This was a shot of me and Tad minutes after we arrived at Hermitage Bay on Monday. In spite of the 40-minute INSANE taxi ride from the airport...in spite of having sweated through the streets of Old San Juan earlier in the day, don't we look giddy with anticipation?
In just a few hours we have to go home. We're not quite so giddy with anticipation about that (although, gosh I miss my babies--this is the longest I've ever been away from all three of them at the same time).
There's no place like home....but there's no place like Hermitage Bay either.
LOTS more coming soon...
Before we head out for a last few minutes in paradise, for fun, look what else greeted us on our arrival--
Icy, wet washcloths---mmmmmm, who knew wet terry cloth could feel SO good?
I just looked at Bloglines for the first time this week, and oh, my WORD people have been writing a whole lot of something! I HAD to clear it--4,000+ blog posts I haven't read??? Where the heck would you start? Where the heck would someone begin who can't choose among chocolate, strawberry and vanilla (metaphorically speaking, because OF COURSE I always choose chocolate ;) )?!
I did notice one of my old blogging buds had resumed writing after a months' long hiatus (figures), but other than that, even skimming was too confusing.
So....help me out here...
You know when you've written something you're really quite fond of, and you wish it would be read by all your blogging buddies and even a few non-commenting readers, but the timing isn't great (or for whatever other reason), so it doesn't get read, and then you write some more, and that post falls into obscurity, but doggone it, it was GOOD, and you hate seeing it bumped further and further down your page until it's no longer on your opening page?
Tell me what I've missed of yours :). If you comment here (between now and the weekend), I'm ASKING you to link to your favorite post over the past week (or whenever...!) and it'll be among the first things I read when I resume blog surfing. Or, if you're feeling generous, tell me the BEST post YOU'VE read of someone else's and I'll check that out, too.
For the first time in my life, this week I have...
... used a Passport ... traveled outside the United States ... snorkeled along a Caribbean coral reef ... had my hair plaited in 57 braids by a near-toothless native Dominican (no, I'm not in the Dominican) ... sun bathed on a newd (purposely misspelled) beach (nope, I wasn't nekkid) (but I saw some people who were) (not that I was looking) ... eaten mofungo, watched four elderly couples dance in the streets of Old San Juan, toured an old Fort and had a cat stalk me
... escaped to Fantasy Island. Thank goodness Mr. Roarke and Tattoo aren't here, Michael and Rosyln are :).
(If you have time, this will probably make more sense if you read it in the order it was written. Part One, Part Two)
I wasn't there that morning
When my Father passed away
I didn't get to tell him
All the things I had to say
Looking back, my father was sick for a long time--years--before diagnosis. I use that word loosely because with Alzheimer's, and more specifically with him, Lewy Bodies, the early symptoms are subtle and excusable. Interestingly, I'm convinced he knew better than anyone else that his mind was escaping his body in pieces, and he did his best to open lines of communication that had previously been closed. We observed him trying to bring closure to business affairs, controlling the things he could with a sometimes frantic desperation to bring order and resolution. Many of these things would have future impact on us (his children and his wife); I think he was attempting to simplify those effects.
As I read...re-read...and eventually read again the comments from the prior two "Living Years" posts, I was moved; my heart ached after hearing the incomplete stories you began to share. When you've lived unresolved relationship, you hear with a clarity not accessible to the unacquainted. Not only did I hear what was said, I heard those unspoken, sometimes broken thoughts you dared not utter.
Speaking them can bring them to life...it gives them a strength you'd rather not allow.
After my sister was diagnosed with breast cancer 10 years ago, Daddy changed. In his own way, he began reaching out to his children in a way he hadn't before. He was scared--the thought of losing his first-born must have been horrifying!
Sadly, I think I was somewhat hardened towards his overtures; throughout my college years I wanted him to be interested, invested in my life. Now that he was making more of an effort, I didn't respond in kind. I certainly wasn't disrespectful or discourteous, but there was a learned detachment that was slow to dissolve. Walls of self-preservation had been erected long ago, and to avoid putting myself in a position to be hurt or rejected by him, my life was easily filled with my husband, children, friends and activity. It's important to note that his rejection was more a sin of "omission" (things you should've done, but didn't) than "comission" (things you shouldn't have done, but did).
I think I caught his spirit
Later that same year
I'm sure I heard his echo
In my baby's new born tears
I just wish I could have told him in the living years
One day about two years ago, overnight my father's health took a catastrophic turn for the worse. He went from being able to function independently--driving, dressing himself, eating normally, etc.--to not being able to do a thing. Although we'll never know for sure, we have reason to believe it was an adverse reaction to a drug he was given. He was in the hospital over two months, near death on more than one occasion, but eventually came home with 24-hour care. He was confined to bed for 14 months and during that time there were only hints of recognition.
Because we wanted to give his wife a much-needed break (and because around-the-clock care is not only expensive, it's unreliable), my siblings and I took turns traveling to their home to help care for him. Without going into the horrific details of parent-child role reversal, it was a blistering living hell--for him and for us. If you've lived it, you know what I mean.
This is the saddest truth: I spent more time with Daddy his last year and a half of life than I have for the past 20 years combined...and the man was out of his mind.
Say it loud, say it clear You can listen as well as you hear It's too late when we die To admit we don't see eye to eye
There is a beauty in this brokenness...slivers of redemption among shards of regret--
I looked at my father for the first time in a long, long time. I looked at him, I watched him, I saw things I hadn't seen before. He was 75 but had amazing skin, very few wrinkles. How could I have missed that? Without remembering I was his daughter (which was the case more often than not), he told me I was the "prettiest thing he had ever seen", in his own way, still telling me I was a princess. When he thought of something funny, the twinkle returned to his eye and his laughter transported me back to happier times in his life.
Mostly, though, it was opportunity to just be with him, serve him, and learn what it meant to honor him when it wasn't particularly pleasant to do so. I thought of all MY sins of omission where he was concerned and realized that in spite of both of our emotionally-protective walls and unmet expectations, we loved each other, and for us, that has to be enough.
I don't live with a lot of regret, but are there things I wish, in retrospect, I would have done differently? Absolutely.
I would have pursued him, I would have endured uncomfortable conversations to forge an intimacy of knowing each other we never found. Because intuitively I knew he didn't want to "go there" (and "go there" meant a thousand different things), I never pressed, I didn't ask...and he didn't offer.
It's not that I have it all figured out or have all the answers--I don't even know all the questions (wink)! But...but...I KNOW there are a million daughters just.like.me. Little girls living inside a woman's steel magnolia frame who simply want to know their fathers, to share life, and for HIM to be the one to initiate it.
And I write this to tell you...gently...it probably isn't going to happen that way (if it hasn't already).
But it can happen, I believe that.
It's gonna have to be you in the driver's seat. And it's worth it, it will be worth it. Of course there are damaged, abusive relationships between father and child--I can't begin to speak to that type of estrangement :(. For those who are like me, though, I think there's a way to intimacy; it takes courage and determination and initiative. It requires a sacrifice of your "rights", it demands forgiveness, it means loving in a way that doesn't necessarily come naturally. Because I hold scripture in esteem and believe it to speak truth and to reveal the nature and character of God, it seems this is certainly a way to honor your father (parents).
For a few friends of mine IRL who've admitted some of what I'm sharing here--I practically beg them to take the first steps towards a deeper relationship with their parents. Consider this a "beg" to my cyber friends....I wonder if someone had kicked me in the behind five years ago if I would have heard...and responded....
This is the last picture I took of my dad...it was taken with my cell phone a few weeks before his death; I knew it would be the last time I photographed him and it seemed important.
Funny, the reason I began writing what has now become a three-part series was simply to post this picture after I read Jenny's request for pictures. Somehow, I got off track...imagine that :/.
I can't think of a better way to end this post than with the closing words of "Living Years" and to share the music with those of you who are unfamiliar. Enjoy~
Say it loud, say it clear
Say it loud
Don't give up
Don't give in
And don't know what you can do next
Recently, John Piper had a book sale--$5 for any book available from Desiring God. Hardback, soft cover, didn't matter, the price was good for anything!
Five dollars?! I went a bit overboard by "accidentally" buying 19, yes NINETEEN, books!
How in the world do I decide which one to read first?
Why, I know--I'll ask YOU! If you're a JP fan, please weigh in--I wanna know which book is your favorite and why. Also, if you'd be selflessly willing to post my question on your blog with a link back to this post (so your readers can comment here with their recommendations), I'll send you a copy of "For Your Joy" (well, the first ten people who are interested and willing to share their address*). This is no attempt to generate traffic...I sincerely wanna know where to begin! :)
We're headed out of town this weekend, so the quicker your thoughts, the more helpful (I sure don't wanna take 19 books on my trip!). Of course, if you're reading this after the fact and have an opinion, I'd still like to hear your thoughts; it might help prioritize reading my Piper library ;).
If you aren't familiar with John Piper, surf around his website...get to know more about him and his ministry. He's one of the most honorable men of God I know of and his writing is deep and profound and gospel-immersed; his mantra is "God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in him." He explains that (and so much more) on his website and in his books.
Piper's humility and generosity are admirable and atypical in today's landscape of mega-televangelists--if you can't afford his books, he (DG) will give them to you. Seriously. Without further obligation. Unbelievable, especially if you beginning comparing him to others....
Thanks for your time, and if you choose to ask your readers their thoughts, your generosity :).
* It'll be a while before I send out these books...I'm out of town next week and I'm way behind on sending out my "Pay it Forwards" among other things. Discombobulated = procrastination. Love me in spite of myself...PLEASE? :)
Every once in a blue moon, I have a hankering for a Blue Moon, and as I was passing our back door (to the garage), something caught my eye. My personal bandit.
Outside of Fun Monday and a post here or there, I've been absent from the blogosphere...I haven't even been able to respond to comments here at Pensieve, let alone comment elsewhere :/. Y'all have your "stuff", wanna know mine?
If ya do............
Reason #1 is our kitchen is in phase 312 of our renovation--this time, the kitchen cabinets are going from oak to black- destresseddistressed (I'm so shaken up I can't even SPELL!) painting (meaning, I'm de one stressed). I'm too discombobu- lated to post those pictures at the moment (they're on my lappy, I'm on our PC), but last night while I was cleaning and peeling layer after layer of black paint dust off every surface in our kitchen, this mutha had the nerve to scare the ever-livin' snot outta me.
I don't know what his official name is, but I call him a "brown porcupine-butt mean mutha of a spider". I'm pretty sure this picture was its actual size.
Anyhoo....more later...and thanks for all your advice and continued visits. One day I'll be back to "normal" :/.
UPDATE:
WHAT THE HEEBIE-flippin-GEEBIES?! Everyone who has commented so far tonight informed me that pine-cone behind on this monster arachnid is not a behind at all but TEN SQUILLION BABY SPIDERS! S.K.I.N. C.R.A.W.L.I.N.G...!!! My hand was three inches from him--wait...make that HER!! And because I wanted my youngest to see it (I knew he'd appreciate it since he was in bed at midnight when I found him her), I put a jar over it, slid a sheet of paper under it and CAPTURED IT! And if that wasn't bad enough, I LET IT GO this morning.
