Back Home: Conversations with Eileen Day 106 & SOLT

Morning Eileen and fellow Slicers,

I am up and the home is humming.  Windows are open and my sad planters, filled with dead remnants of this crazy July heat wave are gone way too soon.   I do have some survivors and they are now soaked with life and trimmed down.

And  so begins the next chapter of my life without the early morning calls to my mom, actually the calls home continue but now when my dad answers the phone it’s quiet in his house and he isn’t passing to phone away to my mom.  He won’t be doing that ever again.

It’s been strange.   It was a whirlwind of two weeks from the time my mom took her last fall, was raced to the hospital, went through an operation on her hip and spent the next week fading away from us.  One week of visits to the new hospital near Middletown, sitting and watching her decline, my dad helpless.

And the whirlwind continued through the funeral, the Shiva period, the race to arrange the trip to Israel for Maya’s wedding,, pack and get on a plane just two weeks after the decline had officially begun. It was fast and I was strangely unemotional, just trying to keep it all straight, just the little things, like worrying about packing time, even though when it came time to fill the suitcases, I had no problem.

And the week in Israel with our whole family and the events leading up the wedding, time with Israeli friends and family from Tuvia’s side and of course the wedding event and it all felt… strange, for lack of a better word.  I watched my dad feeling torn between joy and deep sadness. He was treated with great respect but it was hard for him to take it all in, digest it because someone was missing.

And now I’m home without work this week.  Just time to be back with Tuvia and settle into life without my mom.

It’s the little, life things that hit you the hardest.


Categories: Conversations with Eileen, SOLSC 2012 | Tags: , | 16 Comments

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16 thoughts on “Back Home: Conversations with Eileen Day 106 & SOLT

  1. “…feeling torn between joy and deep sadness.” Those words say so much. “It’s the little, life things that hit you the hardest.” Your words ring so true. May the same little things bring comfort as time goes on. Thank you for writing it all down.

  2. But even in the midst of your whirlwind of anxiety and sorrow you recorded and wrote – all that immediacy and power is yours now to read over and remember and accept. You were so wise and brave to do that, my friend. I know you will find great comfort in those words – they captured so much that you will always have now about your mom, your memories and those last days.

  3. It is good that you were able to keep writing throughout this time. The memories of parts will fade and it will be a comfort to reread and bring some of this to the fore again when you have the time to properly grieve and rejoice and separate the two.

  4. It’s the little, life things that hit you the hardest.

    Thank you for sharing your thoughts and feelings. My father died over 13 years ago, and sometimes on Sunday afternoons I think “I should call him”, because I always called him then. Or in a sporting goods store, I see a fishing lure I think he would like. He has moved from a relationship of presence to a relationship of memory.

    Thank you for sharing your story. I am comforted by your words. Thinking of you today.

  5. “Strange” — not lack of a better word, but maybe, just the right word. Your last line made tears prick at my eyes. Offering you a tight hug through the computer, my friend.

  6. Wow – agreed. “It’s the little, life things that hit you the hardest.” So sorry for your loss. Let your memories live on forever through your stories and words and photographs!

  7. I have those sad planters too. My deck basil is long gone.

  8. elainekapperman

    Bonnie- Please know that you are in my thoughts and prayers! If you ever need to talk just give a call.

  9. IT’s the little life things that hit you the hardest….wow, is that an understatement. I’m so sorry about your mom…as Michelle says “Let you memories live on forever…”

  10. “I am up and the home is humming.” I had no idea what I was in for when I began reading this, but I went back to your first line. I was so touched by your honesty here and wanted to be reminded of what you said first. This line matches the rawness of what followed, life goes on around us. It hums. It is uncomfortable, different and strange. I am so sorry for all of those things, transitions no one wants to face, but you are. Take care and know that many are thinking of you.

  11. Your words are so true. My mom is lost and every time I leave her is hard because I know I am leaving her alone. The mother of a friend lost her husband 3 years ago and I was talking with her recently and she said it takes about two years. I guess the first is getting through. The second to acknowledge you can make it through? I’m only four months out so I don’t know. Prayers.

  12. Thanks everyone. Your comments make me smile and feel good.

  13. My mother in law used to say that “joyful” occassions of life will surely follow the “sorrowful” times; however, you have had them back to back in the past few weeks. Take care of yourself – and plant a couple of fresh herbs and flowers. Prayers.

  14. I’m so sorry Bonnie. Your description of your dad could be the one I have of my own – handing off the phone, enjoying the gathering but being so sad to be alone in the midst of family.

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