Bye to an old friend

There is a heavy sadness today. Last night my wife's cat of 23 years passed away. Oscar has been part of the family almost ten years longer than I have, and he has known the girls since the day we brought them home from the hospital. When I first met him he was a healthy twenty-two pound cat who loved to jump in your lap and wanted nothing more than to be loved by someone and petted.

We have known for quite some time that this was probably Oscar's last year. Last night he yeowed, stumbled and went behind the couch. I glanced behind me just in time to see that he was moving slowly and I saw him wobble. I pulled the couch out just far enough away from the wall so that Aly could squeeze in to lift him out. She was crying and said, "Mama, I think he's sick."

His eyes were cloudy and we gently covered him in a towel because he was cold. We suspect that he may have had a stroke.

We thought of taking him to the vet but we knew they would just put him to sleep. And since he wasn't howling out in pain, we chose to keep him with us.

He looked at each of us as we all gathered around him. Lois held him in her lap as we all sat around and cried like babies. She told us all the Oscar stories that we've heard time and time again and we all laughed and cried.

I eventually had to go to bed because I had to work and the girls and Lois camped out in the family room. The girls set up an airbed by the couch and Lois curled up on the couch with Oscar in her arms.

At 1:30 this morning Lois came upstairs crying and said that Oscar was gone.

It has been a long time since I've felt this sort of grief. Sitting here I have tears rolling down my cheeks. I am thinking of my wife and the pain she must be going through. I am thinking of my youngest daughter who woke up this morning only to learn about her beloved friend and then who fell back to sleep with tears on her face. And later this morning, the other will wake up to the sad news and the crying will continue.

I have not seen our family shed this many tears in a long time. And as my friend Renee said the other day, "Hard times."

Please stop by and offer your condolences to my wife at Miscellany.

Ghost of birthdays past

Today is my 49 birthday. A little over a year ago I had my doubts that I'd make it this far. Now I realize that was only fear. 

My children and my wife showered me with chocolate, books and clothes this morning, and I think we're going to see Avatar.

I've never been big on the birthday thing. Before I got married I kind of always disappeared. I've always been somewhat of a loner. Even after 13 years of marriage it is still hard for me to get used to it. It is amazing how we as children can be psychologically scarred for life. My father, who was once mad at me and in fury took away my gifts right before my birthday or Christmas. I can't remember which. He dragged out a little red tool box out of the closet that they were going to give me and said, "See this, this is mine now." The other gifts came out and went away just the same. I have never quite gotten over that.

I am still not used to it, but as the children get older and their want for celebration gets more enthusiastic each year I cannot help but smile. They are pivotal in coaxing out the little boy in their father. Sometimes I am stunned by their actions when they do something that brings tears of joy to my face. 

I look forward to the many years ahead, and while I don't want to live to be a 100, I want to see them date and go to college and walk them down a rose-strewn sheet of pedals. I want to hold grandchildren and watch them laugh and play. I want to shower them with gifts.

Darkness

Tonight there is a new moon. From what my wife tells me, Haiti at night is pitch black. Imagine how that must be right now. Swallowed in darkness. Now imagine being swallowed in rubble and darkness.
My heart breaks for this country. As if they didn't have enough hardships already.
Lois went to Haiti in 2000. She went with a Salt Lake City  team called Healing Hands for Haiti on assignment to write about their work establishing a rehabilitation clinic.
For nine years she has talked about her experience there. She has talked about it often with a gulping, stifled cry.
She has talked about this beautiful place that has garbage piled knee deep on the sides of the streets because the garbage trucks don't run and there's no place for the people to put it.
Now there are bodies stacked there as well. She has talked about the people she describes as lovely and who hang onto hope, always smiling.
For the last two days as news breaks through in bits and pieces, she cries and half screams, "They need equipment!" The rehab clinic that she helped work on is now in rubble and there is no word on some of the staff. But the doctors and nurses that work in these clinics may not even be capable of helping the wounded. Nobody knows. The bandages and medicines that are extremely needed are now buried beneath the rubble.
My wife's niece over at From the Top of the Stairs sent out an e-mail today to friends and family saying that her friend had just gone to Haiti (just outside Port au Prince) on Sunday for what was supposed to be a 10-day humanitarian mission helping out in an orphanage. She has a broken ankle and cuts, but there is worry of infection. Another thing buried in the rubble is antibiotics.
I was thinking of what Lois said the other night, "It is pitch black and the night is filled with screams. I can't imagine."
Tonight this keeps running through my mind and I am praying for some comfort and hope and help.

Happy Holiday Everyone

" Happy

Holiday!"

Send your own ElfYourself eCards

Ho Ho Huh!?

The Smile

1996 St. Petersburg

He couldn't talk when I saw him. He smiled though. His face lit up as big as day.
Every so often he would reach over and grab my arm and speak to me in a rapid voice. It was as if he was trying to tell me something of the utmost importance. But he was incapable of speech and all I heard was: "Thr mi dush arn efas dechs."
"What?" I kept asking. But all I got was the same thing and I would wipe his eyes because he was crying.
My mom said that he didn't understand and that he was incoherent.
Not that incoherent, I thought. The man recognized me. He knows who I am.
Again with the Kleenex. This time to his nose. He blew and I had to get another one.
It's all real vague still. I look back and kick myself for not staying longer by his side.
I should have spent my nights in the hospital. I should have held his hands during the day.
But I went with my mother to the wharf or a ballgame; whatever the agenda was that day.
You see ... we had not seen each other in 12 years.
I had walked out on my parents when I was 11 years old. Almost 12 years later I returned. For 6 months I stayed with them and lived their lives. And then I walked out on them again. And almost 12 years later here I was again, holding my father’s hand. He wouldn't let go. Every time I got up to leave the room he would try to upright himself and ramble faster than speech is meant to go. "Dnt Goa."
He understands.
"I'm coming right back," I'd tell him. In the hall I'd cover my face and sob. This went on every day that I was there.
Every time I'd enter the room I would say it, "Hello, Dad." My smile somewhat broken. Up close you could probably see right through it. Hairline cracks ready to shatter. Me thinking: Keep smiling dad or I'm going to break.
I do remember his smile. The day I shaved his face for him he kept running his hands across it. Beaming. Happy.
There was laughter there. I smiled just as hard and still tears rolled down my cheek. We must have looked like two nerdy twins.
The night I left his room after saying goodbye was the hardest. He cried and bounced and spoke that rapid language.
"Is he going to be all right?" I asked my mom. 
I think she said, "Yes."
But the real answer was no.
I've never told anyone this. There was never a reason. My father died from brain cancer and other complications.
After spending a whole life apart from each other, we reunited for one week to say goodbye. The one thing I will never forget over that week before I had to return home, was how he would smile.

Today I miss you, Dad.

I'm thinking about it...

Lately I have been feeling kind of removed. And moved. So many things seem to be happening these days that it is hard for me to get a grasp on them. I am almost like a whirlwind of polarity. Happy Sad. Scared Brave. Awake Asleep. You get the picture. 

The one thing that I do know is that I am having trouble writing these days. I find myself writing 10 or 20 posts and when my desktop gets full I delete them. 

"Well quit deleting them; there's your problem!" you're probably saying. 

And you could be right...maybe. But I think it's more than that. I think I'm starting to lose my train of thought. No really.

I've written three post for a Part 2 of a Spoon Full of Sugar and nothing is working. I've written about the Large Hadron Collider and Admiral Richard Byrd's obsession with The Hollow Earth. I've written about The Traitorous Eight and Shockley Semiconductor Laboratory. And I've written 3 posts called Crap, More Crap and Pieces of Crap. It seems like one of these should have worked.

"Quit deleting them!"

I am almost thinking about one of those twenty-things post. Almost.

A Spoon Full of Sugar...

A year ago the girls made a deal with their mom. They would both quit drinking soda pop for a year if they were each paid a $100 dollars. I'm not sure how this even came about. Maybe it was a New Year's resolution gone bad and somehow mom was conned out of money? I'm guessing it went something like this:

Daughter 1.      "My New Year's resolution is to quit drinking pop for a year." 

Lois.                 "You won't do that."
Daughter 1.      "I'll bet you a hundred dollars right now!"
Daughter 2.      "Oh, me too, me too!"

Whatever happened, a deal was made and it looks like the girls will be receiving some money come New Year's Eve.
It has really been nice, though. We have probably saved ourselves a lot of money between buying pop and dentist appointments. And I am pretty sure we've made fewer dental appointments for them in the past year.
The other day while Lois and I were driving into work, Lois told me that Aly asked her if she could get her money early. She said Aly wanted to use it to buy Christmas presents. This made me smile. Aly has always had a good heart and she is always thinking of others. Whenever she does something like this it always melts my heart.
At Christmas time she is always the first to run up to the Salvation Army's Santa Claus to drop change into the bucket. In the summer she will ask if we can give the guy on the corner a buck or two. The other day while walking through the grocery store Aly asked if she could buy a couple cases of food to donate to her food drive at school.
I have always admired this trait of hers and I am moved by it each time she does it.
As we drove into work on that one morning Lois went on to say: "Do you know what your other daughter is going to buy?"
"What?" I asked.
"I don't know, probably Hot Cheetos and clothes. But I'm pretty sure she'll spend it on herself." Lois said.
And we both laughed because Lois is right. And I love her just as much but for different reasons.

Weekend Photos and Touch-ups

There is no post here today, just some pictures. I promise I'll write something sometime soon. Even if it's one of those twenty things about something. I might be able to come up with 10.

I hope everyone had a nice Thanksgiving.

The Fishing Trip