March 23

megrandroobly.jpgI am just all over the place today. I am writing and re-writing. I can’t say what I want to say. I’m not even sure what I want to say. And my host service keeps losing my posts. It’s okay, I’m saving copies off-line as I write. I’m getting all too used to this. Alas, I had a rather slow start today. It began with what are rather typical nightmares for me, distorted shorelines and dashed dreams. It is Easter but it is also March 23. Two years ago today, March 23 fell on a Thursday and I was driving up the I75 SUV Speedway to Siberia for the second time that week. I knew that Grandroobly was dying and I got the confirming call just north of West Branch.

I am not all that sad about my dad’s death. I was there through the surgeries and the ICU and all of that at the Henry Ford Hoosegow and I was there during his first week at Tendercare watching him and wondering if he had the will to win the struggle to regain his mobility. And I was there the last few days at War Memorial in a room littered with cans of Ensure. At various times throughout the whole ordeal, medical professionals would discuss his mental state. Did he have Alzheimer’s or some other form of dementia? I dunno. Yes, there were times when he was confused. He had moments of confusion in the years before he fell, too. He was almost 87 years old, fer Kee-reist. On Black Tuesday, two days before he died, The Commander and I consulted with Doc Rob and the surgeon and finalized the decision to continue with comfort care only. No feeding tubes or other invasive procedures. That afternoon he told The Commander (for the umpteenth time) that he was just going to get his jacket and then they could go home. She replied (for the umpteenth time) that he couldn’t get up because he couldn’t walk. He barely had the strength to talk by that time but he gathered everything he had and quite indignantly proclaimed, “Well you just go and do whatever you need to do and I’ll *walk* home!” Not that day. On the other hand, he recognized my beach urchins and was able to tell them he loved them and kiss them one last time. End of life.

Ramble ramble. We have never observed Easter in a religious way but, when the beach urchins were little, the Easter bunny always paid a visit so, on the other end of the spectrum, I’m remembering little beach urchins excitedly hunt for eggs and rip new stuffed aminals out of packages and overdose on Easter candy. I didn’t buy *any* Easter candy this year. By the time I even thought about it, I figured it would be too late and the Westgate Kroger would probably be pulling all the Easter candy off the shelves to make way for the next holiday. What *is* next? Memorial Day, maybe? Chocolate wreaths anyone?

We’re having Thanksgiving today. Mouse was MIA for the winter holidays this year, so I’m doing turkey to make up for it. Not that she wasn’t well taken care of in Senegal. She had a blast over there. I’m doing this for *me* as much as anyone. I’m fine with the concept that my beach urchins aren’t home for every single holiday. It means that they are successfully grown up and living their own lives. Bloom where you are planted, et al. But I do miss the old days with the colored eggs and the candy and the stuffed aminals and the Easter baskets.

Me? Heck. I shook off the dream and buried it like I do with all of them. Blasted through the wall to consciousness. A shower and a pre-dawn walk in the snow. And more snow this afternoon, maybe. To think that just a few years ago, we kayaked on Easter morning and it was 80-something degrees and I got sunburned.

Yeah, that’s me and the old pilot over there in the cabin back yard. I haven’t got the faintest idea what he’s doing. I better call The Commander because it’s been almost two weeks and I’m sure she’ll greet me with, “Where the hell’ve’ya been?” 😉 And THE LANDFILL TAXES ARE DONE!!! YAY!!!!!

Happy Easter, y’all! Love, Kayak Woman

2 Responses to “March 23”

  1. Sam Says:

    Thinking of you specially today (think of you most days, actually), and remembering in the dim dark past one time when I partook of a turkey dinner with all the trimmings (e.g., mashed ’taters, pumpkin pie, cranberries, gravy), and we sat down at 4 am. Night-shift behavior will do that to ya….

  2. Webmomster Says:

    …I owe The Commander a call, too…..