Tag: life

Posted on

Grief

I had so many things to share with my dad this week. I won at Scrabble, which never happens since the other women I play with are exceptionally good. The temperature hit 100 today, which is really high for the area I live in, while in Palm Desert, where he lived, it hit 101, which is kind of low for this time of year. My AC went out two days ago when it also hit 100 (they got it fixed within 24 hours, but it still got awfully hot in my apartment). I got a new sofa.

As you can see, it’s not earth-shattering things I’d be sharing with him. But it was the kind of thing that could keep us talking for two hours on a Sunday afternoon.

Only problem is, my dad died on May 4th of this year.

Most of you who follow my blog know he died after a brief battle with pancreatic cancer. It was a shock, he was so healthy, he didn’t take any medication and was extremely active. Family history said he should have lived another eight to ten years.

And now I’m battling my grief. I can’t share the simplest things with him, not to mention some of the bigger things, like leaving my job and getting my gall bladder out, both of which happened in the last month. I’m happy and I’m healthy. I want him to know that.

I know all about the stages of grief–denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. I’m not sure where I’m at. I’m past denial. I’m not even sure that one lasted very long. I don’t really feel a great deal of anger and I haven’t done any bargaining. I don’t feel depressed, but I don’t think I’m fully at acceptance either. I simply miss my dad.

Today would have been the day I call him. I probably would have brought up football as well, since we’re in the pre-season, even though I was the bigger fan. He knew the game really well but rarely watched it. If there was a big game on at the time of our call, he didn’t mind if we postponed a day.

I’m lucky to have reconnected with my dad in the last few years as we had had a tepid relationship for so long. We rarely spoke, although those conversations sometimes were long, and while I knew he loved me I didn’t really feel like he had time for me. He was so busy with his life and frankly, I was busy with mine.

It was after his wife died that we became closer. I barely knew her and had no idea she’d been battling Alzheimer’s. They became virtual recluses until shortly before she died, when he finally put her in a memory care facility.

I called him every day after that for several weeks, then every other day, and eventually we got into our weekly call habit. He flew me out to see him several times and treated me like a princess while I was visiting him. We’d planned another trip for October of this year, but of course that won’t happen.

I think I will miss my dad for a long time.

Richard Ostrowski
1936-2026

Image Credits: Grief header © Anna Lurye–stock.adobe.com; Sun © mimibubu–stock.adobe.com; Happy Girl © Alena–stock.adobe.com

Posted on

Information? Get Me Long Distance…

I learned something interesting the other day when I was on the phone with AT&T trying to correct a problem. They don’t consider phone calls outside of your area code to be long distance. In other words, when I call from Arkansas to my mom in Minnesota, it’s a local call. It’s only when I call out of the country that it’s long distance.

Which makes sense, but let’s face it, the idea of long distance is deeply ingrained in me. Let’s do the nostalgia thing. Remember when calling Grandma on Christmas was a treat because she lived 2,000 miles away and calling any other time was simply too expensive? That’s the way it was in my family.

Now things are different. I have relatives all over the country. Until he died, my dad lived in California. My mom still lives in Minnesota and my brother’s in New York. I don’t think twice about calling my mom every day and letting the call go as long as it goes. I used to talk to my dad every Sunday for up to two hours. My brother and I talk frequently and the calls go long.

But I still think of calling them as calling long distance. Frankly, they are long distance. It’s not like I can get in my car and drive over to visit them. Well, I used to drive up to Minnesota to visit my mom, but my car is older now and has a lot of miles on it. I’m nervous about the thought of driving it alone 650 miles each way.

But I digress. Technology is changing everything, including the way we express ourselves. So now I need to re-think the term “long distance” and get with the times. (Isn’t “get with the times” an older expression?) It makes me wonder what other terminology has changed, making my use of it outdated.

Yep, get me information…

Image Credit © Rawf8–stock.adobe.com

Posted on

Reality vs Romance

Daily writing prompt
Do you believe in soulmates? Why or why not?
View all responses

I’ve found that most people who call someone they’re in love with their soulmate are actually still in the infatuation stage of a relationship. It’s easy to see the connection then–everything seems perfect. You both like the same food, same entertainment, same kinds of pets. You were meant to be.

And that may be true. I do believe, to a certain extent, that there is a power that draws us into relationships. I have friends who’ve been happily married for forty years or more. I was there when they first met each other and lived through the ups and downs of courtship and the forces that brought them to the ultimate decision: we’ll get married.

Those friends can tell me they’re with their soulmates and I’ll believe them. You go through that many years of marriage and you’ve seen the ups and downs of life together–sometimes, perhaps, less together than you’d want to be, but in the end, you’re still with that same person.

Interestingly, though, I’ve never had a friend or relative who’s been in a long-term relationship call their significant other “my soulmate.” Perhaps, like me, they see that as a naive belief. When you’re together for a long time, you discover there are a lot of differences between the two of you, and you’re not the perfect match you initially thought you were.

That’s not to say that your relationship is bad. People are flawed, and it’s sometimes difficult to discover those flaws in someone we love. But that’s also the beauty of settling in to being together. You learn to work it out. You learn to love.

I had a boyfriend who ended up breaking up with me because he didn’t think we were soulmates. I asked him what he thought a soulmate was, and he said it was someone you were completely in sync with. You never disagreed with each other because you were destined to live happily ever after.

Yeah, he’s still single.

Image Credits: Couple Holding Hands (header) © Pete–stock.adobe.com; Birds in Love © Celestynka–stock.adobe.com

Posted on

Been There?

Daily writing prompt
What’s something most people don’t understand?
View all responses

Another broad question that I find difficult to answer. Is it something about me they don’t understand, something about politics, something about religion, or something about, say, cats? And most people? I hate to judge what others do or do not understand.

But I’m experiencing something first-hand now that I only knew about second-hand from other people, and that is, when an aging parent gets ill. My dad has pancreatic cancer. For those who don’t know, that’s not good. The five-year survival rate is about nil and generally it’s not caught until it’s too late.

Until very recently I could brag about how healthy my dad was. He took no medications (he called his vitamins his “medication”), he had no illnesses, he was very active. At the age of 89, he golfed three times a week, bowled twice a week, played bridge one or two times a week, and played bocce ball once a week. He chose to stay active. That doesn’t count all the sudoku and math games he played.

Then, in January, he began experiencing some pain in his side. It took a month, but they finally diagnosed the cancer. I was in shock. My exceptionally healthy dad has pancreatic cancer? It is stage three and as far as we know, it hasn’t spread to his lungs or lymph nodes. He’s started chemo, but there have been setbacks and they’ve had to cancel his chemo treatments a couple of times.

I’ll say it again, I’ve been in shock. They say the first stage of grief is denial, but I don’t think I’m in denial. I’ve talked to my friends about it and they sympathize. Coming to grips with an aging parent’s mortality is tough. My dad’s attitude is great, and if that has anything to do with it, he’ll live quite awhile longer.

I’m going out to see him soon and I’ll see for myself what’s going on. In the meantime, I’m learning I don’t understand what’s happening. I guess most of us don’t until we go through it ourselves. I’ve always tried to understand, but I realize now my understanding was superficial.

Maybe that’s what most people don’t understand: you can’t truly know until you’ve been there yourself.

Image Credit: Header: © Lila Patel–stock.adobe.com

Posted on

Bang, Bang You’re It

Daily writing prompt
What was the best compliment you’ve received?
View all responses

I can’t say this was necessarily the best, but it’s the one that’s stayed with me for more than fifty years. In junior high (now known as middle school) I wore my hair like everyone else did in those days–straight, long and parted down the middle. Looking back, it was hardly the most flattering fashion, on me and most others. But that was the style.

One Christmas vacation, for reasons I can’t remember, I decided I wanted bangs. I was pleased with the result and looked forward to showing off my new hair style when I got back to school. Unfortunately, most of my friends either didn’t like it or didn’t care and said nothing. But one boy did.

“I like your bangs,” he told me. “It makes your face look less round.”

I never was quite sure that my bangs really did make my face look less round, but a boy had noticed my hair. Not a boy I was particularly interested in, but one whom I wouldn’t have expected a compliment from.

I’m not naming him, even with a pseudonym. It took me years to realize he was interested in more than my hair. He liked me. I was shy and decidely not popular, he was outgoing and quite a hit with everyone. Unfortunately, by the time I recognized his interest, I was in my 30s and hadn’t seen him in more than fifteen years.

But back to my hair. From that time in seventh grade until now I’ve always worn bangs. Not so much because a boy said he liked it, but because he was right. Bangs do look better on me.

So from me to this unnamed boy (now both senior citizens, good grief): thank you. And I’m sorry I didn’t see you for who you really were.

Image Credit: Header © Felippe Lopes–stock.adobe.com