I Know A Man

I know a man who pushed the envelope, went to the limit, laughed in the face of possible death, had no fear when he committed to an insane thought and knew when he had gone too far and blown it out. He felt rather than knew the shifting and rearranging of brain cells brought on by years of neglect and lack of adequate nourishment. 
I know a man who faced, at a young and tender age, the abject desolation of abandonment and the carnage of a world imploding in the void that was left. Each day that passed another piece of the familiar tore loose flying off into the strength of the pull of the void. Pieces of who he was and who he could become flew side by side into the gaping darkness until the wound of being left alone closed up enough to shut off the void. The brain began a healing of sorts replacing the missing pieces with a little of this and a little of that in a random pattern.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         
I know a man who emerged from the cocoon spun of sorrows and broken dreams believing he could stave off the loneliness if he did not care at all. He did not know he left the cocoon ill prepared for loneliness and not caring at all would attract an absence of affection that, in the years to follow, would crush him.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

What I Have Learned

I have learned that all the best intentions, all the best ideas, all the love anyone can have and all the true desire to make a change in someone's life, someone you love very much, does not mean things will work out,  I naively believed I could make the difference in my grandson's life I told him I would always have his back, that he was safe with me, that I would always be there for him. I meant it. I really meant it from the bottom of my heart. I was wrong. I was powerless to keep my many promises and had no authority or power to override anyone when it came to the decisions being made in my grandson's life. I stood and watched through the years knowing full well that the dramas playing all around him were robbing him of his joy and his ability to trust and his belief that things would turn out o.k. I tried to make a safe place for him but I could not make it safe enough to protect him from the insanity of influences that took him far beyond his ability to cope with their reality. I felt it. I screamed inside and schemed to find a way to draw him closer In the end I had to stand silently and watch as his stresses and challenges rose over his head, watch while the police were called in and he was forced to the point of snapping and I saw him look to me and I could not make a dent in the system or in the pain in his mind and body. I watch now as a fifteen year old young man moves out of my world to a place emotionally where I cannot seem to reach him. I hand my fear to God and pray for my grandson. I am so terribly sorry that I could not hold up my part of the bargain and the promises and that I still am powerless. My Father who is in heaven is not powerless. I pray asking for mercy and guidance and protection of my grandson. I know, all too well, the journey ahead of him if he is to overcome the forces that have pulled at him his entire life. I beg God to forgive us for the harm we bring to children in our own brokenness and through our own slavery to self-will. I pray God will restore, heal, bless and bring peace to my grandson's body, mind and spirit. In Jesus name! Amen!

Day After Christmas 2021

 2021 seems a blur of significant events enhanced by the suffering and life changing presence of COVID 19 and it's children named collectively as variants. Waiting for 2022 to show up fresh faced and full of innocent hope without a care in the universe. I see the face of the first day of January peeking around the corner and she is not smiling. Not even a hint of a smile. I can't decide if the look I see is filled with malice or a cringing, unspoken "oops"!

A Silent Sentinel

Evening fell pushing a full moon high up into the early evening sky. Three huge ducks flew through the twilight sky honking back and forth to one another. I found myself wondering what it must have been like when the sky was filled with homeward bound ducks honking and forming an aerial V shape formation. Now I wonder which direction was considered home. The journey south for the winter or the journey north for the remainder of the year. 
I watched a documentary tonight. It was about John Lennon and Yoko Ono. Before I turned the t.v. off Yoko Ono was talking about her childhood in Japan. Her family was prestigious and wealthy. She lived a charmed life. Japan was bombed and her world changed. Her next memories are of living in the country, foraging for food with nothing left of the lifestyle she knew before the bombing. She said she spent many years looking for the way back to a home that no longer existed. The moment I heard those words I realized they told my story. Years of looking for the way back to a home that no longer existed says everything about the illusion I held dear to myself and the dream I pursued despite all evidence to the contrary.
Silent Sentinel is an odd name to give a post that appears to be anything but silent. When I began this post, I had a vision of a watchman on a tower and I felt the dark, foreboding of approaching doom. But that vision has been ruined by Game of Thrones and many other movies with the towers, darkness and ominous unknowns lurking in the shadows. 
I considered renaming the post, caught a glimpse of my ego strutting back and forth as if the title on this post in this blog matters worth a tinker's damn.  The title stays. The ego can shuffle off to Buffalo for all I care at this moment.                                              

Seriously!

Watching Robert lose ground one tiny bit at a time is an excruciating watch. I feel as if I have been on the palace watchtower straining and searching for signs of an approaching enemy. When I catch sight of the first troops they are a wisp of dust stirred by their horse's hooves. As days pass and I look again and again I recognize the fierce advance of warriors still far, far away. Lately, I hear the faint sound of hooves as they strike the ground. I watch, knowing the fight that cannot be won is on the way. I watch as one who is prepared for the coming adversary yet cannot tear my eyes away from the horizon wishing I could, of my own fierce will, turn the adversary away and claim the victory. 
Robert is currently in a nursing home in a town about 34 miles from our home. He is under "rehab" status at this point. Soon I will need to make a decision about bringing him home or asking them to do the paperwork for him to become a resident. 
He has been losing ground for several months. I had no idea how desperately lonely and painful this time in our journey with FTD would become with each day that passes. 
I covet your prayers for wisdom, clarity, peace of mind for me and peace of mind and body for Robert. So many of you know this path intimately. We have so many friends, family, and professionals who are supportive and loving. A friend of mine reminded me that the path is ours to be walked and only we can walk it but we are not alone on this path. 
Of course, I have no idea how or when this journey with FTD will end. I pray God will grant me the humility to let His love reign in my times with Robert. If you know me at all you know I can be impatient and overbearing. I pray God will grant me freedom from those traits in the times I spend with Robert.   
Several of you have asked for an update on Robert and me. This is hot off the press. Much love!                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          

Fog

Brain dead yet conscious. Fully conscious yet brain dead. I find myself wandering on a path I do not recognize. I find myself wandering on a path I know inch by inch. I find myself wandering hither and yon. 

Traces of who I was ten years ago remain. I think.

Caregiver of a husband who is slowly, very slowly going away mentally and physically. This sentence is my resume. This sentence is my path of most resistance. This sentence leaves me without words to explain, without tears to cry, without....without....without.

Reading something I wrote several years ago and seeing the naive spirit of a neophyte caregiver shocked me. Have I aged that quickly? I pondered the distance from there to here. I wondered where that woman went and why it seems she ran away. I wondered how the changes will come in the future as I remain both she who ran and she who is present.
I am the caregiver of a husband who is slowly, very slowly going away mentally and physically. I stare through my own sorrow and find my husband on the other side of it. Nothing I can imagine fits his journey. The sorrow swirls around me in a perpetual fog. At times the fog is dense. I hear someone calling my name but I cannot see them nor find my way. When the fog lifts a bit I see my husband. I am the caregiver of a husband I love very much. I am the caregiver of a husband who exhausts me, frustrates me, claims every ounce of my endurance. I am the caregiver of a husband who can see me clearly on rare occasions. He is the husband of a wife who wanders and moves in and out of a shroud of sorrow.

We live our lives in the strength of an undefined love in an unfamiliar territory. We live our lives.

The Way I Love!

Slowly driving around my neighborhood at 12:45 a.m. or p.m., darned if I know which, but it is dark outside so figure it out for yourself. I digress for a moment. I know the answer to that question on many days or nights. It's true. But things that have the potential to be one or the other although they are the same when written or spoken do elude me from time to time. This is one of those times. Commend me. I could have taken the easy way out and used the current time of 1:14 a.m. There are other words that confound me when asked to explain why I chose one over the other. Dinner and Supper, for instance, mean lunch and the evening meal to a fair number of people and both mean the evening meal to a fair number of other people. I am in the latter group. Lunch does not equal dinner to me and certainly is not supper. I get long, tolerant sighs when the use of those two words is in question. There are many more, for instance, if I use a mouse for my computer, what do I say when I have more than one of them. Mice is the perfect word when referring to tiny rodents. Mice as a reference to more than one usb or wireless device used on my computer and referred to as a "mouse" strikes me as wrong no matter who tells me it is correct. 

Where I began...driving around the neighborhood in the middle of the night looking for my oldest and most raggedy black cat is the way I love. I would drive around looking for you and, let's face it, I probably don't know you nor would you need finding in the middle of the night, but, for argument's sake, if you needed finding in the middle of the night, I would look for you. It is the way I love.

I circled the park where we live and went down the street to another part of the park and returned home before I saw the black form of my escape kitty meandering to me from down the way, looking back over his shoulder as if pursued by a very slow foe who did not show himself. He made an obligatory (I love that word) attempt to avoid capture. I allowed the pretense then scooped him up and came inside. I fed him special food. It is the way I love. If I had found you I would have brought you inside and fed you a treat. A special treat for you. It is the way I love.

The subject of this short musing came to me as I was parking the car wondering if I would be up all night waiting for that junkyard cat to come home. Moments before I saw him I knew that I would be up all night. Many people would go to sleep and hope their cat showed up by morning. I just cannot do that when something or someone I love is missing or hurting or in need or, basically breathing. I have to stay up all night and check outside periodically, whistle a tune, walk around outside a bit and then return to my seat until the next urge calls me to repeat the cycle. Do I like it? No. Like has nothing to do with it. Love has everything to do with it. Waiting up all night for the possibility of a homecoming is natural to me. It is the way I love.

Love enough to go around is what I have and I have it in abundance. Money? Not so much. Common sense? Ah, duh! Love? Yes! Yes! I have that and I always have it. It is the way I love.

I like to love carelessly, recklessly and all those other words of extreme measures ending in "...ly". I could just as well be abundant in many other areas. But I'm not and I'm cool with it.

So, the cats of mine are seated quietly in their respective places. They know I am a sucker for love. They know they are safe and sound with me. I am a fierce, warrior lover. I am loved by a God who pours out grace and favor on me. In my case, He does not ask much. He asks for me to give freely of what I have in abundance. It is the way I love.