Just away

We had Pop's memorial service on Saturday.  A handful of people came. But I know that they were the ones who mattered:  M., who made sure he got to mass every Wednesday at the nursing home and said that he was her favorite, was there; R. who we both worked with for years was there; G. who is our housekeeper and also worked for Mom and Pop was there; P. who is a trusted Al-Anon friend came and did one of the readings; and Mary who is my wife's first cousin drove from another state to attend the service and spend the afternoon with us.

My wife gave Mary the little gold mesh rosary pouch that held one of Pop's handmade rosaries.  He would sit in his chair for hours, before he was sick, and make rosaries to send to missions around the world.  I gave the remaining beads to one of the Catholic senior centers that can use them.  All of Pop's clothes have been given away.

We kept one of the crucifixes and will be giving the large one to his brother who is dying of cancer.  Dear C. is leaving on Tuesday to travel to visit two of Pop's brothers who live up North.  Brother F. has just been brought under the care of Hospice and Brother J. has a bad heart condition.  It's important that she get to see them sooner rather than later.

I liked what Monseigneur had to say about Pop growing up on a farm where family members were taken in when needed. There was plenty of food and a large house to take in relatives who were sick or having a bad time of some sort. This was the essence of the nuclear family that cared for each other.  How fortunate Pop was to grow up where family mattered so much.  Sadly, people are scattered now and the family unit doesn't seem as cohesive. I liked that Monseigneur described Pop as a man of the earth and of the sea. He was both, carrying vegetables on a truck from the farm into New York City and then joining the Navy to be on landing crafts in the Pacific during WWII.

I feel a sense of time suspended because I think about the way things used to be before they were sick.  Visits, phone calls, dinners, holidays--none of that anymore. I know that we are still grieving.  Every day will get a little easier for us.  I talked to Pop's sister about the loss of a child and her husband as well as parents and now two brothers.  She said that she thinks of them as simply being away.  And that brought to mind a poem that I recall from school by James Whitcomb Riley:

I cannot say, and will not say

that he is dead. He is just away.

With a cheery smile, and a wave of the hand,

he has wandered into an unknown land

and left us dreaming how very fair

it needs must be, since he lingers there.

And you-- oh, you, who the wildest yearn

for an old-time step, and the glad return,

think of him faring on, as dear

in the love of there as the love of here.

Think of him still as the same. I say,

he is not dead-- he is just away.

Pop is gone

Death came for Pop last night.  I received the call that he was not doing well around 10:30 PM.  I threw on some clothes and drove to the nursing home.  But I was too late as he died about five minutes before I got there.  He liked to do things on his terms so I suspect this was another opportunity to slip away when no one was there.

I spent time alone with him, before the night nurse came in to wash the body.  It wasn't coincidence that she was someone that I met and worked with during the Presidential campaign.  And then the same Hospice nurse who had attended to Mom when she died in February was there as well. She said that it was special to be there for both of them.  We talked about how he seemed to give up after Mom died--not wanting to eat, talk or participate in activities. After being together for so many years, I suppose it just was too much to fight to live anymore. 

And when the funeral home staff came to take him away, his gurney was draped in the American flag. Another special and reverential act that was  tremendously moving to me. He was a veteran of WWII, serving in the Pacific on landing crafts.  The fellow from the funeral home was also kind, and physically reminded me of my own father--tall and distinguished looking with white hair. 

I'm glad that I spent time with Pop and pushed him around the complex over the weekend.  He sat in the sun and listened to the birds. We went to a meditation garden, and he seemed to enjoy being outside.  I told him about the vegetable garden and what I was harvesting,  how his cat was doing and that C. was out of town for a few days.  He seemed to be tranquil and peaceful. 

I debated about whether to call my wife, but thought that she would want to know.  So I talked with her this morning, and she seemed accepting. I want her to enjoy the rest of her vacation.  I'll go to the funeral home this morning and make calls to his siblings.  Everything is taken care of here. 

It's a lot to absorb right now.  I will miss my visits to him.  He was a force. And now he is gone.

Stars in the sky

Finally, a streak of good weather for at least a few days. No rain--just cool nights and warm days.  I will be on the boat for the weekend which is good.  I am needing to get my share of boat days in, which have seemed amazingly short over the past few weeks.

We have been working in the yard and garden quite a bit. The strawberries are ripe, and they have been good with our breakfast in the morning. The blueberries are plentiful but not ready yet.  I ordered some blackberry plants that will be great for next year. It's time to pick them along the hedgerows now.

My cousin continues to languish in an intensive care unit.  Skeletal and with pneumonia now, I am hoping that his slow death will end soon.  I continue to marvel at what we do to keep those we love alive because not having them seems to be the most frightening thing of all. Perhaps, it's because we cut ourselves off from others, give up friends, and become obsessive about a person.  I see that tendency in myself so I recognize it and am all too familiar with seclusions seductiveness.

My father-in-law is much loved by a large African American nurse who cares for him.  She clucks over him, making sure that he is eating something soft, trying to get calorie enriched drinks into him.  He talks to her and tells her things about himself and his wife.  And yet, he still doesn't want to say but a few words to me or to my wife.  I know that it hurts C., but she is resigned to the fact that he was not much of a father to her ever.

Their history is one that had a lot of upheaval.  And she still has flashbacks of being a child in the midst of their arguments, powerless to do anything but hide, scream or cry for them to stop.  I don't know why he has chosen to shun her now.  But we both still go to see him, repeating the same visits over and over, hoping for different results.  The only thing that has changed is that we don't go as often, only a couple of times a week now. Insanity kept to a minimum level of damage.

My home group meeting has even had its share of upheaval lately.  One lady got her nose out of joint about how the meeting was conducted by a person chairing.  And evidently there is still some resentment hanging around, even after an amends.  I can sit still with the tension and share because this ultimately is not my problem to solve.  I simply get weary of the shortcomings that suck the joy out of something that is meant to be healing.

So I am happy with my plants, going to the gym, journaling, doing some photography, and sitting on the deck in the cool of the evening to watch the stars in the night sky.

“The nitrogen in our DNA, the calcium in our teeth, the iron in our blood, the carbon in our apple pies were made in the interiors of collapsing stars. We are made of starstuff.” ― Carl Sagan

She is gone

Mom died early this morning. We were with her last night. My wife spent Monday night with her in the adjacent bed.

Dementia is a horrible disease. We are both glad that her energy is not trapped in a wasted body.

Now we are heading to tell Pop. This is not easy. Thankfully, Hospice will be with us. Thanks for your thoughts over the past week.

I took this photo of her and her daughter's hands yesterday.

Crammed week

This is a brief post to let you know that I am currently in radar class at Sea School until Wednesday.  It is new to me,  and the plots are a challenge.  For the first time, I feel like quitting because I am tired.  But I know that I will stick it out. Whether I do well or not is okay.  I don't want to start quitting something now after so many years of not doing that.  

I also leave for an Al-Anon convention on Thursday.  I can't even think about that now because I am occupied with the radar class.  I will think more about what I have committed to do at the convention on Thursday.  

And finally, there is now talk among the doctors and nurses at the nursing home to have Pop be part of the Hospice program.  He has declined a lot since visiting my MIL.  The head nurse thinks that he has given up.  The staff were taking him to meals with the other residents because he needed help feeding himself.  They took him for a few days until he went into a rage and raked the dishes to the floor and pulled the tablecloth from the table. He was then taken back to his room.  Since then, he hasn't been very responsive.  

My wife and I are doing well, coping with all of this.  I will be glad to have a less crammed time and less drama.  I think that the Al-Anon convention will be a big help with that.  Now to just get through another day of school...... 

Tough time right now

I am having a tough time today.  I think that it's a combination of things actually.  The situation with the in-laws remains sad.  My mother-in-law is not wanting to eat anything, not even the mashed up gruel that is like baby food. Tomorrow is my father-in-laws birthday.  He is spending more time in bed at the nursing home, but today we hope that he will go to lunch.  My wife is going to see her dad tomorrow and take him a cake. What's there to celebrate?  I can't think of much right now.

I haven't been out on the boat to anchor in a while so I'm going to do that tomorrow.  I'll head to the "secret island" and anchor up for three days, walking the beach, reading and clearing my head.  I am needing the sanctuary of the boat and the beach.  Maybe not being out has been another source of my sadness.

And then there is my birthday coming up on Thursday.  Another year older is making me more mindful of diminishing time left.  I sincerely hope that if I live long enough to get old,  I will not be a burden on someone or having to eat gruel.  I simply want to die suddenly as my father did--take a nap and not wake up, or fall over on my bed as my mother did.  Done, caput, fini, end of story.  

I realize that this is a sad post, but I don't want to fake my feelings.  Yes, I am grateful for so much. I can list a dozen things for which I have gratitude.  But on these days when I feel sad, I need to sit with my feelings and let them work themselves out.  I can indulge in a bit of self pity for a couple of hours.  And then I'm going to take a shower, throw on some clothes, and head to my home group tonight.  No matter how far down I feel, I know that I will be cheered up by my friends there.  We all get through whatever is going on together. That's so much better than going it alone.

Making decisions

My wife is going to have to make some decisions about her mother who is back in the hospital.   Her mother is not eating much and not wanting to drink fluids.  She becomes dehydrated and needs to be hospitalized.  She weighs less than 90 pounds. Dementia has taken over to the extent that she doesn't know who we are and she makes no sense when talking.

We talked about what to do last night.The caregivers who live with her are not skilled nurses.  It appears that she qualifies for hospice care at this point. So C. is going to look into that after talking to the doctors.  We also talked about having her move to the same nursing home where C.'s dad is, so that they could share a room.  On the surface, it seems okay, but this option is one that has some concerns because we wonder whether the staff will spend time trying to get her to eat.  She seems beyond what a nursing home could do at this point.  And will she be okay being in a room with her husband who was so emotionally abusive to her for years?  I wonder about that.

Anyway, that is what we are struggling with today.  I am going to see her in the hospital as my wife is still sick from her cold.  The lingering of a person whose quality of life is poor is a sad thing to see.  Unfortunately, more and more people will be dealing with this as their parents age or they themselves age. The extreme elderly, those who are age 85 and over, are the fastest growing segment of the population. And more than 75 percent of Americans receiving long-term care rely solely on family and friends to provide assistance. It's pretty damn scary.

We both know that there will be a solution.  Making the decision for her best interest is what we want.

The lights are still up

It's traditional for us to take down the Christmas lights and tree on New Year's Day.  I will miss the lights and the tree, but I have to say that I'm glad Christmas is over.  It was relatively free of pain, except for Christmas day. 

On Christmas morning, we fixed a nice breakfast and my wife unwrapped her gifts.  I surprised her with a few things this year, even though we had agreed not to buy each other anything. I simply had to get her some things for her stocking and a few other odds and ends.  All of that was happy.  

The sad part came when we visited her parents.  Her mother didn't recognize either of us.  She talked a bit but was pretty much focused on not eating her lunch.  We didn't stay long.  Then we drove to the nursing home to visit C.'s dad.  He was in bed and wasn't feeling well.  So we left his presents there for him. 

No matter how hard I try, the expectation of Christmas day seems to get to me.  Both of us were sad about the parents.  We know that there is nothing that can be done, but it is still hard to see them in such decline.  On Christmas night, I felt so very sad.  

I thought about my parents who were married near Christmas.  And that my mother used to show me an old perfume bottle that held Nuit de Noel (Christmas Night) which was a gift from my father to her.  I had thoughts of my parents, missing them, and wondering what it is like to be over 90 years old, sick in body and demented as my wife's parents are.  And I wondered how I would get through hosting a party the next day.  

Even though the day after Christmas was rainy and windy,  both of us felt better as if the weight of previous day was past. By the afternoon, the rain had stopped,  and the day turned clear and sunny.  We had a great time at the party, enjoyed seeing others have a good time, and were happy for so many friends in recovery.  I think that filling the house with people is a good idea.  Their presence chases away the memories of past Christmases that this year seem too much.  

So on this eve of New Year's eve,  I feel content.  The lights are still up.  It's cold outside but a warm fire is burning in the house.   I have had a good weekend of reading and relaxing. I went to a couple of meetings, including an open AA speaker meeting.  I feel back in balance.  

One of the important things that I've learned in recovery is that if I feel sad, I can share it because someone out there will know exactly what I am talking about and will be feeling just as sad/lost/alone as I do.  The friends that I have now were strangers to me at one time.  Who knows what friends I will have tomorrow.   

December 10

Today is my father's birthday.  He was born in the big farm house on a snowy morning in Virginia. I talked to a very elderly lady many years ago who remembered how my father's elder sister ran across the fields to tell the neighbors of his birth. It was a happy occasion that a son was born. It gave me a lot of pleasure to hear about his birth from someone who had been there and seen him when he was a baby.

My father would share a lot of stories about growing up on the farm. He told me about getting up on cold mornings and running down the stairs to stand in front of the fire in the dining room to get dressed. He told me about mornings that he and his father would ride on horseback for several miles to meet up with other riders for fox hunting. He told me about hog killing time and curing of meat in the smoke house.

He lived in another time. He never forgot the community though and would go to visit old neighbors whenever he could. At Christmas, he would take gifts to those old timers that lived near his birthplace.

The farm was sold and the old farmhouse fell into disrepair. At least I have photos of it. And I did an oil painting of it when I was a teenager. I remember going in the farm house and seeing my father's room upstairs.  I wish that I had photographed it.  The house was empty then, with only the echoes from his past still present : His room just as he had lived in it as a child. I always thought that was sad and developed a feeling at that time that houses have souls too. I still believe that.

Most of the people that he grew up with have died. All of his siblings are dead.  One died from alcoholism. Her daughter died from the disease as well. I don't know what happened along the way in life for her or my father to have decided that drinking was a source of solace. It's a question that everyone asks who has an alcoholic relative. How did the child born in innocence become tainted by something so destructive?

Anyway, I guess all this rambling is to tell you that I still miss my dad. I would like for him to know that I'm thinking about him on his birthday. When I was a child, my mother and I would surprise him with presents and a home made card. After I was out of the home and married, my wife and I would take him presents. He seemed to always enjoy this special day.  I like to think that his spirit lives on in me.

Enjoying the day

I left to go on the boat this morning. We had our home-cooked turkey dinner on Sunday. And on Thursday, I'll be fixing a turkey feast on the boat, even if on a smaller scale.

This is our first Thanksgiving without my wife's parents being here with us. Her dad is in the nursing home. He is frail and can no longer walk. Her mom is living in their home with the two caregivers. So C. is going to visit both of them on Thanksgiving day. I have one of the Labradors with me. She and I will enjoy some beach walks and snoozing on the boat.

Not much new has been going on. I have been to my usual meetings, took in an open AA meeting, worked with those I sponsor, and have signed up for a class in Radar which will give me an endorsement for that on my Captain's license. Towboat work is slow now so I decided another course would be good.

We celebrate our wedding anniversary on Monday November 26. We were married in our twenties. Some days it seems long ago and others not so long at all. I know that we love each other a lot.

I'll leave you with a few photos from the day. Have a great Thanksgiving if you celebrate it.

The elephant is not invisible

A fellow blogger asked a question about the effects that alcoholism may have on her child. I can only relate what I experienced at an early age.

One of my earliest memories was of my father being brought home by the sheriff. He had been in a single car accident and broken his arm. There was no local hospital so the town doctor came to the house to set his arm. My father had been drinking and driving recklessly. I believe I knew at that moment that my dad had a problem, even though I was so young.

After that there were many other instances of his drinking. I felt each and every one and feared what would happen on his days off from work. It was as if a cloud hung over me. A cloud did hang over me, and it was called alcoholism. I wanted my father to be like how I saw other dads in the neighborhood--not angry, not morose, not slurring his words.

Although he was a functioning drinker and provided for us well, there was something about him that caused me to worry and made me ashamed. I became shy around others, minimized contact with him, wished that he would die, was ashamed to bring what friends I had home and developed a huge fear of failure by trying to be perfect.

I wanted order in my life. I thought that if I got great grades, made no trouble, and kept quiet around him that perhaps he would stop drinking. The tendrils of alcoholism had already wrapped around me as a child, shaping who I was to become later in life.

I wish that my mother had talked to me and explained what was going on. She was in denial about his problem. I think that if there had been one person I could have talked to about my fears, it would have helped. Instead, the fears were those I faced alone.

If you have a child who is around an alcoholic or addict, be assured that they do know something is "wrong". Talking to your child about alcoholism, offering reassurances, perhaps even counseling can help. Doing nothing and hoping that the elephant in the room is invisible is the worst thing and will hurt all involved.

Of gardens and storms

Squash blossom

Things have been going along well here.  Both of us have been enjoying the overcast weather.  Yesterday, we dug potatoes from the garden, harvesting a 5 gallon bucket full. We talked about what to make with so many potatoes: soup, home fries,  mashers--all things that we rarely eat. I suspect that friends will be getting baskets of potatoes for a while.

The garden is verdant with more vegetables ripening.  The flower beds are filled with color.  The smell of gardenias, roses and the Confederate jessamine is heady.  I took some photos this morning of the gardens.

A profusion of gardenias blooming

Blueberries on the bush

Many tomato plants staked

One of several flower beds

The deck with roses and hibiscus

Flower bed with coleus, yarrow, cleomes,  and many other plants

Walkway to the front door

Basil rows

Confederate jessamine on an old oak tree. 

We went to my mother-in-laws birthday party on Monday.  She is 90 years old.  The care givers had gotten balloons, cupcakes, and flowers.  We brought a couple of salads and pizza.  The neighbors came over, and everyone, including the MIL, had a nice time.

She enjoyed all her gifts and made a lot of funny quips.  Her humor hasn't left her, even though she often gets confused.  For her birthday, she seemed fairly sharp which was good.  By 2 PM, she was exhausted and had to be helped to bed for a nap.

Today, I'm visiting my father-in-law.  He is holding his own but can no longer walk much so he moves along with the wheel chair.  His mind is still sharp.  I think that he is resigned to being at the nursing home now.  We see him three to four days a week.  I think that he really only wants to see his wife who often doesn't know who he is.  She thinks that I am her husband at times which either makes my wife laugh or cry depending on her mood.

More thunderstorms are expected this afternoon.  I think that I'll go sit on the boat later and watch the storms come in.  There is nothing like a southern thunderstorm.

"During the summer it rains almost every afternoon........ From my gallery, around three o’clock, you could watch the clouds build as high and dark as mountains......, then within minutes the barometer would drop, the air would suddenly turn cool and smell like ozone and gunmetal and fish spawning, the wind would begin to blow out of the south and straighten the moss on the dead cypress trees in the marsh, bend the cattails......, and swell and ruffle the pecan trees in my front yard; then a sheet of grey rain would move out of the marsh…and ring as loud on my gallery as marbles bouncing on corrugated tin.” ~James Lee Burke

Keeping my mouth shut

I went to visit my father-in-law yesterday.  He was confused,  not making much sense when I was talking with him.  Until yesterday, all his days in the nursing home had been good.  He had walked around the halls, gone to the physical rehab gym, read magazines, and talked with the staff.  Yesterday, he wasn't coherent and was in bed.

The confusion may be relating to the levels of ammonia building up in his brain.  So he is being given lactulose to try and remedy that condition.  Cirrhosis of the liver inhibits removal of ammonia, a byproduct of protein breakdown, which then builds up and causes confusion.

My wife has not gone to see her father yet.  She says that she simply isn't ready to see him.   Today she flew to DC to pick up a lifetime achievement award for her scientific work.  I talked to her a few minutes ago, and she said that it was a nice ceremony.  I know that she needed this break for just a couple of days to see colleagues, friends, and former students.  She also said that she wants to see her dad when she gets back.  I think that will be a good idea. 

I know that each of us has to deal with uncomfortable situations in our own time.  I know that I want her to visit her dad.  But I won't tell her what to do.   I would like for her to have a sponsor.  I feel strongly that having a sponsor is important in recovery.  But how she works her program is not my business. 

It's good that I have learned to keep my mouth shut, even when sometimes I have to bite my tongue hard.  It is so tempting to direct the lives of others. Allowing her to make the choices that she wants without interference from me keeps us on good terms with each other.  It allows her to figure out what works without my interference.  And that makes life a lot easier. 

"Life is fraught with opportunities to keep your mouth shut". ~Winston S. Churchill

What money can't buy

Today, my father-in-law is supposed to be discharged from the hospital.  He is going to a nursing home where he will have a private room.  None of us, including the doctors and social worker, think that he should come home.  This is reality, but it is still difficult.

Yesterday, we put together clothes for him.  The clothes included the new ones that he got for Christmas.  It was just a little over a month ago that he was here, opening his presents, having a good meal, and sharing Christmas with us.  He seemed happy.  We added his new robe to the pile of clothes--the one that he got for his birthday on January 15.  Something happened between the time we gave him these things and now.

I talked to a lady after the meeting last night.  She said that her father went crazy after recent surgery, hitting his son, spitting on her, screaming and throwing things.  He is now in restraints and is wearing a face mask at a local hospital.  She said, "This isn't my dad. What happened?".  I don't know really.  What I think is that parts of the brain are dying, and the circuitry that is left isn't really enough to sustain what used to be a sociable person.

I have learned that money talks in all of this. It is all about money.  The nursing home manager wanted to know whether there was enough money for him to have a private room and for his wife to have her 24 hour a day caregivers at home.  Is this something that is any of her business?  I don't know.  I simply said "Yes.".  She was sure there was a great room for him then.

The bank manager was suspicious of my wife when she went to inquire about how much her dad had withdrawn when he escaped with the car the other afternoon.  She was told that he did not want her to have access to any of his accounts.  C. said she felt like a criminal but bravely produced the durable POA.  The bank manager then asked her a lot of questions about what happened and how he seemed so nice the other afternoon, just before he came home and went crazy.  None of her business, but C. answered as best she could: "I don't know really. He just went berserk. Maybe dementia or Alzheimer's. We don't know."

We left the bank knowing that we had to find the money he withdrew and deposit it back in the bank.  Eventually, we found it--a fat stack of $100 dollar bills.  What was he planning to do with it?  It was enough to pay for one month in the nursing home or go on a nice cruise to the Mediterranean.  I don't know.

There is so much that we don't know right now.  What we do know is that he will be in a safe place, have a nice room, be well taken care of, have clothes and food.  But he won't be with his family.  Money can't buy that.

A brand new day

Over the last 24 hours, I have come to a much better place in my head--a place of forgiveness for me and for my father-in-law.  I talked to my sponsor,  I talked to my Higher Power, I read your comments and emails.  TAAAF over at Through an Al-Anon Filter wrote the following to me:

"I've been in that place of being appalled at my own "reptilian reaction" and it was excruciating; I'd really thought I was getting somewhere in my recovery.

I'm grateful for my first sponsor, who reiterated enough times for me to hear her, that I was only human, and the reason we have Step 10 is because we are going to continue to be wrong. No way around it. We may have only a few years in 12-Step, we may have 25, but we are going to screw up. Regularly. At times, spectacularly.

 

When we lose control, we may feel shame, or unworthy, embarrassed, humiliated, depressed. Perhaps we begin to wonder whether our perceived recovery is all a smoke screen we're hiding behind, and we haven't really changed at all - all perfectly normal responses to that rush of rage, and however we acted while in its grip.

 

You're a good man who loves his mate, and she was being threatened - that bypasses all the civilized veneers, and taps into the primal self.

 

Examine it, take your own inventory, make an amend however you choose to do so, and after discussion with your sponsor, then move on. You are not one scrap less of a wonderful loving and good-hearted man now, than you were the second before your response. You're the very same man, who has learned something new about himself."

 

Yes, I have learned something about myself, although I knew the survival and self-defense mechanisms were there already.  Another comment led me to read about elder rage (thank you, Lena, for suggesting the book--it has been ordered).  I have a much better understanding of the Jekyll and Hyde personality changes that we have been seeing.  Hopefully, more will be revealed from evaluations by geriatric psychiatrists and the internal medicine doctors.

I do have flashbacks of what happened.  I am forcing the images out of my head, but they aren't gone. And I am grieving the change in, and perhaps loss of,  a relationship that I have had for a long time.  But I am not blaming myself.  My wife feels better as well, after reading your comments and information about elder rage.  Neither of us has experience in dealing with a situation like this.  We are learning, have the legal system backing us, have talked with DSS, and know that we are doing the best that we can to protect both of the parents and keep them comfortable.

The best thing is that my mother-in-law was playing cards and listening to jazz yesterday.  She was happy and having a good day in her little world.  No one was yelling at her.  We each deserve peace in our lives no matter how it is achieved.

Finding a voice

This city is filled with so many people.  Even the grocery store was packed.  And people are honking horns and driving like maniacs.  This country boy cannot wait to get back to the island.

There are a lot of boats here--big ones that speak of lots of money.  This is a wealthy city by many standards.  But I know that there are other areas where things aren't so great--just a few blocks from the big houses and big marinas.  I know that I would not like to live here.

I found an Al-Anon meeting last night.  It was one that was behind a gate in an upscale housing community.  I drove back and forth trying to find it, finally stopping at a gas station where I asked a policeman who was buying a carton of cigarettes.  He told me how to get there--it was a turn next to the gas station into the housing development.  I looked for the church steeple and made my way to where I saw cars parked and the Welcome Al-Anon sign on the door.

I walked in to a group of five people who warmly welcomed me.  It was about one minute before the meeting started. When I told them that I had difficulty finding the meeting place, the chair person said, "Well, we were waiting for you."  That is a great welcome to a person you have not met.  And just like that, it was a meeting of people who shared about how to let go when someone in your life is drinking their's away.

Several shared that they had children who were active alcoholics.  Slob living conditions, no job, asking for money--that seemed to be the common thread for parents who were trying to give love but not support the many demands of the alcoholic.  One lady said that she would send her brother a gift card for a food in a grocery store but worried that he would buy wine instead of food.  Another mother shared that she did not like to visit her son because he lived in an abysmal place, never cleaned it, and played on her sympathy to get money from her.

I thought about several bloggers who are trying to find a balance between love and enabling.  I do believe that each of us has a higher power.  The alcoholic who is destitute and hurting has a higher power, just as I do.  I think that at some point,  the realization that no other human can make me feel better, was the most important thing that turned me towards a spiritual solution.  I have no answers for others.  I am not in their situation with children who are killing themselves with alcohol.  But I can see that it is no easy thing to have your heart being torn from you while saying, "No, I will not send you money."

I am going to another meeting tonight.  No matter where I go, the stories are the same.  And in this city, it would seem that there are so many more people out there who haven't yet found a voice to tell theirs.

Christmas Eve

I wanted to share some happy moments from this Christmas Eve.  Wishing you much love and joy with your family.  No matter what the expectations are, the day is about love and caring, just as I would like every day to be.  Let's make it so.

Waiting for the parents to arrive. 

The tree and a few presents for each of us. 

C.'s mom looking cheerful.  She seemed to enjoy it all! 

Pop opening his gifts. 

The dining room ready for lunch.  

Brad and Jessica sharing a kiss under the mistletoe.  They are such a great couple! They have a wonderful sense of humor and take such good care of C.'s parents. 

Brad modeling a nightshirt that Mom got as a gift.  

Jessica modeling some new workout clothes that we gave Pop.  

We were so glad that the parents and Brad and Jess made it over.  It was the only present that we wanted.

From us to you--wishing you peace and love this Christmas and may every day be filled with those most important of gifts.

A new attitude

Okay, here is what we are going to do.  We are flying to Texas to eat with Pam and then hopping on a jet to get to Kitty's for the late evening party!

Seriously, thanks for the comments on yesterday's post.  If I were entirely without feelings and longings,  I would not be alive.  The good thing is that I have learned to move beyond the "what ifs" to the "what is", given enough time to reflect. So, we do have a solution that doesn't involve air travel, although it would be fun to have a Blogger friends get together.

Last evening, we had a "summit" meeting with the new caregivers, Brad and Jessica, the parents, and Karin and Elias who are leaving next Tuesday.  We got the transitional stuff figured out about medications and doctor's visits.  We also discussed what to do about Thanksgiving.  We are cooking the mid-day meal and taking it over to the parents house and will have it there with Brad, Jessica and the parents.  After that, we will travel to visit our friends for the evening meal.

The new caregivers are in their thirties and bursting with joy.  Both have devoted years to service through Ameri-Corps and work at the homeless shelter downtown. Brad will still keep his job at the shelter where he does volunteer coordination.  So it will be good to spend part of the day with them because they are also now part of the family. Their enthusiasm is healthy.

Sometime during the day yesterday,  I regained joy and gratitude about the holidays.  And I realize that the day, any day, is what I make it.  It doesn't have to be about what it used to be, but what it is on this day.  Today I am making it a happy one.

I also wanted to share a photo of the latest addition to the animal family here.  This is Raggs who is one affectionate cat.  He wants to be picked up and held all the time so it was hard to get a photo of him not trying to crawl up my pants leg.  He finally decided to do a cute pose.

With the animals around, bread baking in the kitchen, a fire going, and a beautiful crisp day, it is easy to smile and be grateful.

Fitting together

Tonight, I drove out to the country to my home group meeting.  There were only three of us, but it doesn't matter because we seem to have plenty to talk about. Tonight a lady shared about her progress of being able to go to an annual party with her alcoholic husband and have a decent time without a lot of anxiety about his drinking.  She was amazed that she could get through the evening without feeling embarrassed.

I don't know that I could get through an evening like the ones we used to have at parties.  Al-Anon says that I can be happy whether the alcoholic is drinking or not.  Somehow the happiness eludes me when someone I love is drunk and making an ass of themselves.  Maybe it's because I was totally sober.  My solution for big parties where there is a lot of drinking is to not go.  Or if I go, to leave when I start to feel uncomfortable.  The choices I have put me at ease now.  It's good to know that I don't have to feel bound to do something out of some kind of co-dependent obligation.

After just a few days of talking and emailing caregivers for the parents, we were able to find a wonderful couple who have accepted the position.  They are enthusiastic,  capable and up for the challenge.  All the concerns that we both had about finding someone weren't necessary.  Amazing how things fall into place.  As my sponsor would say, "The Higher Power likes to show off from time to time."

Tomorrow, we are going out on the water for another day of fishing.  The weather is supposed to be beautiful.  The moon was rising as I was driving home.  It must be the harvest moon because it was huge in the sky.  We are in the midst of a pretty time of year here.  The trees are colorful, the nights are cool, and the days are warm and sunny.  The tourists have mostly gone home so the beaches and waterways aren't crowded.

Today all seems to fit together in a way that feels good.

Anxiety is love's greatest killer. It makes others feel as you might when a drowning man holds on to you. You want to save him, but you know he will strangle you with his panic. ~Anais Nin

Fishing photos and update

We had a good day fishing.  It was therapeutic to get out on the water and enjoy a warm day, beautiful scenery, and some seafood.  Here are some photos from our day:

The Sea Island Yacht Club where we launched the boat. An old building and an old club.  

A spot-tail bass that was the object of the day.  We catch and release. 

The fishing "hole" where the spot tails like to feed on the dropping tide. 

An eagle's nest--look for it near the middle of the photo.  

The clamming creek where on low tide we can rake up quite a few. 

Raking for clams which was productive!

Our clam take for the day.  These went into linguine with clam sauce. 

I feel as if I haven't had much to write about lately, except living life on life's terms.  That is a benefit of recovery--not fighting what comes but doing my best to accept and take positive action.  Here are some things that I have been doing:

--Contacting people for the caregiver position.  This is proving to be more difficult than I thought.  Good pay, a comfortable house, all expenses paid--I thought that there would be more people applying.  I was naive because it seems that there is much demand for caregivers.  And this is likely to be a field that only increases as we all age.  We have a couple of people that we are interviewing tomorrow.

--Working on the boat which will likely take 2-3 more weeks before going to haul out at the boat yard.  Lots of priming and filling.  But she is looking good.

--Going to meetings and meeting with those I sponsor.  I find that I can expunge the drama of life by going to a meeting.  I feel the weight lifted.  I am among others who live with drama every day, and somehow, we manage to feel a bit lighter after being together for an hour.  This never ceases to amaze me.

--Walking with the dogs in the morning.  We do about a mile together before any of us have breakfast.  They love it, and we get some time to enjoy the property and look for animal tracks.

What I haven't been doing is getting around to all the blogs that I like to read.  I will catch up at some point.  I have literally felt overwhelmed with the caregiver situation.  But I can see that creativity in thinking--split shifts and other ways to get coverage 24/7--is helping.  All will be okay.

Have a good day.  And if you are a veteran, thanks for what you have done.