This picture was taken on our FIRST Thanksgiving together (1982), this year will be Thanksgiving number FORTY!
On that first Thanksgiving in Denver Chrissie got up from the table and fixed plates for my little dogs Lucy and British.
He can be fun that way and as I have expressed before he can be all business. He is smart, I am often amazed how he can hold all that information in his brain. He works hard. He is not afraid to take risks and often it is the secret to his success.
Beyond that he is generous to many without pursing any acknowledgment or gratitude. He shows mercy to those who have hit bottom and have made poor decisions and offers support. He is passionate about his dreams. He brings breakfast in bed and then cleans the kitchen. He chokes up over sentimental movies (more than I do). He can be mischievous. He loves his sons. He loves God.
He is a blessing (a favor or gift bestowed by God) and I am blessed to have shared so many Thanksgivings with him.
Thankful for family… those connected by blood and those connected by heart. You’ve heard the saying that blood is thicker than water but I say that when God joins two hearts, the bond is stronger than blood.
Without getting too deep into the crazy mix of my family, I want to say I am so thankful for the family God has added to my life.
One of these family members is Karen. Karen is actually married to my ex who is also my step-brother. In the past introductions were a little awkward (once we looked at each other like…what do I call you?) but now it is truer and easier to say she is my sister-in-law but really better yet a sister. A sister that came into my family when I needed it most.
Karen joined my family circle in a crisis. We first met when my oldest son was in the hospital after a near-fatal motorcycle accident 30 years ago. She was a supportive then and has stayed a source of strength and comfort through many highs and lows over the years.
Over the years, we went to graduations, we saw a son go to war, we attended weddings and funerals and welcome grandchildren. In 2018, she put in three long days in Texas helping us clean out our parent’s house. A task above and beyond any obligation or call of duty. We had many moments of laughter and it surely took a saint to work through more than 40 years of clutter and dust.
Throughout this difficult year Karen stood by us all as we said goodbye to mother. Not just my mother but her mother-in-law and the mother who loved her, her husband and his sister more than any mother could love a son or daughter.
My mom told me one once that Karen told her we were “buds.” Yes, we were, but we are more than buddies and friends, we became family and we will remain family to the end.
Today is Karen’s birthday. Happy birthday Karen. We met just before your 34th birthday and you have proven to be an amazing gift and blessing in my life.
Remembering my Uncle William today on the 91st anniversary of the day of his birth. He was affectionately know as UW to me and my family and he was one wild and crazy guy. If you had the pleasure of meeting him, you’d never forget him. He was a Texan’s Texan; one of a kind, a big heart, a loud voice, a swimmer, and athlete with drive and determination to live life to the fullest.
So many memories of him in my heart, here are just a few.
He was an adventurer. In the late 50’s and early 60’s, he lived and hunted and worked as a guide in Alaska. He had many trophies on his wall from those days and at Christmas he hung lights on the big moose-head in his house.
He had a heart as big as Texas: When I was very little (under three) my mother was a single mom trying to support three young children on the money she earned working as a waitress at Walgreens. She told me he would come to dinner once a week and leave a $20 bill under his plate.
He was a loving brother: As many tales as I have about him, my mother has repeated dozens more. Several years ago I recorded many of her stories on tape. He was the complete opposite of her and he extended his love to her in many ways. When I was clearing my mother’s house, I found a Valentines card he had sent her. Inside he had written over and over again until it filled every space inside the card… “I Love You!” I framed that card for her and it is with her at the nursing home.
He could be stern: When I was little I would go and stay with him and my aunt for a week in the summer. One summer I remember, I had been riding one of his bikes and when I came in, I just just let it drop to the ground and ran inside. I got a very stern (and loud) lecture on the value of things and caring for them properly. I know it made me cry but I have always remembered that and I remember it every time I am feeling lazy and am tempted to not put something away properly.
He was fun (and sometimes inappropriate): For most of my childhood we would have Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner with Uncle William, alternating houses each year. Every single year, at the dinner table, my Uncle William would tell a joke. It often revolved around the grace or a holiday theme. I can often remember asking what they meant and my mother would always say, “It is for adults.”
One I do remember, as I must have pondered it’s meaning for years. He was buttering a dinner roll and he asked, “Did you hear about the lady in the mini-skirt who went to buy butter? When she bent over the refrigerator case instead of getting butter she got bred.”
He was a teacher: For many years he taught swimming at his home in the outskirts of Houston. After he died one of his students wrote these memories on his obituary. “Bill Van Houten had more influence on my life than anyone outside my family. He took me under his wing when I was only 8 years old – I loved him immediately… he asked me to work with him – I didn’t know you could make money doing something so fun… he wanted to scuba dive again – he’s the one that got me started on that – scrubbing the algae off the bottom of his pool!…. I loved the way he gave me bear-hugs. My eyes are tearing just thinking about it. I loved him so, so much and I will be forever grateful for the knowledge, experiences and love that he gave me.”
Last but not least, he was a lady’s man: After his death we found envelopes with pictures of some of his lady friends. One envelope was labeled, “naughty but nice ladies.”
Later in life, I stayed close to my UW. I volunteered and worked at the Sr. Olympics in Houston when he competed and won many events; we traveled to California to cheer him on when he did the Alcatraz swim. He shivered for 2 hours after he got out of the water that day and he told us he never would have made if that one female swimmer in front of him had not jumped in nude. He said, “I just kept trying to catch up with her!”
In the 90’s he joined us several times in Campbell River, BC salmon fishing. UW was an avid sportsman and my young son, Josh, was a a budding environmentalist. UW and Josh had a special relationship but on this trip it was challenged. UW had caught a big salmon and I guess procedure is to whack them on the head to kill them and put them in the cooler. Josh was mortified by what was happening and he told UW, “If you bonk that fish again I’m gonna bonk you!”
Dec 2010 – One Last Hug
My Uncle William was athletic and he was physically fit into his 80’s, however his mind did not keep up. He was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s in his late 70’s. The last time I saw him was in December 2010. He was at a memory care facility in California. He was overjoyed to see me and Chris. We brought him some pumpkin bread from Starbucks and he kept asking me if I had made it. Our visit ended quickly when it was lunchtime and a little lady knocked at his door. I guess she was his standing lunch date and you can’t keep the ladies waiting.
He was a man of his time, he had opinions and you knew what they were but he had a charisma that drew people to him; he was bigger than life. He was my Uncle William, a mentor, a father-figure, and a friend and not only my ‘Uncle William’ but he was an uncle to my sons, my ex and to Chrissie. We will never forget him and I am thankful for his impact on my life.
Last week my dear husband tells me he is going to come into work late because he has a delivery coming. Imagine my sobering surprise when he informs me that he purchased a 75” Q800T QLED TV. Chris’s choices and decisions have always followed the motto – Go-Big or Go-Home. Why should he change now?
Now mind you we have no TV in our living room, a medium size TV on my dresser and hubby already has a big 65” TV in his man cave. I ask why? Why? Why do we need this big thing?
My sobering surprise quickly turned to complete shock when he informed me he was going to put it in the bedroom, on top of my 6 ft wide dresser. It will be awesome he insists and it’s a smart TV we can hook our computers up to it.
When I arrived home, it was here, in the hallway; the box was as large as a twin bed. It is even more massive than I envisioned, what one might call Texas-sized. I grew up in Texas and they are proud of the slogan “Everything is Bigger in Texas.”
This TV is against everything I am comfortable with — being subtle, understated, quiet and doing everything you can to not stand out or be noticed. Even so, I do not protest. I’ll tell you why, because Chris works hard, and if this big TV makes him happy then I am happy for him to have it. Chris will be 70 soon and over the past few years advancing age makes one realize life is short – a reminder to not sweat the small stuff. Although, this TV is big, very big, its presence in my bedroom is insignificant… not worth a battle, small stuff.
This morning we installed this behemoth. I’ll spare you the details of two senior citizens pushing and pulling it up a flight of stairs with a 45° turn near the top, or the details of me lifting it shoulder high to get it on top of my dresser with my frozen shoulder or after 1.5 hours spent setting up and being unable to sync to Comcast. It finally connects… then we learn the cable system was down. What timing.
So my Texas-sized 75” Q800T QLED is firmly on it’s 40” pedestal (my dresser) and it is awesome. Watching from my adjustable bed which is only 4’ away is like be front and center at a Texas drive-in theater. All we need are the swing sets and monkey bars out front for the kids and the popcorn. Don’t forget the popcorn.
This post came up in my Facebook memories from 10 years ago.
“Abba Father, thank You for walking with me in every season of life. Today, I cast all of my cares on You.”
Today I am still casting my cares on Him.
Last Tuesday I got a call that my mother was at the hospital. She had a blockage in her left peripheral artery and there was no blood flow to her leg. There was some discussion about her age, 87, and whether we should move ahead with surgery or say goodbye. The decision to do surgery would depend on the vascular surgeons assessment.
The surgeon called me at midnight Tuesday and told me he thought he could help her, but there were many risks and pitfalls along the way. She might not survive the procedure, they may not be able to restore blood flow below her knee which would bring a new set of problems and a host of other issues.
The decision was not hard for me, although she has dementia, she had still been moving around the nursing home being a wisecracker and spreading joy. I wanted to give her a fighting chance.
I arrived on Wednesday and she was in the ICU – it appeared that the blood flow was completely restored all the way to her toes but the first couple of days it waivered a few times and her heart was in Afib.
Today, they are moving her back to rehab. She cannot move her leg or toes and she has no sensation but pain and cold even though her foot is warm.
The doctor who saw her Tuesday night said he is amazed at how well her leg is doing. Best outcome for blood flow return he has ever seen. As far as no feeling in that leg (except for the pain) and inability to move it that will take time and physical therapy for that to return.
My sister and I are going to follow the ambulance back to the nursing and rehab facility and give her lots of love and kisses before she goes back inside. She will be in quarantine for 14 days.
I know the day will come when I will say my last goodbye, but it wasn’t this time and it’s not today.
This picture was the day after surgery and she had let me braid her hair. I took a picture today and she stuck her tongue out so you know that sass is back!
❤️ A multitude of thanks to the vascular surgeon Dr Helmer and his kindness. As well as all the staff at Ascension Providence Hospital in Waco.
I am a child sexual abuse survivor. I was a teen mom. My mother was a teen mom and I found out later also sexually abused. Now my granddaughter is pregnant. She also abused by her mother’s boyfriend. Is this a pattern or a curse? Is there cause and effect in play?
My mom’s story goes a like this. She was raised in an upper middle class family in south Texas. She had a stern strong father figure who dominated the home and a subservient mother the traditional 1930’s and 40’s.
The family did many recreational things together. Her father owned a boat and they spent many weekends out on the coast of Galveston enjoying the sun and sea.
When my mother was 14 her life was uprooted and turned around. Her father met another woman and divorced her mother after 23 years of marriage. This sent her mother into a state of mental decline. She took my mother and went back to her family in Virginia but long before my mother left for VA there were family secrets. She had been sexually abused by her oldest brother.
In VA she was as lost as her mother, no friends, insecure, in a new place, no emotional support. It was then she met a handsome young man just out of the Navy, seven years her senior. She was looking to be loved, looking to belong, looking to escape. They eloped when she was only 16. She became a mother shortly after her 17th birthday.
Me: Raised in a poor southern home with no memory of that tall veteran my mother married. After years of battery and abuse she left him and returned to Texas. Her father, now wealthy, helped out meagerly by doling out dribs and drabs of support. There she met and married a “good old country boy. “
Raised in East Texas he had no education but left home and hit the road as a bull rider. He was a hard worker. He did odd jobs and dug ditches and gave all he earned in support to my mother and her 3 children. He also was a strict southern raised disciplinarian… spare the rod spoil the child. Do not answer back, do not speak up, do not question or you will be beat into submission. I was a shy compliant child that made straight A’s in school, even so, I was “whooped” regularly with a belt.
Just like my mother I had two older brothers. However, unfortunately, both mine sexually abused me along with other family “friends” starting when I was young, very young; it began long before I started school. I have always had an old soul and at the time, I felt a huge responsibility to keep this abuse to myself. Along with the fact I was told to keep silent. My mother was also emotionally fragile and I knew it would destroy her. After all, how could she know or imagine what was going on? Imagine my anger and disappointment at her failure to protect me when I found out, many years later, that she should have known.
At 14, the “good old country boy” left my mother for another woman. Really the only father I had known was now gone. My mother, like her own, went through an emotionally tail spin and remarried very quickly (6 months) to the first man that paid attention to her. Problem was he paid also paid attention to me. Grabbing, kissing, inappropriate speech and once again, I was silent and protecting my mother.
Around that time a tall young man, 18, appeared on the scene. The son of a local restaurant owner who was a friend of the grabber. He offered an escape, perhaps he was looking to escape too or in search of an unspoken need. Many of us had wounded souls. I don’t know for certain but at 14, I was pregnant; we quickly married and left Texas in the rear-view mirror.
When I look back the driving force behind my actions, I see I was just getting away. Getting away from the creeper and the emotional suffocation; longing to just be free, protected and to breathe.
I was a mother at 15.
As much as I longed for one, thankfully I never had a daughter, but three sons. Possible this curse of abuse, looking for love and escape was broken.
At 48, I became a grandmother to a beautiful blue-eyed blonde. Her parents unmarried, were raising her jointly. I prayed for her divine protection. Her mother emotionally unbalanced on bipolar medication did some very strange things. Her father, my son, a military veteran and police officer offered a strict but loving solid foundation. She was shifted uncontrollably through the whirlwind of these two very divergent worlds.
My heart was once again broken when I learned last year that my beautiful granddaughter had been abused by her mother’s boyfriend. This abuse going back several years was revealed when she was 16. When her mother was confronted with evil, she defended her lover. She called her daughter a liar and many other things as she denied this evil. Now because of legal issues there is no contact between them. My granddaughter mourns for her mother, she still loves her (hard for a child to forget the good memories) but she is heartbroken over the betrayal that her mother has chosen her abuser over her.
Abuse, pain and loss. It repeats, and now a one year later my 17-year-old granddaughter is pregnant.
Was she looking for love and acceptance? Was she looking to escape? My heart breaks for the difficulties and trials that lie ahead for her.
What is this? I often wonder is there a family or generational curse? Women abused, taken advantage of by men who walk away and leave their victims to pick up the pieces. Searching to fix our brokenness. As adults we try to put the pieces of what we lost, the innocence, our childhood, our sexuality back together into a life that can bring happiness and success. Some of us succeed better than others.
Look around, listen to the news it is prevalent. A shame and stain on society that many turn their back on and refuse to see. It is a societal curse rooted in the most vile evil. How can we break this cycle?
Life is trying these days. So much adjusting. Adjusting to a virus that has us second guessing each move. A virus that takes its greatest toll on the elderly — in loss of life and in loss of emotional support.
As I have written before my mother is in a nursing home facility in Texas. A facility that’s 2000 miles from me. I was visiting once every couple of months but once this virus hit I have been unable to visit. The facility was locked down on March 12.
Since that time I noticed a decline in my mother’s health, her mental health and physical. Every phone call she ask when I’m coming to see her. Every phone call I tell her no one can visit because of the virus. Every phone call I tell her the virus is everywhere.
She began asking about different family members and saying she was worried about them. She would say things like, “I wonder if they’re dead. Are they dead?”
One person she asked about often was her cousin Gladys, they were as close as sisters. A few months ago I was talking to my mother on an early Sunday morning and she asked those questions about Gladys.
Gladys lives in North Carolina. Only six months younger than my mother she has no dementia and lives a full life. So that morning I called Gladys then called my mom back and set up a three-way call. They talked for 45 minutes laughed and giggled just like schoolgirls. It was so sweet and Gladys was so patient with my mother as she repeated the same questions over again. The questions were mostly about the present because the past my mother remembered fully.
Sadly yesterday, I learned that Gladys had passed away, a casualty of the COVID-19 virus. Such a great loss to her family. She full of energy, so loving and giving to all around her. I loved to hear her speak, her southern accent so much like my grandmother’s in the way she called me darling drawn out into a melodic – “Daah-lynn’.”
Now I am faced with a choice as to whether I should tell my mother. One side of me leans toward not telling her. Her mental decline has been so noticeably great since this lock down. The other side of me faces the same old question can I/should I lie when she ask about her?
After am e-mail exchange with the social worker, Christy, (she is an angel on earth) I decide I will not tell her. Christy tells me my mother has days when she will have a moment of clarity and remember the loss of her step-son earlier this year. She mourns all over again and it takes days for her to recover. Just deflect the question or tell her Gladys is fine. I have decided on the latter.
After all, Gladys is fine, she is more than fine. She is in the Heavenly realms with her maker and the lover of her soul. They will meet again one day.
I am up at 2AM perusing Ebay for kitty cat pins. My mom, Patsy, is/was a Texas cat lady extraordinaire. She always had a cat on her lap, in addition she had shelves full of figurines, teapots, cookie jars, bookends and every sort of ceramic cat thing ever made. Mostly all gifts from her friends, kids and grandkids that knew she would “just love them.”
Last year I shared about my mom’s dementia and fall which lead to her being unable to live on her own. I shared about the difficulties of clearing her house. Trying to treat her treasures with respect and knowing I could not keep everything. I took a few cats figurines, my sister took a few, I gave some “Patsy Cats” to her friends, I brought some back to Washington and gave to my friends who had met my mom.“Patsy Cats” were re-homed around the country yet many remained that in the end we donated to charity. It was heartbreaking to dismantle my mother’s possessions and treasures but it had to be done.
When the doctor told her she would not be able to live on her own, my sister and I went out to her house and picked up a few treasures to decorate her room. A book shelf, pictures and several cats to put on the shelves. In addition to all the cats mentioned above, my mom also had a large collection of kitty cat brooches. She had them on her sweaters and blouses and never left the house without being adorned with a golden cat pin. When we were at her house, I found a small metal box, when I opened it I found full of all her brooches.There were at least 20 in there plus all the ones we found still pinned on her sweaters she probably had 40 or more. I took them to her at the home, at least she could have all of these.
Now comes the sad and tragic bit. My mom has been in the nursing home a little over year now and all the pins are gone.A few months ago my sister was going to put one on her sweater as she was taking her to lunch and she couldn’t find the box. She told the staff that her box was missing and they did a search. They found the it in a ladies room next door but only one pin inside. You cannot get angry because like my mom, this lady doesn’t comprehend what is going on.Matter of fact, she insisted that the box was hers.The pins? They could not be found. Are they hidden around the care facility somewhere? Did she give them away? We do not know.
So here I am at 2AM searching Ebay for kitty cat brooches. I thought these things weren’t so much valuable as they were treasures, but apparently not. They are anywhere from 5-30 dollars or more. So I bought five, a couple were similar to ones she owned.I am going to bring them to her when I go down to Texas next month. Whether she realizes she has lost so many is hard to say, but when she sees these she will “just love them!”
A truly American Holiday that transcends all beliefs. A day we can all participate in regardless of our background or religious affiliations. Being thankful seems like such an easy task yet so often fall short.
This morning I am remembering many Thanksgiving days past. Ones from my childhood with my Grandfather, Wallace Van Houten. He was bigger than life and made sure our plates were never empty. He also ate dessert first! I think today pie will be my first choice. Those dinners also included my Uncle Wm always loud and boisterous, he made us laugh, and my Aunt Barbara who I admired so much. She was the Martha Stewart before Martha. They have all moved to heavenly realms but the memories and memories of those special Thanksgivings, will always live in my heart.
The first Thanksgiving Chrissie and I had together, Chris got up from the table and made a plate for Lucy my little dog. A tradition that went on for the rest of her years.
Multiple Thanksgivings over the past 20 years included many sweet friends that have all moved on to new places and stages in life. At home in Snoqualmie, one year we filled the dining room and living room with a super extended table. I think there were 17 of is that years from 2 months old to ninety. Although we are miles apart these days, those days, and those Thanksgiving memories, welded us a family that God organized and knitted together.
The grand to the simple. For several years when Josh was young, we celebrated in Hawaii at the Old Sugar Factory, warm breezes and the fragrance of flower leis around our neck did make us feel like we were in paradise. In 2014 our Thanksgiving dinner was a turkey sandwich in that same son’s hospital room. To say we were thankful for the blessings and miracles that year doesn’t express the full extent of our gratitude.
Finally, this year is the third year I am able to return to Texas and celebrate Thanksgiving with my mom and Paulette at the American Legion in Corsicana, TX. Back in the day my mom and her husband could put on a spread fit for royalty. They were both extremely good cooks. I remember all the favorites my mom would make and I have never been able to duplicate; southern cornbread stuffing, ambrosia, sweet potato pie and the best squash casserole anyone ever tasted. Once, I reminded my mom of that casserole and how she made the best fried chicken fried on the stove in a cast iron skillet. She said, “Those days are long gone.”
Yes, those days are long gone, but the memories will last forever.
One day, I will look back on these Thanksgiving dinners at the American Legion and be thankful I had these days with my mom and create a new set of memories. Life progresses forward and the foods, scenes and people may change but one thing remains the same: We have so much to be thankful for.
On my home after another Texas trip. Two days with my Mom and all day Friday with Paulette for her birthday. Not afun night out dancing with with the girls but a day together reminiscingabout the past, talking about the future and appreciating each other and the blessings in our lives.I found the lyrics to this song from the musical “Gypsy”. I think it should be our theme song.
“Wherever we go, whatever we do
We’re gonna go through it together
We may not go far, but sure as a star
Wherever we are, it’s together…
Wherever I go, I know she goes
No fits, no fights, no feuds and no egos
Amigos, together!
Through thick and through thin, all out or all in
And whether it’s win, place or show
With you for me and me for you
We’ll muddle through whatever we do
Together, wherever we go”
We started with breakfast at Denny’s, then massages in Athens ( the blackeye pea capital of the World) , detoured at pecan factory ( bought some jalapeño pecan brittle), steakhouse dinner, and a tour of the old Corsicana Opera House built in 1905. The highlight there, just so you know you are in Texas, was the disco saddle. Texas version of the disco ball.The tour was suppose to continue around the old buildings in Corsicana with anecdotes, tales of the unexplained and history of the past. However Paulette’s shoe broke and after the underwhelming performance of the ghost in the basement of the opera house, we left.
It was beautiful out with a full moon and we went for a drink before calling it a night. I wanted to take her picture with moon in the background and every picture I took showed a cross through the moon. I was using my phone and have photographed the moon before but no matter how I tried to refocus it was there.
A good end to a Friday the 13th under a full Texas Moon.
There’s an old white house with blue trim out FM27 in Fairfield, Texas. Even though it had aged and lost most of it’s glory many years ago, it was Patsy and Joe’s castle. A simple house in the country.
Before I left town I went by that old house one more time. I stood outside the back door for a moment and looked at the crape myrtle trees blooming on the edge of the porch.
It was warm but not hot, there was a slight breeze and after the overnight storm the air was fresh and clean. I noticed the birds were singing and the combination of all the things made me realize the peacefulness of this old place that they loved.
It was their home sweet home.
I took this small video clip with the flowers that were still blooming and the that birds that were still singing.
Just to remember. It will probably be my last visit here as well.
Last summer looking for some guidance, advise, help and yes, probably sympathy I joined a group called Caring for Elderly Parents. I was trying to make decisions regarding my mother’s care.I found all of the above there and after a few weeks I realized I was only one of many who were facing these challenging decisions.
I have found there are no “one solution fits all all” answers. Also, rules vary state-to-state but I feel I have moved past the crucial decisions and accepted I did the best I could for my mother. I did it without the help of my biological siblings but with overwhelming love and support from my step-brother and sister who have shown their love and devotion to my mother in tangible ways.
Some of the things I learned and my thoughts are listed below in the hopes some points may help others on their journey.
Family. Even though you have siblings, you may be the only one willing to make decisions. I was lucky because even though mine did not participate, they were quite happy to relinquish any say in decisions I made.I did not even waste my breath telling them how useless they were. They know it. They can live with their decisions, I can live with mine.
Guilt!It is awful, over-powering but do not let it defeat you.My mother had fallen and broken her hip but for the 18 months prior to that her doctor had told me because of her dementia, the time was coming that she should not live alone. I live 2200 miles away and had been making 3-4 trips a year to try and help her stay independent. When the time came after recovering from the fall, she was walking and discussions were started about whether she could go home. At that point she ramped up the pressure.“I want to go home! I want to go home! I don’t care if I go home and drop dead. I’m going home”. It was a tortuous couple of weeks.I, myself, vacillated day to day about the right decision. Accepting the fact your parent is aging and can no longer care for themselves is hard to believe and navigating that role reversal takes an emotional toll.Don’t let anyone tell you what “you should” be doing. If only others could see the battle going on within your heart they would keep their opinions to themselves.That also goes to companies that are trying to sell you something. There is one commercial that says…”because we promised Dad we’d keep mom at home.”That commercial makes my blood boil. How dare they take advantage of the guilt burden we are already carrying.Trust yourself, grieve, pray, rest when you can and don’t let anyone rush you. When it is right you will know.
Debts.One thing you may find is that your parents were good at hiding problems from you, a problem many experience. Before my mother fell I had taken over paying her bills because she had lost the ability to track and manage funds as a result checks were bouncing in our joint account. Only after she fell, I found my mother had several credit cards with high balances that she was behind in the payments and she had never told me about. I called and tried to explain the situation.I told them I could make very minimum payments for her which I did out of her funds.When it was decided she would not go home, I called and told them she could no longer make these payments as the state would be taking all of her funds for her care. They tried to pressure me to pay her debt. Don’t do it. Any funds you have you may need to buy personal supplies for your parent. My mom is left with only $60 a month to buy toiletries, medical supplies, or snacks. Use your money to care for your parent. The credit card company agreed to take the risk of extending credit, I did not. If they want to sue an 85 year old for a debt, although large for her it is small potatoes for them, well let them try.I learned that in TX where my mother lives there are protections for Social Security funds. So sorry Capital One but we are done.
Trust. Trust but verify. After my mother fell the lady handling her Medicaid application at the nursing facility kept assuring me they had filed an application. After months of checking in with her, I called one day and found she had been dismissed… no application had ever been filed. I finally processed the application myself. It took many calls to the state and oftentimes just calling back and getting another person is worth the trouble.If you find someone that actually knows what they are talking about,see if you can get their direct line!
Document. Trying to keep all the details of this period taxed my sixty-something brain.I got a spiral notebook and started documenting everything. Calls to the nursing facility, calls to her utilities and other bills, passwords for her accounts on state agencies and even calls to my mother. Often day-to-day it was interesting to see what she remembered one day that was gone the next. It has been a valuable tool and also serves as a journal to remind you how far you have come and reassure you that you will make through to tomorrow, to next week or month.I call my book, “The Book of Mother. “
Forgive. Finally but not least, forgive yourself, forgive your parent and try to forgive others. Through my own journey, I went through a multitude of emotions and feelings about my mother.Love, sadness, anger, frustration and sorrow. The hardest to deal with was anger… I was angry that my mother hid things from me, angry because I felt she wasbeing manipulative and then I was angry at myself for feeling angry. It happens.I have someone I can voice these feelings of anger to without feeling judged and that helps, because I think more than anything it was an anger that I didn’t want to accept the fact that my mother was getting old.Many of these things, although she may have done them in the past,she was not doing them purposefully now.Now I try to direct my anger at the disease that takes away your mind and independence.Forgive others… that is difficult. I won’t go into depth here but just know, the evil in man’s heart knows no bounds and it shocks me to know what people will do and how they will take advantage of the elderly.Thankfully there are fewer of these people and more of the loving and giving types.
I am running low on thoughts for now. It has been 5 months since my mother’s doctor told her she could not go back to her home of 45 years.I am now in the process of dismantling my mother’s life and possessions even though she is still here, that has it’s own challenges. My mother told me the other day that she didn’t want to go home anymore. ❤️ I think the past few years she was battling to survive physically and mentally, but now is cared for and loved.She feels safe and can rest for the rest of her retirement years.
Thankful for family… those by blood and those by heart.
Without getting too deep into the crazy mix of my family, I want to say I am so thankful for the family God has put in my life. Especially, Karen who joined my family circle in a crisis and has stayed through many highs and lows over the years.
Karen is the wife of my ex and we met when my oldest son was in the hospital after a near-fatal motorcycle accident 27 years ago. She has always accepted me as a part of her family. This past week she has put in three long days helping me and my siblings clean out my mother’s house, above and beyond any obligation or call of duty she had. We had many moments of laughter and it surely takes a saint to work through 40 years of clutter and dust.
Much love to you Karen ❤️ I know you’ve found many family members lately through DNA but my mom told me one time you told her we were “buds”. We are more than that, we are sisters.
I am truly thankful for and send much love to Paulette and PJ too. My mother is truly blessed to have them as her children.
Karen below after taking the last kitty cat figurine off the shelf. She says she is smiling!!
I am a person of faith and as such I am called to live by a certain set of standards. Anything below those standards is sin. Do I fail there? Yes, daily. Daily I am a failure and a sinner.
Now comes the difficult thing to explain to others who are respectable, responsible, moral, law abiding, loving friends, family and acquaintances who do not understand my views.
First of all, I do not presume to speak for God. He has set forth guidelines and commandments for living. These guidelines are for those who accept to follow. I do not believe I have to force these onto my neighbors, friends or family. These are not my rules but God’s rules given to his people.
Jesus said unto him, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind. This is the first and great commandment. And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets. —Matthew 22:35-40.
So God’s commandment firstly, is to love him with all my heart, soul and mind. Secondly, love my neighbor… All my neighbors, not just my fellow believing neighbors. In that effort, “in as much as it is up to me, I will try to live in peace with everyone. ” Romans 12:18
In doing that do I agree with everything my neighbor does? No, not at all. In cases, where my neighbors’ lifestyle is contradictory to mine, I just do not engage. Where we have common ground, I enjoy and fellowship with them.
However, social issues that have been front and center the past few months appear to have forced a paralyzing wedge between my views and the views of some of you. Although, many are unaware because there is a fear to speak as the unspoken mantra is, “Accept this view. In fact accept and rejoice in it, or remain silent.” If not, you will be labeled a bigot.
So here is my view:
As a civil rights issue, equal rights to all, on a government level, I say let the government issue marriage licenses to all. If they are talking about marrying according to a state ‘ordained’ union then let the state do what the majority wants. However, I respect and honor the principals of God. So when it comes to forcing those views on churches or religious institutions, to go against their values, to perform God ordained marriages against their religious beliefs. that’s where I believe that freedom ends.
Why should they be demonized because they are holding their beliefs? Isn’t religious freedom one of the founding principals?
I have in my family, homosexuals and transgender individuals. I do not judge them, I do not force my faith or views on them. I love them, not whatever their lifestyle, beliefs or political causes may be. Hopefully they feel the same of me.
I do not even take a view of homosexuality as right or wrong. I do not have all the answers of what makes up the essence of who people are. My hope and prayer is that God has the answers and reasons for each of us; he knows each of us more intimately than we know ourselves and he is a just and loving God to all of his creation.
Now comes the paradox. I may find, among my believing friends those who will call me a heretic, and say I am living with a foot in both worlds. I am fallen away, not religious enough or simply misguided. I suppose by definition I could be one or more of those.
To them, I ask you pray for me, as it appears God has put in me a questioning spirit. I desire to be an example of God’s love as he leads me. My hope and prayer for myself is that it will all become clear and I will understand my own journey and trials one day.
I guess what I am asking is for the same respect all are asking; for tolerance of opposing views. I hear you and respect you; I ask only the same consideration in return.
Emyloom ~ Words Woven Within My Heart 