Month: November 2006

It wasn’t so bad

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We always went shopping together the day after Thanksgiving. So, after the reaction I had when I walked the mall in Florida, I was a little concerned. But, I have to say, it wasn’t so bad.
 
Maybe it was the crowds, maybe it was the bustle, or maybe it was because mom was helping me to know that it was ok, but I did pretty well, and even somewhat enjoyed the experience of the holidays officially starting.
 
One thing that this experience has emblazoned in my brain is that life is short. You need to grab the moments while you have them and enjoy them to the fullest. So, I did. And I did not feel alone – I truly felt that in some fashion, she was there with me helping me to move on.
 
And maybe it was the decision to buy an ornament in her memory. If you know anything about our tree, it is truly a compilation of our lives and the people in them over these many years. From dogs, to the muppets, to pink flamingoes, to bubbly bear, our tree is such a wonderful reminder of the people, places and experiences that have been important to us. But, I did not want a gravestone on the tree – that would just not make sense – instead I opted to buy an angel ornament (a picture of it is included in the most recent photo album I have with the last pcitures I have of my mother) and I just put on it mom and the date 2006. So there will be a reminder, but an upbeat reminder,  that she is now our angel watching over us and helping us in a very different way. And for those of you that know me well, there is not greater joy for me than adding something memorable to the Christmas tree.
 
So mom will be there now, our angel, now and for the future of our Christmases helping our days to be merry and bright!

The first Thanksgiving

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Ok – here is the way it is supposed to work. I get up first – I always do. It is hard to separate your work schedule from the occassional holiday. I make the coffee, flavored of course, (and this time of year it is always holiday peppermint), let the dog out, feed the dog and the cats and get the paper.
 
Once that is done, I slowly open the door to the room where mom is sleeping (she always does sleep-overs for the holidays) and burst out into song – Happy Happy Turkey Day, Happy Happy Turkey Day, Happy Happy Turkey Day, HAAAAAAAAppy Happy, Turkey Day. Mom always says "What time is it?", I tell her, and then we exchange Happy Thanksgivings. Then it is time to drink some of that wonderful peppermint coffee and watch the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.
 
Well, the routine was pretty much the same through getting the paper. But this year no song, this year no mom.
 
I have to say I am surprisingly non-emotional right now. Maybe it is because it really hasn’t sunk in that mom is not here. Or maybe it is because I have cried so much that the tear ducts are a little dried out at this time. It is so strange, the grieving process. You can be absolutely fine one moment and then zap, you are reduced to mish mosh.
 
So, it is Thanksgiving Day, a day that I was not looking forward to long before it actually happened. You see, I thought for sure that mom was going to die around Thanksgiving. I could tell by her condition that she probably did not have the strength to make it until Christmas, but I thought it would be just like her to give me my final challenge and see if I was up to the task – that challenge being trying to navagate a funeral and travel arrangements during the busiest travel time of the year. But, in the end, she gave me a reprieve.
 
So, today will be different in a lot of ways. I had anticipated spending Thanksgiving at the nursing home, sharing a meal with my mom. Because of that, Nick and I decided to forgo cooking a turkey and instead opted to go to a nice restaurant for dinner. Those plans are still on, and I am glad that they are. This way, our routine will be different this year, and I believe that will help in making the emptiness of the day just a little less noticeable.
 
So, Happy Happy Turkey day to all that are reading this. Take the time to be thankful for your blessings, and most importantly, take the time to hug and cherish your loved ones – becuase that is a gift that we are never assured and that can be taken away from us sooner than we expect.
 
Tomorrow, I will go shopping without her – and I think that will be even tougher. I pray that there is some way for me to feel her presence and to take comfort in that. I know she would want to be push to move on, and I know she would want my holidays to be merry and bright. I just need to keep telling myself that, and hope that it will eventually sink in. Now, it’s time to watch the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.

The final journey

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Before I go into the final journey, please read the blog right before this one. It would be great if you had words to say about my mom that you enter them into the guest book at the Funeral Home in Longmont that initally handled her arrangments – all of the information is there for you to click on to their website and enter your thoughts.
 
Now, it is all over – at least the easy part. I am beginning to realize that the hard part is only beginning, as I reach for the phone to call her and of course, she is not there.
 
I went to Florida a day early to close some chapters. You can see that I added a new photo album that has some pictures of the house that they loved so dearly and the mall that they always walked.
 
I met my aunt Jane (my uncle Vic’s second wife) and her daughter (Charmaine) for breakfast on Friday at the restaurant where they used to meet my mother for breakfast once a week. I had the opportunity to share with them the story of mom’s last days and it was very cathartic to do so.  Charmaine helped me find a restaurant for the meal after the burial – most nice restaurants in that part of town do not open until 4pm and she was able to talk a restaurant owner into opening sooner for our party. That was great – mom would have loved the place and would have approved.
 
After breakfast, I went to take pictures of their old house. They loved that house so much – it was their dream, and in retrospect, they lived a "dream" retirement for almost 20 years. As I was taking pictures, the owner of the house came out. I told him who I was, and he immediately said to me "Oh, you must be Euphrasia’s daughter " and I said yes. He asked how she was and how Nick was as well (Nick was the one who spent a month with her to help her move to Colorado).
 
When I told him about mom, he expressed his sympathy and asked me if I wanted to go inside the house. I told him, that if he did not mind, that I would really appreciate that. Well, life does go on, and I had to laugh because the house was very different from what I remembered.
 
This man and his wife were animal rehabilitators – they had 6 dogs, 7 cats, 6 birds, 2 racoons, and 2 squirrels all living in the house. He told me that when he saw me taking pictures of the house, he thought maybe one of the neighbors was preparing to sue him because of the complaints that he has gotten about the dogs barking.
 
They had added an additional screened-in area off of the pool deck to accomodate some of the birds, the two squirrels and the 2 racoons. You could smell urine in that area, and my first thought was, oh boy, mom and dad would really be turning over in their graves to see this. But, it just reinforced to me that life does go on, and that is the way it should be. It was their home now, and their home and their lifestyle certainly did not have to conform to my memories of it.
 
I was grateful to be able to take some pictures of the pool, and they are included in the new photo album as well that I just added to this site.
 
Saturday was a tough day, much tougher than I expected. I found out that I really had no desire to see my mother in a coffin, nor did I have any desire to touch her. Personally, I would have just been happy being there with her when she died and then having her taken care of in a manner in which I did not have to view it. What I saw was not my mom (don’t get me wrong, they did a fine enough job with the body) – it was just an empty shell – a well dressed stone of a person.
 
But, I could also see that the viewing was very important to my brother and the rest of the family that attended. The funeral party was very small – me, my brother and his wife, my aunt from Florida and her daughter and husband, my aunt and uncle from Georgia and my cousin, and one of my mother’s friends from bingo. Nick could not make it – with his lung problems, the doctor does not recommend that he fly at this time – so he handled the home front and I took care of mom.
 
We had only an hour and a half of viewing and then went to the Catholic Church (Light of Christ) where my mom and dad had been parishoners for 20+ years. That mass was very nice and it was officiated by a priest with a noticeable accent (I found out later that he was Polish, so it was ironically very appropriate).
 
At the cemetery, after the priest spoke, I said a few final words. I shared with the group the story of mom’s last week (which is included in some of the previous blogs if you want to read them) and the story of her death. Then we escorted her to the crypt. There was a curtain over the opening, and when we asked what it was covering, they said that it was covering dad’s coffin in the back. So, we asked if we could see it, and sure enough, there was his coffin. I immediately said, "Hold on dad, here she comes and I am sure the orders will start shortly", everyone laughed. We watched as she was put next to dad, and we left as they began the process of sealing the crypt.
 
And then, the easy part of was over. We had a nice lunch – I went back to the hotel and called my aunt (Sister Teresita) to let her know how it went, – went to a nearby mall to do some retail therapy and met my brother and sister-in-law later to watch part of the Ohio State and Michigan game.
 
Chapter closed. And in the words from the play Steel Magnolias – … I know that is true in my brain – I just wish someone would tell that to my heart… because the chapter is not closed, the essence of my mom is not gone – it is here with me, and now I have to figure out how to live with that and be happy with that.
 
As I went shopping, all I could think of was her words to me "Honey, I won’t be able to go Christmas shopping with you this year." and I told her that she would always go Christmas shopping with me, because she would always be in my heart. And yet, as I was carrying her in my heart through that mall, I was angry and I was sad, because it just was not good enough. I wanted her there, with me, hanging on to my arm like she used to, talking away about every little detail of her life and wanting to stop for some lunch or a glass of wine.
 
But she was not there, and it dawned on me that as I face this holiday season, she will not be there – and I have to figure out how to live with that, and how my life has to go one without one of the most significant influences and loves in my life. We shared a love for the story of the Christmas Carol, and all of the antics of Ebeneezer Scrooge – we loved holiday music (she especially the big band version of holiday songs) and I would play them incessently in my car as we travelled around doing our holiday chores. Right now, none of this brings any spark of joy.
 
She had to give me an early Christmas gift this year – the gift of helping her move on to her eternal life – and although that may be the most precious gift she has ever given me, I feel empty with that gift right now. I know I am being selfish, and that time will help me appreciate that gift even more than I do now, but it is my reality and I have to work through it the best I can.
 
When I was flying home, and just as we were making our approach back into the Denver airport, I swear I felt her touch my shoulder and I felt a calm as I came back to Colorado without her. It was hard to leave her in Florida and come back her by myself, but she belonged to dad much longer than she belonged to me, and I know dad was overjoyed to have her back in his arms.
 
So I am banking on the fact that they will do in death what they did so beautifully in life all those many years and that is take care of their little girl. Because Lord knows, she really needs it now.
 
I am taking this week off to get some things done in relation to mom’s estate and to take a little rest. Tomorrow I am spending all day at a spa and I am really looking forward to that. And on Friday, I will do what I have always done and that is go Christmas shopping. Yes, I am one of those nuts that actually enjoys going Christmas shopping on the busiest shopping day of the year. So mom, I am counting on you to help me feel your presence so that my life can go on -and that I learn that carrying you in my heart is enough while I am on this earth – and that I never forget and never stop feeling your love.
 
 

Euphrasia D. Drabik (1922-2006)

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Euphrasia Dolores Miksis Drabik (1922-2006) was laid to rest next to her husband, Edward Joseph Drabik (1915-1998) on Saturday, November 18, 2004 at Calvary Catholic Cemetery in Clearwater Florida.
 
Memorial contributions can be made to HospiceCare of Boulder and Broomfield Counties and sent to Ahlberg Funeral Chapel – 326 Terry Street, Longmont, CO . 80501. Please note on any contribution – IMO: Euphrasia Drabik.
 
Visit www.ahlbergfuneralchapel.com to leave condolences for the family.
 

It’s finally over… peace

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Euphrasia Dolores Miksis Drabik – born September 23, 1922 – died November 14, 2006. How do you even begin to put into the words this very special life. She was one of four children (the baby) of Apolian and Marcella Miksis (Victor, Genevieve and Bernice), born in Chicago and lived under very modest means on the south side of Chicago (a large Lithuanian stronghold at the time). She married Edward Joseph Drabik (1915-1998) and had two children, Robert (1947) and Janice (1951). She lived in Chicago until she retired with her husband to Clearwater Florida in 1982 and moved to Colorado to be near her daughter in 2004.

Mom, I miss you terribly already, but I am at such peace because you are not suffering any longer. I had two + great years with my mom here in Colorado. We went shoppping, went to movies, saw plays had regular ladies nite out dinners – and I was blessed to have had the opportunity to really spend some time with her after living far away from her for so many years once she and dad moved to Florida. She always felt I was going to follow them down there, but little Jan who always had a boat load of independence decided that Florida was not for her and lived in Chicago, Dayton, Ohio and now Boulder, Colorado.

I had never experienced a death before and so I was really not sure what to expect and how I would feel about it. Yesterday started with a call from Hospice. They asked if I wanted a nurse to stay with mom all day, because they had one available. I jumped at the chance, because I had planned to be there all day as well, and knew I would appreciate not only the company but the professional assessment of mom’s condition.

We sat all morning and chatted about mom. There were some changes in her condition since the nurse spent the day with her on Sunday, but nothing to indicate eminent death. The nurse was quick to remind me that those conditions could change at any time, and could change rapidly.

At about 11:30 am, the nurse suggested that I go out for a while and grab some lunch. I decided to do so – nursing homes are tough environments to be in when you are sitting at the bedside of a dying person.

I was just finishing when I got a call on my cell phone – some things appeared to be changing, they recommended that I come back. I got back relatively quickly, and to my untrained eye I could not notice any type of change. But they told me that her heart rate had incresed significantly and that her breathing was changing.

So, I sat by her bed and held her hand. I told her that she was the one who was there when I entered into this world and I asked her to give me a final Christmas gift – to let me be there when she left this world. I kept encouraging her to go, I told her daddy was waiting, I told her that I would be ok, and I told her that she should give in and be at peace. Over the course of about 20 minutes, as I continued to talk to her and to hold her hand, her breathing became more and more shallow. It finally got to the point where her breaths were so insignificant that it made me wonder how that little amount of oxygen could sustain life. Then there were a couple of more very shallow, very small breaths, and nothing. A tear streamed down out of her left eye, and it was all over.

When I came back from lunch, not only was the nurse there who was assigned for the day, but mom’s regular nurse, the hospice social worker and a nurse being trained to do bedside assessments. She had a room full of people, pulling for her to be out of her pain and wishing her a speedy journey to dad.

I have to say, although I was fearful of what to expect, it was the most beautiful experience of my life. My mom gave me the ultimate gift, and I will always be grateful to her for sharing her last moments of life with me.

Since last Wednesday you could see that she was accepting what was happening and preparing for the next phase of her life. On Friday she asked me what was happening to her. When I asked what she thought was happening to her, she said, "I’m dying", and I told her yes. With tears in her eyes, she told me that she would not be able to go Christmas shopping with me, and with tears in my eyes, I told her that she would always be able to go Christmas shopping with me, because for as long as I live, I will always have her in my heart wherever I go and whatever I do. She smiled.

On Monday I had both my aunt and my brother talk to her. I held the phone by her ear and they told her it was ok to let go. When she heard my brother’s voice, she opened her eyes and I got cognitive recognition. I said hi to her, and she very weakly and softly said to me, "I love you." Those were the last words I would ever hear her say.

Today we will finalize the arrangements and my last job is to get her back to dad. I can’t believe that it is over, and yet I am so happy that she is finally out of her pain. This journey was a tough one, but she handled it with grace and a positive attitude. I truly believe that until this last week, she thought she would beat this thing and walk out of that nursing home. She was a fighter until the end.

Euphrasia Dolores Miksis Drabik – born 1922, died 2006. I love you with all my heart, mom. And until the day that I die, you will live on in my heart. I am counting on you to be my guardian angel now. It’s a dirty job, but I know you are up to the task. Thank you for everything, mom. I will always love you.

Your baby,

Janice Marie

 

Could be days… Could be a week…

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We are in the midst of the dying process. I guess you could say that we have, since the end of June, been in the midst of the dying process but we kid ourselves that we have control and we look for excuses to lessen the reality.
 
But now, we are DEFINTELY in the dying process. Mom had a goodbye conversation with me on Wednesday. She thanked me for everything I have done for her and told me I was a good daughter. She told me that even though she was telling me she was ok that something was "weird" and that she knew she was dying. I told her not to worry about me and I told her that I loved her. I tried hard not to cry, but could not help myself. My mom cried at first, but when I started to cry, she stopped. When I asked her if my crying bothered her, she said no – in fact, she rather appreciated it!
 
On Thursday, I thought she was going to die. She was in a lot of pain and required much more morphine – the nursing home had to call hospice to get permission to raise the dosage. She was breathing irratically, and showed signs of apnia (not breathing for seconds at a time) but later in the day her breathing stabilized and she just sounded like she was sleeping.
 
On Friday she appeared much stronger but at one point she asked me what was happening to her. When I asked her what she thought was happening to her, she told me she thought she was dying. I told her that that was true – and if I could, I would spend all of my money to make her well again (if that would do it) and that I would give anything for her not to have to go through this. I brought one of her favorite movies – the George C. Scott version of "The Christmas Carol" and played it for her. She watched for a while and made mention of her favorite part, and then she closed her eyes and listened. After a while, she opened her eyes and told me she did not remember that movie at all (she has seen it dozens of times) – and so it becomes so apparent that her mind goes in and out.
 
I got there early on Saturday and the first thing she asked me was if I was mad at her. I sad no, and when I asked her why, she told me that she thought I was mad at her because I had not been there in a long time (just most of the day on Wednesday, all day Thursday and all day on Friday). I spent some time with her, but then left as I had a lot of stuff to do at home.
 
Today, hospice called and offered to have a nurse spend the entire day with mom to monitor her.They wanted to do it for a couple of reasons. First, they wanted to note when she was in pain to better be able to determine how to administer her pain medication. Second, they wanted to watch her to determine if they could somewhat speculate on where she was in the dying process. I really appreciated that, as the past few days have been the worst roller coaster ride I have been on for a while.
 
I cried so hard on Wednesday after we had the goodbye conversation, that my eyes hurt for the rest of the night. They hurt so bad, I had to put a cold compress on them for most of the evening. Then the next day, she is stronger. But I understand, this is natural, and her ability to rally will become less and less.
 
Today when I got there, she knew who I was, she told me she loved me, but she said some things that I could not understand. For most of the time I was there, she slept. And the nurse is going to call me this evening to give me an update on what she observed all day today.
 
I called my brother and told him to be prepared. I keep telling myself to be prepared – but I know I can’t. Every time the phone rings, I jump. I struggle with what to do with work at this point as so much is going on there – but this is my mom and the last days of her life. I just hope I make the right decisions.
 
I want her to be out of her misery and I want her back to where she was, but that cannot be. So I pray that dad will take her hand, calm her fears, and gently help her over to the other side – and then when she’s ready, that they dance like they used to.
 

Holding pattern

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That is what I feel my life is like now – on a holding pattern. It is obvious that mom is weak, but she has rallies and at least a couple of days this week she exhibited more strength than usual. But most of the time she sleeps and she really needs to be fed all of the time now as eating can become overwhelming for her, both from an energy perspective and an eyesight perspective (her macular degeneration has gotten worse, and she can’t really see what she is eating).
 
Yesterday I spent some time with her – I played some music for her and read to her. She never heard me reading to her although a couple of times she had her eyes open as I read. When I fed her her lunch, I asked her if she remembered me reading to her, and she said no.
 
Today, I went to see a movie. I called her this morning and she did answer the phone, but she sounded very tired, and she shows no interest in talking on the phone anymore.
 
I tried calling later and she did not answer. I called the nurses station and they said that she slept most of the day – that she had complained of pain earlier in the day, and they had given her some morphine.
 
After I went to the movies today (I went to see the movie Santa Clause 3), I walked around the mall for a while. All of the Christmas decorations are starting to pop up and things are starting to look festive.
 
For those of you that do not know, Christmas is my most favorite time of year – I just love the sights and sounds of Christmas, the tree, the ornaments, the Department 56 Houses, Santa, and all that. And  now I am struggling with the thought of Christmas – all the memories of mom and dad at Christmas, the Christmases in Florida, the times my parents came to visit me and Nick. My parents and I decided a long time ago that we would spend Christmas together. Either they would come to see me, or I them. We kept that tradition for 24 years – and now, I wonder what will happen this year.
 
I thought a lot about dying and the holidays – it is sort of like a baby being born – you cannot predict exactly when or what time (unless you are having a Cesearian). And I’ve thought about whether this is going to change it all for me – and I’ve come to a conclusion.
 
If mom dies during the holidays, of course it will be hard. But from then on, every holiday, I could celebrate her life and celebrate all of the good memories and times. Mom had a hard time at Christmas ever since dad died, but I am going to promise both her and dad that I will keep the holidays joyous. They both knew how much Christmas meant to me, and I know they would want it to remain that way and that they will just celebrate it with me in a different way.
 
It may sound like I am borrowing trouble, and I’m not really. But I see my mom’s progression, and I have a hard time believing she will be with us for the new year. But, believe me, if she is – there will be no one happier than me – if that is what is best for her.
 
So what do I want for Christmas this year – I want my mom to be relieved of her suffering and I want  her to be at peace – and whatever that means or how it all plays out will be absolutely fine with me. All I want for Christmas is what is best for my mom – that will be the best gift I could ever receive.