My life is bland, very bland. I have been going through many changes over the past months. Grieving a physical loss and revamping a 22 year old relationship. I am worn and tired. I rage in school at things that two years ago wouldn't have bothered me as much (but not at the children.) I expend energy at school and then I come home and sit on the couch watch TV. Doing things is just too hard. I am spent.
I want to cry, but I can't.
Since my father's death, I realize that on the whole, I am neither smiling nor frowning. I am worn out. Everything seems to be on a single dull level. There are days that I don't want to talk to anyone and would rather just watch TV. I have never not wanted to speak to people.
Whereas, I should be crying or frightened by what happened today, I am not. My back door was unintentionally left unlocked, I think this may have been for over a week. Well anyway, someone came into my house this morning and took my cell phone with charger. I didn't go crazy. I was glad that was all that was taken. I think I must have scared off the thief when I started moving around, probably heard the noise. Luckily it was the weekend, so no phone charges except apparently there was a use of the Web, but that was very minimal. Ironically, just recently I was thinking of upgrading my phone, but didn't want to spend the extra money. As things turn out, there was special from Sprint that could be used becaue of the set-up of my plan - cost of the new phone $0. Clearly a negative in this case turned out to be a positive. The police came over and took a report. I am not concerned about the phone as much as catching a petty thief. I will be reporting the numbers called to the police as soon as I the month's service clears, which is in a few days.
A friend came over with her son and we talked. She shared some from intimate writings with me. I held her and really felt her anguish and hurt. Oh what people do to other people.
I wish I could make the world a happy place for everyone, but I can't. I wish I could take away emotional pain - hell I wish that term didn't even exist.
So if you are in the neighborhood, I could use a hug and a little cheering up.
I have not felt like this in years. Years I tell you. I haven't sat immoblized like this in years. Years I tell you. I sit here crying. I haven't cried like this in years. Years I tell you. A lump in my throat. A heart bereft and torn with pain. I will never be whole again. I will mend and repair, but I will never have my father again and I sure won't have my daddy. My children aren't here. I am orphaned in New Orleans. At 56, I see my self as a balabusta in the kitchen, apron on (okay, I never particularly wore an apron), wooden spoon in hand and little ones, eyes wide open looking at me as I cook and bake with grandchildren.
I don't have grandchildren yet and I am not pressuring my children to have them even as one approaches the altar. I just want a sense of family. I have many friends, but I don't have family. We are spread thin on the bread of the United States, all in some ways attached by our heritage and yet not really touching.
I don't like feeling this way. I don't want to be unhappy and grieving, but I am.
I want my children to be happy and good. One is right now and one is not. I don't take credit for the good, but blame myself for not caring enough to see what I was doing to her when she was in high school. I tried, I really tried. I wish it could have otherwise, but it wasn't. I am so sorry for your pain. And as much as I am hurting, I would take your pain in a instant if it meant you'd be happy. And there is no absolution for me.
I can't stand being inside myself. I want to explode and let everything come out.
So I will stay the course. Each Sunday will be another Sunday to pass through. Each day, one day away from his death and one day further from his life, but each day I try to remember him. Each day I talk to him. Each day I want him. Oh daddy how much I loved you.
I really didn't expect to feel this way. I was totally happy to have the house to myself and spend the time cleaning and getting it back in shape. Instead my father, who is 92, was taken to the ER today. He is fine, a urinary tract infection, but I spent 4 hours in ER with him. I made the decision that they were not to probe him to find out why he had the infection. As I stated, "Even if they found a mass, they weren't going to operate on a 92 year old, so why even look."
I stood there and held his hand or rested my hand on his body as he cried, "Help, I want to die." He is tired of life. He is ready,but his body isn't. He has said just recently that the person he misses most is himself. It is hard to watch a parent turn from the person who has supported you all through your life to the body that will never heal again. I cried, with a sympathetic nurse getting me a box of tissues.
I am angry that the medical profession keeps people alive because they can, not because they should. Even speaking with the doctors and nurses - for those of you who know Karla and Jason Vincent, their mother was the attending nurse for my father - agreed with this. One of them even stated that she didn't want to be like my father was. I am sure that my father did not picture the last years of his life this way and if he had the means at this point he would commit suicide.
So I came home from the hospital, exhausted and hungry. Spent most of the day on the couch purposely falling asleep waiting to hear what was going on with dad. When I left, the UTI wasn't yet diagnosed. Called my brother to let him know. I want him to come here and relieve me of some of the going to see to my father. I told Elliot that I was sad that he hadn't come made plans to come here to see dad for the holidays and That I could use the relief. He asked if anyone, i.e. Allison or Meredith were coming here for the holidays and could take over. I told him that wasn't the same and no they weren't. This made me miss my family. This made me miss family. This made me aware of my solitude. This week has inextricably changed from what I had wanted to what it will be. I wish it were otherwise. The void that I am feeling is unfillable even with family. More and more I am accepting that my father is not here for me and he is the one who has always loved me unconditionally and still does.
I MISS MY DADDY!!!!!!
Summer started at the end of May and will last unti August 12 when teachers are expected back at school. It has been a quiet, relatively uneventful summer with the exception of a trip to Mississippi with the EB's (ladies group) and finishing my Montessori training for 6-9 year olds with certification. Yay I am fully certified.
I was talking with my brother, Elliot, who turned 58 today. He is healthy as can be. However, as I approach my 55th birthday in just 6 days, I am more aware than ever of how my Myasthenia will cut my life short. I predict that I will have about 20 years left. If the MG doesn't kill me, the drugs I take to control it will eventually wear down parts of my body.
So what does this mean. My younger daughter was in her late teens when my mother died. I was 24 when the only grandparent who was alive during my youth, died. If Athene gave birth tomorrow, I would live to see a grandchild reach 20, younger than either Athene or QueenCimmy. Reality says that the my oldest grandchild, whom I predict will be born in about 5 years or so, will be 15 when I die. I won't be able to do all the neat stuff that I can do now. I expect that the drugs and everything will speed up my decline.
So, maybe what I need to do, is start to camcording myself, so that I can leave a legacy. I don't know. It is scary. It is now that I wish I had had my babies at an early age. I wish I had had Athene and QueenCimmy when I was 22 and 25 respectively. I wish that their true loves would be equally as old - I wouldn't want to deprive them of what they have. Why this young, because by now I would be a grandmother and be able to give to my grandchild the legacy of my father and mother.
I feel so powerless.
I want to make things better but I can't.
It is no longer my domain.
I lost that as the calendar turned to a New Year.
I ache with each sigh that I know is being made,
with each pang of hurt that is inside those I love.
I cry silent tears and well up.
I am so sorry,
Please forgive me.
LSU beat Georgia yesterday. They are now ranked second in the country in football. They will play for the national championship on January 4 in the Sugar Bowl. I am not a gigantic LSU fan; however, the Sugar Bowl is in New Orleans. The madness has already started. If LSU does win, Bourbon Street will be absolutely bonkers. This is the biggest event in town for many years.
Got my hair cut today. I look cute.
Still being housed at temporary school location because of lead paint situation at Audubon Montessori School - (A New Orleans Public School) The anticipated three weeks is turning into two months, but the mantra is that everything will and must be perfect before we return to our grounds. I should say new grounds, the old lead ridden soil had been dug up and is in the process of being replaced by new soil sans lead.
So since the before Thanksgiving, we have been housed in temporary quarters that have large classrooms, but not enough of them. Most of the school is sharing classrooms. I share mine with another teacher is nothing short of wonderful. We team teach as much as possible. Looking forward to vacation.
Personal life is calm and quiet. Perhaps too much of both. Much of it centers around school.
It was chilly today in New Orleans by NO standards, not NYC standards. So I pretended that it was snowing out - looked at the pictures on the tv of the nor'easter that was ravaging the NE - and sat on my couch and knitted a scarf for a friend.
So I am sitting here at my computer inside a rather cold house - gas costs money - writing my first live journal. Thanks to Athene I now have this account. I don't know if I will actually use it much.