Backwater

Today was a good day. It was relatively low key. I didn’t know what to expect of today – the day after my dad’s funeral. But it was a good day. I feel like I’ve felt all the intense emotions I needed to feel just now. More may come, I realize. But today I got to rest. I’m writing here too, instead of nursing, rearranging, updating and generally brooding over my dad’s memorial blog site. This spot feels lower key too. Kind of out of the way; a bit like backwater. Just little ol’ me. It feels good.

Granola Bars

I don't know what the deal is with granola bars. They always seem like such a good idea. I always throw them in my pocket or bag in case I get hungry or forget my breakfast. But I never, ever, ever eat them. I think I like them, but when the moment of decision comes, I always pick something else.

What's up with that?

A blog of sad

I always thought “blog” was a funny word. I know it’s an abbreviation of “web log” but it reminds me more of “blob” or “glob” – “blog” so I have a “blog of sad”. The source of my sadness is not uncommon to human experience. In fact not many of us escape it in some form or other. Someone I love is dying. It’s my dad.

I’m actually sitting with him now. He’s sleeping and the nurses have told me it’s okay to use my laptop it if I don’t plug it in, or use the send receive functions. I’m wearing those weird non-latex latex hospital gloves and a mask. My dad has a super-bug and so he’s under quarantine officially. It’s weird to type with gloves on. He’s sleeping. He sleeps a lot.

The doctors have told him they can’t do anything more for him. He has been breathing with the help of a ventilator for the past month, here in the ICU. They can’t get him off it, and he can’t stay on it so, with his permission, and when he is ready, they will give him morphine to make him comfortable and remove the ventilator. The doctors say his C02 levels will rise and he’ll fall asleep – then be gone.

When they explained this to my dad, he said it all sounded pretty good, except the very last part. His attempt at humour.

So between my sister and I we spend 12 hours a day at the hospital being with my dad while old friends and family cycle through to say goodbye and wait for him to decide he’s ready. How do decide you’re “ready”? I don’t know.

I’m going to miss my dad.

That’s why I’m sad.

Plan B

The characters in Douglas Coupland’s book Girlfriend in a Coma have completely messed up their lives. They argue they’ve lived relatively normal lives, but when challenged, can’t deny they are dead inside. They even mess up dramatic opportunities to change, learn and grow. They don’t. So finally they are offered Plan B. A chance to be different But there’s a cost. Not only must one character sacrifice herself, but the rest must pay a price as well. A job they must do.

They have a ghost friend who helps them out. He tells them some stuff when they finally start to figure it all out. Here’s some of what he says to them. I think it’s amazing!

“You’re to be different now. Your behaviour will be changing. Your thinking is to change and people will watch these changes in you and they’ll come to experience the world in your new manner.”

“Didn’t you often feel as if the only way you could fully truly change yourself in the powerful way you yearned for was to die and then start again from scratch? Didn’t you feel as if all of the old symbols and ideas fed to you since birth had become worn out like old shoes? Didn’t you ache for change but you didn’t know how to achieve it? And even if you knew how to do it would you have the guts to go forth? Didn’t you want your cards shuffled in a different way?”

“For all of you. And in your new lives you’ll have to live entirely for that one sensation—that of imminent truth. And you’re going to have to holler for it, steal for it, beg for it—and you're never to stop asking questions about it twenty-four hours a day, for the rest of your life.”

“In your old lives you had nothing to live for. Now you do. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain. Go clear the land for a new culture—bring axes, scythes, and guns. I know you have the necessary skills—explosives, medicine, engineering, media knowledge, and the ability to camouflage yourselves. If you’re not spending every waking moment of your life radically rethinking the nature of the world—if you’re not plotting every moment boiling the carcass of the old order—then you’re wasting your day.”

Candy Cleaning

After dinner tonight we let the girls each pick a candy from their Halloween bags. At the rate they are going, they should be good for candy until 2023. Kaylee dumped out her bag on the living room rug to pick just the right one. After the long ritual of choosing, Kaylee began the process of putting her candy back in her bag. Some of the candy had come loose from bags and wrappers. Each of these loose candies she licked before returning to the bag. I noticed this process taking place.

"Kaylee, why are licking your candies before you put them away?" I asked.

"'Cause I want to make sure they are clean for next time," she explained.

Okay.

So, just by way of warning, if Kaylee offers you a candy from her Halloween bag in the next few weeks, take one that's in a wrapper.

God Gum

This morning I was playing with the girls. Emily said “You are God’s wife, and I’m a baby angel.” Kaylee said, “I’m God, and I’m chewing God gum.” (Because she had a gum ball). Emily, who also had a gum ball said, ”I’m chewing baby angel gum.”

I have strange children!

Frightening Grace

I suddenly found myself on the other side of the equation. You know how it goes. There’s the “people in need” and then there’s me. My job is to help the “people in need” (whatever that means). That’s fine. That’s how I like it. Where I feel secure, in control, independent, a-okay. Maybe, if I’m honest, a bit superior.

Then something slips, and you feel less in control, less capable, a bit worn down and no end in sight.

But then it gets worse. People start helping you.

The dawning horror: I’ve become a “people in need”, somehow at the mercy of others. If I look around I see it’s true. And I sense the grace my community is extending me. Undeserved, free gifts all around. What could be better? I hate it. It feels so…needy, so weak. Maybe just a little too close to home. But this uncomfortable feeling has a bit of a familiar signature to it. That God-poking-at-something feeling. How prideful am I?

Why is grace, fully undeserved, wholly unearned, completely unrelenting, so terrifying?