My sister Anne has been egging me on to write this story- tonight she gave me another nudge.There is nothing sad about this story though, with my dad's recent passing. The reason she wants me to write it is because of something comical that happened at his graveside. I believe with all my heart that if you cannot have a good laugh about things, even during the most serious incidents sometimes- it's just stress relief, and this is one of those times.
After the Memorial Service at the Church, we made our way to the Cemetery where my dads ashes were buried( My mom wanted to do in the Catholic tradition.) As we sat down for the short service, a priest from the Church spoke for a few minutes. Then a Parishoner jumped up ( who my kids had previously named "Grandpas Biggest Fan") for other reasons back at the Church, broke out singing- with no ones prompting of "Oh My Papa." Now a couple of things are interesting about this. One- my dad used to love this song. There's no way this fellow knew this, other than the fact that we are Italian. Second, he knows about five verses, as his voice gets louder and more boisterous with every word, droning on and on. I couldn't look at anyone or I would have burst out laughing- very loud and out of control. So I chose to look straight inside his large, gaping mouth. It was open so big and wide, I thought I had gotten lost inside Moby Dick. I couldn't look at particular faces, especially anyone in my family.
At no time did anyone, including my mother ask him to sing, or did he ask anyone in my family if we wanted "The Concert." I think that is what made it so funny. He was just giving his free Concert Summer Series. As if the Summer Concert Series were to come to an abrupt end....he broke into"O Sole Mio" right in my mom's face. He was really ramped up by now, not ready for the Concert to end. He took that song for so many twists, turns and verses..... it seemed we were all in a time warp by the end, and made our getaway. He couldn't have been more jacked up. In all fairness he is a very sweet man, who was singing from his heart. It just was so surprising and truly unexpected!
When we got back to the Church Hall, he was kind enough to serenade my mom and her table with some lively Broadway ShowTunes. I didn't get a look at her face. My dad was definitely having a good time watching the show.
Sunday, August 19, 2012
Thursday, August 9, 2012
The Ride
Today is my son's birthday, and I think it is the most relaxed I have seen him. We take Birthdays with great care for each other, wanting the sweetest, or outrageously fun experience - whichever way it swings for the individual. Seeing Matt feel like he could finally breathe- just do his own thing today made my heart sing. No more rules..... just what feels right. We have come a long way from being "careful," not wanting to offend, tiptoeing through the years- finally being able to say, " I love you but get the hell away from me." Everyone in the family saying they have PMS. That is the biggest gift for polite-nics. Saying how it is without fear of repercussion.
Growing up in a severely restricted household, then passing it on to the family you have created takes work to un-do.
Matt was born two days before my birthday, Katie on Father's Day. Our kids knew when to time their births, filling our hearts to overflowing. It has been a very emotion couple of weeks leading up to our birthdays. Five days ago we buried my dad. I have heard my husband say so often - the circle of life continues on. I never really understood what he meant. I do now more than ever.There have been so many deaths of friends loved ones in the past few months, few years. I have watched, listened, absorbed peoples thoughts, feelings, words, tributes, grief, love, frustration, aloneness, loss, exhaustion, process, healing, acceptance, remembrance.
Ray lost both of his parents at thirty five. I was over seven months pregnant with Katie when he lost his Mom. Only this week can I comprehend the sheer aloneness he experienced through it all. My heart took in fully the enormity of it all. No matter what stage you are at with a parent, grief can jolt your heart, ripping through your very being, while awaiting rebirth- to the new life awaiting you. It is not done until it is done.
We were like two boats rowing in a river of loss barely getting through. Saying goodbye to one life,while awaiting the birth of a new one. We couldn't be further apart, not from lack of love, just where our heads and hearts were. Neither had the strength or capacity to enter each others worlds. Children became mine while I could not comprehend the depths of despair my husband had stepped into. Pure loss. I do now. If I could go back, but it doesn't work that way. It is the compassion, empathy, the in-betweens when he needed me. To just hold him, listen, love him. Have patience -not let my anger, my relationship with his mother...simply allow him to grieve.
I'm not sure what this story is about : birthdays, death, birth, or just forgiveness, maybe love.
All of the above. This is what I know.... today is my son's birthday and it is a peaceful day. I am so grateful for all the love in this home, in my heart right now. Happy Birthday my sweet Matt. I love this man, my husband- who has given me Matt and Katie- who I love like crazy. We have had a roller coaster ride of life together- that I would not change for anything. It's just life, being willing to take the ride, never knowing where you will end up. I love being on the ride with Raym. No one is more fun and makes me laugh as much. It's time to go on another ride, I am ready for The Carousel. Softer and gentler is my speed right now.
Growing up in a severely restricted household, then passing it on to the family you have created takes work to un-do.
Matt was born two days before my birthday, Katie on Father's Day. Our kids knew when to time their births, filling our hearts to overflowing. It has been a very emotion couple of weeks leading up to our birthdays. Five days ago we buried my dad. I have heard my husband say so often - the circle of life continues on. I never really understood what he meant. I do now more than ever.There have been so many deaths of friends loved ones in the past few months, few years. I have watched, listened, absorbed peoples thoughts, feelings, words, tributes, grief, love, frustration, aloneness, loss, exhaustion, process, healing, acceptance, remembrance.
Ray lost both of his parents at thirty five. I was over seven months pregnant with Katie when he lost his Mom. Only this week can I comprehend the sheer aloneness he experienced through it all. My heart took in fully the enormity of it all. No matter what stage you are at with a parent, grief can jolt your heart, ripping through your very being, while awaiting rebirth- to the new life awaiting you. It is not done until it is done.
We were like two boats rowing in a river of loss barely getting through. Saying goodbye to one life,while awaiting the birth of a new one. We couldn't be further apart, not from lack of love, just where our heads and hearts were. Neither had the strength or capacity to enter each others worlds. Children became mine while I could not comprehend the depths of despair my husband had stepped into. Pure loss. I do now. If I could go back, but it doesn't work that way. It is the compassion, empathy, the in-betweens when he needed me. To just hold him, listen, love him. Have patience -not let my anger, my relationship with his mother...simply allow him to grieve.
I'm not sure what this story is about : birthdays, death, birth, or just forgiveness, maybe love.
All of the above. This is what I know.... today is my son's birthday and it is a peaceful day. I am so grateful for all the love in this home, in my heart right now. Happy Birthday my sweet Matt. I love this man, my husband- who has given me Matt and Katie- who I love like crazy. We have had a roller coaster ride of life together- that I would not change for anything. It's just life, being willing to take the ride, never knowing where you will end up. I love being on the ride with Raym. No one is more fun and makes me laugh as much. It's time to go on another ride, I am ready for The Carousel. Softer and gentler is my speed right now.
Monday, August 6, 2012
The Gift
I am sitting here listening to The Carpenter's on my son's record player. They are my brother's records, and I am lost somewhere in time between the 70's and now. My heart is hurting, but not down and out-just split wide open. It hurts because there is fresh air hitting it, and I cannot identify this feeling. It also hurts because I lost something that I could never have in the first place- until it left.That is the fresh air hitting it.... it is all for such a good purpose, but such an indescribable pain, I could not and would not have had it here, ever in this lifetime with my dad. We just didn't connect very often in that way. We had our moments, but I had my expectations.... and he had his.We both were sorely disappointed and fell short.
The thing about being a writer like any other creative.... it is how we express ourselves. It doesn't stop when someone dies or tragedy strikes, at least it kicks in for me even more. I write more when I am severely bummed out. Never was one of those happy writers. I could write for hours about the endless oceans waves of darkness and abyss rolling me out to sea. My hubby will laugh heartily about that. I think he has memorized that charmer. Even in my darkest hours, he would quote me on the abyss of my soul. I have many of those stories handwritten in a box.
I am no longer at that stage of the abyss, I am just realizing life's interesting timing. Anyone who has sat with someone who is in the the hospital or ill- sometimes time seems to take forever, when really it is just a couple of weeks. You are in this time warp and have no capacity to understand you can never get any of these moments back. I have heard it over and over- but I didn't understand it. It was tiring, confusing, doctors telling us one thing, a new crew telling us another. My dad was made of steel, outlasting everyone and everything. Even with poor health, he wasn't going anywhere.The doctors said it was a miracle he was alive at all. He nearly lost all his blood at home, then was brought into Emergency and had a heart attack ( which apparently was the least of his problems.)
Something profound is happening, I cannot put into words without making them sound garbled. I feel him in the purest form. No anger, no frustration, no disappointment, just love. Something I never fully experienced while he was living - in this form.
I knew he loved me, in his way. He carried so much pain, physical and emotional, that it was hard for him to reach out to anyone. He had his place in the kitchen, day after day, night after night.
The radio was his best friend.... the window with the curtain pulled back was his view of the world.
Every once in a blue moon he would venture out with his friend for coffee.
His world was the kitchen and his bedroom, where he slept in a chair the past four years - because he struggled breathing. He had been hooked up to oxygen the past ten years. I think had he been 'Joe Schmo' down the street my patience, compassion, so many things would have kicked in more, it did sporadically. Reading this after I have just written it- I would judge me as a terrible daughter. I can only speak the truth of what happened and what needs to heal. Depression that was never talked about ran so deep. I weep for him had he been helped, really loved through it he may have had a different life. Unfortunately I inherited those genes that were never "talked" about. Having to watch a father who could not move at times, completely paralyzed by anxiety, depression, life.
Pretending doesn't skip a beat in their house even with his passing, perhaps even more so now.This is where I am changing.... or the gift my dad is giving me now. Be myself all the way through. I am turning fifty one Saturday. When is enough - enough? I realize in many a household this dysfunction continues.... I have fought so hard to heal it in my own. I need to let it go in every part of my life.Talking about these unpopular things that we have had to keep in the dark, such as depression. Why do you think people stay depressed - staying in the dark.
The only way I have found to heal.... telling the truth. Feeling my feelings.
Allowing my pain to come out, as well as my joy. Letting go of what was never mine.
Filling up the well. Letting love in. Not complicated stuff. Maybe that is why I feel my dad around me right now so much- the best birthday gift to me. What I have always wanted. His love.
The thing about being a writer like any other creative.... it is how we express ourselves. It doesn't stop when someone dies or tragedy strikes, at least it kicks in for me even more. I write more when I am severely bummed out. Never was one of those happy writers. I could write for hours about the endless oceans waves of darkness and abyss rolling me out to sea. My hubby will laugh heartily about that. I think he has memorized that charmer. Even in my darkest hours, he would quote me on the abyss of my soul. I have many of those stories handwritten in a box.
I am no longer at that stage of the abyss, I am just realizing life's interesting timing. Anyone who has sat with someone who is in the the hospital or ill- sometimes time seems to take forever, when really it is just a couple of weeks. You are in this time warp and have no capacity to understand you can never get any of these moments back. I have heard it over and over- but I didn't understand it. It was tiring, confusing, doctors telling us one thing, a new crew telling us another. My dad was made of steel, outlasting everyone and everything. Even with poor health, he wasn't going anywhere.The doctors said it was a miracle he was alive at all. He nearly lost all his blood at home, then was brought into Emergency and had a heart attack ( which apparently was the least of his problems.)
Something profound is happening, I cannot put into words without making them sound garbled. I feel him in the purest form. No anger, no frustration, no disappointment, just love. Something I never fully experienced while he was living - in this form.
I knew he loved me, in his way. He carried so much pain, physical and emotional, that it was hard for him to reach out to anyone. He had his place in the kitchen, day after day, night after night.
The radio was his best friend.... the window with the curtain pulled back was his view of the world.
Every once in a blue moon he would venture out with his friend for coffee.
His world was the kitchen and his bedroom, where he slept in a chair the past four years - because he struggled breathing. He had been hooked up to oxygen the past ten years. I think had he been 'Joe Schmo' down the street my patience, compassion, so many things would have kicked in more, it did sporadically. Reading this after I have just written it- I would judge me as a terrible daughter. I can only speak the truth of what happened and what needs to heal. Depression that was never talked about ran so deep. I weep for him had he been helped, really loved through it he may have had a different life. Unfortunately I inherited those genes that were never "talked" about. Having to watch a father who could not move at times, completely paralyzed by anxiety, depression, life.
Pretending doesn't skip a beat in their house even with his passing, perhaps even more so now.This is where I am changing.... or the gift my dad is giving me now. Be myself all the way through. I am turning fifty one Saturday. When is enough - enough? I realize in many a household this dysfunction continues.... I have fought so hard to heal it in my own. I need to let it go in every part of my life.Talking about these unpopular things that we have had to keep in the dark, such as depression. Why do you think people stay depressed - staying in the dark.
The only way I have found to heal.... telling the truth. Feeling my feelings.
Allowing my pain to come out, as well as my joy. Letting go of what was never mine.
Filling up the well. Letting love in. Not complicated stuff. Maybe that is why I feel my dad around me right now so much- the best birthday gift to me. What I have always wanted. His love.
Say Hello For Me
I am like a child on Christmas Day wanting to cram in so much writing. Not that my feelings are bubbly, frothy and overjoyed- they aren't and don't need to be. They are pure, raw and mine.Undiluted, to the point and flowing- a writers dream. My heart is not blocked and heavy by others points-of-view, judgement, rationale, punishment, burden. For the very first time I am in my own head enough just to let my thoughts flow freely and stand in my own truth.
My heart cracked open in a new way yesterday, it has over the past month and hasn't stopped. Saturday was the Memorial Mass. It was beautiful, a family friend said the Mass, and knowing our big Italian family for well over thirty years, how chaotic we were - and of course it was all about the food. Loud people and food. But a very nice tribute to my dad as well.
Listening to my oldest brother give the Eulogy, I learned so much about my Dad through my brothers eyes.The girls were our mothers / the boys were our dad's. Lines were drawn so many years ago, now it was time sitting in this Church to decide for myself, what did I choose, what did I believe? How did I feel? Was it time to let go and decide for myself through my eyes, as my fathers daughter.
The little girl whose life depended on him at three years old in Children's Hospital, when doctors told my parents I wouldn't make it through the night, laying so ill with pneumonia.
He wouldn't leave my side for two weeks. I would cry even when he left for bathroom breaks.
I remember every moment. As my father lay dying in the hospital, he said to me, " Clare, do you remember that little girl?" I immediately burst into tears. I was three years old, yet I remembered then as I do in this moment that little girl. I was in a ward, with many sick children at Children's Hospital. That little girl had leukemia and was dying. Her parents had abandoned her, and my dad ( I'm sure it was unbearable for him to see her alone and dying) would go over to her crib, hold her, trying to comfort her. In all my three year old fear, wanting only my father, would get very upset. I never understood what he felt as he said through the years, "Clare, do you remember that little girl." Of course I remembered her, she took my dad away. How could I have possibly understood at that age anything else? I understand now. Dad, I told you it was your turn, I wouldn't leave you. I kept my promise.
We got so far away from that through the years- really far. I was so happy to have the opportunity for forgiveness with each other. Time to sit together even when you weren't conscious and just be. The greatest gift for me was bringing you back to the place I was most comfortable with -Hospice. Sitting in that room, like I had with so many others- it was different this time though. It was you, now the rules were different. I comforted, supported, held many hands- but I didn't know what it really felt like. I was simply an observer who cared deeply. I knew because of Grandma.... but with your own parent suddenly it became much more real, and felt very different. It hurt different.
Yesterday I felt you with me, through songs in the store, everywhere. Saying the same thing. Let go. It is all the same message- forgiveness and love. I am listening in my dreams - I hear you, feel you. It was impossible in life to have this- too much water between us. I have always loved the song "The Water Is Wide." Perhaps that is how I will think of you now. I know you are at peace, I finally feel it. I am sorry you have suffered so much in this life. I wish I could have known you dad.... really known the man you wanted to be. I think now we have a really great beginning- now you can be the father you always wanted to be, and me the daughter. Say hello to that little girl from Children's Hospital for me dad. I did get the best part of you- I just didn't know it until now.
My heart cracked open in a new way yesterday, it has over the past month and hasn't stopped. Saturday was the Memorial Mass. It was beautiful, a family friend said the Mass, and knowing our big Italian family for well over thirty years, how chaotic we were - and of course it was all about the food. Loud people and food. But a very nice tribute to my dad as well.
Listening to my oldest brother give the Eulogy, I learned so much about my Dad through my brothers eyes.The girls were our mothers / the boys were our dad's. Lines were drawn so many years ago, now it was time sitting in this Church to decide for myself, what did I choose, what did I believe? How did I feel? Was it time to let go and decide for myself through my eyes, as my fathers daughter.
The little girl whose life depended on him at three years old in Children's Hospital, when doctors told my parents I wouldn't make it through the night, laying so ill with pneumonia.
He wouldn't leave my side for two weeks. I would cry even when he left for bathroom breaks.
I remember every moment. As my father lay dying in the hospital, he said to me, " Clare, do you remember that little girl?" I immediately burst into tears. I was three years old, yet I remembered then as I do in this moment that little girl. I was in a ward, with many sick children at Children's Hospital. That little girl had leukemia and was dying. Her parents had abandoned her, and my dad ( I'm sure it was unbearable for him to see her alone and dying) would go over to her crib, hold her, trying to comfort her. In all my three year old fear, wanting only my father, would get very upset. I never understood what he felt as he said through the years, "Clare, do you remember that little girl." Of course I remembered her, she took my dad away. How could I have possibly understood at that age anything else? I understand now. Dad, I told you it was your turn, I wouldn't leave you. I kept my promise.
We got so far away from that through the years- really far. I was so happy to have the opportunity for forgiveness with each other. Time to sit together even when you weren't conscious and just be. The greatest gift for me was bringing you back to the place I was most comfortable with -Hospice. Sitting in that room, like I had with so many others- it was different this time though. It was you, now the rules were different. I comforted, supported, held many hands- but I didn't know what it really felt like. I was simply an observer who cared deeply. I knew because of Grandma.... but with your own parent suddenly it became much more real, and felt very different. It hurt different.
Yesterday I felt you with me, through songs in the store, everywhere. Saying the same thing. Let go. It is all the same message- forgiveness and love. I am listening in my dreams - I hear you, feel you. It was impossible in life to have this- too much water between us. I have always loved the song "The Water Is Wide." Perhaps that is how I will think of you now. I know you are at peace, I finally feel it. I am sorry you have suffered so much in this life. I wish I could have known you dad.... really known the man you wanted to be. I think now we have a really great beginning- now you can be the father you always wanted to be, and me the daughter. Say hello to that little girl from Children's Hospital for me dad. I did get the best part of you- I just didn't know it until now.
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