Pondering the world

Mom--your Mother's Day card will be late. Again.

Mom, I found a lovely card for you, and it's in the mail.  But it will arrive late, as always.

It's not that I don't think of you as your birthday or other special occasion approaches.  I have lots of time for the thinking part.  But I'm always doing something else at the same time and just don't take that couple of minutes to stop, grab a card from my stash, address it and get it in the mail.  And sometimes I don't have the right card to send.

Maybe one of your other children is better at this than I am--my sister, most likely.  Perhaps she has a life a little more in control than mine, a little more predictable or better regulated.  Maybe she's better at watching the calendar and writing things down.  My calendar is still on April.

Even though I may not be the most diligent of offspring, my life is never dull, and I like to believe that's what you would wish for me.

Happy Mother's Day.

my daughter, the Tool Princess

When I was the office manager for a small start-up company about 10 years ago, I was also the person in charge of some of the building maintenance, including changing light bulbs and installing white boards.  It was a rather interesting role reversal as the male software engineers watched me using a stud finder, drill, level, and other tools.  My nickname became "the Tool Queen."

You know that old expression, "the apple doesn't fall far from the tree?"  In that respect, our daughter turned out a lot like me.  Her fashion of choice in high school was jeans, a sweatshirt or t-shirt, and boots.  She carried a Gerber multi-tool and people always came to her when something needed to be fixed.

For her birthday last week, her husband's family gave her an edger.  They recently moved from an apartment into their first house and need all kinds of garden equipment and tools.

When she told me about it, I laughed and called her "the Tool Princess."  She's a chip right off the old block.

Christmas letter results in cousin contact after 38 years

Sending out Christmas cards and letters is an interesting process, at least for me.  

The first step is updating my address book.  And what I have is not a "book" but an Excel document that I can then convert to a Word table to use as a mail merge to create mailing labels...  At least, that's how it started when I needed a way to send out change of address cards to everyone quickly.  I also have contact information in Outlook.  So I had to make sure those were correct and update one to the other.  That was actually the most difficult part of the whole process, and it took me about three days working diligently between other chores.

The "annual" letter took me about 15 minutes to write.  

I hand-addressed my Christmas cards this year, and it reminded me why I never do that.  That was about 67 envelopes, not counting the Christmas cards I sent out by email to those for whom I have an email address.

But the most interesting thing is that when I hand-address the envelopes, even though they only take about one minute each, I'm thinking about the person to whom I'm sending it.  And sometimes I think longer about them.  And sometimes I add a note in the margin of the letter.

I wonder who has moved in the 11 years since the last time I sent out our "annual" letter.  Who am I losing contact with because their email address has changed?  Some people have even died since the last time, but they were still in my address book.  I think of them just the same as I delete their entry from my address book.  Will I be able to find the favorite cousin whose email came back, whose wife I heard was very ill, who I heard sold their house, who no one seems to know where they are?  I sent out those 67 letters last week wondering how many of them will come back to me.

And yet, there are those rare and wonderful moments, like last night, when a cousin I haven't heard from since 1972 called because he had received my letter.

happy birthday to my baby brother

My parents have all the great pictures of my brother--the one of him at about age 2 in his pajamas and cowboy hat asleep on the sofa; the picture of my brother and father with the Sunday paper on the sofa, both asleep... I'm seeing a pattern here.  How about the one of him under the little Jeep he got for Christmas, "fixing" it like a real auto repair guy?

My brother is 49 today.  Nowadays he has a goat farm in Virginia.  His day job is at Lowe's, I think (although I think he may have another job as well).  Then he goes home to his wife, 12 goats, two donkeys, I don't know how many chickens...  I can't keep track.  Of all the things I may ever have thought my brother would do, farmer was not one of them.

Of course, he probably never thought I'd own a bed & breakfast.  Me, neither.

Anyway, here we are, all grown up and plowing through life every day.  May we all continue to plow happily along for many more years.

Happy birthday, baby brother!

introducing Miss Ruby

Dad got a new dog last Tuesday, a two-year-old Cairn terrier who is now named Ruby. 

It's amazing how such a small creature can change your life.  Dad has already installed a doggie door, something he's never done for any of their other dogs, and Ruby immediately taught herself how to use it. 

She has also claimed the green recliner as her very own.  Dad has two recliners in the living room and one in the bedroom.  The other night he was watching TV in the bedroom, and Ruby barked at him to come into the living room to watch TV so she could be in the green chair.  This little dog may be too smart for all of us.

listless but not list-less

I hear it's a common phenomenon--after the death of someone close to you, you just don't want to do anything.  No drive, no ambition, no energy.

It's not like I don't have tons of things to do.  I still haven't finished unpacking my new pillowcases.  I have new aprons cut out and ready to sew.  I didn't finish cleaning out the shop and gathering my painting supplies.  The storage building desperately needs cleaning out so I can find the rest of my painting tools.  Oh, and then we need to actually DO the painting.  My to-do list goes on for a mile.

Everything came to a complete stop last Monday, and all focus was on taking care of arrangements, attending services, and being with family.  We did have some wonderful times together, but nothing at work got done unless it was absolutely critical.  I'm glad we have Stephanie, who took over all of the housekeeping and laundry.  I'm not sure I could have done that on top of everything else.

Yesterday we were still down in the trenches.  Today we made a little more progress.  It feels kind of like a locomotive, although this one stopped on a dime.  On the other hand, it's taking a while to get it moving again.

a good day was had by all

Monday could have been a hard day or a bad day, but it turned out to be a good day.  It was the day Mom was interred at Santa Fe National Cemetery. 

Since Dad's a veteran, he gets a space and she gets a companion space.  I wasn't really aware how that worked until I saw the headstones with the veteran's name and information on one side and the spouse's on the other side.  It's a little eerie, since some of the headstones are blank on one side, some where the spouse has passed away but the veteran is still living.  I hadn't really thought about that.

The limo from French Mortuary drove us up and we met the rest of the family there.  We actually had a good time on the drive up.  Chris had gone through some photos at the house and brought a box with her.  I had seen very few of them, and many dated from the 1930's, some earlier.  The sad part is that Mom may have remembered who the people were when no one else did.  But... some of them were funny as well.  I even identified a few people.

We saw some cousins that we haven't seen since at least 2003 at Grandma's memorial service.  All three of Uncle Richard's sons came, as well as some folks who have been friends of Mom and Dad for 30 years or more--they were at our wedding!

After the service, a bunch of us adjourned to Tomasita's in Santa Fe for a late lunch.  It was one of Mom's favorite restaurants, and lunch was fantastic.  I had the tamale blue plate special and ate nearly the entire thing--tamale, enchilada, taco, Spanish rice, beans and sopaipilla.  As always, it was nice to catch up on the family news.

It could have been a hard day or a sad day.  Maybe it was both.  But it was also a good day.

two companies I need to thank

After Mom was diagnosed in 2004, she and Dad managed by themselves dealing with her illness.  Early this year, they realized that the time had come to get help by enrolling Mom in hospice care.

They called Ambercare, and the difference was immediate and amazing.  We can't say enough good things about them.  All of their equipment was top-notch and made Mom's life much easier.  They found a better company to provide oxygen for her increasing needs.  She had nurses and doctors checking on a regular basis and aides to help with hygiene and hair care.  Mom developed close relationships with Heather, Veronica, Claudia, and all the others who performed their jobs with kindness and compassion.  In the middle of that final night, Dana arrived around 3:00 a.m., called the funeral home, spent several hours with us while she completed paperwork, ever caring and sensitive, making sure we had everything we needed.

The baton was passed to French Mortuary, with whom Mom and Dad had already made arrangements.  In spite of the "pre-planned" part, we still had to spend a fair amount of time there on Monday, filling in the last details, writing the obituary, and scheduling the visitation, memorial service, and interment.  All of the staff we met were professional and respectful, handling the arrangements and answering questions.

When all of this is distilled to the most important elements, what shines through is sensitivity, compassion, caring, professionalism and respect.  Ambercare and French Mortuary have it.

the whole fam damily

The friends and relatives are starting to arrive in town for Mom's memorial service tomorrow.  It occurred to me the other day that, especially for weddings and funerals, ALL of the relatives come, even the ones you don't really like.  "Oh, rats, I forgot about her." 

After our daughter's high school graduation in 1999, all of the graduates and their family members milled around outside hugging, exchanging promises to keep in touch, and getting ready to attend various graduation parties.  I overheard one of Becky's classmates ask another if she had relatives there for graduation.

"Yeah," she answered glumly.  "The whole fam damily."

I've always remembered that phrase tripping from a teenager's lips.  You know how enthusiastic they are about doing much with family--not very.  Especially after graduation, they can't wait to break away.  "I'm not going to Great-Aunt Bertha's birthday party.  And you can't make me."

The exception in this case is that there are quite a few family members who won't be here.  Several of the aunts and uncles are themselves in very poor health or have had recent surgery and can't travel.  We've lost contact somehow with one whole branch of a cousin's family.  And some have already passed away.

We'll be delighted to see so many of them, some of whom we haven't seen since Grandma's funeral in 2003.

In any event, they'll all be there.  Yep.  The whole fam damily.

a big hole in our family

Very early Monday morning, Steve's mother passed away.  She died much the way she lived, quietly and without great fanfare, but on her own terms.

Bobbie Hiatt was diagnosed with ideopathic pulmonary fibrosis in 2004.  Ideopathic basically means they don't know what causes it, which also means there is very little treatment and no cure.  It is a slow progressive disease that causes hardening of the lungs, gradually starving the body of oxygen.  It is always fatal.

She lived for four years after the diagnosis, a full year longer than the original three years she was told to expect.  That additional year allowed her to attend the wedding in August of her oldest granddaughter, our daughter, her last trip, for which we will always be grateful.

The last three months have been particularly difficult as she lost weight, needed increasing amounts of concentrated oxygen, and became completely housebound.  Other diseases of aging can cause loss of memory or recognition, but Mom was completely aware of her condition and alert until the end.  Her life became a delicate balance between uncomplaining acceptance and not going "gentle into that good night."  She has always accepted the challenges and disappointments of life with grace and gentle humor.  But her inner self raged against her condition and her fate, since the women in her family have all lived well into their 90's with good health and sharp wit.  At age 79, she was gypped out of at least a decade of living to see all the grandchildren grown and settled with children of their own.

As the disease progressed and her body became frail and weak, she watched her independence slip away.  She needed others to help her perform even the smallest functions in life.  Her world narrowed further with loss of hearing and diminishing eyesight, and finally she decided she was ready to go.  In the deep stillness of the night, she slipped away, when she chose, on her own terms. 

She is at last at rest.