Musing on Life
In which I've hidden the familial trials behind the cut.
Friday my family was supposed to go out to dinner together. Me, my Mom, my Dad, my husband, my sister. We were all excited, going to a good restaurant. My sister had spent the night, as she usually does. My Dad showed up without my Mom. She had wanted to go, but felt so sick, so dizzy, so unable to walk and move that food sounded awful to her. So four of us went out.
My father was obviously very worried about my mother. So worried that his order to the waiter was gibberish, and I had to translate for him. It was eye-opening. Here was my father, my intelligent, could juggle 50 thought 'balls' at once, precise and careful and caring father, and he couldn't string an order together. We talked about Mom. There is nothing we can do. She's not going to do what either of us would do. And we can't make her. We don't even know her pain, perhaps it's overwhelming. Perhaps not. We don't know. But what I do know is it's tearing the family down, slowly, surely. Maybe all ageing is like that. Dad's 77. Mom's 71. Dad's more frail, weaker than he was even 3 years ago, but he still works outside for hours in the day, he's still strong. He still TRIES. Mom, not so much.
So it got me to thinking, remembering. And my thoughts wandered, as they will.
I ended up on youtube watching a Neil Diamond concert. Bear with me here. Mom was a huge fan of Neil Diamond. Huge. In fact, I think his was the first concert I ever saw, at like, 8 years old. She listened to his music constantly as I was young, into my late teens. I heard it driving, in the house while cleaning, sung in her glorious voice (my Mom had a beautiful singing voice before old age hit), dancing around the living room with three kids clinging to her legs or standing on her feet. I, personally, was never a fan, and don't own a single track of his. So, I thought, I'll download this concert for Mom, she'll like it. I had to watch it to download it. So, I listened to it while sewing and not looking at the screen much.
I knew every damn word to every damn song. Even the B-sides. Even the ones that never made a single. Every word. And darned if some of those songs didn't make me cry. Words that I didn't even parse as a child now ring with significance.
So for everyone who has lost someone recently, everyone facing the slow spiral into old age and death of a much loved sibling, parent, friend, partner, I give you this from Mr. Diamond:
Friday my family was supposed to go out to dinner together. Me, my Mom, my Dad, my husband, my sister. We were all excited, going to a good restaurant. My sister had spent the night, as she usually does. My Dad showed up without my Mom. She had wanted to go, but felt so sick, so dizzy, so unable to walk and move that food sounded awful to her. So four of us went out.
My father was obviously very worried about my mother. So worried that his order to the waiter was gibberish, and I had to translate for him. It was eye-opening. Here was my father, my intelligent, could juggle 50 thought 'balls' at once, precise and careful and caring father, and he couldn't string an order together. We talked about Mom. There is nothing we can do. She's not going to do what either of us would do. And we can't make her. We don't even know her pain, perhaps it's overwhelming. Perhaps not. We don't know. But what I do know is it's tearing the family down, slowly, surely. Maybe all ageing is like that. Dad's 77. Mom's 71. Dad's more frail, weaker than he was even 3 years ago, but he still works outside for hours in the day, he's still strong. He still TRIES. Mom, not so much.
So it got me to thinking, remembering. And my thoughts wandered, as they will.
I ended up on youtube watching a Neil Diamond concert. Bear with me here. Mom was a huge fan of Neil Diamond. Huge. In fact, I think his was the first concert I ever saw, at like, 8 years old. She listened to his music constantly as I was young, into my late teens. I heard it driving, in the house while cleaning, sung in her glorious voice (my Mom had a beautiful singing voice before old age hit), dancing around the living room with three kids clinging to her legs or standing on her feet. I, personally, was never a fan, and don't own a single track of his. So, I thought, I'll download this concert for Mom, she'll like it. I had to watch it to download it. So, I listened to it while sewing and not looking at the screen much.
I knew every damn word to every damn song. Even the B-sides. Even the ones that never made a single. Every word. And darned if some of those songs didn't make me cry. Words that I didn't even parse as a child now ring with significance.
So for everyone who has lost someone recently, everyone facing the slow spiral into old age and death of a much loved sibling, parent, friend, partner, I give you this from Mr. Diamond:
Click to view