...and then we left Dad at his senior apartment.

He wasn't unhappy, but he has almost always lived at the farm.  He was born in 1932 at a hospital about 9 miles from the farm.  He grew up on the farm and has been farming since he was old enough to help his Dad, my Grandpa George.  He lives to farm and farming keeps him alive.  I worry that without the farm, he won't live.

He spent a few years in the army at Fort Knox.  Mom was with him most of the time although she gave birth to baby Laurie alone in Grafton, ND right after he enlisted, and Rob was born in KY.  Dad was proud to serve in the Army and we're proud of him and his service.  His Army experience was critical to his life philosophy and the lessons learned were profound.  The army lives inside the fiber of his being in a really positive way.

He spent the better part of two winters in Fargo at a senior residence with Mom.  They were there because she needed to be near her doctors in Fargo.  He liked it there, because he wanted her to be happy and he can make the best of anything.  It was a really fancy place with people of means, who "dressed" for dinner.  He did too, because it pleased Mom and he's a social guy.  Everyone liked him there, the staff, the residents, and anyone he came in contact with.  He was happy.

In March Mom died.  We helped move Dad home to the farm and he lived there this summer, alone.  He knew it was probably his last summer at the farm.  He says he's afraid he'll fall and no one will find him for days.  He's kind of joking, but he's kind of serious.  He's not afraid, but he's actually a little afraid.  Dad's never been afraid of anything that I could see.  He's afraid of living without Mom more than he's afraid of living alone.  But, he's tough and strong and smart.  He's my dad.

Then in October, his Mom died.  Grandma Joy was 107+ and we knew it was coming.  He and I visited her a couple of times in the days just before she died.  She had suffered some mild strokes that caused her to be unresponsive.  But, she lived an amazing life and Dad loved his mommy, like we all do.  He cried and mourned the loss of his mom, like we all do.  I know, I just lost mine.

Grandma was in the nursing home attached to the senior residence apartments where Dad now lives.  He doesn't have anything to do there.  He has a TV and a number of twittering (not tweeting) old ladies who seem enamored with this new "Mr. Green."  They keep asking if he plays cards and I keep hoping he'll play. They have Tuesday and Thursday socials at lunch time, but they don't "dress" for dinner each night.  I wish they did.

So after we finished the sugarbeet harvest, we packed up his essential items.  We moved his bed, the last furniture item he needed, to his apartment.  We made enough noise so that people came by. We let the staff know he was there to stay.  We made more introductions, put the coffee pot in his kitchen, filled his sock and underwear drawers.  We hung shirts, pants, and a few jackets.  We checked his TV.  We hugged.  There were a few tears, but he's strong....and then we left Dad at his senior apartment.

When I call him, he says he's looking forward to me coming back to visit.  I wish I could.
There's no way to be in two places at once, but if I could be with Dad and Tom, I would.  I love those guys. They are my life.  My past, my present and my future. But my past is really dependent on Dad right now.  Mom and Grandma Joy are gone.

I call Dad every other day and we have conversations, he doesn't have much to say so we make small talk.  My heart breaks because he's my hero, a perfectly wonderful man with faults, flaws and yet, he's perfect for me.  He's my Dad.
I love you Dad.
You really are perfect for me.

Like a wave it hit me in... Costco.  My husband and I were walking through the store. (We're not members so buying wasn't an option.)  We had permission to look, so we looked.
We looked at TV's, blenders, wines, furniture, shirts, toothpastes, vegetables, books and more.  When we walked up to the women's vests, memories of shopping at Sam's Club in Grand Forks with Mom, Jane, Sue, and Stacey suddenly swept over me.
We would shop, laugh and try on silly Sam's Club 'road kill' vests and take pictures and laugh more (or literally snort) till we were silly.  I tried on a vest, had Tom take a picture of me and sent it to my sisters-in-law and that trigger set me off.  For the rest of the day I felt like crying for the absence of my Mom.  I cried at lunch at the Mexican restaurant in the mall with Tom, I cried in the afternoon at home and I cried on the deck as we ate our dinner.  Tom talked me through it, but crying happened and crying is sometimes ugly.
I can tell you that losing someone, a mom, is harder than you can know.  Cry.  Just cry, and then cry a little more.
Here's the deal...My Mom was amazing.  My Mom was awesome, fabulous, loving, cool, fun, pretty, kind, classy, and so much more.  She was my Mom.  Her absence is devastating.  Today was profoundly devastating.  But tomorrow I'll move on with the confidence that she gave me and convinced me I had, to do whatever I must do.  I'm my mother's daughter and she would expect me to be victorious over emotions and issues that might stop me from doing what I know she would have me do.  Succeed.  No excuses.  Go!

Back to School

The blue Honda Civic pulls down the gravel driveway.  Our youngest son enthusiastically moves away to college for his last year.  A bit of gravel dust floats in the air above the road as I stand waving till long after he's out of sight and tears push at the insides of my eyes.  Now what?

This might have been his last summer at home.  Of course we want him to graduate, get a job, find love, success, happiness, joy, community, and financial freedom.  We are, after-all, supposed to raise our children to leave us.  Right?  That's the plan, the design, the goal.

I sit on the couch with the sleeping dog at my feet inside the quiet house.  For a few minutes I feel sort of sick inside.  Its too quiet.  There really is only the sound of the mantel clock ticking and the air conditioning fan.  

And then, bam, the front door opens and he's back!  In all the packing, he has forgotten his wallet.  So he's in the house, running up the stairs to his room to find the wallet and zipping back down stairs with a smile.  He accepts my extra hug and shoots out the front door into his car.  He's gone, but he'll be back for many more hugs on many more summer days.  He just won't necessarily "live" here.  Or maybe he will.

There are job market issues for many college grads.  There are boomerang kids.   We may or may not have those issues.  But today we've said goodbye and experienced the last "back to school" event for our family.  So we hugged and waved and had another moment when the tears wouldn't stay away as the dust again floated in the air above the driveway.

He's gone again, back to school.

Perfect and Priceless

Mom's gone.  She passed away, passed on, expired, moved on, left us, ceased to exist, gone to meet her Maker, bought the farm, assumed room temperature, kicked the bucket, in a better place, pushing up daisies, singing with the angels - died.  There's no good way to say it.  And yet I forget.  In an exciting moment I'll think: "I've got to tell Mom!"  But it's actually, "I've got to tell M....."  Then Sadness.  Deep Sadness.  Shocking, paralyzing, deep, painful sadness.  She was my Mom and was perfect and priceless to me, and she's gone.

Reality requires that we must deal with death.
We must continue to live, while a big part has died.  A big part.
So we deal.
We live.

Living means dealing with the stuff left behind.  Mom is gone, but her stuff isn't.
Dad needs help so we're going up there next month to help him deal with her stuff.
It's painful to think of going through her things without her.
She has a lot of very nice things, none of which she designated to be given to a certain person.

Mom was an artist and had a lot of nice paintings.  She collected china, glassware, baskets, antiques, books and more.  She also had a lot of fine jewelry.  That's where this process gets emotional for me, but not like you might think.

Mom has already given me everything that I could ever have wanted or needed.  She loved me, taught me, believed in me, cherished me, loved who I loved even when I was weak or immature.  She coached me, honored me, waited for me, cheered me on, questioned me, held me, disciplined me, cautioned me, helped me, directed me, demanded of me what she knew I could give, grieved with me, surprised me, advised me, showed me, saw me, heard me, had patience with me, and gave me everything I could ever have needed.

But if I could have one thing of moms, it would be the pearl bracelet that our precious daughter-in-law Brittany wore when she married our son Andy last Spring.  It was Brittany's "something borrowed."  Mom let me borrow it when I married Tom too.  Dad gave it to Mom on their wedding day 61 years ago.  I would want that pearl bracelet, but not for me, for Brittany.  Its perfect and priceless in a way that's hard to describe -- just like Mom, and she's already given me everything I could possibly need.

Life and death

On a Saturday morning while I worked in our yard in VA, my brother called from ND with the news that Mom was unresponsive this morning.
Just before the airplane doors closed, my brother's text said, "they've called it."
How does a person go on living without their mom?  I'm not sure I can do that.
Mom was the pole that held the family flag, the spine from which all nerves emanated, the main stem, the theme, the force, the fire, the source. And now she's gone.
Dad has weakened dramatically since she departed on 3/30/13.  He has faded, failed, diminished, and slid.
And every day I have thoughts, questions and I just want to ask Mom.  The void is ridiculously large.  It's an ocean of space, loss, sadness.
  But she's gone.
It hurts so much worse than I imagined it would.  It hurts so bad.
Not sure what to do.

Harvest Happenings

The big trucks roll at high speeds down the 2 lane highways loaded with sugarbeets.  The drivers range from experienced CDL drivers to rookies still learning to manage the transmissions in the trucks they were introduced to only days ago.  There are more wheels under them than they've ever had before and more tons behind them than most of them can fathom.  For two weeks (or so) the 24 hour a day frenzy of people moving produce to market in North Dakota and Minnesota takes center stage to almost any other activity.   It truly takes a village to complete this harvest.  The mailman helps when he's done driving his mail route.  The barber helps after cutting hair all day.  The minister takes a shift and earns the respect of the locals and gains fodder for future sermans even though he's a less than average driver.  Family members fly "home" to support their family's farm at a time when every able bodied person supports this all out effort to complete the harvest.  The goal is to keep the sugarbeet harvestor lifting beets into the trucks.  The trucks need drivers... and that's where I come in.
I'm a farm girl and grew up driving tractors and trucks and loved every minute of it.  When I was young, I couldn't wait to get out of school to ride with my mom to watch the whole operation, whether it was grain, potato or sugarbeet harvest.  She was a pro and could drive in the fields, under the harvestor, back up the truck, raise the hoist and dump the truck wearing pretty lipstick on her smile the whole while.