Daddy

The last couple of years seem to be a blur. Time certainly flies when busy living life. Since my Mother's passing in 2017, I have tried to keep a watchful eye on my Daddy. Calling him multiple times daily to check on him or having him over for a visit. Also, asking if he was taking his medications properly and keeping his doctor appointments. My Daddy was 70 years old when my Mother passed away and still very independent.

On November 28, 2019, our lives were once again changed. I received a phone call that ended in an ER visit and diagnosis of a stroke for my Daddy. He was left with impaired speech, weakness and a very strong impossibility of ever driving or living alone again. Since that time, he had a short hospital stay, an inpatient physical therapy stay and a skilled nursing facility stay for continued physical therapy.

On January 17, 2020, my sweet Daddy came home to my house. To say I was nervous would be an understatement. I had not been given any real expectation on what level of care he would require and how to handle it. It was simply a "learn as you go" situation. I was informed home health would come to my home to do physical therapy, occupational therapy and speech therapy. Beyond that, I had absolutely no idea what to do. So, on January 18th I began to figure it out.

My Daddy had grown used to a hospital environment and depending on the things that make simple tasks that had now become difficult, easier. A wheelchair and potty chair were delivered. A walker was purchased and from there as situations arose we adapted accordingly. Waterproof pads, bed alarm, bed rail, bibs, sectioned plates, adult diapers, comfortable shorts and t-shirts, slip proof socks....all the things that would, not only, make him safer and life easier for him but things that would help me keep him that way.

There has been a therapist of some description to visit Daddy five days a week since January. Each visit saw a small improvement. He was getting stronger and his ability to walk assisted improved slowly. However, the daily frustrations of losing his independence wore on both of us. I would have never dreamed that the man who raised me and took such good care of us would literally have to depend on me (the child) for his every need. My Daddy had become my child. A complete role reversal. And, my heart was broken. For him and for me.

When you're in the midst of the storm it's hard to see the blue skies on the other side. Each day had its own set of challenges for both of us. However, little did I know, those challenges would become some of my sweetest memories. In the beginning, I was so angry with him. As it turns out, he had not been taking care of himself at all. He did not follow doctor's instructions with regard to his medications and the possibility existed that his stroke was preventable. I simply could not process that he had not been truthful with me for two years in that regard. After reconciling my anger, I turned inward and blamed myself for not being more aggressive with him in overseeing his health. Though, when really thinking about it, there would have been no way to boss around an independent adult. Especially my Daddy. We aren't supposed to boss our parents. They boss us.

As Daddy's time with me continued we fell into a routine and each day became a little easier in some ways and harder in others. He looked forward to seeing his great granddaughter (my granddaughter) every morning.  I babysit her so they got to spend a lot of time together.  He loved her so. He would lose track of the days and every Saturday would wake up and ask when "the girl" would be over.  I would have remind him every time that she wasn't here on the weekend. In a lot of ways I think spending time with her kept him with us a little longer.

The last Saturday of my Daddy's life was filled with family and fun. We did not get to have Christmas with his sister and her family in December. So, we got together on March 7th. I was apprehensive about taking him to Georgia and getting to far away from home. But, everything was perfect. And, he enjoyed himself so much. I am so glad we went.

Daddy was prone to having bad days. Sometimes he was just tired and I had to remind myself that he was a 73 year old stroke patient.  He was particularly tired on Thursday. He catnapped on and off all day. It was just the two of us for dinner that evening. I woke him from a nap and asked if he was ready to eat. Then got him into his wheelchair and to the kitchen table. It was like so many evenings before. I gave him his medication, checked his sugar, put his bib on him and gave him his plate. And, like every evening before it, when he finished his meal he said "that was good." After dinner, I got him back into his favorite comfortable chair and turned on Family Feud. Watching Family Feud had become our quiet together time every evening. He would guess answers and laugh at Steve Harvey. And, when he was ready for bed he was ask to be "tucked in." This was like any other night.

When Daddy asked to go to bed I got him into his wheelchair and rolled him to his room. Just like all the nights before, I told him he needed to try to potty before laying down. As we started the process of standing him up to his walker, before he stood from his chair, he said "you have been so good to me." Those were the last words I would ever hear him speak.

My precious Daddy left this earth peacefully just before midnight on Friday, March 13, 2020, from a  brain bleed. He did not suffer and felt no pain. He simply slipped out of this life and into the next one. He had been missing my Mother much more than usual and cried often about it. I truly believe God called him home to reunite them and end his longing for her.

As I prepare for his funeral, so many memories and moments spiral through my mind. Memories from my childhood to now. And, the things that frustrated me the most about the last couple of months are the things I wish I could do today. I have questioned every decision I made and every action I took on his behalf. But I keep coming back to the same thought. I had the privilege of taking care of my Daddy one on one in a way he would not have received in a nursing home. My heart broke for him every time I changed his diaper, wiped his backside, helped him into the shower, handed him his toothbrush to brush his teeth, helped him get dressed, combed his hair, cooked a meal for him, did his laundry, helped him to bed or took him to a doctor appointment. However,  I was happy to return the favor because I knew he had done every bit of that for me. He was there for my first breath and I was there for his last.

He and my Mother are walking hand in hand in Heaven now. He is happy and healed.  He is where he wanted to be for the last two years. I know I will see them both again. Until then, I will find, yet another, new normal.

Generations

There aren't to many firsts left as the one year anniversary of my mother's death approaches. Really, only just two important firsts are left...my birthday and the birth of my first grandchild (and mother's first great grandchild).  My daddy is over the moon excited at the thought of a little one. He's so cute when he talks about things like needing to buy a car seat so he can take the baby places with him. Be still my heart!

I was fortunate enough to have known all four of my great grandmothers and two of my great grandfathers. And, completely blessed to have had all four of my grandparents until I was 36. Recently it occurred to me that in the last 10 years all four of my grandparents, my uncle (my mother's brother) and my mother have passed. That is a lot of people I love to leave us in such a short amount of time. However, I am thankful to have had them for as long as I did. So many don't get that. 

In these last days of preparation before my granddaughter gets here I have really, really been missing my mother. It's hard to put into words other than to say I'm about to enter a new phase in life in which I know nothing. I will be a grandmother. I want to ask her what I'm supposed to do. I know what to do but there have been so many times lately that I want to ask her questions or tell her how a doctor visit went. The baby tea was a couple of weeks ago. That was the first big, non-holiday related event that has taken place since her death. I wanted so much for her to be there. I am reminded daily that she is everywhere and always with me. However, my selfish heart wants to actually look at her and touch her. Hear her voice (even though her voice would irritate me sometimes). I chuckle now with a melancholy sigh about welcoming the opportunity to fight with her or at least have a disagreement with her. The smallest, most insignificant things are now the things I long to have with her. 

I decided to pull out a box of baby clothes I had saved and go through them. Looking to see if there was anything I could use for the grand baby. There were so many cute things I had forgotten about. And, as I pulled things from the box four tiny outfits stopped me in my tracks. I stood frozen for what felt like an eternity processing what I was looking at and remembering what they were and to whom they originally belonged. Four tiny little outfits that my mother had put on me 47 years ago and that I put on my daughter 20 years later. Four little outfits that will most likely fit my granddaughter when she arrives. In that moment, I realized that three generations will have worn these dainty little clothes. They are a little less bright than they were 47 or even 27 years ago but I will put them on my granddaughter, if for no other reason than, to take a photo. When this realization hit me the tears began to flow and the loss of my mother was as painful as the day she passed. All I could think was "she won't get to see sweet Anna Kate in these precious clothes. The same clothes her sweet baby girl wore in 1971."  

Everything is clean and put away. All washed in Dreft because that's what my mother would have told me to use. Even though I already knew it. Now, we just patiently wait for our sweet granddaughter, Anna Kate's arrival.

Coca-Cola Congealed Salad

As Easter Sunday comes to a close, I sit here listening to the dishwasher run and the dogs eat their dinner. It has been a beautiful day filled with food, family and laughter. Almost the perfect day. Almost. 

While everyone was eating, I looked around my table at their happy faces. Each of them enjoying the meal I had prepared and chattering about this and that. I cooked a typical Easter meal complete with deviled eggs. This year Daddy requested a Coca-Cola congealed salad. Something my mother used to fix for family gatherings. I had never made one (not that it's hard) but felt it was important to fulfill his request.  Seriously, we are talking jello and a few other ingredients. Nothing gourmet but most certainly filled with love and memories. He was elated when he realized I had indeed made the dish. It was like putting a memory of my mother on a plate for him. He mentioned that he had not had the dish in years and had several servings. Watching him enjoy it made me happy and sad. Happy that he was enjoying it and sad that my mother could not make it for him. 

Our first Easter without her was bittersweet. I cannot describe the emotion as it was something other than sadness. I was not sad today but certainly felt the void of her absence. Tomorrow will mark 6 months since we lost her. Time is flying and life is moving forward. As it should, I suppose.

Christmas

The last present has been opened, the last guest has left and the fire is only embers. Another first has come and gone. Our first Christmas without my mother. I started the day trying to remember last year with her but couldn’t. However, the memories of my childhood Christmases with her were vivid. The Christmas I got my first puppy to the Christmas I got my first stereo rushed through my mind. She has been there with every decoration, every family gathering, every meal, every gift purchased and she was there today. I could feel her presence and her absence at the same time. As the day comes to a close, I can't help but think about what gift I would have given her had she been here. It was so odd to not have a package under our tree with her name on it.

 

Merry Christmas Mother. I miss and love you.

Thanksgiving

Our first Thanksgiving without my mother came and went like any other day. Except it wasn’t any other day. It was like any other Thanksgiving in that Chris and I prepared and cooked for days. We got up early and put the turkey in the oven then began final preparations for the family and friends who would be arriving for lunch. Everyone arrived, we ate, we visited and they left. It wasn’t until the house was completely quiet that I fully realized the extent of her absence.

I have been cooking Thanksgiving for years but it hit me that I would never eat her cooking again. Though it’s her recipes I have used all this time, it’s not the same. She had not really cooked much in a long while. However, she would bring the cauliflower salad every year. She wanted to contribute in some way. Ashley and Allison took that on this year. They did a fantastic job. And, as I scooped it onto my plate I thought about her and her insistence on bringing something. She was so stubborn. It made me smile.

So, here we are the first holiday without her came and went as I know the rest will. My earthly, selfish side is angry and heartbroken but my spiritual side knows she is feasting at the side of Jesus.

(I dreamed of her for the first time last night. She, her parents and her brother were all in my kitchen. I suppose they were all with me for Thanksgiving…if only in my dreams.)

Finality

The last piece of finality to the dream from which I cannot awake has been completed. The marker notifying the world that my mother Judy Yvette Eskew rests in this place has been installed. The marker that tells everyone who may venture by when she entered this life and when she exited it. The marker that gives a brief description of her various titles because there isn't enough room to properly describe everything she was to her family and friends.  The marker that will mirror my daddy's when the time comes with "together forever." That is all. The final part of the permanence of her absence.

I thought of her today while getting my nails done (actually, she's on my mind all the time).  I thought about how pretty her nails looked for her viewing. I thought about how much she enjoyed getting her nails done. I thought about the fact that manicures were the last grandmother/granddaughter outing she and Ashley had together.

Tonight, I'm planning our Thanksgiving menu and making my grocery list. While flipping through my cookbook I turned a page and there it was, a recipe in my mother's handwriting. Handwriting. Just ink on paper. But so much more than that.

 Seemingly benign things invoke an emotion. That is my life now. Part of my new normal. To know that when I least expect it something is going to pull thoughts of my mother from the back of my mind to the very front and center of it. Kind of funny in a way considering she loved to be the center of attention.

One Month

Life as I knew it came to a complete halt just 4 short weeks ago. It’s all a blur. Yet still very raw. The good days are starting to outnumber the bad ones. However, when a wave of emotion hits me there is no stopping it. And, the waves come at the most unexpected times.

My trip to California was a great distraction. Lots to do. People to see. Places to go. The last run of the Zac Brown Band tour. Bittersweet for the band and crew but a quiet sigh of relief for me. Being alone during tour season usually doesn’t bother me. And, this year was no different until my mother passed away. Chris could not be with me the day we buried her. He had a show to play that night and had to get on a plane before the funeral. In all the years he has had to leave, that morning was the most difficult. Not that I couldn’t bury my mother without him. I didn’t want to do it without him. Chris has been my rock. He has wiped almost every tear and listened to me drone on and on about my thoughts and feelings. He has truly been my earthly anchor in this storm.

I now find myself gravitating toward friends who have lost a parent(s). Not because I want to talk about it but because I know they understand my broken heart. An unspoken bond of motherless and/or fatherless children now exists. A club of sorts none of us wanted to join. 

So many have reached out in one way or another. Cards, calls, texts, emails, social media and in person. Kind words from every single one. It is heartwarming to know so many people love me and loved my mother.

Today is Halloween. Though not a major holiday still a first without her. We are making chili for dinner like we do every year and I can’t help but think about how much she loved my chili. She asked me to cook it for her all the time. It’s so strange to smile through tears.