This is personal

Before I get back to work, I'm going to indulge in a short review as my personal reminder of what the past 12 or so months have held:

October 2007
Gracie, almost died from a rare herniated diaphragm. After emergency surgery, outlandish vet bills, and lots of TLC she is fine.

November 2007
Gordon, who gave me my first job out of college and was like a father to me, died.

December 2007
Two days after Christmas, I suffered a very bad fall and back injury that laid me up for weeks.

January 2008
My only aunt, whose family and mine had been "estranged" for 12 years, died. At her wake, I saw dear loved ones I'd missed terribly for years. This all ends well in terms of relationships reborn, but the anticipation and resulting emotions were unlike any I'd felt before.

and
The increasing frailty of my parents and the realization that they would not be able to live in their home much longer becomes a regular topic of discussion for my brother and I.

March 2008
My father turned 80 and a week later my mother began her final journey with a trip to the ER, resulting in a hospital stay, inpatient rehab, subacute rehab...and a recurring cycle lasting for nearly seven months.

April 2008
After months of preparation and anticipation, I entered into covenant membership with the Wheaton Franciscan Sisters. My plans were that this commitment would be the defining moment of my year. It was far from it.

and
My 80-year-old father was diagnosed with prostate cancer.

July 2008
My dearest friend in the world died after a long battle with cancer. Lucille was like a mother to me. She had just turned 83.

and
My mother suffered a heart attack after being home for only a few days and left her home of the last 47 years for the last time.

September 2008
My 72-year-old mother died two weeks before my parents' 50th wedding anniversary. I was on vacation in Wisconsin, called back home, and made it in time to be with her for nearly 24 hours before she passed...with me as her only witness.

and
My Cubbies imploded...again.

November 4, 2008
I know it in my heart...my year will be redeemed in one day.
This day.

A sorrow shared

My poor 80-year-old father, painfully lonely after the death of my mother not two full weeks ago, is sound asleep in my recliner. This dear soul lost his soul mate just weeks short of their 50th anniversary.

Yesterday he called me at work and left a message: "Please call me before 4 p.m." There was such sadness in his voice. He said he was really having a hard time...could he come over sometime? So tonight he came over for dinner and some TLC.

When he first came in, he slumped onto the couch and hardly moved for quite some time. Then he finally started talking...about Mom. Her last days. How he loved to visit her and help her with her meals. How he would say, "I love you" when leaving after a visit at the nursing home, and how she'd say, "I love you, too." He just needed to talk about her. I did, too.

Dad is still sound asleep, pulling the afghan up closer to his face, resting peacefully and not alone for at least one night.

Time lost and sad ironies

9/23/08
Dad and I went to the cemetery today to see where Mom was buried last Saturday. We had not been before, as Dad did not want a procession or graveside service to drag out an already difficult experience.

The cemetery is in Clarendon Hills. Not close to them. Not close to me. We found the unmarked spot, obvious with its dark black soil mound and flowers not yet dried. It's a nice location, for whomever that matters. A beautiful, tall, wide-reaching tree stands guard and offers shade. (Next time I'll have to make note of the type of tree.)

And not ten feet away, in a grave not all that much older as these things go, lies my aunt, my mother's sister Arlene. This irony cannot be lost on anyone who really knew these two women.

Arlene was eight years older than my mother, Lois. I don't know why that was the case, but I wouldn't recommend it to any prospective parents who have a choice in the matter. It's hard enough to be sisters in a disfunctionally cool and unemotional German/Czech home in the 1930s and 40s. Separate them by what feels like an eternity to them both, and you're setting them up for sibling relationship issues.

In the interest of honest reporting and to honor the departed, I'm going to leave out everything between then and the beginning of this year. No one can say what happened between these two women over 70+ years, save they themselves and their God. On January 23, 2008, Arlene passed away. The sisters had not spoken in some 10 years or more.

Lois had, up until then, held her own health wise in spite of serious and complicated health problems. But something was changing at the end of 2007 and early 2008. By March 17, Lois was to begin her final journey with the first of many trips to the ER, hospital, nursing home, rehabilitation centers, Marianjoy, etc. Just short of eight months from Arlene's passing, on September 17, Lois died.

So now their bodies rest in eternal peace within not much more than an arm's length of each other.

Now, too, their spirits are at peace. And I like to think there is more. I like to picture a young girl waiting at that gate for her little sister. Her sister runs to her arms, they embrace, cry with joy, and look at each other as if for the first time. And for Lois, there is a piano and a puppy and "a new bod," just as she had always wanted.

I like to believe there is now happiness and joy and love for these two sisters who accomplished in death what they could not in life...the reuniting of their two families.

I am grateful for their unintentional gift.

Starting with an ending

I'm not even sure why I'm doing this blog thing, but rather than stall any longer, I will dive in now and think later...not what my mother would advise, I'm sure.

My mother died exactly one week ago tonight.

Mom was not an easy person to know, and although I always thought I knew her pretty well, now that she's gone I doubt that. Several years ago she decided to start writing a memoir of sorts; recollections of her life for her "offspring." Sadly, about all we have is several pages of notes, and one page of prose. An introduction and the following teaser never to be fully explained:

My life was usually lived in a safe manner. My family was not one to take chances.

What I wouldn't give to have the pages that were to follow. Did she mean the family with her parents, or our family...or both? Both would make sense, but I'd give anything to have her elaborate. Why start her memoir with that observation? Was that something she was proud of, comfortable with, or somewhere deep inside did she wish she'd had a slightly more interesting life...and what risks would she have taken? I'd give anything to know.