeated this mantra. It always seemed to calm him down, mind body and soul. So that is what I did with him in the living room for quite some time, whispered into his ear,"I gotchya I gotchya...gotchya gotchya gotchya......."
Since that night, he has been a bit more peaceful. I think he feels relieved, I know I do...
Have a great weekend.
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