Last night as he was leaving, my father in law hugged me and had tears in his eyes. He said "I just want to say..." and he looked away, "you've got an air about you."
I smelled my armpits and told him I'd be more careful with the roll on antiperspirant in the future.
He kind of laughed and said, "no. I mean, with people. You have something. Watching you talk to people at the graduation and then the neighbor kids in the yard and playing with them with the dog. You just make people feel so comfortable. Those kids wanted to tell you everything they think and know. And your neighbors coming over to see you. You just have something."
Never have I received a bigger compliment.
He left and I went upstairs to get ready for bed. I've always loved my father in law. He's a character. And I adore spending time with him. I told Doug what he said and he agreed, "it is one of the things I love most about who you are."
Anyway. I want to always be that person, that my Father in law talks about me being.
It was hard not to cry myself to sleep.
In other news... My son graduated from High School this weekend. That's the only other big important thing that has happened lately.
Some of you (3 maybe) have followed his tales through this blog and other places over the years. This is a special moment. I never doubted he'd graduate. But it was a long road to get here, wasn't it?
I talked to the parents of a girl who used to sit next to Geoff in first grade and my fondest memory of their daughter was how helpful and loving she was with Geoff because he had no concept of boundaries. The end of my desk is the beginning of yours and I should not put my stuff on your desk? What? Watching all these kids, some of them he was close to back in the day and others who he is close to now, walk across the stage and take their place as No Longer High Schoolers in this world.
The Eagle ceremony was the "big" event. But this was super nice. And look. He smiled for a picture.
Yesterday, Geoff took Brodie for a long walk. He has taken her on this walk many times, but for some reason, yesterday was not a good day. It wasn't really that hot, but she started to struggle. About a half mile from the house she just laid down by the side of the road panting hard and fast, her eyes bloodshot red, and she wouldn't get up. He tried to coax her up... and started to dial my number on his phone. He didn't quite know what to do.
A woman had passed him, and turned around, came back and offered him a ride. Now, most kids might say no - I'm calling my mom, but Geoff agreed. She was half his size, no possibility that she was looking to abduct him or hurt him. She opened up her hatchback and Geoff lifted Brodie in. They were at the house in a matter of minutes and Doug began hosing her down with the garden hose.
Bringing her inside, she laid down on the rug and was just not doing well. I got to google the heat stroke first aid and we figured she needed to be put in the tub after we took her temperature and it was 105 degrees.
Cool water in the tub for her to be in, and cups of water poured over her head. Eventually she started drinking the water too, which was a good sign.
We got her out of the tub and she stumbled around drunk-like. She flopped down on the floor on the shower curtain (which Geoff had dramatically torn off the wall to get the tub accessible. I had to laugh - dude. Shower curtain moves to the end of the tub but ... whatever).
We let her sleep on the floor for a while, checking in on her. Doug put the air conditioner in the window in our room, and brought her in the bedroom with him.
For the rest of the day, she walked around with her tail between her legs looking like she thought she did something wrong. I felt awful for her, and then coming here to my friend's house all I can think of is how Brodie is doing...
A couple of years ago I reconnected with a college friend on the Facebooks, you know, like you do.
My friend has advanced cancer of the colon and I think the liver. She vanished from Facebook for over a year and a lot of people on a regular basis were calling out to her ... are you there? hello? anyone? can someone get us an update?
She updated us that she was in and out of hospitals, receiving treatment. but nothing was working. I got a text from her one day saying she was in the hospital, she wanted to see me. So I went.
She is in great need of 24 hour care but only gets partial care. I won't go into what she has to do on a regular basis, but she's incredibly uncomfortable and just really wants to be admitted to hospice and finish this life.
Hospice cannot admit her, she's not at "that point" yet. She was not receiving the kind of care she wanted from one hospital so she went to another hospital, not for more treatment but just to try and get relief from her pain and discomfort. The second opinion from the other hospital resulted in the decision that she needed a surgical procedure to try and widen her colon to allow her to more successfully go to the bathroom. That procedure was done last week and she came home from the hospital yesterday morning. She asked me to come be with her on the overnight. I had told her I could be available on the weekends to help her out and I think she heard "I can stay every weekend."
She was in a panic when I told her that I wasn't sure that I could come, so I came. I spent the night here... came without real hesitation but I'm sure that she should not be home alone. Part of me is incredibly worried and upset - there isn't 24 hour coverage for her and I can't do this every weekend. I have no idea how long she will live... it could be 2 weeks, 2 months, 2 years?
Anyway - I brought my laptop and did some work for work. My other laptop for the job that I don't really have anymore that I'm helping with got a virus so my friend is clearing it up for me. I have to pick that up today.
I got a horrible night's sleep, not because of my friend but because of her neighbors. She lives in a beautiful old one-story ranch house with a mother in law apartment tacked on the back - one room, kitchen, bathroom, private entrance, parking on its own.
The people who live in the big house have a room butt up against this one where they watch TV. I can see the kitchen and living room from here - it is an L shaped house, and the lights were all blazing, the tv was turned up all the way, and a 2 hour infomercial for classics of American Country Music from the 60s and 70s was in full force.
Dear God. Two hours!
I had turned the air conditioner off so I could hear her if she got up or needed me. I didn't realize how good the AC was at drowning them out next-door until I stood here in the dwindling cool and the silence.
My friend took meds at 11pm and told me she needed to take the round of pain medication again in 3 hours. 3 hours later, with Johnny Cash blaring through the wall, I went in to see her. She told me she could skip the pain meds for another hour or two, so I set an alarm for 4:30am to go check on her. The people in the next room started having a fight about something. I just wanted desperately to pound on the wall and scream, but I don't know them, and I didn't want to get my friend in trouble here. Which also is part of the reason why I think she wants to go to Hospice.
The yelling stopped, I dozed, the sky started to lighten, my friend needed medication so I hooked her up and we went back to sleep. Pouring rain began so I closed the windows and listened to the birds, the rain, the crickets, with the one open window so I didn't suffocate (it is super hot in here).
My friend woke up at about 7:30 and called my cell because I was so deeply asleep that I didn't hear her call me from the next room. We did her pain pills and I made her a hard boiled egg and she ate it with some yogurt and tea. We sat together quietly for 2 hours.
The hospice nurse came to the house and knocked on their front door at about 9:30am. POUNDED on it. I think the neighbors are all still sound asleep, so I sat here laughing. Ha ha. That's what you get for keeping me awake until 3am!
I need to leave here at 11, and the next person does not come until 2pm so I am feeling horribly guilty and sad. I don't want to leave her alone here. She doesn't really like the guy who is coming, and it is kind of hard to watch her treat him. He's trying hard and she doesn't appreciate it. He is, admittedly, a little annoying and I bet I'd be annoyed if he was here trying to take care of me.
It's hard - I asked her where her family was. They live an hour away but her dad is ill, and a recluse, and doesn't ever leave the house. Her mom can't drive or travel. Her brother lives an hour beyond them and I guess hasn't made a huge effort to be of assistance.
I'm sitting in the living room while the Hospice nurse is doing her second round of paperwork. Turns out she was on the list, and receiving Hospice at Home for a week or so, but the procedure she had done this week actually kicked her out of Hospice eligibility ... so yesterday she called them and unleashed. So the nurse is here. Doing her intake over again. Doug explained to me that in a six month period you can only go through intake to Hospice twice, so ... this would be her second. And you can only be on Hospice for six months. I hate to say it, I really hate to say it, because I love my friend but ... I hope this sticks, and I hope someone sees that she really needs to be in patient somewhere. I don't think this is fair to her.
Meanwhile, in the living room here I'm surrounded by tons of stuff. She has a ton of things, stuff, boxes, gifts clothes, some sort of a wooden barrel with blankets in it. Styrofoam ice boxes. There is a ton of stuff in here. And I can't imagine who takes care of this when she's gone. It's only one room. I think that when she goes into in patient care or she passes away, that's when everyone will show up to help. All the people who don't stay over. I just have a feeling. I don't want any of her things.
So I'm okay being here for her. I don't know for how long. I would love if she was able to move into a skilled nursing facility or something but ... she's here. We'll see what happens next.
The first contract that I worked down this way in Boston was at a travel agency, working on their websites. It was before the whole hospitalization wackiness, and when I lost that contract I was sad.
I really liked my co-workers. One specifically, technically my boss, Andrew. What a nice guy. Super laid back, I think he was from Georgia, great sense of humor. And he'd come to me and say "Hey. I'm in a pickle. I need your help."
And I'd say "Please tell me about your pickle." He'd laugh. I'd laugh. And he'd tell me about his pickle.
The pickles usually were about incorrect data on the website. Someone gave wrong descriptions of trips and then someone from legal or "upstairs" would notice and heads would roll and screaming commence, so Andrew would run down and have me fix it. Or once the developers built some module where the price and percentage of savings were entered, and the system would just do the math, so that later if 20% became 25%... no one had to think about it. But the math thing was wrong. And 159 trip packages all needed fixed now. Because customers were doing the math and coming back with arguments.
Very important pickles. And they always seemed to happen at 4:30pm. Sometimes on Fridays.
I had coffee with him last fall, and they'd moved him into a new position doing analytics and performance stuff. He was distracted the whole time by his phone, emails and texts, and I was disappointed because I wanted to sit and talk to him like people, without other people butting in. I asked if he was in a pickle and he pretty much said yeah... so I told him to go find someone to get him out of it.
Yesterday I was out for a walk around 2pm. I was meeting another friend for late lunch, and he was walking down the street toward me. It was wonderful to see his smile, and we stood and chatted on the street for a bit. I gave him the elevator speech about the contract end and the real job starting, and how our office moved and we're all the way down there (I pointed) now.
He told me he missed me, and no one could get him out of pickles as well as I could.
On Facebook, I have an acquaintance (someone from my town, her son used to be in Boy Scouts so I'm friends with most of the moms who have gone through the program). She has several kids from a couple different marriages. Some of those kids are adults now, older than my own. She posts stuff about them, how difficult they are, how they say and do things that upset her. I know a lot of people do this... but ... I always notice that her posts are public posts and that these adult children are on her friends list.
So they can read her badmouthing them. Which is unfortunate. She does the same thing with her husband's family, and goes on and on and on about how they treat her. And they are public posts, which anyone can see if they look. I pointed that out to her once and she actually told me to mind my business. Okay. Just trying to give you some helpful advice, and I'm not surprised that they respond to you the way you describe if you don't care what you post in a public forum. "It's my wall," she says. Yeah, but you're broadcasting like an FM station with 700,000 watts across a major metropolitan area. But... carry on.
Recently, one of her kids (one of the adult kids) had a medical emergency. A cancer scare. She posted to the TOWN page all about his medical situation. She didn't just post it publicly on her personal page, she went to the town gossip/news/gripe page...
She was asking for prayer, which is something I am okay with. When people do it on their own walls, and it is a friends only post.
Instead of posting something, discreet shall we say, she posted long detailed descriptions of his pre-diagnosis. She included a direct link to his Facebook profile, and encouraged people in town to send him messages of support.
I sat there reading, cringing, thinking "Oh I would kill my mom for posting this..." I read on in horror as hundreds of comments flowed in on her post with support, emojis of fingers pointing up (I guess that's... something like prayer) and weird hearts and angels and gifs of prayers (oh, MySpace...) from people all over town.
A follow up post said something along the lines that her son took his Facebook profile down, "probably because he was depressed..." she theorized. No, probably because you unleashed the hounds of town onto him to send him unsolicited messages of love and support. And I bet you a million dollars that was something he didn't appreciate.
She just posted another update to the town page about how his surgery went well, and he was recovering, and thank you everyone for support... again, all sorts of responses about how that is great and wonderful.
And I am thinking "Am I the only one who thinks that she's way out of line? Am I the only one who finds this a horrible overstep in their relationship?" I mentioned something to a friend of mine in town in an email about how uncomfortable this family drama unfolding on the page was making me, and she agreed fully about the hot bag of nuts this is... and I asked "well, should we politely point out that ... it's not cool?" And my friend said "No way. I'm waiting for her kid to say something... pull up a seat and dig into the popcorn..."
But then I think about this blog. Is it any different here? I've way overshared on my kids here before, and while they were very young, without the ability to respond or confront me if they think I'm wrong... And I think that while I was blogging here and being open and honest, if they went back and read some of this very "secret public journal" content (hat tip to Mike Birbiglia) they may be offended or aghast. Heck, I may be offended or aghast at some of my feelings and responses to situations at the time.
I kind of feel that it is good to self-censor, that over sharing (especially someone else's story) is uncalled for. I think before I point out that I think that someone else is not using social media correctly I should think about my paths through the tech.
I love my kids, and I love being their mom. I always thought I'd have more of a relationship with Jess where she'd talk to me about "stuff" but she's completely closed off from me more often than not. Getting her to talk to me makes her defensive, and I'm not sure why. Then I thought about it and realized I was often the same way with my mom. So I look at this relationship with slight longing, but knowledge that yeah ... if she needs me she'll let me know and I have to just let that be, rather than make her feel uncomfortable.
Geoff wanted to look at a local community college last week, even though we don't have money for him to go to school. He knows this, but signed up for the tour anyway, and I didn't want to squash his dreams. We talked realistically about money, and I told him I was proud of him for looking at community colleges instead of ... Harvard. While we toured, with about 20 other parents and kids, I let him walk on his own, and I positioned myself in different places. He and I made eye contact and nodded, or raised an eyebrow when the guide told us things of interest. Afterwards I told him that I gave him that space on purpose, so that I didn't make him uncomfortable. He liked that and indirectly quoted Bart Simpson and told me that he appreciated that I didn't "Mom all over it." He noticed many of the parents were incredibly bossy or "guidey" with their kids, and he liked being on his own.
In fact, it was great to see him smiling as he walked around the campus. He told me "I can see myself going here." And that made me happy. I texted Doug while we were touring and told him that Geoff's smile alone made me want to see this happen for him.
When we dropped Jess off at college, she was confrontational, rude, and disrespectful to us. And it really pissed me off. What I didn't realize was that she didn't really want to be there. Academically, I knew she had the chops to do it, but ... she didn't want it. When we toured Buffalo, Pitt and Syracuse, I should have listened to her social cues. But I didn't. And she went for, as Ben Folds sings "three sad semesters," and dropped out and came home.
So it is different seeing Geoff wanting this, and being excited about it. I wanted Jess, and still do want her, to get a degree. She's the "smart one," I was willing to sink all the money into her that I could but she didn't want to do it. Geoff, however, is the motivated one, and I think steering him towards something he can do vocationally, something he can do while working (and finding him a job to do while he's going to school) is a worthy goal.
One of the reasons I changed jobs was to bring in more income. I was perfectly happy in the other job with the short commute, and was getting super comfortable with the work and the people and the projects (more on these thoughts later). Being able to write a check to the local community college for Geoff over the next couple of years will be a big undertaking since we won't get any loans, we don't qualify for financial aid, and he's probably not going to receive any grants or scholarships (we're starting to apply for those). I knew that in order to get him going we'd need more money. And ... here we are.
Hopefully I'll be able to say to Jess "Do you want to take a class? We have the money now. Pick something, I'm more than happy to pay for it." And we'll see what happens. But... I'll do it without momming all over it.
I keep thinking about Marcia, not just yesterday's Marcia but Marcia through all the years.
Doug and I have always felt that she simply has something in her makeup that no one else we know has.
She is funny, smart, down to earth, brave, unruffled, filled with amazing common sense and a kind of spirit that is just overall difficult to define. If this were the Oregon Trail, she'd be there with the wagon, a baby on her hip, leading the horse, instructing the boys how to find food, dealing with the daughter who just got her period in the wilderness, trying to come up with a plan for dinner, and maintaining a calm collected spirit. She'd be teaching them to love God, obey her and dad, but still have fun somehow. She'd be teaching them to read and what plants are poisonous. All while her husband is sick in the wagon.
Marcia is somehow like no one else I've run across in life as a human being.
When Wayne was dying, she cried, she wasn't stoic or emotionally distant. Don't get this picture in your mind of someone who was just perfect and unruffled and nonplussed. There was sadness expressed, there was difficulty for sure. A lot of tears. But she was also so present in the moment, wiping his brow with a cold facecloth, talking to him and letting him know who was there. She kissed his forehead and cheeks. She told him that she was going to miss him so much. She attended to the children's questions and needs. She encouraged them
to come hold daddy's hand and be there, and if they didn't want to - she
didn't pressure them. She never once lost it with them.
And then we cracked jokes, had some laughs, got some more tears all mixed in there.
As Wayne was dying, at the very end in those last 15 minutes or so, she didn't ask anyone to leave the room, go away... I know a lot of people would. She told me he would have wanted us all to be there if he could tell us. She knew her husband, knew his wishes, knew exactly the person he was. And she abided by that so beautifully.
As you and God are my witnesses, I swear... please allow me in this universe to be a small portion as strong as this woman was on that day in anything I can come up against. Let me keep my cool. Let me assess and reflect, not attack and react. Let me release selfishness and embrace some selflessness.
Sunday night at about 10pm he passed out in his bathroom, his wife is a physical therapist and is well trained in medical response, so she tried to revive him. He was completely unresponsive. He suffered a bleed in his brain stem. Surgery was not an option. He was fully unresponsive. He never regained consciousness.
She and her son used Facebook to get the word out to friends. So this was really weird, it was the first experience I had with Facebook being the method of communication for people sharing this kind of experience.
I woke up in the morning on Monday and while drinking my morning coffee checked in on the news feed and got the report. I called Doug who was on his way to a meeting, and let him know he should come home as soon as the meeting was over.
We were by Wayne's side by 2:30pm. And he was gone 3 hours later.
He was surrounded, about 20 people were in the room... we told stories, we laughed, cried and prayed. Laurel sang and forgot the words. But it was okay because it was pretty. And he would have laughed.
Wayne and Marcia have six kids. I've written about them here before, we have spent many fun days with them. This was not something I expected we'd all be doing on the first really super spectacularly beautiful day of the year... but there we were, saying goodbye. Suddenly.
It was surreal. Watching the numbers on the monitor. The beeping, the sounds. Every breath he took with the assisted device was a struggle. And then it was over.
When I got to the hospital, I got a sharpie from the computer in his room, and wrote a heart on each of the kids' hands. And I put one on my own. I wanted to put one on everyone. I wanted them to have a mark to be reminded when they left there that "the greatest of these is love..." Natalie took the above picture for me this morning. And I hope they remember always that they have each other, from age 20 to 7 down the line.
A friend of mine had said that as Christians we believe in heaven, we'll see him again. Death has lost its sting, but no ... it really hasn't. I rejoice in his faith and the fact we believe we will be together again. What I mourn is the now. The future events he will be notably missing from. The fact that while I'm here, I won't have him to joke around with. And that I really didn't do enough joking around with him this last year.
So if you have a friend that you say "you know, we really should get together sometime," why don't you go ahead and set that up. Life is short, kids. And it gets shorter all the time.
In about 2 weeks from now I'll be back in the Seaport in Boston. I'm having a hard time really grasping that.
On my last contract and the contract before that, going back to early 2013, the offices I was working in were in the heart of things. Not too far from South Station, near the courthouse, off Congress. In December the office I was in moved and we landed a bit further down towards South Boston, down A Street. I feel like that took us out of the heart of things. Not as many great places to go grab a quick coffee, or lunch to go.
The new office is forever away from anything quick and tasty. There are a couple of nice bars/restaurants, but not your grab a sandwich and be on your way to sit by the channel kinds of spaces. I really liked being right off Congress Street and Seaport Boulevard. There were so many options... The Metro, Bee's Knees, Flour, and then the wonderful Bon Me brick &
mortar cafe opened up right before my contract ended. Not to mention
the food trucks. Oh, the food trucks. And just the nice walkies, the park, the canal, the
Children's Museum. I greatly enjoyed being over there. I'm not in love with the new neighborhood.
Working in Newburyport for the past several weeks, I was waiting for it to get warmer and nicer. March has just been a wasteland and so far April is not shaping up for early spring goodness. The worst winter in the history of the universe has left the sidewalks impassable in many places, so getting out for a walk to one of the many sandwich shops was not happening.
I brought my lunch just about every day. There have been only a handful of dayswhere I ventured outside.
Yesterday was one of them. It was cold, but I needed to get out of here and get a walk in. I have had a horrible cold, and going to the gym has not been on my agenda, sleep has. So ... I went for a stroll around town, walking up the bullnose past my favorite usual sandwich shop. I wasn't ready to sit down and eat just yet. I ventured past Jewel in the Crown and thought about a giant Tandoori Chicken lunch. I was starting to get hungry, but I kept going.
I ended up at 17 State Street cafe. It used to be the newspaper stand and kind of a sandwich shop called Fowles. People still call it Fowles. When I told my co-worker where I had lunch, she had no idea what I meant when I said 17 State, but ... I corrected myself and she knew. My girl C and I meet there for breakfast some mornings. They do a great job, if you're ever in the market for a meal.
The burger was delicious, the place was packed, even though it was on the very late end of the lunch shift. I read the paper and thought to myself... this is what I was hoping for being in this town and having lunch.
I'm on the verge of regret when I think about going back to the office in the city that doesn't have any really good choices for a meal. I can walk out my door here and in a few steps be at about six great sandwich shops, a bagel shop, several bakeries, Thai, Indian, Chinese, Italian, Mexican... pizza. without breaking a sweat.
I think it is my fault the weather has been so crummy. I'm being prevented from falling a little too much in love with where I am geographically, so I can make the transition back to Boston.
Today is not a walk-around day. It is snowing/raining/something, about 30 degrees. Cold, windy, horrible. I'm happy I brought leftovers. But I'm hoping tomorrow is a good go out for a walk and eats kind of day. And certainly I hope next week will be as well. We shall see.
I gave my notice at work on Friday. I felt really anxious and horrible about it. My former future boss told me not to give notice until I had the offer letter in my email, and I wanted to give at least 2 weeks notice, so on Thursday morning I was ready to do it but could not connect with the current future former boss easily. I had to grab him on his way out the door Friday afternoon.
On Thursday he told me that he was so happy he had hired me, so it made me feel extra awful knowing that I had to tell him goodbye.
I kind of felt like the average girl who dated that really hot BMOC for a few months, but he then broke up with her.... and there I was with this nice new boy friend, someone adequate, kind, a little needy but in all respects nice. And the BMOC comes calling saying "baby, I shouldn't have broken up with you. Come back..."
I also felt like I was kicking a puppy. I felt that uncomfortable about it. And I still do a little bit.
My current future former boss didn't try to talk me out of it. He basically said "you're sure that this is the job you want to take and you've made up your mind..." and I said yes. I told him that I deliberated long and hard, and what it really boiled down to was money, and I didn't expect him to try and match the pay offered to me. I'd be doing something totally different, not web-development, and I don't think I'm worth that money here.
So he went home for the day on Friday and then sent me the job description and asked me to help him revise it and make it better so we can get the best candidate in.
I told him I'm super happy to train this new incoming person, whenever he or she is found, but I can't really go past April 22nd, I don't think. My former future boss wanted me to start as soon as possible, and the 2 weeks notice means I would start on the 20th (Monday) in her best world.
But I kind of feel like if the person moving into this seat needs me for an extra day, or two, I'd like to help that person out. Plus, that is April School Vacation week. what if I wanted to do something fun with my kid (who am I kidding. We'll just sleep until noon each day now that he's not in Boy Scouts).
In our staff meeting yesterday afternoon everything seemed to go well, we made jokes, everyone seemed happy. He had made some decisions on things a few weeks ago that he then completely changed, which changes how I did something that I thought was done but that's okay. I'll change it to the way he wants it. Everything will be okay here. I know it.
So in making that decision, my husband is very happy that we will be able to dig upwards out of debt. I'll be making about 300 dollars more a week, every week, and this particular salary is pretty much what I was making when I lost my last full time job in 2010.
It has been an exceptionally long time working for little money, and combined with losing the house and all the other crap that has happened I can breathe a little sign of relief. Maybe things can get better and more awesome. Maybe we can get a used car that isn't from the auto auction and might last longer than a couple months. Maybe we can get a new couch.
Hopefully this will be a job I'll want to stay at for quite some time. I think that if my last job hadn't folded 5 years ago last month, maybe I would have still been working there. Who knows. I just know that what's done is done, and cannot be undone.
Anyway. I want to always be that person, that my Father in law talks about me being.
