We will all be forgotten

I have a real fear of Dad being forgotten.  That is something I just can't bear.  Yet, when I really think about it, I know we will all be forgotten one day.   The Bible tells us not to love this world because this world is not our home; we are merely passing through.  I know my dad sojourned for almost 94 years, but he is home now, more alive than he ever was here on earth.  That does not mitigate my pain, though.  In time, people will forget him.  In time, those who knew him will pass away, too. There will be no one left to remember him.  But,  he will always be part of every day I tread here on this earth.  I will never forget him. 

Grief and Depression Come in Waves

In the three weeks since Dad died, I have been schooled in grief and the depression that is its Siamese twin.  Grief comes in waves.  I can think I am okay, and in the next moment, I have burst into tears and want to retreat to my bed.  Like this morning....I was washing dishes, looking at the cars backed up outside my window.  Suddenly, I burst into tears with the overpowering feeling of missing Dad.  He was a huge part of my life, all my life.  Certainly, in the last three years since I brought him to my home on June 6, 2019, he was my whole life.  So, here I sit chronicling a vignette about the waves of grief.  It is a way of remembering Dad, a way of honoring him.   #grief   #mourning  #dad

Dad's Obituary

https://www.briceherndonfuneralhome.com/obituary/HollandR-Williams

 Some people said I should have kept a log of caring for my dad all these years.  It was too painful to relive those days; dementia sucks.  Today, three years, four months, and 23 days after coming to live with me, Dad drew his last breath at 8:25 am, right in front of me.  He had been under hospice care in my home since July 28.  Now, he is in the presence of God and Jesus and reunited with family and friends.  Me?  I don't know what I will do with my life now.  He WAS my life for those 3 years, 4 months, and 23 days. 

There has got to be more

Wow!  I haven't posted on this little blog in over a year.  I really haven't felt I had anything to say to anyone in my little cubicle of the internet.  Then, God brought this blog to mind this past week.  I don't know how often or what I'll post, but when the mood hits me, I'll be back.

As the first post in over a year, I was wondering if anyone out there feels like I do:  There has to be more to this life.  My life has changed drastically since I retired in 2017.  Six months ago I became the full-time caregiver to my soon-to-be 91 year-old dad (November 9).  I would not trade that for anything, but before he came to live with me, I was already feeling like there had to be more.  I felt like I was wasting my life and was no good to anyone.

Now, I know my job at present is to take care of Dad, but I still wonder, "Why am I here?"  I am not one of those retired people who wants to travel every few months or play golf (YUCK!), but I want to do something meaningful with whatever time I have left.  My problem now is discovering what is meaningful and if there is a place for me.

Letting Go vs. Hanging On

Sometimes it is comfortable to hang on to that which we know.

Today, on my first day of freedom in 29 years (not returning to school), God gifted me with a phone call from North Carolina--a student from 29 years ago.  We chatted on his way to work, but he left me with these pearls:

          "It's funny how we hold on to the very things we've been freed from."

God sent through ---'s mouth to my ears.

Thanks, God, for remembering me today.

Seamless Transition

Some people may get sick of hearing this, and if so, they can move on to the next blog.  But, I am amazed at how seamless my transition to retirement has been.  First, there is the miracle of it at all.  There are a handful of people who know why it is a miracle, and it will stay that way.  They know that, given the facts, it is only through Him that it happened.

So, I should not be surprised at how easy the transition has been.  My NC friend always says, "He's got it," or "He's already worked it out."  The thing that sorta-kinda surprised me is that I don't miss school.at.all. At.all.

I was always one who was chained to the work email, and I had one boss for a very long time who expected it.  Our fabulous tech person told me my email account would be closed in July; well, I was locked out the last week of June.  At first, I thought I made a mistake; I kept trying for about three days.  Then, reality sunk in:  Ginger, you're out.  

And, for this recovering work email addict, I didn't need rehab.  

I still can't believe I am free at 54 years-old.  I can do whatever-I-want-whenever-I-want-without-asking-permission-or-forgiveness.  I have so many projects around the house when this summer is over and cool weather comes.  I have to power wash the house and finally get fifteen years plus of yard debris from areas of the yard that have yet to be revealed.  Then, there are painting projects.  Oh, and my crocheting ministry that I have joined.  All of these along with my other ventures will keep me busy---*my* kind of busy.

I can not begin to express what freedom feels like.

Thankful

Sometimes, I think we just need to stop--really stop--and count our blessings.  I tend to be a worrier, though I am SO much better than I was twenty years ago.  God has done so much in my life that I could fill many blog posts. In fact,  I have written many about what he has done, but today I was struck again by his faithfulness to the point I was almost in tears.  And, I do need to journal about it tonight.  I won't go into specific details here, but let's just say yesterday and last night were not good for me. He knew I needed encouragement, and he sent two people via Facebook Messenger to do just that; one lives an hour away, but the other is in Sweden or Finland right now with his son's soccer.  Well, that's pretty close to Russia, so he couldn't be much further; yet, God uses the power of the internet.  How awesome is that that God is tech-saavy?  Anyway, I *KNEW* beyond a shadow of any doubt that those messengers were godly-sent.  So, today, I am taking time out to count my blessings.  These are simply as they come to me; they are not ranked in any order at all:

1.  my health and my family's health
2.  my son's job and volunteerism
3.  my retirement (that itself is a miracle)
4.  opportunities He has opened
5.  provisions He has made
6.  a really, really good friend in the form of a former student who is God's mouthpiece to me (quite often)
7.  ability to "be there" for my parents when needed
8.  a dependable friend who is more like a sister from "another muther" who has been with me through all my cancer surgeries and tests
9.  pets' health (even my poor Miles in kidney failure is still pretty active for 20)
10.  plenty of food and a roof over my head
11.  the ability to do for P
12.  the calling for another service, but it seems to have been spurned.  This needs prayer.

What are you thankful for?

Battling my demon

Life is a journey filled with lessons and trials; we never "arrive" at our destination.  We are meant to grow, stumble, grow some more, stumble some more...... It doesn't matter what our goals are.  For me, the biggest challenge I have had throughout the course of my life is my weight.  That is my #1 demon.  

Recently, a high school/college friend commented on Facebook I was going to be nothing but bones.  What she can't see is my body fat.  Truly, weight and fitness are one's personal issues.   Bottom line:  I"m not happy with what I see in the mirror.   My entire life I have been made to think I was not good enough, not thin enough to fit someone else's idea of what I should look like--family, school mates, ex-, society.  My mind has battled all those put-downs.  Don't tell me words don't hurt; they do.  Even though my rational mind tells me, "It's none of their damn, fricking business," it has impacted everything about my life.  

When I look back at school pictures, there was a dramatic change between first and second grade.  I don't know what caused it, but it's there.  Fast forward to 6th grade when my parents put me in private school.  A vivid memory I have of that time is being bullied--yes, bullying has been around since the beginning of time, I'm sure.  Some of the boys gave me the nickname "Butterball," as in Butterball turkey, thought to be the biggest.  When I would recount this story to my students decades later, they listened with rapt attention; their teacher could relate to their being bullied.

In my senior year of high school,  I remember walking all around Forest Hills.  I had a regiment where I would eat dinner between 4 and 4:30 and walk.  I lost quite a bit of weight by doing so.  Fast forward to having my son.  I knew I needed to get the weight off, so my husband agreed to help me do Weight Watchers.  I excitedly brought a lot of diet food home, and then he announced, "I'm not eating diet food!"  I had to cook two meals, one for him and one for me, so fried food it was:  fried chicken, fried round steak and gravy.  It was horrible.  There was no support at all from his end; in fact, there was the opposite.

The stress of teaching and some work situations in particular would set me off.  I'm an emotional eater and stress eater.  I've never had an eating disorder, but I would often run for the snack machine at work,  I can remember occasions where I would get 3 or 4 bags of chips and eat them within minutes.  It got to the point where I could not carry cash to work.  It was not better at home with my son.  I bought him the snack size box of chips for his lunches or snacks, and you guessed it; I ate more of them than he did.  There were times when he went to them and asked what happened to them.  I know my triggers and just can't have unhealthy food in the house.  A few months ago I craved chips, so on my way home I stopped at the Dollar Tree.  Their bags are relatively small, so how much damage could I do?  Well, that bag ended up being my dinner.  While it didn't put weight on me, the next day or two I felt awful--sluggish and "yucky."

Fast forward to my current situation.  I have lived alone for two years now, and there is no excuse for me NOT to get healthy.  The worst food I have in the house is almond butter. (I can't keep peanut butter because I would eat spoonfuls right out of the jar.)  I literally have to leave the house and go seek any "bad" food.  Now, that does not mean I won't indulge when I want.  It just means I am more deliberate about my choices.  I will grab a burger and fries about once a month with a friend.  I will have off days.  That's ok because this is a journey; my goal is to eat healthy about 80-90% of the time.  Oh, and abs and biceps---I know I have them somewhere, and I'm on a journey to find them.

 Now that I am retiring this summer, I have made it a conscious decision to focus on ME.  I no longer have the stress of the job.  My part-time tutoring/mentoring work is keeping me as busy as I want, and my pet nanny job is gearing up as the humans prepare to make their annual trek to Cozumel.  That is looking busier into the fall as the mom has a work trip to Dubai planned, her normal travel for business,  and perhaps other countries with the hubby.   I am busy between those part-time jobs and visiting/doing for my parents.  I am getting my mind in a healthy place, and I am keeping it busy.  Fitness truly does begin in the mind.  I have told someone that her mind truly has to be in the right place.  Mine has been off and on for years; right now, it's focused.  I workout almost every single day, sometimes twice a day (when I feel extra-motivated).  My food is on point.  I am keeping stress to the minimum, and I am dealing with this demon head-on.

(Ha!  If you made it this far, I know it's due to the title.)

Dad's Kindness

My dad is one of a kind...and a true saint on earth.    When I am with him, he makes me want to be a better person.  Today we started round 2 of his Keytruda immunotherapy treatments.  The longest part is waiting to see the oncologist or nursing assistant and waiting on the drug to be prepared; the infusion itself is 30 minutes.  Every step of the way, when he leaves the nurses, he thanks them.  We normally see Amy to do his vitals and put the needle in.  Dad cuts jokes with her every time....and I noticed today he thanked her for what she does for him.  Then, we now have to go to the hospital plaza where they have moved the cancer infusion/chemo because Keyserling is going to be undergoing renovations to expand it.  The rest of his treatments will involve giving his blood/getting vitals/seeing the doctor at Keyserling and then driving to the hospital complex.

Today, as he left the hospital, he thanked the nurse who had hooked up the bag and later removed the needle.  She didn't do that much, but that's how Dad is; he appreciates everything.

Last night on the phone I told him how for the first time in my life--and the first time in the 15 years I have lived here--my neighbor offered to cut my weeds at the street when he was mowing his yard yesterday.  Let me say that due to the oak trees, weeds at the street are about all that are growing, so that's all that needed mowing.  I was blown away.  Dad's response? 

          "That's what the world needs--more people being nice to each other."

That is so Dad.  He has never known a stranger.  When he retired in December of '93, he toyed with the idea of being a Walmart greeter, but Mother didn't want him to.  In fact, when they used to go to Walmart when he was driving, she admitted to being jealous when he would talk to people.  "Who was that???"  she demanded to know.  Sometimes he told her the name; other times he didn't know the name.  He.would.strike.a.conversation.with.anyone.  He has never cared the person's color, religion, or anything else we use to JUDGE people.

It would not surprise me to get to heaven one day and find that Dad is a greeter.