tears from heaven...

I found a blog earlier this month, by a daily perusal of Etsy...this Designer had noted her blog on her Profile..and I found a strange pull to read it. After it downloaded I felt a strange sense of familiarity...maybe it was the photo's she had posted..the sea in the background..a funny photo of a old Golden Retriever, a breed that has always held my heart. I reside with one myself..Chauncey..a wild two year old Golden , who thinks it's absolutely acceptable to wake me at three thirty in the morning! He'll approach my bed, put his paw on the side and start "talking" to me in his hysterical moaning (that's the only way to describe the noises he makes!).

She's an extremely talented writer, and Designer too, I might add..as that IS what drew me to the blog to begin with..then my eye's landed upon what I thought might be the answer. She lives in Nova Scotia..the land of my father's birth. Now, even as I write, tear's form in my eyes...it's been 24 years since my fathers death..you'd think it would be easier now..but it's not.. I was but a 24 year old girl at the time..and not ready to give up my Daddy. I had just "finally" gotten to KNOW who he was..what he was about..through my driving him to his weekly Radiology treatments..or his Chemotherapy Infusions..yes back then they had to sit there...for hours while the Toxic CRAP was flushed through there poor bodies..and the Radiation..oh lord..it burned the poor man! But all through it, he stood as strong as he could..but in the end, he knew that is was all for naught..I honestly think he was doing it for my Mother. Not that she deserved something like that..she had haunted the poor man for the 36 years of the 57 years he had on this earth! She had taunted him, I'm sure , from the moment she knew she was pregnant. She had snagged him! And he paid his dues, too! But as usual, I digress...

My father was , I guess you could call it , a "Functioning Alcoholic"...I think , sometimes that my siblings are angry with him. Angry for not "taking us away" or rescuing us from a horrid childhood. And it was..Horrid! She had made sure that each one of us was embarrassed beyond recognition, in some way..throughout each of our five childhoods. I recall one day, sitting on the front steps, after she had accused him once again, of being unfaithful. I giggled to myself..even at 12 years of age, I knew the man never had the time to be unfaithful to her...she had him running at her beck and call.

She had made certain that her siblings would "think" that she had it all..a big house in the suburbs, a motorhome, nice clothes...we were just accessories to her. Bothersome too! And too damn many of us!! She had grown up with 12 sibings, and had absolutely nothing, to hear her tell it..and I'm sure it was a sparse life. But my Father couldn't afford the homes we lived in...but he did it..somehow...she had her "Jake's" card..to shop in Birmingham...she had about as much "right" to shop in Birmingham as taking a Bull
to tea in a China Shop!

It was ALL about keeping appearances to her..and he undoubtedly went to his Mother, asking for help, to keep the woman quiet. It wasn't until I was in my forties that I found out that it had been my Grandmother who had been paying the piper...The woman had worked till she was 89 years of age!!! I was always amazed at her tenacity..little did I know it was because she had a daughter in law who couldn't live within her means...and she treated the old woman like a milkmaid!!

It was the last Christmas my Father had, my Mother was really feeling her 'oats" that night...my Grandmother, knowing her only child was going to leave this earth well before herself, had come to spend his last Christmas with him. Of course, this irritated Mommy Dearest...and she tossed the old woman out of the house!! My Grandmother had to call her nephew to come and pick her up because her Daughter in law had had a wee bit too much and wanted her out of the house. Later, when I had found out what had happened..I couldn't look at her without spite , wanting to tell her exactly what everyone else wanted to tell her..but my father was in his bed..dying. At that point, he was tethered to an oxygen machine, next to his bed. He had a twenty foot lead to it..so he had just enough length to get to the restroom , but not quite enough to the kitchen. It truly is awful to watch your own parent tethered to a life saving device like that, and still be able to speak and open their eyes. In the end, he had not a bit of Cancer in him...he suffocated to death from a Fungus that had formed in his lung from the Radiation poisoning. Looking back...with my own personal experience of watching my Father endure this..I would have stopped him. I would have stopped him from burning himself so horribly...and then ending up poisoned from what was supposed to "cure" him. Ha...cures..that's what they called it back in the early 80's. But, I couldn't. He couldn't even mention the "C" word around my Mother. Poor man..but honestly..I'm somewhat grateful..because that was the cause of him needing to talk to someone..and I feel lucky that it was me he turned to talk about..his life..his wishes..what he wanted to do with his body after he passed on from this life..into the next...and this was the creation of the relationship we had..for three years..that I wouldn't trade for the world! He never told us he loved us when we were young. That would have went against everything my Mother stood for...I nicknamed her the Ice Queen later...I heard the word somewhere, in my adolscent years...maybe out of Dad's mouth when he had alittle too much Canadian Whiskey...lol..

And when he passed, I had been in a Psych class..my younger sister knocked at the door, my Prof looked over at me, knowing already that my Father was very ill and said "It's time". It was time...we drove to the "House"..my Mother sitting on the couch...with a drink in her hand...and my Brother pacing the floor. There was no emotion out of my Mother...not suprising to me...so I tried to "suck it up" and for some reason...I ended up being the "chosen one" to handle the issues at hand. Since Dad had told me everything he wanted..he preferred Cremation over burial...I left shortly after arriving and went home for some well needed rest. The next day, I called the Funeral Home, made an appointment and informed my Mother of what was to be done. She went along for the ride, for the most part..I handled the Obituary writing, the choice of Casket that my Father would be "shown" in..a typical Irish wake would be expected..luckily my Brother had taken my Mother shopping to choose a Suit for my Father to be shown in. The Choosing of a Casket is an unusual thing to go through..I liken it to buying a used car! Mind you , this was the 80's, but they honestly had a light blue metal casket, nicknamed the "Jonathan Livingston Seagull" version..it had a seagull on the inside!! How strange is that !! Designer Coffins and Caskets..step right up!!

That was an experience I wished I would forget soon, but that hasn't happened yet..and I'm thinking that's probably what caused me to tell my Son's.."Please, send me to the Crematorium and call it a day"!!

Scatter me to the winds in a beautiful place..after all...isn't it supposed to be "Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust"?

The oddity I find in writing this..it's been very Cathartic for me, I might add..is that my Mother died two years ago this May...I have no tears for her passing..she lived till she was 81 years old...My older sister and I took extremely good care of her in the end...almost too good...but she was still our Mother. Others would say,"I cannot believe, after ALL she did to you..that you could do all that for her"...and to answer that...I don't either! lol..I guess it's because my Father would have wanted me to...I'm grateful for the three years I had with him..I wouldn't trade those last three years for the world!

I did it for you, Pops...and I remember writing in my journal the day after she died..."look out Pops, she's coming atcha..better get your rollerskates on"