Life between the lakes, part 14

 

 

Wednesday Epiphany

I baked some homemade bread this evening and the cottage smells wonderful.

Today’s version is a little more personal than giving you the weather report from Deer Park.

Weather is important, Hemingway said so, but I digress.

Despite living a place with a beautiful view, it is easy to have down days up here because weather can impact your mood.

Today was quiet with a slight warming trend. At 37 degrees Snow is actively melting on Muskallonge Lake.

Today is also the Christian holiday of Epiphany. And it is was ironic that I had an epiphany today (which has nothing to do with the theme of the holiday.)

The epiphany is somber and has been a bit crippling and it is this:

After you lose a parent and the next parent passes, there is an invisible Tsunami that hits you from behind.

You can’t stop it and even if you think you could come out of the trauma unscathed, you won't.

The emotion is hard hit for a human heart to absorb, much less process and live with. 

I am taking some time to process mine.

Just had to get that out.

That and also that I baked some homemade bread tonight and the cottage still smells wonderful.

Saying Goodbye to Mom

 

My family has never taken the words “I love you” lightly; nor have we ever taken them for granted.

As my mother declined with her Alzheimer’s, as her caregiver and son I never thought of it like I would be losing her. That’s because once she was gone I knew she would remain beneath my breast bone and her light would continue to shine in the smiles of our family.

 

Over the past several days Mom was awake for short intervals as family showed up to see her and be together. Though she couldn’t clearly articulate any words as we’d lean down and get close to her she’d pucker up for a kiss and flash an occasional smile.

 

Earlier in the week, the Pastor from our long time family church came for a visit. We talked and his words were of great comfort. He visited with mom and we closed the conversation with the Lord’s Prayer. About two sentences in, without skipping a beat Mom woke up and joined us. That was the last coherent thing said in full voice.

 

I loved my mother and losing her last night is best described as a sad relief. She left this world knowing how much she was loved and her last words to me were “I love you too.”

#StandingOvationInHeaven

Your mother should know

My mother’s declining condition with her Alzheimer’s disease helped us reassess what was best for her and we moved her into a memory care facility about a month ago.

Her first week there was terrible. The second week, not much better. The third and fourth weeks showed some improvement, though after every visit, or day trip with us, all she talked about was wanting to go home . . . and it continues.

Every week on our way to church we listen to “Breakfast with the Beatles,” on AM 580, CKWW out of Windsor. Today the first song we heard was “Your Mother should know.”

It was Liverpool Synchronicity.

Mom loves being in her church. She always knows where she is and is greeted warmly by her friends. Despite her condition, she can fake things very well. She still creates a welcoming environment as she greets strangers who quickly become her friend.

After church we take a drive through Royal Oak and she marvels at all the changes. Next up is a leisurely lunch at the Red Olive in Clawson, where we’ve never had a bad meal.

We lose more of her each week. When mom doesn’t remember something about her parent’s or my Dad’s passing, I explain to her that it is OK to forget.

And then I give her the best reassurance I can to remind her we are here to help remember everyone and everything for her.

After that, she wraps her arms around me and says: "Oh, thank you. I love you."

You're welcome Mom. Everybody loves you too.