The Light of The Soul

I’ll never forget this week three years ago; it is burned into my head in a way that is not normal for me (my memory is not so hot).   But, in this case, I remember conversations, peoples’ eyes, specific strangers, but mostly, I remember my Dad for it was this week, three years ago, that my Dad passed away.

That week started like an ordinary week at that time.  The EMT’s came to my house to take my Dad for his Monday dialysis treatment.  He did not want to go.  As my Dad had become weaker toward the end of his illness, he still showed signs of his prior strength from time to time; this Monday morning was one of those times.  He was telling us he was done with dialysis and he adamantly refused to go.  My Mom pleaded with him, I pleaded with him, we argued with him, and then we cried together as they strapped him into a wheelchair and lifted the chair, with him in it, out of the house and into the ambulance and on to the dialysis unit. 

Not long after the ambulance drove away, my Mom received a call from my Dad’s doctor that my Dad wasn’t feeling well and that they were not going to do his dialysis treatment. Instead of treatment, they were sending him, via ambulance, to the hospital.  The doctor continued by telling us he did not see dialysis as a beneficial treatment for my Dad any longer. Patients have a way of telling the world when they are finished, he said, even in their otherwise not totally coherent state.  My Mom and I knew he was saying it was time to let him go, but this was not something we were ready to think about.

Once my Mom was off the telephone with the doctor, she and I ran out of the house and drove hurriedly to the emergency room to meet my Dad when he arrived.  I have already told the story of his time in the hospital that week.  We met with “end of life” specialists and listened more intently, with more awareness and openness than I would have thought possible.  The doctors took time and spoke with us about my father’s care and where we were in his treatment.  Once the decision to stop dialysis was made, after talking with my brothers, they could only keep my Dad in the hospital for a few days.  During that time, it was surprising how well he seemed.  With the nurse, we sang show tunes, with a hearty appetite; he enjoyed eating the foods he had been forbidden to eat for so long, (feeding my Dad carrots from his tray was unbelievable, he enjoyed every mouthful as if it was the most awesomely prepared cuisine!)  We watched the winter Olympics, he enjoyed visits from his grandchildren and he spoke on the phone to my brothers with clarity and strength.  It was as if he was getting better, stronger, as if he felt more alive than he had in years.  He was coherent, funny, and strong and for a few days it seemed as he used to be.  A lovely religious representative stopped by one afternoon.  She told us she was on her way to Israel and asked if we would like to give her a note of prayer to place in the Wailing Wall.  My Mom and I wrote a prayer of hope and gratitude, which she tucked into her purse and took with her to Israel. 

After visiting with the hospice organization near our home, we were confident with the people, not so confident with the surroundings.  Hastily, on the day my Dad was released from the hospital, we arranged for hospice in my home.  Our family gathered together that day.  My Dad was with all of us, and he even visited via Skype with my brother in Florida.  Before going to sleep my Dad said he loved us all.  At 3:22 AM he passed away.

That was three years ago this week.  Three years since I have had the chance to hug my Dad.  But, when I now think of my Dad, I usually don’t think of those last years, I remember my Dad when he was strong, my protector.

I don’t know, one way or the other, if the soul and the spirit are real or if I just wish they were, but last night certainly helps me believe.  As I said, this week marks three years since my Dad passed away, but yesterday was his actual Yahrzeit.  For those that aren’t Jewish, Yahrzeit marks the anniversary of the death of a loved one and it is tradition to light a candle in remembrance. The candle is lit and burns for 24 hours until it burns out; the flame is symbolic for the human soul.  This connection comes from the Book of Proverbs (chapter 20 verse 27), which states:  “The soul of man is the candle of G-d.” 

It is said that the flames, like a human soul, must breath, grow, change and fight against darkness only to eventually fade away.  In this way, the flame of the burning Yahrzeit candle reminds us that life is fragile and must be protected, embraced, and cherished while we remember our loved ones.

I lit my Yahrzeit candle for my Dad at sundown, as did my Mom, who lives with us.  My candle burned out almost to the minute of 24 hours.  However, my Mom’s burned for an additional twelve hours, keeping her room lit all through the next night.  My Mom insisted it was my Dad’s spirit shining his light for her. 

Unbeknownst to me, while her Yahrzeit candle was continuing to burn far longer than it should, I was having dream after dream of my father.  In my dreams he kept repeating three life lessons that he wanted me to remember.  I kept repeating the three in my dream, I would wake up, fall back to sleep, return to the same dream and once again hear the three life lessons.  When I woke for the day, the dream was still in my mind and as I showered I could recite the three life lessons, two of which I remember him telling me throughout my life, one was new and honestly something I don’t remember him telling me in real life.

The first of the three lessons is one he continually told me as I was growing up. He would sit with me and tell me how I could always know right from wrong when I was not with him.  He would say, “Always remember, if someone asks you to do something, think to yourself…could I tell my father about this in the morning?  If yes, then it’s okay, if no then it’s wrong.”  An easy and foolproof method of telling right from wrong that I think of even to this day, even knowing he is no longer physically here to tell.

The second was to always remember that ‘If you’re worried about money, you have no worries.’  He always said that because when really bad things happen, you don’t worry about money, so if money is what you are worried about, be thankful.

Now, the third…the third is something special that my Dad told me last night that I really don’t remember him telling me during his lifetime.  He told me to live life and appreciate the warmth, love and light that every moment provides.  Meanwhile the Yahrzeit candle my Mom lit to honor his memory was shining well beyond the normal time, illuminating her room and brightening her world.

Whether or not that was the spirit of my Dad, I can’t prove, but in my heart I feel it was, I feel him with me as I type these words.  My Dad, who sang Frank Sinatra songs better than Old Blue Eyes himself, my Dad, who was the life of any party and who told a joke better than any comedian, my Dad lit this house last night with his love.  I feel it; I know it and it makes me smile, just as he always did.

I love you, Dad.  Thank you for always being such a shining light in my life.  

Cleaning House ~ Cleaning Mind

My house is cluttered.  My brain is cluttered.  Just as there are rooms and rooms filled to the brim with useless, unwanted and unneeded accumulated extraneous things in my house, there is area after area of extraneous thoughts in my head.  I need to clean both.

Nineteen years is a long time to live in one house.  Fifty-four years is a long time to live in one head, especially my head.  Nineteen years ago, when my husband I moved into this house from our townhouse, we were in our mid thirties.  Nineteen years ago, my precious children, Lauren and Michael, were 10 and 5 respectively.   Life was so very different then.  I never thought those days would end.  They were so happy for me.  My children always got along with each other, they were so easy, they were so much fun.  From the time they could speak and could be reasoned with, they were the best company in the world.  Nothing made me happier than being home with my family.  Nothing.  That is still true, but the times when it happens are now rare, not commonplace, certainly not daily. 

Over these fleeting 19 years, I have accumulated so many things.  These items range from huge pieces that take up a ton of space in the basement; old bedroom sets and a no longer used foosball table to small things like newspaper articles, school assignments and outgrown clothes.  In order to move on to the next phase of my life, the empty nester phase, I need to get rid of so very much, but how?  Every item is packed with memories of shared times, laughs, silliness, and just the every day specialness that was that time.  Perhaps holding onto the furniture and the clothes, even knowing all the while they will never again be useful to me in my life, perhaps it’s a way of not letting go of the life that was.  The life I adored.  The life I miss.  The life I will never and should never have again. Wow, that was dramatic. 

Those memories of that time in my life fill my brain like the old furniture fills the basement; although I visit the memories in my head way more often than I venture downstairs. And, the memories in my head, I must say, are in much better shape. 

But, it is true. Those days of 19 years ago are gone, as they should be.  After all, as a parent I want my children to be self-sufficient, healthy and happy with their own lives, dreams, goals and opportunities, but, what do I do now?  What is my role?  I have always felt that my children are my friends.  I never remember having to “parent” them.  They were always well behaved, trustworthy, hard working and mature.  I remember hearing other parents complaining about how irresponsible their children were.  I never had those complaints!  As a matter of fact, I was the irresponsible one who would pressure my children to take a day off from school!  Yes, I would ask them to play hooky, so we could spend the day together!   I used to give them “personal days” like those earned at your job - after all, wasn't school their job?  When they wanted a day off, they could just use a personal day.  I loved those days so very much!!  But I remember them each saying to me, at various times, “Mom, I can’t take off today, I have too much to do!”  Oh my, they were always so responsible!! 

But, back to house cleaning.  You see how even in this blog, the clutter in my head keeps me from moving forward, just as the clutter in my house keeps me from moving to the next location.  I need to move on, in both instances.

By clinging to the unnecessary clutter in my home, I cannot even think about selling my house, a house which has been such a warm, sheltering home; a home that has kept us safe in the harshest of storms and has been a welcoming place for friends and family in times of celebration as it has been a haven of love and support in times of loss.  The carpet is worn from not only my aging dog, but also from years of having transports come to take my Dad to and from his three time a week dialysis treatments.  The wear and tear on this carpet, which so badly needs changing, is evidence of the way life leaves its mark.  There is no sense for me to change this carpet now, as my dog is very old and very ill.  He messes the carpet on what is pretty much a daily basis.  By all logical thought, we should probably think of what the next best step is for our dog, Popcorn, but I am just not ready for that yet.  I guess Poppy is another thing to hold onto, but he is a living animal that I love.  Do I have the right or the nerve to put him down because he can’t control himself like he used to?  How do I know when he is ready?  Am I being selfish keeping him here?

Meanwhile, the dog, the house, and my thoughts are weighing me down; they are keeping me in the same spot when everything else in my life has moved on.  I sit, night after night, day after day,  in this same spot, while everything around me has changed.  So, the spot may be the same, but it doesn’t feel the same, it no longer fits.  In order to find out who I am now, where this 54 year old woman wants to go, I need to clean house and mind. After all, it is not those things that are keeping me down, it is my refusal to let go of them that is doing that.

So, with that, I started small today.  I cleaned out, ready for this????.....  I cleaned out the refrigerator!  After all, it’s so much easier to throw away expired sour cream than a sweatshirt that was well worn by my son or daughter.  But, it was a start.  I cleaned the refrigerator, scrubbed the drawers, cleaned the side and then went on to vacuum and dust my children’s’ empty bedrooms.  I didn’t throw anything away, except the expired sour cream and some shriveled carrots I found in the refrigerator, but I started. 

So, three cheers for me today!  This was one small step for house cleaning, one giant leap for moving on!