Write Off a Whole Year?

 

Never one to "write off" a whole, year, I'm the type that can usually find good in most situations. That was until September hit with a BANG! 

My birthday month of August had just passed. As usual, I milked every precious day of it. We took fun drives, went to Kennywood park with my son. I got accolades and nice gifts. Yeah, I'm one of those. I am a kid at heart who literally tries to enjoy the whole month no matter how old I seem to be getting.

September began quietly until the afternoon my husband got a bad case of the hiccups. He held his breath, he drank tons of water. Nothing helped. Finally I knew we'd have to go to the emergency room. Such an odd thing, but it had gotten a little scary.

While at the hospital, the doctor ran the usual bloodwork and it was found that my Jim had extremely low sodium levels. Actually, quite scarily low. He was admitted into the hospital and stayed for four days. I had just begun a new job a few months prior, so my days were spent between running to visit him in the morning, head to work for a few hours, and then run back to be with Jim at night. During this time, I also noticed my cat, Bella acting strangely. She mostly stopped eating and drinking, yet still seemed to enjoy my company. We'd only lost her litter mate and brother Rocco only two months before.

While Jim remained in the hospital, it took a while to get his sodium levels back to normal. Too fast would be dangerous. And they changed up some medications he was on, completely cutting him cold turkey off of some of them. It did not sit well. I saw changes in my husband that began to scare me. He exhibited signs of confusion and anger. I never thought to ask the nurses about the meds at that time. The hiccups had gone away with medication the first night Jim was there, but all the water-drinking trying to rid himself of them, seemed to have caused the dangerous sodium issue.

When my husband returned home, my stress level soared. His new medications and behavior were foreign to me and I had to adjust. My Bella cat continued to get worse. Working full time, worry for Jim and my cat, I was consumed with anxiety. I began to lose my joy and felt bitter and depressed.

We are praying people and that never stopped. Jim was nervous from all he'd gone through, and his neediness made me weary. I wanted to be a good wife and asked God to please, please give me the strength I needed. I also talked with God about my Bella. "Please Lord," I said. "It's too soon after losing her brother. Don't take my girl away from me too."

It took almost two months but little by little Jim's behavior changed for the better. He seemed to finally be adjusting to the new medications and lost his fear and confusion. But we had to make the sad decision to say goodbye once again to a precious pet. Only four months after her brother, Bella crossed the Rainbow Bridge. I held her in my arms while she still purred for me. My eyes were the last she saw, and my scent, the last thing she smelled before she slept. 

As Christmas approached, I felt grateful for so many things. The year hadn't been a complete disaster. There had been moments of fear and sadness, but just as many moments of goodness, joy, and answers to prayers.

As I write this, snow is falling heavily and so beautifully outside my window. Small twinkling fairy lights are on in every corner of my home. My watercolor paints, soft yarn for crocheting, and paper crafts beckon me. Jim sits nearby enjoying solitaire computer games. We are very blessed.

Halloween Memories

 Halloween has always been one of our family's favorite holidays, for we are all big kids at heart.
Take Mom for instance. The above photo is from last October twenty-eighth. I had been visiting for the day, and my nieces were painting pumpkins. Mom wanted in on the fun, and we gave her one of the bigger pumpkins and a few paints. Though I thought the design on hers turned out a bit silly and I'd grown frustrated of hearing her repeat the same questions over and over to my nieces, I never would have said a thing to her. She glowed as if painting a masterpiece smiling her missing-tooth grin and singing crazy songs; as content as my nieces were.

Back in the day, Mom spent plenty of time and money choosing really good candy to give away for the special night though much of it would end up in her belly, and we'd have to purchase new bags by the time the day rolled around. She would also help orchestrate the spooky porch and walkway to their house; every bit the "manager" as she pointed to where the gravestones should be, and the other assorted frightful objects.

I think back to those elaborate decorations of years past; I remember countless little children who seemed too afraid to come to Mom's porch to receive their candy until my son Matt would unmask from his Michael Myers or Samara costume, to show them it wasn't real. I remember Mom sitting outside in nicer autumn weather, a bowl of candy balanced on her lap as she greeted each child with a smile and a "Happy Halloween." Creepy music played from the hidden tape recorder stashed underneath the large bush.

My parent's house was the hub for many of our friends through the years to gather since the connecting roads and houses sat pretty close and walking always felt safe in the neighborhood. There was something magical on our Halloween nights. The air seemed to smell of chimney smoke, crisp, tart apples and the warm, cooking scent of jack-o-lanterns lit with the small stubs of candles on neighbor's porches. The swish of  fallen, crunchy leaves underfoot as we ran from house to house.

I think back to the time when my own children were small, and the Halloween exchange as we called it, with their bags of booty dumped out on the floor so we parents could check it over first. Then the trading would begin; each child finding their favorites to barter with. Countless haunted houses my brother and his friends fabricated in my parent's basement--all good clean fun!

 And was it all that long ago that my father walked my little legs off when I was a child; practically pulling me along to get more, more, more candy while I sweat beneath the old plastic Cinderella mask with its stretchy elastic band, hardy able to see through the small eye holes, barely able to breathe through the tiny mouth hole?

This year, the house is silent and partially empty. No creepy masked cement deer in the front yard, or yards of fake spider web stretched all over the porch and bushes. No porch witch stirring her plastic cauldron, no Styrofoam gravestones.

We will miss Mom during this holiday for we know how much she enjoyed it. I will miss the annual phone call I placed to her each Halloween from my home an hour away so that I could hear how their own night was going--all the fun they were having. I will miss the sound of the movie "Halloween" playing loudly in the background, and my father saying "It's all over but the shouting. Shut it down," as he switched off the outdoor light barring any late stragglers from knocking at their door.

I will content myself with memories; warm, cozy memories, and in my heart I will feel the love and fun in the Halloween legacy Mom left behind.