Re: Snow Storm


David Fenton:
Jess Anderson:

Sorry you've had such bad news. How's your dad holding up?
(Also, I'm hazy on your situation wrt sibs.)

As well as can be expected, I guess. We're midwesterners, so
stoicism is the norm.

Rural ones, mainly? Urban midwesterners don't seem to me that
long on forbearance. But you could be right.

But while home at the beginning of December I videotaped my Mom
and Dad talking about their lives up to and including the early
years of their marriage. My dad choked up 3 separate times,
which was quite shocking to me.

I've wondered if it's a sign of parents finally seeing their
kids as adults that they can let their true feelings out.

Another aspect may be that many people become more emotionally
reactive with age. For me, the vulnerability aspect seems to be
growing ...

The first was when describing his arrival home from the Navy in
1946, and that his mother met him halfway down the driveway --
she'd been watching for him.

.... did you see the Ken Burns series "War"? So many family
members in an awful state of worry about their son or brother or
husband, and when the news, good or bad, arrived, I tended to
dissolve.

Then too, when remembering my mother or talking about her to a
friend, tears can flow very unexpectedly. It's not so much
grief, I think; rather it's that *everything* one ever cared
about wells up.

The other two were when he was describing the first few times he
saw my mother. I think that these latter two would have been
much less emotional for him if he'd been telling it before she
had a terminal illness (and many of the details of these stories
that came out were things I don't recall either of them ever
telling before).

This is a thing that seems so impossible, with no way to ease
the pain and worry he must be going through. All you can do,
probably, is be there for him as much as you can (emotionally
more than physically).

I worry about him after she's gone. They really are a self-
contained unit, over 51 years married, and as close as can be.
(as to siblings, two sisters and one brother, all living within
100 miles of my parents).

One would hope the sibs'll be able to help your dad. Even so, it
will very likely be hard for him to adjust.

My friend A., of whom I've often spoken here over the years,
just got back from London, where his mother just died of lung
cancer, only 4 weeks after it was diagnosed. He's devastated
because he was very, very close to her (talked to her by phone
nearly every day).

Oh yeah, I fell apart for weeks when my mom died, unable to go
to work, talk on the phone, go to the market or even outside to
work in the yard. All of that was *so* not what I'd expected. It
was over 15 years ago, but I still choke up sometimes when
talking about her.

I don't know if it's easier to have time to prepare or easier to
lose someone quickly. I suspect there's not much difference in
the long run -- the loss is just as great and hurtful either
way.

Pretty hard either way, I suppose.

My recidivist alcoholic dad had been in and out of a state
hospital (Jacksonville, 40-50 mi NW of Carlinville -- a true
snake-pit, that place), where he died a slow, hopeless, solitary
death (from emphysema) at age 56. I was then 28, had never been
close to him, etc., so his demise was for me not much of an
event. It was harder for my sister.

My brother, 5.5 years younger, died at 61. He had six or seven
terminal diseases (renal failure, liver failure, congestive
heart failure, three heart attacks, two strokes, amputation of
both legs above the knees (diabetes), on and on), but it took
several years to reach the end.

He was in a VA long-term care facility in Martinez, CA. My
sister went to check the place out and felt the staff and care
were excellent.

At the end, we thought he took matters into his own hands -- he
skipped a couple dialysis appointments and was gone.

My mom's demise (she was 83) was quick: diagnosed on a Monday,
dead the following Sunday morning. The manner of it -- the last
three days in hospice, etc., the roughly 200 friends who showed
up to bid her farewell, her children, grandchildren and great
grandchildren all on hand, huge amounts of palliative care
(morphine) -- was pretty much my idea of the perfect way to go.

The actual end was magical, in a way. Through the last night
she'd been breathing slowly but steadily, then slowed to only
4-5 breaths a minute. But her pulse was still strong. Then it
too slowed and over the course of a few minutes came to a stop.
At that exact moment, the rising sun suddenly streamed in the
window. We all thought that was a fine thing, coincidence or
whatever.

That you taped your parents during the recent trip is something
you'll likely treasure even more later on. Although my mom and I
got along spendidly after she got sober (I was 40, she was 66),
there were many missed opportunies, you might say. For instance,
she was quite good-looking but I have only a couple pictures to
attest the fact, nevermind that I made more than 50,000
photographs in the late 60s/early 70s.

Now is your best chance to get some things down. It won't change
the course of events, not much anyway, but it might be a very
great comfort and even an inspiration later on.

--
[] Rene Descartes was flying the Concorde from Paris to New
[] York. When the servitron asked him if he'd like "Coffee,
[] Tea, or Milk," he said "I think not" and vanished.
[] -- (Unknown)
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[] Copyright 2007 Jess Anderson
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