The last writing I did was a report on the small progress I have made since I lost Barbara. I do believe I have had progress, but it is so difficult to continue pushing my way and extending that progress. I still have a long ways to go.
I have come to realize that along side the progress I have made there is a polar opposite going on in my life. Burnout. I feel so tried most of the time. Part of the inner fatigue that I feel is from trying to continue with the progress in those small areas as I described previously. It takes a lot out of me to push myself to clean on the house, to do the laundry, to cook for myself and especially to make those phone calls. There are many times when I just simply do not feel like doing those things and sometimes, to be honest, I do not do them but rather put them off for a day or so.
The biggest part of my life that is suffering burnout though is my job. I find myself with no desire to get up and go to work every day. To understand this, I guess you need to know how I approached my job before the summer of 2018 slapped me in the face. I absolutely loved my job. Each day I looked upon it as a new challenge to be faced and defeated. I was always early arriving and worked hard throughout the day and accomplished a lot. I pushed myself to work as fast and as accurately as possible, to meet deadlines. I was good at it. My job is not one of physical labor but rather mental labor. I was thinking non-stop for 8 hours a day and then more after I got home and as I was readying and driving to work the next day. I would have projects I was working on burned into my memory and be solving problems a lot of the time while in the car or when I was supposed to be watching a movie with Barbara. Many times Barb would say something to me and I had no clue what she was talking about. I was working in my mind.
On days when I would wake up to find a fresh layer of snow on the ground, I saw it as another challenged to be faced and brought down. I got this from my dad. When it snowed, we were more determined to make it to the office early then on any other day. It was a feeling of accomplishment to defeat the roads and the snow and the traffic of others who did not seem to know how to drive in the snow. Both me and dad always won those mornings in the snow.
Now I feel burned out though. My motivation is all but completely gone. Those things that I listed in my progress piece, you will notice I never say I got this. I have overcome this. No, it is a work in progress. I have to will myself to get up and do some cleaning on the house. I have to will myself to gather my clothes and go downstairs to wash them. I have to will myself to make those phone calls. When answering a phone, if the caller ID is not there or it is a name I don't recognize, I do not answer it. I have to will myself to go to the store. It seems like most of the time, I just sit in my chair, next to Barbara's chair and watch the time go by.
My job is where I can feel the burn out the most though. Now my mind totally forgets about any project I am working on the minute I decide it is time to go home. Going home time. That use to mean about thirty or forty minutes later than when I should have left the office. Now as soon as it hits 3:30, I am gone. Long gone. I don't give my job another thought until I am sitting in my chair the next day. Work tires me out. It use to be an adventure everyday at the office. Come up with new ideas, design them, make them work. Untangle an obscene number of lines into individual circuits so that they don't cross and everything works as it should. I use to think of laying out those printed circuit boards as being like working a puzzle everyday and it was a challenge. Now, I pull up the program that I use to create those boards and I feel tired almost immediately just by looking at all those lines. I have a deadline though and so I push my way though it and do the best that I can. It wears me out though.
My productivity at the office is definitely decreasing. I am not as fast as I once was. I go about my job, whether it be mechanical or electrical, with a very definite pace, a slow pace. This last winter, for the first time I can ever remember, I awoke to seeing snow on the streets. I stood there and looked at it. The feeling of a challenge in the snow was gone. I did not want to get out in it. The snow had finally won. I called the office and took a day of vacation. Last winter each time it snowed over night, I stayed home. I didn't seem to feel that my job was so important for me to drag myself out and fight those slippery streets.
If I were at the point where I hope to be in the near future, I would walk into the office and quit on the spot. I am tired. I have put forty years of my life into this company. That is a lot of time. I have traveled for this company. The company sent me to Chicago, Los Angeles, Phoenix, Dallas, Boston, Seattle, Denver, and over a two year period I was in San Fransisco every other week for a week at a time. Two years in the Bay Area. I enjoyed it then. I don't think I would now though. I am too tired to hit the road for the company any more. I think that they can sense it in me.
Sometimes, I feel burned out on life. Getting up everyday and going through the same routine over and over and over .... but I keep going. Barbara left a note on her computer just in case her surgery did not go the way we wanted it to, which it did. In the opening line of that note, she practically begs me to keep on going even though she knows I will be tempted not to. She knew it would be hard but she also knew that it was important for me to keep pushing though life and she knew I could do it. So here I am. Pushing through life. To be honest, I am not enjoying life as much as I use to. Things are so different without her to bounce ideas off of, to make jokes with, to have a partner walking beside me. I am alone. Yes I have cousins and other family members around, it isn't the same though. There is no way it could be the same.
I have tried to figure out what has caused this burnout in me since Barbara passed. I think that it has something to do with how my life has been the last several years. I have spent my time being a caregiver, taking care of people. I took care of my uncle. I took care of my sister. I took care of mom and dad, and finally I took care of Barbara. My uncle died. My sister died. MY parents moved to Alabama where my father died. and finally, the last person I took care of, Barbara, died. I am not a caregiver to anyone now. I feel like that had become my sense of purpose in life. Now they are all gone and I find myself alone.Even though I know it isn't the case, the idea pops into my head that I failed at taking care of my uncle, sister and wife. I know that isn't true but the thought does creep in once in awhile. I did the absolute best that I could for all of them. That is the best reasoning I can come up with for feeling so burned out and alone.
All I know for sure is that I am tired. That I feel alone. I feel this way because I lost Barbara, the one constant in my life for over 42 years.
Okay. I know you all are getting tired of me writing about Barbara ALL the time so I am going to try to write more about my past and things that I experienced in life. The things that most of my readers are here for. Life is interesting and some of the things that happen to us, well, they can be pretty bizarre and funny. So I am going to dig back into my brain and try to remember things. Millions of memories are buried in there, it is just a matter of digging them out and sharing them.
Thank all of you for your patience with me over the last year or so.
Wednesday, September 18, 2019
Tuesday, August 27, 2019
ONE YEAR AND THE PROGRESS MADE
It was July 23, 2018 when my wife of 42 years left this world for the next. At the time I had spent a week by her side while she lay in a coma. God had given me the time to prepare for what I was about to go through. A year ago last Sunday, on July 28, 2018, we laid Barbara to rest in a spot we had purchased when death was the furthest things from our minds in 1982. It was the next day as I sat in my house alone for the first time that a new life began for me. A life without Barbara.
As I sat there thinking the events of the last two weeks and the last 42 years over I realized I was not ready for this new style of living. I didn't want this new style of living. I wanted my Barbie back. The reality of her no longer being with me hurt like nothing I had ever experienced before. I did not think I was capable of taking care of things the Barb had. I did not know how to pay bills electronically. I did not know so many things about what Barb did during the day while I was at work to keep the house moving along in spite of her pain and fatigue.
I would learn though. I had no choice but to learn. I spent the better part of the year trying to straighten out her Social Security Disabled status and getting the billing for her hospital stay that week to the proper insurance companies. It was frustrating. It was hard. On top of that I was still learning the workings of the house. I had to learn the dog's daily schedule. I had to remember to clean things once in awhile. Apparently they just didn't get done by themselves. It was during this time that I came to realize how dependent I truly was on Barbara for so many little things. The time that it takes to get those little things taken care of add up quickly. I am so very thankful that Lori was there on a daily basis to help Barbara and to keep an eye on her. Lori allowed Barbara to do what she could so her self esteem would not drop but take over when Barbara could not do anymore each day.
It seemed that as each day passed without Barbara, my sadness and grief would grow. For the past several years when I would come home from work each day, Barbara managed to get out of her chair and her and Dutch would go to the front door, open it up and greet me as I walked up the sidewalk. I never realized how much that meant not only to me, but to Barbara as well. It was something that she could do to make my day a little better after a rough day at the office. Now as each day passed and I would come home from work walking up the sidewalk, the door would remain closed. Dutch would be on the other side of that door waiting for it to open. Each day as Dutch and I went through that new ritual I found myself missing Barbara just a little bit more.
As difficult as those things were, they were the easy part of learning a new life without Barbara. The biggest event that happened was three months and two days later when my father was also called home. When my grandfather and both my grandmothers had died, Barbara had been there to hold me up. When my Uncle Danial passed away, who I had been so very close to, Barbara was there to hold me up. When my sister Carol succumbed to cancer, again Barbara was there to hold me up. Now daddy was gone and I sat at home by myself alone with not only the thoughts of Daddy, but missing the support that I always got from Barbara. I went to Alabama to talk at dad's funeral service there and found myself looking for Barbara to talk to from the pulpit as I had at Dan's memorial service. Barbara was not to be found though and I had an extremely difficult time getting through that talk without her. It was the first time I had publicly spoken where I did not have an anchor to keep my emotions in check and I did not do very well. I found myself looking at three faces to try to be that anchor, my nephew Bo, my niece Kimberly Joyce and my great niece Haylee. However all three of those loving faces could not bring me the inner strength that the one face of Barbara had always brought to me.
I started writing this about a month ago. I set it aside for a time in order to take a hard look at the progress I have made since July of 2018. I think I have progressed fairly well.
Progress. It has been small and slow steps. I stop and think about it, and it is an entirely different life and lifestyle that I have never experienced before. It has been a learning experience.
I have come to the point where I can look at pictures of Barbara and recall the memory that goes along with the picture. I can remember it as a good memory and smile, enjoying the memory in the moment. However, these moments are also still filled with sadness but it is no longer a crushing sadness of realizing she is gone. It has morphed into a good sadness. I can smile and still miss her.
That is the biggest part of my progress I guess. Just being able to have memories and enjoy them a little along with the sadness.
I have begun to get out a little more instead of planting myself in the house. I am getting more comfortable going to the grocery store and buying for one instead of two. That is a more difficult than most people would realize.
Then there is the telephone situation. I have not changed our outgoing message. If you call me and I do not pick up, Barbara's voice will still explain that we are busy, please leave a message. I am not sure if I want to change these recording or not. On the one hand, I have a place that I can call and hear Barbara's voice whenever I want. On the other hand, I have no idea how to change the messages. This leads to my substantial progress in learning how to use the cell phone. This piece of equipment was totally foreign to me. I have learned over the last year how to actually use it in ways that help me get things done. I have learned how to text, and I use to despise texting. I have learned how to browse on it and how to use the calendar and clock.
The other side of progress on the phone is making phone calls. I am not good at this. I do not particularly like talking on the phone and I have a real problem making a phone call. I can answer a call much easier than placing a call. Anxiety over takes me when I try to do this. For all those years I had Barbara there to take care of things over the phone. She would make the calls and get things straightened out. Now I have to do that myself. I am getting better at it. I have learned that it is better to just jump in and make the call and most of the time things will work out. I used to procrastinate making a call until after it was too late to make the call. I had to learn how to do this fairly quickly as I took care of all of the paperwork involving Social Security, Medicare, and all of the hospital bills that were created for Barbara's care. I still freeze a little when preparing to place a call but I am much better at jumping in and just doing it.
I have progressed a tiny bit on going through some of Barbara's things and getting things in order by either getting rid of stuff or finding a proper place for what I want to keep. Going through her clothes is the toughest part for me. I have yet to make a dent in all of her outfits but I am getting there. I know what I have to do. I know how it will turn out. It is just difficult getting rid of anything of Barbara's. It is something that needs to be done. I know this.
Going through Barbara's clothes is one area where I need to make progress. The other area where I feel like I have not made any progress is coming home and not being met at the door. I find it fairly easy to leave the house but extremely difficult coming home. I still want to be met at the door and I feel the sadness come over me each time I arrive home. The house, other than Dutch, is empty. Everything is exactly as it was when I left. This is more or less an everyday thing that gives to me that cloud of sadness and loneliness. The house is quiet as I go through the motions of letting Dutch out, putting things away. or doing whatever needs to be done. When I come home from someplace, it is when I am the most lonely and sad. I have not gotten use to this feeling, to the quiet, to the emptiness. This is what I am trying to work on now.
So I have made a lot of progress in little steps, but I have a long ways to go yet. I still love her and miss her and I always will. Changing your style of living after 42 years is not an easy thing to do. The best progress I have made is being able to enjoy the memories. We had a lot of good memories made during our time together. I will always cherish those times.
Monday, April 22, 2019
BELDEN HOWARD CLARK (DAD)
I have been putting this off for awhile. If you are a regular reader of this blog, you know that I have written of many people who have passed away who played an important part of my life. Some have been relatives, some have been friends and some have been figures that just inspired me.
Dad passed away October 27, 2018, a mere 3 months and 4 days after Barbara passed away. Those were two of the most important people in my life that I lost in a very short time and it was a double gut punch. The year 2018 was a rough one for me and the entire family. However we all can mourn the loss of these two people with sadness but also with the knowledge that they are where they knew they would be when they died. They are in a place beyond description, both leaving the pain and suffering that they endured behind and are praising their God constantly. Both of them set an example for all of us and we should take heed to the example they set. I have already written about Barbara and what she meant to me both in life as well as in death. Now I attempt to write about my father and the man that he was.
I have written several pieces on dad over the span of this blog. I have written about him almost if not a little more than I have my grandfather. I haven't bothered to go back and count how many I wrote of each one but the volume of writing I have done reflects how important these two men were to me. But this one is about dad. It is a tribute and a memorial to the man that helped raise me under very serious health conditions for sixty-two years. And right at the top, I want it made clear that even though dad did face problems that sometimes effected his mood, he did the absolute best that he could and he did it well. His life and my grandfather's life are almost parallel to each other except for the health issue that dad carried with him through two thirds of his life.
My dad had a brain aneurysm when I was about four or five years old. He was in his early thirties. I talked to my Uncle Jack about the day it happened and it went something like this. Dad and Jack were at a baseball game. Now dad had some rules about attending a baseball game of which I have written before. The main rule we are dealing with is the rule that states that you do not leave a ball game until the last out of the last inning. Major rule. Jack told me that around the fourth or fifth inning dad began to complain of a headache. It quickly worsened and dad began to slump a little in the old wooden seats of Municipal Stadium. Then around the sixth inning, dad told Jack that he had to leave, the headache was getting worse. At this point my uncle knew that something was terribly wrong. Dad leaving before the end of a game was simply unheard of. So the two of them left the game early (I honestly think it was the one and only time dad ever left a game early) and headed home.
Facts get a little fuzzy for me here because I do have a vague memory of that day and am not sure what really went on. Sometime after dad got home from the game and the next morning, a blood vessel in his brain burst and rendered him unconscious, basically in a coma. I remember mom calling my uncle on the phone and it seemed like Jacks little white Beetle was in front of the house before she hung up.. They rushed dad to the hospital in an ambulance to the emergency room where I assume a team made up of many doctors and nurses worked to save his life. They were able to stabilize him and admitted him to the intensive care unit. However he was still in a coma. My mother was told by the doctor that dad had maybe a 5% chance of making it through this tragedy. It was a daunting thought for her as she began to prepare for what could be a life without dad. She had four young children and did not have a job. And so the praying began.
A quick word about praying for healing. I believe that God does hear every one of our prayers and that He answers them. All of them. Barbara had so many people praying for her as she lay in a coma for a week after her surgery. I do believe that God answered those prayers even though it wasn't the answer we wanted. God answered our prayers by taking Barbara home. I think God had His reasons for that and looking back I can see some of those reasons and I am not angry with God, but I am thankful that if it was time for her to leave this earth, she found a place safe in God's arms. The answer to the prayers for Dad was a different one though. God willed that it was not time yet for dad to join Him and slowly dad came out of the coma and began to heal. It would be a long and rough healing process though taking many years before he would be free from the terrible pain inflicted on him.
The aneurysm had left dad with the process of dealing with the most horrific headaches on almost a daily basis. The pain would be so bad at times that he would need to go to the local clinic to get a shot that would knock him out so he could get some sleep through the pain and get up the next morning and go to work. I am not sure if the pain ever really left him during those many years or he adjusted to it so that when the pain wasn't as bad as it could be, he would manage to function as if there was not any pain. That is the theory I hold to. I believe he was in constant pain for decades but when the pain lessened somewhat, he took advantage and took care of the family as best he could. This is the definition of a strong, loving, great man in my eyes. After oh so many years, the blood vessel that had been clamped off and was the cause of the headaches eventually rerouted itself around the clip and once the connection was completed, the pain started to dissipate. He still had headaches now and then but not to the point of not being able to sleep or function on a daily basis. I believe God healed that in a way only God could and dad became a little more able to tolerate noises and people than he had for most of his life. It was a blessing. A blessing that took a long time to realize but it did come.
Now comes the tough part to write. It is rough because I can look back on the time I was growing up through my preteen and teenage years and on into time after I had married and left the house and I am not proud of myself and my actions in relating with dad. I am not going to speak for my siblings, I am sure they had different experiences with dad than I did. I was a stubborn and independent child and teenager. I eventually outgrew that after I had a son of my own but for almost half of the time I had with dad I messed it up. Because of dad constantly dealing with pain, he was not as patient as a normal person would be. He would get frustrated easily. I feel like I did everything I could to test those few weak spots that my dad did have. I look back and can see all of the many things dad tried to do for the whole family. He tried his best to have a normal family life. He would take us on day trips like to Fort Osage. He would take us to baseball games of course, but I also remember he took us to a soccer game when Kansas City had the Spurs as a home team. He took us to hockey games. He put up a basketball goal over the garage and put up with all three windows in the garage and one of the living room windows being busted out by a basketball that came from my fingertips and he replaced the windows without complaint. He went to most of our little league baseball games and my band concerts. I even remember one time that he took off from work early so he could come to Smith-Hale Junior High School and watch me play a basketball game. He did absolutely everything he could to give us as normal of a family life as possible and he did it well. But as I was growing up, I could not see all of this.
Now I am not saying dad was perfect, he was just a man after all and I certainly wasn't perfect, I was far far from perfect. We butted heads quite a bit. It got ugly at times. It got a little violent at times. I can look back at those times now though and clearly see that it was my stubbornness and rebellion and independence that trigger the vast majority of the conflicts. I am not proud of that fact. The thing is dad and I had so many things in common. We both loved music. I got a lot of my taste in music from listening to dad's old albums. Hank, Jim Reeves, Eddie Arnold and Jimmy Dean were great singers who sang wonderful songs and I still to this day listen to a lot of those artists that dad loved. He taught me about the great players that I watched growing up. The Orioles, the Twins, the Redsox were all held up as legendary teams ... and oh yeah, those stinking Yankees as well. For some reason though, neither of us connected to each other on all those things we had in common. We spent more time butting heads then enjoying what we had in common.
What started to turn my thinking around was when I went to work at Rycom Instruments, where dad worked. When I first started working there, it was after school picking up trash and sweeping floors but it was also a chance to observe my father at his absolute best. He was so intelligent. He was a sheet metal worker and along with grandpa one of the two greatest sheet metal workers I have ever seen. He did not us a calculator but did all the math on the blue prints so he could see how he got the final figures. The things is, most of the days I saw him working he was in the grasp of those terrible headaches. I would see him wince in pain, rub his forehead and continue to work a full eight hours. I may be wrong, it may just be my perception but I honestly do not ever remember a day that dad took off sick. He practiced, and I learned, that you give eight hours work for eight hours pay. And that was a full eight hours without any halfway working but a full hard eight hours of focused hard work. That was when my respect for him started to turn and to grow as I realized how long he had been doing this day after day. It had been decades. And he never complained. Oh he would complain about some of his co-workers but never complained about his job or what he had to go through. It was this work ethic of my dad's that formed my own work ethic that I carry with me today. It was probably the greatest gift a father could give a son.
Well, dad worked until retirement. He made the adjustment fairly well as he began to learn how to help mom clean house and do dishes. He was determined to make life as easy as he could for mom and I think he was pretty good at it. Then he began to age and it began to catch up with him.
He suffered from a hernia. He had a couple of heart attacks. But it was after retirement that the biggest challenge he would face since his aneurysm happened. Dementia was starting to settle into that sharp mind of his. It didn't start off drastically, just little things for the first several years. Forgetting things, redoing things that he had already done, just little things like that. The first time I really noticed that something was happening was when he was in the hospital for something that I can't remember what it was.
In Kansas City they like to torture the Royals fans. They do this by showing a ball game live and after you watch them lose that game, they have a half hour post game show followed by?? yup, a half hour PRE-GAME show that would be followed by rebroadcasting the devastation once again. You not only got to see the Royals blow a game once, but just to make sure you get the full effect of another loss, they show it a second time. Well, I was spending the night with dad at the hospital one night and since the Royals were playing, we watched it. Dad tried to never miss a Royals game. During the game dad would comment on each play and each player, he enjoyed it so much. Of course the Royals lost the game and after it was over we watched a little of the post game then started to talk ignoring the television. Suddenly, dad looked up at the television and the Royals were playing a SECOND game!! And so we watched it. It was at this time that I first noticed that something was slipping. Dad began making the same remarks that he had during the same game four hours earlier. He watch the full game as though it was the first time he had seen it. The dementia would not really worsen for awhile or at least get worse very slowly but the process had begun.
Over the next few years dad's dementia continued to worsen and my moms eyesight weakened quite a bit. It was time to pay back to them what they had sacrificed for us. And so with help from my sister Karen and my niece Tara, both who went above and beyond the call of duty, we took care of mom and dad. It was also during this time that Barbara's health began to falter tremendously. Without Tara and Karen I would have been beside myself. I had to spend more time taking care of Barb and less taking care of mom and dad, although I tried to stop and check in on them everyday after work. So, just a shout out to Karen and Tara. THANK YOU BOTH SO VERY MUCH!
After awhile dad's knees began to give out on him and before long he had to use a walker to get around, even in the house. Adding taking care of Barbara to the care taking of mom and dad was piling up and becoming a little too much. Elaine discussed with mom and dad the idea of moving to Alabama where she could take care of mom and dad and I could concentrate on Barbara. It had a lot of benefits. It would give mom and dad a social life once again was a big one. Meals would be provided and a hospital was right across the street. And so in October of 2016, mom and dad moved to a small apartment in Camden, Alabama and I began to focus on Barbara.
Dad's dementia continued to worsen. It wasn't too long before it became apparent that with mom's eye sight as bad as it was and dad's dementia problems getting worse, it was getting to the point where both of them needed more help than living in the small apartment provided.
They kept dad in the assisted living facility for a short amount of time to evaluate him before moving him to the dementia facility. It was the first time in their marriage, other than dad's military time, that mom and dad were separated. We began studying dementia and the effects it has on people who suffer with it. We studied and listened to how the disease progresses and the how people with the disease make their way through the steps. Dementia is not pretty in the latter stages. It seemed like dad was heading towards another frustrating part of his life that the an aneurysm would bring him to. Our prayers for dad began to change. We did not him to leave us, but we didn't want to watch dad go through the suffering that progressive dementia would take him.
I was going to go to Alabama to visit dad once more before winter set in, knowing that by springtime his dementia probably would be to the point of him not knowing who I was. I was going to leave on Wednesday, October 31. However on the afternoon of October 27, my sister Karen showed up at the house to give me the news. Dad had passed away. I left for Alabama the next morning.
Once again God had answered prayers. It wasn't what we wanted necessarily, but it was God's plan, God's schedule to take dad home. I miss him. I loved him. But just as God had plans for Barbara, he had plans for dad. Dad would not have to endure the frustration and the misery that dementia would bring upon him. He had died quickly and easily as his heart suddenly just stopped. No real pain. No lingering around waiting to die. God took dad home in a most merciful way. As with Barbara, it was not only merciful to dad, but it was a show of mercy for all of us that we did not have to watch dad suffer.
Dad was buried in Blue Springs, Missouri. We had two memorial services for him. One in Camden Alabama where he had made friends with a lot of people and a lot of his family was there. The other was held in Blue Springs, Missouri for all the friends and family in the midwest. Both services were closed out with the attendees singing "Take Me Out To The Ballgame" in unison as a special tribute to dad and his love of baseball.
Dad is at peace with God along with so many people that he knew and influenced over the years, including Barbara. I am thankful in knowing that dad will not suffer from the horrors of dementia. That he will no longer have those headaches. That his knees will bow before God without pain and stiffness.
Our God is loving and merciful and gives us the gift of grace. If I learned anything during the year 2018, it was that. I already knew it, I believed it, but now I have a concrete belief in his love, grace and mercy. He has shown that to dad, to Barbara, and to me. I thank Him for that.
Dad passed away October 27, 2018, a mere 3 months and 4 days after Barbara passed away. Those were two of the most important people in my life that I lost in a very short time and it was a double gut punch. The year 2018 was a rough one for me and the entire family. However we all can mourn the loss of these two people with sadness but also with the knowledge that they are where they knew they would be when they died. They are in a place beyond description, both leaving the pain and suffering that they endured behind and are praising their God constantly. Both of them set an example for all of us and we should take heed to the example they set. I have already written about Barbara and what she meant to me both in life as well as in death. Now I attempt to write about my father and the man that he was.
I have written several pieces on dad over the span of this blog. I have written about him almost if not a little more than I have my grandfather. I haven't bothered to go back and count how many I wrote of each one but the volume of writing I have done reflects how important these two men were to me. But this one is about dad. It is a tribute and a memorial to the man that helped raise me under very serious health conditions for sixty-two years. And right at the top, I want it made clear that even though dad did face problems that sometimes effected his mood, he did the absolute best that he could and he did it well. His life and my grandfather's life are almost parallel to each other except for the health issue that dad carried with him through two thirds of his life.
My dad had a brain aneurysm when I was about four or five years old. He was in his early thirties. I talked to my Uncle Jack about the day it happened and it went something like this. Dad and Jack were at a baseball game. Now dad had some rules about attending a baseball game of which I have written before. The main rule we are dealing with is the rule that states that you do not leave a ball game until the last out of the last inning. Major rule. Jack told me that around the fourth or fifth inning dad began to complain of a headache. It quickly worsened and dad began to slump a little in the old wooden seats of Municipal Stadium. Then around the sixth inning, dad told Jack that he had to leave, the headache was getting worse. At this point my uncle knew that something was terribly wrong. Dad leaving before the end of a game was simply unheard of. So the two of them left the game early (I honestly think it was the one and only time dad ever left a game early) and headed home.
Facts get a little fuzzy for me here because I do have a vague memory of that day and am not sure what really went on. Sometime after dad got home from the game and the next morning, a blood vessel in his brain burst and rendered him unconscious, basically in a coma. I remember mom calling my uncle on the phone and it seemed like Jacks little white Beetle was in front of the house before she hung up.. They rushed dad to the hospital in an ambulance to the emergency room where I assume a team made up of many doctors and nurses worked to save his life. They were able to stabilize him and admitted him to the intensive care unit. However he was still in a coma. My mother was told by the doctor that dad had maybe a 5% chance of making it through this tragedy. It was a daunting thought for her as she began to prepare for what could be a life without dad. She had four young children and did not have a job. And so the praying began.
A quick word about praying for healing. I believe that God does hear every one of our prayers and that He answers them. All of them. Barbara had so many people praying for her as she lay in a coma for a week after her surgery. I do believe that God answered those prayers even though it wasn't the answer we wanted. God answered our prayers by taking Barbara home. I think God had His reasons for that and looking back I can see some of those reasons and I am not angry with God, but I am thankful that if it was time for her to leave this earth, she found a place safe in God's arms. The answer to the prayers for Dad was a different one though. God willed that it was not time yet for dad to join Him and slowly dad came out of the coma and began to heal. It would be a long and rough healing process though taking many years before he would be free from the terrible pain inflicted on him.
The aneurysm had left dad with the process of dealing with the most horrific headaches on almost a daily basis. The pain would be so bad at times that he would need to go to the local clinic to get a shot that would knock him out so he could get some sleep through the pain and get up the next morning and go to work. I am not sure if the pain ever really left him during those many years or he adjusted to it so that when the pain wasn't as bad as it could be, he would manage to function as if there was not any pain. That is the theory I hold to. I believe he was in constant pain for decades but when the pain lessened somewhat, he took advantage and took care of the family as best he could. This is the definition of a strong, loving, great man in my eyes. After oh so many years, the blood vessel that had been clamped off and was the cause of the headaches eventually rerouted itself around the clip and once the connection was completed, the pain started to dissipate. He still had headaches now and then but not to the point of not being able to sleep or function on a daily basis. I believe God healed that in a way only God could and dad became a little more able to tolerate noises and people than he had for most of his life. It was a blessing. A blessing that took a long time to realize but it did come.
Now comes the tough part to write. It is rough because I can look back on the time I was growing up through my preteen and teenage years and on into time after I had married and left the house and I am not proud of myself and my actions in relating with dad. I am not going to speak for my siblings, I am sure they had different experiences with dad than I did. I was a stubborn and independent child and teenager. I eventually outgrew that after I had a son of my own but for almost half of the time I had with dad I messed it up. Because of dad constantly dealing with pain, he was not as patient as a normal person would be. He would get frustrated easily. I feel like I did everything I could to test those few weak spots that my dad did have. I look back and can see all of the many things dad tried to do for the whole family. He tried his best to have a normal family life. He would take us on day trips like to Fort Osage. He would take us to baseball games of course, but I also remember he took us to a soccer game when Kansas City had the Spurs as a home team. He took us to hockey games. He put up a basketball goal over the garage and put up with all three windows in the garage and one of the living room windows being busted out by a basketball that came from my fingertips and he replaced the windows without complaint. He went to most of our little league baseball games and my band concerts. I even remember one time that he took off from work early so he could come to Smith-Hale Junior High School and watch me play a basketball game. He did absolutely everything he could to give us as normal of a family life as possible and he did it well. But as I was growing up, I could not see all of this.
Now I am not saying dad was perfect, he was just a man after all and I certainly wasn't perfect, I was far far from perfect. We butted heads quite a bit. It got ugly at times. It got a little violent at times. I can look back at those times now though and clearly see that it was my stubbornness and rebellion and independence that trigger the vast majority of the conflicts. I am not proud of that fact. The thing is dad and I had so many things in common. We both loved music. I got a lot of my taste in music from listening to dad's old albums. Hank, Jim Reeves, Eddie Arnold and Jimmy Dean were great singers who sang wonderful songs and I still to this day listen to a lot of those artists that dad loved. He taught me about the great players that I watched growing up. The Orioles, the Twins, the Redsox were all held up as legendary teams ... and oh yeah, those stinking Yankees as well. For some reason though, neither of us connected to each other on all those things we had in common. We spent more time butting heads then enjoying what we had in common.
What started to turn my thinking around was when I went to work at Rycom Instruments, where dad worked. When I first started working there, it was after school picking up trash and sweeping floors but it was also a chance to observe my father at his absolute best. He was so intelligent. He was a sheet metal worker and along with grandpa one of the two greatest sheet metal workers I have ever seen. He did not us a calculator but did all the math on the blue prints so he could see how he got the final figures. The things is, most of the days I saw him working he was in the grasp of those terrible headaches. I would see him wince in pain, rub his forehead and continue to work a full eight hours. I may be wrong, it may just be my perception but I honestly do not ever remember a day that dad took off sick. He practiced, and I learned, that you give eight hours work for eight hours pay. And that was a full eight hours without any halfway working but a full hard eight hours of focused hard work. That was when my respect for him started to turn and to grow as I realized how long he had been doing this day after day. It had been decades. And he never complained. Oh he would complain about some of his co-workers but never complained about his job or what he had to go through. It was this work ethic of my dad's that formed my own work ethic that I carry with me today. It was probably the greatest gift a father could give a son.
Well, dad worked until retirement. He made the adjustment fairly well as he began to learn how to help mom clean house and do dishes. He was determined to make life as easy as he could for mom and I think he was pretty good at it. Then he began to age and it began to catch up with him.
He suffered from a hernia. He had a couple of heart attacks. But it was after retirement that the biggest challenge he would face since his aneurysm happened. Dementia was starting to settle into that sharp mind of his. It didn't start off drastically, just little things for the first several years. Forgetting things, redoing things that he had already done, just little things like that. The first time I really noticed that something was happening was when he was in the hospital for something that I can't remember what it was.
In Kansas City they like to torture the Royals fans. They do this by showing a ball game live and after you watch them lose that game, they have a half hour post game show followed by?? yup, a half hour PRE-GAME show that would be followed by rebroadcasting the devastation once again. You not only got to see the Royals blow a game once, but just to make sure you get the full effect of another loss, they show it a second time. Well, I was spending the night with dad at the hospital one night and since the Royals were playing, we watched it. Dad tried to never miss a Royals game. During the game dad would comment on each play and each player, he enjoyed it so much. Of course the Royals lost the game and after it was over we watched a little of the post game then started to talk ignoring the television. Suddenly, dad looked up at the television and the Royals were playing a SECOND game!! And so we watched it. It was at this time that I first noticed that something was slipping. Dad began making the same remarks that he had during the same game four hours earlier. He watch the full game as though it was the first time he had seen it. The dementia would not really worsen for awhile or at least get worse very slowly but the process had begun.
Over the next few years dad's dementia continued to worsen and my moms eyesight weakened quite a bit. It was time to pay back to them what they had sacrificed for us. And so with help from my sister Karen and my niece Tara, both who went above and beyond the call of duty, we took care of mom and dad. It was also during this time that Barbara's health began to falter tremendously. Without Tara and Karen I would have been beside myself. I had to spend more time taking care of Barb and less taking care of mom and dad, although I tried to stop and check in on them everyday after work. So, just a shout out to Karen and Tara. THANK YOU BOTH SO VERY MUCH!
After awhile dad's knees began to give out on him and before long he had to use a walker to get around, even in the house. Adding taking care of Barbara to the care taking of mom and dad was piling up and becoming a little too much. Elaine discussed with mom and dad the idea of moving to Alabama where she could take care of mom and dad and I could concentrate on Barbara. It had a lot of benefits. It would give mom and dad a social life once again was a big one. Meals would be provided and a hospital was right across the street. And so in October of 2016, mom and dad moved to a small apartment in Camden, Alabama and I began to focus on Barbara.
Dad's dementia continued to worsen. It wasn't too long before it became apparent that with mom's eye sight as bad as it was and dad's dementia problems getting worse, it was getting to the point where both of them needed more help than living in the small apartment provided.
They kept dad in the assisted living facility for a short amount of time to evaluate him before moving him to the dementia facility. It was the first time in their marriage, other than dad's military time, that mom and dad were separated. We began studying dementia and the effects it has on people who suffer with it. We studied and listened to how the disease progresses and the how people with the disease make their way through the steps. Dementia is not pretty in the latter stages. It seemed like dad was heading towards another frustrating part of his life that the an aneurysm would bring him to. Our prayers for dad began to change. We did not him to leave us, but we didn't want to watch dad go through the suffering that progressive dementia would take him.
I was going to go to Alabama to visit dad once more before winter set in, knowing that by springtime his dementia probably would be to the point of him not knowing who I was. I was going to leave on Wednesday, October 31. However on the afternoon of October 27, my sister Karen showed up at the house to give me the news. Dad had passed away. I left for Alabama the next morning.
Once again God had answered prayers. It wasn't what we wanted necessarily, but it was God's plan, God's schedule to take dad home. I miss him. I loved him. But just as God had plans for Barbara, he had plans for dad. Dad would not have to endure the frustration and the misery that dementia would bring upon him. He had died quickly and easily as his heart suddenly just stopped. No real pain. No lingering around waiting to die. God took dad home in a most merciful way. As with Barbara, it was not only merciful to dad, but it was a show of mercy for all of us that we did not have to watch dad suffer.
Dad was buried in Blue Springs, Missouri. We had two memorial services for him. One in Camden Alabama where he had made friends with a lot of people and a lot of his family was there. The other was held in Blue Springs, Missouri for all the friends and family in the midwest. Both services were closed out with the attendees singing "Take Me Out To The Ballgame" in unison as a special tribute to dad and his love of baseball.
Dad is at peace with God along with so many people that he knew and influenced over the years, including Barbara. I am thankful in knowing that dad will not suffer from the horrors of dementia. That he will no longer have those headaches. That his knees will bow before God without pain and stiffness.
Our God is loving and merciful and gives us the gift of grace. If I learned anything during the year 2018, it was that. I already knew it, I believed it, but now I have a concrete belief in his love, grace and mercy. He has shown that to dad, to Barbara, and to me. I thank Him for that.
 |
| The last photo of just my dad and myself together |
Wednesday, January 23, 2019
BARBARA ANN CLARK - PART 3
Well today is January 23, 2019. Six months to the day since God called our Barbara home. I thought that now would be a good time to finish writing about Barb and the end of her journey through life here on this Earth.
Barb successfully received her tissue valve in March of 2016 via the TAVR procedure and it worked great for awhile. By the end of the summer though it began to show the first signs of failing. By the end of October of 2016, she was having stamina problems once again as her breathing slowly became more difficult. It was then that the Doctors and Surgical team began to look for causes that could be causing her to decline just a bit.
The first thing they thought was that a blood clot had formed inside of her heart partially blocking the intake of the new valve. She was put on blood thinners to try to slowly break down any clot that might be there. Because of her stature and the problems with her back and neck, they could not get a good image of her heart to tell what was actually going on inside there.
Soon she began to retain water early in 2017 and was put on a heavy regiment of diuretics. While the medicine did seem to at least stop the continued retaining of fluids, it came to the point where it over taxed her kidneys. She was admitted to the hospital for almost a week to try to get the kidneys back to as close to normal as they could. It worked to a point with her kidneys recovering to about 90% of what they should be.
As we entered 2018, after several months on the blood thinners they came to the conclusion that there was not a blood clot in her heart. The blood thinners would have dissipated the clot by that point. Meanwhile the fluid sack around her heart became the target of the doctors concerns. They were able to do a few minor tests that led them to this conclusion and the symptoms made sense. With fluid around her heart building, the heart was forced to work harder to be able to pump the required blood through. As the heart continued to over work it began to harden and the walls of the heart were getting thicker. The heart is a muscle and so it was over excersizing and like any muscle, excersize brings growth of the muscle. It was also at this time that they discovered that her heart murmur was returning indicating that the valve was indeed failing.
In the spring of 2018, they, as well as Barb and myself, had a decision to make. The heart valve was failing. The heart was being overworked. The proper course of action was to get into her heart and thin out the walls of the heart to make it more pliable and easier to do its job. The tissue valve would also be replaced by a mechanical valve. It was a procedure that the surgeons have done many times, but Barb was different.
We had already established that open heart surgery was extremely risky for Barb. It was, however, the only option they had left to do what needed to be done. It was risky enough that they gave Barb a very real option. The surgery was risky. Extremely risky. IT was at BEST a 60/40 chance of success. That was if everything went perfect. If they ran into little bumps during the surgery the odds of survival went down. If Barb elected not to do the surgery, chances were that her heart would more than like give out in approximately a year. If the surgery was successful, her life span would be unknown, but would be in the years, not the months. The two of us discussed this a lot as we entered the summer of 2018 and eventually came the day when Barb decided to try the surgery. The doctors set the date for the surgery at July 16, 2018.
Leading up to the surgery day, Barb began to prepare. She prepared for both possible outcomes. She planned on what we would need and how to set things up when she came home from the surgery. She also planned things out for me in the case that she didn't come home. She had Lori take Brett's and my suits to be dry cleaned. She prepared a file on her computer desktop entitled "If" that I was to open if something went wrong. This file listed things that she wanted done after she died and also listed her funeral requests. When I think on her preparing for both scenarios, it makes me realize how incredibly strong and brave she was going into the surgery. She was indeed a remarkable woman.
The surgery did not go well. It started out fine but then it seemed like everything was going wrong.
I am not going to get into all the details of the ups and downs that Barb had during and after the surgery. I don't think I can at this point. It would be extremely difficult for me to write. I did however write an email to one of her friends outlining what happened during the surgery and afterwards. I am going to share that email as a tool to describe what went on. I will say this though. The night of the surgery, no one on the surgical staff thought Barb would make it through the night. She did. She not only made it through the night but made it a week before her poor body gave out.
Here is the email I sent to her friend describing in a very sketchy way what happened that week.
Barbara's
aortic valve that they had put in back in 2016 had failed and was
getting worse. in 2016 they had attempted to put that valve in via open
heart but decided it was too risky. They ended up putting the valve in
through her aorta.
When
that valve failed she was faced with two options. Try to get a new
valve in by open heart surgery which was extremely risky or wait until
the initial valve would give out. It would have lasted maybe a year but
probably less. She decided to try getting a new valve even though it
would be open heart.
The
surgery was extremely risky. We knew that going in, which was probably
why she kept it on the down low. it was pretty much a 50/50 chance.
Her
surgery was scheduled for July 16. At first it seemed like things were
going okay. They were able to open her chest. Then we got word that
the new valve had been inserted. I truly thought at that point that we
had it made. When they went to put her heart back together, however,
the tissue in her heart walls would not hold a suture. The tissue would
tear every time and pretty soon she was hemorrhaging. The surgeon did
his best to try to get things back and ended up putting some packing in
her heart to try to help the blood clot and stop bleeding. What was
suppose to be a five hour surgery turned out to be twelve hours.
During
this time of all the bleeding her heart weakened substantially.
Damage was also incurred on the kidneys and her respiratory system. He
did get the packing inserted and was able to close, but the outlook was
extremely grim. They did not think she would make it through the
night. She was put on full life support. Her heart was working very
weak but she could not breathe on her own. They put a "balloon pump
through her artery.to assist her heart in beating. She was on 100%
ventilator.
The
plan was to try to get her vitals stabilized since she had made it
through the night. She was put on about 12 different meds that they
tried to tweak to get her vitals up to somewhat normal. After a few
days her kidneys began to fail and she started retaining fluids putting
extra strain on her already weakened heart. They put her on dialyses at
that point.
On
Sunday afternoon, July 22, all of a sudden every thing crashed. Her
heart rate raced upwards to 200 bpm and her blood pressure plummeted. I
came home that evening but couldn't stay away. I went back to the
hospital and spent the night talking to her and holding her hand.
At
10:00 Monday morning, July 23, the doctor came in and said that they
had done everything they could. They could keep her on life support for
a little while but it was just putting off the inevitable. I decided
that she would not want that and so they began the process of
disconnecting the ventilator and the heart pump and turned the dialyses
machine off and stopped all meds. I was able to talk to her a bit and
give her a kiss. She passed away at 10:10 AM on July 23.
She never awoke from the surgery. She went peacefully and quietly without pain.
We
were prepared for either outcome but I don't think either of us really
thought she would not make it through safely. It was the saddest day of
my life.
We had been married 42 years with two years of dating before being wed. She was my life.
The world is a lesser place without her.
Thank you for your friendship, she treasured it. She was the social one of the two of us.
I knew two days into her time in ICU that week the direction things were heading. She never woke up but God gave me a week to spend time with her, day and night and to talk to her though she never answered. The week that God gave me prepared me and helped me to develop the strength I would need in the weeks, days, months ahead as 2018 became one of the most difficult years of my life.
Barb was a gem. She deserved and could have done much better than being with me all those years.
I thank God for that week in ICU with her. I wish I could tell her that I did do my best for her during that time.
I am sorry for not being a better husband to you than I was over the years. I did do my best though and I know that she did her best as we traveled on that journey together for forty two years.
I love you Barbara Ann. I miss you so very much.
This is a link to her obituary I thought you might want to have. https://www.dignitymemorial.com/obituaries/kansas-city-mo/barbara-clark-7942486
Friday, January 4, 2019
THE FIRST CHRISTMAS OF FORTY-TWO
We had been married just a little over a month in 1975 and we were young. She was 20 and I was a mere 19 years old. Neither of our jobs brought in a lot of money but we were doing well enough to keep a roof over our heads in the form of a little three room apartment and have food for us and a little dog named Babs. We were happy.
We both decided together that we would not spend a lot on Christmas for each other, saving the money instead. We wanted to get our parents Christmas presents and then a couple of small inexpensive gifts for each other. A Christmas Tree was out of the question. Either way we went, artificial or real, would be more than we could afford and besides Christmas was about more important things than a Christmas Tree and decorations. At this point in our life together we didn't have any ornaments anyway, so best to just put off all the extras that come along with Christmas and target the must haves.
Our money would be spent for groceries for Barbara to make dishes to take to each of our family Christmas dinners and we would make a donation to the Salvation Army following in my grandfathers footsteps. I was taught by both my grandfather and my father that every Christmas no matter what, make sure you take some of your money to help those who didn't have as much and the Salvation Army was the vehicle both chose to do. I remember being out at Christmas time with both men and when passing a Salvation Army bell ringer, stop and drop a few bills into the red kettles. It was the Christian and the proper thing to do. God had blessed you during the year, it is only right to give to those who were struggling. It became a habit with me and still is to this day. I always drop money into the first red kettle I see during the holiday season. It is a way to honor God, my father and my grandfather.
The first Christmas would also set a precedent for me. I never seem to get my Christmas shopping finished for Barbara, and later Brett, until the last minute. This was the situation I found myself as we approached our first Christmas together.
It was Christmas Eve of 1975 when I left the office to head home. I drove my old blue Chevy towards the apartment knowing I would have to stop somewhere to find something for Barbara's Christmas the next morning. My head was filled with thoughts of where I should stop to accomplish the task. There was a Ben Franklin 5 & 10 store on my way home so I decided I would stop there to see what I could find. Once that decision was made, my mind started wondering what I would get her. Maybe some earrings? Maybe a necklace? I did not have a clue. My first inclination when going to a Ben Franklin store or one of that ilk was to go to the music section of the store and buy an album of some sort. That, however, was not a very good idea to give to Barb for Christmas that year, Especially since it was our first Christmas. I imagined she would think that I was buying her a present more for myself then for her and to a certain degree she would probably be right in that thinking. Okay, no album I told myself.
It was kind of cold and the sun was just beginning to go down as I pulled into the Ben Franklin parking lot. I had to do this quick not wanting Barb to know I had waited until the last minute to get her a present. As I learned through following Christmas' she always figured I had not finished my shopping until pretty close to Christmas Eve. She on the other hand was a machine of efficiency, carefully picking out gifts and getting it taken care of shortly after Thanksgiving. This would be the pattern of each of our habits for the next forty two years together. One thing that became a tradition for Christmas as the years went by was that I would go to Lara Little's, a little candy shop at 75th and State Line to get her a half pound of sugar free chocolates. Our last Christmas together, a couple of days before Christmas, we were heading over to my cousin's house. I had not stopped at the candy shop yet. As we headed up 75th Street I told her I had to make a stop first. She knew exactly where I was going and what I was going to go there for. As we pulled up to the candy shop I told her to close her eyes and not to peek until I said so. She rolled her eyes at me and said, sure, but she didn't. I went into the shop, bought the chocolates and coming back out of the store popped the trunk and threw the box in there. As I got in the car she was looking at me with this all knowing little grin on her face. I told her to forget we were ever here and she agreed to do so. It was just my way to forget to do the little things until the last minute.
I walked into the Ben Franklin and started my shopping, wandering up and down the aisles trying to find the perfect inexpensive gift. I looked at everything that I could think of that might be as close to a perfect gift as possible. I finally settled on a cheap earring/necklace set to get her. Then over to the perfume area I went. On my way to that part of the store though, something else caught my eye.
There, standing alone on a shelf, was a little three foot tall artificial Christmas Tree. It stopped me in my tracks. I looked at the boxes underneath the little tree and found out that it was on sale for eight dollars. I knew that a Christmas Tree was what Barb wanted more than anything. I stared at the tree while my mind raced through dollar figures and the budget we had set for Christmas. Yes, it was a little bit outside our budget range if I got her the earrings and necklace, but it would make her so happy I thought. Then it came to mind that I would need some ornaments as well for taking a tree home without proper decorations would be pretty silly. Off to the side of where the tree boxes there were boxes of glass ball decorations. The prices ranged from around $2.50 up to $5.00. The cheaper balls were small. Not tiny but small. In short, they were the perfect size for this three foot tree. I decided that Christmas only comes once a year, and it would be worth it to have a Christmas Tree for our first Christmas together. I decided to forget the perfume and get the tree and a box of small red glass balls to decorate it with. Heading back to the car with earrings, necklace, Christmas Tree and the glass ornaments in hand, I felt pretty proud of myself.
When I got home to the apartment, Barb was still at work. I took my purchases inside and back to our bedroom. After wrapping the small box that held the earrings and necklace I sat and wondered what to do about the tree. Should I set it up and have it decorated before she got home? Should I surprise her with it and let her decorate it? Yes, that is what I would do. I took the little tree out of it's box and located the small stand that was at the bottom of the box. Taking it into the living area, I looked around for where to put it. Barb's dad had given us a small television stand that we were using as a table for mail and books to be set on. After clearing the little table I set up this cute little tree (yes, it had become somewhat cute to me by this time) on it.
It was about this time I heard Barb's car pull up in front of the apartment. I sat and started to glance over the newspaper from that morning, pretending to read what I had already read and waited for her arrival inside the apartment. As she entered I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye to catch her expression. She walked in and started to take off her coat to hang it up when she suddenly stopped. She had seen the tree. She looked over at me then back to the tree. She asked me where I had found it and so I told her the story of stopping at the five and ten store and seeing it on sale. Her mouth turned up into that huge smile of hers. She came over and gave me a hug and thanked me while at the same time asking me if this was her Christmas present. As I got up to go into the bedroom to get the ornaments she expressed her happiness by telling me over and over thank you. She loved it. First Christmas, first Christmas Tree. It was PERFECT.
I came out of the room carrying the box of red glass balls and told her there was more. She looked at the box then asked "Lights?" Dang, That had not crossed my mind. I just told her no, no lights and she said ok. It was then that we began a Christmas tradition that would last for 42 years. I sat on the couch while she opened the ornaments and decorated the tree. She went and got a sheet from the closet to wrap around and over the stand and carefully placed gifts underneath it. It looked good.
She had bought the dog some treats for Christmas and had wrapped them and placed them under the tree with the other gifts. It was about three days after Christmas when we came home to a dreadful sight. Apparently we had left one of Bab's treats under the tree and Babs had sniffed it out. The dog had tried to get at it by stretching herself up to the table and the whole tree had fallen on the hard floor. The majority of the glass ornaments had broken but we manage to find four or five that survived. After cleaning up the broken glass, the remainder of the balls were put back in the box and the Christmas tree was stored away.
It was the way every Christmas should, or would be. A lot of fun and happiness added along with a tiny disaster just to keep things interesting.
Well, Christmas of 2017 would be our last Christmas together. We were on our second tree since that first one. It was five foot tall and had the lights already on it. Over the years the little three foot tree remained a part of our Christmas as Barb and Brett would place it in his room for the Christmas season and it remains with me to this day.
Through the years, we have increased our collection of ornaments by quite a bit. We began two other traditions over the years. Each year Barb would by a new ornament for the tree and I would by a new Christmas album to add to the collection to be listened to over the holidays. Our parents gave us ornaments that each of us had as children and they, along with the ornaments Brett was bringing home from Sunday School each year, made the tree just a little more festive each year. We have had Cubs ornaments and Mizzou ornaments. Last year one of my cousins who is a huge Kansas fan gave us a Mizzou ornament for Christmas. Barbara loved it. She loved it not only because it was Mizzou, but also because Eric had willed himself to purchase something that was Black and Gold. Barb felt like it was a great showing of love for Eric to to do that and she promised that she would return the favor this year ... by getting Eric a Mizzou ornament. Not surprisingly, Eric said no thanks to the offer. We did not know it would be our last Christmas together and we were happy, as happy as that first Christmas forty two years prior.
So this Christmas I sat alone. Barb had passed away at the end of July and my dad had passed away towards the end of October. I had spent forty two Christmas' with Barbara and sixty one with my dad. It was a quiet day this year. There was not a tree set up and decorated but I did spend Christmas in what I consider a special way.
You see I decided to spend this Christmas with Barb and dad. I would spend it with them by remembering special Christmas moments and memories that I had of dad over the last sixty one years and remember all those very special Christmas' with Barb. All forty two of them. Yes it was a quiet Christmas but not a lonely one. All of those memories filled the day for me and all those memories were good and filled my heart with a peace and love for those two special people that were such a huge part of my life during our time together.
There will never be another Christmas like the Christmas of 1975 and there will never be another Christmas like the Christmas of 2018. Both were very special.
I sincerely hope all of the my readers had as good of a Christmas as I did this year. May God bless all of you as we head into another year that no doubt, will bring many changes to all of our lives.
Love you all
Bill
We both decided together that we would not spend a lot on Christmas for each other, saving the money instead. We wanted to get our parents Christmas presents and then a couple of small inexpensive gifts for each other. A Christmas Tree was out of the question. Either way we went, artificial or real, would be more than we could afford and besides Christmas was about more important things than a Christmas Tree and decorations. At this point in our life together we didn't have any ornaments anyway, so best to just put off all the extras that come along with Christmas and target the must haves.
Our money would be spent for groceries for Barbara to make dishes to take to each of our family Christmas dinners and we would make a donation to the Salvation Army following in my grandfathers footsteps. I was taught by both my grandfather and my father that every Christmas no matter what, make sure you take some of your money to help those who didn't have as much and the Salvation Army was the vehicle both chose to do. I remember being out at Christmas time with both men and when passing a Salvation Army bell ringer, stop and drop a few bills into the red kettles. It was the Christian and the proper thing to do. God had blessed you during the year, it is only right to give to those who were struggling. It became a habit with me and still is to this day. I always drop money into the first red kettle I see during the holiday season. It is a way to honor God, my father and my grandfather.
The first Christmas would also set a precedent for me. I never seem to get my Christmas shopping finished for Barbara, and later Brett, until the last minute. This was the situation I found myself as we approached our first Christmas together.
It was Christmas Eve of 1975 when I left the office to head home. I drove my old blue Chevy towards the apartment knowing I would have to stop somewhere to find something for Barbara's Christmas the next morning. My head was filled with thoughts of where I should stop to accomplish the task. There was a Ben Franklin 5 & 10 store on my way home so I decided I would stop there to see what I could find. Once that decision was made, my mind started wondering what I would get her. Maybe some earrings? Maybe a necklace? I did not have a clue. My first inclination when going to a Ben Franklin store or one of that ilk was to go to the music section of the store and buy an album of some sort. That, however, was not a very good idea to give to Barb for Christmas that year, Especially since it was our first Christmas. I imagined she would think that I was buying her a present more for myself then for her and to a certain degree she would probably be right in that thinking. Okay, no album I told myself.
It was kind of cold and the sun was just beginning to go down as I pulled into the Ben Franklin parking lot. I had to do this quick not wanting Barb to know I had waited until the last minute to get her a present. As I learned through following Christmas' she always figured I had not finished my shopping until pretty close to Christmas Eve. She on the other hand was a machine of efficiency, carefully picking out gifts and getting it taken care of shortly after Thanksgiving. This would be the pattern of each of our habits for the next forty two years together. One thing that became a tradition for Christmas as the years went by was that I would go to Lara Little's, a little candy shop at 75th and State Line to get her a half pound of sugar free chocolates. Our last Christmas together, a couple of days before Christmas, we were heading over to my cousin's house. I had not stopped at the candy shop yet. As we headed up 75th Street I told her I had to make a stop first. She knew exactly where I was going and what I was going to go there for. As we pulled up to the candy shop I told her to close her eyes and not to peek until I said so. She rolled her eyes at me and said, sure, but she didn't. I went into the shop, bought the chocolates and coming back out of the store popped the trunk and threw the box in there. As I got in the car she was looking at me with this all knowing little grin on her face. I told her to forget we were ever here and she agreed to do so. It was just my way to forget to do the little things until the last minute.
I walked into the Ben Franklin and started my shopping, wandering up and down the aisles trying to find the perfect inexpensive gift. I looked at everything that I could think of that might be as close to a perfect gift as possible. I finally settled on a cheap earring/necklace set to get her. Then over to the perfume area I went. On my way to that part of the store though, something else caught my eye.
There, standing alone on a shelf, was a little three foot tall artificial Christmas Tree. It stopped me in my tracks. I looked at the boxes underneath the little tree and found out that it was on sale for eight dollars. I knew that a Christmas Tree was what Barb wanted more than anything. I stared at the tree while my mind raced through dollar figures and the budget we had set for Christmas. Yes, it was a little bit outside our budget range if I got her the earrings and necklace, but it would make her so happy I thought. Then it came to mind that I would need some ornaments as well for taking a tree home without proper decorations would be pretty silly. Off to the side of where the tree boxes there were boxes of glass ball decorations. The prices ranged from around $2.50 up to $5.00. The cheaper balls were small. Not tiny but small. In short, they were the perfect size for this three foot tree. I decided that Christmas only comes once a year, and it would be worth it to have a Christmas Tree for our first Christmas together. I decided to forget the perfume and get the tree and a box of small red glass balls to decorate it with. Heading back to the car with earrings, necklace, Christmas Tree and the glass ornaments in hand, I felt pretty proud of myself.
When I got home to the apartment, Barb was still at work. I took my purchases inside and back to our bedroom. After wrapping the small box that held the earrings and necklace I sat and wondered what to do about the tree. Should I set it up and have it decorated before she got home? Should I surprise her with it and let her decorate it? Yes, that is what I would do. I took the little tree out of it's box and located the small stand that was at the bottom of the box. Taking it into the living area, I looked around for where to put it. Barb's dad had given us a small television stand that we were using as a table for mail and books to be set on. After clearing the little table I set up this cute little tree (yes, it had become somewhat cute to me by this time) on it.
It was about this time I heard Barb's car pull up in front of the apartment. I sat and started to glance over the newspaper from that morning, pretending to read what I had already read and waited for her arrival inside the apartment. As she entered I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye to catch her expression. She walked in and started to take off her coat to hang it up when she suddenly stopped. She had seen the tree. She looked over at me then back to the tree. She asked me where I had found it and so I told her the story of stopping at the five and ten store and seeing it on sale. Her mouth turned up into that huge smile of hers. She came over and gave me a hug and thanked me while at the same time asking me if this was her Christmas present. As I got up to go into the bedroom to get the ornaments she expressed her happiness by telling me over and over thank you. She loved it. First Christmas, first Christmas Tree. It was PERFECT.
I came out of the room carrying the box of red glass balls and told her there was more. She looked at the box then asked "Lights?" Dang, That had not crossed my mind. I just told her no, no lights and she said ok. It was then that we began a Christmas tradition that would last for 42 years. I sat on the couch while she opened the ornaments and decorated the tree. She went and got a sheet from the closet to wrap around and over the stand and carefully placed gifts underneath it. It looked good.
She had bought the dog some treats for Christmas and had wrapped them and placed them under the tree with the other gifts. It was about three days after Christmas when we came home to a dreadful sight. Apparently we had left one of Bab's treats under the tree and Babs had sniffed it out. The dog had tried to get at it by stretching herself up to the table and the whole tree had fallen on the hard floor. The majority of the glass ornaments had broken but we manage to find four or five that survived. After cleaning up the broken glass, the remainder of the balls were put back in the box and the Christmas tree was stored away.
It was the way every Christmas should, or would be. A lot of fun and happiness added along with a tiny disaster just to keep things interesting.
Well, Christmas of 2017 would be our last Christmas together. We were on our second tree since that first one. It was five foot tall and had the lights already on it. Over the years the little three foot tree remained a part of our Christmas as Barb and Brett would place it in his room for the Christmas season and it remains with me to this day.
Through the years, we have increased our collection of ornaments by quite a bit. We began two other traditions over the years. Each year Barb would by a new ornament for the tree and I would by a new Christmas album to add to the collection to be listened to over the holidays. Our parents gave us ornaments that each of us had as children and they, along with the ornaments Brett was bringing home from Sunday School each year, made the tree just a little more festive each year. We have had Cubs ornaments and Mizzou ornaments. Last year one of my cousins who is a huge Kansas fan gave us a Mizzou ornament for Christmas. Barbara loved it. She loved it not only because it was Mizzou, but also because Eric had willed himself to purchase something that was Black and Gold. Barb felt like it was a great showing of love for Eric to to do that and she promised that she would return the favor this year ... by getting Eric a Mizzou ornament. Not surprisingly, Eric said no thanks to the offer. We did not know it would be our last Christmas together and we were happy, as happy as that first Christmas forty two years prior.
So this Christmas I sat alone. Barb had passed away at the end of July and my dad had passed away towards the end of October. I had spent forty two Christmas' with Barbara and sixty one with my dad. It was a quiet day this year. There was not a tree set up and decorated but I did spend Christmas in what I consider a special way.
You see I decided to spend this Christmas with Barb and dad. I would spend it with them by remembering special Christmas moments and memories that I had of dad over the last sixty one years and remember all those very special Christmas' with Barb. All forty two of them. Yes it was a quiet Christmas but not a lonely one. All of those memories filled the day for me and all those memories were good and filled my heart with a peace and love for those two special people that were such a huge part of my life during our time together.
There will never be another Christmas like the Christmas of 1975 and there will never be another Christmas like the Christmas of 2018. Both were very special.
I sincerely hope all of the my readers had as good of a Christmas as I did this year. May God bless all of you as we head into another year that no doubt, will bring many changes to all of our lives.
Love you all
Bill
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)