A New Perspective On Dad

I've mentioned that I've been transcribing Mom's journals.  I've been taking a break from that to transcribe my dad's love letters that he wrote Mom while he was in the Navy, and which she saved.  (I only wish Dad had saved her letters as well.)

These letters were written from November 1958 to June 1959, and Dad wrote Mom nearly every day during much of that time.  I knew these letters existed and even made every effort to find and preserve them when Mom's house was being cleaned out, but I have never actually started reading them until now.

They are a treasure trove indeed, and I will tell you why.  Not only do they capture what Mom and Dad were going through in the infancy of their love (which later led to their marriage in October of 1959), but they capture the thoughts of a man who never talked much about himself, his history, or what he was feeling.  They also capture a time he never talked about: his time in the Navy.

I've written before that Dad disliked the Navy a lot.  My great aunt said when he came home from the Navy, he threw away his uniform, and I believe Mom confirmed that story as well.  I think Dad probably didn't like the rigidity of service life nor did he care for the atmosphere; I also think he just plain hated being away from Mom, which is very evident in his letters.

The dad I knew was very loving and a wonderful provider to his family, but he was not very demonstrative or open with his emotions.  He was very quiet and kept a lot inside.

The 19 year-old boy who writes these letters I'm currently reading is funny, poetic, and madly in love with my mom.  I've always been a mama's boy and always considered my interests closer to Mom's than Dad's, but I see from my dad's letters that I probably inherited my writing skills, my love for music, and my singing ability from him.

The dad I knew tended to be serious, but the guy in these letters is goofy, intelligent, and poetic.  It's so great to see this side of my dad.  He was a great man who I admired a lot, but these letters bring out a whole other side of him.  I can see why my mom fell for him (and vice-versa).

Some of my favorite passages so far:


"Tell me, if a person talks to a picture, does it mean he’d better see a...head-shrinker ...I’ve found myself talking to your picture two or three times since I put it on my dresser-drawers – It is the large picture of both of us.  By the way, I sleep facing the dresser so you’re the last person I see before going to bed and the first one I see in the morning."

"I guess about all there is left to say is I Love You and imagine by now you’ve already guessed that.  So I’ll sign off now with this little thought: Confucious say, 'Boy and Girl who get caught in revolving door go around together'

"P.S. I do love you...more than words can tell and Confucious was right ‘cause we’re both caught in the revolving door of love"

"While I’m downtown today I must remember to pick up some more writing paper or my next letter to you is liable to be written on Kleenex tissues.  Do you realize that since I’ve started writing you, I’ve used up what would ordinarily be a two months supply of stationary for me.  I don’t care, though, ‘cause it’s worth every sheet of paper, every envelope, and every stamp I use just to hear from you and know that you still love me."

 "I hope to see you in a week and I’ll meet your plane no matter what time of day or night it comes in.  In the meantime I’ll keep sending my love to you by mail."

"It is now 11:05 A.M.  That...means in exactly 5,163 minutes, providing the plane is on time, we’ll be in each others arms.  Actually I haven’t started counting the minutes, yet.  I just figured it out.  I have started counting the hours, however.  I started counting them last night just before I went to bed.  If you get this letter at 6:00 PM Monday we’ll only be 31 hours apart as you read this.  I can hardly wait..

"You know, several times during the last two nights I’ve awakened from my sleep and just laid there thinking of you for about 45 minutes or an hour before I would fall asleep again."

"I’ve never loved or missed anyone so in my whole life.  All I can think about anymore in my spare time is you and the good times we’ve had together and dream of...good times yet to come.  Oh, my darling, I miss you so, and your letters mean very much to me so write often."

"I was singing the song, “Linger Awhile” to myself today.  The reason I tell you this is because the song has taken on a new meaning for me.  One verse starts out 'and when you are gone away, each hour will seem a day.'  Each hour away from you...does seem like a day and these past four days...have seemed like an eternity.  Oh, my darling, I love you so, and I miss you so and wish you were here with me, but I know this cannot be so all I can do now is send my love by mail and save the love in my heart until I am with you again."

Dad was a "smitten kitten."  I'm glad it worked out.

On another note, most days I feel I've adjusted well to Mom's declining mental health.  I'm able to see the humor in it and appreciate who Mom is.  And the fact is, she's healthy and seems happy.  But every once in a while I do have a melancholy or angry day where I just miss the woman I grew up with.  Of course, she's the same person, but her personality and mental capacity have altered a great deal.  I never would have imagined nine or ten years ago that we would be where we are now.

I call Mom every single day.  Most of the time we have the same exact conversation, but I'm grateful she's still in a stage where she can still create new memories (although sometimes she's not so successful at hanging on to them) and that she's able to communicate; that she still knows who I am and remembers much about my life.

But I do miss the woman I once had deep conversations with; who was an excellent Trivial Pursuit player; who read (and retained) a lot; who was very independent; who knew her history the way it happened; who I would go to lunch with; etc.  I just miss the old times.  

But I'm adjusting to the new.  It's all you can do, right? 

Mom Has A Boyfriend

Sorry I haven't written in a while.  Life gets busy.

The sale of Mom's house is supposed to close tomorrow.  I wish selling and buying houses didn't have to be so complicated.  But really, Mom's house sold much faster than I expected.  We're getting $183,365 for it, which is about what we had hoped to get, so that's great.

I'm sad to see the house go.  Jonah and I were in Utah this past week doing a lot of legal and trust stuff for my mom.  Very stressful stuff.  Anyway, at one point we visited our friend who have lived across the street from Mom just a couple of weeks less than lived in her home.  They've literally been lifelong friends to me, but it sure was weird seeing someone else living in the place I've long considered home (we let them move in and pay rent before the house officially closes).  I'm actually going to send them a letter welcoming them to their new home.  I only hope their family loves living there as much as mine did.

It was good to see Mom, and her brother who she hasn't seen for about seven years came to visit.  I think it was hard for him to see her like she is; I'm used to it now.  It was really good to see him.

And yes, it looks like Mom has become very good friends with a male resident.  It all seems very innocent, although one of the nurses called him (Harold his name is) the "resident Casanova."  I'm glad Mom has a friend, and I think it's good for both of them, but part of me feels like an overprotective parent saying, "Who is this boy?  What are his intentions?"

Mom seems to be adjusting well to her new home.  She didn't even have time to talk to me today because they were going on some outing.  I called later and found out she and Harold had sat together.  I saw them holding hands the other day.  My older sister saw Harold give Mom a kiss.

The other day Harold and Mom were talking in her room until 9:00 PM, at which point Mom said she and Harold should retire to their separate rooms and go to bed.

Mom is making friends.  She has told me about Harold, of course, as well as Helene (who's losing it, apparently), Libby, and Myrna.

The staff says she's a delight to have.  She still regressing, but seems somewhat stable.  She's still able to develop new memories and hold on to them, which is a good phase to be in.  Eventually, that stops as does the ability to communicate and eventually, the ability to feed and toilet oneself.

I don't know when all that will happen.  I look at Mom nine years ago, for example, and there were no signs of dementia whatsoever.  Here we are nine years later, and her short term memory is completely shot, she has imaginary memories, and she's very confused.  But she at least seems happy, which I am grateful for.

My brother and sister-in-law tried to have her over for dinner last night, but she was agitated and very confused about things.  She wanted to go home.  When they took her back, she didn't recognize the assisted living facility at all.  My brother was a bit disturbed by it.

Yet today, without any coaxing from me, she was able to relay some of what she did last night, so stuff is still getting through.

She has forgotten her home of 51 years.  It's good.  It makes it easier on her and us.  But it is bizarre.

Jonah and I met with Mom's lawyer this week and we were a bit taken aback that he had charged us $4,500 for a service we thought was included in the flat fee we had originally been quoted.  It turns out it wasn't.  We expressed our displeasure and said that in the future communication about such matters must be better.  $4,500 may be chump change to the law firm, but that's a month and a half's worth of care for Mom.

I'll be glad when the house money is in the trust.  Then we know with that and the other money Mom has that her care can be paid for for 6 or 7 years by which time Medicaid will be covering some of that.

I'm not looking forward to tax time next year.  I'm in charge of getting all that done, and I think this first year, especially, will be a bit of a headache.

Jonah and I had a good time visiting my family.  I do hope the next time I'm in town it will be a little more relaxing.

Embracing Death

I've been thinking a lot about death today.

An acquaintance of ours is terminally ill.  He will die...and soon.  It's only a matter of time.

This man is more of a friend of a good friend than he is a close of friend of mine.  But the good friend (who I have written about before) is in prison and cannot visit his dying friend, and so Jonah and I have been visiting in his stead.

The dying man has been somewhat of a tortured soul.  As long as I have known him, he has been very cynical and seems to have a lot of pent up anger, bitterness, and resentment.  He certainly has not been much of a believer in God as long as I've been acquainted with him.  I know he grew up in an abusive home and he has also been plagued with HIV for much of his life.  He was once a physically handsome individual, but the side effects of his medications have distorted his appearance, and I think that is one thing he has been unhappy about.  He has had a somewhat empty life.  To the best of my knowledge he has no family and is alone.  He has had no serious relationships that I know of.  He was not particularly well-liked or even well-understood by many who know him.

Let's call him Jack.  When Jack's health took an especially sharp turn for the worst, Jonah and I visited him.  He asked why God would play such a cruel trick on him, and then immediately apologized for it as if he feared that same God.  This was especially interesting since he seems to be an atheist.  But it also signaled to Jonah and me that maybe Jack was entering a new phase of his life.
 Jack also talked about what a wasted life he had had and lamented that he had very little to show for it.  I don't think that's true.  I think he made many good contributions to his life.  He also talked about feeling remorse for never forgiving the father who abused him.  This was interesting coming from a man who had held on to so much bitterness and anger about many things (not just his father).

As the weeks have passed, Jonah and I have noticed great changes in Jack.  No longer do we see a guy so racked with pain and cynicism, but someone who is witnessing things he probably never believed in.  Jack has made a conscious choice to stop eating.  When Jack was in great pain, he had talked about committing suicide.  In a way, I think Jack is still committing a sort of suicide, although since his prognosis is terminal, I don't necessarily blame him.

I've talked about my attitudes about death before in this blog.  I've never been particularly afraid to die nor have I really ever thought of death as a negative or bad thing.  I think it's just part of life; a transition we go through as part of our greater spiritual life.

Certainly the temporary separation it causes can be painful and sad, especially for those who have no faith or belief in an afterlife.  I, however, do believe that life continues on after the separation of our body and spirit, and in fact, don't believe in a "death" at all.  The spirit is and always will be.  What we call death is simply a temporary separation, and I do indeed believe it is only temporary.

I notice as I get older, the more people I know who die.  That's the same for many.  And I do think of my own mortality and realize that I could, in fact, die tomorrow if that is what happens.

I also think of the blessings of death.  Jack has suffered a lot.  I sense that he has not known much peace in his life.  I think of the love and understanding he will come to know on the other side of the veil, and I think that will be a great blessing to him.

I think of my cancer-ridden friends, Melanie and Marlyse; or my tortured friend, David, who committed suicide; and I think of my own dear father who basically suffocated in his own liquids for a month before he died and how miserable he was during that time.  I think of my dad's mother, who was so unhappy after her husband passed away that she kind of gave up on living life.  I think of the corruption and evil of this world and the fact that death is only a return to a love and understanding that we don't fully comprehend here.

Now before you get the wrong idea, I am not in any way, shape, or form saying that I wish to die.  In fact, I have a great deal to live for.  When I was buried deep in the closet trying to be a good Mormon boy, I longed for death.  I longed to be taken away from this mortal existence so that I wouldn't have to deal with it anymore.  Finding Jonah and coming out changed all that.  I'm very happy in my life and happy with Jonah.  I have somebody else to live for, not to mention family and friends that I love and need and who need me.  I like my life very much and feel I have a lot of it I'd like to live and hope Jonah and I are together for a long time.

At the same time, if God called me home tomorrow, I am not afraid to die.  I feel like I have a lot more left to do, but when it's my time to die, I'd like to believe I'm ready for it and would face it without guilt, fear, trepidation, or regret.  And I believe there is a peace and love finds on the other side that some people have a harder time finding on this side.

I, myself, feel quite peaceful about my life and the direction it's heading and the choices I've made.  I'm far from perfect and certainly always have room for improvement, but I have honestly striven to be the best and most loving person I can be.  Some days I fail, but it isn't from lack of trying.

I remember a song my choir sang in high school by Johann Sebastian Bach with a vocal smear (where individual singers in the choir sing one note at a time on their own breath, thus creating a cacophony of sound that is both dissonant and beautiful).  In fact, I believe it was this arrangement:

   

I thought at the time that it was so beautiful and haunting.  For some reason my thoughts today reminded me of its lyrics:

Come, sweet death, come blessed rest!
Come lead me to peace
For I am weary of the world.
Oh come!  I wait for you.
Come soon and lead me,
Close my eyes.
Come, blessed rest.

While at the time I thought the music wonderful, I found the lyrics to be depressing.  Today I think I understand why someone might be compelled to write such lyrics.

Death is a friend, not an enemy; something that releases rather than takes or steals; something to be embraced, not feared.  Even those who are taken too young or "in their prime" or "before their time" are only separated from their loved ones for a season.  And admittedly, that season can be very painful and hard and seemingly unfair, but it is a temporary state.

As I've dealt with my own mom, who is very much alive, I have been struck by the circle of life.  We start as infants, and when I look at newborns and babies who are unable to speak, I sense that their connection beyond the veil is still intact; that they see and hear things we are not in tune enough to see or hear ourselves because mortality has tainted that connection; that their connection with God is very strong.  Then as I look at those who are getting old, I witness that same childlike quality and dependence I see in children.  Whereas our parents once took care of us, now we in turn must take care of them.  Likewise, I witness that same spiritual connection in those who are getting ready to die, like Jack.  They begin to see and hear things we don't recognize, but I believe they are very much real.  They are getting ready to make the transition, and it is a good thing, not a bad one.

I have a feeling people like Mom and Jonah will hang on to life for a while.  Death will not come swiftly to them.  Whereas I suspect (and hope) death for me will be quick and sudden.  Or, at the very least, will be something I embrace without trying to hang on to life.

 But who knows?  Only time will answer that question.

The fact is, death is something we will all experience.  It's simply a part of life.  As we get older, more people we know will die and eventually we will, too.  Jack has anywhere from a few days to a couple of months.  I may have years to go.  I may go tomorrow.  But I will go someday and so will you.

Mom always seemed afraid to talk about death.  She found it depressing and would change the subject.  I don't dwell on the subject, but it's certainly not one I fear nor does it bother or depress me.  In fact, it fascinates and intrigues me.  Yes, I miss loved ones when they pass, but death is just a phase of the never-ending existence we all have.  It's just part of our progression.  I'm not wishing for it or wanting it, but neither do I fear it, and when it happens, that's just the next step in this glorious life that I have the privilege to call mine.

Of Journals and Genealogy and History

I was never much into genealogy as a kid.  Genealogy was quite prevalent in Mormon culture when I was growing up, and perhaps it still is.  I was interested in the history, but the collecting of names and dates never really struck my fancy. 

I had relatives who were quite active in genealogical pursuits, including one if my aunts on my mom's side, my mom's aunt, and my dad's cousin.  I figured they could do the work since it was something that didn't really interest me.

As I've been reading Mom's journals and going through old pictures, I realize there is so much I don't know about my ancestors and sadly, much I will probably never know because the parties involved are deceased.  I have a great aunt and uncle who are still alive and quite sharp, and I hope to interview them before they die to get more information about my dad's side of the family. 

I have come to realize I know very little about my mom's dad's side of the family; virtually nothing about her stepfather's family, and very little about my dad's mom's parents.

Dad's dad's family is quite well researched, and I do know a bit about Mom's mom's family.

Some things I have learned which I never knew before:

Mom's dad's mother died a week after he was born, and his father remarried, and that was the grandmother my mom knew.

One of Mom's aunts from the second marriage is still alive and in assisted living.  She's in her 90s, I believe.

Dad's mom worked in a ribbon shop and also worked for a photographer before she got married.

There is a slight chance that Dad's mom got married because she was pregnant, although she insisted this was not the case.  However, she and my grandpa lived separately with each of their parents for the first few months of their marriage.

My great-grandmother on my dad's side said she wouldn't marry my great-grandfather unless they had their own home, so he built her one.

My mom's stepfather, the only grandpa I ever knew, didn't want anyone informed of his death until after he was cremated.

My mom's stepsister died of an aneurysm about 13 years ago.

Mom' uncle's boss accidentally backed over over Mom's uncle's toddler son with an automobile and killed him.

It's also interesting reading Mom's journals and getting new perspectives on things that perhaps I didn't recognize as a child.  For example:

I didn't know that Mom's relationship with her mother-in-law was sometimes strained.  It is well known in my family that Grandma showed blatant favoritism towards her youngest daughter, and you can sense that Mom was jealous of that and bothered by Grandma's unwillingness to live life after the death of her husband.

I did not realize Moms' frustrations with her church service.  In what I've read thus far, it is clear that she finds serving as a Primary teacher frustrating and she really didn't want to serve as a Relief Society nursery leader.

I never recognized how much Mom and Dad really sacrificed for us.  When I read about Mom shuttling us kids around everywhere, and how domestic she was when I was younger (cleaning, cooking, housework), taking classes on speech therapy so she could better understand my sister's speech problems growing up, Mom's church callings, family trips, sewing outfits for my sisters even though it wasn't her strongest talent, working at night, etc. I am exhausted by how much she had to do and fully recognize that her motives were based on how much she loved her kids and wanted them to succeed.

Anyway, a desire to trace my family's history has been kindled in me.

Here are some of the coolest photos I'v come across so far:

These are my great-great grandparents on my dad's side.  The little girl standing between her father's legs is my dad's dad's mother.

 

This is that same little girl as a young woman with my great-grandfather (Dad's dad's parents)

 

My great-grandfather is at far right on the front row.  The man in the middle with the mustache is my great-great grandfather.

This is my dad's dad (left) and his two brothers.  The one in the middle is still alive and actually looks the same (only much, much older - lol)

This is my great-grandfather with his daughter (my dad's mom).

This is my great-grandfather with his daughter (Mom's mom).

Grandma (Mom's mom) as a teenager is some production.  She's in the second row, fifth from the left.

My dad is the boy in the middle.  His mom (my grandma) is between the two boys (the younger boy is my uncle).  Her mother (my great-grandmother) is in the middle.  The other ladies are aunts.

Mom's dad as a young man.

Really cute picture of my dad and his brother at Forest Lawn Cemetery in 1947.  I had never seen this before.

 Dad with his brother, parents, grandparents, and uncles.

 Mom's mom's mom.

 Mom on a pony in San Francisco.

Mom and her mom in San Francisco.

 This kind of blows me away.  This photo was taken in 1947 at a Stake Center in San Francisco while my dad and his family were on vacation, I think.  They lived in Provo, Utah at the time, I believe.  Pictured are my dad and his brother.  Dad's mom has her arms on his shoulders.  To the right of her are her parents.  I believe the lady behind her is her mother-in-law, and I presume my dad's dad took the photo.

This picture was probably taken 10 years later.  Mom is far right, front row.  Note it's the same steps of the same Stake Center.  This was a stake center Mom would have frequented as a youth in San Francisco.  I don't really believe in coincidences.  It's kind of fun to think Mom and Dad were in such even close proximity years before they met.

WHEEL! OF! HUMILATION!

Well, I won't be on "Wheel of Fortune" any time soon.  I'm pretty good at the game...at home, that is.  So when I heard the "Wheel-Mobile" was rolling into town I decided I'd go and audition.  Really not much to it: just fill out an application, put it in a drum, and hope they pick your name to play the live game to see if they like you enough to qualify.  I didn't even think I'd make it that far.  My name never gets drawn in these kinds of circumstances, and there were easily 3-400 people at my session and only enough time to pick about 50 of those people; so you can imagine my surprise when I was my name was the last drawn for the very first group.

We were told to be energetic, enthusiastic, demonstrate good personality, and be good at the game.  I thought I did well at presenting myself and my charms.  I was asked a little bit about myself, hobbies, career, that sort of thing.  I felt I came off well.  I may have tried a bit too hard to come across as more charismatic than I feel I am, but I held my own and didn't embarrass myself...yet.

We played the speed round - the part where Pat Sajak lets each contestant guess a letter and then they have three second to solve it before he moves on to the next contestant.  We had been brought up in groups of five.  The letter I chose on my first turn was "T," and it was up there.  Other contestants didn't have as much luck, and no one was yet able to solve the puzzle (which was "An Event," by the way).  On my next turn, I picked an "A" (also up there).  

I was determined to be the one to solve the puzzle.  I had already demonstrated charm, enthusiasm, and charisma.  I just needed to win this thing, and they would pick me to be on the show.

Then my stupid nerves took over.

After I guessed "A" and had my three seconds to solve, I looked at the board, which said:

T_A_ _ _C
_AM

I thought of words that start with "T" and end with "C", and it took me a couple of seconds, but I finally realized it was "traffic," but I knew I had no time left, and I choked and blurted out the first thing that came to mind:

"Traffic Ham!"

Yes, folks - I said "traffic HAM"

To make matters worse, I immediately realized my error and blurted out "traffic jam" after my turn had already ended, thus spoiling the game for the remaining contestants. If the guy after me didn't already know the answer, he certainly did after my display.

So embarrassing. 

I was at least glad the host thought I said "traffic cam," which at least makes slightly more sense than my stupid guess.

And then of course because I was in the very first group, I had to spend the next hour watching other possible contenders vying for a shot while lamenting the fact that I had blown my own.  I was so annoyed with myself and yet laughing at the absolute stupidity and absurdity of it all.  And of course being an "armchair contestant" is so much easier than when you're actually up there playing. I was able to solve quite a few puzzles from my spot in the audience.  Wish I had done so well when I was actually on stage.  I could feel them crossing my name off as soon as I shouted my inane answer.

Oh, well. I got a "Wheel of Fortune" tee-shirt, a "Wheel-Mobile" paper model, and a great (and embarrassing) story to share. lol

 [Oh, two side notes: One lady asked the host to give Pat Sajak a big hug for her.  He said something like "I'll get right on that," but his tone and body language told me he's probably never even met Pat Sajak let alone able to find himself in a position where he could hug him for some random lady.  I actually thought the host had a thankless job which he did very well: pump up the crowd, keep them engaged, move things along, and keep things funny and light.

Other side note: One lady who also won't be joining me on "Wheel of Fortune" was this strange woman who kept saying random things and didn't listen to the host's instructions.  He asked her to tell a story about where she was from and she went off on some other tangent but then she said she had another story to tell, and when the host told her okay, she shouted into the audience, "Hey, Mom and Dad!" and when the host was done with her, she randomly shouted, "Bon Jovi!"  Then when she played the game, she guessed a letter than had already been guessed even though you could clearly see what letters had already been guessed.

I guess nerves make people do stupid things.  ;-) ]

Wow, That Was Fast

I mentioned here that we put Mom's house up for sale.  Two days later we had a bid on it.  We put the house up at $209,500 expecting maybe a bid of $195,000-$199,000, but the offer was for $205,000, which we took.  While the sale isn't final and while I am well aware anything can happen when it comes to selling and buying houses, I feel confident that the sale will go through, and apparently so does the family who is buying as they attended my mom's ward today and introduced themselves and acted as though the sale was a done deal.

I don't know them nor have I met them, but apparently they live in Mom's former stake and wish to stay there but needed a bigger house.  They are a younger couple with two young boys (about 4 and 2 years old).

According to the couple, the house will be inspected on Tuesday.  I ask for all the prayers of you in blog-land that the inspection will go well, that there will be no unforeseen expenses, and that this sale will go through.  We need the money to pay for Mom's care.  I never thought I would be eager for Mom's house to be sold, but Mom is the priority, and to care for her we need this sale to go through, especially since this is a very good offer.

As for Mom, she seems healthy and happy, and for that I am enormously grateful.  Jonah and I hope to visit her at the end of May when the show for which I'm ushering goes dark.  I look forward to seeing her again.  I have missed her a lot, and I know she feels the same way.  It will be weird, though to go home and have no home to stay in as I have in the past.  :-(

Memories For Sale

This is a photo of my dad, mom, and big sister taken a year or so after they moved into the house I grew up in; a house Mom spent 50 years in; and a house which she no longer even seems to remember.  Dad's father had a special relationship with the home builder and was able to get Mom and Dad a discount on it.  Mom and Dad and their descendants have been the only residents of this home.  That will change soon.

Mom and Dad's house went up for sale today.  Mom and Dad paid $15,000 (I think) for this house in 1961.  Today we're attempting to sell it for $209,500.  The home's value has certainly increased even accounting for inflation, but it's nothing compared to the value of memories created in this home.

It makes me a little sad to know that my childhood home will belong to someone else, but it is also my fondest wish that whoever ends up buying Mom's home will have as many wonderful memories there as my family and I did.


This is Mom with my older brother about two years after the previous picture was taken.  Notice the recently planted rose bushes in the background.

This is Mom and me about 6 years later.  Notice those same rose bushes.  They still flourish today.

I was in Jonah's parents' backyard the other day.  We had been helping them prune, weed, and clean up a bit.  After we had finished, I was sitting on a bench back there looking at their very lovely and full rose bushes and I just started crying thinking of the roses Mom and Dad had planted for their new home.  Just like those roses, so many wonderful and cherished memories blossomed in that home on the street where I grew up.

I'll always have my memories, of course.  Even if a disease like dementia temporarily robs me of them, they will always be inside me somewhere.  Selling a house or getting rid of material things will never change that.  But I do feel a loss of the symbol of what my childhood home represents.  Handing that over to someone else is hard.

I have been transcribing Mom's journals so that my family will have a keepsake of her life when after she has passed on.  Originally, I was just doing random journals in no particular order.  Now I've decided to go in order because I am interested in seeing the progression of Mom's life.

I had forgotten how domestic Mom was when I was younger.  In the journals I've been reading (about 1978-1979), she's constantly cleaning and baking and doing stuff with her kids.  Religion, as it always was, was of great importance.  I had forgotten how consuming church life could be pre-correlation.  Family Home Evening on Monday, Relief Society on on Wednesday, Primary on Thursday, Priesthood, Sunday School, and Sacrament Meeting on Sunday (Sunday School early in the day and then returning later for Sacrament Meeting after lunch), and visiting teaching and mutual activities as well.  I vaguely remember it being that way, but it's crazy how time-consuming it must have been.

I'm especially touched by how much my family did together.  Mom and Dad were big on family activities.  In several journal entries spanning a week, Mom recounts how one day we went to Sundance for brunch; the next day we went to Mt. Timponogos and to Provo for miniature golf; the next day to an amusement park called Lagoon where we also picnicked; the next day to Park City to go on the Alpine Slide; and the next day to Murray Park for a picnic.  I fondly remember family vacations we took to Disneyland, Yellowstone Park, British Columbia, Las Vegas, Seattle, the Grand Canyon, etc.  We had regular family home evenings when I was young and we had family dinner regularly.  I know there are many people out there who have had less than ideal family lives, but mine was great.  I miss that family togetherness.  We still get together, but of course with new marriages, new families, and new lives, it is never the same as it was when I was a child.

Mom is doing well.  She's actually been quite coherent and articulate lately, almost like talking to my old mom.  I think assisted living has been very good for her...and for us.  There are days when she would like to leave, but she seems like she is adjusting well.

Mom's brother died a few days ago.  He was in pretty frail health.  I did not know him well.  I met him once when I was a kid, but distance prevented any real relationship with him.  He and Mom were close when they were young, but in later life it seemed they only spoke or wrote on birthdays or holidays.  I always found that kind of sad.  When I told Mom he had died, she didn't react too badly.  She said she hadn't spoken to him in a while (which was true) and seemed resigned that if it was his time to go, it was his time to go.  The next day, however, it seemed to hit her more and she was upset about it.

At first I thought her reaction was strange, but then I thought of my relationship with my own brother, who I love and admire a great deal, but with whom I have little in common.  My older sister's death would be more liable to break me up than his would.  I don't mean that to sound insensitive.  I don't mean it that way.  I just mean that I am closer with my sister than I am with my brother.  I can see my relationship with my brother being much the way Mom's was with hers.

Mom's other brother (who I think she's a little closer to (although they don't communicate much, either) called Mom and spoke with her, and I think that was nice for Mom.

Anyway, it will be interesting to see who buys Mom's house and what becomes of it.