Allow me a moment.
Don't people understand that when they are in a car they are surrounded by 4 windows. You know, those things you see through. Why is it that things go on in the car, with people all around, that should only be happening in the privacy of a bathroom. Let's get it out and over with and say that any facial orifices-finger probing should not be happening as well as any pore clearing activities. Especially in bumper to bumper 4 lane highway type situations. Hey, your windows aren't that dirty!
Several years ago I would wait daily in front of a large Junior High School, with about 50 other cars parked within viewing distance, for my son to get out of school. Daily, the same woman would park, again, with the same 50 cars around her, and pluck her facial hair. For about 10-20 minutes. Every day. Every day for 10-20 minutes she would pluck facial hair. I am no mathematician but isn't that about 50 to 100 minutes a week? Every week! I can only imagine the little hairs flying around the car. Maybe she should figure out a way to donate to the follicley challenged. She seems to be a great prospect.
An older woman in our neighborhood shops on a regular basis with curlers in her hair. One day I will see her at the dry cleaners, the next the post office, three days later the grocery store. She must have an incredible night life as I have never seen her without curlers in our daily activities. The question comes to mind that if she cares enough about how she looks to put curlers in her hair then why does she go out with them on? And for what activity are they for? In my odd thought process I have decided that she dressed up for her husband each and every day at 5:15 right before he walks in the door. Maybe she really does have the right idea, of course this would be in the world I created for her.
I had a coworker who every Monday, about 15 minutes after getting to work, would then decide that his fingernails were too long and begin clipping them in his cubicle. Did they grow on the way to work? I assume he spent the weekend with them so what happened between the 72 hours he had been away from work and the 15 minutes upon arriving at work?
I was at work today and a man was talking very loudly on the phone in our lobby. I was waiting to escort a client in so stood a reasonable distance away from him as I do think myself to be a polite person. When he mentioned the 'weird porn he saw last night' and my head inadvertently turned, he gave me a dirty look, said to the person on the other end that he had to go as 'someone is listening in' Hm. Aren't I the naughty one!
I think my moment is over. Now I am guilty too- sharing my publicly private moments publicly.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Thursday, June 10, 2010
My Grandmothers Death..........or Life.
On Saturday, May 29th my grandmother and grandfather had just celebrated my grandfathers 92nd birthday with cake, cards and the company of my parents. As grandma was picking up the table she suffered heart failure and fell. For those of you who have read my blog before, my grandfather has advanced Alzheimers and is pretty confused on a day to day basis but made his way out to the nurses station in their care facility and let them know that Grandma fell. Grandma officially died two days later, after being declared brain dead the day before.
Although we all miss her terribly we know she had a wonderful, long, rich life. My Grandmother was someone to emulate, someone who everyone remembered as the person who always saw a silver lining in every rain cloud. Someone who, when her children complained about their children always stood up for them and reminded them that children are supposed to make mistakes so they were doing just as they should. This was a life we were to celebrate, not mourn. The part the family is mourning is my grandfather and his confusion with all that is going on.
The day she died my uncle took my grandfather to her hospital room to say goodbye, everyone wondering how much he would know and remember. He was clear and focused and very aware not only of what was going on but displayed unusual clarity about their past. He talked to her about how it was time for her to go, how much their wonderful life meant to him, how they had been married for 70 years and how much he loved her. Without any prompting he talked to the Dr.s and nurses about specific details of their shared 70 years. The man my Grandfather was was there again. It was a wonderful, magic moment.
Now, every day since her death he looks for her. Every day, several times a day, he asks someone where she is and every day he mourns her death all over again. He cries and tells us that they had a wonderful life and how he should have been first so that he could finally take care of her. He carries a picture of her in his pocket and takes it out every so often to look at it and tell whoever is around what a beautiful woman she is and how much he loves her. Then he looks on the bakc of the picture to see if anything is written about who it is. Grandpa will at times tell someone that he thinks he had a bad dream and ask someone to confirm it. Even though the family is accepting that it was my grandmothers time to go the grief comes from his grief each time he has to hear, for the first time each time, that his beloved bride of 70 years is no longer with him. In his grief and sadness he has not once lashed out at anyone, or asked 'why me', or had a mean word for anyone. He cries and talks about how wonderful she was and that he would not change one day in his life. He tells his family that his further joy will be in them living full, wonderful lives. Grandpa has been a trooper. He happily spends the night with different people, goes to family gatherings with a smile. Is generous with hugs and greets grandkids and great grandkids with a 'who is this beautiful young lady/ handsome young man' (even to me at 48). He is a love, and not just for that as he has also told me ' look how big you are now'. I could be mad but how- he looks at me as a kid.
My grandmothers quality of life had changed in the past 6 months and she was in a lot of pain and at 89 her ability to take care of my grandfather was sketchy. My mother and her brothers were having to make the tough decision, with her knowledge and protests, that her and my grandfather were going to be moving into the full time nursing care portion of their facility. She had the final say by not having to do this. I always loved that stubbornness about her. Even though the head tells you one thing the heart tells you another.
At this point my grandfathers heart is fully engaged. Due to a terrible disease his head is not so he must have his heart re broken every day. The silver lining- is there one? Of course there is- thank you Grandma- is that there is a love so deep at 92 that he only sees the good, he cries every time, and he looks at a picture of this woman he doesn't know that he knows (at age 87) and thinks she is beautiful and somewhere, somehow, KNOWS that he loves her.
Although we all miss her terribly we know she had a wonderful, long, rich life. My Grandmother was someone to emulate, someone who everyone remembered as the person who always saw a silver lining in every rain cloud. Someone who, when her children complained about their children always stood up for them and reminded them that children are supposed to make mistakes so they were doing just as they should. This was a life we were to celebrate, not mourn. The part the family is mourning is my grandfather and his confusion with all that is going on.
The day she died my uncle took my grandfather to her hospital room to say goodbye, everyone wondering how much he would know and remember. He was clear and focused and very aware not only of what was going on but displayed unusual clarity about their past. He talked to her about how it was time for her to go, how much their wonderful life meant to him, how they had been married for 70 years and how much he loved her. Without any prompting he talked to the Dr.s and nurses about specific details of their shared 70 years. The man my Grandfather was was there again. It was a wonderful, magic moment.
Now, every day since her death he looks for her. Every day, several times a day, he asks someone where she is and every day he mourns her death all over again. He cries and tells us that they had a wonderful life and how he should have been first so that he could finally take care of her. He carries a picture of her in his pocket and takes it out every so often to look at it and tell whoever is around what a beautiful woman she is and how much he loves her. Then he looks on the bakc of the picture to see if anything is written about who it is. Grandpa will at times tell someone that he thinks he had a bad dream and ask someone to confirm it. Even though the family is accepting that it was my grandmothers time to go the grief comes from his grief each time he has to hear, for the first time each time, that his beloved bride of 70 years is no longer with him. In his grief and sadness he has not once lashed out at anyone, or asked 'why me', or had a mean word for anyone. He cries and talks about how wonderful she was and that he would not change one day in his life. He tells his family that his further joy will be in them living full, wonderful lives. Grandpa has been a trooper. He happily spends the night with different people, goes to family gatherings with a smile. Is generous with hugs and greets grandkids and great grandkids with a 'who is this beautiful young lady/ handsome young man' (even to me at 48). He is a love, and not just for that as he has also told me ' look how big you are now'. I could be mad but how- he looks at me as a kid.
My grandmothers quality of life had changed in the past 6 months and she was in a lot of pain and at 89 her ability to take care of my grandfather was sketchy. My mother and her brothers were having to make the tough decision, with her knowledge and protests, that her and my grandfather were going to be moving into the full time nursing care portion of their facility. She had the final say by not having to do this. I always loved that stubbornness about her. Even though the head tells you one thing the heart tells you another.
At this point my grandfathers heart is fully engaged. Due to a terrible disease his head is not so he must have his heart re broken every day. The silver lining- is there one? Of course there is- thank you Grandma- is that there is a love so deep at 92 that he only sees the good, he cries every time, and he looks at a picture of this woman he doesn't know that he knows (at age 87) and thinks she is beautiful and somewhere, somehow, KNOWS that he loves her.
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