Saturday, March 26, 2011

What Would Hallmark Say

Faced with the need to express love and care to my father's wife, living alone (well, with a cat they seemed to have a hate/love relationship with) after my father suddenly passed away... a month after their daughter died of cancer. I've spoken with her twice in the last year - once was the call where she told me my dad died and not much else. The other was to affirm I'd received the boxes of stuff she'd mailed to me. She said she had on the table before her two death notices - stuff was still not taken care of for my half sister when my dad passed. She made it clear she didn't want my help, and at  some point even sent a "have a nice life" note. But she seemed to enjoy hanging on the phone with me that night - we laughed a lot. What else can she do? Our relationship being as strained-at-best as it is, I'm a little at a loss for what to do for her... let alone the fact that even if we were close, what do you say or do for someone in her position? She's in the middle of nowhere, on the big island of Hawaii. They left Ohio for a parcel of land my dad had bought down there in the eighties - he explained "if i'm gonna die old and poor, it's not going to be in Ohio." They made a little world of their own, barely associated with the mad world abroad. Smoking cigarettes while watching hours of TV, pretending to hate the cat, cutting back the jungle from overtaking the yard, eating, and taking care of each other. My sister left Maui to move in with them. In some way I saw that as a similar"later, world" departure. One doesn't move to Hilo side Hawaii to meet people. Getting a job was a struggle enough. Her mom (the survivor) was diagnosed with colon cancer and was treated and seemed to be well. That alone blew me away. How did they manage that? It's like a 40 minute drive to the closest doctor. Then my dad's black lungs caught up with him and he "got old". Took meds for heart stuff, stopped smoking, and eventually got an O2 tank to drag around the house once or twice a day. Then Linda was driving to work one day and pulled off the road, sick. I forget if someone found her or what. But she had Leukemia. From then on my weekly calls with my dad were a scary and barely comprehensible list of updates - blood counts, treatments... And the thought of the three of them in that house keeping each other running was heartening and frightening at the same time. How could I not think of a "domino effect" should one of them die? I did think about it. I guess I never thought specifically about it. Linda passed before the holidays. Dad and Sharin fumbled through grief - i sent my dad links about grief I thought would help. Dad seemed to love our calls more and more. He'd ask 20 questions as soon as we got on the phone, every Wednesday after my boxing class. "How'd ya do? You using your legs for the power on those upper cuts, right? Are you on a bus? I can't believe you're talkin to me from a bus. That just blows my mind." (cell phones=a wonder).
Anyhow, this stoic little woman is in an empty house with rooms closed off - I'm not sure what room wouldn't be difficult to inhabit. The terms of our relationship are unique, and so my usual natural way with words is null and void here.
So I got out my scissors. Laughing at the earnest but seemingly feeble gesture.
For many years I labored over artwork and handmade gifts for them at Christmas time. My heart fell a year ago to hear that she (and my sister, she said) didn't like me. Hadn't for the last 10 years, since my last visit. I had no idea. I thought we were a happy family with limited phone time - that's why she'd so quickly pass the phone to Dad, or never want to jump on when he called me. This crushed me and sent me reeling on a lot of different  things - one of which was thinking about all that artwork. Was it all hanging, but disliked? Was it in drawers?
But I find now, when at a loss for words, it's what I've got.
I crafted her up a card. I hope it makes her smile. That's all. There's not a lot to say anyway. I just want to send her some joy if it helps another day pass less painfully. Maybe she won't like it. Maybe she doesn't want to hear from me anymore and will throw it out. I just kept gluing.

1 comment:

  1. keep your big heart open - just like the flower you created. And come to subrosa thursday @ Lizard so I can give you a big hug

    Big love

    Peg

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