05 May, 2016
The first year after I was born my brother got an incredible present from Santa: big red fire truck with removable ladders and a bell. My Dad insisted on bringing it to my grandparents (an 8 hour drive in a tightly packed station wagon) so Christmas morning. I imagine his thrill, when he laid eyes on it, eventually followed by his horror that his little sister wouldn't stop touching it AND wanted to ride it.
But it is the way of the manifest world isn't it: I want your stuff starting from the earliest consciousness. Curiosity springs eternal from the time one tries to grasp one's own hands, and then a rattle, eventually a spoon fork, and sippy cup. working our way up to a cell phone and laptop or books and chocolate mousse. I know this to be true for me with 5 younger siblings who would not, or could not resist my stuff. Dolls, notbooks, art supplies, clothes: all of it fair game.
Posted by Jules at 7:00 AM
04 May, 2016
I thought he would be so thrilled with this carriage ride in Scottsdale. I planned it as a surprise, but he didn't seem particularly surprised. Enjoyed it, but not especially surprised. At that point in his dying process he wasn't surprised by too much. Even the flat tire earlier in the day wasn't a big deal for him. It was traumatizing for me, but not for him. He just said to pull over and get it fixed. No big deal, happens all the time, while I am stuck back in "how could this happen to me-land" What I will miss, and try to remember, is that he had a different perspective than I did. He liked to have fun, and it didn't take much for to have fun.Didn't really matter if it was Cirque at the Bellagio, or stopping at the 99 cent store on the way home from McDonalds.
This was a day of not knowing if I would see him again and not knowing if I could come back again. When I left him at the Red Mountain Cafe, we cried, couldn't say good-by and I said I would see him again. And I blew it. I trusted the hospice nurse more than him, and more than my intuition. If I had trusted him I would have left on Friday or Saturday or Sunday, or even Monday. But I wouldn't have waited for Tuesday. I would have remembered the Orsorio saying "weeks, not months". I would have left immediately instead of stalling. And I tell myself that it has to be about him, so that I can convince myself that he wouldn't have wanted me to see him at the end: weak, vulnerable, and unable to protect me from myself anymore.
He didn't just protect me from my mother and siblings, he protected me from my own self-hatred. He loved me more than I loved myself at times and for that I hope I will always be grateful.
Posted by Jules at 8:15 AM
03 May, 2016
Posted by Jules at 9:55 AM