* Tongue in Cheek *

The History of the Flower

Rain, sun, earth, seed, root, stem, flower, fallen petal...         

We are one and the same at different moments throughout the day.

Non Chora

Unlike the other days were I held back my tears, I cried.

I couldn't hold back, fatigue reigned.

In Portuguese he begged me over and over again, "Non chora."

Then he called me by my childhood nickname, softly.

Which released every ounce of my grown up ways,

Putting my head to his pillow I felt his hand on my face.

Home is here.

photo: My daughter Chelsea.

The New Shape of Normal

Anyone who knows my mother knows she does not sit still. She is a Matriarch-o-holic, bakes up a storm, volunteers for everything, has a wild garden, is a neat freak, and has a million adoring grandchildren around her...

But when life changes routines change too. The shape of normal changes. Either one rolls into the new shape or wrestles with acceptance. My mom adjusted to the new shape of her changed life within a matter of seconds.... she is incredible when push comes to shove...she rolled as easy as cookie dough.

Though last weekend when my mom started not to feel so well the new shape of normal went through another change. (My mom has been staying with my father during the day, and as you know I have been staying with him at night.)   

Since my mom wasn't feeling well she continued to stay with my brother Marty and his wife Suzy.  Yesterday when I went by to see how she was my sister in law said, "You won't believe it, but your mom has changed." Without waiting for my response she continued, "Your mom was in her nightgown all day, watching movies (My mom never watches movies, let alone hangs out in her nightgown!) My sister in law went on to say, "And she caressed our cat on HER LAP!! " My mother does not like cats like most people don't like mice. But when my sister in law added, "It gets better.... are you sitting down?" I was afraid to say anything, but Suzy continued regardless of my shock, "Your mom left the breakfast dishes in the sink!"

The shape of normal seems to be ever changing. First my father enters the hospital, and now my mother is leaving the dirty breakfast dishes in the sink.

I long for some good old fashion normality.

note: My cousin Judy coined the expression "The new shape of normal." Plus my mother is doing better after five days of being sick in bed, watching movies, petting the cat and leaving the dishes dirty in the sink.

The Rose

   

   

The Rose 
Bette Midler

Some say love, it is a river
That drowns the tender reed.
Some say love, it is a razor
That leaves your soul to bleed.
Some say love, it is a hunger,
An endless aching need.
I say love, it is a flower,
And you it's only seed.

It's the heart, afraid of breaking,
That never learns to dance.
It's the dream, afraid of waking,
That never takes a chance.
It's the one who won't be taken,
Who cannot seem to give.
And the soul, afraid of dyin',
That never learns to live.

When the night has been too lonely,
And the road has been too long,
And you think that love is only
For the lucky and the strong,
Just remember in the winter
Far beneath the bitter snows,
Lies the seed, that with the sun's love,
In the spring becomes the rose.

Gathering Wisdom

Compassion is what I feel from those of you who have left comments on my blog especially during this time with my father's illness. Many of you have experienced a similar journey, and your reflective comments on life, love, growing older, letting go, faith, saying good bye... have helped me and others.

Thank you for sharing your thoughts, your generosity of prayers and steadfast support, it has been and continues to give me hope.

                                           

When I first learned about my father's illness I thought I would stop blogging. I thought since my blog was about my life in France, and my French antique addiction that writing about my father would change it drastically, and few would be interested hearing about such sadness. But I realized that blogging about my emotions and experiences helped me cope and stay in touch. Plus my blog is about my personal journey regardless if it is in France, with antiques, or suffering.

What an extraordinary feeling it is to have your support. To know that there are people out there who I do not know but feel connected to, to sense community, to be able to share what I am feeling and feel understood. Thank you for sharing my journey, and at the same time sharing yours with me.

What wisdom is gathered by listening, by exposing oneself to the university and having light come and touch the path ahead with grace and gentleness.

How could anyone doubt the power of loving one another.

"It is only with one's heart that one can see clearly. What is essential is invisible to the eye."

"On  ne  voit  bien  qu' avec  le  coeur.  L' essentiel  est
invisible  pour  les  yeux ."

Antoine de Saint-Exupery, The Little Prince (Thank you Lisette.)

Stand by Me

Today marks 75 days that my father has been in the hospital. 75 days he has been in bed, I never saw my father in bed before this moment. 75 days that he has not been at home or walked in the fields, or been on his motorcycle...

I have been by his side 72 days for hours on end. I have come to know my father intimately... I have seen him endure many things, seen how he handles pain, frustration and how he copes with letting go and letting be.  He is an amazing man. I wonder if I would be as strong.

When you stay in one place in silence, alone with suffering the path of reflection gives way, either one runs or follows. If one stays the lessons are many and worthy.

The other day he tapped on my arm saying, he loved me and then thank you. Of course my eyes welled up with tears but when he added, "I wish I had more daughters." I instantly grinned adding, "I would be sooooooooooooooo jealous!" We laughed at that.

There is a glimmer of something good no matter how awful the situation is, something that allows you to hold on and get by.

It is in these small moments that light pours in transforming the reality allowing tenderness to heal this journey.

It might seem odd but I feel I have been offered a gift to witness my father on this part of his journey... Oh the sacred holiness of life, to stand at the edge of the cliff knowing that we are not alone.

Awareness is a good tool to have in One's Pocket.

                              

             "We miss more by not seeing, than by not Knowing." Sir William Osler

To look beyond and hear the song within the soul-  to have an awareness of self that within each beginning bud the petals of a rose will bloom. To heed to the unseen, that which we feel, that which we are without knowing why--

To see with our hearts,

To listen with our eyes, to speak with our actions,

& to love regardless of the gain.

Eau de Vie

"Dear Corey" the email began.

Followed by, "A steady flow of love to you."

"Let it pour!" I laughed, and then felt refilled in a blink of an eye!

French Husband you are too much!

With Each Heart Beat

                                 

My father's illness is complicated. The doctors and nurses are amazed how he has survived this long. My father though far from going home is off the breathing machine. He is extremely weak- though not in pain. His heart and mind remain strong and alert, though they have never been a problem. He cannot move but is starting to lift his forearms and voice. His lungs remain coarse and frail barely keeping infection at bay. He is a fighter and tough as nails most people would have caved in to the test of endurance that his body has gone through. Long is the journey ahead of him, he is far from out of the woods. It is evident that he has been reborn a million times during these two and a half months.

                                  

I am nervous writing this not wanting to speak too soon or jinx the outcome...

Following the signs of spring though in the midst of winter, she took the first rose pinning it to her breast. With each beat of her heart the perfume rose guiding her steps.

Missing Croissants and More

               

A taste of France would surely do me good. But since that is not going to happen anytime soon I will have to settle on emails, odd hour phone calls and photos stored on my laptop.... Though if my heart still is a fluttered I'm gonna go to a department store find the cologne section and drown myself with *Eau Sauvage de Dior Homme.

Photo: A croissant from the "good bakery" from the French village where I live.

*The only cologne French husband wears.