My dad passed away this morning at 9h15.
We love you Paw, forever and ever.
Rest now, in peace, and stay with us.
Forgive me, but I'll be gone for a while to South Africa.
.
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
Clandestine Affairs
The husband and I went for lunch at Loods5 yesterday.
First browsing through halls and more halls of lovely stuff, then coffee, water, salad and a hamburger for the husband.
It felt like the husband and I were having an illicit affair, sneaking away together for a stolen outing, sans enfants.
A good conversation about me, myself and my burn-out and how I deflect any mention of emotion with humour.
It's true.
I haven't felt anything in years, it seems.
I don't know how to fix this.
Meanwhile, my dad is losing his ability to chew or swallow.
He drinks minute amounts of liquid, will perhaps swallow a teaspoon of food at any meal.
His skin turns blue on his feet and knees, and my mother massages them back to a good, rosy colour.
I don't know what to say.
Tonight I'm driving to Utrecht to buy two second-hand Wassily Chairs for our empty living room.
But first kids to cart off to school, a day at work, then a meeting with my work coach, and home again for dinner.
Breathe.
Just breathe.
.
First browsing through halls and more halls of lovely stuff, then coffee, water, salad and a hamburger for the husband.
It felt like the husband and I were having an illicit affair, sneaking away together for a stolen outing, sans enfants.
A good conversation about me, myself and my burn-out and how I deflect any mention of emotion with humour.
It's true.
I haven't felt anything in years, it seems.
I don't know how to fix this.
Meanwhile, my dad is losing his ability to chew or swallow.
He drinks minute amounts of liquid, will perhaps swallow a teaspoon of food at any meal.
His skin turns blue on his feet and knees, and my mother massages them back to a good, rosy colour.
I don't know what to say.
Tonight I'm driving to Utrecht to buy two second-hand Wassily Chairs for our empty living room.
But first kids to cart off to school, a day at work, then a meeting with my work coach, and home again for dinner.
Breathe.
Just breathe.
.
Sunday, October 27, 2013
To See
We had a great night with the neighbours last night.
Good diversion from annoyances with children and between spouses and life and things we worry about.
Son#1 went for a sleep-over at a (tomboy-ish girl-)friend's house.
It's almost lunchtime and he's still there.
I guess it's going well.
It's raining in the Nether Lands today, and the wind is howling over the landscape, hitting us with a gust or two every now and then.
We are lethargic after last night's imbibing in spirits.
The will is there to go out into the world and DO something, but the flesh is a bit weak today.
I want to stay in my pajamas really, and read the day away.
Sigh.
In South Africa, my dad is drifting in and out of consciousness.
He eats nothing.
Is this the next phase in his process of dying??
He is angry and annoyed at times.
I spoke to him shortly on Monday, the 7th of October.
This was my last talk with my dad, and we talked about the medical costs that were climbing and climbing.
We spoke for about 2 minutes until I asked him to give the phone to my mother.
I thought there would be another opportunity to speak to my dad again.
How strange and foreign it feels to realize that this will never happen.
It's odd to realize that the grieving process has already started while my father is still alive.
My dad's sleepiness and confusion is the worst of all for my mother.
His body is still here, but his spirit is already departing.
Touch and go in this life, touch and go in the next.
And my mother feels the loneliness worst of all.
Being with someone, but being lonely, is surely the worst loneliness of all.
.
Saturday, October 26, 2013
Words to live by
Man's real home is not a house, but the Road, and life itself is a journey to be walked on foot.
Bless you, Bruce Chatwin.
You lived well.
Short, but well.
.
.
Friday, October 25, 2013
C'est Le Weekend: Danger ahead
Idiot woman.
I offered to help drive some of the kids in Son#1's class to a museum this morning and back.
Deep sigh.
Meanwhile, I'm still at home and almost on my way, and Son#3 is getting my goat a wee bit.
He just poured yoghurt on the napkins that he chucked on the floor.
Our weekend ahead is busy but peaceful.
A drink with the neighbours further down the road on Saturday.
A play date with my friend Karen for Saturday afternoon.
And the rest, nothing.
My darling dad is still the same.
He sleeps an awful lot.
I'm so glad the hospice nurse was there - my mother feels less alone, more able to spar with someone about my dad's requirements.
First, over-excited kids that need to be driven around.
Help me, help me, help me, Universe.
No good deed goes unpunished.
.
I offered to help drive some of the kids in Son#1's class to a museum this morning and back.
Deep sigh.
Meanwhile, I'm still at home and almost on my way, and Son#3 is getting my goat a wee bit.
He just poured yoghurt on the napkins that he chucked on the floor.
Our weekend ahead is busy but peaceful.
A drink with the neighbours further down the road on Saturday.
A play date with my friend Karen for Saturday afternoon.
And the rest, nothing.
My darling dad is still the same.
He sleeps an awful lot.
I'm so glad the hospice nurse was there - my mother feels less alone, more able to spar with someone about my dad's requirements.
First, over-excited kids that need to be driven around.
Help me, help me, help me, Universe.
No good deed goes unpunished.
.
Thursday, October 24, 2013
Me love you long time
Sigh.
Deep sigh.
If my house burned down today, I know exactly what and who I would grab and go.
The husband and cat too, but they don't like their picture taken.
Boring, huh?
.
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
It's a wondrous thing
Today was such a bloody crap day.
The day dragged on and on, and all my work would not get done.
I listened to complaining colleagues, drank tea and espresso, nibbled on my fruit and luckily thought to check my schedule to discover a forgotten meeting.
Sigh.
Then, home, I phoned my mum who had met up with Hospice nurse Jill - a kind, warm lady.
It will do my mother good to speak to a knowledgeable person with practical advice and warm hugs.
Nurse Jill thinks my dad has a ways to go still, that death isn't there yet.
But my mother wonders how much weight my dad can still lose, and live.
All this uncertainty.
What I can tell you with absolute conviction, is that I love my family.
The husband, the boys, the parents (and in-laws), the brother (-in-law), even the blooming cat who keeps peeing on the front door mat.
They are all gorgeous.
Gorgeous.
And just the thought of them, rights any wrong day.
.
The day dragged on and on, and all my work would not get done.
I listened to complaining colleagues, drank tea and espresso, nibbled on my fruit and luckily thought to check my schedule to discover a forgotten meeting.
Sigh.
Then, home, I phoned my mum who had met up with Hospice nurse Jill - a kind, warm lady.
It will do my mother good to speak to a knowledgeable person with practical advice and warm hugs.
Nurse Jill thinks my dad has a ways to go still, that death isn't there yet.
But my mother wonders how much weight my dad can still lose, and live.
All this uncertainty.
What I can tell you with absolute conviction, is that I love my family.
The husband, the boys, the parents (and in-laws), the brother (-in-law), even the blooming cat who keeps peeing on the front door mat.
They are all gorgeous.
Gorgeous.
And just the thought of them, rights any wrong day.
.
Saudade#1
Which perfectly matches my mood.
My mood would have been matched even more perfectly had we been living in Tarifa.
Kaftan-wearing, smiley, happy hippie-people.
I want to be one of those.
A day at work with lots (of backlog) to do.
I'm feeling a bit down, and I don't know if this is just normal or if I'm starting to get depressed.
Perhaps it's all just hormones?
Everything boils down to hormones at the end of the day.
Even depression (scary thought).
But.
Twenty degrees Celsius today.
Food on our tables.
Parents that still live.
Love in our hearts.
.
My mood would have been matched even more perfectly had we been living in Tarifa.
Kaftan-wearing, smiley, happy hippie-people.
I want to be one of those.
A day at work with lots (of backlog) to do.
I'm feeling a bit down, and I don't know if this is just normal or if I'm starting to get depressed.
Perhaps it's all just hormones?
Everything boils down to hormones at the end of the day.
Even depression (scary thought).
But.
Twenty degrees Celsius today.
Food on our tables.
Parents that still live.
Love in our hearts.
.
Monday, October 21, 2013
Just No
My dad has been calling out for his best friend, Dirk.
He calls my mother by another name.
My mother seems to also be in my anti-sleeping-stress-mode.
Not sure how much longer she will be able to manage physically.
This morning, my father came down with a stomach bug on top of everything else.
He eats next to nothing.
Doesn't move.
Isn't really here anymore.
I will never hear his outrageous stories of going fishing at the Durban Aquarium in the 70s.
Or laugh again how we climbed over the walls of the public pool to gather lychees by the bucket loads.
We will never sit, cracked up, in the dining room of the Splendid Hotel in Annecy, joking about how the super-dry air conditioning that supposedly turned my mother from a spritely 18-year old into a wrinkly old lady overnight.
We laughed so much that morning that I think the husband was embarrassed (were you, love?).
And I detach, detach, detach.
And feel guilty about it.
We're on this empty bus, and we don't want to go where it's taking us.
.
He calls my mother by another name.
My mother seems to also be in my anti-sleeping-stress-mode.
Not sure how much longer she will be able to manage physically.
This morning, my father came down with a stomach bug on top of everything else.
He eats next to nothing.
Doesn't move.
Isn't really here anymore.
I will never hear his outrageous stories of going fishing at the Durban Aquarium in the 70s.
Or laugh again how we climbed over the walls of the public pool to gather lychees by the bucket loads.
We will never sit, cracked up, in the dining room of the Splendid Hotel in Annecy, joking about how the super-dry air conditioning that supposedly turned my mother from a spritely 18-year old into a wrinkly old lady overnight.
We laughed so much that morning that I think the husband was embarrassed (were you, love?).
And I detach, detach, detach.
And feel guilty about it.
We're on this empty bus, and we don't want to go where it's taking us.
.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)