Funeral Music: David Lanz, Christmas Eve

If you enjoyed the Christmas piano music at the funeral today and yesterday, you may want to buy the album of the guy who wrote and can really play it, David Lanz.  What I played is available on his album, "Christmas Eve" and the solo piano music is also available online.  These are the most amazing arrangements I have ever found, true to the originals, yet extraordinary.

Funeral Program

Eulogizing My Mother

I had a lot of time to think out in California over these last months.  I would lay in my bed at night in West Hollywood, sleepless, thinking about Mom, thinking about her life, thinking about different times we spent together as a family.  And I spent a lot of thought digesting everything that happened in this last nightmarish five months, all of the things she said and did when she was manic, what this cancer was doing to our family, wondering whether we should have fought it harder, whether it would have done any good, and what we were losing with the loss of Carol.

I found I wanted to eulogize her when the time came.  I wanted to take a shot at expressing what was important to her, what messages she would want us to carry forward into the future, from her legacy and the legacy of her parents and our ancestors who probably have influenced who we are more than we can know.

But how do you express a person's entire approach to life?  Should I take the responsibility for doing this onto my shoulders?  The answer kept coming back, "Yes".  Grieving or not, I was the best person to do it.  If I didn't, who would?  Pastor Wentworth has had a great relationship with my Mother, but it's not the same as someone who has known her intimately for 53 years, who "grew up with her", as Mom used to say we did.  She was so young and naive that she learned a lot as I learned it with her.  We were very good friends.

So here is my Eulogy for Mother.  I delivered it at her funeral today, holding together somehow enough to speak the words in front of her large "Rain Forest" of people who attended.

Eulogy for Mother

Delivered at Carol Lee Miller’s funeral December 28, 2011 by Rebecca Miller

Do you remember the first time you realized that your parent had a name other than, "Mommy" or "Daddy"?  I do.  

I was little, at the old farm house on Copley Road, standing at the counter while she washed dishes, reaching up to the counter, swinging one leg, saying, "Mommy, why did Daddy call you 'Carol'?"

"Because that's my name."

"No it's not, your name is 'Mommy'!", I exclaimed.

"No, my name is 'Carol', like your name is 'Becky'.  I am your 'Mommy' and you are my 'Daughter'.  A 'Mommy' is what I am to you.  I am your 'Mommy', but my name is 'Carol'".

"No, it's not!  Your name is Mommy!"  I insisted.

Well, I still want to own her, to keep her, to have her as mine, like I did 50 years ago.  But Carol belongs to the ages now, and her legacy reaches beyond what I could have imagined.

She taught me everything, from tying my shoes, to riding a bike, to holding my breath under water.  She answered a myriad of questions all through my childhood, with kindness and interest and truthfulness.  She helped me learn to bake bread, to embroider, knit, sew, and quilt.  She taught all of us to harvest vegetables, nuts and fruits, and how to preserve them by freezing or canning.  The number of things Mother taught me is un-ending and they have left a huge mark on my life, formed me completely, and helped to make me and my siblings the good people we are.  

Most of all, she taught us how to be independent, capable, and happy in life, how to look around at our blessings and thank God.  She cultured an attitude of gratitude that we still carry with us.  She sang happily around the house, she greeted Dad and us lovingly, she showed affection easily, and she was forever working, working, working, for us, her family - sewing, cleaning, canning, gardening, knitting, packing lunches, and organizing chore lists, back-to-school supplies, and camping trips.

That is how I saw my Mother in my long-ago memory.  Along with Abraham Lincoln, I think, “All that I am or hope to be I owe to my angel Mother.” 

However, these last months have taught me a lot more about Carol.  She kept a circle of friends that was broad, deep, and varied.  She and Dad have known how to maintain friendships for a long time, by visiting, calling, and writing.  They regularly "visited" in the old way people did, by dropping by when they were in the area, or by going out of their way to be in the area.  They would call, or not, and drop in and visit.  When we were kids, they'd load us in the car and "go visiting".  This is an art form that as a society we are fast losing.  Having 100 friends on Facebook is not the same as having a wide circle of friends that you visit regularly.

We all learned a lot about Carol when her tumors and swelling took the "filter" away between her unconscious brain and her mouth.  She started speaking things that were deeply buried, sometimes scary, sometimes hilarious, sometimes wonderfully creative, and sometimes silly, like Carol singing the OSU fight song and planning to "Dot the I" with the OSU marching band, something that her conscious mind would never have done.

The focus of her imagination, though, was her people.  The people in her circle, the folks she loved and visited and made quilts for - her "Rain Forest".  Carol told a story over and over about how a doctor at The James Hospital commented on how large the men in her family were, after seeing several standing outside her hospital room.  He said, "Those aren't men, those are trees, they're so big!"  That got her started on naming everyone in her "Rain Forest".  

"Come on, be in my Rain Forest!" she wrote.

"No Willow, no Sadness 

No Palm 

No Rats Allowed 

If you like, just giggle with us 

If you like, plant a tree"

Then she proceeded to name every person she knew and matched them with their "Tree Name", she called it.  She had great fun with this and wrote rafts of notes on the topic, and asked everyone around her, "What kind of tree do you want to be?"

Her great-grandson, Tristan, was a "Twismas Twee" which she always spoke with a giggle.  His twin brother Nathan was a "Nutmeg Tree", because they were born near Christmas.  David is a Redwood, Charlie a Sycamore, Chris a Sassafras, and me "The Moon Tree" - the really tall one on County Line that we climbed as kids.

Because these people were so precious to her, Chris and I suggested she make a visual chart of her Rain Forest.  Her personality at that time was so energetic and so powerful, you found yourself carried away by it, even if it was a little silly.  It was precious and precocious, a little child-like, and harmless, so we went with it.  

Because it is precious, I took the time to transcribe her rain forest, over several weeks, and I’ll make it available on the Blog.

I'm explaining all of this because I think it shows us the essence of Carol, of her caring for people, her concern for the lives and well-being of the people around her, and how her caring really knew no limits.  It extended to every last person she knew.

Are all of us as indiscriminate with our love?  Do we blanket so many people with our quilts?

I can feel myself growing bigger through this experience, shouldering the burden of loss, becoming ready to carry on the legacy:  Carol’s legacy.  She and Dad stepped up to follow their parents, the greatest generation, to carry their torch forward, to live their values, to be the good guys in the world.  Now it becomes more our duty since Carol won’t be here to do it.  The world needs her values and her goodness and generosity.   So let’s remember to pay it forward.  It matters what we do and how we behave with other people.   The crowd here today is a testament to that idea, that it matters, that Carol touched people’s lives in ways that mattered to them.

We all have gifts for others.  They may not be quilts, like Carol's, but we all have gifts for others.  Are we as generous with our gifts as she was?  

Shouldn't we be?

I think there's a lesson in her last days for us, now.  If I had swelling and tumors in my brain, and all inhibition removed, what would come out of me?  

Would it be a beautiful rain forest full of all of my loved ones?  Would it be random computer program code?  Bits of books I’ve read?  Knitted garments I wished I had made for family and friends?  Or bitterness for all of those who hurt me?  Would it be ugly and mean?  Would my brain, exposed, be as lovely as Carol's?

Would yours?

We are here today to honor Carol, to honor Carol's remarkable and hugely intelligent brain, and to honor her character.  She did not always have a joyous life.  She had a mother who didn't want her and let her know it.  But in spite of that rough childhood, her difficult baby deliveries, her health problems, and the setbacks she had with her auto accidents, head injuries and broken back, her character remained true and good.  She had faults, as we all do, but they were of the minor kind.  Her essence remained earnest and seeking to continue to find good in those around her, and to express the good in herself.

If I have an over-riding feeling of her during childhood, this is it: that she poured her goodness into me at every opportunity, and tried to withhold her meanness and faults.  Like all of us, she didn't always succeed - I distinctly remember a backhand full of dishwater when I stuck my tongue out at her once - but the point is she stayed gold.

And now, as Pastor Wentworth prayed, "Help us to remember that you are with her, Jesus, and that she has been your faithful disciple."

I'm still having a hard time letting her go, giving up that sense of her as "My Mother".  But she truly is Carol, and she belongs to God.  She never did belong to us. She was only on loan.  And what a wonderful life with her it has been.

Carol’s last words were to her daughter, Chris.  When Chris told her goodnight and said “I love you, Mom,” Mother answered back, “I love you, too.”  Chris said, “Sleep with Angels!”, and she said, “I will!”

Sleep with Angels, Carol.

Surprised, on the other side of this

I'm finding myself on the other side of this tragedy, and finding myself surprised to be here.  It seemed endless, these last five months, like a nightmare that would not end.  Now, I'm suddenly on the other side, and I don't know what to make of it.

We are all feeling a great sense of relief and release, that Mom is now resting and that her anguish, and ours on her behalf, is over.

But what now?  The missing her will begin to be more painful, I imagine.

For now, though, we are enjoying hearing about our Mother from other peoples' perspectives.  One of her high school friends told me, "Oh, I just remember her so much.  When I moved into the area in seventh grade, your Mom was my best friend in school that year."  Another man who had a son on Dave's baseball team, which Dad coached and Mom kept score for, got me crying yesterday, saying, "Your parents were just the best examples you could imagine for those boys.  She was always there, at every game, cheering them on.  When I think of your Mother, I think she just embodies the word 'love'."

There were a lot of people at both viewings today.  We're tired now, back at Dad's (Drew, Jess, Chris and I), and the humor is degenerating as we get sillier from fatigue.  Headed to a bath and bed now.

Mother's Funeral Arrangements

Calling Hours at Thorn-Black Funeral Home in Cambridge, OH
Tuesday, December 27th at 2 - 4 PM and 7 - 9 PM


Funeral Service also at Thorn-Black 
Wednesday, December 28th at 11:00 AM


Followed by a graveside service and luncheon at Old Washington Presbyterian Church

Do not stand at my grave and weep

 A Hopi Prayer

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet white doves in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there, I did not die. 

by Mary E. Frye 

"Honey, your Mother is gone, now."

Those were Dad's words to me as I drove in to Autumn this evening, returning after visiting with Drew and Jess for a while at Dad's.  Mother passed at about 6:30 this evening.

The plan had been for Drew and Jess, Charlie, Susan and Sadie to come to Dad's for breakfast this morning.  That was my small attempt at having some Christmas this year.  Then, I felt so rotten and jet-lagged, I didn't even get out to get the groceries for it and had to call and ask Drew to get them.  After the plans were changed, Drew and Jess came anyway and had breakfast and slept a while.  Jess had worked all night and Drew is always sleep-deprived, he works so much.  And he already knew he didn't want to see Grandma as she had been recently.

Charlie and Susan met us at Autumn, and Uncle Ted, Cheryl, Ted's son Scott and his girlfriend visited there, and then Dad, Susan and Charlie took a lunch break while I waited at Autumn.  When they returned, I headed back to Dad's for a Christmas visit with Drew and Jess for a while.  We had a nice visit, chatted a lot and caught up, exchanged our gifts, and played with Benji.  After they left, I started back to Autumn.  Susan had contacted me because they wanted to leave so they could have some time and dinner with their kids, but wanted someone to be with Dad.

Dad walked Susan and Charlie out, then came back and found Mother completely still.  He turned the lights on to be sure, then went and got the nurses and they confirmed, Mother had passed, just that quickly.  He called Charlie and me right away.  I called Chris, she called David.  And then the chain grew to other family.  Dad decided he should drive me back because I was pretty upset.  I was, but it was mostly relief.  I did weep over her, briefly, crying, unexpectedly even to me, "Oh, thank God, Mother!"  She looked peaceful, finally.  Dad and I stopped at two neighbors on the way home and we've made several more calls this evening.

We don't know yet when the funeral will be.  We'll be meeting with the funeral home, Thorn and Black in Cambridge, tomorrow, and with the Pastor.

That's all the logistics of what happened.

I realize I'm pretty much leaving out the emotional part, but I'm feeling strangely not as bad as I thought I would.  It has been such a long haul, and so painful for Dad and Chris, especially, recently.  Today, as we chatted at Autumn, we felt pretty lucky that she had actually been herself, almost completely, until a week or so ago.  Considering that it was stage 4 glioblastoma, and so many tumors, and such a large one that they removed surgically, that's pretty remarkable.  And we realized that ending with "only" a week of the gut-wrenching agonizing pathetic pitiful state of being she has been in was not as bad as it could have been, either, although the weeks leading up to this last one have been no picnic.  She was not in pain, even at the end, just struggling hard to breathe, but not aware of it, really.  There was absolutely no expression of anything, least of all struggle, on her face.  It was more like she was absent while her body still struggled to finish.

We're going to miss her every minute of every day.  I already do.  I've been walking around for weeks thinking, "My Mother will never do this again.  Mother will never smell a flower again, never have a meal at a restaurant again." And so on.  The grieving has seemed endless.  I found when I visited Joann Fabrics that it was like she was right there at my elbow, commenting, talking to me.  It will always be that way.  We will all carry her with us.

I love that she died on Christmas Day.  Dad kept saying how nice that was, that she would surely have a first-class ticket to heaven.  There's something that just feels right about the way it all ended for her, with loyal and loving family around, with Christmas lights and Christmas songs and Christmas cheer all through the building at Autumn.  Here, unlike in other parts of the country, folks are un-apologetically Christian and celebrating Christmas.  What a great place to come home to at Christmas.  What a great time for her to go home to heaven.

Called to Autumn this Morning

Autumn called Dad's house this morning at 6:30. Mother was worse. So he dressed and went in right away. I followed after showering and walking Benji.

Mother's heart rate was high and her pulse oxygen low. It has gotten lower even now and they can't get a reading at all. Her fingers are growing dusky.

Dad, Charlie, Susan and I have been waiting, mostly in the hall. There have been no tears, more just a sense of relief that her journey is coming to an end. She is not suffering. She does not seem to be present at all, to me. Her body is just doing its last.

Charlie said, "It would really be something if she passes today, on Christmas, you know."

"Yes poetic," I replied.


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Crying, Grieving, Napping: Calmer Now

I slept until 11 this morning.  Chris was already gone home, Dad already back from milking.  He has decided to try to pick up parts of his life again.  Physical work is critical to his well-being and he needs the distraction of normal things.  So he is working a few hours at the milking parlor again now.


Dad headed to Autumn, and I had a few errands to run in town, then went to Autumn.  I really had to make myself get moving, get showered, try to put on a smile.  At Autumn, Dad was already gone and I was trying to be resolved, to be strong and pour out good energy for Mother, and all I could do when I got in that room was cry and grieve, it's just so awful.  After a while, though, I calmed and rested and even napped a bit in the easy chair holding her hand, with Benji asleep on my lap.  When I woke, I was easier in my mind and more able to be there comfortably and minister the little things I could do: massage and lotion her hands, arms, feet and legs, clean her mouth a bit, apply lip balm, stroke her and tell her how much I love her. 


But it all seems so little to do for her.  I had no response from Mom whatsoever, and neither did the nurse when she was there.  Her limbs are limp and warm, her hands so much softer now than they usually were from all the work she did and the needle pricks from quilting.  The muscle tone in her hands is all gone, and her shin-bones are prominent.  Her muscle tone in her legs and arms is all gone, as well.  She's just fading away.  Her breathing is pretty strong, though, and the nurses said all of her vitals are normal.  They've now told us (of course, after I booked the flight home), that Mother could go weeks like this before passing away, or she could go quickly with a seizure.


A glimpse of Mom's room, now:

Cards from lots of folks

 Christmas tree from Charlie, artwork from Chris, a Salvation Army flier, artist Tom DuBois

 Christmas Wall Hanging Mother Made

 Everyone at Autumn has a stocking like this

 Mother's embroidery, "Yeah, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death..."

Still up from November.  Should be 108th - Mother joked that's how long they'd each been married, all added up.

"Sleep with Angels"

I'm home safe and sound, with Benji, who did great on the trip.  That's a long trip.  We started at 4 AM yesterday, took a taxi to the Burbank airport which was a joy compared to LAX.  Then, an hour from Burbank to Las Vegas.  Benji could not understand why we didn't get off the plane when it stopped, but the attendant was nice and let him have his head out of the case to stretch.  Then four and a half hours from Las Vegas to Columbus, where Chris was waiting to take us to Cambridge, another two hours with the Columbus traffic.  I'd not eaten since breakfast, but Chris had a smoothie and nuts waiting.  And we stopped at The Forum in Cambridge for dinner, then went to Autumn.

Charlie and Susan were there, but Dad had just left.  Mother lays in her low bed completely still except for her breathing, which is erratic.  Her swelling seemed less than when I saw her on Skype, but that happens with no liquid intake.  I held her hand and kissed and stroked her, but got no response I could be sure of.  Her eyelids flickered a little and I thought her limp hand moved once, but I couldn't be sure.  She had been silent except for once yesterday morning.  When Nurse Jessica asked how she was doing, she said, "Not too good."

We visited with Charlie and Susan a little bit, in the hallway, then said goodbye.

When Chris went in she said, "Good night, Mom. I love you." and to her surprise Mom replied, "I love you too."  Chris said, "Sleep with Angels," and Mom said, "I will."

Homebound Itinerary

Southwest Airlines

DEPART DEC 22	7:10 AM Burbank,  CA (BUR) to Stops in Las Vegas, NV 3:40 PM Columbus,  OH (CMH)	Flight #612	Thursday, December 22, 2011 Travel Time 5 h 30 m (1 stop, no plane change)

RETURN JAN 2	11:55 AM Columbus,  OH (CMH) to Stops in Chicago, IL 2:50 PM Arrive in Las Vegas,  NV (LAS)	Flight #408	Monday, January 2, 2012 Travel Time 7 h 55 m (2 stops, includes 1 plane change)
	3:45 PM Change  in Las Vegas,  NV (LAS) 4:50 PM Burbank,  CA (BUR)	Flight #1

White Dog, Black Clothes

Well, the decision has been made. I am packing to go home to Ohio instead of Tucson tomorrow. Crazy Benji always curls up on my clothes when I lay them out. White dog, black clothes.



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Song of the Day: Breath of Heaven

Amy Grant sings a Christmas song, Breath of Heaven, that came to mind today.  It's about Mary and her fears before the birth, but the chorus is for Mom, for us, for our family, now:

...I am waiting

in a silent prayer

I am frightened

by the load I bear

In a world as cold as stone

Must I walk this path alone?

Be with me now

Be with me now

Breath of Heaven

Hold me together

Be forever near me

Breath of Heaven

Breath of Heaven

Lighten my darkness

Pour over me, your holiness

For you are holy 

Breath of Heaven

Do you wonder

As you watch my face

If a wiser one, should have had my place?

But I offer all I am

For the mercy of your plan

Help me be strong

Help me be

Help me

Breath of Heaven

Hold me together

Be forever near me

Breath of Heaven

Breath of Heaven

Lighten my darkness

Pour over me your holiness

For you are holy

Breath of Heaven

Hold me together

Be forever near me

Breath of Heaven

Breath of Heaven

Lighten my Darkness

Pour over me your Holiness

For you are Holy

Breath of Heaven

Breath of Heaven

Breath of Heaven

You Don't Need Wings to Be and Angel - Thanks and Praise for the Staff at Autumn Healthcare

Chris and Dad have been talking about wanting to express their thanks to the staff at Autumn Healthcare.  Dad said that as soon as he got any money ahead, he would want to give them restaurant gift certificates or something.  But today when they checked about doing that, they found out that the Autumn staff are not allowed to accept any sort of gifts from us.

Still, Chris was going to get a treat basket of some sort together, and she composed this note to go with it:

To all the staff at Autumn Care Center, the Carol Miller family would like to wish you all a very Merry Christmas.  You are all providing 'Peace on Earth and Good Will Towards Men'.  May the Lord bless each and every one of you for the smiles and caring you provide to so many.  We cannot adequately express how much your caring has meant to our mother, Carol, and all of us.  You are the Angels among us and we thank you very sincerely,  

The Millers

Clammy But Happy

This morning I had no vertigo!  So got out and walked Ben and got all ready for work, then started feeling clammy again, so took my temperature and I'm still running a low-grade fever.  So I called my boss and explained and told him I thought I'd better keep my germs at home.  He was great and glad to know it's a bug.

Ryan, my co-worker from Symphony, walked Benji last evening for me because I was still loopy, and Benji gave him a hard time on the leash for the entire first half of the walk.  Then, when it was just as close to come back to me by going forward as it was going backward, he behaved and went forward as usual.  He's a Mommy's boy and he knows I've been unwell.  Ryan enjoys him and said when the weather gets a little warmer he'd like to come get him for long walks.  I said Benji would love that and he said, "Well, besides, he'd be useful, sort of...."  And I exclaimed, "As a chick-magnet?  Oh, I see!"  We laughed about that.  That's fine, Benji enjoys being a people magnet.  Ryan is young and handsome and single and recently moved hotels to be up on the Hollywood strip right by the Kodak Theater where the Academy Awards are held, and Grauman's Chinese Theater.  So he's closer to me and Benji now.  I thought he may want to use our nice pool, but he has his own rooftop pool at the hotel.

This morning I got to Skype with Chris, Dad, Charlie and Mom!  She was responding with hand pressure and eye blinks when they talked to her, so Chris got me online and I was able to say a few words to her.  Chris had brought in the Christmas wall hanging Mother had made with the animals all around the Christmas tree and it's hanging above her bed.  And the people from their church sent a beautiful flower arrangement.  She has lots of cards and letters from friends and family displayed there, too.  It did me good to be able to assure her that I'm out here in California thinking of her there.  Chris has been playing a CD of hymns on piano and I told her that I play for her always in my imagination.  She responded with eye blinks.  It did me a world of good to see and talk to them.  I felt less far away and alone.

Still Out Of Commission

I had vertigo again this morning so have been home from work again. I think it's a bug though because I seem to be running a low grade fever. The vertigo has not been as bad as yesterday but is lasting longer into the day. I've asked my friend Ryan from work to come walk Benji and he is glad to help out.

Mother continues to be worse. She has not been conscious for many hours now and can no longer take liquids. They have begun oxygen as comfort care. Chris was there all day but sent Dad home after a while because he was too emotionally distraught. They had dinner with Charlie and Susan and were back at Autumn but heading home for some rest.

Here is a great pic I snapped on the couch today. I took pillows and comforter there because the view off the balcony is nicer there, looking out to the side of a green ravine. It was a pretty day here but we missed it. Still my faithful companion has been very patient. He watched me curiously lurch around this morning so I think he understands I am not up to par.

This is one of those big-eyed Beanie babies. He asked me very nicely for it at the Tucson airport. We had seen them there before and I said no, but this time he just asked so nice and looked so longingly that I gave in.

Seriously, he looked at them and at me and said, "Mom I really still do like those guys and I'll be good with it. I promise I won't destroy him or destuff him or anything. So please can't I have just one????? Hmmmmmmmm???"

He did already chew the nose off though.




and another


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Still Doing Well Here

From Texts to Chris:


i am still better but a little nauseous. took ben out and drove to post office to drop checks for the taos workers and to dog park and did fine. it seems to have passed for now.


chris i received your gift and i am absolutely stunned!! i literally gasped when i opened the necklace you made. its exquisite and youre right its exactly the right thing for me here and now and it looks beautiful with my skin. i am supposed to audition tomorrow and have a new black jersey top with open neck and lots of gathers on it, shirred to one side over the breast. this set will be amazing with it. i think i will wear one of the sets of earrings with it you already made like the one with a low dropping crystal.

benji smelled it and knew it came from you. i think he knows somethings bad with mom when u and i are in phone like today. he totally understands things


its the best ever i think. i love it!


Here are photos of the wonderful handiwork of Chris that I received this evening. The photos don't do them justice.


Also today I received news that my flooring is completed at Taos Place.


It's so odd that on some levels life goes on, while on other levels one is utterly destroyed.  Chris and I can alternate between talking about our dying Mother and this beautiful jewelry.  I guess it says something about our resilience as human beings, or maybe it's our denial and disbelief.  


Sometimes lately I think I'm moving from shock and disbelief to acceptance and resignation.  I've noticed before while grieving how totally human we remain even in our saddest moments.  People eat a lot after funerals, and move their bodies and talk like life is normal.  All at the same time life has become anything but normal.  How do we do it?  How do we keep going on, when part of us wants to scream and collapse?  There's something in us that presses us forward, some basic brain signals that move us, that enable us to keep talking and walking, all the while wondering just how that's possible when such a large part of our lives has gone forever.  How do we do it?

Everyone Resting Now

Dad and Chris went back to the farm to rest.  Chris hadn't eaten and had headache and they both needed a break.  They prayed again with the Pastor and Chris said Mom's eyelids moved like she knew they were there.  That's as much response as they are getting now.  They were planning on going back later in the night if they could.  They left Mom resting peacefully.

Better Now

I am better than this morning.  Still feeling a little off, but I've been up and around without vertigo, and was able to eat a bit.  Slept about three hours on the couch with my faithful companion.  The worst was not being able to take him out.  I finally grabbed a tall umbrella for support and went downstairs to our complex dog park in my jammies and clogs.  I found I was not the only one in very casual attire and messed up hair.

I've been looking online at causes of vertigo, but nothing seems clear.  I'm hoping it's a bug and it will go within a day or so.

I have been texting with Chris today because she went back down to be with Dad and Mom.  They feel Mother's road to heaven is short now.  The Pastor was there praying with them, but Mother didn't know it.  Charlie took Dad to eat and have a break because he had not eaten all day.  Chris, of course, is overwrought.  I keep reminding her what good she is doing there.  I hope that helps her a bit.  There's so little I can do here except be a sounding board for those dealing with the most ugly details of the destruction of my Mother.

Almost Christmas!

Things are looking a bit dim here today. Yes it's almost Christmas. Most of my shopping and shipping is done but as usual I had hoped to do more. And plan to do more for my Tucson folk Friday. But myohmy am I sick today.

I noticed some vertigo when I got up in the night. So reminded myself to take it slow getting up in the morning. Good thing I did. Every time I stand or sit or shift position the world starts rolling crazily and I get nauseous and clammy. Yuck! So I have decided to stay down!

I used a tall umbrella for balance to get downstairs long enough to let Benji pee. But he's all whiny wanting his walk and worried about me.

And Mother's decline is very painful to watch. Praise the Lord she is not in pain, though! Her confusion is greater. She makes little sense when she talks now and doesn't often talk. She is still eating but chokes a lot. Chris said she saw a definite decline from Wednesday to yesterday and the nurses are noting it as well.

Benji just came over and climbed up on me here on the couch and whimpered over me then cuddled up. So maybe the song of the day is, "I'd do anything for you, dear, anything, for you dear, anything for you!" from Oliver I think it was. You may not have known this, but I pretty much have songs in my head most of the time.

So there you are. True confessions.

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Results of Lab Tests - and My Legs

All normal except one liver enzyme test slightly high.  We've seen that before and my PCP monitors it.  I have my MRI last Monday.  I can't get into the doctor to review the results until January 9th, though.

In the meantime, my legs are still very painful.  I had a few days this week when I thought they were getting better, but the last two have been bad again.  They get so bad I can't walk fast at all, I'm walking very stiffly, and literally am struggling to make it across the street before the lights change.

So I'll be eager to hear what the rheumatologist here says on the 9th and what the next steps will be toward tracking this down.  Both the rheumatologist and my chiropractors say it seems like a vascular problem because it stops hurting when I stop moving.  We shall see.

Today's Song: "Benji's Song"

This is one I made up for Benji.  We sing it when dog walking or bathing.

He's my little angel, angel, angel.
He's my little angel Butterfly Dog.
He always gives me kisses.
He always wants to play.
He always loves me best of all
'Cause I'm the Mom, "Hurray!"

Over the Rainbow, Song of the Day

I woke up singing Over the Rainbow, for some reason.  As much as I talk about being blue, there's something in me still optimistic, I guess - like my Mother.

Best done by Eva Cassidy and Linda Eder, IMHO.  Other than the obvious, Judy Garland.

Over The Rainbow
Songwriters: Arlen, Harold; Harburg, E.Y.;


Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high
There's a land that I heard of, once in a lullaby
Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue
And the dreams that you dare to dream, really do come true

Someday I'll wish upon a star
And wake up where the clouds are far behind me
Where troubles melt like lemon drops away above the chimney tops
That's where you'll find me

Somewhere over the rainbow, bluebirds fly
Birds fly over the rainbow, why then, oh why can't I?

If happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow
Why, oh why can't I?

A Cheery Pair, We Are

Text this morning from Chris: Becky I thought Mom appeared much more swollen Sunday. She is swollen in her face, neck and hands. She hardly looks like Mom. Dad has noticed it too. She eats fine, chewing OK. We are just both sensing a decline.

Later I received email from Chris, "Becky the tears are just a rolling this Monday AM again. As I drove out of Dad's drive yesterday I was struck by how too-large the place seems now with just Dad there. It hit me that I will probably never see our Mother there again, and she is everywhere on that hill. I walked by her hollyhocks walking Sam and was admiring their pine grove she has tended to faithfully. This really sucks and I need love and hugs so bad. Jen just sent me an I love you from school via text and I told her it couldnt have come at a better time. I just think I somehow keep on my game face while I'm down south with them but either I get tired or just have too much time for reflection when I get home and the sadness overwhelms me. This SUCKS! I'm sorry. I will go walk the dogs and not bring you into my depression cellar."

And in response to some blurbs about Amy and Chaz Miller that I'd found on the Muskingam College website, chatty things about where they are and what they're doing now, Chris wrote, "Chris Richards is working on keeping her sanity and trying to locate the meaning in her life!"

Yes, she and I are a real cheery pair these days.


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Story Pirates

I've been meaning to tell you about something I did weeks ago.  Uncharacteristically, I actually got "out" in the evening.  Usually by the time I work and take care of Benny, it's all I can do.  But my co-worker, Ryan, was going to this "thing" and invited me, and I was feeling up to it, so I went.  The thing turned out to be a combination sketch comedy, stand-up comedy, kids story telling drama event, where adults act out stories written by children.  It's part of a literacy initiative.

It was a riot - I loved it.

Read all about it here, and if you ever get the chance, go to check it out.

http://storypirates.org/

It's on the UCLA campus.  We had dinner at a vegan restaurant afterwards, then went to the "must go" place for dessert, Diddy Reese's.

Grieving in My Sleep

I keep waking at 4:00 AM crying, having had some dream about Mom.  Even though I don't do a lot of crying every day, it's catching up with me in my sleep. 

One dream took place at our old house on County Line, and for some inexplicable reason, water was rushing in from under the base boards, to about 4 inches, very rapidly, while I was hollering for help.  Mom and Dad came in and said, "No problem, we'll take care of it.  Not a big deal."  Next flash I remember in my dream was the kitchen all dry and them saying they had put the water away in the cupboard.  When I opened the cupboard, which was now my linen closet on Taos Place, I found all the water put away, stacked in shallow pans, like cake pans and shallow Tupperwares, with paper towels draped over them.  Odd.  Says a lot about my sense of impending doom.  Not sure what it says about their solution!  Probably that it's inexplicable, like God and the way he has set up this crazy world.

Benji has become suddenly more loving.  Maybe he hears me crying.  Thursday evening after we were settled at Taos Place watching TV at the end of the evening, he very deliberately climbed onto my lap, put a paw on each shoulder, looked me in the eye, and started licking my face and neck.  That is unusual.  He's a licker/kisser, but usually on the hand or arm on the fly-by.  This was new, and it has continued.  Either he's being sympathetic, or he's especially happy with me because I've been getting him to the dog park more frequently in the last week.  Or he just felt loving.

I'm just a Modern Day...

My co-consultant, Ryan, said a friend was questioning him about his living arrangements.

"So you just stay wherever the work is? Go wherever the job takes you? Don't even really need to have a home base?"

"Yep,"

"Well, you're nothing but a modern day hobo!"


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Benny's Report Card

Bemny got in trouble in daycare today for humping and head-butting. imagime that!! but otherwise had a great time playing with his best friend Buster. I get a report card.

On the way to LAX for Tucson now. Flooring project in progress there - yippee!!

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Location:West Hollywood

Me in LA - Trying to Look Stylish

It's soooo all about fashion here.  I've been dragging out every decent scarf I own and layering up to keep warm.  The scarf here and the earrings are from my lovely sister Chris.

My rental car is a Hyundai Santa Fe, not because I wanted that, but because they wanted to give me something I could keep for six months.  Must not get a lot of requests for that.

A Question Too Big for Santa Claus

While walking Benji last week on Sunset Boulevard, I was accosted by elves.  They’ve been around the city at the sites of huge billboards promoting the upcoming movie, “Arthur Christmas (Wrap Star)”.  It looks like it could be a fun movie.  The elves were dressed the like the characters on the billboard, with military-style jump suits on, and rolls of wrapping paper crossed on their backs, stocking caps, pointed ears.  They were having fun being silly and drawing attention to themselves, up on the walkway below the billboard, asking for toys for their charity toy drive.  As I walked past below with Benji at 6:15 AM (I believe they have long hours, those elves), one of them yelled down in an exaggerated British accent, “’Ello there!  Have a 'appy Christmas, there, young miss!  And what would you like Santa to bring you?” I stared up, opened my mouth to say something, and found myself speechless.  I had no words for him.  It was a question too big for Santa.  I had no ready answer.  I finally blurted something like, “I haven’t the faintest idea” and moved on, I think.

But as I walked, I pondered the question.  What would it be?  Oh yes, I had my eye on some new knitting needles that I don’t absolutely need, but would like playing with.  A nifty set of circulars with inter-changeable tips.  I had thought about treating myself to them.   But that seemed like the most superficial of questions to ask myself and do at this time.  

What would I want if I could have anything at all in the world?

I’d want an end to my Mother’s suffering, very soon.  And that’s a request way too big for Santa Claus.

Trouble Walking

You know I have mentioned having trouble with the big hills in West Hollywood. It really goes beyond that and has been going on for 15 years or so. I remember struggling to keep up in downtown Columbus when I worked for Huntington. It has gotten really bad again here lately, even just walking a flat block between my parking lot and office building.

So I decided to take advantage of all this world class healthcare around here and get a work-up. I knew if I went to a rheumatologist here as a new patient that I'd probably get a good bunch of tests. That is what happened. I am just returning from that appointment (by Cedars shuttle bus) now.

Blood drawn, MRI to come.


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Song Lyrics of the Day:

I was thinkimg of this song and played it over the weekend. I can pretend my good thoughts go with Mom in her misery.

The Blessing

In the morning when you rise
I bless the sun, I bless the skies
I bless your lips, I bless your eyes
My blessing goes with you

In the nighttime when you sleep
Oh I bless you while a watch I keep
As you lie in slumber deep
My blessing goes with you

This is my prayer for you
There for you, ever true
Each, every day for you
In everything you do

And when you come to me
And hold me close to you
I bless you
And you bless me, too

When your weary heart is tired
If the world would leave you uninspired
When nothing more of love's desired
My blessing goes with you

When the storms of life are strong
When you're wounded, when you don't belong
When you no longer hear my song
My blessing goes with you

This is my prayer for you
There for you, ever true
Each, every day for you
In everything you do

And when you come to me
And hold me close to you
I bless you
And you bless me, too

I bless you
And you bless me, too


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