Forever Close in Spirit - Part I

FEBRUARY 1996

I angle the wheelchair out of the narrow apartment door and work my way slowly down the hall. It feels off balance, like trying to drive a car that is poorly aligned. Dad reprimands me as I pull up short toward the elevator. "You don't know how to drive one of these things," he barks. I laugh nervously. He's right.

I edge the wheelchair to the picture window that looks out on a panoramic view of Lake Flower, surrounded by the village of Saranac Lake, the Adirondack Mountains rising in the distance. New fallen snow from the night before has turned the scene into a wonderland. Snow clings to the trees. Ice fishermen and ice skaters dot the lake.

Dad stares out the window without a word. I wonder how many memories flood his brain as he gazes out over the town where he grew up. He has shared most of them with me a thousand times. Tales of walking to school in snow three feet deep, using a soap-stone and blankets to keep warm on long trips to Plattsburgh in a cold car, stories of old girlfriends, teen pranks, and growing up with a houseful of siblings.

My own memories blend in with his. Memories of the old rope swing that hurled us into the water at the camp on Follensby Pond, rowing the old rowboat along the shore at daybreak, trips over Whiteface Mountain at sunset, walking through snow that creaked with every step, admiring the stars on a clear night.

"Let's go down to the sixth floor," he says. "I'd like to check in on Nancy Beamer. She's been so sick lately, and she never comes downstairs anymore."

I turn the wheelchair around and maneuver into the elevator. We laugh and joke about the way it groans. Two ladies enter the elevator on the eighth floor carrying packages, and we exchange comments about the bitter cold that has gripped the region for several days now.

When I rap on Nancy's door, a feeble voice inquires who is there. I give my dad's name, "and I'm his daughter," I add.

She bids us to come in. I thread the wheelchair gingerly through the door and between the furniture to where Nancy is sitting. She smiles at my dad and he asks her how she's feeling. They exchange brief stories about their doctors, their medical tests, and each other. He tells her good-bye and promises he'll be back to visit soon.

We travel down the hall to the elevator and make the trip to the first floor without any company. I wheel the chair out to the front door and we watch the snow that has again started falling at a rapid rate. A blast of cold air wraps itself around us as one of the other tenants enters. "How are you feeling?" he asks dad.

"Fine. Real good," is the reply. They smile and laugh together as I wander back towards the large room that serves as a meeting and recreation area for the tenants in the building. I sense a tug at my heartstrings as my gaze falls on the walnut baby-grand piano sitting in a corner of the room.

It is New Year's Eve, 1960, and the house is full of people, laughing, talking, joking, drinking. Dad is at the piano, his fingers caressing the keys easily, no apparent effort on his part to create the tunes that flow from the instrument. He has been playing for several minutes, working his way from one song to the next, old songs like "Misty" and "Button up Your Overcoat" and "Bye Bye Blackbird". He curses to himself as he strikes a wrong chord, but no one notices. I am sitting in a chair next to him, watching him and admiring him with my eyes. Maybe someday, I'll be able to play like him, but never like him really. He plays without music, tunes that are embedded in his brain and magically transformed to the keys. I wonder in my childish way if this is the year he will make a record of his music and become famous and then he won't have to work anymore.

"You know," dad says when I resume my position behind his wheelchair, "I came downstairs a few weeks ago and no one was around, so I thought I'd play the piano for a while. It was the funniest thing. It seemed like something was wrong with the keys. I couldn't get much sound out of it. Then it dawned on me that I was too weak to put enough pressure on the keys to play them."

A lump catches in my throat. "Did you ever make the tape you were going to make?" I ask after a moment.

"I made a list of all the songs I could think of that I knew. I think I came up with over a hundred of them. I got twenty or so on tape."

We have moved on down the hall and into the laundry room. The soft whir of the dryer is the only interruption. This is my big chance to say everything I want to say. These few moments alone with dad may be the only ones I get before the inevitable end. I check the dryer, find the clothes still quite wet, and push a couple more dimes into the slot. We sit in silence for a moment.

Dad looks up at me, a question in his eyes. "Well, what are we doing here? Are those clothes done or what?"

"No, I just put some more money in. I'll come back and check them again in a while." I shift position in the chair where I've chosen to take a seat. "I just wanted to say a few things to you, Dad," I begin, searching for the right words. "This room isn't exactly inspiring, but at least we're alone for a minute."

He nods and waits.

"I guess I just want to tell you how proud I am of you for facing all of this the way you have. You never complain, you continue to do everything you possibly can, you haven't just given up."

"It really hasn't been so bad," he answers. "I'm not in pain. The medication must be holding me pretty good. I get so weak and tired, though. I just can't understand it."

You are weak and tired because this evil thing is attacking your body and eating up every good cell in it. The horrible cancer is destroying your muscles and your bones and your body is fighting so hard to win the battle, but it won't win, and the more if fights, the more tired and weak and helpless you become.

"Well," I reassure him, "I think you are fantastic and so do the people in the building. You've been an inspiration to all of them. Every time I come downstairs I see someone who tells me how they admire your strength."

Dad looks around with a restlessness that signals he's ready to leave.

I'm not. Not yet.

"So," I say with a the hint of a chuckle in my voice, "I'm 45 and you're 76. Any advice?"

I wait for his reply, some utterance of great wisdom that will ease the pain in my heart, but dad remains silent. We never did carry on any deep philosophical conversations all the years he was healthy. Do I really expect anything different now?

A long moment passes. "Yeah." He sighs. "Don't get to be 76. It stinks."

I take his hand in mine. "I love you, dad, and I'll miss you a lot."

To be continued....

Thanks for reading my blog!

The Benefits of Blogging

I started this blog about sixteen months ago. As I skimmed through the posts I've done during the time, it gave me pause to question what the benefit has been to others and to myself. Anyone who follows my posts can tell that I'm not a frequent blogger, nor, unfortunately, am I consistent. I don't have as many post in over a year as some other bloggers post in two months.

I hardly ever see a comment in response to the blog post itself, but that's okay. I read several other blogs and seldom comment, so that is not a measure of how often my words are read. Also, several people have contacted me via private email to let me know that they read what I wrote that week. I think I have problems blogging because I fear putting my real feelings "out there". Suppose I have an issue at work, for instance, and I really want to blog about it. What if the person I'm writing about reads my blog and feelings get hurt? Same with family members. I've seen blogs where others have done it, and I've often wondered if there were consequences to such posts.

One of the points I wish to make tonight is that I glean different things from different blogs. Some of the ones I read deal with various aspects of writing, some introduce new books, some have a new post every day. The ones I enjoy most, though, are the blogs where people write about the people and situations that are closest to their hearts.

I have one blogger friend who has been keeping her readers informed of her struggle to begin writing again after a long spell of nonwriting. She has been an inspiration to me. I spent several hours the other night rereading and tweaking some of my own work after reading some encouraging words on her blog. She recently talked about the Nifty 350 technique, which urges a writer to put down 350 words per day. Well, I've been writing this post for about fifteen minutes and I'm approaching 600 words. If I apply ten or fifteen minutes a day to my WIPs, this plan just might work! Thanks BK!

Part of the frustration for me is that there are so many blogs out there I'd like to keep up with, but if I read them all, I'd never write a word on my own for lack of time. So, I've had to be selective, and I know I'm missing out on some great words that someone else has written! I suppose it's the same with books, though. My list of "books to read" is almost as long, if not longer, than my list of "books read". Everytime I select another book to read, I wonder if I've chosen "a good one".

When I send out email, I always include the link to my web site and the title of my latest blog post. It's when I start answering email and realize I've had that same blog post title for way too long that I am prompted to update with another post.

I'd like to hear back from readers as to what blogs you like and why. Drop me a line and share your thoughts!

I'm still looking for stories to use on my K.I.D.S.S. page. Any stories about kids and what they are doing in their community or the life of another person are welcome!

Thanks for reading my blog!

LAST WORDS

He came to work for us a few months ago, just one of many of the counselors who come and go at the residential child care facility where I work. He was a quiet man, a man who always had a smile and a cheerful "hello" whenever he was coming on or going off shift. Sometimes we greeted each other in passing when we worked different shifts, sometimes we worked the same shift.

I'll call him "David", even though that wasn't his real name.

Our facility experienced a severe cutback recently, and "David's" hours were reduced to a 24-hour week. He was transferred to one of the other units, but since I do the filing at night, I saw him at least once a week. Worry lines had formed above his beard, the same kind of worry that plagues many Americans during this trying time where there is not enough work and not enough money to meet all the bills. Still, he always greeted me with that warm smile and gentle voice.

I knew very little about his personal life. I've learned a lot more over the past few days.

I wonder what my last words were when I spoke to him a week ago Monday night (early Tuesday morning) when I was on his unit filing in the charts. Did I thank him for unlocking the chart cabinet? Did I jokingly tell him to "get to work" as I walked out the door? Did I bid him a good night? Did I say, "see ya next week"? Would I have said something different if I had known the words I spoke were the last ones he would hear from me?

I'm still shocked at the news that greeted me when I went back to work this past Sunday night. The police had called sometime earlier in the evening to notify our facility that "David" was found dead in his home. He was 51 years old.

"David" and I talked about work, the weather, the elections back in November, favorite TV shows, and any number of other subjects. I had the impression from the opinions he voiced that he was a man of faith, but I never asked. I wonder if he knew Jesus and if he is resting peacefully in the arms of the Lord now.

Strange how easy it is to talk to people we don't know that well about almost every subject except the one that is most important. How often do we ask those we know if they believe in God? If they know Jesus? If they know where they are going when they die?

I wish I had known some of the problems "David" was facing, living in a home with no heat, his fears about his mom who was recently diagnosed with a major illness, his concerns about his kids. I don't know that I could have done anything to help, but I could have prayed.

Tomorrow I will go to "David's" memorial service and mourn with those who knew him much better than I. Even though he is one of many people who have crossed my path over the years, I will miss him.

I hope to see him again when the Lord calls me home.

Thanks for reading my blog.

A GLIMPSE OF THE FUTURE

Well, some of my questions about the future have been answered since I last wrote. The results of my medical tests came back and everything is fine. Well, almost. The doctor had wanted me to undergo endoscopy because I am anemic and also lacking in Vitamin B12. The endoscopy revealed no sign of cancer or any abnormality, but I still need to follow up with my doc about the anemia. In the meantime, I'm taking the B12, iron, and Vitamin C he prescribed - when I remember.

I admit it. I'm a nurse and hardly ever forget to give one of my patients their medications, but when it comes to my own, I have a brain freeze. Seems I only remember to take my own pills when I see my husband taking his. Maybe that stems from the dislike I have for swallowing pills, although I've kind of gotten used to that. There are certain pills I just refuse to take, though. Like those horribly huge vitamins that feel like they are wrapped in sandpaper. No way! Not for me! I've been taking Calcium on a regular basis, but when hubby replenished our supply the other day and purchased the regular Calcium and not the gel-caps that are nice and soft and slither down easily, well, forget it. My body will just have to be Calcium deprived until I can get out to Wal-mart myself and get the kind of pills I can handle.

Okay, on to the next unanswered question in my life. I haven't met her yet, but I now know the name of the lady who will be our new boss at work. I'm excited for the changes a new person to our organization will bring. It wasn't until the announcement was made that I fully realized how relieved I was to have not been selected for the Director of Nursing position. I didn't relish the thought of returning to full time. Let someone younger face the demands and the long hours associated with that job! I'll be content to do my two or three days a week.

Our reading group is starting the new year with one of the classics, To Kill A Mockingbird. One of our members, a former English teacher, spoke so highly of that book as her favorite that I finally suggested we read it as a group. I know I must have read it sometime in my life, but it was one of those books whose character names I recognized, yet I could not tell at any point in the story what was coming next. I thought it was a great book to read in parallel with the inauguration of President Obama. What a long way our country has come in the area of race relations! I am thankful for that.

I've heard from members of one of the critique groups I'm in, which has prompted me to again revisit my novel and start sending work to them. It's been a while since I sent anything to anyone for review. I'm excited about the prospect of getting busy with writing again. I haven't written out any elaborate plan for this year, but I hope to make more progress than I have in the past. Sometimes I wish I could quit the part-time job and just write, but the way the economy is, that's not such a good idea right now!

I plan to balance my fiction reading with some non-fiction choices this year. It's been a while since I read a good writing craft book (I have a couple I purchased last year and still haven't read). Then, I want to read a few books that will deepend my faith journey. I started this year with a book my sister sent me for Christmas, Max Lucado's "Cure for the Common Life". It's a great book that has caused me to take a long look at my life, where I've been and where I'm going.

I think when a person gets to be my age, where more of my life is behind me than ahead of me, I try harder to make every day count for something. My main goal is to give the glory to God, whether writing or reading, working or enjoying my family, for the good days, the bad days, the trials and the triumphs. I'm going to work on smiling more and complaining less, looking for the strengths in people and overlooking the weaknesses, building up instead of tearing down, and bringing light to the lives of others instead of contributing to the darkness.

Thanks for reading my blog.

PAST YEARS AND FUTURE FEARS

Greetings, everyone! Hope this Christmas season was the most joyous one for all and that a bright, healthy, happy, and very blessed future waits for each and every one of you in 2009!

Where have I been this whole Christmas season? Goodness, I can't believe how the time flew by! Our regular night nurse, who had taken a few days off to be with her husband while he underwent surgery, ended up hospitalized herself and was out of work for close to three weeks. So, I picked up her shifts in the midst of getting ready for Christmas and for our son and DIL's visit from New York. I don't ever mind working for my dear friend, but the night shift seems to eat up the hours more than any other.

Anyway, Christmas Day came and, even though I was sure I wouldn't be, I was ready for it. the tree got up and decorated, all the gifts were wrapped, Christmas cards sent, some of the bills were even paid before the big day rolled around. Despite the rush, I had plenty of time to ruminate on the meaning of Christmas on the day itself. I had a nice long drive to pick up the kids at the airport that day. I listened to my favorite Christian radio station and enjoyed the Christmas carols they played. Sometimes I turned the radio down and just let myself get lost in my own thougts of Christmases past.

It's amazing to think that the center of attention at gift opening time is now a seven-year old granddaughter instead of our own former seven-year old daughter and her six-year old brother. The daughrer is now mom to the granddaughter and the son has made a life for himself and his wife of four years in New York City.

Twenty years ago on Christmas morning, I never would have dreamed that someday we would be sharing the joy of Christmas with the people we do now, our precious granddaughter, her dad, our son's sweet wife, members of her family, people who were totally unknown to us not that long ago. Conversely, a twinge of sadness stabs my heart when I think of those who have passed from our lives over the past twenty years. My dad. My husband's mom. Countless relatives and friends I used to send Christmas cards to who have left this world.

I wonder about the next twenty years, or thirty, or forty, or how many more God will give me and who I will meet during that time. How many people will enter our lives that we can't even begin to imagine today? What influence will we have on them? What impact will they have on our lives? Sometimes I wish I knew, but most of the time, I'm glad I don't. It is the element of surprise that makes life exciting, and who is better at giving that gift of surprise than God?

He makes every day a present to be unwrapped, exclaimed over, and treasured. Some of the presents are so common and ordinary that they are soon forgotten, like the candy bar a child finds in her stocking and eats without a second thought about it. Some presents are disappointments, gifts that aren't quite what we expected, but in looking back, they teach a life lesson about gratitude and appreciation for the giver. Most gifts, though, are a pure delight, something that reflects the love of the giver and holds its value in our hearts for years to come.

One of those gifts is the gift, I believe, of the unkonwn. Wouldn't life be so different if we knew everything that was going to happen to us? If we could see into the future, the pleasure of those unexpected joys would be overshadowed by the trials that lie ahead. I think that, during the low times in our lives, the times of sorrow and despair and discouragement, it is the surprise of unexpected joy and happiness that puts life back into perspective.

I started this year facing the uncertainty of testing for a medical condition. The procedure wasn't bad at all. The prep was a lot worse. Four liters of liquid to be consumed in four hours. Let me tell you, that's a lot of drinking! LOL! I'm still awaiting the results of the test, but I feel confident that whatever they are, the Lord will guide me through whatever He has in store as far as my health is concerned.

Work has its uncertainties too. We've done a lot of downsizing in order to deal with these trying economic times, just as many other organizations have had to do. We're hoping to come back stronger than ever, serving troubled kids and helping them through a difficult time in their lives. Our boss has resigned his position, so someone else will soon be taking charge, and that always leads to changes and adjustments. I'm looking forward to that with excited anticipation. I've applied for the position myself, but not one bit sure that is where the Lord wants me right now. I'll probably find out sometime in the next couple of weeks.

Our daughter plans to take some testing that may lead to a promotion for her job. Our son and daughter-in-law may be living in a different part of the country, maybe the world, by next Christmas. Our first-grade granddaughter is discovering new things every day, especially since she loves to read and the written word opens up all kinds of learning adventures for her.

I have great plans to write some articles and submit them, work on my novel, and continue writing for my church newsletter. I'd like to be a lot more aggressive about seeking markets, even for small pieces that can gain me some credit in the writing world. Only the Lord knows what new friends I will make and contacts I will cultivate in the writing world this year.

So many unknowns to look forward to! I'm excited to see 2009 unfold! I hope you are too!

NOTE: I'm seeking stories of "Kids Into Doing Something Spectacular" for my K.I.D.S.S. page. Please refer to it for my story about Justus Stewart. If you have something you think may fit what I'm looking for, please contact me via the site. Thanks!

Thanks for reading my blog.