December 31, 2010.
Looking back over 2010, this may just be one of the most defining years in my life.
It started in January with the memorial service for my dear Uncle Rhett, who passed suddenly of heart complication. He actually passed in October, but donated his body to UCSF medical center, and his friends, all poets and artists, put together an unbelievable memorial celebration for him in the heart of the Tenderloin district, one of the most dangerous areas of San Francisco. In fact, Rhett had lived there for years when he was jumped and beaten brutally in the 1980's which resulted in hospitalization and surgery. In later years, he moved to the Hayes Valley district of San Francisco. However, his heart never left the Tenderloin district, which was where he met lifelong friends. He was a true Bohemian, but not the wannabe, in your face, screw the system manner in which so many young people define themselves. He wrote. He painted. He saw the BEST in human nature, something that never changed, even after his beating. He lived his life quietly, never married or had children. He had a book of his poetry published which I cherish, but I must admit, most of his poetry is difficult for me to understand. He was a man who was not of this world in many ways. He was the youngest of four brothers, and my Godfather. I believe he saw and understood pure love, pure beauty, and the miracle of life perhaps better than anyone I'd ever known. His service was lengthy, he had so many loyal, wonderful friends. After everyone was spoken, a meal was served, and I believe at least one woman simply walked in off the street and loaded up a plate. Initially this appeared so rude to me, she didn't know my uncle. However, looking around, this was a community that was completely open. If you need food, come in and eat. If you need shelter, come in and rest. None of Rhett's friend's even blinked at the presence of this stranger. The location, I must admit, is a place that scared me. Mike and I opted to take Madeline, but not Stephen since he was so young. Upon arrival, we had to navigate around a huge, fresh puddle of urine. Upon departure, we had to walk in between two people on the sidewalk who were clearly in the middle of a drug deal. It's a place of unbelievably poverty, drug abuse, crime, and hopelessness. But it's where my Uncle's life and artistic work flourished, as it did for his friends. I believe that if a nice, clean hall had been chosen instead to hold the memorial, he would have been most disappointed. I've never known another human being like him. Heaven is a much richer place with him in it. I miss him.
Later that month, I was given a very generous invitation to join my sister in law and some friends to a trip to Las Vegas. It was to take place over the weekend of the 21st, which was my dad's 80th birthday. My dad's dear friend Adam had tried to organize a party with friends, but it was nearly impossible to orchestrate, and a date was never nailed down. I'd just been down to see him the month before and couldn't afford another flight (Las Vegas was being paid for). So I chose Las Vegas. I talked to him on his birthday, but it wasn't the same. And of COURSE, in retrospect, I would have gone down there instead, but I had no idea what the future held. I did have an epiphany though. While I loved the company I was in, I don't like Las Vegas. It's incredibly depressing. Young girls dressed like prostitutes, drunken, drunken, drunken folks everywhere, and old people, seemingly chained to the slot machines, reeking of cigarette smoke and desperation. Don't get me wrong, I had fun. It's just not my scene. I saw Jon Stewart was going to be there in the couple weeks that followed and was sad. Being as I'd marry Jon Stewart in a heartbeat if I were single, I would have made the sacrifice to go see him. But it was not to be.
In February, Mike and I decided to take an additional trip to Disneyland, alone. We'd taken the kids a couple months before, and it was fun, but it's just different going alone. We've both always loved the place, and had an amazing New Year's there in 1995, the year before we were married. This time we flew to Orange County and rented a car. The weather was hit and miss, and I knew we wanted to go visit my dad. In good traffic, it's only about 45 minutes or so. We got there, and although we'd seen him in December, he looked different. Although he'd been confined to bed for nearly four years, he was always well groomed, and this time, his beard had gotten out of control and had grown down his neck. I asked him about it and he said, "Do you want to shave it for me?" Absolutely not...I had a totally traumatic experience several months earlier trying to simply clip his fingernails! But his skin was smooth. His eyes were clear. I showed Mike a drawing of my father from 1934 that he'd never seen, which is the spitting image of our son Stephen. I handed it to Mike, who immediately said, "Holy shit!" and took pictures of it with his phone to send to his family. Today it hangs in our living room. At the time Dad was on so many medications, and I think the cure was often worse than the disease. The steroids made his arms black and blue and purple, and his arms looked like a Halloween decoration. His thighs were about the size of my upper arms. "Honey, I look like a cadaver!" So weird to think back now, he was mere weeks away from becoming one in reality. He was such a proud man, bordering on vain at times. He was not up to long visits, we probably stayed an hour. When we left, he said to me, "Honey, I just wish I could breathe." "I wish you could too, Daddy. I love you, and will see you soon." Walking down the steps, I began to tear up. Mike asked if I was okay, and I said, "Yeah, it's just hard." That was the last time I saw him, and in a way, I think I knew that. Dad had a to-do list. He'd said for months that he at least wanted to make it to 80. He also said he'd wanted to watch the DVD of Rhett's memorial, which he had with my sister at some point recently. A couple weeks later he called to wish us a Happy Valentine's Day. This was slightly odd...families acknowledge different holidays, and Valentine's was not one we'd ever really recognized. We had family over, celebrating a birthday. I talked to him, but felt that I had to cut it short because we had guests. "I love you, Daddy, talk to you soon." That was the last time I spoke to him. And I know now, he was calling to say goodbye.
Less than a week later, my mom came to visit to see the kids, but also to go and see the Sandhill Cranes land. When she lived here, bird watching was something she often did with Madeline. Mom, the kids, and myself set off in the late afternoon to see the cranes. It was FREEZING. I hadn't seen this before, and it really was something to see. Beautiful. They all fly in together at dusk, (chirping? cawing?) to each other as they land. Sometimes they "dance" together, which is part of their mating ritual. We took pictures of the cranes, and the kids, and there was an awesome sunset that night, which I got a picture of. I felt odd at one point, looking at the sunset...as though I were having a "moment". The next day in the late afternoon, I got a call from my brother that Dad's nurse called and said he needed to come over right away. "What's the date today?" he asked. We'd had DOZENS of these calls over the years, so it was impossible to know when to become TRULY alarmed. Upon hearing of his little brother's death the prior October, dad became so upset that he was rushed to the hospital, and honestly, I thought that was when he was going to go. But he hung on. So predictions were useless. About 15 minutes later, my brother called me back and said, "He passed away." It was February 21, he was 80 and 1 month exactly. ?????????? What? For all the times I prayed for Jesus to take him, and I loved him so much and hated seeing him miserable, he was GONE? Wait!!! I want to be there! I want to say goodbye...he'd been sick so long we'd had dozens of goodbyes, including a letter I wrote him two years before. I believe my words to my brother were "Okay. What am I supposed to do now??" I told him I'd book a flight and be there in the morning. I hung up. My mom was still visiting, which was very awkward being as they'd been divorced since I was 3 and she was not exactly a fan. She was somewhat paralyzed...she didn't know what to do. I walked into the back room and called my sister to tell her. Her first words were, "Oh, poor Jun is out of a job!" That was Dad's nurse. I couldn't get my dad's dear, close friend, so I texted him. I don't think I called or texted my best friend back east, it was late in NY. I called my other best friend and left her a message. She called right back, but we didn't talk long, I told her I was going to clean the shower. She said, "You do whatever it is you need to do right now." Suddenly, I felt that cleaning the shower was the most practical thing I could possibly do. So I did. I don't even remember if I cried. While in the shower, my mother came charging in. Our bathroom is totally open to our bedroom and our shower doors are glass, and I was IN the shower, cleaning at the same time. She said she needed Mentholatum because her nose had begun to bleed. "The air is so dry here." ????? Ummm, can you give me a minute? I can't say my mother is unemotional, but she rarely visibly emotes. She'd been with us for over two days and her nose was fine...I'm convinced that her nosebleed was a physical reaction to the news of the father of her children dying, yet she couldn't even hug me. When I got out of the shower, after delivering Vapo-Rub (all we had) to my mother, my dad's dear friend called crying. He drove over to my father's house immediately to say goodbye although he was already gone. I flew down the next morning and met up with my siblings at my dad's dining room table. His empty bed in his room was a terrible sight, but luckily I think that we're built for grief in a way. I was numb. We decided to aim for April for the service, a week before I was to turn 40. Grand. My sister and I went to the mortuary to arrange the cremation. The next day, I went to the church to arrange the service. We all began to go through his things, but we didn't do any of it together. I went through his closet, which was a tangle of decades of dog hair and dander and old dusty clothes. My father's dear friend came over and brought us both lunch and I gave him some of Dad's things. We went to the park for awhile and talked. My brother said he'd come by to help, then come by to say goodbye since I was flying home that night. When I called to let him know it was just about time for me to leave, thinking he'd come by, he said, "Okay, have a nice flight!" My brother was suddenly all business, no emotion. My sister arrived about ten minutes before I left, but this wasn't her fault...her family was in the process of moving and she'd had to attend a meeting about getting her daughter into a magnet school. When she realized I'd been going through the closet alone, she said how sorry she was and gave me a huge hug, which was sincere and comforting. Overall though, it was odd. I felt alone. I had thought that the three of us would have spent more time together during this time, and it just didn't go down that way. My sister was going to witness the cremation the next day, which was something she offered to do, and was something I knew I could NOT do. I encouraged her to have someone with her, she'd originally planned on doing it alone. However, her husband and our dad's nurse both accompanied her, and she was grateful for the support, I believe.
It wasn't until I was on the plane to come home to my own family that I began crying. As the plane began to back up, I felt that I was deserting him. I cried, hard, during the entire flight. Luckily I had a row to myself and the attendants left me alone. I sobbed like a crazy person on the drive home, screaming cries, like a toddler. I wanted my Daddy. My husband was waiting for me, I was still sobbing, saying crazy things like, "I have to make him proud of me!" He just held me and said, "He IS. He always has been." He died on a Sunday evening, I returned home on Tuesday morning. I feel like I stared at the wall for a couple days and then returned to work. To add to the surreal-ness of the situation, we'd planned weeks ago that we would be hosting my lovely niece's baby shower that very Saturday. So on Saturday, I was on total and complete autopilot. It was nice...I only remember a few people who were here...did we cook anything? I vacuumed. I just don't remember!
March was a blur. And I had an "Oh crap!!!!" moment when I realized my son's 5th birthday was the 9th and we hadn't planned anything!! We managed to piece together a family party and a party at the bounce house at an odd time, because it was the only time left. I felt awful, but it went fine. The remainder of March, besides working and caring for my family, revolved around contacting as many old students of my dad's as possible, and planning the ceremony, choosing the scripture, trying to write what I would say, and making approximately 89 phone calls to let people know he'd passed. I must have gone back and forth with the church regarding my dad's memorial a dozen times, from how many speakers there would be, to the assistant consistently getting things incorrect, to trying not to take personally the fact that my siblings don't share the faith my father and I shared. There were so many emails, back and forth, on how things might be done. The three of us are so different, and rarely totally agreed on much. It was SO MUCH WORK. I don't know that I've ever been that worn out, that fatigued, and that "soul tired" in my entire life. I started to lose weight. I had to take the dress I'd chosen to a tailor to be altered, but I still had to find fabulous shoes. I had a lot of people asking me how I was. My stock answer was, "Okay. It sucks." Reading the posts on my father's memorial page FB had me in tears on nearly a daily basis. I didn't know how much he did for the kids he taught in high school...the unconditional love and interest and support he showed me, and my friends growing up was not limited to just us, it was for everyone. I really, truly didn't realize the depth of this. In the midst of all of this, my beautiful niece delivered a beautiful, healthy baby boy. I'd been on her case to get it rolling...I remember telling her, "I need a little happy, can you tell him to hurry it up?"
April came. Dad's memorial was the 17th, and it went beautifully. I love what I wrote for my speech and meant and mean every word still. The outpouring was amazing. It was a blur, that day. And I felt tremendous pressure, to look perfect, act perfect, BE perfect. But what struck me the most, were the amazing blessings I have in my life. Grace in the midst of unbearable pain. The friends of mine, you know who you are, who came from New York, Hawaii, Idaho, Fresno...in addition to friends from Pasadena that I hadn't seen for decades. Unbelievable. I also learned that grief is sometimes so overwhelming, someone very close to me just couldn't face it head on right away. She'd lost her own father a couple years before, and she didn't make it to the service. Although angry and hurt at the time, I came to understand, and forgive. My husband's family all came down...I felt as though I had an army of supporters. SO lucky. SO blessed. We returned home, and exactly a week later, I turned 40. Boo. While I'd thought of going to see The Black Eyed Peas, or a trip with a friend, or a big party at the house, I no longer wanted to do anything. It was a Sunday, and my friends at church knew I was over it, so I got a lot of whispered "happy birthday!"s. A couple weeks later, I went to the women's retreat at church and discovered something else about myself. I'm not a big group kind of gal, I think I'm better with people one on one. I'm not crafty. I don't do karaoke. And while I did get something out of it and broke the CARDINAL rule of not sobbing in public, as well as received the love and support of two amazing ladies, I don't know if I'll go again. Too much....and maybe a little too soon to really have perspective.
May arrived, and while I had mixed feeling about it, I went out with my friends from work to belatedly celebrate turning 40. As I was walking out the door, I received a phone call that upset me. So I took more anxiety medication. The evening progressed, hallmarked by some of the worst decisions I'd made in a long time. I was so angry about the year, I was so wanting to just feel normal and party and FORGET about fucking everything. A combination of medication and alcohol (yes, alcohol), resulted in me becoming violently ill and I threw up all over Sacramento. I later discovered I could have had seizures and ended up in the ER. My poor friends desperately tried to sober me up, toast and water...to no avail, I was shaking and couldn't stop and couldn't stop throwing up. It was quite a glamorous way to turn 40, I highly recommend it...I wish I had photographs. Around 2:30, I receive a text from my husband, "Are you okay?" For those of you who don't know, my husband and I don't drink....it's a pact we made before we were married because it was a problem for both of us and had resulted in DUI's, etc. So I knew I was up the creek...I had to text back, "No. I can't drive. Friend is driving me home." I got this response: "WHAT?" Crap. I came home to a very angry, betrayed husband. We talked....I was still not in my right mind. He slept on the couch. Sometime during the night, he came back to bed, hugged me, and I'm pretty sure he was crying. I scared the living daylights out of him. Not just for the night, but for our future, for our family. We both grew up in alcoholic homes. Drinking used to be a HUGE part of our lives before we were married. We'd seen firsthand how drinking affected our friends and nearly destroyed their families. I think he was terrified I was going to start all this up again and the family we'd always wanted and HAD would be ruined. What he didn't know, was I GOT THE MESSAGE. The next morning, we drove into Sacramento to retrieve my car. And, because Amgen and Lance Armstrong were racing, my car...was gone. Towed. Fabulous. Kids asking, "Why didn't you bring your car home, mom? Where is it now?" LOW, LOW point. Both of us had to be late to work Monday to get my CAR out of the towyard, which HE had to pay for (I just didn't have it). My car also had my laptop and testing materials in the trunk, including loads of confidential information...and I continued to feel as though I'd been hit by a truck for about 3 more days. My husband had not yet gotten me my birthday present, which was to be a tattoo that means "God is King". Although after this experience and having to pay over $200 for my car, he said, "there's your birthday present." Couldn't say I didn't deserve that. In retrospect, I'm 100% convinced that my dad and Jesus had a sit down...I picture it at a conference table (?) although I'm sure they both would have chosen somewhere more aesthetically pleasing, like a garden or a forest. Yet, I still see a conference table, a big one, yet only the two of them are sitting there. Dad asks, "Okay...what can we make happen to Jane tonight that will be bad ENOUGH for her to get the message that she CAN'T EVER drink, but not so bad that someone gets hurt or her marriage is affected to the point where it can't be fixed?" I think Dad chose me getting drunk and sick out of my skull, and I think Jesus threw in the car being towed. To both of you, THANK YOU!!! It was horrible. But it truly had to be that bad. I'm done with alcohol, it's just not a friend of mine.
In June, I drove alone back down to my father's house to pick out the things I'd like to have, that would fit in my car. A friend of mine is storing a chair. It was one of the most depressing trips I've ever made. The house was empty and cold, piles of boxes and pictures and random furniture. There were still white roses in a vase from his memorial two months before, but they were all browned and dead. I was staying with dear friends who were not at the best place themselves...I meant to stay two nights, but stayed only one, never wanting to get home more. Oddly, I didn't see my brother or his family either, even though they knew I was in town. I took the few things I'd taken from Dad's, and put them away, under the bed, in the closet, out of sight.
In July, the kids and I had three weeks off. We did a lot of swimming, trips to the zoo, trips to the river....My sister in law did a lot of this with us, along with the kids' cousins. And I could NOT enjoy anything. I went, I smiled, I took pictures...but just couldn't enjoy. It was not a good feeling, and I started to wonder when I was going to be able to enjoy anything again. The kids started school late in the month (my boy in K!) and I worked extra days, not only for extra money, but to occupy my head.
August I don't remember much...when someone passes, there is so much BUSINESS to take care of, especially with finances. Nearly all of these responsibilities were thrust upon my brother as an attorney and the executor of his estate. I don't think he even knew how much it would entail. We met with a financial planner to help us navigate all these little accounts that were popping up, like from the VA. I'd all but forgotten dad was EVER in the military, albeit drafted during Korea, and he never was deployed. Unless you really stop and think about it, just because something is left to someone in a will, it doesn't mean they HAVE it. For instance, Dad left his grandchildren money for college. He didn't already have it saved and put aside...it'll have to eventually be distributed out of his overall estate, which won't happen until his house is sold and all his other accounts are settled. No one knows when this may happen. Work kept going, and I did my best to keep going. During this entire period of time, I mostly learned the art of autopilot, switching my brain off, and just kept moving. Certain songs make me cry like a madwoman, missing my dad. So I downloaded them, and would schedule my mourning. I'd tell my family I needed some alone time, go out by the pool with my ipod and sob.
September. I continued to throw myself into work and leading a Bible study, which again, I felt I was participating in and leading underwater...I just wasn't there. Another niece gave birth to a beautiful healthy baby boy named and my darling 6 foot something tall 19 year old nephew, who was the ring bearer in our wedding and who I've adored since he was 3 left for boot camp in the Marines. This happened in the same week...it may have even been within a couple of days of each other. I took the exam to become a Licensed Educational Psychologist after going through a long application process and studying for months and FAILED IT. They actually print out a page with your picture on it, and the word "FAIL" is next to my face. No way. Ka-BAM!!!!!!!!! What? I've told myself that I needed a little humility, and this was a good way to get that message across, but I'm still upset about it! I haven't failed at something in a really long time, especially something that I put my full effort into. I still need to take it again. I remain bitter.
The dear friend of my father's who is now one of my closest friends came for a visit at the last minute, which was a blessing and an emotional need of mine I couldn't have predicted. He was medicine for my soul at that point. My dad orchestrated my friendship with him when he was alive. When Dad knew I was coming to visit, he'd call his friend to come over so we would bump into each other. We're both convinced he KNEW we'd get along and would comfort each other in his absence, and he was 100% correct. I enjoyed every moment with him, and consider him one of my most cherished friends on earth. I can never repay all he did for my father, or thank my father for introducing us. I feel like I've known him for 20 years. I love you, dude, you know who you are. You ARE my family and always will be. And know that that delights King to no end!
October arrived, and we'd decided to give my daughter an early 10th birthday present of getting to go to the Justin Bieber concert with me. It was the most fun, and the most joy I'd felt in a VERY long time. Seeing her face, singing along, explaining the whole concept of an encore... Remembering how awesome it was to be young and how exciting concerts were. That moment right before the act comes out and all the arena goes black and everyone screams. Loving the fact that she still liked doing things with me, as I know my days could be numbered. Admitting, ahem, that Justin Bieber is a talented kid and I actually enjoy some of his music. A moment like that will never happen again. It was awesome, and a blessing. There is a song of his I truly like, and when it comes on my ipod or in my car, never fails to make me smile. A big, listening to Depeche Mode outside of the Rose Bowl in the rain smile with my best friend in high school, a Duran Duran at the Coliseum smile, a Prince concert in high school smile, a REM and Sade at the Shoreline in college smile...so many awesome memories. And how FAST youth goes!!!!
November. Because of finances, another close friend and I weren't sure that we'd do our annual SF shopping trip, but we made it happen. Hell, she'd turned 40 the month before, we'd officially been friends for 21 years. I just didn't shop as MUCH. Before I left, my sweet husband gave me a generous wad of cash, 7 months after my birthday...he was finally ready to give me a gift, it just had to be in his own time. Later in the month, we went to my brother's in Pasadena for Thanksgiving. The evening was nice, but overall it was difficult. My brother's expectations and rules for the holiday were ridiculous, and inhospitable. I felt as though I couldn't do a single thing to please him, and the spirit of the holiday was gone. For me, the worst part was that no one mentioned dad. Before we ate, there was no prayer, no words, no moment of silence. My sister and I had kind of expected someone to say something, but assumed our brother would take the lead since it was his home. It didn't happen. Pasadena has not been home for me for many, many years, but it feels that way even more so now that dad is gone. We got to see some dear friends. One of the most important things, to me, was to see the plaque commemorating my father's ashes in the church in which his memorial was held. However, the church was locked for the duration of our visit, and I was unable to spend any time in that room with my father's remains. This broke my heart. Pasadena is an amazing place, and was a wonderful place to grow up. But it isn't home, and I can't even estimate when I may be down again, so this was a blow. I just wanted to spent time with him in that room. But it didn't happen. We learned when we returned that Gray, one of Dad's other brothers died the day after Thanksgiving. Months before, I had spoken to him on the phone, expressing how difficult it must have been for him to lose two brothers and his wife within 6 months. So he cashed it in. I don't blame him. I keep picturing people knocking on front doors...Dad and Rhett and Peggy going to answer, and seeing their loved ones unexpectedly. What joy that must bring!! What are you doing here??? And not pearly gates...a front door. I don't know why. I picture Heaven as the most comfortable, warm, open hearted home you could imagine. Perhaps because that's what my father's home was to me.
December arrived. Here we are. My baby turned 10. I have finally been able to begin framing pictures of my father, as well as other things that I took from his home.We visited Sassman's farm and I left an ornament for my dad. Christmas, which I dreaded, being the first one without him, was one of the happiest in recent memory. My in laws love me unconditionally and give me wonderful support...One niece was home from Tahoe with all three kids and boyfriend, and is doing 100% better, I'm so proud of her. My other niece and her husband and their beautiful boys hosted. My nephew, home from boot camp, and his sweet girlfriend was there with him. Everyone was together, healthy, happy and PRESENT. Later, we went down to dear friend's house, which we do every year. They're our second family. SO relaxed, so casual, but so filled with love and acceptance. Their children are incredible and I so enjoy their company. I've continued to shrink...kind of trippy. This year I've gone from a 10/12 to a 6. I'm not complaining, just somewhat perplexed. I eat, take lots of vitamins, but have lost my sweet tooth entirely and just look at food differently. I still enjoy it, but mostly look at it as something I need to do to live...weird. I'm healthy.
I'd prefer to not have another year like this, but I truly believe I have learned a lot about myself and the world.
- I am not above total and complete failure and backsliding. I could lose the amazing life I've built for myself in a heartbeat if I choose to make stupid decisions.
- Great souls never die, and they come in so many different forms. From a lovely neighborhood in Altadena to a pee-stained sidewalk in the Tenderloin.
- The friends I have are the most amazing people on the planet, and I love you all. You have all BEEN my family, when my own family life was so challenging when we were all growing up. People turn to all kinds of things in high school when their family isn't optimal. You guys were my salvation during that time.
- Grief wigs people out...there's no right or wrong way to do it, and you have to give people space to do it in their own manner. It's frustrating, and can hurt, but it's not up to me.
- I've had to re-evaluate a lot of my relationships in my life, and it's a good thing. Who feeds my soul and supports it? Who sucks from it and takes every iota of energy from it? As I sometimes say, "Sometimes you just need to clean house."
- I can listen and respect other points of view without having to agree with them.
- It's important to shy away from making arrogant statements or insisting on being right. I've observed this more of late than partaken of it, but it has certainly underscored what NOT to do.
- When in doubt, take the high road. This often requires silence. Silence isn't ignoring, it's a pause. Pause, and breathe. Then determine if a response is even necessary.
- Love is everywhere, and doesn't die when a person dies. I felt my dad's overwhelming love all day Christmas Day.
- Life is SHORT. Try to enjoy, treat the people you love well. Be kind. My children will be in their teens and then be adults in SECONDS. I will try to stop the million things I have to do to truly enjoy their beautiful spirits, and my father's spirit in them.
- During the hardest year in my entire life, Jesus has not left me for a SECOND. I praise Him and know He's with me, always. Thank you.
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