Postscript

The last chapter of this story occurred last night when J came to visit me. He came bearing gifts. He brought me a new coffee maker, for no reason other than I needed it. He also told me he bought it before he read my post here. He said that he didn't want me to think he was presumptuous or trying to replace what I had (i.e. a gift from my father).

I am thrilled! His loving thoughtfulness brought tears to my eyes. I do not think he is at all presumptuous, I think he is thoughtful and generous. It has made me reflect how three of the most important men in my life all have blessed me and gifted me with the same appliance. (Is it that obvious I love my coffee?) On three different occasions, a gift of a coffee maker has touched me and pleased me more than perfume, jewelry or any other gift that is supposed to be so perfect for a woman. I am a practical girl, give me a practical, useful gift over a romantic one any day. (Well most days, J does spoil me with flowers from time to time and I love flowers!)

The act of making coffee has never meant so much. I will now think how lucky, and absolutely blessed, I am to be thought of, cared for and loved by so many wonderful men. Each of them in a different role in my life, but each of them equally important and cherished.

My father, my son

My coffee maker died this week. It had been taking longer and longer to brew a pot of coffee, making all kinds of noises. It was pretty old, I used it a lot. I knew it was on its last legs. I know it is rather silly to have an attachment to an appliance, but I am a little sad.

You see, it was a gift from my father. It was probably the best material gift he ever gave to me. My father was an engineer, that might not mean much to most of you. To me that meant he was practical and rather clueless at times. He never knew what would be a good gift for someone. When I was still living in my parent's home, I usually helped him choose gifts for my mother. After years of marriage, he still never knew what she liked or might need. He was a generous man, he did not skimp on money or time spent on a gift. He just didn't know.

When he bought the coffee maker for me, I was a single mom, working two jobs. I had a coffee maker that worked perfectly well. He bought it anyway and told me he got it because it had a timer. He said I could set the timer and coffee would be ready when I got up. At the time I thought I would have rather had something I really needed. But after using it for awhile, I appreciated the feature and the thought. That coffee maker lasted over ten years, I used it almost everyday. It made me think of my father every time I used it.

A few Christmases ago, my son bought me a coffee maker. It was a two cup (large travel mug type cups) coffee maker. It dispenses into the accompanying cups. Again, I already had a functioning coffee maker. He told me that he thought it was better, because I could make two cups, one to drink as I was getting ready for work, and one to take with me. At first I didn't use it much, but I have been using it more and more. It doesn't have a timer, but it brews quickly and makes good coffee. I appreciate it and his thoughtfulness.

This week, when I was a bit sad that my coffee maker broke, I thought about the similarities between my son and my father. My son, like his grandfather, is a hard worker, he is compassionate and empathetic. He is hard on himself and expects a lot from himself and other people. They both love dogs and hate to see anyone hurting or down on their luck. They were always close, my son and my father. My father doted on him and my son returned the affection. The other grandchildren in the family (including my other son) did not appreciate their grandfather. They found him to be judgmental and a bit socially inept. He was those things, but he was much more. My youngest son found acceptance, love and a strong male figure in him. He went out of his way to thank him and please him. He enjoyed doing things with and for his grandfather. Their relationship made the other grandchildren jealous. They did not understand his favored status, but they also did not want to spend time with their grandfather. I knew, in part, that my father was trying to fill a void that was left by R's father. I also knew he enjoyed the time they spent.

I will still think of my father when I make coffee. I will think of my father and my son and the special relationship they shared. I will think about their thoughtfulness in the wonderful gifts they gave me, both the coffee makers and the non-material things I have received from them.

Updates and reflections

Ryan, my friend's son, is recovering. He is home, but still cannot walk due injuries to his ankles. Those will heal, but the real damage is probably done to his psyche. He has faced the reality that life can change in an instant. That our actions and decisions can forever haunt us. He will live with the death of his cousin (and best friend) for the rest of his life. I am praying that he finds solace and gratitude in the fact that he was not also killed. I am praying that he find the strength to embrace the second chance that he was given.

The incident has given me pause, it has made me grateful for my own sons, for their health and safety. For their continued chances to get things in their life right. They are adults, but they are often unthinking and irresponsible. They are also often loving and thoughtful. I am thankful that I can be both the recipient of their callousness and their love. I am thankful for each minute I have with them.

As a parent and as a child, I have often made mistakes and have seen the effects of my actions on those that I love. I hope I have learned from the mistakes I have made. Often my learning has been tinged with guilt of not making the right decision. I have wasted a lot of time in regret. I am now learning to let go of regret and move on. Each day is a new opportunity, a new chance to do things right. Our focus should be on the present and future, not on the past. I appreciate my past, both the good and the bad. It has made me who I am today, but it doesn't define who I can be. I can be whoever and however I want. I can do all that I dream of doing.

Sometimes I have been to critical of others' mistakes. I have been short-sighted to the opportunities they still have. My boys can still realize their dreams, they can still be the men they want to be. They still have many chances to do things right. I can't fix their mistakes, nor can I offer them opportunities. I can still offer them advice, but I try to limit that to when I am asked. I can love them and believe in them and cheer them on. I can do that for myself as well. I am grateful for each day I have that opportunity.

Gratefulness

It seems I am only writing here anymore when I am rather melancholy. But writing is a bit of a catharsis for me, so be it.

Last night, one of my friend's sons was in a car wreck. He is in critical condition on a ventilator now. He is 22 years old, the same age as my youngest son. In fact the two of them used to compete in baseball. Ryan survived a tour in Iraq and returned home to his family and now his life is dangling. His cousin was also in the car, he is dead at the age of 21.

I cannot imagine what these mothers are going through right now. Except, I think that I can, this is every mother's fear and worry. We all have imagined it at one time or another. It is a reality that we sometimes forget. We forget when we get frustrated, or disappointed, or angry. We forget when everything is going well. Tonight, I am saddened, subdued and hurting for a friend. I am also grateful for my own sons. I am thankful that they are well and can be here to frustrate me, test me, anger me and love me. I am grateful for every single moment of stress and worry and frustration they have ever caused me. For if something ever happened to them, I would give everything I have to get one of those moments back.

Tonight, I am very grateful, for so many things.

Back to normal?

Thank you Louise and Shannee for your condolences. Life is returning to normal. My granddaughter actually did have to have a minor surgical procedure to clean drain the infection, she is now healing and recovering well. I have been dealing with my grief and it did help to cry it out that night. My routine is definitely changed now. There is no cat to feed or give a pat to. Of course I still have the three dogs who command and vie for my attention, but this is the first time in almost 20 years that I have not had a feline friend around. It is strange for me. Dogs and cats are most certainly different and I miss that interaction that I had with her (as demanding and conditional as it was). It has crossed my mind to get another, but my last four cat losses were very hard and I am not ready. I also really don't have the time and financial resources to devote to another animal.

I must say that I hate playing god. It is always a gut wrenching decision to know when it is the right time to end a life, especially when it is slow decline and not relieving total misery. Perhaps it was good that I had a major distraction on that day. Her passing was not nearly as peaceful as others that I helped cross over. Certainly it wasn't painful, but she fought so hard against it I had to second guess myself.

It makes me ponder the suffering we allow our human loved ones to endure, even when they are capable of voicing when they no longer want to deal with the agony of this life. After watching my grandmother, aunt and then my father suffer through what was known to be a losing battle, I wish I had the courage and the resources to help them end their struggle. I understand all of the ethical implications and the possibility of abuse, yet compassion is compassion whether an animal or a human being is involved. I absolutely do not understand why we, as a culture, can justify killing in war, but not help someone die with dignity. Perhaps I should be glad that I did not have to play god in those cases. However, a bit of regret remains.

I didn't even realize that it had been about three months since I posted here. I can give all kinds of excuses, but I am not going to. I just haven't had much to say, at least not much that I thought anyone would want to read. Maybe I still don't, but I am writing tonight anyway. J was here last night and it was wonderful. He made everything better. Tonight I am alone and I am exhausted and incredibly sad.

Last week my granddaughter was in the hospital. She had an infection in her neck, or should I say in a lump on her neck. Bottom line her lymph node was infected and necrotic and they thought it might be a staph infection. She spent several days in the hospital hooked up to IV antibiotics. She is home now and still on antibiotics (heavy duty ones), but she had to return to the emergency room last night and have the lump drained. I wasn't there, but I guess it was pretty hard on her. They had to make an incision and get all the infection out.

If I may back up even more...the day she went into the hospital last week, was the day I took my incredibly old, blind cat to the vet to be euthanized. In fact, I was on my way there, when my son called to say they were going to the hospital. I am very good at pushing my emotions deep inside and ignoring them. I pushed my grief about my cat to the side, so I could deal with the worry about my granddaughter. I was successful in doing that until today. Today I got home from work and got the mail in, I noticed something that looked like a card. I thought it would be something pleasant, maybe an invitation. Instead, it was a condolence card from our vet. I stood there looking at it for a moment as it all sunk in, I just began to sob. I am not a crier, but I have been crying on and off all night.

It is silly and I am mad at myself. I love my pets, I certainly have grieved deeply for an animal before, but I don't want this. I want to stuff it all back in and forget about it. She was old, she was sick, out of all the animals we have had, I was never particularly bonded to her. She didn't even like me when she was younger and she just tolerated me when she was old. But I cared for her. In fact I cared for her for 16 years. She was my son's cat, when he left home he left her here and I continued to care for her. When she became blind, I continued to care for her. In fact, I was careful not to move anything around and to stand and guard her food while she was eating (so the dogs would not steal it). I became much more aware of where she was at my feet, so I would not step on her or bump her. I brushed her when she could not groom herself anymore (at least as much as she would tolerate before she tried to bite me). She and I developed and maintained a routine and an understanding. She put up with me, because she needed me and I put up with her, because she reminded me of myself. We were both tough and we were survivors. In fact she was such a tough survivor that she hissed and spit at the vet in her last minutes and it took two injections to finally stop her heart. Maybe she knew, maybe she did not want to go gentle into that good night. Somehow I think I Dylan Thomas reference is appropriate for her (especially a poem about his blind father for my blind cat).

So I guess I will continue to shed a few tears for her tonight. I actually am releasing the events of the last week as I am releasing her. Because tomorrow life marches on and I must march on with it. Tonight though, I can cry for Cybil.

Observing Veterans Day

This just seemed appropriate today.