Facing being an Orphan at 60

It is hard to face that I now represent the older generation. I am the oldest surviving child, the oldest surviving grandchild of my mother’s family. I hope with time I will gain strength, perspective and fortitude to carry on my family’s values, traditions and cultural roots.

What a responsibility it is to be the matriarch of the family! Matriarch—the term never crossed my mind until I became an orphan at 60, when both my parents died. It is an awesome responsibility for me to make certain that the generational link is never severed.

I’m not anyone’s child anymore. There is no smooth transition from being a child in the family to becoming an orphan. One day you have a parent and the next day you don’t. As a lifelong pleaser, it’s quite a revelation to know that there is no one to approve or disappoint anymore-- only yourself. You are it!

Today marks my father's death two years ago

Today commemorates the 2nd year of my father’s death. I will always remember this date because it is a day before my birthday. I prayed that he would not die on my birthday but dying the day before my birthday is really not any better. I will always remember this date for the rest of my life as the day I lost my daddy.

My father was afraid of death but was prepared for it in a strange way. He had written his obituary many years before his death; picked the picture he wanted to attach to his death notice and had pre-paid for his mausoleum space (right below my mother's space).

Approximately one month before his death, he had quit eating. This was odd behavior for him because he loved to eat. He did not have an appetite and pushed food away and lost weight. He lacked mobility and balance. He was going downhill fast and entered Hospice. One week later he was gone. I would like to think that at the end he was not afraid of death at all but wanted to be with my mother who had died five months earlier.

So today, I fondly remember his beautiful smile, his loving words, and his wisdom. He was a mentor not only to my brother but also to me. He was a true example of what a father should be to his children. I know that he is happy in heaven with my mother.

A Letter to My Parents on Valentine’s Day

Dear Mama and Daddy,
I miss you. Today on Valentine’s Day, I miss getting the loving card from you. I miss the phone call that wished me a Happy Valentine’s Day. I miss your hugs and kisses.
In your honor, I made a point to send especially beautiful Valentine cards to my sons, their wives and my grandchildren. I thought of you, mama, when I was choosing the cards. You always took such great care in purchasing the most appropriate cards that showed the depth of your love. You and Daddy always exchanged cards. Daddy, after mama had died, we found the cards you saved that mama had given you. All married couples should love each other the way you both loved each other.
You provided a great example to your children and grandchildren of how to care for one another, how to treat one another, and how to respect one another. You were great teachers.
I want you both to know that you are remembered and loved on this special day when people express their love.

Virtual Blog Tour of Sites Related to Grief, Loss, Bereavement

Visit http://www.ajourneywelltaken.blogspot.com/ for a wonderful compilation of books, blogs, websites, services, magazine….all related in some manner to loss, grief and bereavement.

Recipe for Happiness

My mother loved to cook and when she became ill with Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma and was not able to cook anymore, she taught her caregivers. From her recliner, she would tell the caregiver the ingredients to that particular dish, one by one. She never wrote down a recipe, they were all in her head.

At her funeral, one of the caregivers got up and spoke about the gift my mother had given her - she had become a good cook.

This is one of her recipes:
Spanish Flan
6 eggs
1 large can evaporated milk
1 can condensed milk
1 can water
1/2 cup water
1/2- 1 cup sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla
1/4 teaspoon salt

In a bowl, beat eggs, add vanilla, evaporated milk, salt and condensed milk. Put water in the empty condensed milk can and pour into mixture. Mix all ingredients. Put sugar and water in a small pot on high heat. Heat until the sugar turns brown. Pour sugar mixture on the bottom of a tube pan (make sure this pan is one piece). Then pour egg and milk mixture over the sugar. Pour water in a large pot or pan and then set the tubed pan inside of it. Preheat oven at 375 degrees. Place the large pot or pan and tubed pan in the oven. Cook for 45 - 60 minutes. You can tell if the flan is cooked by putting a butter knife through the flan, if the knife comes out clean your flan is done.

I am happy to share her joy of cooking with you.
Enjoy!

Ode to My Granddaughter

Have you ever had a poem just flow out of your mind onto paper? This happened to me this holiday when I wrote this:

Little baby girl you are a miracle to behold

You were given my mother’s name but you haven’t yet been told

What a special person she was

But you have her fight, her lust for life, ‘cause

Little baby girl you have my mother’s name

You have quite a legacy and it should be your aim

To live up to your great-grandmother’ s name

We will remind you of her goodness in every way

She is no longer with us, on earth, anyway

But she is looking over you every day

For you see little baby girl you have her name

And you should always be proud and proclaim

I have my great-grandmother’ s name!

I framed this poem and gave it to my son and his wife as a gift to their three month old daughter, whose middle name is Marina.

Dementia and My Mother

My father had dementia. At times my father did not know who my mother was or that she was ill. He sometimes referred to her as the “man without hair” or sometimes referred to her as two people. My mother had non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma and had taken treatments that caused her to lose her hair. He did not remember my mother’s name and for the last few years of her life did not say her name. This was ironical since all of my childhood and adult years; I would hear him say her name thousands of times. “Marina, where’s my coffee”, “Marina, get me a glass of water”, or “Marina, have you heard from the kids?” You see my father was totally dependent on my mother to take care of things, always.

My mother was a woman who for fifty-nine years cooked special and delicious meals for my diabetic father. This was a woman who served my father coffee in bed every morning of their married life. I do not know of anyone as selfless as my mother. She was his second “mother”, his partner in business, his love, and his caregiver. How could he forget her name?
My mother would get very frustrated and her feelings would get hurt when he wouldn’t say her name. Can you imagine your spouse forgetting your name after you have devoted a lifetime to their well being? It didn’t make sense to her. It didn’t make sense to me or my siblings.

In his state of dementia, you never knew when he would be in his “zone” or in reality. He always recognized my siblings and me, for which were very thankful. We asked if there was any medication to help his memory but there was only Alzheimer’s medication which was prescribed and he took but it did not help. There was no medication for dementia.

My mother never gave up, even when she saw no improvement in my father’s condition. When I called my mother on the phone, she would ask me to talk to my father. She wanted him to have conversations with people to help stimulate his brain. We did not know at this time that my father was having small strokes that were deteriorating his brain. My mother tried to get him to remember things. Again, we didn’t know at the time that one of the worst things you can do is try to force dementia patients to remember things. She could not take care of my father’s problem which was impossible for her to accept.

My mother had great difficulty coping with my father’s dementia. Sometimes he acted normal and other times he was like a stranger. The ups and downs of dementia is what my mother contended with hourly, daily -- for nearly two years, until her death.

How do you take care of one parent who is dying while taking care of the other who has dementia? Which one needs the most attention? How do you tell your mother to be logical, not to be so emotional when her heart is breaking? What could I have done differently?

Visit http://www.thecaregiversvoice.com/blog/blog/ to read more articles about dementia.