My Dad...

I've never been very close to my Dad. I always felt like I was on the outside with him. His mother, my grandmother, never felt the need for my parents to try to have me. She once told me that she never understood why they even had me as my sister was the perfect child and there was no need for another. So I guess I've always felt that just maybe my father harbored those same feelings. Have I ever asked him? No... and I'm sure I should have. I no longer feel that way because I know he doesn't.

My Dad doesn't hug, kiss or even say I love you unless you do or say it first. I've learned to be okay with that because that is just who he is. In the years since my Mom died, Dad has had to learn to be more independent, cooking, cleaning and doing laundry for himself. But also in those years, my Dad has gotten 7 years older, much more frail and at 81, was diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease. Our lives take a turn once again.

It is difficult to see my once vital, healthy father struggle with his symptoms of Parkinson's. The tremors, stiffness, unsteady gait and other neuro symptoms are difficult to watch. Medication has helped some. My goal long term is to keep him at home, but I know that might not be possible. He is still driving, something I am not happy about, but he doesn't drive at night and only goes short distances. I do not want to take his independence away from him. My goal is to help, not hinder.

My Dad is a proud man. He doesn't like to ask for help. He is stubborn and obstinate. I feel more like his parent than his daughter some days. I make extra food all the time and we take it to him in the hopes that he eats better. I can't be there every moment of the day. He likes what I cook thankfully and we always get empty bowls back. Recently, when we went away, I bought him a bunch of Stouffer frozen dinners because I was worried he wouldn't eat while we were gone. My need to be a caretaker goes a little off the deep end at times.

Our journey into Parkinson's has just begun. I read everything I can get my hands on. At 81, he isn't a candidate for many things. I'm working on getting him to be more active so his muscles continue to work. He needs to work on flexibility so he can maintain his balance. It is really an uphill battle... If there is anything I have learned in the years since Mom left us, it is that my Dad truly does love me and now I am much more a part of his life than I ever felt I have been. I love him and I really do need to tell him that much more often.

That's my Random Rambling for now... www.pdf.org

Life goes on... or does it really?

Joe and my sister, Sue

One year ago, my awesome brother-in-law was killed in a motorcycle accident. Another driver had a moment of lost concentration, distraction, carelessness, stupidity,... call it whatever you wish, but our family has been changed forever. I guess I should say... families. The driver and his family will live with the fact that he killed an innocent person until the day HE dies.

Joe was a stand-up guy. He was always willing to help ANYONE. He was always there when you needed him. He taught me a great deal about things I had no idea about, like how to put in a new faucet or rip out a ceiling. He was there if I needed help, but he taught me how to be self-sufficient and do it myself. That, I will always remember. I'm not afraid to tackle home improvement projects because of Joe.

He was my brother-in-law, my nemesis, my friend, but most of all he was my sister's knight in shining armor. They were meant to be. Even when they seemingly lost each other when they were younger, they always found their way back. They were soul mates. They loved each other to the moon and back which is the way every relationship should be. But theirs was a love for all time...cliche' as that sounds. True is true.

Yes, life has gone on. Whether we wanted it to, or were prepared for it to, it still went on. Grief doesn't end miraculously after the funeral or in 3 months or 6 months or a year. Grieving families still need support from family and friends which really seems to dwindle shortly after the funeral. It shouldn't. Grief distances people. They don't know what to say or do. Sometimes just calling to say hello, dropping off cookies or sending a card just to let the family know they are still in other's thoughts is enough. For the grieving, knowing that someone still cares is so important.

In this year, I've learned a great deal about myself. Grief counseling has taught me that I can't fix everything. I can't bring Joe back, I can't help my sister and nephew cope, I couldn't stay angry forever. I'm not angry any longer. I am sad... sad for my sister and my nephew that Joe is no longer here for them. I am sad for his parents and brother for the same reason. I am sad for Joe's friends and family because we all lost an important part of our lives.

I miss Joe's sense of humor, eye-rolling, smirk and tell-it-like-it-is attitude. I miss being able to call him and just talk to him. He was the brother I never had and my favorite pain in the ass. I miss him.

Yes, life goes on, but not in the way we planned. We plan, God laughs... but that doesn't mean we should stop planning. I look at how far we have all come in the year after that fateful day. My sister and nephew are my heroes. There are few people I've met any stronger.

My wish for them is that they continue healing, moving forward even when it feels they are going backwards and stay strong. We all love you. As for Joe, I will always remember the good times, fun and what a good person he really was to everyone who came across his path. So remember Joe by doing something good today and every day. That's how life goes on...