Tag: life

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Thursday the 12th: Leading up to Friday the 13th

The last person to see our father alive who knew him was Nick Doster.

My brother Ken and I had been trying to keep vigil next to Dad’s bedside so that he didn’t die alone in a room, but the hospice nurse urged us to go take showers and grab an hour or so of sleep when we’d become too exhausted. Some patients look for those moments to die alone, preferring not to have loved ones near in their final moments, she’d assured us. We knew the time was close, too, because just that afternoon Dad had begun the conversations with the others not of this world, but with whom he was having undeterminable conversations and for whom he was reaching.

Nick Doster and Dad had traveled to Wrigley Field in Chicago to see the Cubs play several years back, and shared a deep love of all things sports. So it was no surprise that when Nick showed up in the remaining hours of Dad’s life with a red Georgia Bulldogs hat, Dad found strength for an appreciative smile.

Imagine our bittersweet sadness when the call came at 4 a.m. that Dad had passed. We felt the grief of the loss and the joy of the release of all pain and suffering from this earthly realm into the Heaven he preached about all his life. Now. Imagine us walking into that Hospice room to spend time prior to the funeral home coming for the body.

Take all the time you need, the hospice nurse offered.

Imagine us opening that wide door one last time and looking at the bed, only to see a bright yellow blanket embroidered with Psalm 119:76 in black stitching on one corner covering Dad’s body – the sunshine of Heaven. And imagine a face at total peace, no wires or tubes protruding, no oxygen machine droning, the red hat still on his head against the stark white of the pillow.

My brother and I agreed – – he wears the hat to Heaven. We know it will be the perfect complement to his black doctoral robe with the velvet on the sleeves and the red piping. Above all, we know it will bring smiles to those who will come for visitation to see that Dad, ever the champion of going as far as one can go with education and cheering as strong as one can cheer for the Georgia Bulldogs, can still cause a stirring of hearts.

Imagine the grief

Imagine the laughter

Imagine the joy

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Friday the 13th For Real

This is a time of reorienting after the loss of my father on Friday, June 13. He was diagnosed with pulmonary fibrosis four years ago, and with both prostate and colon cancers in the past year. He began to suffer from SVTs, a heart arrhythmia that mimics a heart attack, because of the cardiopulmonary functions working in tandem with lack of oxygen from the lungs to the heart. In other words, the lungs weakened too much to support the heart, and with the chemo cocktail on his frailty, he didn’t have anything to fight with as he reflected on his choice.

These past three weeks have been a blur, since things took a steep nose dive the Tuesday after Memorial Day. He was transported by ambulance to the hospital, on to a rehab center, back to the hospital, back to the rehab center, and back to the hospital and then a hospice facility. He never returned home, his beloved dog Kona left there to wonder what happened to him. Within hours of his first ambulance ride, one of his many dog park friends came to get Kona and will keep her as her own, assuring both Dad and us that as long as she has Kona, she will have a part of Dad; we’ve arranged for Kona to see his body at the funeral home so that she understands he did not abandon her by choice. The blanket provided by hospice covering Dad during his ride to the funeral home was not laundered at my brother’s and my request – – this will be a gift for Kona. We hope it holds Dad’s scent for her forever.

These weeks have been filled with frustration, sorrow, laughter, denial, peace, acceptance, silence, noise, unforgettable moments, and hundreds of friends and family reaching out from across the miles to get the daily update and express their condolences. His grandchildren and great grandchildren who had traveled from as far away as Nevada to say goodbye arrived in intervals on Friday, just a few hours too late – – but we know Dad left on his own terms, and we believe he did so to keep their memories of him as they knew him in healthier days. Sunday was our first Father’s Day without our patriarch.

And now, our father – pastor, friend, brother, and legend – has reunited with our mother in heaven. We celebrate them and know they are at peace, and we lay him to rest on Saturday in Christ Church Cemetery on St. Simons Island right next to her, where she has been waiting since December 2015. So many stories have been lived and shared over these past few weeks, and there will be so many more as we navigate the days ahead – – stories and events that Dad continually referred to as the serendipitous steering currents of the spirit. His service will be live streamed on St. Simons Island First Baptist Church Youtube channel at 1:00 Saturday, June 21 for any of his friends who are reading and would like to attend virtually.

serendipitous

steering currents, Dad reminds,

are of the spirit

We anticipate and welcome these moments, and we’re on the lookout for every sign and every miracle that we know will be divinely channeled our way from Heaven.

Goodbye, Dad. Until we meet again.

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Say Yes to Oui

I find inspiration in the lids of the yogurt I eat. I buy this brand not just because it’s delicious, but for the messages and the pure glass containers that will root new plant life for me to share with friends. Here is a poem inspired by Say Oui to Time Off!

Say Yes

we said yes because

what we know about us

is that we like a big window

and gray and white

and newness and matching

towels and linens

not odd assortments

and light,

plenty of light

and good music speakers

front, back, and outside

for good 70s tunes

and fifteen trips to France but

not going there

instead, staying close to home

but still away, oui?

and time off

to enjoy it

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March 29: 7:56-8:27 The Moment I Knew My Husband Had Taken to the Hot Tea Ritual

We’re the world’s biggest YouTubers.

And by YouTubers, I don’t mean the kind that make videos and upload them, exposing every detail of our lives in the process, right down to how we organize our underwear in the drawers of our camper that we sold at the beginning of the month like some adventurers do.

I mean the kind that pretty much every weekday evening are checking for the latest posts from the people we follow. So when my slicing time from 7:56-8:27 rolls around, I’m usually just finishing the Wordle and getting ready to start the latest video from Keep Your Daydream or Turner Max Adventures or Randi’s Adventures. I’ve already watched and rewatched Plant Vibrations With Devin Wallien right when I got home and finished taking the dogs out and watering plants (Devin’s recent Houseplant Tour – 125 is my current favorite, and I’ll watch that one on repeat practically).

Seriously? A favorite word and it took five tries?

We have our fixed routine about it, too, like most other old people. We come in, change into t-shirts and pajama pants, empty our lunchboxes, figure out what’s for dinner, and then one of us will start the teapot for our evening hot tea during this time of the day. We decide together what kind of tea we want, and rarely do we have two different kinds. Usually it’s green tea, but sometimes we go all out and have black tea or white tea. On nights when we really feel like getting wild, we have spiced tea.

I’m always the tea fixer, but either one of us might hit the button to start the electric kettle after we decide which kind to have. That’s important because we need to know whether to hit the button for green tea at that exact temperature, black for that temperature, or white for that temperature. It matters.

My husband empties his lunchbox in the kitchen

Honestly, I wasn’t sure when I switched us over to drinking more green tea whether my husband would buy in, but he has.

Want to know when I knew it for sure? It happened one afternoon when I’d started the evening tea ritual a little earlier than usual because I was feeling chilly. He hadn’t even emptied his lunchbox yet, and already I was stirring the honey in his tea.

I heard him mutter something about meaning to cut something back. He took his tea and disappeared through the garage door. Next thing I knew, I heard the tractor coming from the barn and looked out and saw him coming across the yard – – with his tea! On the tractor!

And that’s when I knew I had a serious tea drinker on my hands.

I laughed so hard. It brought back memories of The Art of Racing in the Rain when that French racecar driver was in a race sipping on his espresso like there was nothing to winning a race. Here was my backwoods country husband still in his work clothes, on his tractor, sipping his evening tea, and here I stood laughing from the living room window and loving him so much because this is the life partner I’ve always wanted to be surrounded by trees with. In a house on a farm on the backside of nowhere where there is so much simple life to count on and celebrate at the end of the day.

Today is our anniversary,

and I’ll tell him

just what I tell him every day: that I love him.

and what I love most is knowing

that at the end of it

we’ll be right here in our chairs

sipping tea together

Living life on the edge!

Cheers!

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March 25: 5:48-6:19 – A Long Walk

long walk after work

out on the farm with the boys

we love exploring!

I come home tired at the start of the work week, which almost always starts out in high gear. All day, I look forward to returning home with the dogs and being able to put on a pair of sweatpants and go for a walk with them. More and more, my heart stays right here on this farm even though my mind and body go to work.

I gather Fitz’s leash from the basket by the front door – the only one of my trio who will chase a critter into the woods and completely lose his way back. Boo Radley and Ollie only lose their minds with excitement to get out the door as we prepare to take to the trails my husband keeps cut back just for us. It’s my slicing time today, my 31 minutes between 5:48 and 6:19, just before dinner, and the boys and I step out into the still-chilly damp air and hear the birdsong. Except for the occasional airplane, it’s all we hear other than our own footsteps.

It’s peaceful. So peaceful, in fact, that I could take the rest of the school year and just take walks instead of going to work, where the phones forever ring, the meetings never stop, and even the delightful sounds of laughter are still…..well, noise.

I signed my contract for another year, and by December of this year I’ll know whether I will pursue retirement starting 26-27 or hang in there for another year on the heels of the coming one.

So much is changing in the world of education, and at times it seems overwhelming to keep up. It seems there is no “staying ahead of the curve,” as there used to be.

The more I take long walks and feel the inner joy of the peace it brings just being home, the stronger the chances of retiring next year. I want to read more than I have the time to read as it is now. I want to take long walks with the dogs in the late morning. I want to press plants and decoupage them onto candles, to sew soft flannel rag quilts in light pastel patterns, to visit grandchildren and have lunch with retired friends…….to bake, to work the crossword puzzle every afternoon, and to get started on some writing projects that work leaves no time to enjoy. I want to think less each night about what I’ll wear the next day based on which meetings are on the calendar.

How does one know when it’s time to turn in the keys and sign on the dotted retirement line? If you’re retired, I’d love to hear your thoughts on this one. On one hand, I feel ready – – even past ready. On the other hand, it all seems so final to walk away from a career in education when that has been my life.

I would love for you to share your perspectives with me. What are your best tips and pointers, and your best advice for someone considering taking the leap?

Boo Radley and Ollie
Johnson Funny Farm West Side
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February Open Write Day 4: Inhabiting Life More Fully

Photo by Tirachard Kumtanom on Pexels.com

Amber from Oklahoma is our host today for the fourth day of the February Open Write. She inspires us to write observational haikus, just as the main character in Poet X by Elizabeth Acevedo does. You can read Amber’s full prompt and the poems of others here.

life rhythms in taps

fingers counting syllables

taking it all in

making sense this way

of all that’s illogical

poems can do that

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A Calm Christmas: Celebrations During Christmas

Photo by Element5 Digital on Pexels.com

This December, I’m slowly making my way through Calm Christmas and a Happy New Year by Beth Kempton (2020), and in Chapter 4 which begins Part 2, she presents ways to consider mindful giving as we celebrate during Christmas.

Kempson says, “Mindful giving comes down to three questions: whether to give, what to give, and how to give.” She goes on to explain that sometimes, the best gift of all is the gift of nothing (there is a child’s picture book title by that name) – that the social contract of giving is often felt most strongly this time of year when the release is there to simply forego gifting. In fact, she provides a statistic that 60 million gifts in 2018 in the UK were unwanted, according to one study, and that another survey found that six out of every ten gifts given to a sample of 2,000 adults were unwanted. Before giving, she offers 3 questions to guide the gifting: is it mindful, is it meaningful, and is it memorable?

Our office holds a gift exchange, and while it’s fun, I’d lay a wager that the numbered gifts fall into the statistics above. For this occasion, I look at the dollar value and either go with wrapped cash or a gift card from a certain huge retailer named after a river in South America. Everyone participating seems to like this option so they can either use it to further their own Christmas shopping or personalize a gift for themselves – from someone who doesn’t know any of them well enough to give a one-size-appeals-to-all gift in this eclectic mix of personalities that would satisfy whomever ends up with it. And it works like a charm.

For the smaller department sector, I set out to answer the age-old question about the best gift for all ages. Everyone loves it. Everyone needs it. Everyone uses it. No one expects it.

And I came up with the answer to this universal question by looking deep into my own soul and asking: what does everyone need that everyone probably already has but could use more of, where size, age, gender, religious affiliation, and political persuasion does not matter? And a clear answer rose to the top.

Chapstick.

I ordered three dozen tubes of Candy Cane Chapstick, along with a supply of clip holder sleeves I’d seen on a travel blog recently. The sleeves have a clip that allows users to attach the tube to a lanyard or a purse loop or backpack strap so that the tubes don’t end up in pockets, either lost through holes, melting with body temperature – or worse, going through the washer and dryer and staining clothes with petroleum spots like I’ve done so many times.

I grabbed a tabletop tree from Hobby Lobby and festooned the tree with the best guard against bitter winter wind that exists – this universal tiny tube of lip bliss. And here is what I discovered: you can’t go wrong with a candy cane Chapstick tree. It’s mindful, meaningful, and (hopefully) memorable – at least for a season.

Even with all of the thanks and appreciative conversations with people asking for the links to be able to re-create the idea at their family gatherings this year, the thrill of giving something you know people both need and want far outweighs the joy of receiving. It’s the greatest feeling in the world!

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A Calm Christmas: Abundance

This December, I’m slowly making my way through Calm Christmas and a Happy New Year by Beth Kempton (2019), and in Chapter 1, Kempton presents The Five Stories of Christmas that focus on faith, magic, connection, abundance, and heritage. Today, my thoughts center on abundance.

Kempson inspires readers to reflect on this:

What elements of the more commercial side of Christmas do you recall from your childhood? Which aspects did you find exciting (such as a television ad, the idea of stockings bursting with gifts, writing a letter to Santa, etc?) How do you feel about Christmas shopping?

The first element of the commercial side of Christmas that I remember from childhood is the Sears Christmas Catalog Wish Book. I spent hours turning the pages of the toy section of the catalog as if those were the only toys in the world, all waiting on shelves at the North Pole to be delivered by a magical reindeer-pulled sleigh.

That wish book should not have been any different for me, really. My grandmother worked in downtown Waycross, Georgia in the Sears Catalog Department, so my entire childhood was filled with items from Sears – from housewares to clothing and everything in between. I had Winnie the Pooh on every shirt I owned, along with the matching shorts and pants, and I’m pretty sure that Sears short sets were the precursor to Garanimals. Whatever we may have needed, we mostly got it from Sears with the secret inherited family discount that all came down through Grandma Eunice.

Those catalogs weren’t just toy finders, either. They were the small-town Georgia equivalent of the New York City phonebooks used as booster seats for kids at Christmas dinner. It was the one time of the year we actually ate at the formal dining room table, and the catalog boost did the trick.

Shopping was an altogether different matter. My mother loved shopping at Lenox Square in Rich’s in Atlanta, Georgia the day afterThanksgiving. We spent all day there with my aunt, and it started at 6:00 a.m. to get the bargains, starting in Rich’s – before it became Macy’s. In fact, the men would drop off the ladies and the children and go back home to watch football and relax, but they would make a swoop back to the basement door of Rich’s by the candy counter so that the ladies could pack all the treasures in the car without having to lug so many bags. By the time the men returned, the women had fulfilled their part of the day with us cousins. We’d been through the Secret Santa gift shop with our own personal elf to help us shop with the money and list our mothers had made, and we’d also seen the pink pig. We got to go home and play board games when the men came back. It was the dads’ turn to be on kid duty. The women? They kept shopping – without kids in tow.

I’m pretty sure that’s where I developed my lingering distaste for shopping. I don’t like traffic, I abhor frenzied crowds, and I don’t like the “thrill” of the hunt. As an adult, I never have been one to have much more than what I need (except in food and shoes), so the excess of clearance and sale items in the name of saving money never made much sense to me about things we hadn’t needed in the first place. Were we really saving money if the need wasn’t there?

These experiences had a place, though, in shaping the shopper I am today. These days, I ask family members for the digital equivalent of the Sears Christmas Catalog Wish Book in the form of links. My daughter in law is amazing about it, too. She has the lists ready, one per grandchild, and it allows me to shop Black Friday and Cyber Monday sales as we purchase gifts for our grandchildren. We use this principle: Something you want, Something you need, Something to Wear, and Something to read. That’s how we buy for each grandchild (number 7 will be here 2 days after Christmas, if not before).

It’s what we call simple abundance: having the things we need, but leaving plenty enough wishing room.

On a scale of 1-10, I’d rate celebration of abundance by way of Christmas shopping and gifting as a 5 in importance. The ratings of each section will be used to create my Christmas constellation on Friday.

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Vestibular Therapy: A Thick Slice of Questions – Day 1 of 3

and so it begins:

vestibular therapy

hold on for the ride…….

Photo by Suliman Sallehi on Pexels.com

I began vestibular therapy for vertigo last week after a five year ride of progressing intensity and frequency, and the older I get, the more I realize I’m my mother’s daughter. Mom suffered migraines most of her life – the kind where she had to go to her room, draw the blinds, put on an eye mask and take to the bed for the day in complete stillness. We had to be completely silent and not move around the house where she could hear our steps or our talking or breathing. .

My father, still living, has had bouts of vertigo from time to time throughout his life, his episodes bringing dizziness and nausea. He does not have headaches with his.

So I come to this psychedelic DNA altar honestly.

I answered all the hundreds of questions to help them fine-tune my triggers.

Yes, I’ve done some of the exercises I watched on YouTube. I have tried the Epley maneuver and it only makes me sicker and does not stop the movement. I use an Iso Cool pillow, have used one since 2008 and replaced it several times and they don’t make them like they used to – and yes, I’ve tried every kind of pillow out there. I sleep on a memory foam mattress, the kind that arrives in a box you have to cut open and watch rise like dough for 48 hours. I have four inches of memory foam toppers on top of that. I fight three dogs and a husband for space in that bed most nights. Bags…. let’s see, I carry a leather tote bag always on my left shoulder, rarely my right. That’s for work. I usually wear either a leather backpack or a canvas one with RTID if I’m going out for the day on a personal excursion, but only the tote bag is overloaded. No regular traditional purse for me. I do not eat a gluten-free diet (yet, anyway, but it sounds like I might be Googling that up when I get home). I prefer cloudy days to sunny ones – always have – the darker and stormier the better, probably because I don’t feel guilty reading on those days. I prefer cooler temperatures to warmer ones but I like to wrap up and find warmth in the cold. I sleep on my sides, my stomach, my back – wherever I can find sleep. I don’t have sleep apnea or snore unless I have a nasal cold. I take Melatonin to help me relax, and it helps me get to sleep but not stay asleep. Heck yes, my work life is stressful, and I use a computer a lot, especially during data windows where I’m disaggregating data in spreadsheets for days on end. I do have blue light glasses just for that. Yes, I work directly under a fluorescent light in a cubicle. No, I have not adjusted my computer light to low with the yellow glow, but I’ll add that to the list of to-dos. I do carry stress in my neck and feel eye fatigue. Yes, my home life is pretty quiet. Just my husband and me, our three spoiled brat schnoodles, and a lot of writing and reading with early dinners just like all the rest of the old folks we know – it is a place of peace, not triggering any headaches. And yes, I get at least 8 hours of sleep at night.

Yes, I get nausea. The kind I wish I could throw up and get it over with, but it takes hold and won’t turn loose.

Yes, I get a headache with my vertigo, but I must distinguish between the pressure headache and the painful headache. My vertigo headache is not the one with localized throbbing pain. My vertigo headache is a pressure headache – weird and uncomfortable, but distinctly different from the headache that comes at 3:00 like clockwork for some, on the heels of a day that was over the top. Describe the pressure headache? Sure. Please excuse my TMI here, but it’s like my brain has gas and gets bloated and there’s no valve. My right eye goes wonky like it pulls down a little like maybe that’s where a tight balloon is tied off and yet there’s no valve to release any of the pressure because I can’t let it out through my ear.

Describe a day of vertigo and what that’s like? That’s a post for tomorrow.

I’ll share my journey so far across 3 days this week, because I’ve learned more in two hours than in all the past 5 years put together.

Special thanks to Two Writing Teachers at Slice of Life
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Home from Kentucky

The drive took 8 1/2 hours with only one stop to fill up the gas tank and to get an iced mocha and a Rice Krispy treat as a snackish meal to avoid making a time consuming stop. When I blew through Nashville without any significant delays, this should have been the signal flag that I was in traffic trouble in Chattanooga and Atlanta.

Standstill traffic in each of those two cities set me back by two hours – about an hour each with stop and go brake lights and watching the rear view mirror in case I needed to brace myself for a texting driver not paying attention. I finished my audiobook and talked to family on the phone, catching up from the few days I was away.

A return to my own bed and flatter memory foam pillows was bittersweet. I miss my daughter and her fiancé already, but I rest in the comfort that they are continually building their new life together a few states away, while mine is here. There is great blessing in the peace of knowing that she is deeply happy and that so many prayers have been answered.

they moved in today

opened new doors to new life

forever as one