Tonight I Want to Cry

Holding my mom's hand, the day we brought her home.

My mom passed away on October 10^th.  Her health was declining over the past 5 years, due to a stroke and macular degeneration.  She had a lot of limitations, but she kept going.  She longed to be with my dad, who died 13 years ago.  But, she kept going.  She became unsteady on her feet, and relied mainly on a wheelchair, but she kept going.  She kept going to the door of her assisted living facility, just wanting to go home.  Then she took a fall, resulting in a brain bleed/stroke that left her paralyzed on her right side, and unable to swallow or speak.  Mom had an advanced directive in place, which clearly stated that she didn’t want extreme measures to keep her alive.  I texted the Pastor of our church, who happened to be across the street from the hospital.  He came to her room immediately to give her the Anointing of the Sick, a Sacrament in the Catholic Church.  As he began he announced, “Today is the Feast of Saint Francis of Assisi”.  I burst into tears, as Francis was my father’s name. It was like dad was saying, “It’s ok, I’m here”.  Although she had only uttered “yeah” to questions from nursing staff, mom prayed the entire Our Father out loud with Monsignor Duncan and I.  It was the last time she spoke. 

Enter, Faith Hospice.  I volunteer at Trillium Woods, so I am well aware of what a wonderful facility it is.  Problem: filled to capacity with a waiting list.  Solution: Bring mom home… to her home.  My sister was driving home when from out of the blue this idea popped into her head. Mom hadn’t lived there in 5 years, but we had held onto it.  Recently, her granddaughter had moved in.  Coincidence?  Perhaps.  Rhiannon is convinced that Grandpa called her there to get it ready for Grandma.  There is a beautiful sunroom off the back of the home that backs up to a wooded area.  Quite, peaceful, beautiful.  Everyone knew instantly that this was perfect.  Our dad spent his last days in that very room with family surrounding him. 

Mom moved home.  Her homecoming to precede the big homecoming.  For three full days, she rested peacefully as her children and grandchildren visited, sang to her, read scripture to her, reflected on memories of her, told her they loved her and said their goodbyes.  You really couldn’t have scripted a better transition from this life to the next.  She looked at you as you spoke, and blinked her eyes to respond. 

Two of her last three nights, I slept on a couch in the sunroom with her.  The night before she died, I’m certain that I was touched by an angel.  Unable to sleep due to back pain, I laid awake listening to her oxygen tank and breathing.  Thoughts and images went through my mind, when suddenly, a brilliant flash of the most beautiful golden beams of light appeared in my mind.  So intense that could feel the warmth on my face and the magnetic draw.  It literally took my breath away, and I opened my eyes.  It was only then that I realized that my other thoughts/images were very much black and white.  I think I had been given a little glimpse of heaven. 

Mom passed away about 12 hours later, with Nancy, her firstborn holding one hand, and Rhiannon, her granddaughter holding the other.  Just two other family members were there at that moment, but it was as it was supposed to be.  

The funeral service was a beautiful celebration of her life, complete with three talented grandchildren singing and playing guitar, a family friend shared her angelic voice, children read scripture, and most of her 19 grandchildren and 24 great-grandchildren processed up the center aisle with roses to place in a vase on the alter.  What a legacy.  I read a eulogy on behalf of my family.  It was an honor.

Now, the relatives have made their way home, and life is getting back to its normal rhythm.  But there’s a hole in my heart.  In the stillness and the quiet, I mourn my mom.  I’m sad that I can’t be there to bring her to appointments, out for ice-cream, to mass on Sunday, or to hold her hand.  It hurts to know that I can’t talk through my latest parenting dilemma.  I long to be able to tell her what’s going on in my life.  Tonight I want to cry.  While I have peace with where she is, I have sadness over where she isn’t. 

So, I’ll cry.  When the memories rush in… when I get a hug from a friend… when I hear a sad song.  I’ll welcome the tears.  And I’ll be ok, because she’s exactly where she’s meant to be.  Because life is good, and God is awesome.  Because I have faith. 

I was blessed with a mom and a dad who loved me.  And for that, I’m eternally grateful. 

Yogi/Bear

Today I drove into Frankfort to pick up some night crawlers for my son’s fishing addiction.  I walked into the bait & tackle shop and was greeted with a friendly “Hello! What can I help you with?”  This big, burly, teddy bear of a guy steps up and grabs me a container of night crawlers, opens them up and inspects them.  “Yup!  They look happy!” 

As I thumbed through my wallet for cash, he must have read my Funk Yeah yoga t-shirt.  He asks, “So where’s the yoga hothouse?”  “Grand Rapids!” I say, with a smile.  He asks me if I’ve been to yoga down the road, which I hadn’t.  He explains that it’s above the bakery/deli, then contemplates what day of the week it is … “Today is Saturday, so tomorrow yoga is at 9:00!  You ought to try it out!”  He folded his hands and placed them heart center in true yogi style and said “Hatha Yoga”. Then this big old teddy bear of a guy says “I can’t WAIT until things slow down here so I can get back there!”  He taps his forefinger along side his head he says, “Gotta get outa my head!”

This just made my day!  When you think of a yogi your mind may conjure up some stereotypical youthful, fit, zen-like figure.  I’ve been a yogi for less than a year, and I know that yogis come from all walks of life, but for some reason this guy took me by surprise.  A pleasant surprise.   

Yoga is for everyone, not just for the young, the fit, the “enlightened”.  Yoga is good for the soul, no matter your age, size, gender or religion.  It takes you “out of your head” so that you can use your head with clarity. I recall hanging out in downward facing dog one day during practice and my instructor said, “Drop your worries, your stress, and all that garbage in your head… I’ll mop it all up after class!” 

I love yoga, and I love yogis.  Try it, you’ll love it! 

Sweet Summertime

Breathe in big.  Take it all in.  The trees are full, the air is sweet, the birds are singing.  There’s nothing like summertime in Michigan.  Tomorrow is Summer Solstice.  Yes!  Summer is here. 

I’m a foodie.  I love good food.  Summer is like heaven…  fresh produce, new recipes, salads, desserts and mixology at its best.  The smell of something cooking on the grill makes me happy.  We gather, we eat, we drink, we laugh.  This is how memories are made.

This summer we started a new tradition.  Wednesday nights we now celebrate “Dinner with the Dalmans”.  Why not break up your work week with a fun & casual night with good friends and great food?!  It’s our way of making sure we get the most out of summer.

Here’s a photo of my first new summer dessert recipe, c/o Cooking Light. 

Margarita Ice Cream Sandwiches.   De-licious! 

http://www.myrecipes.com/recipe/margarita-ice-cream-sandwiches-50400000113024/

What are you doing to make the most of your summer?  Tomorrow you’ll have over 15 hours of daylight to soak in.  My day will start with strawberry picking (and eating) and end with 108 Sun Salutations at Wilcox Park with the Funky Bunch. 

Whatever it is that you do with your day tomorrow, do it big!   

Make the story of your summer a great read.

Nancy

Nancy was a Hospice patient who I came to know over the past several months through visiting her as a Volunteer Eucharistic Minister.  She passed away on Monday, and she has been in my thoughts so many times this past week, that I thought it was about time I write about her and perhaps sort out the why.  

As much as we know that Hospice patients pass away, Nancy always appeared to be a visitor.  Every time I stopped by, without fail, I would enter her room and there she was, fully dressed, sitting on her freshly made bed, either reading a book or chatting on the phone.  This is such a departure from the typical Hospice patient scenario.  She would spend her days reading, talking and visiting with friends, and often went out to lunch with “the girls” or with her son. 

She always seemed to hunger for the outside world.  Each visit she would start by asking me about my family, my plans for the day, or what I did on my weekend.  I really enjoyed our visits and felt compelled to bring her little morsels of life on the outside.  She had a jovial spirit and a serious side.  We would laugh at kid stories, and she would give me advice about my college daughter.  We talked of subjects ranging from literature & politics to hairdressers & restaurants.   

I felt bad that her husband was in poor health but still living at home, while her son lived 3 hours away and her daughter lived in Texas.  She never complained, except for one self-proclaimed pity party she had prior to the holidays.  She realized that she wouldn’t be able to make her traditional Christmas cookies.  She was pouting to her son over the phone about it until he reminded her that she didn’t really enjoy making the cookies anymore anyway.  This got her laughing.  “So what? They’re just cookies!”  Clearly it was the inability to do the things that we are conditioned to do that brought her down, and rightly so.  She dusted off her bruised ego and laughed it off, and went on with the things that she was able to do. 

When you train to be a Hospice Volunteer, you are instructed to enter the room with no agenda, allowing the patient to know that you are there solely for them and their needs.  I often wish I could selfishly dig into their psyche.  What are their thoughts? Fears? Regrets? What unique knowledge that only they possess based on their life experience would they wish to share with the world?  If only I could download this valuable information onto a hard drive.  We could all sync in and be enlightened. 

I’ve searched the Internet daily for her obituary.  Nothing. 

This is what I know for sure about Nancy.  She loved her family. She was proud of her kids.  She was a lifelong learner and avid reader.  She had dear friends to the end.  She shared herself and her thoughts without being imposing.  She made the most of a bad situation. And, most importantly, she was in Communion with God.  She highly recommended one of the last books she read, Tattoos on the Heart.  I’m reading that next.

God bless you Nancy, my friend.

Hello

So, here we go again.  We are off to a good start in 2011.  As I look back at the past year, I realize how blessed I am.  Blessed with the people in my life; my husband, children, family, friends, patients, student, those familiar faces who bring color, texture, wisdom and laughter into my life.  I’ve been blessed with good health, which allows me to not only get around but to challenge myself.  At times I’m proud of my accomplishments, and at other times I’m embarrassed that I don’t do more.  I’ve been blessed with the comforts of food, clothing and shelter, and have visited the dentist and the doctor.  These simple things that we take for granted are things that I’m thankful for each day.  Here’s a statistic I heard at work camp a couple years ago that rattles around in my head and my heart:  If you make over $50,000 a year, you are among the richest one percent of the world’s population.  1 %.  Yes, I am blessed beyond measure.

What brings you joy?  I think we all should focus on bringing joyful moments into our lives, and the lives of others.  My kids bring me great joy.  I remember many years ago when my friend Erin had 3 teenagers at home.  Most people have such horror stories of the teenage years.  Erin would just beam when she talked about her kids at this stage of their lives. “I LOVE teenagers… they’re SO funny!”  Now, I know for a fact that her kids were typical teens.  They had their share of difficulties and challenges.  Now, having 3 teens myself, I gotta say… they ARE funny.  My kids make me laugh all the time.  Where there is laughter, there is love.  I am so thankful for my little family, and having had one of my birds leave the nest this past fall, I’m cherishing every moment we get to spend together.  Ok, so maybe not EVERY moment.  They can still make me crazy, but I love them to pieces.

Another great source of joy is my husband.  I so love and appreciate my husband for who he is and what he brings to my life and the lives of our children.  I just love to say, “You’re the best husband I’ve ever had!” (I can say that, you know.) I’ll steal this one from Keith and simply say “…baby, you’re my better half”. 

I thank God for bringing us together and I look forward to making memories together for many, many years.

What can I say about my friends?  I could write a book… or a song.  Some friends come and go, but I hold them all close to my heart.  They are all part of me.  We’ve shared so much laughter, and heartache, good times and bad.  My heart is full.  Some friendships that you think will last a lifetime can fade, but I treasure the memories, I am thankful for the experiences, and I love them all.  

I’m not going to go on and list the things that brought joy to my life in 2010, because the list is long and they all revolve around the people I’ve mentioned.  Instead, I’ll list my goals for 2011…

MORE!

Reading – I love to read, but I need to make time to read.  One book a month is a realistic goal for me. 

Moving – running, swimming, biking, dancing, yoga… whatever it is, I will move it baby!  I’m not getting any younger, and it’s not getting any easier, but I always feel better after exercise.  I will keep Ella moving too! 

Woof.

Doing. - Less thinking, more doing.  Sometimes I think things to death, which keeps me from actually doing anything.  Over thinking steals time from getting things done.  Embrace the doubt and fear and move forward!

Writing – Another love.  Another thing I neglect, feeling that I have too many items on my to-do list.  Writing, like reading, feels like a selfish act.  Well, that’s ok.  I’ll do it anyway.

Being – Lastly, I want to make sure that I am present in the moment.  I want to live like my dad did in his post-diagnosis year.  He was fully engaged in each encounter, he took in every sunset.  He smiled, and in his smiling eyes you could see that he was soaking in the moment. 

What do you want more of this year?  How are you going to get in touch with your authentic self? 

Life is beautiful, but life is short.  Make it count.