Tag Archives: my father

Aiming for a Better Me

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August 10th morning coming down. Seems like summer made a sudden departure and we are left in the cool. It is grey and cool. I don’t feel an urge to pick up my heels for my morning walk. Instead, I’ll do my walking on the keyboard for awhile. I am making a conscious effort of not being a gerbil on a wheel. I’ll see if I can break some bad habits and become a better happier version of myself.

Beginnings of anything is the hardest part. I’m feeling stuck already. The thing I can/should do is to pay my house insurance. It is due on the 15th. I have a hot pink post it note to remind me. I’ve just taken time to make said payment for the insurance online. It took only minutes. That little initiative led me to change the bed linen and toss it in the laundry. While I was at it, I thought I might as well dust the bedroom. Having done all that, I felt a need to reward myself with a coffee.

On second thought a morning walk would be a better reward. A walk could loosen that stuck feeling, burn some calories and boost my mood. So that was what I did, my daily walk to the mall. While I was there I bought some B.C peaches and a bag of pluots. You may wonder, what the hell are pluots? They are a cross between a plum and an apricot. I haven’t tasted them yet. I’m hoping for delicious.

Now at the end of the day, I am waiting for my supper. I am pleased with my performance. I blanched and froze more beans, harvested some bitter melons, cucumbers, squash and 2 cherry tomatoes. I visited my father to see if he is ok. My sister had reported that he complained of a sleepless night because of his heart palpatations. I took the guy along so we can say we want to harvest the garlic planted in his garden. I do not want him to give him undue attention.

When we got there, I could see he had been out weeding in the front yard. There was clumps of dandelion strewn here and there. I could not find him in the house. When I went to the back door, I could see him standing on the step looking fine and perky. I made no big deal about it. In fact I made no mention of it. I did not ask about his night or his heart. But of course, he had to tell me. I told him I couldn’t sleep either. I reminded him his heart thing was nothing new and if it wasn’t too bad…..

I left it at that. I did not reprimand him or remind him that he said he was not going to go out ever again after he said he fell. He will do what he will do. All the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t hold him back. I have to be smart, not to waste my energy and lose my temper and mind. On the last drive to ER, I did wonder what would happen if I was to have a heart attack even if the guy was driving.

There’s a Crack in Everything

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It’s July 31, the last day of the Ultimate Blog Challenge. Cooler breezes prevail. I can feel a change in the air. I can feel a cascade of emotions within me. No optimism, no joy, just a sense of sadness for all the cracks that are present in our world today. It makes me think of Leonard Cohens song Anthem. It’s true that the crack is where the light gets in. Equally true, it is where the darkness comes in, too.

It’s good to remember to ring the bells that still can ring and forget about the perfect offering. And I like to remember to smile the while when I can. Good things still exist. I made a good run at this July UBC, missing only one day. That was the day when I had to take my father in to Emergency in respiratory distress. He has recovered remarkably well for a 95 year old. He continuous to be his old mischievous self, getting into trouble unnecessarily.

Just a few days after getting over pneumonia, he has to truck down to the basement to cut his hair. Yesterday morning at 8, he went outside and a tumble on the front lawn. No serious injuries except painful ribs on coughing. He’s not confused. He’s been warned not to do these things many times. It’s just who he is. I’m almost over getting angry at him because it is a waste of my energy. I’ve just made another trip over to see how he is. He is ok, not owning up, of course. He is always very clever at explaining. Those incidents are what are called accidents. How can you argue with that?

I do understand the elderly. It helps to read this post about how Clint Eastwood feels about getting old. Whether he wrote it or not it rings true. I wonder how I will be when I get to be 90. I hope I can participate in the UBCs That’s something to aim for. LOL. Thank you, Paul for hosting the challenges. Thank you everyone for writing and reading.

Anthem – Leonard Cohen

The birds they sang
At the break of day
Start again
I heard them say
Don’t dwell on what has passed away
Or what is yet to be

Ah, the wars they will be fought again
The holy dove, she will be caught again
Bought and sold, and bought again
The dove is never free

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in

We asked for signs
The signs were sent
The birth betrayed
The marriage spent
Yeah, and the widowhood
Of every government
Signs for all to see

I can’t run no more
With that lawless crowd
While the killers in high places
Say their prayers out loud
But they’ve summoned, they’ve summoned up
A thundercloud
They’re going to hear from me

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in

You can add up the parts
But you won’t have the sum
You can strike up the march
There is no drum
Every heart, every heart
To love will come
But like a refugee

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in

That’s how the light gets in
That’s how the light gets in

Whining and Sighing

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An already hot morning at 10:30 on this day 23 of the Ultimate Blog Challenge. I am on the brink of giving in to the everythings of this world. I haven’t quite fallen in. The sun is unbearably hot with less ozone protection. Researching, I find that Canada’s and the northern regionss ozone have thinned by an average of about 7% since the 1980s. Supposedly the ozone layer is healing. Truth or fake news? Our planet seemed to be heating up every year.

I’ve discovered that cucumber male flowers can become sterile due to heat. My plants in the greenhouse are full of male flowers, more than the female ones. I have pollinated the girls and yet besides the one cucmber we already ate, none came to fruit. So I’m guessing that the males must be shooting blanks. They can recover with cooler weather. If heat can do this to cucumbers, what does it do to us and all living things? Is this not a signal for us to change how we are conducting business on this earth? We can’t eat the greenbacks. Why don’t use them resuscitate this one earth we have?

I probably should stop reading the news. It makes me more melancholic than my natural melancholic self. There’s no fun or use in it. It’s not something I want to bring to the keyboard. I have to pull myself up by the bootstrap, snap out of my old mold, crack the whip and do whatever I have to do. I have to admit that I am a little buried under a little pile of mental overwhelm. Life seems to have no rest stops when you have a 95 year old father. Not complaining. It is what it is. It is not at all the physical thing. He is very low maintenance. It’s the emotional and psychological components that weighs on me.

Enough whining and sighing. Time to get on with the rest of the day. Not sure if my father is being discharged from the hospital today or tomorrow. Will find out soon enough. My brother is there now and he will let me know. Good to have younger siblings. They have more energy and reserve.

ERS and Honeymoons

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July 21, day 21 of the Ultimate Blog Challenge. I spent yesterday morning in ER with my father. I got his frantic call at 5:30 in the morning. He was having respiratory distress. The guy and I rushed over. He lived just half a block away. We got to RUH ER in good time despite the construction mess enroute. I wheeled my father in though he protested he could walk. It was a eery experience. The place was empty except for 2 security people. I wondered if I had come to the wrong place.

The whole waiting room was empty. It was as if God had cleared the place for us. The staff ushered us right into the trauma room after obtaining a few vital information. The doctor introduced himself to my father and then to us. Then the team proceeded treatment and tests. He was stablized in a short time and moved to an observation room.

This time around the ER experience felt like a honeymoon. It lasted only till late afternoon. The nurse came in and took off all monitoring gizmo and said my father was going to be moved to a hallway. Someone else need the monitoring more. I followed her as she wheeled my father on the stretcher through hallways packed with people. We finally stopped in a hallway by the pediatric surgery. Patients on stretchers were parked along one side of the hall. No curtains, no oxygen outlets, no bathrooms in sight. Call bells were the silver round things on bedside tables you ding for help.

Lucky that my father seemed to be calmer in the hallway than in the observation room. Maybe he felt better seeing he’s amongst other people. He’s been in these situations a few times in the last 2 years. I dare not to ask too much of the nurses seeing how stressed and busy they were. I, too, have learned to adapt. I do not tell them I am a retired nurse. I just observe and listen. And what I noted is that some of them do not take the time to talk to me properly and completely. I let it all go. I’ve learned that there is nothing to gain and quite alot to lose.

I do wonder how I would fare working in their conditions now. I am happy I am not. This nurse was a nurse but not always a nurse. I was grateful that my father got moved out of the hallway into a private room in the evening. The honeymoon resumes. He is doing much better. Home in a few days.

Large Coffee, One Cream, One Sugar

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Sometimes it is hard to believe that it is a little over a year since my mother passed. I wonder where she went. When I think of her, I see her as she was, vibrant and alive. She is just somewhere else. Life and love are still here. We are calmer, more at peace. For my father and me, we are still doing coffee most afternoons at the mall. I would go over to Tim Horton’s. They know me now and what I want. Every day it is large coffee, one cream, one sugar. Sometimes I get some Timbits. Surprising how comforting this habit of coffeeing is.

It really wasn’t my intention to do this. My siblings and I were not really close to our father. Our mother was the nuturing one. My father was like most Asian fathers of his generation. He brought home the bacon and left the family stuff to our mother. She took care of everything else. But with her gone, we couldn’t really just leave him at 93 to fend for himself. We pitched in to make sure he was safe.

I couldn’t do much after falling ill and losing my hearing. I told him not to call me because I wouldn’t be able hear. He understood and was very supportive. He said not to worry about him and to take care of myself. When I was recovering and could hear a bit, I dropped in on my walks for a short visit and a coffee. Last year was a long winter for both of us. He was mostly housebound. I was mostly deaf with alot of incessant bad music in my head. I did alot of walking to distract myself and also to hear the crunch of tires on ice from the traffic.

When summer came I tried walking with my father outside. The sidewalks were too rough and uneven for walker or wheelchair. Besides the weather was unpredictable – too windy, hot, cool. The mall was the perfect place for a walk and things to look at and discover. It was much easier than sitting at home with him. After awhile, I ran out of things to talk about. At first it was mostly just the two of us at the mall. It was ok. It was restful. It was my coffee break. Things evolve. Now some days we have a small group, some old friends and some new ones. I like to call it our Chinese Happy Hour. Some days I go home drunk with happiness from a large coffee, one cream, one sugar. I split it with my father.

Working in Stuck

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It’s occurred to me to keep a diary of this period of being stuck in stuck. Perhaps it will help me inch my way out of it. So far I’m not having much luck. I’m still wallowing round and round, going nowhere. But at least I’ve tapped out a couple of sentences here. Oh, yes, I did ordered some cheques from the bank this morning. I was surprised that the cheques and delivery are free. Isn’t that wonderful?

The thing that I haven’t failed is taking my father out for coffee every afternoon. How can I not do that, eh? He is 94 and has never, ever been alone till my mother passed away last October. It’s a miracle of some sort that we’ve muddled through a year without her. Today I realized I’m happy that she is free of all her physical pain and earthly cares. It lightens the load that I have felt for many years. I feel a peace of some kind. Maybe now I can start to sort and weed the clutter in my head and elsewhere.

Some people are surprised that I can take my father out every day. It is really not a big deal. I am happy that I am able to give him a couple of hours a day. I do my other stuff before and after. I look at it as my afternoon coffee break. I get to spend some time with him and see how he is managing. It settles my mind and I can sleep at night. I also get to know him a little better. He is like his generation of Chinese immigrant fathers.They work and work, leaving the nurturing to the mothers. I’m not complaining or criticising. It’s just what it was.

I’m feeling a little less stuck. Sometimes it helps to talk on my keyboard. Some things get loose and unstuck. Supper is almost ready. Time to eat. It’s goat tonight.

Sunday Morning Chatter

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A cool grey Sunday morning. We turned the furnace on. It rained most of the day yesterday. Our water catchments filled to overflowing. The garden is quenched. I am feeling relaxed. The sun is trying to shine through the clouds, casting a pale light before disappearing again. I am trying to move forward though I am still living in sweat pants. Why not? They are soft and comfortable with deep pockets. I have no fancy places to go to.

I will head out to the greenhouse later this morning. It’s time to take down the snowpeas and give the space over to other plants. Though there are still peas coming, some of the leaves are turning yellow. The aphids are at them. Taking them down might rid the aphids. I still have a sweet one million tomato waiting as well as 2 bitter melons. I will try out a couple of brussels sprouts as they will grow too tall for the covered raised bed outside. There’s less chance of cabbage butterflies visiting the greenhouse.

My days are always busy. There’s always the yard and garden. There’s my father to visit. It’s a routine now to take him to a mall to walk and have a coffee. On days when we miss, it doesn’t feel quite right. I would feel fidgety with discomfort. It’s strange how we didn’t have much of a relationship till now, after my mother died. I gave all my love and attention to my mother. Maybe it is the times and their generation. It’s the mothers that did the bonding and nurturing. Then there’s the fact that we’re immigrants. My father left China when I was a baby. I didn’t meet him again till I was 6 when we reunited in Hong Kong for a year. Then he returned to Canada. It was almost 2 years before our family was united again.

Life is a complicated journey. I think if we knew better, we would have done better. I consider myself lucky I still have this time with my father to hear his stories. The other day I found this book called What My Father and I Don’t Talk About. I think the book found me. Someone/something knows what I need in these times. It’s funny how these things happen just what and when we need them.

Tsunamis and Tidal Waves

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I am enjoying a bit of good energy and vibes this morning. It’s such a relief after yesterday. I have been warned about days where grief can hit you like tsunami or tidal wave. I am not even sure if it is grief. It came out of nowhere yesterday morning. I was hit with such a bad feeling. It was hard to swallow, think, to move. I wondered how I could carry on, breathe, cook, clean, write my post. I worried about my father’s health. He is after all, 93, the same age as my mother. I don’t want to be responsible for for his health/life. It doesn’t seem fair and I am a little ticked off at my mother for leaving us – and without a manual to guide us.

It’s a bit strange but most times I don’t feel her death. She’s just not here. And with her gone, I feel the many losses of our family. There’s no one to call me by my Chinese name except my father. I just realized that yesterday. It makes me feel somewhat heart broken. And there will be no one to ask or talk to about our home village and all things regarding our heritage and ancestors. My father still has a remarkable memory about all that though he has not been back since he left as a young man. I was drowning with all these thoughts and guilt on things I didn’t do.

All things do pass. I was able to get beyond my emotions and put one foot in front of the other. There’s life to be lived and things we have to do. No matter how we feel, we have to get up, dress up and show up somehow. Some days are better than others. Today is a better day. I thought out what I want/have to do and the best of how and when to do them. Progress is slow and minuscule. I see results and I am happy with them. I’ve been to the gym this morning, planted all the cauliflower and harvested lettuce from the greenhouse for lunch. I am a happy and relaxed camper.

the first year.

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A beautiful sunny Easter Sunday. I’ve been up and at it. It’s easier now that daylight comes by 6:30. I’ve pushed the dust mop around the floors. Been out to vote. Now sipping my second cup of tea, enjoying the sunshine through the windows and tapping my words for the Ultimate Blog Challenge.It’s getting easier, getting to be a habit, a ritual of a sort.

Today marks 6 months since my mother have left. In these 6 months we have muddled through Thanksgiving, Christmas and now Easter. We had our Easter supper with my father last evening. My turkey roasted according to Chef John’s recipe turned out perfect – juicy and golden brown. Though my father thought it was a little overdone, he had 2 healthy helpings. He did not remark on the 6 months but I am sure it wasn’t forgotten. I was happy to see he enjoyed the food, our company and conversation. Tonight we will have our supper with our extended family at a Chinese restaurant.

The Spotlight is on My Father

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I’ve hit a snag on day 6 of the Ultimate Blog Challenge. Instead of getting down to business and writing, I started to delete my media library. One thing led to another. I couldn’t stop until it was emptied except for a few favourites. So I’m trying to stay calm and not scramble to find a few words. My advice to myself is stay with the program. Make it simple. Make it easy.

I’m taking Paul Taubman, our digital maestro’s idea of spotlighting a person in my life. So the spotlight is on my father. I took him out for coffee this afternoon. Since my mother passed in October, I’ve been trying to spend more time with him. It’s the first time he’s ever been alone. It’s a hard task at 93 years old. He had a few rough spells in the beginning, requiring a hospitalization. Now, it’s a few doctor’s visits once in awhile.

He’s doing remarkably well. He still lives in his own house and cooks for himself. We help him with groceries, housework and snow shovelling. We visit, take him on outings and meals sometimes. He plays Majong on his iPad, reads Chinese books I get from the library. He dresses and bathes himself. Uses cane/walker. He gets lonely for mom, of course. When he gets down, I remind him how remarkable he is, that he’s doing all these things. I remind him, too, that he is continent of everything, not peeing or pooping his pants. He laughs and things pass.