| Sep 16 2011 |
09/16/11
To my very dear friends, and most loyal readers:
My father died in 1998; during the last two years of his life, he was so very, very ill, with nothing to be done, except for themost palliative of measures. For some previous time, he had begun sleeping in his recliner, out in the livingroom, and, with time always the enemy, I watched as he slowly, ever so slowly wasted away, becoming an horrible characature of my dad, his body and face like some unbearable costume of his former self.
Long since, our roles of 'parent'child' had changed, so that now, I was the parent figure, giving him his medications, urging him to eat, stopping by the grocery store on my way home from work to buy something, anything that might spur his appetite, taking him to see his doctors, getting groceries, and prescriptions that were necessary to help keep him alive.
On a number of my night's off, I would stay up with him, bringing my pillows and blanket to arrange them on the sofa, both of us dozing at intervals through the long night, while my poor mother slept as best she could, as his condition exhausted her, as well.
By now, the entire tennor of the house had altered, changed, mutated into one, large 'sick room', with dad's recliner at the center, surrounded by pulsing, and beeping medical equipment.
I had gotten an electric recliner for my dad, which he loved, when the wooden handle on the old one proved to be too much to move as he weakened. Every night, before I went off to work, I would make sure my dad was tucked in, and his feet elevated on a pillow, and with a neck pillow, so that, half-upright, he could breathe easier, and could get to the bathroom quicker.
By the time I left for work, mom was already in her cap, and nightgown, with her dentures duly put away, resembling not so much the mom I knew, but of some elderly lady.
And, my dearest friends, one of my fondest memory from those times, was, when my father feltbetter, both he, and my mom would stand at the open front door, behind the glassed-in screen door to wave at me as I left for work; once, as I was driving away, I looked back to see my mom and dad still standing at the screen door, speaking to each other, as they drew little 'smile faces' upon the condensation there. That image--for which I am grateful--will be forever etched upon my heart, although it makes me smile, and brings ready tears to my eyes.
I need hardly tell you, my dearest friends and readers, that we were a 'close' family; there was just the three of us, often, just us three against the world, and my world revolved around them completely.
Always, before I left for workm and, again in the morning whenever I returned home, I always kissed both my mother and father on the cheek; it being especially poignant at night, as I never knew what might transpire in my absence.
Before I left, my dad would always point to his cheek, and say, " Gimme a little sugar, before you go." And for those of you quite unfamiliar with the term, 'sugar' in that regard, meant a little demonstration of love, and I would go over to him in his chair, and lean over to kiss him on the cheek as he tried to pucker his lips to kiss at mine; with the back of my hand, I would most gently stroke his emmaciated cheek, to tell him that I loved him.
For, while often love is an unspoken and assumed emotion, sometimes it HAS to be physically demonstrated, even, by the littlest of kisses.
And, in these later years, with both of my parents gone, I firmly believe that I was most fortunate to have had the best mother and father in the world.
And, among the many, many things I learned from them, I will most glady share several with you, as I belived then--as now--to be of vast importance.
1) To NEVER let the sun go down on an arguement. Period. That any conflict should be resolved, or, at least tabled by nightfall.
2) No matter what, ALWAYS kiss me goodnight, for you never know what the morning will bring.
3) And....if a friend or loved one asks for a,'little sugar', it is given to them with heart wide open, freely, and to overflowing.
4) And, as my mother lay dying, I spoke into her ear ( as they say, hearing is the last thing to go ), " Please, please, always take the love with you, wherever you go," for I truly believe that it is the love that goes onward and ever onward past infinity, past universes, past all human concept.
In a funny kind of way-- I guess, you--my new and dear friends and readers at MDJunction have sort of become my 'new', extended family, as in reality, I have none. And while, in frank confession, realize and know that, besides my dear dog, Daisy ( and, hopefully ! soon to be my pony, 'Charlie Brown' !!!!!!!! ), I live alone, and am alone, that, on occasion, I could use a 'little sugar', too. As really, can't we all ?
You can live a life without love.....many people do, but there's always something, sometimes quite undefinable, that is missing.
And maybe it is that 'kiss goodnight' that I most remember and crave. For that concurrent feeling of wholeness, of validation, and...of making everything 'all right'.
And so, friends and gentle and considerate readers, I wish for you 'pain-free' days; quiet, and contemplative evenings free from dischord, and...nights of blissful and restorative sleep, guarded--always--by tender angels to watch over you, and protect you from harm. Love, 'Zahc/Charles'
To my very dear friends, and most loyal readers:
My father died in 1998; during the last two years of his life, he was so very, very ill, with nothing to be done, except for themost palliative of measures. For some previous time, he had begun sleeping in his recliner, out in the livingroom, and, with time always the enemy, I watched as he slowly, ever so slowly wasted away, becoming an horrible characature of my dad, his body and face like some unbearable costume of his former self.
Long since, our roles of 'parent'child' had changed, so that now, I was the parent figure, giving him his medications, urging him to eat, stopping by the grocery store on my way home from work to buy something, anything that might spur his appetite, taking him to see his doctors, getting groceries, and prescriptions that were necessary to help keep him alive.
On a number of my night's off, I would stay up with him, bringing my pillows and blanket to arrange them on the sofa, both of us dozing at intervals through the long night, while my poor mother slept as best she could, as his condition exhausted her, as well.
By now, the entire tennor of the house had altered, changed, mutated into one, large 'sick room', with dad's recliner at the center, surrounded by pulsing, and beeping medical equipment.
I had gotten an electric recliner for my dad, which he loved, when the wooden handle on the old one proved to be too much to move as he weakened. Every night, before I went off to work, I would make sure my dad was tucked in, and his feet elevated on a pillow, and with a neck pillow, so that, half-upright, he could breathe easier, and could get to the bathroom quicker.
By the time I left for work, mom was already in her cap, and nightgown, with her dentures duly put away, resembling not so much the mom I knew, but of some elderly lady.
And, my dearest friends, one of my fondest memory from those times, was, when my father feltbetter, both he, and my mom would stand at the open front door, behind the glassed-in screen door to wave at me as I left for work; once, as I was driving away, I looked back to see my mom and dad still standing at the screen door, speaking to each other, as they drew little 'smile faces' upon the condensation there. That image--for which I am grateful--will be forever etched upon my heart, although it makes me smile, and brings ready tears to my eyes.
I need hardly tell you, my dearest friends and readers, that we were a 'close' family; there was just the three of us, often, just us three against the world, and my world revolved around them completely.
Always, before I left for workm and, again in the morning whenever I returned home, I always kissed both my mother and father on the cheek; it being especially poignant at night, as I never knew what might transpire in my absence.
Before I left, my dad would always point to his cheek, and say, " Gimme a little sugar, before you go." And for those of you quite unfamiliar with the term, 'sugar' in that regard, meant a little demonstration of love, and I would go over to him in his chair, and lean over to kiss him on the cheek as he tried to pucker his lips to kiss at mine; with the back of my hand, I would most gently stroke his emmaciated cheek, to tell him that I loved him.
For, while often love is an unspoken and assumed emotion, sometimes it HAS to be physically demonstrated, even, by the littlest of kisses.
And, in these later years, with both of my parents gone, I firmly believe that I was most fortunate to have had the best mother and father in the world.
And, among the many, many things I learned from them, I will most glady share several with you, as I belived then--as now--to be of vast importance.
1) To NEVER let the sun go down on an arguement. Period. That any conflict should be resolved, or, at least tabled by nightfall.
2) No matter what, ALWAYS kiss me goodnight, for you never know what the morning will bring.
3) And....if a friend or loved one asks for a,'little sugar', it is given to them with heart wide open, freely, and to overflowing.
4) And, as my mother lay dying, I spoke into her ear ( as they say, hearing is the last thing to go ), " Please, please, always take the love with you, wherever you go," for I truly believe that it is the love that goes onward and ever onward past infinity, past universes, past all human concept.
In a funny kind of way-- I guess, you--my new and dear friends and readers at MDJunction have sort of become my 'new', extended family, as in reality, I have none. And while, in frank confession, realize and know that, besides my dear dog, Daisy ( and, hopefully ! soon to be my pony, 'Charlie Brown' !!!!!!!! ), I live alone, and am alone, that, on occasion, I could use a 'little sugar', too. As really, can't we all ?
You can live a life without love.....many people do, but there's always something, sometimes quite undefinable, that is missing.
And maybe it is that 'kiss goodnight' that I most remember and crave. For that concurrent feeling of wholeness, of validation, and...of making everything 'all right'.
And so, friends and gentle and considerate readers, I wish for you 'pain-free' days; quiet, and contemplative evenings free from dischord, and...nights of blissful and restorative sleep, guarded--always--by tender angels to watch over you, and protect you from harm. Love, 'Zahc/Charles'
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