You get what you ask for…

Today started off interesting and has progressively gotten weirder. I’m currently in the process of running my first mask in my very first mold with my first face mask sculpt. I’m sure it will turn out okay, I’m thoroughly hoping that my intricate design yields a positive result…and if not: I’ll make another and another. I can’t wait to start sending them off to family members and the people who have supported my endeavors these past few years. On a different note, I just got off the phone with my personal bank and will probably be closing all my accounts shortly. As it was the only national bank in the area before I moved, it seemed like the best choice but in less than 3 months they have managed to piss me off more times than I can count, since I can’t fix anything in a convenient matter, and “have to go to the branch,” when I go to the branch it will be to close all my accounts. At my new position I’m offered preferred accounts in an employee package that is pretty generous, so I’ll be taking advantage of that. I wanted to wait awhile before switching, but not having access to my debit card is beyond annoying.

This morning started off a little weird as well as the phone call with the bank I just endured. Abbigail and I got up and headed to the park as I have the day off. A good 1.2 mile walk and then a quick hair appointment and I’m home. I’ll give it a day or two to see if maybe it’ll grow on me, but when I tell someone to add blonde highlights to my hair and I end up with auburn streaks….well, I’m not even sure how the hell you make that mistake, but I’ll decide if I want to re-dye it in a couple of days and will stick to doing my own hair from now on. She did a great job cutting my hair, though I said 1.5 inches and she cut more like 3 or 4…it turned out fine and feels a lot healthier.

After getting home I packed up a picnic for Abbigail and I. My roommate works from home and had several back to back conference calls so I thought it would be nice to go sit by our pond for a bit. Abbigail loves it down there. I let her leash out as far as it will stretch so she can lay on the bank watching the ducks, other birds and chipmunks run around. We had our sandwich and I read for a bit. I’ve been struggling through a book since February. I’ll pass it on to my sisters soon. It was the last book Mom read. It’s not a bad book. A Sandra Brown novel, she’s a talented writer and I generally like her stories, I’m choking through this one though. Torn by wanting to know how it ends and sad at what happens inside my head when I do finish it.

Mom and I used to sort of book club novels. She’d read one and pass it to me, I’d read it and then we would talk it over, the parts we liked, the parts we didn’t. How we would have changed various elements. I want to know how the story ends, but then again I don’t. Just for the fact that I will never get to know what Mom thought of it. We ran out of time. Truth be told, somewhere in my head the story is already there. Mom didn’t have the strength or where-with-all to read the last couple chapters, so I read them allowed to her, but I don’t remember them. I remember Mom saying, “that was the best book.” when I finished the last page. But I can’t seem to recall anymore of the conversation. The last few weeks were so vivid at first, but they are finally starting to fade. I needed them to fade. There’s too much hurt and sorrow there.

My boyfriend keeps trying to drag happy memories out of me but every time I try to think of the happy moments in Oregon I come up blank. It’s like I’ve blocked out 65% of my life. I know my older sisters have blocked out most of their childhoods too. We had a decent family, but the bad always seems to outweigh the good. Not that there wasn’t plenty of happiness or good things, we were fortunate in a lot of ways and by far better off then most but the disastrous difficult things were so much more prominent and devastating, likely because when life was good, it was really good.

Last night I had a good cuddle night with my boyfriend. We both ended up with food poisoning from take out Chinese food Saturday and I have a UTI to top it off. Result: we feel like poo…so we cuddled up and had some Campbell’s chicken noodle soup and some grilled cheese sandwiches. The movie pick of the night was “Big Fish,” from the Tim Burton persuasion. One of my personal favorites, I hadn’t watched it in over a year. For such an intricate love story, I forgot what a truly remarkable tale it is and how fantastic the rich stories of an old man can be when they come to life.

What I didn’t bargain for were the sentiments that came out of the movie. For a son to watch his fathers movements in the last few days of his life, kind of struck a chord with me. Aside from worrying about my dad on a day-to-day basis, the idea of watching two people so meant for each other and seeing them try to deal with the obvious loss they are about to sustain reminds me so much of my parents.

Near the end of losing Mom, Dad struggled to hold onto the love of his life. A 45 year romance that was drifting into the breeze and over shadowed by a looming death. Both were severally ill and I wondered myself if I’d be letting go of one parent or two. The last couple weeks Dad couldn’t bear to see Mom as she wasted away. That didn’t stop them talking though, from door ways and through walls my parents would talk, telling the other how much they loved them and to just hold on another day. My Mom was concerned about my Dad and wanted to be able to take care of him as he returned home from the hospital after a 16 days stint and Dad, though having numerous stitches, staples and new medical issues to care for wanted to be by her side. I remember the look my Dad gave me when I told him he wouldn’t be able to share a bed with Mom anymore. They were both too fragile to be jostled by the other. So Dad stayed as close as he could to his dying wife while I ran back and forth between rooms trying to take care of everyone.

Watching “Big Fish ,” stirred a lot of emotions I’ve been trying to ignore. I always thought my parents were crazy getting married when they had just barely met. But. Sometimes love is so apparent, so strong, that it negates being a little crazy. My parents were made for each other. There’s a moment in the movie that the father is near passing and gets in the tub, fully clothed. Not to spoil the movie, but the man believes he is a fish, and spends a lot of time in the water, “so he doesn’t dry out.” His wife, who is the love object of his great tale, gets in the tub with him, fully clothed, but they are on such the same level that it is clear that the two were made to be together, even if a little silly and in their own world sometimes.

I cuddled up with my boyfriend last night, steadily wetting his shirt with the tears streaming down my face as the great love affair we were watching came to an end. I was thinking about Mom and Dad. The heartbreak in my Dad’s voice as it became apparent he could no longer care for the partner he had endured so much with. Good and bad they watched the family grow, loved ones lost, big changes and disasters, weddings and births, skinned knees and first bike rides. They dealt with it all together and I can’t imagine losing that after 45 years of marriage. Four daughters, 8 graduations, 3 weddings, 5 grand children, numerous vacations and life. Somehow in 45 years their life happened. And now its gone. The whole time Mom was passing, after we knew of course that we needed to make arrangements, she kept saying, “I just wanted 5 more.” Five more years of course. She wanted half a century with the man she loved and built a life with. Funny how it’s always the little things. Five more years…that was all she wanted. Of all the things she could have wished for, it was such a simple request.

I feel blessed. I asked for a new scene, a better start; a reason to believe in life, love and happiness again. I got Chicagoland. I couldn’t be luckier if I tried. It’s not often you get what you ask for, though I’ve always found that help is usually there if you ask for it.