Coma

It doesn't take a rocket scientist to realise that it could all end in a split second. One week before finals, two weeks before graduation,#3's childhood friend, a senior in the same Uni, fell off a roof and is lying in an Oakland hospital in a coma.
A beautiful young man, all of 22 years in a coma. #3's world has come to a complete stop.
It didn't seem right to tell her that she has to study for her final exams so I didn't. She has maintained a bedside vigil since the accident, her heart torn, her head heavy. This is not one of those occassions when one can trot out that old mantra 'This too shall pass', because it won't do here. So many others have joined her at his bedside, this is how comfort is delivered.

I don't have any words for her. I am not familiar with the language of this horrific circumstance, so I just ask her if she has eaten or rested. #3 tends to carry the world on her back, with all its barbs and ensuing blisters. She feels everything and for everyone. Rail thin already, she can't afford to not eat.

A ghrá mo chroí

I passed by her photo on top of the piano this morning. She's sitting on the arm of Dad's chair, her arm on his shoulder. It's a rare photo of her as she is smiling. This was taken just three years ago when #2 child was making the trip 'home'.

In three weeks, kidlet #3 and I will visit her. Things have changed alot for her since that photo - my father has been buried a year, and she has descended into, what can only be described as, Parkinsonian hell.

She misses him, and why wouldn't she? Being married almost 60 years would do that to a person. The clock on the kitchen wall clicks unbearably loudly.

Lately our telephone calls are peculiar. There are definite points in the conversation when it appears we've done an instant time warp. Not being the sharpest tool in the shed myself, it takes a minute or so to regroup and follow her. The leaps and bounds through time and place mean I have to pay extra attention and utter the odd "uh huh" every so often, so she'll know that I'm still there. I ask her questions about whatever she has brought up in conversation and prepare to be transported someplace in her response. I willingly go, knowing the day is soon to come when even these conversations will prove to be too much for her.

In three weeks, we will be face to face. There is fear in the unknown; there's also fear in the known.

I'm all verklempt

Jewish mommies and Irish mommies have a lot in common especially when it comes to our children. Don't get me started on my baby boy or you'll never hear the end of it.

This past semester, #3 child o'mine, has taken up putting pen to paper. Finally, someone in our family has inherited the Irish trait of wordiness. She's emailed me her stuff to proofread and it has been a joy to watch her try to eke meaning out of the words all jumbled up in her head. She's just a fledgling and I have to be very careful with the critique. I know that the Critic has taken up residency on her left shoulder and is eager to bend her ear at a moments notice. At the same time I don't want to molly coddle her and tell her the piece is great if it isin't.

She telephoned me today after class to let me know that her piece had been well received by both professor and student. I'm all verlempt, I tell you, all verklempt...

A Proud Momma

I gave birth. Again. My #2 childybawn called me, all excited she was. She has gone and written herself a blog. Yes, my lil gurl has become a blogger.
So, here it is:

http://glitzyandgf.blogspot.com/

Now, off with ya and read it!

I had to resort to cutting the waistband on a pair of longjohns to relieve the abdominal pain. Days earlier I received several warning signs. But, no, I didn't listen. Had to have my morning mug of joe. Not one, but two. Not weak, but thick as treacle. Serves me right. And the odd glass of merlot after a hard day in the salt mines.
I had to put those hot peppers into the salad. It was the greasy bacon that was the last straw, greasy bacon piled on top of my fake mashed potato (cauliflower) with runny eggs fried in the bacon grease.

Now, I have myself some ulcers and it's back to eating rice porridge for breakfast, lunch and dinner for the next week. And all because i didn't listen...

If there's a silver lining to all of this, it's that I'll probably lose a lb.

that which we are, we are

my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down;
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are,
--One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

(excerpt from Alfred Lord Tennyson, 'Ulysses')

Mother's Bag of All Knowledge

Nothing tugs at a mother's heartstrings like a call from her inconsolate kid who has just come to the realization that she may have bitten off more than she can chew in a particular university class.

The compulsion to talk and offer advice is a no no. I've watched enough of Supernanny to know that my daughter wants me to be her sounding board, that I should shut up and listen. So, I listen and because she is hyperventilating, I did deep into my Mother's Bag of All Knowledge to find the cure. We go through the breathing exercises on the phone together. She takes a sip of water and I listen as she delivers her dilemma in spurts. Sometimes I can't actually make out what she is saying. Because I know it is important to her to get it all out, i don't interupt her to let her know that i didn't quite catch all.

She repeats herself and then I prompt her to come up with a solution. Not a solution for world peace, just a solution on how to get through until Thursday and the midtem in another class. She knows it's not the end of the world, but to realise that you can't do something, and not for the lack of trying, is a humbling eureka moment. Poor thing. There is only one way out of this and that is straight through it. Sure, it will hurt. And then hurt some more.

You try your best with what ever God-given talents you have and then there are no recriminations.

I didn't have anyone to tell me that all those years ago. I'm not sure it would have made any difference to how I managed or didn't manage.

I tell my daughter now. This too shall pass.
It's not like your best boy was run over by a car, I tell her, trying to give her some perspective. When she didn't chew my head off, I knew she would survive.

She goes over what she'll she do - her plan of action. And while there are lots of loose ends, lots of unanswered questions, I know she won't be throwing herself off the Golden Gate Bridge today. Her voice has returned to normal, her gasping for breath has ceased.

Just another day at the office...