Ode to Mom and Dad

Not bad for a couple of old folks in their 80's, eh? That's my Mom and Dad. My Dad is 84 and has two kinds of cancer which he has miraculously made temporarily disappear. My Mom is 82 and still hopes to dance in the living room if my Dad can ever remember to come when she calls. :-)

My father is a retired advertising man who was a Managing Director of Ogilvy and Mather, where he worked for almost 30 years. That was back when being an ad man was a good thing. During the Camelot years, as they call them. He taught me about honor, and about how to use my curiosity to keep learning, and how to use that learning to develop tolerance and compassion. That is the legacy he will leave behind when he goes.

My mother was a concert pianist before she married and had a family of six kids. Yes, S-I-X! When I think about how hard it is to raise one or two children, I am filled with more admiration for her than I can possibly express. She did it with her eye focused on our becoming good, educated, healthy, talented and productive adults. She never once let her guard down, and if you look at my family you will see her work continues to this day.

I think it is fair to say her job was more important than my father's, although without his we wouldn't have had the music lessons, the sports, nights at the opera or symphony, or the lovely home with a library filled with books and music.

This post wasn't what I sat down to write, but as a writer I know, sometimes you just have to let the juju work and it will be good. Here is why I ended up writing about them. I was thinking about how Parker's final surgery has been postponed to February. Then I was thinking about the blessings that have occurred in my life as a result of that terrible, horrific time spent earlier this year while he critically ill.

Then I thought about how over the past few weeks I have had two complete strangers email me after they found this blog. One had a father, another a husband who was someones son, who were in the midst of very similar experiences with severe pancreatitis. They wrote to tell me my writing had given them peace and comfort and hope. I can't even express to you what that meant to me, to Parker and to James. That what we endured made a positive difference to someone else.

Then I started thinking about the Literacy for Hope Project that was born from my need to do something to give back after what we went through. I thought of how excited my 82 year old mother is to be a part of this, how it has given her a new purpose when she really needed to feel needed again. And I thought about how I will take her on my birthday next week to deliver books to a homeless shelter in New Jersey, because that is how I want to spend my birthday.

And then I thought about how it was my parents who gave me the ability to get so much joy from spending my birthday that way, and I realized how incredibly lucky I was to have those two people, with all their flaws, and all their dedication, at the helm while I was growing up.

Thanks Mom and Dad. It made a difference.
P.S. I just realized with surprise that today is the 14th, which is the 8 month anniversary of the first time the doctors told me to say goodbye to my son. For the first time since then, I didn't spend the days before this with that burning feeling in the pit of my gut. In fact, I might not have even remembered if I hadn't been writing this post.

Blessings

As I watch this year draw to a close I am tempted to give it a swift kick in the rear. This was not an easy year. But sitting this morning ready to write and listening to Let There Be Peace On Earth, I realize it has been a year filled with more blessings than angst, hidden in the layers of torment. Through quiet reflection I understand I have much to be thankful for.

~ My father lived another year with two kinds of cancer.

~ My mother put away the demons that have made parts of her life so agonizing.

~ My oldest son survived when the doctors said he wouldn’t, and I will spend Christmas night with him.

~ My younger son showed incredible depth of character, lifting me up with surprising strength when I needed him most, and I will spend Christmas morning with him.

~ My breast biopsy was negative.

~ Complete strangers reached out and surrounded me with love during the darkest hour of my life.

~ I lost my job which humbled me and opened many doors to new opportunities.

~ I followed a calling and started an organization that will bring hope to the homeless through the gift of books.

~ I made friends with people across the country who have touched my life with wonder.

~ I rediscovered the gifts of my siblings and put to rest the burdens of the past.

~ I reconnected with God, who sat by my son’s bedside while his brother and I cried, then took our hands and walked beside us every step of the way.

Thank you God, for all these blessings that have given new purpose to my life. Thank you for the gifts of my family, the love of my two sons, and the hope I hold in my hands. I am one lucky girl.

The Literacy for Hope Project

I knew it would come to me, I knew one morning I would wake up and would know what it was I was supposed to do. I am so proud of the result and the work ahead of me, and all the possibilities that that can come from The Literacy for Hope Project.

Below is what I wrote this morning to post on the web site to explain to people who don't know me how this all came about. Please check out the web site: www.literacyforhope.org.

Two things happened in the last few years that brought this project to life. First, I interviewed a woman for a position at my job who had a touching story to tell. Karen was modestly dressed, literate, drove a car, had two children and a husband who worked full time. Unfortunately she didn’t have the necessary skills and I wasn’t able to hire her. But in the course of her interview we began talking and what she said astounded me.

Karen and her family had been homeless the entire time her children were in high school. No one knew, which made the kids lives even more awkward as they tried maintain friendships without revealing their secret. Living in a county where the median income is $76,000 per year, and with their combined incomes of less than $35,000, it took them four years and the generosity of a stranger to help them climb out of homelessness.

I was very touched by Karen’s courage and endurance and what I perceived to be the uniqueness of her situation. In fact I was so moved I made the main character of the novel I was writing a young homeless girl.

This past year my older son spent 4 ½ months in a hospital in TX, eight of those weeks clinging to life in the Critical Care Unit. I lived in the ICU waiting room for many weeks, praying, writing a blog and finishing my novel.

During that time I made friends with a homeless man who showed up a few minutes after 6:00am every day and poured himself a cup of coffee. He was so thin he had to hold his pants up when he walked. I knew he had to be hungry, and while there were many days I lived on peanut butter and graham crackers from the ICU refrigerator, I started leaving him granola bars propped up against the coffee pot. The first time he looked over at me and I nodded. He grabbed the bar and his coffee and left without saying a word.

I left him granola bars everyday, or sometimes when I didn’t have any money I left him the peanut butter and crackers the nurses had given me. He never said a word. One day when he lay his back pack down on the counter, it fell open and I saw a stack of books inside. I thought that was rather curious, but since my perception of the homeless had already changed by Karen’s story, this just added another dimension.

A few weeks went by and one morning the security guard said to me, Lady, don’t feed the homeless.

He isn’t like a wild animal you know, he’s a human, and he’s hungry, I said. By this time my son was getting better and I knew we would be moving out of ICU within a few days, so I kept leaving the granola bars.

On the last day I left the granola bar sitting on top of two books. One was s from Obama’s Dreams from My Father, and the other a more sophisticated book called Angle of Repose. My friend came in, saw the books, looked at me and I nodded. He read the titles and then walked to my table where I was writing and laid Angle of Repose in front of me.

I’ve already read this one. Thank you, he said. Then he turned and left.

That was the last time I ever saw him.

When you go through a life altering experience like my sons and I did, when you think you are going to lose your life, or your child, or your brother, something happens and all the rules change. Normal is redefined. All three of us came away with a strong sense we needed to do something to give back in a way that could be magnificent. We didn’t know what it might be, but I had faith we would be led in the right direction.

Because of our belief in the power of books I wanted to use the written word as a vehicle to offer hope to the weary. The fact that doing this could make even a tiny dent in the decline in book sales our country has experienced over the last few years is an added bonus. It's a win-win proposition.

We have been enormously happy at the response we’ve had in such a short time. It shows a genuine benevolence from people who understand the power of making a difference, one book at a time.

Thank you for your interest. Keep reading, and remember “There but for the grace of God go I.”

Parker's Birthday

I am so grateful. Today is Parker's 26th birthday. There were many weeks back in the spring when I agonized over what I might be doing on this day, and if Parker would still be alive to celebrate.

Yes he is! Thank you God, once again. Now let's eat cake!

I love you boys, have fun together in Austin!

It Was All Fake

I walked a different way this morning with the dogs and was so entranced by the scenery, I was glad I took my camera along. The photo here shows the corner of a pasture that must have been home to some fat ponies once upon a time, because at the top of the hill is a metal horse gate, and in one of the corners is a small old fashioned, two stall barn with Dutch doors. I love Dutch doors. It was a barn almost exactly like that in Connecticut where I had my first "real" kiss. I love that little barn and will walk that way again tomorrow.

I have been taking the hundreds of emails I sent and received over the first three days that Parker was in Critical Care, sorting through them and putting them in proper order for the book. With each one that I read, I remembered more of all the things that happened. Somethings surprise me. Like I remember one nurse in ICU who shall remain nameless because she was so nasty. Plastic nasty. Fake smiles. Rolling her eyes nasty..... ugh. But I didn't remember that she was the nurse on day two, I thought she was more like week two. I guess the fact that I was in such shock kept me from telling her to give up the attitude, because I certainly spoke my mind a lot as the days went on.

Anyway, the thing that surprised me the most was the tone of my own emails. If I were the reader of those emails I would have thought wow! She is in such control! She is so strong! Indeed, I sound focused, and completely in control of my emotions, not falling apart, able to write about things other than the fact that my son was in the other room possibly dying.... I surprised myself. But guess what? It was all fake. I just didn't realize how good a faker I was. I was totally and completely falling apart. There was a burning sensation in my heart that comes back even at this minute, while I am merely remembering it. My insides shook, my legs quivered when I walked, I threw up constantly, and felt as though the skin on my face was the only thing holding back so many tears I was afraid to let loose in case I never returned from crazy. I still have that fear.

Anyway, so that's the truth. I think it is probably those emails and my blog posts were the best thing I had to keep me sane during those very dark, horrific days. And I am glad, in the end, that my true feelings were not exposed as I thought they were. But I also wonder if someone who read them might have thought I was emotionless? I hope not.

Through the Tunnel

I feel better about things since my visit to Austin. I had been gone 6 weeks and it was the right thing for me to do, to go back to the "scene of the crime." It made me see that I had started to push my way through the tunnel. Like there would actually be a "normal" in our lives again.

Yesterday I set a timer for 2 1/2 hours, during which time I wrote about the darkest days of Parker's journey. April 14th, 2009. I only got through 3/4th's of the day, but today I am gearing up to revisit and write about the rest of that day. It was hard, and I was surprised that I felt that same horrible burning pain in my chest that stayed with me all those days when his life was termed "imminently critical."

Before I started I propped up the prayer book for parents that the stranger on the plane gave me way back in April, and lit three candles, one for each of us in our little family. I did this because I ran into Nurse Nancy in the parking lot of the hospital and told her I was struggling, trying to get to the writing of this book. She said, "Well then, light a candle for it." Silly me. So I did. Nurse Nancy practices Native American spiritual traditions and I think she knows what she is doing.

But every time I started to cry, or felt like I was going to throw up while writing yesterday, I stopped for a moment and looked at the candles and the book, closed my eyes and said a little prayer. Somehow I got the energy to push forward again. Thank you God for continuing to be there for me. For us.

Today the sun is shining and on our walk it felt like a true autumn day. The deer teased the dogs, running away with their white tails flying. My hands are raw from holding their leashes. But it was nice. Nature is nice to start a day when I know I'm going back into the dark place, even if just for a few hours.

No more procrastinating, I'm going in now.

Today Was A Hard Day

Today was a hard day, and it is reflected in my writing. But tomorrow I will wake up early, walk the dogs and start again.