another milestone

my brother turns 18 tomorrow... and here we are.. another milestone that our dad will not be here for...he got his licence and his first job within this year.. and now.. the big 18..of course that thought leads to everything else he will not be here for.. his graduation.. wedding.. but.. i didn't want this post to be a sad one...

when our dad's dad died i asked him what kind of father he was and if he was any kind of role model for the kind of dad our papa wanted to be.. he said that his dad was more of a provider than a teacher.. and that he wanted to be both.. then he laughed and said.. "heck..if your brother makes it to 18 i will be happy"..and i think.. well.. you did it dad.. you did your job.. and more.. because he may not be there physically tomorrow.. but his legacy will be present in the form of my brother..when i see the man he is becoming i see my dad.. i see everything he instilled in him..i mean..ok..my brother is far from the man he will someday be.. but i see glimmers and hints.. and i don't worry about him the way i would have before.. i see his potential and i see his heart.. and both are beautiful..

so what now brother bear? what's so big about 18? well here is a list of things you can do after tomorrow:

Buy tobacco

Change your name

Get a tattoo

Get a piercing

Work more hours

Sue someone /Be sued

Purchase liquid white out

Pawn something

Get married/Get divorced

Adopt a child

Be on Jerry Springer

Buy a lottery ticket

Get a hotel room

Call some "900" numbers

Go to a night club

Get a Sam's club/Costco membership

Skydive

Sign legal documents

Gamble

Get a loan

Buy insurance

Donate blood

Enlist in the military

Be convicted as an adult

Become a stripper

Vote

Obtain a credit card

Buy a monkey (w/ a license)

ok.. i didn't say you should do these things... but i totally support the monkey thing!

Book Review- A Sacred Walk: Dispelling the Fear of Death and Caring for the Dying

A Sacred Walk: Dispelling the Fear of Death and Caring for the Dying

by Donna M. Authers

A & A Publishing, 2008

This is another book that I read to ready me for volunteer work. I started it a month ago but just recently finished it. It was a tough read. So much of it reminded me of my papa that I had to put it down almost as soon as I picked it up. It was difficult to remove myself from it and I didn't want to read it in that mind set. If i say here that I was able to read it and not cry or not think of my dad, it would be a lie.

In this book Donna gives practical advice for any caretaker, caregiver, friend or family member of a person who is dying.

This advice and wisdom comes in the form of personal stories, scripture and practicality. Donna talks about many of the losses she has been through in her life but the one that resonates throughout the book is the loss of her mother. From the moment when her mom learns that her brain tumor is inoperable Donna and her mom begin a journey. Their honesty with each other is beautiful and raw. They struggle together to find meaning, God and closure. What they find instead is strength.

The toughest parts to get through in this book are the conversations and letters shared with each other. It is hardest to keep the tears at bay when her mom says she feels like she is detaching, like she is here and there and the same time, so she knows it is time. Any book on death and grief will tell you that at some point the patient will detach emotionally but to see/hear the words is heart wrenching. In the end Donna's mom passes with dignity and in the most ideal and beautiful way. Subsequently Donna was left with "good grief". This was a wonderful read simply due to the best of a bad situation experienced by the author. Her lessons are very much worth reading, and learning from!

on God.. and faith part 5

so it's been another time of struggle for me.. i keep praying for patience.. i am seriously lacking.. still no job.. still looking.. still feeling rejected and worrying about student loans and money issues.. and i am trying to have faith that God will provide and will put me where i can be of use.. i read the sermon on the mount for the first time the other day or should i say night.. because i haven't been sleeping.. in it Jesus says "Or what man is there of you, whom if his son ask bread, will he give him a stone?"...

because i am not sleeping i have gotten into this habit in the deepest darkness of the night.. to call up a vision of my dad.. i mean to the very last detail.. i can see every line in his face.. i can see him from the side with his head bent in thought.. i can see him smile and the crinkles in the outer corner of his eyes.. i can smell the mix of dust and leather that clung to him all the time..i see his hands..the callouses and strength within them.. i hear his voice.. his laugh.. i am so terrified of forgetting him that i force myself to do this.. all the while feeling daggers in the pit of my stomach... because i can't hug a vision..when i finally do fall asleep i dream of him... lately my dreams involve goodbyes.. like he is visiting me in Michigan and before i take him to the airport i hang onto his neck and won't let go.. i tell him i love and will miss him and whatever will i do without him.. i tell him how important he is to me.. and i cry and he just holds on to me... i think in my dream i am saying all of the things i should have said to him.. he says it will all be okay.. in this recurring dream i fall asleep instead of taking him to the airport and when i wake up he is gone.. and there is that emptiness i feel when i'm actually awake.. this lost emptiness that comes when my mind remembers he is gone... my mom has shared with me that last week was a tough one for her.. she was feeling it all over again.. grief comes in waves.. we know.. but this was like living through it all over again..it's normal... doesn't make it hurt any less does it?

so because i find myself praying every night and day when i am at my lowest, i think about my dad and his prayers... and today i decided to share something with you all.. what i really want to do is talk to him.. call him and remember the story with him.. maybe talk about faith.. and have those beautiful long philosophical conversations that we used to... i wrote about my dad's faith and what we struggled with when my mom first gave her life to God in this post On God And Faith part 1 some of my favorite conversations with him were while my mom was at one of her bible studies..we talked about prayer and whether it was just collective good "vibes" being sent to someone in need.. and could that healing power be dismissed if we didn't call it prayer.. because sometimes that word scares people.. but somehow "vibes" doesn't...and then there is the dinosaur story that i wasn't going to share here.. but like i said.. this is my way of talking to my dad too..it is my favorite.. and encompasses so many sides of my papa..

one night when my mom was at bible study my dad called me, like he normally would.. sometimes to talk about the weather or just to say hello... at the time he (we) were kind of feeling a little left behind in my mom's new journey.. she wasn't home much.. and my dad was catching glimpses and snippets of conversation.. he attended a few bible studies but this night he said he could never be baptized...i don't hide my worry about religion, denominations and such.. so he knew how i felt.. but proceeded to tell me "they don't believe in dinosaurs!" what? haha "dad, how can they not believe in dinosaurs?" he went on to talk about the evolution controversy and the belief that the earth is not old enough to be dated back to when scientists date dinosaur fossils...and that he just couldn't deny hard proof for faith... NOTE: i have yet to ask anyone within my mom and dad's congregation if they believe in dinosaurs.. this was simply his deduction from things he'd heard..anyway.. we talked for an hour about this dinosaur issue admittedly giggling at the thought of denouncing their existence.. i mean.. seriously?

so, about a year and a half later my dad is baptized and i call to talk to him.. to set my own mind at ease i needed to know.. was he tying up lose ends here? was he scared? what brought him to this decision? (at this time he is sick and not doing well).. he says it was just something he felt he wanted/needed to do.. he had been attending church and bible studies for some time before this.. this was not an abrupt decision..then he cupped his hand over the phone and whispered.."but ana marie.. i still believe in dinosaurs!"... ha! i laughed and cried.. but mostly laughed.. cause that is my dad for ya!

God i miss that man... today and every day.. i wish more than anything he was here to help guide me in my struggle with faith.. and my search for a relationship with God.. i think he would understand me.. i know he would..

forget everything you THINK you know

i spent most of my evening yesterday feeling angry, frustrated, rejected, and sorry for myself.. i am doing all that i can to find a full time job.. i have student loans breathing down my neck.. my husbands truck is falling apart quite literally.. subbing is just not going to cut it this year... and after countless resumes and applications being sent out.. i have heard nothing.. if you have ever looked for a job to no avail then you know the frustration and ultimate feelings of "what is wrong with me?"..and i don't know why but i keep feeling like if i could just talk to my dad then i would be okay.. silly i know.. cause really and honestly i wouldn't even tell him how i was feeling.. but if i could just hear his voice i might know that it's all going to be okay.. that's what dad's do.. they make everything okay.. even when they don't know they are doing it...

so i prayed.. and cried.. and resolved to "keep the faith" and know somewhere in the depths of myself.. that we will be okay in the end.. that something will happen.. something will come up.. some employer somewhere will realize how amazing i am at my job and hire me.. somewhere there is a classroom of really lucky kids that will have me! ok.. so i don't know this.. and today i am not this confident.. but.. fake it till you make it right? i read in this book i have been reading that if you just pretend to have faith..then God will take care of the rest.. He will take your doubts, fear and anger... in the same book i read that when we are at our lowest and struggling with our own pain, focusing on someone else would help... so i was blessed with a wonderful distraction/ message a few weeks ago (ok like months ago)..and it deserves attention...as do you all dealing with loss.. for this woman in particular and her family.. this loss happens to be a diagnosis..

there is a loss/grief that comes with diagnosis.. you see in our lives we tend to looks ahead.. we have visions of perfect futures...and a cancer diagnosis throws that whole thing off the track.. so not only do we deal with the reality of mortality but we also begin to mourn that life we thought we'd have.. even when a person survives cancer..the future is not the same.. sometimes is it even more amazing.. but not the same.. and we certainly can not see that even more amazing future when struggling with mortality...

so this particular message sent to my facebook inbox started with "i am not a creepy stalker" and who can resist reading a message that starts like that? anyway turns out that her husband was diagnosed with stage 4 kidney cancer earlier this year and she looked to the web for information and blogs that would help in some way.. she asked for any words of wisdom/comfort and spoke of her kids (adult children) who seem to all be dealing with this in their own way..and struggling in different ways..

this got me thinking of my own family.. truth be told we were not all on the same page in dealing with papa's diagnosis and deterioration...i struggled to be the strong one.. the logical one.. the one who needed to see scans and find any and all information i could.. my brother refused to hear anything unless it was positive.. i won't ever call it denial.. it was what he needed.. to know that there were possibilities and hope.. my mom controlled what she could.. she forbade the hospice workers to talk about death in any way.. and they sure did hear from her when she was defied..she tried to control his diet and anything else that she could.. because everything else was out of her hands... others in our extended family were angry.. other's avoided.. other's urged him to fight until his very last breath..and my dad.. well he took it all in stride and in faith.. i am sure.. i am positive he was scared, angry, and just as bewildered as we all were.. but he truly held us together with something as simple as a smile..

so i compiled some things that i want this woman and her family to know..

1. first and foremost find God..accept the strength that He has instilled in all of us.. it's there you know.. we just aren't always aware of it until we need it.. when you find the strength to get out of bed and do it all over again.. when you find the clarity to listen to the doctors.. that's God..

2. forget everything you think you know.. no amount of books.. no amount of advice.. nothing. can prepare you..

3. respect each other's differences.. understand that we all do what we need to do..it may not be what you feel is the "right" or "best" way.. but you will all get through it.in your own way.. no matter the outcome..

4. be positive.. understand that this is actually a gift of sorts.. it's one we would all like to return.. i know.. but it's a gift none the less.. all of us will face the end at some point.. but we don't always know when that will be.. God is sending you a message.. listen, He says... i may not take him today or tomorrow.. or for another 40 or 50 years.. but some day i will.. and this is your wake up call.. head that warning.. and cherish every moment you have with each other.. even if you have another 50 years together!

5. reach out.. find someone, anyone you trust to listen to you.. there are so many things you may not want to say out loud.. write it down.. get it out... and know that friends, real friends, can take whatever you give them..this is a stressful time for you all and holding it in can and will lead to physiological issues.. i lost my voice.. literally.. from holding it all in.. i could barely squeek and croak for a week!

6. never accept.. "i know how you feel" because no one does.. not your siblings.. not your mom.. no one knows how YOU feel... you each have individual relationships with your dad/husband.. don't feel alone in this.. relish in it.. own it.. but find those who simply listen.. not commiserate

7. SLEEP!

8. did i say sleep? get your rest.. you need each other at your bests.. so pop a benadryl or see your dr for something if you need to.. just get your sleep!

9. one day at a time.. that was my dad's favorite song to sing in church.. and it's the most we can do.. take it one day at a time..

10. and finally some thing for the man at the center of this all: in the face of surgery.. you swallowed hard and did it.. in the face of a very difficult treatment.. you balled your fists and resolved to do it.. continue to fight.. God will meet you in the middle.. you are still Dad.. so continue being Dad.. you are still a partner.. so continue giving the same support that she gives to you.. and do what you need to do for you..you are in charge.. you hold the cards...not even a monster as terrible as cancer can take that from you!

the easy way out?

last week my cousin committed suicide...i didn't know him well.. he was on my dad's side of the family and if you are a repeat reader then you know i am not as close to his side of the family and struggle with some feelings in regards to that topic... in fact the last time i spoke to him he didn't know who i was... it was after our grandfather's funeral and he was standing alone in the corner.. he felt bad that he knew my brother (who doesn't know my brother) but didn't know me.. he asked "do you know anyone else here?" which was funny because in truth i didn't and neither did we... we knew my aunts and uncles.. and a few cousins..we made snide comments about how people use funerals for family reunions and it was sad that many of the people there would not see each other till the next one (turned out to be my dad's).. this was in direct reference to my brother's speech (mini eulogy) during our grandfather's funeral.. you see my brother had gotten close to the family as he accompanied our dad while he cared for first his mother then his father before their deaths.. which is where the sense of abandonment and anger came from latter.. but i digress.. this is about our cousin...not us..

so my mom called to tell me last week and there was shock.. no i didn't know him well but i have always understood him to be a solid man..one who fought for our country..i called my uncle to give condolences and by chance spoke to a grief counselor who opened my eyes to this whole subject.. i needed help wrapping my mind around it all.. i felt so bad for the pain that his family must be feeling.. as well as the confusion and subsequent anger and guilt associated with being a surviving family member...i tossed and turned one night because i just keep thinking about what kind of inner pain and turmoil he was feeling in order to have taken this step.. i mean.. we all know what it's like to want to throw up our hands or not get out of bed.. so imagine that pain multiplied..

this weekend i also found out that another person, in the same city as my cousin, took his life as well.. this man barricaded himself in his house and called the police.. the swat team was sent out to no avail... the man shot himself.. at the end of the news story people left comments.. most were to the effect of "suicide is selfish" or "he just wanted attention" or "he took the easy way out"...hurtful terrible comments... it turns out this man fought for our country as well..the comments made no sense to me.. didn't the people saying this hurtful things have any amount of empathy to consider the victim and what a painful decision this must have been?

so in thinking about this and talking to the counselor that i ran into i learned that there are so many myths out there and general feelings about suicide..

Suicide Myth

People who are suicidal definitely want to die.

Suicide Fact

The vast majority of people who are suicidal do not want to die. They are in pain, and they want to stop the pain.

Suicide Myth

People who are suicidal do not seek help.

Suicide Fact

Many people who are suicidal reach out for help.

Suicide Myth

People who attempt suicide are weak.

Suicide Fact

They are in pain. Many people who are very "strong" die by suicide. (www.suicide.org)

so are we seriously going to judge people based on a last desperate action? are we going to consider them weak? my cousin and the other man who died in the same week fought for our freedom..they both saw and experienced things we will never understand... they more than likely did not come to this decision lightly and sought help in some way.. they did not want to die.. they just wanted the pain to stop.. and not being able to understand it ourselves does not give us the right to give them any less respect..and families should not have to hide in shame.. and guilt.. simply because society condemns them as well.. maybe instead of judging we should be trying to better understand why..we are busy finding cures for cancer..but this is just as serious an epidemic..

just some thoughts in respect and memory of Travis Berumen

Eva Braun

today we lost our Eva..and i am struggling with the idea of "just"..as in just a cat...i mean i lost my dad for goodness sake.. i have lost cousins, grandparents.. but never a cat.. sure i flushed a few fish in my day.. i don't remember those losses... my dog's disappearance is a mystery.. so was my brother's dog.. so i was not expecting the loss of our little Eva to hit me so hard.. i kind of walked around the house for a while.. not sure what to do.. but writing has helped me cope with so much that i felt this blog fitting to place her memorial..

we got Eva a few weeks before Halloween in 2006.. there was this woman nearby who had kittens...a stray (must have been a feral stray from the temperaments of the kittens) had a littler under her porch.. we already had an adult male cat (Patrick).. but why not get a kitten...we had bought a house..why not fill it up.. our plan was to pick one and make sure it had a good life.. doctor care, spay/nueter..etc...so we picked a black ball of fluff who we named Maggie May...the problem was Maggie cried and cried and cried and she was full of fleas so we had to keep her quarantined till the vet would see her.. so my husband made a decision.. "go back and get another one"..i did.. when i had picked out Maggie i hadn't seen another kitten that caught my eye...so i asked the lady which cat Maggie tended to be with the most.. she pointed at a teeny tiny black and white mess of a cat.. "that's Hitler" she said.. because she had a mustache...i thought.. there is no way i was going to name her Hitler.. but Eva Braun seemed okay... and i brought Eva home...as soon as she saw Maggie they were like super glue...they slept together.. refused to use separate litter pans.. they were spayed together.. scratched each others stitches..licked each others paws when we subjected them to nail clippings..

Somewhere along the way Eva became neurotic.. she ate her food in gulps..she got really fat so we put her on a diet.. she slimmed down but got too thin and after that we couldn't get her to put on weight... she would chew off clumps of her fur... she would scratch her face and ears till they were bloody...we couldn't figure her out... she was treated for mites and worms.. both of which she didn't have (precautionary treatments).. we did things to alleviate any allergy she might have had.. we gave her extra love..in the end.. she was deemed "crazy"... she spent more time in a cone than any animal i've ever known.. the cone was to keep her from hurting herself.. but many nights we would try to play with her and she wouldn't play.. she was so unhappy... and we felt so bad for her... the other cats turned on her and were annoyed with her constant.. CONSTANT meowing and yowling..we would find scratches on her nose from one of the other two...and the cone would go back on..

last night i noticed a large amount of fur missing from her tail.. which meant she was at it again.. and the cone was to go back on today.. instead what we found was her water dish broken into shards..there were some drops of blood near the water dish and on her favorite perching stool.. but no Eva.. we discovered her body hidden, curled up in a box... she had undoubtedly hidden there to die.. as of right now we have no idea how she died.. we have deduced a freak accident of sorts.. i don't want an autopsy.. i just want her left alone..

this afternoon i found a biodegradable box and painted her name on it.. we are going to bury her in the backyard.. the city demands a metal or wood box but i would like for her to decompose quickly.. i would like for her body to be used by the earth.. i don't know if cats have souls but i hope she is finally at rest..

i didn't know how hard this would be.. i joked all the time about our oldest dying and the possibility of finally getting a dog.. i can't get out of my mind what might have happened and how scared she might have been.. did she meow? we don't know what time this occurred..had we learned to tune her out to the point that we wouldn't have noticed? poor Eva...she wasn't just a cat... she was her sister's keeper.. and she was my husbands source of sanity when i was in Arizona with my dad..

our fatty, fatty fat fat, large marge, looney tooney, eva von fatz, fatzenstien, von pork, porkness, porky, porky pie, eva braun.. we will miss you!

Book Reviews- 2fer

I have finally begun hospice volunteer work. I was excited to hear that I had been cleared and was given my first assignment. I went to a convention mostly having to do with finances and taxes and passed out information on what HOM does. I have pretty much decided to speak very generally about any assignment I am on and only convey experiences that have/will affect my grasp on grief and the loss of my father. As a volunteer I am supposed to be open to the individuals I am working with and not project my loss in any way. I know that what I have gone through with my dad affects everything I do in life, but I am resolved not to “make it all about me.” So this assignment was great practice for that. It was an odd place to have a hospice booth, this convention, and I was reminded by a few people how bleak hospice is contorted in people’s minds. So I lightened the mood by reminding everyone that death is as inevitable as taxes.. that went over well because the mass majority of people I talked to were accountants of some kind. So I pushed pamphlets like my life depended on it, to people who dared make eye contact with me. Then there came the practice I mentioned. Some people sought out the booth. They came to me simply to tell what a wonderful experience they’d had with hospice, and one not so great experience. They wanted to tell me about their mother’s, sisters, fathers, brothers, wives and husbands. I listened, said that I was glad that “we” could be there for them. Some left a little misty eyed but most left with huge grins on their faces. Most people relate to others with two simple words, “me too.” So when one man told me about his mother in law using hospice, I could have interjected/related that my dad also used hospice. But what would that have accomplished? A whole lot of nothing, for him. He walked across the convention floor to tell me about HIS experience, not hear about mine. And it was nice to allow him that. I w

as worried that doing this would bring up all kinds of unresolved or even perfectly resolved issues with grief. I no longer have that worry. Me doing this has nothing to do with my dad. I am doing this because I know that I can. For the same reason I teach special education. I could teach anything but I focus on special education because I can. I can talk to the living all day, but I chose to give my time to the dying, because I can. And wouldn’t it be a shame to waste that on reruns of Oprah. As much as I love my Oprah time, it can be spent more impactfully (yes I make up words now). Ok.. getting off my soapbox.. I have a couple of book reviews if you are interested:

In preparation for my journey as a hospice volunteer I have a stack of books to read. A list was sent from HOM and I ordered a couple from my library.. as well as a few that came up in the search. The two books that I am reviewing today are written by hospice volunteers. Each writes about patients of whom have make an impact on the volunteer and either offered a learning experience or a better understanding of themselves.

When Evening Comes: The Education of a Hospice Volunteer

By Christine Andreae

St Martin's Press, 2000

All I can say after reading this book is “wow.” Christine’s account of the connection and struggle to connect with her patients was so raw and honest. My first thought was that it was too honest and could be offensive to family members. But I wasn’t reading it from that perspective. I was reading it looking for tips and tools. What I got instead was a look inside a volunteer as she struggled with feelings of inadequacy and the potentiality of crossing the lone with her patients. She writes, in journal form, about finding her “place” within the care team, friends and family of the patient. She worries about her misgivings and slip ups. In one particular passage in which iced coffee squirted out of my nose after reading it, she describes meeting a couple who is a bit too open about the wife’s cancer. The husband openly discusses where the cancer is, how long she’s had it… cancer cancer cancer. As Christine listens to him speak she wonders how his openness with a stranger is making his wife feel. She attempts to change the subject by making note of the brightly decorated Christmas tree. She says “how pretty that tree looks with all the cancer on it.” For days she frets over how to make it better. What could she say or do to take it back.

She also writes about her struggle to find a reason why she is a volunteer. She worries that her volunteering as well as her murder-mystery authorship makes her seem macabre. She gives text- book answers to the “why” question and fears no one believes her as she does not believe herself. She doesn’t dwell on this question but discusses it while trying to say open and receive the “gifts” other volunteers talk about.

Through Christine’s honesty and self discovery, I certainly picked up a few tools but more importantly discovered how important being honest with one’s self is in this journey!

Becoming Dead Right: A Hospice Volunteer in Urban Nursing Homes

By Frances Shani Parker

Loving Healing Press, 2007

I really don’t like to say that I did not like a book. Really each book has something different to offer and the fact that I finished it is a testament to it right? So I didn’t like this book, rather, it was not my “cup-o-lemon-ginseng-green-tea.” I find most poetry pretentious. I love to teach the subject and I love giving kids that alternative way to express themselves. But really, just say what you need to say. I am guilty of a few too many metaphors I’m sure.. but I still tend to roll my eyes when beats and measures are used for emphasis.. just use an exclamation point.. it serves the same purpose. That being said, the author of this book is an acclaimed and note worthy poet and it shows through her writing, which is possibly the reason I found it trying to read.

Back to the book- Frances Shani Parker, a Detroit high school principal decides to become a hospice volunteer after caring for, in an informal way, two men with AIDS. She writes about seeing a need for workers willing to be compassionate for patients with AIDS in particular, and she fills that void for two men.

As a volunteer she visits with the patients she lovingly writes about. She learns how to be “open” (a recurring theme in both books), and how to visit each patient in their reality. I found this the most helpful. Many of her patients had some form of dementia and if she had not been able to relate to them in their reality, time would have been wasted either ignoring them or trying to convince them otherwise. For instance one of her patients claims that there is a man under her bed. The author crawls under the bed and shouts for the man to leave her patient alone. The mental image made me giggle but also made sense. What would most people have done? Try to convince the woman that there was no one under her bed? That would have frustrated all involved. In the patient’s reality there was a man there, and the author was able to quiet and comfort her by playing along.

There were also patients that she struggled to connect with simply because there was no verbal communication between the two. With each patient she found a way to connect, through music, or through speaking to them as though it were a year in their youth.

Although I struggled with some of the author’s writing style I was still able to learn so much through her experiences.