1/2 a decade later

I cried today. The realization that I could still cry five years later stirred me, not because I miss him,
but that his last days could still  hold such a tender spot in my heart.

I spoke on the phone to his sisters in Virginia, and we remembered that day together; one is 95, the other 85.

in the lilacs

"I knew my Mother's presence as a constant in my life for more than fifty years. 

Now that I know her absence in the same way, and I will know it as long as I live. But more important than either knowledge is her place in my heart, which does not change."

~Reeve Lindbergh

Forward From Here

I raised the window as I sat here in the sewing room today, and I breathed deeply. I was hoping to capture a whiff of the newly blooming lilacs just across the driveway from my open window. In the lilacs are the reminders of another year elapsing.

 Remembering is sweet. Remembering is difficult.

I am thankful for my Mother and the changeless place she holds in my heart.

I rested my head upon my pillow. It had been an unusually busy day. A memory, a glimpsing in a moment's thought tumbled across my lanquid mind. Three years, it had been three years since I was lying on a mat on the floor and heard my father's breathing cease, his time on earth had ended and simultaneously his time in eternity had begun.

I was rather beleaguered that I had lived the entire day without remembering. Last week I had remembered that February 26 was coming up. Perhaps it is good that the spiculum of those last months of his life have faded.

The day we were to leave and travel out of town to attend the funeral, Charlotte did a report on her Granddaddy. I remember how sweet it was to hear her report.

the art of canning peaches...

 at least in one's mind.

Every August my mother and father would roll into the graveled driveway of our then farm home, ladened with two bushels of vine-ripened peaches. They had stopped by the peach orchards on the way to my house while I was at home making preparations by pulling out the pressure canner, the quart-sized jars and the new lids.

So is this why I have had a strong desire to can peaches this season?  It has been at least a decade since my mother and I would spend the last of our summer days canning peaches. We anticipated the joy of canning peaches together every year. I still hear in my mind's memory the dancing metallic sound of the weight as it jiggled atop of the pressure canner and the sight of the many quart jars of peaches stored on my pantry's shelves.

Even before I opened my eyes to the haze of the morning's light spreading into my bedroom this morning, the very first glimpses that stirred in my consciousness were of my mother's face, she was wearing pink and she was smiling. And I thought of those late summer days we would spend canning peaches once again.

 But now September has arrived and the peach season is past.

the other side of the road

I have decided  rather than close this space since my role of caregiver has ended, I will instead post on other aspects of being a caregiver to elderly parents. I am looking at it from having traveled and reached the other side and maybe, just maybe, I can provide encouragement to those who are still walking that unique road.

It's certainly not a resignation nor is it a termination due to poor work performance...it must follow that  the time and the work has ran its course and has expired.

Among other things I am in the process of dropping the role of caregiver from my status. Funny, it is not as if I have been doing this job all my life, but the past seventeen months of full-time caregiving for my parents has defined me in ways that absolutely nothing else ever could. It has been the "best of times and the worst of times"....but it has marvelously enriched my life like nothing else could. Unless you have had the privilege of having such a call as being a caregiver to an aging parent, it will not make a true connection with you. You may try and may even think you can put yourself in that place and understand all that it involves...but it will fall short of how consuming that role is in your life.  It embodies heart, soul, mind and strength. For some it might have been a gradual change, for others is was instantaneous.

                                                                               November 2010


I had a little of both. Mother's brain-altering disease was gradual... years of climbing hard places alongside her and my primary caregiver father. Then when Daddy got sick and needed constant care,  it became as a speeding train with decisions having to be made quickly.

                                                                              February 2011      


Would I have changed anything, the manner in which I acted or the processes I mentally and emotionally walked through? Yes, most certainly. I am for the most part still processing many things as I get back to my life before the caregiving role became a huge part of my daily life as well as my family's life. What was then considered normal.

I am not sure I like the normal in that sense.

not like the rest of men

"Brothers, we do not want you to be ignorant about those who fall asleep, 

or to grieve like the rest of men, who have no hope.

We believe that Jesus died and rose again

 and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him."

I Thessalonisans 4:13-14

We surely grieve, yet He surely comforts.

the power of words and song

Every morning I pick up a turquoise blue journal with the words, "With God Everything Is Possible" etched on the outside front cover. It is a journal I kept this time last year and it records the every day pithiness of my days as well as those last months and days of my Daddy's life. I am purposely each day reliving those times through the words I wrote over a year ago. It might sound peculiar to someone if they have never actually experienced the death of someone close, someone whom you are responsible for as the main caregiver. But for me it brings a certain realm of peace and surety. Not of completion necessarily, just the provision of the amazing surge of His grace and mercy.

My mother's behavior a year ago caused an anguish of soul that was very difficult for me to bear. I got to the point that even eating became difficult. Her illness along with her circumstances of change and medications had caused her to be very abusive with words. Even though it was necessary for her to live in a facility, due to her proximity I was responsible for her care and upon a daily visit I would leave crying with hurt and not knowing what to do. In the meantime I was also managing my home, my children including homeschooling and very occupied with the care of my bedridden father who was living upstairs dying of cancer. Now why am I recording all this now?  Because I want to convey with total abandon and truth that the thanksgiving, joy and peace that flows from Him is real and I am only made the richer from this seemingly hard thing my life. James 1:3 states, "Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance." It is unexplainable to those who do not know the power of His Holy Spirit as the treasure it is living in these earthen vessels. His grace and mercy is as real to me as what I can clearly see with my eyes. It cups me and holds me close. It strengthens, encourages, and never lets go.

Now it is winter again and I am sitting here with my dear mother. No longer are her words abusive. She is at times as sweet as dripping honey thanking me with her upturned eyes looking into mine. There are  times of great confusion and talking incessantly without really communicating anything. Other times, which are getting more frequent, are bouts of hallucinations. These personally are the most difficult for me.

Yesterday, she was scared. Bringing her comfort with my words did not work, so I went to the piano and I played hymns. Those old hymns of the church, the ones I knew she knew and somewhere they must still be back there in her consciousness. I played those familiar tunes and as I sang those ageless words I could sense His peace pouring into me too. I got up from the piano and went to peek in on her. Her eyes were closed, for awhile anyway.

Joy is not gush; joy is not mere jolliness. 

Joy is perfect acquiescence, acceptance, and rest 

in God's will, whatever comes.

~Amy Carmichael~

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.

Romans 15:13