A story of mothers and fathers
I have a bunch to get off my chest, so here it goes:
It seems my grandmother is in a downward spiral of health. This is my grandmother on my dad's side, whom I did not know very well. A few months ago, she started bleeding, and had to be hospitalized because it wouldn't stop. It went away, and now has come back. She was in the hospital last week, and is now in stable condition. The thing is, she is 92, and lives in a nursing home. About 10 or so years ago, she had a stroke which left her paralyzed on her left side, and she also has fairly strong Alzheimer's. This means that she pretty much needs help doing every task, so life isn't too well for her. In a way, if she dies soon, it will almost be a relief, as her life now is not very good.
I was talking to my dad the other night about it, and he agreed that while obviously it will be very sad, he and my uncle Joel have been waiting for it for a long time. My dad then started talking about how my grandmother was very intelligent, and that she had actually gone to college at age 60 because she had not been able to as a little girl. She knew she wouldn't get a job from it, as she was too old, but she wasn't after work-- she was after the knowledge. He then talked about how he and my uncle had gone through her apartment shortly after she had the stroke and found lots of articles of the magazine "Commentary," with lots of notes scribbled in the margins. As my dad continued about my grandmother pre-stroke, I saw something I would never expect: a smile. My dad was genuinely happy reminiscing about my grandmother before her life turned for the worse, and it made me feel a great amount of sorrow; I have talked to my grandmother maybe two times a year for the past 10 or so years, but her death would not make me the saddest-- it would be the impact on my father.
My dad's dad died when he was in college, so all my dad has left is his mother. To have seen his only living parent live so poorly for the past 10 years made me think about how sad I will be when she dies, even though it will let her be at peace. My dad is flying up to Boston this Friday to be with his brother and mother, and it got me thinking: he knows this will more than likely be the last time he will see his mother alive. The mere thought of this left me speechless, and brought tears to my eyes. The thought of knowingly seeing someone for the last time, let alone a parent is something that is completely unfathomable to me, and my dad must do it this weekend. My deepest love goes out to my father, and if I seem morose within the next few weeks, this is why.
The second thing I would like to say is about my own mom. Doctors found a benign tumor on one of her ovaries, and they feel the best thing to do is do a complete hysterectomy, a major surgery. I have never had a family member undergo major surgery, and quite frankly, this scares me. Since I met Lindsey, my relationship with my mom has soured, because she convinced me to fight and not just shut up for a damned second and appreciate what I have. My mom goes in for surgery on December 3rd or so, after which she will be essentially totally immobile for a month. This has snapped me back to the old me: the one who would just drop the shit, and tell my mom I loved her. I am sure my mom will make it through surgery fine, it's not like this is open-heart surgery, but part of me is scared more than I have ever been in my life.
That's what I wanted to get off my chest. I have one more thing though, a request from all of you:
Get off the computer. Don't worry, this will only take about 30 seconds, though it will probably be the most important thing you've done all day. Get off of your computer, and walk up to your mother, your father, or both and give them a hug. Hug them like it's the last time you'll ever see them, and tell them 'I love you,' and thank them for all they've done.
That, ladies and gentlemen, is all I ask of you. It's so simple, yet I assure you, it will mean the world to your mother or father.
Thanks
Nick
It seems my grandmother is in a downward spiral of health. This is my grandmother on my dad's side, whom I did not know very well. A few months ago, she started bleeding, and had to be hospitalized because it wouldn't stop. It went away, and now has come back. She was in the hospital last week, and is now in stable condition. The thing is, she is 92, and lives in a nursing home. About 10 or so years ago, she had a stroke which left her paralyzed on her left side, and she also has fairly strong Alzheimer's. This means that she pretty much needs help doing every task, so life isn't too well for her. In a way, if she dies soon, it will almost be a relief, as her life now is not very good.
I was talking to my dad the other night about it, and he agreed that while obviously it will be very sad, he and my uncle Joel have been waiting for it for a long time. My dad then started talking about how my grandmother was very intelligent, and that she had actually gone to college at age 60 because she had not been able to as a little girl. She knew she wouldn't get a job from it, as she was too old, but she wasn't after work-- she was after the knowledge. He then talked about how he and my uncle had gone through her apartment shortly after she had the stroke and found lots of articles of the magazine "Commentary," with lots of notes scribbled in the margins. As my dad continued about my grandmother pre-stroke, I saw something I would never expect: a smile. My dad was genuinely happy reminiscing about my grandmother before her life turned for the worse, and it made me feel a great amount of sorrow; I have talked to my grandmother maybe two times a year for the past 10 or so years, but her death would not make me the saddest-- it would be the impact on my father.
My dad's dad died when he was in college, so all my dad has left is his mother. To have seen his only living parent live so poorly for the past 10 years made me think about how sad I will be when she dies, even though it will let her be at peace. My dad is flying up to Boston this Friday to be with his brother and mother, and it got me thinking: he knows this will more than likely be the last time he will see his mother alive. The mere thought of this left me speechless, and brought tears to my eyes. The thought of knowingly seeing someone for the last time, let alone a parent is something that is completely unfathomable to me, and my dad must do it this weekend. My deepest love goes out to my father, and if I seem morose within the next few weeks, this is why.
The second thing I would like to say is about my own mom. Doctors found a benign tumor on one of her ovaries, and they feel the best thing to do is do a complete hysterectomy, a major surgery. I have never had a family member undergo major surgery, and quite frankly, this scares me. Since I met Lindsey, my relationship with my mom has soured, because she convinced me to fight and not just shut up for a damned second and appreciate what I have. My mom goes in for surgery on December 3rd or so, after which she will be essentially totally immobile for a month. This has snapped me back to the old me: the one who would just drop the shit, and tell my mom I loved her. I am sure my mom will make it through surgery fine, it's not like this is open-heart surgery, but part of me is scared more than I have ever been in my life.
That's what I wanted to get off my chest. I have one more thing though, a request from all of you:
Get off the computer. Don't worry, this will only take about 30 seconds, though it will probably be the most important thing you've done all day. Get off of your computer, and walk up to your mother, your father, or both and give them a hug. Hug them like it's the last time you'll ever see them, and tell them 'I love you,' and thank them for all they've done.
That, ladies and gentlemen, is all I ask of you. It's so simple, yet I assure you, it will mean the world to your mother or father.
Thanks
Nick