Friday, May 29, 2015

Springtime Birds

Despite my hectic life these past months, I decided to return to filling the bird feeders.  I had stopped during the winter because rats and mice were appearing under the feeders and I just couldn't have that.  I have not seen those unwelcome visitors so far this spring.  But in case I do, I've purchased a system to get rid of the pests without harming birds or pets.  I'll wait an employ that if/when it's needed.

The feeders have been full of the usual suspects: House Finches, Cassin's Finches, American Goldfinches, Lesser Goldfinches, Scrub Jays, Chickadees, Mourning Doves and the annoying Eurasian Collared Doves, and California Quail. Also American Robins who ignore the feeders, but love the birdbaths.  Special visitors are the Lazuli Buntings migrating through, one little Yellow Warbler, Black-Headed Grosbeaks, and a surprise Western Tanager.  And bunches of feisty, competitive hummingbirds.  Wow, what a birdy yard it has been so far.  Here are a few pics:

Lazuli Bunting male
 Lazuli Buntings 3 males and 2 females. I had a couple dozen of these visiting and I put up four feeders of the white millet they love. The numbers are waning now, and I hope a few will stay throughout the summer as they've done in the past.
 Western Tanager
 Black-Headed Grosbeak male
 Black-Headed Grosbeak male

Saturday, May 23, 2015

A Passage - My Father

It has been raining for so many days in a row, I've lost track.  The last month has been a blur of events and emotions.  I've wanted to post something, but honestly have been unable to think of what I want to say.

My father died this month, May 8, 2015.  He had been hospitalized (twice) a little over a year ago, and we nearly lost him them.  He was left weak physically, on oxygen constantly, and initially lost nearly all his memory. It was not an easy year for him.  He gained a little strength and gained much of his memory back. Then plateaued for a number of months, living mostly indoors, mostly in his recliner, and frustrated with a life that was a sliver of his active productive past.  Pain was often a factor.

My father had a strong belief in an afterlife that is better than this world, and over the past year expressed many times his desire to be there.  At age 89 and with many health problems past and present, it was remarkable that he had survived as long as he did.

It was very noticeable when his health began to seriously decline.  He suffered a fall about 12 weeks before his death.  That may have been a turning point.  No-one can be sure.  His decline was slow at first, but became very accelerated in the last two weeks.  I notified all my siblings (there are eight of us) that dad was looking bad and declining fast.  Many were able to pay a last visit before those last few difficult days.

My mom was in denial that the changes were occurring, but one brother and one sister and I took charge and got the in-home help we needed including hospice.  On Monday we brought in a lift chair as he could no longer stand on his own.  Tuesday, we called in hospice who visited on Wednesday.  Wednesday morning dad had been able to walk to the kitchen with his walker. Within hours and while the hospice nurse was there, he lost the ability to walk entirely.  By the end of the day we had a hospital bed in the house and we had been instructed on administering morphine and end of life drugs.  Hospice nurses and aides are only with you an hour or so at a time, so we arranged to have at least one of the siblings at home around the clock.  After that, dad had little ability to communicate with us, though there were a few lucid moments.  Thursday morning, he distinctly said to me, "I know I'm dying."  He died Friday morning at 6 a.m.

It rained and rained and rained.

I arrived at his home at the same time as the hearse from the mortuary.  I held the door as he was brought out and stood in a light rain as he was taken away.

Then we were plunged into the frenetic activity of arrangements, funeral, burial, notifications, and the many details that all entails.  Utah funerals are big. Our extended family is big.  This was to be a big event.  I found myself somewhat in charge by default -- not by choice.  Mom was not capable of organizing things and others were too far away or, for whatever reason, unable to take a leadership role.  I parceled out various tasks, made numerous trips to Ogden, and tried to ensure we covered all the bases. 

It rained hard, with thunder, lightning and hail.  Sometimes driving was treacherous. I neglected my duties at my own home. But sometime during that week, Alberto and his crew arrived and made my yard absolutely beautiful.  My son arrived from Delaware.  I was at a sensory overload and aware I was numb and functioning on autopilot.  I had to keep going.  So many things still to arrange.

The final rites would be traditional Utah Mormon style.  The funeral and burial were to be on Saturday, May 16.   There would be military honors as well.  The funeral was at the church house, with a viewing the night before and again just before the service.  A private family prayer followed by the local scouts performing a flag ceremony preceded the funeral.  Talks, music, a life sketch, the funeral was very nice.  I couldn't help thinking how much of his life was left out.  But time only allowed for so much.

The drive from Ogden to the Newton cemetery is an hour in good weather.  The rain was pouring down in buckets.  I rode with mom in the car provided by the mortuary along with a brother and brother-in-law.  On the freeway that day there were numerous accidents but all of our group arrived safely.  The mortuary had provided a small tent-top shelter, but with a family numbering over 150 attending, it was not enough.  Umbrellas were shared around.  Still, everyone was soaked before it was over. It seemed all right.  It seemed appropriate.  Dad's 160-acre dry farm nearby was getting the rain it needed and surely dad would have been pleased.

A bagpiper played Going Home as the casket was carried to the grave site in that tiny remote cemetery.  A group of old war vets from Cache Valley provided a three gun salute, a final flag ceremony and presentation of the flag to mom, and played taps. The bagpiper ended with Amazing Grace.

The family quickly dispersed to the cars and drove to the local church where the ladies of that Mormon congregation provided a kind "compassionate service" of a lovely luncheon for our huge family.

We drove home in the pouring rain.  Said goodnight to mom and finally sitting in my own warm, quiet house, it was all over.

Well not quite.  A new phase of activity has begun. There are many things to settle.  More arrangements to be made.  And mom, at 86, needs some looking after.

But I will try to keep my trips to Ogden to once a week now. The grandkids will soon be out of school for the summer and I'm watching them full-time for three months.  Life has entered a new phase.

I don't find funerals and burial rituals to be effective means of saying goodbye or for closure.  I will have to find my own way with that in the coming months. Each day I awake with remembering all that has just transpired.  And I begin my own private process of absorbing, accepting, and beginning the "new normal".  I don't cry a lot.  I watched my father dying by inches for over a year.  I came to terms months ago that he would soon die.  I did not want to watch him suffer or linger in a state unable to care for himself.  I was glad I was able to be there once a week or more during the year to help mom and dad in whatever ways were needed.  My acceptance process has been going on for quite awhile really.

Today it is still raining.  I'm not complaining. After a terribly dry winter with almost no snow, the spring rain is welcome. My world is green and lush and growing. Things are blooming.  Life is moving on.  But things are also changed forever.