This is in the back of my head, probably even more-so than my siblings, most likely since I have had a fear of my parents dying since I was really young. My parents were older when they had me, a little bit more unusual than it is today, and it was a frequent topic of conversation. At one point a school acquaintance saw me and my father at the all, and thought he was my grandfather. The notion of them being so much older always caused me to worry about losing them. I frequently had nightmares as a child of them dying. I was in my late 20's when Dad passed, 14 years ago today. Every time I go to a wedding and see that the father/daughter dance is about to commence, I excuse myself; it's a little too difficult for me to witness. I think about what life would be like if my father was around for my kids all the time. He was such a terrific grandpa - it is such a loss for my kids to not have him. They don't know what it is like to have someone so jovial and funny go out of their way for them like he did. He was the type of man that made everyone feel like they were his favorite; he was adeptly skilled at how to make people feel special. I try to fill that void for my kids since really there is no one to step up and take the place of them having grandfathers. I admit to being indulgent and wanting to give them things not yet worked for.
I tried to repay Dad for all he did for me when he was alive - but I was just starting out didn't have a ton to offer. I will always be happy to know I helped him by his first brand new car. Doing things for Mom has been tricky for me. When Pops first died, we organized a trip to Paradise Island - she still will talk about it! As her health began to fail, it was things like taking her out to dinner, fixing things around the house, and gift cards to favorite stores and restaurants. I have felt guilty that for the last three years, I have been able to take my dear mother-in-law to NYC to a show and dinner for the day, something her, Sophie, and I love. I haven't been able to bring my own mother, who I also know would love it, but would be unable to withstand the required walking in NYC. So this year, I was able to get show tickets for White Christmas, playing right here in Syracuse. I was so excited that I was going to take my mother to a show! And then the day came, and when I called to check on her, she was wary of the trip and the venue, and decided against going. I was able to find a replacement to take her ticket, and the show was very good - she would have loved it. But it was hard for me to enjoy, the intent had been lost. It caused my heart to ache.
It's so hard for me to do things for Mom right now. Zach is a ball of fire - needing to be carefully watched, having little support to help, working and going to school, attending to the house, the husband, and Sophie too. There is no time left over - in fact, usually, there is time carved out of sleep and caring for ourselves to get those things done. I am torn right now, knowing it's her last years and I am not really able to do much to bring her any joy. Guilt plagues me daily.
Christmas was nice - filled with lots of festivities, parties, eating, get togethers, eating, shopping, eating playing, eating... Steve and I struggle at this time of year. Steve, because it is so heavily ladened with memories of his father who adored Christmas, and mine because it was when my father passed - a week or so before Christmas throughout the New Year spent at Crouse Hospital ICU.We tend to spend the holidays by staying very busy - trying to keep the kids active and our brains not focused on our sorrows. Zach doesn't appear to love Santa - but did allow him to rock next to him.
I will carve out the time and spend it with Mom. I realize that it won't be how I want it to be; I can see that we are approaching a sunset. I also need to carve out more time for us - I think filling life with all this work all the time does offer a sense of purpose, but I finally have come to the realization that repression is a real thing in my life.
With Aunt Cindy in town to offer up a little help, Steve managed to take some time off, and we were able to go to the updated Carousel Mall, now known as Destinty USA. We are not mall goers, but without the sense to know where to go for eye glasses, we thought we would just hit the Lens Crafters there. Steve has been wearing and old prescription for almost 2 years now, all after an incident with his old glasses. A friend's teenage son, who has autism, took Steve's glasses off of him while visiting their pool, and threw them into the bottom of the pool. Upon retrieval, they were thoroughly scratched. He didn't have the heart to tell the boy's mother, nor did we have the insurance coverage to purchase another pair for the year. So time marched on, and life got too hectic, too hectic for Steven to even think to go the following year and replace his old glasses.
Steve's vision, particularly in one eye, is pretty severely limited. I have known for many years, that one of his dreams would be able to not require glasses, but with present technology, that is not possible. He tried contacts in the past, after several fittings, he realized his astigmatism was too severe for him to ever be comfortable.
So here we were nearly 2 years later, getting those new glasses ordered. As the sales people helped him pick out frames, we then sat down to pay for these bad boys. All of a sudden, I was overcome with emotion, and sat their tearing in the middle of the eye glass store at the mall. I knew two things at that moment: Steve and I neglect ourselves too much too often, and despite our strained relationship, I truly love my husband. It felt like a relief to go and be together without children. It felt sad to realize that my husband's comfort and vision were being neglected because of the constant needs we are attending to.
If there is one thing I learned from my parents, it's that a good parent will sacrifice for their children. If there is another thing I learned from observation, it's also important to recognize that we are part of humanity and need to treat ourselves with the kindness we wish to treat others with; after all, we are not taking care of Zach and trying to help others as a flagellation or other form of punishment. We are doing it because of the love in our hearts and the desire to share this love. Tears in the eye glass shop made realize these lessons, something I hadn't known about myself or believed in. I am still surprised at all the lessons to be learned at this ripe old age.
14 years and I still miss him so much. I heard Steve crumple a shopping bag this morning and thought of him.(Pops was a chronic shopper and could probably taught a course in consumer economics with his coupon prowess!) I wish I could ask him what he wants for me to do to make sure these years count for Mom. He hasn't come to me in my dreams in several years now. I guess his passing reassured me of a lesson that he had always lived, not to take this time and those you love for granted. Love you Pops.
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