I feel at this time I must say to all of our readers that you have no idea how much you help us by commenting on the blog, or sending us personal emails through the “contact us” link. You all give us the strength to proceed through today and the next day.
I’m so glad I started this blog…it was such an unplanned accident. It started out as a Christmas gift for Hubbie to play with because I know how he loves to write. As with most Christmas presents, it was politely received but not used. So I thought I’d keep it up just in case he decided later to get interested; after all, I had spent a few hundred hours trying to figure out how to post, edit posts, insert photos, all that stuff that with Blogger there are very scant directions. I chased all these things down one by one, even to the point of attempting to learn HTML code….just to find out there was a much easier, simpler ways to accomplish the same things.
Hubbie, I think, - it is a blur to me - had the thought of writing about Lewy. He says I thought it up, but I think he planted the idea, if indeed I did actually move on it first.
I guess what I want to say is; how much we appreciate the comments and letters. I’m going to post one of the letters (with permission, of course), to say thank you and let you know we realize most of you have your own Lewys, that are either right where we are, are approaching, or have reached the final stage of life and departed this world.
Letters:_______________________________________________________
Stella,
You sure have your hands full. For me, having Daddy at the NH was the hardest of all. Selfish reasons, like it kept me from doing anything other than dressing driving sitting and driving. Not very productive. I'm so glad you have a large family there with you.
Unfortunately, you are correct, you must be your patient's advocate. I wonder if the patients would get anything other than minimum required care (if that) if there were no family member bugging the staff to do more.
We are rocking along pretty well here. I may be settling down into the realization that Daddy will be gone soon and I need to not fight that. It just goes against my grain to let it happen though.
Then logic kicks in, and I know he is miserable.
I want my Mommy.
Pauline
_____________________________________________________________
Pauline,
Of course, your want your Mommy. You need your Mommy, but you have the next best thing. You have her teachings. You could not do what you are doing without her life as an example. She had her hands full keeping her little family on the straight and narrow. I'm not sure it always worked with the rascal, Daddy, who loved to "get her goat" with his teasing. A family spending years together creates such a wonderful mural of life. At the time it is being painted, it appears to be bits and pieces of color. A picnic here, hard work there, surely it will go on forever.
No, it constantly changes, and sooner or later it is finished. Looking over the lovely work, all the episodes blended together, the rosy pinks are prominent with the darker colors in the background. The dark colors fade and disappear, leaving the happy memories. Right now you are painting with dark blues and grays. They are important to the finished work. Be proud of your work. Mommy would be proud. She would say, "Well done, my child".
Stella
_____________________________________________________________
All I could do was cry. Every time I read that I loose it. Stella, your letter was wonderful! Thank you so much! It was as if you knew my Mother was a painter.
Pauline.
4 comments:
Stella said...
Ahhh! The last sentence makes me feel like an angel talked through me. I am so honored to be mentioned in your BLOG. That was fun. Thank you.
old friend said...
Stellas' words reminded me of this Corrie Ten Boom poem I have carried with me for most of my life...My Life is but a Weaving
My life is but a weaving
between my Lord and me;
I cannot choose the colors,
He worketh steadily.
Oft times He weaveth sorrow,
And I, in foolish pride,
Forget He sees the upper,
And I the under side.
Not 'til the loom is silent
and the shuttles cease to fly,
Shall God unroll the canvas
and explain the reason why.
The dark threads are as needful
in the Weaver's skillful hand,
As the threads of gold and silver
in the pattern He has planned.
He knows, He loves, He cares,
nothing this truth can dim.
He gives His very best to those
who leave the choice with Him.
What a blessing to have a circle of caring people joined together, like a triple braided rope...STRONG unbreakable!
pauline said...
Ye shiver me timbers - OLD friend.;-}
Hubbie said...
Oh My God Stella!! Pauline had not shared your e-mail with me before. It is one of the most beautifull things that I have ever read. Make that THE most beautiful. Thank you so much.