One year ago today my mom died. Rather than dwell on the sadness of her passing I want to celebrate her life. She had a great life with my dad. They were married just shy of 64 years and they raised a good family. She was funny and loving and I’ll always miss her.
If you would like to read more about her read my post Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child.
The following are two of my favorite poems
The day my son had his wisdom teeth out I stayed home with him (doctor’s orders) to make sure he didn’t enjoy the after effects of anesthesia and surgery too much. He collapsed on the couch and flipped channels in between spiting into a large plastic cup and changing the gauze pads that made him look a little like a hamster with a mouth packed full of seeds.
He kept asking me “Why? Why does it have to hurt so much dad?”
What could I say? “I don’t know, it’s just the way things are . . . What the hell are you watching anyway?”
Last Wednesday as I was getting ready for work, I noticed my cell phone’s red light was blinking indicating I had a message. When I opened up my phone it said I had 3 messages, not a good sign.
It was my son. When I called him back he sounded terrible. Worse than terrible really. There’s something about being a parent that enables you to detect the most subtle of differences in your child’s voice. This morning there was nothing subtle about it, he was in deep, deep pain.
For years I had plans to interview my parents. They both had lived through so much. Born before the depression, dustbowl era and wars. They traveled the world together and experienced a very full life. I wanted to get all of their memories down on video. Their experiences, their feelings, what they learned, etc. Mom was the only one who could identify most of the people in many of the old photos I have (no one wrote who it was on the back of them). Alas time has slipped away and mom is gone and dad is slipping away. Fortunately I do have a good memory myself (when I’m not too stressed anyway) and have access to many stories of our extended families.
It’s not like we were a shrinking demographic before this news but my heart goes out to the newest members of the Black Dog Club.
Soldier, sailor, airman or marine, we all thank you for your service. Let the stigma of getting help for this problem be damned. Please get help, you deserve it.
Study Says 300,000 U.S. Troops Suffer Mental Problems.
Nearly 1 in 5 US troops reports mental problems, possible brain injury from Iraq, Afghanistan
Army Releases Mental Health Advisory Team V Report
On a lighter note - sounds like a lot of folks are getting rid of their black dogs.
. . . to an interesting post. Pay attention to the internal links of the article, they’re good too.
It was hovering around 70 when I got off work so I threw on some shorts, a tee shirt and running shoes and off I went. The wind was very strong (it is Kansas after all) and because I was running west, it was blowing east (of course). It has been several weeks since I last ran or worked the ellipse. I am always surprised when I run after a lay off as I usually pick up right where I was, sometimes I even seem to have more energy than usual. I sit on my butt in an office all day and I had trouble sleeping last night so it was a nice surprise.
Seems like it was just the other day that I found myself in my parent’s house, choked up and misty eyed as I had to clean and organize their belongings getting it ready to sell. Childhood memories & emotions came flooding back as I came across a lifetime’s collection of possessions from around the world and across the last 150 years.
Well, in re-reading this post I find it’s not the most uplifting, so feel free to skip it. You won’t hurt my feelings. I usually can suck it up and at least try to be positive & encouraging but I’ve just been a little worn out lately. Overwhelmed too. Sometimes it’s a little difficult to keep a stiff upper lip you know?
A special thanks to my reader Lisa who mentioned Heather Armstrong’s wonderfully written blog Dooce.com. In reading Heather’s blog I discovered a kindred soul not only in her sense of humor but in her battle with depression. Heather if you’re reading this, thank you for your writing, humor and honesty - and thank you for pointing me to this article . . .
Amen brother, amen.
