fatherknowsbest: May 2011

Monday, May 30, 2011

THEY'RE BAAAA-AAAAAAAACCCCCCKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This month, Jackie and I have been going through a sort of reverse empty nest syndrome. Our son John and our daughter Karen have graduated from college and are home for the short term, our oldest son Kevin has visited a couple times, and our youngest son Brian still lives with us. I've taken notice of a few things that have happened as a result of the children being here:
FOR INSTANCE..........
I am clearing the table and setting it for dinner, and it is obvious that it is being set for dinner because each seat has a  plate, a napkin, a glass, and utensils in front of it, and I can guarantee that someone will come in and put his or her car keys, purse, wallet, sunglasses, etc. on the only empty spot on the set table.
AND......
It's 94 degrees outside and humid. The kids decide to play Poker and invite us to play.  We are the proud owners of a house with central air conditioning and several tables, including one in the kitchen and one in the dining room. The children, however, decided that it would be great to play outside on the deck table.  So we played outside. Don't they know that 94 degrees and central air conditioning are synonymous in this house?
AND.....
Each time there is a lull in the activity and Jackie and I feel like we could relax, one of the children proclaims his or her bordom or restlessness. Don't they know that a little lull could lead to a power nap, which would enable more fun activity, and that Mom and Dad need a lull periodically?
AND......
Everyone in the house has a computer, whether it be a desktop, a laptop, a netbook, or even an phone with the Internet on it. So, during those lulls I mentioned before, everyone logs onto their electronic device to 'check his or her stuff.'
AND......
Some nights, around 9:00 or so, one of the young adults will come into the room and ask if we're doing anything that night. Don't they know that this fifty-something curmudgeon begins winding down at 9:00, and within a short time, depending if the television's on or not, is totally unwound!
AND.......
I am used to washing and drying clothes on my own time. Sometimes a load might be left in the dryer for a day until it can be sorted and put away. When the younguns come home with their laundry, and a load has been left there, they take it out and put it in the basket or pile it on top of a table while they take care of their business. By the time I get back to my duties, the clothes need to be dewrinkled.   This is not a complaint, just an observation. After all, they do their own laundry!
AND.......
The intensity of the children's life announcements has increased. Gone are the days in which we anticipated a move from middle school to high school, or high school to college. Now we have a son who will be married, one who will relocate, a daughter who will teach elementary school in an inner city school...no matter how much my father told me to expect the unexpected with the children, I was blindsided by their impending milestones....and sad....and happy....and proud!
AND........
The four siblings, AKA our children, talk in ways that we as parents will never understand. The older boys will recite dialogue from Star Wars or Star Trek in unison. The youngest two children will belt out a tune from their favorite show or the latest Lady Gaga song, or even harmonize to a favorite church song. The boys will tantalize the girl. The girl will hold her own and tantalize back. It's noise, and it's usually when that critical line in the show I'm watching is being said. Is having the extra bodies and the increased decibel level in our house making us crazy? YES!   Is it worth a little craziness, or seeing a little wrinkled laundry or some clutter? Is it worth hearing a little compaining, and concurrently anticipating them leaving the nest before we're ready for them to? Is it worth seeing our children wanting to interact with us and with each other when they come back home to see the old folks?
INDEED, YES!!

The Gathering..............

We're in for a rare treat today. All four kids are going to be here at the same time! Do I detect a photo opportunity? Yet another Christmas card picture? I'm being reasonable, right? I don't need to let go yet, do I? They won't balk at the thought of being on one last Christmas card picture, right? I'm gonna go for it, after all, they're only 26, 24, 22, and 17. Yeah, they'll protest and say that we have to grow up. Maybe we shouldn't even request that they pose. We shouldn't embarrass them by being the only parents in the neighborhood with grown children that still send photo cards of their kids at Christmas. It'll definitely make them cringe if we suggest it. It'll be torture for them. I say, let's go for it!.......................................

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It's now 3:22 in the afternoon, barbecueing is done, there are laughs, there is good conversation, good food and beverage, and I've have officially been given an emphatic and choral "NO" in response to my inquiry into a 2011 Christmas card picture. Even their Mom agrees that they're all grown up, and it's time for us to grow up too. They say we can take pictures of them as long as we don't put them on a Christmas card..............SCORE!!!!!!

Thursday, May 5, 2011

Happy Birthday...............To Janet…Did you know?

In tribute and in loving memory: My sister Janet, May 6th, 1949-July 9th, 2009

The piece below is not new. It was written in September of 2009, only a couple of months after my oldest sister Janet passed away after a courageously fought battle with pancreatic cancer. She was diagnosed in April of 2005 at age 55. Her cancer was encapsulated in a tumor in her pancreas, and she endured nearly half a day’s surgery, numerous cycles of chemotherapy and radiation treatments, loss of ability to eat, weight as low as 76 pounds, neuropathy in her hands and feet, swelling, and countless journeys to countless types of doctors. She was a survivor until the very end, always knowing what the probable outcome of the situation was going to be, but never losing the strength to fight the demon, and never losing the desire to keep up with her family and keep on living. She managed to squeeze in two trips to Europe, a Paul McCartney concert, an all-girl family excursion to New York City for a Broadway show, and much, much more. Finally, she just fell prey to the four years and three months of grueling procedures and chemicals and disease.

The initial months following Janet’s death were unbearably emotional. Though she often alluded to the fact that she was always concerned for the survival of her family, and that she knew that no one’s life was guaranteed, and the probability of her growing old gracefully was impossible, it was only a couple of weeks before that awful July day that Janet said for the first time to me that she probably would not get better. This Friday, May 6^th, will mark Janet’s 62^nd birthday, and though I’ve already shared this question filled poem on Facebook and with a few friends and family members, it is inexplicably important to me and I’d like to add it to this site. My everyday emotions for the few months that followed her passing are expressed in the words below.
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To Janet…Did you know?

Did you know that you’ve been the most compassionate person on Earth?

Did you know that I needed someone to talk to?

Were you ever anxious or upset or even happy about something?

How did you know I needed someone to just listen?

Why did you just listen to all I had to say?

How did you immerse yourself into my situation?

Why was yours always the perfect perspective, reaction, and advice?

Why did I always feel renewed and better than ever after your honest and sincere input?

Did you know that you’ve been the most courageous person on Earth?

Did you know that I was crushed when your cancer was diagnosed?

Did you know that I wanted to attack and destroy the cancer though I am afraid of confrontation?

Did you know I wanted to take the chemotherapy and light a match to it though I am afraid of fire?

Did you know that you’re my hero?

Do you remember that you never complained?

Where did you find the resolve to consistently try to beat the odds against the disease?

Did you know how I admire your refusal to succumb to cancer?

Why is it that fretting the little things is not important anymore?

Did you know that you’ve been the most intelligent and conscientious person on Earth?

Did you regret not going to college after high school?

Did you resent me for getting that opportunity you so desperately wanted?

Was the realization of your dream later in life everything you’d hoped it would be?

Did you know how awe inspiring you were as class valedictorian?

Did you know that you’ve been the most caring person on Earth?

Did you know that I noticed always your devotion to your own family?

Did you know that I depended on your constant nurturing nature?

Do you know how grateful I am that you showed your maternal self while I was a child?

Do you remember pushing the youngest sibling in a stroller with me and a crowd of my friends tagging along?

Were you aware that you became my companion, confidant, guide, and friend?

Did you know that you’ve been the best therapy on Earth?

Remember when you called me?

Remember when I called you?

Didn’t we converse constantly?

Didn’t you confide in me?

Didn’t I confide in you?

Did you feel me trying to show compassion and strength to you during the struggle?

Did you appreciate having someone to whom you could tell it like it was with this disease?

Did you know that your statement of the issues and the next course of action to fight the cancer were disturbing yet inspiring?

Did you know that your desire to know of my family and accomplishments and struggles in that same conversation was my therapy and the object of my admiration?

Did you know that those three conversations a week for all of my life were my therapy and my joy?

Did you know that you’ve been the most amazing person on Earth?

Did you know that you won the fight by surviving for more than four years with a disease that more commonly takes its victims in one?

Did you know that I wish I could hear that angelic voice just one more time?

Did you know that I wish I could see that smile again?

Did you ever wish there was no such thing as cancer and chemotherapy?

Do you know that I wonder how it will be continuing to live without the comforting constant of my oldest sister?

Did you hear me tell you that I love you?

Did you say ‘I love you’ back?

Can I be comforted in knowing that I will see you again?

Do you know that sometimes I worry that I won’t?

Didn’t you always do your best to be optimistic yet realistic?

Did I try to return the favor?

Did you know that I’m a better person for having had you as a sister?

Did you know that I was glad to see your suffering end?

Did you know that I will never be ready to say goodbye?

Do you know that I envision your unravaged spiritual presence guiding me through the days?

Do you know that I see you dancing with Dad in Heaven while the Grandmoms and Grandpops are watching?

Should this be comforting to me or do I really need you back here again?

Aren’t the rest of us blessed to know the comfort of family and friends?

Will it be enough to take the hurt away?

Will I think of you with dry eyes and a smile someday soon?

Will your absence ever stop being beyond belief?

Are you smiling and happy?

Do you know that I miss you terribly and will love you forever?
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I am blessed. As my family and I approach the second anniversary of Janet’s passing this July, we have had the opportunity to bask in the view of photos of a healthy gal, and stories of joy and shared memories abound, and it is slightly less often that something triggers the emotions of that early time.

Most days we survive, we laugh, we cry, we remember, we admire, we carry on with our busy routines. On the days that doesn't work, though, I read this and reflect and begin the process of healing again, and with each episode of emptiness, I feel a slightly quicker return to the everyday. For me, the passage of time, happy memories, and the duty and desire to carry on are a gift that can lie in the shadows of grief, but this personal sense of continuation of living and having faith is to Janet's credit, for she, I realize now, wanted no one to continue to mourn, but to fight to survive, much the way she did. There will never be another quite like her.

Happy Birthday my dear! I love you..............