hafacenturyncounting

Motivated by a lack of material.

Archive for the month “November, 2016”

The Only Thing Slowing Down is YOU

On the road to get healthy and back into my size 10 I sped past a couple who I see daily. She wears a visor and he holds her hand tightly. Most of us are out here at this time of day to accomplish the same type of goal. No one has the time to take a leisurely stroll, and why is that. Less than 100 shopping days before Christmas, 2016 is rapidly moving towards its end. One minute there aren’t enough hours in the day, the next we are wishing for the weekend to hurry and arrive.  We cannot have it both ways you know, in spite of what we may think we want.

I realize I am NOT the best “blogger” (by virtue of the sheer definition of “blogger”) around. I actually have turned this into a part time personal journal of sorts but I feel like I am a decent writer and I have some worthy thoughts to convey to my contemporaries and anyone who may want to take a listen. Therefore, I say I write around writing. This piece was originally started in September and I am just getting back to it. My mother passed away which was and is devastating, there has been a presidential election, and the holidays ARE UPON US! When I say The only thing slowing down is you, it is from a personal place. Of the three events I mentioned of the two that have taken place, I was NOT prepared for either. Of the one remaining I still reside in that place of being ill-prepared.

Life keeps happening and I keep being surprised by it. Why, is it because it happens so quickly? No, life is happening at it’s original pace. I, on the other hand, am beginning to see and realize the true problem in this equation is ME. Maybe you can see it in yourself as well.. do I have a solution? No, I am like the commercial for “LifeLock Credit Protection ; I monitor things make you aware but when it comes to fixing things, I am not the one. I think and hope through drawing attention to and possibly the creation of conversations about, one day WE collectively will find solutions. For now I just open a window and let the light shine through.

Now next time something sneaks up on you, next time you forget something was happening, chock it up to speed and time..your speed is to slow and time is waiting for no one. Get on board or get left behind.

 

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Mom and Dad’s Room

We moved into our home in Inglewood 1974 (exact date escapes me). I can remember how happy I was to have a room, I did not have to share with my grandmother. While we were appreciative of having a place to stay, even family grows tired of sharing their space.

My parents allowed us the simple pleasure of selecting the color we would paint our respective rooms. I cannot say I agreed with the color choices my parents(likely dad) made for rooms in the house, but I certainly thought my typical seventies era chromatic preference was fabulous (lime green).

Mom and Dad never made their room off limits to us, but we knew if the the door was in any way, manner, or form NOT completely open(door knob touching the wall/door stop) we needed to knock or excuse ourselves before taking a step inside that domain. A room where many private talks occurred, loads of laughter, plenty of tears and maybe  a couple things we will not discuss because I would NOT be writing if they had known.

First Dad and now Mom have passed on, the irreverent task of finishing up her” business” is left to my siblings and I on multiple levels of responsibility. My first trip back and things are so unfamiliar. Mom made sure every detail that could be handled prior to her death  was taken care of, all we had to do was be able to read and follow instructions. Yet small details still needed to be dealt with; what color flowers we were going to have at her service, what to do with her personal items NOT accounted for in her living trust, and oh yes, how the HELL we were supposed to adjust to our lives as “adult orphans”.

Now returning to the home of my early “tweens” held memories but no  visible signs of a life I was pretty convinced I was familiar with. Mom’s disease had taken her from us at least a couple years before she did succumb to her physical death, but signs of her old self lingered about. We knew she was here but we had no signs; no sights, sounds, or fragrance remained. Mom left us memories, but no spirits or ghosts.

The very room I now sleep in, the room that belonged to them, now feels like a mediocre room at a bed and breakfast. You must remember the personality and essence is now gone. The memories that I have to search for and uncover bring pain, as they come to the final chapter. A room I found comfort and answers in, now houses emptiness and a sad reminder of loss. Mom and Dad’s room is no more; the antiseptic pale blueish walls cover the years of vibrancy and life. Mom and Dad’s room is no more.

Stiffled

Here I am unable to put down a single thought. I am not without words though. They simply hurt to put down on paper or into text. You can be sitting still or in the midst of a task, when the burning sensation creeps into your heart an engulfs you. Don’t fool yourself into thinking you are better or you are beyond the child-like wails, believe me they are still within you. Mom passed away at 5:00 A.M. on Sunday October 30th 2016 in Harbor City, California..she was 82 years old.

It all happened so fast, I decided to go with the pace. I figured we would all be better if we could physically put this painful time behind us. Well we didn’t put it behind us, we put the pain out of sight. We did not think, we did not realize or reason through the fact that there would be reminders all around us. Even things we were certain would be okay are a source of anguish.

One day it will all be better, one day there will be smiles, but for now each sunrise or sunset serves as a reminder of one we lost who was so dear to us. She nurtured us, she taught us, she gave us love and care like no other. We took for granted she would always be with us. NOT that we believed or thought she’d live forever.The thought of such a loss was to overwhelming for us to deal with, so we pushed those emotions aside.  Even as we watched a strong independent pillar slowly become frail and confused, we comforted ourselves with denial.

Since the loss is so devastating, instinct tells us to run, hide, look for that protection and comfort; then the ironic reality sets in. She is where we would look for that comfort, that protection, that reassurance that everything will be alright, but she is gone..what is a child to do?

 

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