Things Finally Work the Way They Should

A lot has happened since my last post.

Today I sit here in the diningroom of our new home. I felt a bit like Laura Ingalls Wilder the last week or so, packing up the wagon for the move. Even with the garage sale, numerous trips to Goodwill, and a truck from Salvation Army backing up to fill up in our old garage, we STILL have too much stuff. And the funny thing is, we still can't seem to locate essentials, like, forks, toothbrushes, socks and underwear.

But, we are here. And, more importantly, we aren't there.

So, dad had surgery in a delicate area of his body. It requires attention twice a day for I don't know how long and I am so not looking forward to dealing with that. Such is the life of a caregiver! It's not that I am bothered by the time it takes to do it, but, more that it is where the area is and how much it is going to hurt dad. I don't like to see dad cry, especially if it is something I have done. No fun at all.

So, there's that.

On the flip side of things, I am encouraged by Sam's furious painting. He has an art show tomorrow night and the pieces he has done are really neat. Maybe neat is not the word that he would like me to use, but, ok, they are interesting. There, better word, but, regardless, I like them. And, it is so great to see Sam happy, painting away...

I've been asked several times how it felt to leave the old house. 'Were you sad?' 'Did you cry?' 'Was it weird?' in which I promptly replied, 'No', 'No' and 'No'. I don't know why. I couldn't wait to get out of there. We didn't live in a hole in the ground or anything, just I hated it and what the responsibility of it was doing to me and my view of the world.

Yes, it was the last place Gordon lived but more importantly, he has been lurking around there ever since he died. Does that make sense? I dunno. I guess what I mean is it was crappy to go from room to room and remember sad things that happened in each room. It was a sad place to be, I have to say. And, for what it's worth, I've slept better in the last 6 nights here than I did there for many many years. So there.

And that leads me to the question: why do we remember the sad things that happened in a room of a house or whatever, and not the happy things that happened in that room? I do recall many family get togethers that were great, with people laughing hysterically at somethng a nephew or niece said or sister.... I could remember that. And, those memories do exist. But, why do we focus on the sad stuff? I guess it is a survival mechanism, like what my cat, Lily does when she ventures too far and sniffs around to see if she had encountered a dangrous situation before.... we are protecting ourselves, from future harm, by remember the stuff from the past that haunt us today.

So, tomorrow we start the Turn Over. Imagine several identical apartments, empty, with crumbs, dust, dirt and ickiness left over from energetic college students. I have a 'crew' of people helping me, including my own offspring, my best friend and one of his friends. It should make for some fun, too.

Now, it's time to vacuum.

Ok, one more thing: what is the story behind the guy in Lenexa that they found? I spent some serious time thinking, praying and worrying about this guy. He emerges from a trail, covered in bug bites and with alot of unanswered questions. What the hell? I'd be thrilled to see him, if I was his fam, but, man, oh man, I would be pissed.

So, there you have it, today, July 29, 2010.

Signing off.