You always hear about going from 0 to 60 as a measure of life suddenly requiring you to get busy. I've just realized I am about to enter a piece of life where I go from 60 to 0. It was disconcerting!
My life of late has been unusually busy with three basic threads twisting around each other to form a tow cable that is, well it feels like 60 mph on a skateboard. The three threads in order of importance are Deb's sister has cancer and Deb is understandable letting the likely death of her 'little' sister affect her own health. Into that has wound moving my 97 year old mother from an assisted living property. The property was best described by my father (before he died there) as "These people will never get their act together". The third thread is selling our house and moving. Moving is simple to write and certainly less important in the scheme of things but equally time consuming and mentally taxing.
Deb is right now down visiting with her sister and dealing with a list I can't even imagine of emotions and problems. For me, the harsh (guy!) reality is she's not here. So too my Mother is not here but more on that in a moment. The house is in a 'coming soon' limbo with the listing going live at weeks end. So my main activity is not messing it up, especially with Deb out of town to clean after me (yeah I know but...)
Now I'm a normal man and hanging out with my mother could be best described as an 'obbligato'. This last year being with mom was the predominate theme in my life. I think I handled it well and tried to walk the line between being helpful to my Mom and not being one of those people who forget they have lives. It was however a black-hole of time commitment that I always felt I was standing just on the edge of being sucked in. I tried to always be polite and listen or offer help to those around my mother both the staff and her fellow residents no matter their mental or physical circumstance. Early on I winced and shook my head as both groups clearly were trying to figure out this nice guy who was 'always' there with Mary - gay not gay?? It was in some ways a good heads up as I watched a couple of resident's children simply forget they were separated at birth from their Mom! With the staff I tried to walk a diplomatic line of recognizing most were just kids doing a job, and all that implied. With the older staff and management I tried to remember that if they wanted my advice on how to run the place they would pay me for it. No pay, thus just a smile and a pleasant comment and a recognition that there were a few screws loose in the lot of 'em. That and an occasional scream into a towel over the stupidity.
I mention my mother's move to stay with my brother Glen because he called today. Mom had arrived safely. All of the kids had pretty much come to the opinion that it could be great for mom or hell for everyone. Honestly moving old people is fraught with risk. Not simply physical but mom's memory is horrible and she had at least settled in to a routine in her assisted living facility. Terribly bored but a routine none the less. When Glen called really it could have been a call that went any ... well good, bad or ugly... He called, they were walking on the beach collecting shells. Tomorrow might be ugly or more of a great final (if long) chapter in my mother's life. Thing is, I realized I was out of a job.
Not a job I wanted but still the skateboard might be slowing down. I wanted to share this little piece of good news with someone. Deb was out of town and dealing with more important things and didn't need me jumping in with a Doug story on Mom. Mom's old 'home' didn't need me wandering the halls sharing this tidbit of gossip. All our neighbors were out for the afternoon .. and that is when it hit me. We are moving. Moving to a city or town where we know no one. Heck we're not even sure where. Making friends is tough. No, not when you're a kid, scouts, sports, school even a job throws you in with people you can share the little triumphs like Mom's day on the beach. String a few of those stories together and listen to a few and suddenly you have a friend. At our age Deb and I are going to have to work at it. Additionally, with the fractured nature of society we have to recognize we are the new kids and not be the idiots who think the new place should bend to us.
Ah, the garden well it's a long story and I have no one to tell it to but the potato onions seem to be alive! Yeah, I'd overwintered in my closet a good supply of ones to plant this spring. Honestly, they felt gone - no weight to speak of. I thought they had simply been desiccated by the house's heat. I thought perhaps one or two might have some life left and put them in shallow trays with compost and a smidge of water. Roots sprouted and lifted the bulbs and green is starting to popping from the tops in a sunny south facing window. No clue how I'll transfer them to an unknown garden or if they'll survive but for now - good.
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