Rock, Paper, Scissors

Shared by a psychiatrist friend. Something to think about.

Anger, fear and sadness play scissors paper rock with each other.

In the absence of resentment, the sharpness of anger cuts through the blanket of fear; the blanket of fear comforts and soothes the rock of sadness; the rock of sadness hones the sharpness of anger.

With resentment, anger becomes rage, fear becomes immobilizing, sadness becomes despair.

But in the absence of resentment, anger becomes courage, fear becomes respect, and sadness becomes grief.

-adapted from Ernie Kurtz, The Spirituality of Imperfection

-shared by Steve Farmilant

Memories of Running Errands

Today I took myself to the Chicago Botanic Garden with the spring air close to 70 degrees and the sun brightly shining. Going to the garden always makes me feel a bit sad as it is one of the places that Gregory and I visited often and loved dearly.

When he was at Lieberman, I would go to the garden and cry feeling sad that I could no longer bring him there with me. When he passed, I left a little bit of Gregory Dust at the garden by the base of the waterfalls. Today I would swear that I could see some of him on the bottom of the drained for the winter shallows of the falls.

In the car this tape played, unasked, in my head as the tears fell:

While Gregory was maybe halfway into his Dementia/ Alzheimer's he was still able to stay home by himself, go out for a walk, or take a nap while I was gone. I could get out for a much needed break to run errands or shop by myself while he entertained himself alone at home.

I would say something like, "I'm going shopping, do you want anything special from the grocery store?" He would YEA or NEA and remind me to drive safely.

As his skills became less and as he had less with which to fill his days he would ask me where I was going as I prepared to leave my errands. I would say "Off to get some groceries," or "Off to the mall to buy some underwear," or "I have to pick up a prescription at the drug store."

He would, like my little 9 year old, ask, "Can I go with you?" 

Even thought I needed to get away on my own I would always reply, "Of course you can come. I always love when you go on errands with me. I'll help you get dressed." The two of us would take off, have a nice afternoon, and both of us would feel good at having been together.

For the most part, I was always good to him. For the most, I part always let him know how much I loved him, how much I appreciated him, how much I needed him. For the most part, we always enjoyed being together.

Now that he is gone, he is always with me, but I still hear  his voice asking, "Can I go with you?"

And I always reply, "Of course you can come. I always love when you go on errands with me."

And I cry and miss him so much but it makes me feel a touch better knowing I can always take him with me without much effort and without his even having to ask!

Death Hangs Heavy

On December 31, two days ago, we received a call from Gregory's niece Renee telling us that Mark, Gregory's brother, had suffered a major stroke and that only time would tell if he survived it or not. This after a previous smaller stroke, many over the years "resetting the heart" procedures, putting in a pace maker, removing the pacemaker in favor of a machine that basically ran his heart full time, being careful with his weight, taking his medications religiously.

It brings a heaviness to the air that one cannot completely describe. One that is yours to carry around during your day to day activities of living. You continue to live as he possibly continues to die. It reminds you of your own fragility as well as your continued strength. You feel a sense of sadness and fear yet numbed versions. Did I say a sense of helplessness. Pray? Not sure how that helps. Hold positive healing thoughts, sounds better to me.

So we continue to wait and hope try not to notice that shadow following us around the house.

                Unaware By: Michael A. Horvich (2010)

There is a fear

That lurks just behind

The awareness of your thinking

Hiding

The next moment

Will not be like this moment

Or the one before

Different

And with a comment

Or the ring of a phone

All will change

Forever