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We had such a whirlwind holiday this year - 6 days to see two families - with three of those days primarily on the road. We spent Christmas eve and Christmas day proper with the Bornschlegel clan at Casa Krist, and had a wonderful time. On the Christmas eve, we spent our day at the Getty museum, and in the evening, conducted a thorough wine-tasting of many under $15 bottles of red wine. I startled myself by guessing the grapes correctly outloud for 3/5 bottles, and correctly in my head on a fourth. Wacky - i had no idea i was able to call my varietals that well. I wonder if it would be harder with higher-calibre wine....
On Christmas day, we spent much of the day making John's family recipe for ravioli. It's different from my family's (the Del Papas) recipe; it's a chicken, pork and chard ravioli. Dinner was fantastic, and we finished off the evening with a reading of my Christmas story from Russell, and a rousing game of Trivial Pursuit (that weird current edition with recent history and contemporized categories) which my team won on an embarrassing mind-meld between Jean and my brainmeats.
You know the rest of the game - clicky to see photos of Clan Bornschlegel!
Here's a toast to two of my favorite people, on their thirtieth wedding anniversary. They just happen to be my parents.
Mom, Dad - you're the coolest. Congratulations on making it through the ups and downs of 30 years together - moving to Germany, moving back, raising two kids (who turned out ok, if i do say so myself!), moving to Las Vegas, restarting mom's career, getting back in shape, and generally being happy together.
I love you both.
I think i am a textbook example of a daddy's girl.
It's funny, this daddy's girl thing - i get woogly when i see men with babies, in orders of magnitude more intense than when i see women with babies. Even a good picture of a man with a child, or hearing a dad interact with his daughter behind me in a restaurant makes me glow. Dads just make me happy in some very weird, fundamental way. And mine makes me especially happy.
Don't get me wrong - this doesn't have anything to do with my mom - i love her, she's cool, she's one of the best teachers i've ever met. I have a good relationship with her that i value, too. It's not a competition, it's not about loving one or the other more ... it's simply about my relationship with my dad.
My dad's one of my best friends. I'm lucky; even though he doesn't live quite so nearby since i left for college and then moved to the city, i still get to see him about once a month. He still works for LLNL in Livermore, so when he comes out for a meeting or a day in that office, he stays with us here. We generally get to have dinner, or at least a beer and a chat. He came over tonight; we met up at Ti Couz, where Russell and i were finishing dinner, and talked over a dessert crepe and beer for him & a sidecar for me. I value his opinion highly, even though we don't always agree. It drives Russell crazy when we start violently agreeing - we get noisier and louder and more passionate even than when we're violently disagreeing on things. We came home and stayed up late talking more, and i finally went to be happy - my two favorite guys on the planet in my house.
are you weary as water, in a faucet left dripping, with an incessant sadness, like a sad record skipping...
--ani difranco
Yes. I think i qualify as weary this week.
But what i really want to talk about? My wonderful husband, who deserves some extra accolades. He's been a perfect doll. Last night, on day 2 of the LongDays, i came home to homemade herb gnocchi with pesto, ready to throw in the pot, and on the table 5 minutes later. With a perfect caesar salad. A clean table, candles lit, high room score.
He's taken care of the cat, readied the second guest room ready for my dad to stay over midweek, and helped to entertain my cousin while i was working long days. He's been ready with a hug and a smile each time i've walked in the door. He wakes up enough at oh-dark-thirty to open his eyes, and kiss me goodbye in the mornings. And mostly? He's the most supportive, loving creature. Russell, thank you for going out of your way to make my week better this week. I needed it.
(Jeepers - how does a girl get so lucky?)
What i remember...
So many trips to Yosemite. Lovely evenings in the cabin. Walks on many paths. The Ansel Adams gallery. (What an introduction!) Learning about the history present in and around Yosemite. Your orange chicken. Games around the table. Always wanting to be on your Trivial Pursuit team (or Tom's, but i needed one of you two on my team to win).
Our trips to Disneyland. Car trips here and there and around and about.
Gingerbread girls, with my name on them.
Stringing Christmas lights to your house the winter your mother died, because you didn't want to come back to a dark house at a time like that.
My mom teaching us to make refrigerator potato rolls (our holiday bread). And Christmas cookies. And ravioli assembly lines. Indian Fry bread with honey with you at Festival. Ginger ale.
Writing my paper on a female hero (heroine, if you will) for an AAUW writing contest in Junior High. About you. Meaning it.
You taking me out in your '57 Chevy. I don't remember where we went, those trips about Livermore, but it was in your car, and it was always a treat. Years later, taking you out for a spin, with you driving, in my mom's new blue Miata. (Top down, you wearing my greek fisherman's cap and a scarf.)
Music with you. The Livermore-Amador symphony as a child, and a few years ago, the San Francisco Symphony for a Sunday afternoon performance.
You teaching me that women can and will do most anything a man can do, even if there are cultural and social barriers. Teaching me about the AAUW. Teaching me about history. Showing me that there are causes worth fighting for - fighting hard. Leading me by example.
Hearing about how you not only were a ranking officer on a Navy ship in WWII, not only the only woman on the ship, but Ronald Reagan's leading lady in the on-board skit performed when he was flown out to amuse the troops.
Your care for critters and animals; your encouragement in all things i cared about, especially critters and biology and science.
Your astounding stash of bags. 8)
The first time i told someone outside our families that you were my grandma. I must have been 8 or 9. It was the first year we took you to choose and cut a Christmas tree for your house when we went to get ours; the owner looked at us (me holding your tree in one of my hands, and your hand in the other) and asked who the tree was for. I answered, "For my grandma's." I remember you smiling at me, and thinking that something special had just happened, but not really understanding quite what, or how much it meant to you.
You and Tom coming to visit me and take me to dinner in Santa Cruz, when i was in college.
Your generosity and acceptance of every crazy boyfriend i ever brought home to meet you. Including Russell.
How much it hurt over the last few years when your cancer therapy kept you from being able to eat (but not able to see us, go out with us, or visit and love us). How much joy it brought when you were able to eat again in these last few years, with the gusto and joy i remember.
Not being able to imagine how old you were. Or losing you. The picture of you and Tom in Yosemite is the icon of you in my mind.
Your (& Tom, individually) wishes for me on my wedding day: that i be blessed with as many amazing years with Russell as you shared with Tom. And your wedding gift of our wedding night at the Claremont hotel - because that's where you and Tom had your wedding reception and stayed on your wedding night.
Last Saturday, March 2nd, when you came out of your fog, looked at me, smiled, and said 'Oh, hi, meriko' - exactly as i remember you saying it every time you saw me for the last 23 years.
Holding your hand this last week. Kissing you goodbye each night as i left.
Holding Tom's hand today. Saying goodbye as the Honor Guard saluted you.
And that's not even the half of it. Go with peace, Lorraine. I love you.
We're continuing to sit with Lorraine. Her vital signs are dropping, slowly - but they're strong. We haven't been able to wake her in a day and a half. They came and gave her last rites on Tuesday night. Tom and i are doing a lot of just sitting with her.
I also picked up a small canon scanner, and took it with me yesterday. Tom and i went through photos, with him telling me the stories he remembers while i jotted them down so i can type them up for all their nieces and nephews. Tom and i found an album of Lorraine's from when she first joined the Navy - before they met - and it was amazing to look through. Tucked in was a dance card for a summer formal, with Tom's name written in the first dance, and a line extending him for the entire rest of the card.
I could go on and on about the things i've seen, the stories Tom & i have shared, and the peace i'm finding from sitting this vigil. I'm very lucky to be a part of Lorraine's life - all the way through now.
I am exhausted, but i wouldn't have it any other way.
Lorraine, my adoptive grandmother, is dying. She's been fighting cancer for a little over five years, and this fall, the doctors finally said that her body couldn't take any more curative therapy, and they were switching her to a pain-abatement regime. She did quite well for a long time - went to New York to see her sister, ate well, helped throw Tom (her husband, my adoptive grandfather) an awesome 80th birthday party, and so on. She was even doing pretty well two weeks ago when my parents visited, all things considered. They said she was a little more confused than before, but given that she was on time-release morphine, that seems expected. Heck, i'd be more confused than usual if you attached a 12-hour release morphine patch to me.
We got a phone call on Thursday night; she went on Tuesday to make her funeral arrangements, and her health started seriously declining the next day, on Wednesday. By Thursday, she wasn't able to swallow anymore.
On Friday Russell & i spent the day in Livermore with Tom and Lorraine. I helped Rose and Maudie care for Lorraine some; she held onto Russell's hand tightly. She is lucid for maybe 2 seconds at a time, every 5 or 6 hours. We visited with Tom. We talked & ate dinner with him.
My parents arrived on Saturday; they joined me at Tom & Lorraine's. Again, we talked with Tom, took care of Lorraine, had some dinner.
This morning, they went back over early, and then left for Las Vegas around noon. I went over later in the afternoon, having made dinner i could reheat and serve later. I stayed with Tom and Lorraine until around 8pm, when Tom went to bed.
Each day, i've learned more about the basic caregiving tasks for someone in their final days, who is restricted to bed. Today i learned the final bits, helping with the medications as well. I'll be trying to work half-days for the next few days; Tom needs me even more than Lorraine does.
What i'm learning? It's exhausting. It takes amazing amounts of energy, but i have it in me. I have this bit set in my hindbrain that fires automatically in situations of crisis like this; i experience my emotions, but in a small hyperreal box somewhere in my head. I store them up and process them later. I feel, but i don't fall apart. I can take care of people. (I get this strange, autonomous bit from my Grandma Jesolyn; my mom complains that it skipped her, but she has more of it than she thinks.) I wouldn't miss taking care of Tom and Lorraine for the world; i'm both very fortunate to have had them next door during my child & teenagehood, but also to be close enough to give a little back now.
And i can see it doing good. When i'm there, Tom sits with Lorraine more. She responds to him. She responds to me talking to her. Tom can talk to me, a little, about how he feels about this. I can't even begin to imagine where he is right now; he's losing his partner of 54 years.
One of the most precious gifts i received at my wedding was the wish (individually, from each of them) that i have as many happy years with Russell as they've had with each other. I hope their wish comes through; they're amazing people.