It was a run that was not coordinated with the "Kristin Kicks Cancer" group I have joined.
It was not "pretty".
It could have been better, but it could have been a whole lot worse.
I made use of my fancy ipod Nano----although I have never been into listening to music while running......and do not like things in my ears. However, I downloaded a couple pod casts and felt very tech savy. I listened to "This American Life" for the entire run and found that great to keep my mind off the fact that I was running. The kids ran the last mile with me and put forth a few drops of sweat to help me out. Thanks kids.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Friday, May 22, 2009
Irene, Lee, and things that are apparently on my mind today
Part One - Irene
My "Grandma Irene" passed away last summer on July 10th. When she went in to the Hospital and we decided to call in Hospice. I was working in North Carolina as the nurse for Hazel's summer camp. It was a tough week trying to find a way to get back to her and to be with my Mom and sister as they helped care for her in her final days.
You see, I loved Irene more than anyone else I have ever loved.
I was finally able to arrange a way to get back to Boise from the mountains of North Carolina. The last couple of days of camp would be covered by other staff. I was frantic that day, driving through the mountains to get to Atlanta to an amazingly expensive direct flight.
I had very limited cell reception in the mountains and I had (of course) run over my cell phone in recent days. This made calling people a bit of a mystery...scroll down, dial, and wonder who might answer. I tried to picture my alphabetical list and count the number of names down. I was trying to call my sister because I knew she was at Irene's and I felt that my chances of making it home on time to bid her farewell were fading. As I rounded a bend I had 2 of 5 bars on the phone...then I would round another bend and have nothing. I took a chance on one bend and counted down something like 12 names and was amazed when Kelli answered the phone.
"How is she, I said." I could hear the whispers of family in her room. Kelli said she was comfortable and gave me the run down from the night. There was this feeling during the week that Irene was holding out. Even if it was an illusion and part of her dying process I felt an emotional pull to the idea that she, too, wanted a final farewell with me. I told Kelli that although I was trying very hard to make it to her by the evening I needed her to know that it was okay for her to go if she was ready. I was telling Kelli this when Kelli interrupted and said, "Nicci, she is getting very quiet, I think she is going." I asked her to put the phone to her for me. "Grandma, Nicci here, I love you," I said through the cell which had miraculously maintained coverage for the 3 or 4 minutes. Then Kelli choked back and got back on the phone and told me she was gone. Just like that. I pulled over to the side of the dewy mountain road, tears blurring my vision, my life and everything I understood about it fading right before my eyes.
Irene's life was profound in that I had some tie to it that made me understand existence and with her now fading into her own eternity I felt my self concept slip away. I could feel myself trying to hold on and follow her so that I did not end up and empty shell of a being. Then the cell reception went away and never returned until I arrived at the airport in Atlanta.
I pulled myself together and felt relief for Irene. Soggy sadness washed over me. It was very lonely, the death of Irene. It was a profoundly isolating experience. Just me and my God and the feeling that I knew life would never be the same again. In many ways I felt a bit of relief that Irene was unaware of my failing marriage and left with sweet memories of better days. My kids and I had visited her over the years and she felt their love. Yes, life would be good and wonderful but it was changing. It transformed in the space of 2 minutes. I pictured her peaceful escape from her body and her loss of memory and her worries about money and burdens.
I made it back to Boise. I was able to be with my family. I was able to say good-bye to her cold shell that was home for so many years. That was a sweet, smiling time for me as I remembered being curled in her arms with her humming, the jostling of her large key ring, the way she twirled my hair and laughed at misunderstandings.
As we prepared for the the details of cremation and burial we had the responsibility to do earthly things like eat, figure out what to wear to the funeral and to clean out her room at the little house that cared for her.
When I walked into her room I felt a massive (I mean MASSIVE) wave of Irene flood me. There was her smell and her belongings. I remembered my last visit with her and how confused she was and how I just crawled up into her twin bed with her and became the back of the spoon. I began putting her belongings in to boxes but when I opened her closet her shoes greeted me. The black, lace up shoes that she had worn recently. The little white socks had been pushed into each shoe as she took them off. Of course she had the absent minded intent of getting one more day of wear out of the socks. She would have said because, "I don't go much anymore." The shoes rocked me and have become the center of the pain and loss I felt for Irene. When I think of her (and I do often) I think of those shoes and how I struggled to let them go. My family was sweet and understanding but had to convince me that keeping her shoes and socks in memoriam was not practical.
___________________
Part 2 - Lee
When Lee left from this two week vacation it became rather quiet around here. Of course Liam has had the usual adjustment he has whenever Lee leaves. During this time he cannot express his feeling of sadness or loss and becomes irritable, inappropriate and angry.
I have become very familiar with this response over the past 6 years of service. I see it a few times each year when Lee leaves. However, it still rocks my world and frustrates me. I am such a vocal person and so inherently outward with my feelings - the boy makes me tilt my head and pinch my eyes. After a few days his outlook had and when he left the house in costume for "the vocabulary day parade" I felt like we were on the verge of normalcy.
Lee is missing us with grand emotion. I feel his upset and desperation in each contact. I settled in and read a few thousand pages in a book series not noticing that I was probably escaping this little loss. However, it hits me, like Irene's loss hit me when I get to the bottom of the laundry pile and smell Lee in shorts and shirt he wore prior to leaving. It is the reminder of a physical presence that is no longer here. And although Lee will return, in October, it forces me to postulate the way in which my own concept of self in tied to my physical surroundings. It is tied to the people and things I can touch and interact with; because in the end these are the only things that are real.
______________
Part 3 - Me, myself and I
How self indulgent writing can me. "Enough about me, let me talk about ME -- a little more."
These are the things that have come up in my head today as I try to figure out the hint of deployment/Army irritation that still lingers. In the end it is just me and my shell and I understand that about life. But the human experience and the way that we interact and choose spouses and friends and how to relate and how to BE is profound and quite confusing to me.
Elizabeth Edwards was talking about forgiving her husband and she says that she has, but that her concept of the "beautiful, perfect, marriage" she was a part of has been changed and taken from her. She is mourning the loss of that concept and the fact that she will never have that again. It will be a different reality, but it will be okay.
My "Grandma Irene" passed away last summer on July 10th. When she went in to the Hospital and we decided to call in Hospice. I was working in North Carolina as the nurse for Hazel's summer camp. It was a tough week trying to find a way to get back to her and to be with my Mom and sister as they helped care for her in her final days.
You see, I loved Irene more than anyone else I have ever loved.
I was finally able to arrange a way to get back to Boise from the mountains of North Carolina. The last couple of days of camp would be covered by other staff. I was frantic that day, driving through the mountains to get to Atlanta to an amazingly expensive direct flight.
I had very limited cell reception in the mountains and I had (of course) run over my cell phone in recent days. This made calling people a bit of a mystery...scroll down, dial, and wonder who might answer. I tried to picture my alphabetical list and count the number of names down. I was trying to call my sister because I knew she was at Irene's and I felt that my chances of making it home on time to bid her farewell were fading. As I rounded a bend I had 2 of 5 bars on the phone...then I would round another bend and have nothing. I took a chance on one bend and counted down something like 12 names and was amazed when Kelli answered the phone.
"How is she, I said." I could hear the whispers of family in her room. Kelli said she was comfortable and gave me the run down from the night. There was this feeling during the week that Irene was holding out. Even if it was an illusion and part of her dying process I felt an emotional pull to the idea that she, too, wanted a final farewell with me. I told Kelli that although I was trying very hard to make it to her by the evening I needed her to know that it was okay for her to go if she was ready. I was telling Kelli this when Kelli interrupted and said, "Nicci, she is getting very quiet, I think she is going." I asked her to put the phone to her for me. "Grandma, Nicci here, I love you," I said through the cell which had miraculously maintained coverage for the 3 or 4 minutes. Then Kelli choked back and got back on the phone and told me she was gone. Just like that. I pulled over to the side of the dewy mountain road, tears blurring my vision, my life and everything I understood about it fading right before my eyes.
Irene's life was profound in that I had some tie to it that made me understand existence and with her now fading into her own eternity I felt my self concept slip away. I could feel myself trying to hold on and follow her so that I did not end up and empty shell of a being. Then the cell reception went away and never returned until I arrived at the airport in Atlanta.
I pulled myself together and felt relief for Irene. Soggy sadness washed over me. It was very lonely, the death of Irene. It was a profoundly isolating experience. Just me and my God and the feeling that I knew life would never be the same again. In many ways I felt a bit of relief that Irene was unaware of my failing marriage and left with sweet memories of better days. My kids and I had visited her over the years and she felt their love. Yes, life would be good and wonderful but it was changing. It transformed in the space of 2 minutes. I pictured her peaceful escape from her body and her loss of memory and her worries about money and burdens.
I made it back to Boise. I was able to be with my family. I was able to say good-bye to her cold shell that was home for so many years. That was a sweet, smiling time for me as I remembered being curled in her arms with her humming, the jostling of her large key ring, the way she twirled my hair and laughed at misunderstandings.
As we prepared for the the details of cremation and burial we had the responsibility to do earthly things like eat, figure out what to wear to the funeral and to clean out her room at the little house that cared for her.
When I walked into her room I felt a massive (I mean MASSIVE) wave of Irene flood me. There was her smell and her belongings. I remembered my last visit with her and how confused she was and how I just crawled up into her twin bed with her and became the back of the spoon. I began putting her belongings in to boxes but when I opened her closet her shoes greeted me. The black, lace up shoes that she had worn recently. The little white socks had been pushed into each shoe as she took them off. Of course she had the absent minded intent of getting one more day of wear out of the socks. She would have said because, "I don't go much anymore." The shoes rocked me and have become the center of the pain and loss I felt for Irene. When I think of her (and I do often) I think of those shoes and how I struggled to let them go. My family was sweet and understanding but had to convince me that keeping her shoes and socks in memoriam was not practical.
___________________
Part 2 - Lee
When Lee left from this two week vacation it became rather quiet around here. Of course Liam has had the usual adjustment he has whenever Lee leaves. During this time he cannot express his feeling of sadness or loss and becomes irritable, inappropriate and angry.
I have become very familiar with this response over the past 6 years of service. I see it a few times each year when Lee leaves. However, it still rocks my world and frustrates me. I am such a vocal person and so inherently outward with my feelings - the boy makes me tilt my head and pinch my eyes. After a few days his outlook had and when he left the house in costume for "the vocabulary day parade" I felt like we were on the verge of normalcy.
Lee is missing us with grand emotion. I feel his upset and desperation in each contact. I settled in and read a few thousand pages in a book series not noticing that I was probably escaping this little loss. However, it hits me, like Irene's loss hit me when I get to the bottom of the laundry pile and smell Lee in shorts and shirt he wore prior to leaving. It is the reminder of a physical presence that is no longer here. And although Lee will return, in October, it forces me to postulate the way in which my own concept of self in tied to my physical surroundings. It is tied to the people and things I can touch and interact with; because in the end these are the only things that are real.
______________
Part 3 - Me, myself and I
How self indulgent writing can me. "Enough about me, let me talk about ME -- a little more."
These are the things that have come up in my head today as I try to figure out the hint of deployment/Army irritation that still lingers. In the end it is just me and my shell and I understand that about life. But the human experience and the way that we interact and choose spouses and friends and how to relate and how to BE is profound and quite confusing to me.
Elizabeth Edwards was talking about forgiving her husband and she says that she has, but that her concept of the "beautiful, perfect, marriage" she was a part of has been changed and taken from her. She is mourning the loss of that concept and the fact that she will never have that again. It will be a different reality, but it will be okay.
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