Goodbye Dad

March 23rd, 2013
Today, finally, we say goodbye to our Dad, Franklin J. Chiles.  Wish me luck that I don't stumble, sob uncontrollably, hiccup, or otherwise mar this solemn day.

March 24th, 2103

Dad right before he is ordained as a deacon in the Catholic Church

I started this post yesterday.  I did just fine at the funeral.  My brothers and sisters who read managed to get through their readings with hardly a hint of a sob.  My older brother wrote and delivered a moving eulogy.  There were more clergy, including the Bishop, all decked out in gold and red vestments, than I have ever seen gathered in one place.

And the follow-up luncheon went well.

By late afternoon, we all needed naps.

Today is another story.  I was fine until my teeth started to hurt.  And, suddenly, I felt very, very, very sorry for myself.  Very, very, very, very... So I turned my hand of Hand and Foot over to my Mom.  (Who can concentrate on cards with a toothache?)  And I started home.  I called Hub for a ride and when he picked me up -  I dissolved.  It was a me-sized puddle of pitiful, pain induced tears that crawled into bed.  I am not as devastated as all that wailing implies.  Sometimes weariness, stress, and pain induce a huge physical need in me to howl.    It's like a dam breaking.

My teeth still hurt.  I am still sad.  But I don't feel so very, very sorry for myself.  I had my Dad for a good long time.  He loved me all my life and that love is with me still.  I'm a lucky woman.

My Dad

He's gone.  Poof! Like that.  Yesterday, he smiled and nodded and dozed; talked to his children and grandchildren on the phone; slept as we sat and reminisced about endless pounds of bluefish from his deep sea fishing trips and of gathering duck eggs in the Spring. 

This morning, we gathered in that hospital room again.  We cried.  We laughed, though not as much.  As each of the "locals" arrived, Mom cried a little more.  We waited for a nurse or doctor to tell us what to do as his shell lay there, an empty reminder of what we have lost.

And then Mom held out her hands and we joined in a circle.  Mom touched Dad's shoulder on one side.  My sister touched his shoulder on the other side and we prayed together, as one.

Oh, Dad, see what you have done?  Your children, together, loving you, loving each other?  We each prayed that prayer, believing different things as we did, but united in our loss. 

I want you back.  I have things I want to ask you.  I will ask my sisters and brothers.  Together we will tell stories and you will be there.  I hope.  I pray.  Hope sustains.  It is our family motto.

So much has happened since I last blogged that I feel like a different person. In fact, my life has changed; my world has shifted. Someone who has been a part of my daily life for the past thirty-five years has died. I have been so lucky not to have lost a parent or a sibling or a close, close friend. I've lost aunts and a good friend and grandparents. But, when my husband's mother died three weeks ago, I got a foreshadowing of what will happen when my parents go. I'm not looking forward to it.

We only saw Mom M. every 3 or 4 weeks. But in the month before her death we talked to her 5 or 6 times a day. My husband visited her - a 3 hour trip each way - every two or three days. And then, it was over. She was alert to the end. She died of old age - 95 and worn out but aware until the last few hours of her life.

I am surprised to find how often I thought of my mother-in-law during the day. I find a recipe and wonder if Mom M. would like this. The phone rings and I think that it's Mom M. calling. I find something she gave me. I read a poem she liked, read a story in the newspaper. Because she is no longer here, I notice these fleeting thoughts. But I must have had them every day because they percolate so frequently.

I last posted 8 days before her death so you already know about my bout with ear infections again. Guess what? Side effects of two medications I take daily include ear and sinus infections. Mayhap, I should change my meds.

Enough about me. I finally read "Terrier" by Tamora Pierce. WhooHoo! That Tammie can write a fine fantastic police procedural. Beka Cooper has made it into the Guards in ancient Tortall. She's a first year, or "puppy" and she is being trained by the best two officers in the city. Pierce's descriptions of Corus, the capital city of Tortall, the social strata there and the customs of the common folk are seamless. She's a master at giving you information that you need without making you feel like you're being lectured. You learn some of the stuff along with Beka and the rest is just described. There is a full glossary and list of characters in the back of the book if you get confused.

Beka, her patron, Lord Gershon, and her trainers are chasing two extremely evil murderers. One criminal is kidnapping and killing children, demanding the small treasures of the poor and not so poor. Those who pay the ransom get their child back. Those who don't never see the child again. Beka's ability to hear the ghosts carried by the pigeons of Corus alerts her to the extent of this criminal's murders. Other ghosts tell her of men who are hired to dig a well and are poisoned or bludgeoned. Fortunately for Beka, there are complaints of missing children and men and her patron and trainers believe in her abilities. Pierce makes these fantastic talents believable as well.

Besides Beka and her trainers, there are the friends she makes among the people who hang out in the Rogue's court. And there's Pounce. Wait til you meet Pounce! All in all, this is a totally satisfying adventure and since it is subtitled Book One, I certainly hope there will be more books about Beka Cooper.

A good book is a blessing, a vacation, a relief. I took "Terrier" on vacation with me last week. Since I have had trouble sleeping since Mom M.'s death, "Terrier" kept me company while my husband slept. I felt comforted and alive and ready to write again after reading for awhile. More books, please!

Keep reading.