My friend, A, is dying.
This hurts. It has hurt for her and all of us since she was diagnosed and my heart continually breaks as I enter a new stage of grief in this process. My heart breaks knowing that since her first surgery, she has not had a life, she has been butchered and tortured, and smothered by her loved ones.
I am trying to figure out the meaning of all this. A and my father-in-law (died in February) are/were not spiritual people. I am not saying that we all need to believe in God. I dabble in my half-assed belief and still can't stand and deliver on the faith thing. But, having a spirituality on some level is better than despair. The despair is as real and hard as the cancer that invaded both of them. My father-in-law, while not ready to die, was at least equipped with the knowledge that he was older and had lived his life. A, on the other hand, is younger than I am. She is the symbol, the poster-child of the unfairness and utter meaninglessness of it all. Really. We all needed her around for at least another 20 years. I'm being generous, here, Providence!
I realized that A is the first friend that was close to me to die of disease. Slowly, agonizingly, and with total awareness. Other friends I've lost have been through accidents, freakish things that plucked them suddenly and dramatically from life. In those instances, we were sad and shocked, but somehow able to feel immune to it. It was not us. It was them. They who died by accident. With A, I'm realizing that I could get cancer too. I could die. Children are left without a mother or a father a LOT. I'm noticing this, more and more--friends who lost a parent when they were young. This scares ME. It becomes about ME. The lost of my friend, but also the lost of the great, wonderful, necessary me. I feel so selfish and horrible when I think this.
I'm trying to learn. I'm trying to learn the right words to use. I have made many mistakes. I am trying to live my life and be funny without seeming like I don't care. This is so hard. I'm trying to teach my kids to keep their comments to themselves. They do not. I'm trying to understand the complexities of the family dynamic. I don't like getting involved in these things. I think about my crazy early years where I lived and worked around people like me: free, healthy, disconnected, clueless. Those days are over. We have entered a new phase that includes death, deteriorating bodies, and much pain.
I used to wish and pray for immortality. Now, I pray for peace.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Death in the Family, Part II (current)
It's been over a month since my father-in-law passed away. The initial rush of it all seemed to go rather smoothly for us all and it seems like we all got back into day-to-day living pretty quickly.
Every time we see my mother-in-law, she is shedding more of Phil's things our way. We were touched to go through the contents of his wallet: photos of his kids, notes to himself, and a worn piece of paper with "I PHIL GRAYSON LEAVE ALL MY WORDLY POSSESSIONS TO MY WIFE, JANE." It was dated the year 1968. My father-in-law was unsentimental and whenever possible deflected conversation to his facts on Hollywood history, his latest political obsession, or various tidbits from what he had been reading. On occasion he talked about the old days in Torronto and he had a regular schtick of sound bites from being in San Francisco in the 1960s. Mostly, he had the same menu of things to quip and he repeated them. A lot.
So the contents of the wallet was touching to us. No money. Just pieces of what he really cared about.
***
The other day, David received an email from a perspective agent interested in Phil's scripts. This made David tear up.
***
Another box of items from Phil revealed silent photos of him with his first wife along with the paperwork where they legally changed their last names to Grayson from Bloomberg. We always knew he changed his name but did not know he did it with his ex wife. Mysterious.
***
Every time we see my mother-in-law, she is shedding more of Phil's things our way. We were touched to go through the contents of his wallet: photos of his kids, notes to himself, and a worn piece of paper with "I PHIL GRAYSON LEAVE ALL MY WORDLY POSSESSIONS TO MY WIFE, JANE." It was dated the year 1968. My father-in-law was unsentimental and whenever possible deflected conversation to his facts on Hollywood history, his latest political obsession, or various tidbits from what he had been reading. On occasion he talked about the old days in Torronto and he had a regular schtick of sound bites from being in San Francisco in the 1960s. Mostly, he had the same menu of things to quip and he repeated them. A lot.
So the contents of the wallet was touching to us. No money. Just pieces of what he really cared about.
***
The other day, David received an email from a perspective agent interested in Phil's scripts. This made David tear up.
***
Another box of items from Phil revealed silent photos of him with his first wife along with the paperwork where they legally changed their last names to Grayson from Bloomberg. We always knew he changed his name but did not know he did it with his ex wife. Mysterious.
***
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Death in the Family, Part I (a flashback)
I never thought that the first real dead body I'd see up close, with no frou-frou dressings would be my father-in-law (post on this to come, but this flashback came out). I grew up watching people die, but was never there for the moment. And, frankly, it's been a long time since someone in close proximity has died. Family members die far away and I buy a plane ticket for a funeral. Or not. There are many I have missed. My last big funeral was my Aunt Diane's. It was very sad. We all still miss her terribly. I saw her as she got sicker, but when I arrived that last time, all I saw was her coffin, closed shut, with a photo of her on top.
We're mostly Catholic and she was Southern Baptist, so it was different than the funerals we had growing up. But, we still had it. The ritual. Without any big gaps waiting for an 'appropriate time' or godless remembrances. She passed away, we came. Right away. Aunt Diane, dying of cancer, and becoming even more faithful in the process, was able to plan her last party, complete with a healthy dose of fire and brimstone proselytizing to all the Catholics in the audience who were thumbing rosaries in secret. She was very worried about us, about our very souls and because she loved us, it seemed a heaven without us all with her, wouldn't be heaven at all.
But, the constants were there. We were in the Church that she took me when my Uncles was out of town and she could skip out on Mass. I knew nearly everyone there. The tiny country Church was packed to the rafters with family and friends, some who had also traveled from their own far away settlements. I even saw my sixth grade band director.
After the funeral in Raceland, filled with preaching and good old timey gospel music, we went home, took a breather, and drove nearly two hours north to Central Louisiana, in a tiny, tiny town where we buried her with her family in a lovely old graveyard. At the chapel, we listened to yet another sermon about how we needed to accept the Lord Jesus Christ as our personal savior and more old timey music. We laughed. A lot.
Years earlier, Aunt Diane went back to her childhood faith without expressing any judgment on her adopted Cajun family. While she raised her own daughter, she dutifully took her to Mass and sent her to Catholic school. But, after some years of feeling lost, before she got sick, she went back to her old timey place, and we all feel that she found herself again and it was that true faith, one that didn't express judgment on those around her that gave her peace, right up to her end. It was profound to see.
After the second funeral and the burial, we all went to the church hall for a traditional southern post-funeral feast. One that she would have appreciated all the more. Aunt Diane's family are a gregarious bunch and they joked and told stories even while they cried. Photos were taken out and we laughed some more. My Aunt was famous for slipping photos of herself when, she gave you a frame as a gift and many people never put other pictures in those frames.
It was a healing process. And we grateful to share that time. In my family, when you marry into it (often even if you get divorced and remarried), the inlaws become one and through the years we felt just as much a part of her sisters and brothers and I hope they felt the same way about us.
My aunt died in Nov. 2005. We all still miss her and talk about her as if she'll show up at a crawfish boil, bringing her famous brownies. Or, Thanksgiving, her cornbread dressing.
We're mostly Catholic and she was Southern Baptist, so it was different than the funerals we had growing up. But, we still had it. The ritual. Without any big gaps waiting for an 'appropriate time' or godless remembrances. She passed away, we came. Right away. Aunt Diane, dying of cancer, and becoming even more faithful in the process, was able to plan her last party, complete with a healthy dose of fire and brimstone proselytizing to all the Catholics in the audience who were thumbing rosaries in secret. She was very worried about us, about our very souls and because she loved us, it seemed a heaven without us all with her, wouldn't be heaven at all.
But, the constants were there. We were in the Church that she took me when my Uncles was out of town and she could skip out on Mass. I knew nearly everyone there. The tiny country Church was packed to the rafters with family and friends, some who had also traveled from their own far away settlements. I even saw my sixth grade band director.
After the funeral in Raceland, filled with preaching and good old timey gospel music, we went home, took a breather, and drove nearly two hours north to Central Louisiana, in a tiny, tiny town where we buried her with her family in a lovely old graveyard. At the chapel, we listened to yet another sermon about how we needed to accept the Lord Jesus Christ as our personal savior and more old timey music. We laughed. A lot.
Years earlier, Aunt Diane went back to her childhood faith without expressing any judgment on her adopted Cajun family. While she raised her own daughter, she dutifully took her to Mass and sent her to Catholic school. But, after some years of feeling lost, before she got sick, she went back to her old timey place, and we all feel that she found herself again and it was that true faith, one that didn't express judgment on those around her that gave her peace, right up to her end. It was profound to see.
After the second funeral and the burial, we all went to the church hall for a traditional southern post-funeral feast. One that she would have appreciated all the more. Aunt Diane's family are a gregarious bunch and they joked and told stories even while they cried. Photos were taken out and we laughed some more. My Aunt was famous for slipping photos of herself when, she gave you a frame as a gift and many people never put other pictures in those frames.
It was a healing process. And we grateful to share that time. In my family, when you marry into it (often even if you get divorced and remarried), the inlaws become one and through the years we felt just as much a part of her sisters and brothers and I hope they felt the same way about us.
My aunt died in Nov. 2005. We all still miss her and talk about her as if she'll show up at a crawfish boil, bringing her famous brownies. Or, Thanksgiving, her cornbread dressing.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Someone get a cattle prod
I'm already bombing on my resolution to blog once a week. I'm still bogged down with trying to find a voice, figuring out what to write about and tick tick tick, time flies by and while I'm overthinking this damned thing, I don't write. No more illusions of grandeur. No more caring that anyone reads my blog. I want to write. I need to write. If something spews out on this blog thing, then I can revamp it and send it to a "real" publication. Right? Right.
This photo is from 1975, I think. I'm about 10 and a half years old and it was taken at my Aunt Nelwyn's first wedding. My mom and dad are so young. In 1975, my dad was a mere 31 and my mom 29. Amazing. They look so cute. My brother is two years younger, but, as you can see, we were roughly the same size...until puberty hit and he got beanstalky. Later, he bulked up.
I don't think I got much taller, being the runt in the family. But, alas, I bulked up too!
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Thanksgiving Prep I: Sweet Potato Crunch
By default, I'm in charge of bringing the "Orange" food to the Thanksgiving table. One dish is a tradition and is required (and I'm told that my safety is not guaranteed if I don't); the other one is one I'm going to adapt from one of my favorite dishes. First, today, I will give you the tried and true recipe. It was my grandmother's. It's actually quite simple and not exactly unique to the Creole kitchen, but as I've gone beyond the Mason Dixon line, I've passed it along to people who just love it. I really don't know why people put up with gross sweet potato recipes.
Here it is:
Sweet Potato Crunch
(in memory of Virginia Eliser)
3 cups peeled, cooked, mashed sweet potatoes or yams
3/4 cup white sugar
2 eggs, beaten
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 stick butter, melted
1/2 cup milk (or buttermilk for a slightly different flavor)
1/2 tsp vanilla
Topping
1-1/2 cups brown sugar
2/3 cups flour
2 cups pecans, finely chopped
1/2 stick butter, melted
Combine sweet potatoes, sugar, salt, eggs, butter, milk, and vanilla in a mixer and mix until smooth. Pour into 9"x13" greased casserole. Combine ingredients for topping and spread over potato batter. Bake in an oven preheated at 350 degrees for 35 minutes or until topping has set. Serves 20.
What I really love about this recipe is that is states that it "serves 20" indicative of how big our portions have gotten over the years.
I rarely have leftovers.
Here it is:
Sweet Potato Crunch
(in memory of Virginia Eliser)
3 cups peeled, cooked, mashed sweet potatoes or yams
3/4 cup white sugar
2 eggs, beaten
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 stick butter, melted
1/2 cup milk (or buttermilk for a slightly different flavor)
1/2 tsp vanilla
Topping
1-1/2 cups brown sugar
2/3 cups flour
2 cups pecans, finely chopped
1/2 stick butter, melted
Combine sweet potatoes, sugar, salt, eggs, butter, milk, and vanilla in a mixer and mix until smooth. Pour into 9"x13" greased casserole. Combine ingredients for topping and spread over potato batter. Bake in an oven preheated at 350 degrees for 35 minutes or until topping has set. Serves 20.
What I really love about this recipe is that is states that it "serves 20" indicative of how big our portions have gotten over the years.
I rarely have leftovers.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Nine Years Married
Let's face it, I was no blushing bride.
David and I were married at a beautiful old mansion in San Francisco on November 18, 2000. On that night, we felt so much love, it would make your average cynic sick to death. I was 35; nearly 36. Laid off from a dot com ad agency job.
I cradle-snatched David. He was just over 30. What a baby!
We went into this marriage with eyes wide open. We were beyond fairy tale notions and from the get go, we fostered an equal partnership. This was further solidified when I was laid off one week before the wedding. I had these firm ideas about keeping our money separate, about two careers. Losing my job right before we made our public vows, seems to pull us in together, as one.
And you know what? It worked. We really are a team. Nine years later, I still love my man and can't imagine life without us together, a solid corporation with our two little underlings clammoring for attention.
It's good. I'm happy to be here nine years later with this walk down the aisle being the smartest thing I ever did!
David and I were married at a beautiful old mansion in San Francisco on November 18, 2000. On that night, we felt so much love, it would make your average cynic sick to death. I was 35; nearly 36. Laid off from a dot com ad agency job.
I cradle-snatched David. He was just over 30. What a baby!
We went into this marriage with eyes wide open. We were beyond fairy tale notions and from the get go, we fostered an equal partnership. This was further solidified when I was laid off one week before the wedding. I had these firm ideas about keeping our money separate, about two careers. Losing my job right before we made our public vows, seems to pull us in together, as one.
And you know what? It worked. We really are a team. Nine years later, I still love my man and can't imagine life without us together, a solid corporation with our two little underlings clammoring for attention.
It's good. I'm happy to be here nine years later with this walk down the aisle being the smartest thing I ever did!
Monday, November 16, 2009
Lifestyle Changing
After a year in the doldrums, I think I am officially in the process of making some significant lifestyle changes. Some of the lifestyle changes have been foisted upon me these lovely times we live in: I've been pretty much unemployed with the occasional freelance project since may and other situations in our lives have me back to living as well as we can somewhat impoverishly. Some, I have to implement myself. The crazy circumstances we found ourselves in, caused me to send any kind of healthy living into the toilet. This means that my high hopes of losing weight this year, pretty much did not materialize. I didn't focus on it for anything after May. Until then, I had actually dropped 10 pounds.
It took awhile for us to figure out the shift in our economic lives. But, we've managed to stay afloat and at the 11th hour, it turned out I could get unemployment. That was nothing short of a miracle. But, now, we can make it. Miles is socked away at kindergarten half days and Audrey gets to attend her preschool once a week in exchange for odd jobs that I do for them. I also found a pretty cool mommy and me class in the 'hood where we sing songs, play, do crafts, and learn things. I like it.
I have hit a nice rhythm with domestic life. I clean the house, do the laundry, run the errands, prepare the healthy mom dinners. It's not so bad. I like it, even. I don't really WANT to work right now unless it's on my own terms. This last part is a bit difficult. I've had a few interviews but nothing has happened yet. I am getting freelance projects as it seems the economy improves. Truthfully, freelancing is the best thing for me right now. We'll see.
I got things in order enough, I was finally able to focus on what I always put last on the priority list: myself. I just can't ignore the weight I've gained and the utterly crappy way I feel toting this excess baggage around. This propelled me to begin going to the gym again and to walk sheepishly back to my Weight Watchers meeting.
Ugh.
As usual, I wasn't able to lose all my weight in one week. Damn that! But, I have to say, I'm slowly doing the things I'm supposed to be doing. Cutting out the stuff, watching portions, exercising. And, it's great. I love it. My hope is to cross this god-awful birthday I have coming at the end of January 20 pounds lighter than I was on October 27. We'll see. In the meantime, I'm finding some rather tasty healthy recipes. Who knew cauliflower with cumin and lemon zest roasted in the oven would be so delish.
It is.
It took awhile for us to figure out the shift in our economic lives. But, we've managed to stay afloat and at the 11th hour, it turned out I could get unemployment. That was nothing short of a miracle. But, now, we can make it. Miles is socked away at kindergarten half days and Audrey gets to attend her preschool once a week in exchange for odd jobs that I do for them. I also found a pretty cool mommy and me class in the 'hood where we sing songs, play, do crafts, and learn things. I like it.
I have hit a nice rhythm with domestic life. I clean the house, do the laundry, run the errands, prepare the healthy mom dinners. It's not so bad. I like it, even. I don't really WANT to work right now unless it's on my own terms. This last part is a bit difficult. I've had a few interviews but nothing has happened yet. I am getting freelance projects as it seems the economy improves. Truthfully, freelancing is the best thing for me right now. We'll see.
I got things in order enough, I was finally able to focus on what I always put last on the priority list: myself. I just can't ignore the weight I've gained and the utterly crappy way I feel toting this excess baggage around. This propelled me to begin going to the gym again and to walk sheepishly back to my Weight Watchers meeting.
Ugh.
As usual, I wasn't able to lose all my weight in one week. Damn that! But, I have to say, I'm slowly doing the things I'm supposed to be doing. Cutting out the stuff, watching portions, exercising. And, it's great. I love it. My hope is to cross this god-awful birthday I have coming at the end of January 20 pounds lighter than I was on October 27. We'll see. In the meantime, I'm finding some rather tasty healthy recipes. Who knew cauliflower with cumin and lemon zest roasted in the oven would be so delish.
It is.
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