One Day of Memories

 

Social media has a fun addicting feature (like what isn’t addicting about social media anyway) that you can see memories on that date.  It’s bittersweet seeing how much my son has grown, the pets that are no longer here and even the people that are gone.  Personally, I have been taking this chance to delete many memories off social media because I don’t need to be reminded that they occurred.  The scars are
thick on my heart and that is sufficient.  Most of the photos were carefully edited and chosen to be posted and don’t tell the whole story.  For some reason today I looked on this date in my sent folder, in my email.  Now that was a raw moment. 

Two years ago, today I wrote to a dear friend that Palliative Care called me from the hospital.  My dad was in the hospital going through additional blood transfusion and other complications to his Kidney cancer. The Dr reviewed my dad’s health history with me, all that I knew too well already.  Again, the reminder of the past.  He had the job of telling me that there was nothing else the medical community could do for him.  He then told me that I needed to come into the hospital with just one of my siblings (Covid protocol was NO visitors at all) and have a meeting with my dad to convince him that there was nothing else to be done and find out what my dad wanted the end of his life to look like.  If my dad didn’t make a choice, his fate would be to die in a hospital alone.  His actual choice to make would be to go to a Hospice center where we couldn’t be with him (Covid rules) or go home to his apartment and have us kids assist as his hospice agents and the actual hospice team visiting 1x a day.  We set up a time for the following day to have the talk.    

Soon after the call with PC (Palliative Care), my dad called me and was extremely sad.  He said, “It’s the end of the line for me” and I could hear him crying.  Alone.  I told him we can create how that ending will look like and that I would be coming into the hospital the next day.  At this point no visitors were allowed in the hospital so he was surprised I was coming in.  Hanging up from that call was one of the hardest things I have done.  Just simply saying goodbye knowing he was going to sit and think in that hospital isolated from all of us for 24 hours.  When it was my mom’s end of life, also in that same hospital, she shut down and wouldn’t talk to us kids at all.  If anyone else visited her she would tell them her fears, her guilt for leaving us kids.  But to us she was silent.  I was able to say goodbye to her, but she didn’t say goodbye to me.  I think in some ways, I am still waiting to hear it.  Enter in Abandonment issues for life.  (sigh).

A few hours after that call with my dad, he received a call from his insurance company letting him know they approved him to go to the UW for a 2^nd Opinion on his inoperable kidney cancer. This gave my dad hope.  We knew the logistics were not on his side.  An initial consultation would be weeks out, then if they felt a surgeon would even take his case, it would be even more weeks.  At this point he was receiving blood transfusions almost daily.  He was losing more blood than the hospital was giving.  Again, since we were in Covid world, the blood banks were strapped, strained and depleting.  The PC team didn’t think it was acceptable to keep giving him blood when it was in short supply. 

For the rest of that day, I also had to work, be a parent to a struggling college student hours away, a wife, a dog mom, a sister and friend. I am pretty sure I failed in some of those roles.  But being the healthcare point person for an aging parent doesn’t have boundaries and doesn’t discriminate.  It is the world we live in now that people are living longer.

I posted a photo 2 years ago on this day.  It is the photo of my son in the 5^th grade and my dad.  It was after a brutal football game and my son was clearly defeated and my dad is telling him that he did well.  My dad always loved watching his games from 1^st grade flag football through college.  My dad supported him.  It is that feeling I try to harness in my memories.  Maybe social media memories aren’t so bad. 

Ron, my step dad

I was blessed to have a natural father, but also a step dad. My step dad, Ron, was the one that lived in the same house as me as I grew up. Each of them has played important roles in my life, at different points. It is almost as if the two of them were in a relay race, passing the baton back and forth as to who would parent me.
From as early as I can remember, Ron was in my life, as my stepparent. The legal marriage didn’t take place until I was 10, but he was present before then. Not many men would take on a single mother with four kids spanning over 10 years. Ron did. He opened up his home to us and we moved in. More than just food and shelter, he taught me values that would shape who I was.
Ron and I had a unique relationship. Being the youngest of 4, I didn’t have the experience of living with my mom and dad, as a family, like my older siblings did. They were divorced by the time I was one year old. Maybe that is why my relationship with Ron was so unique. He was immediately kind to me assumed the position of being a father figure.
I had never traveled outside the bordering states of Wisconsin, until at age 13, Ron took my mom, sister and I across the country to California to visit his daughter. We stopped at National Parks and scenes that every American should see in their lifetime. There was Yellowstone Park, the Old Faithful Geyser, The Four Corners, Wall Drug, Mesa Verde National Park, the Grand Canyon and countless other landmarks. We even stopped in Las Vegas for a few days. While mom and Ron did the casinos, my sister and I walked the Strip (which in 1987 was dramatically different than today) and lounged at the pool. We spent a few days in Los Angeles with trips to Venice Beach and Disney Land. Ironically, the day Ron passed away I spoke of this trip, in detail, to my husband, son and step kids. I vocalized my desire to take our kids on this same journey (minus Las Vegas!).
But more than just giving me the opportunity to travel, Ron was a father figure to me. With his heavy involvement as a President of the local AFL-CIO Union, he taught me what true Democracy was and how to achieve it. He was a member of the Madison Police and Fire Commission, which he used as a catalyst to encourage me to be a service provider, in ANY capacity I could. He stressed the more you give the more you will receive. He took me to my first “job” when I was 12. He volunteered at the Badger Football home games, doing the chains on the sidelines. He arranged for me to work the concessions, walking up and down the stadium steps yelling out “hot dogs, get your hot dogs here”. When I was initially embarrassed by the 20% commission paying job, he told me I should never shy away from a job because of what others would think, because in the end, it would only be my hard work and determination that would put $$ in my pocket.
Ron worked at “Ma Bell” for his career years. You may know this company as Wisconsin Bell or Ameritech. He was regimented in his schedule. He got up, showered, had breakfast, left for work, returned from work at the same time Monday – Friday. He was of the generation that you put your time in with a company and you will earn steady raise increases and job security. Thank God he retired before the 2000’s when the economy tanked and those valued employees were seen as a financial liability. I always valued his longevity and dedication to his employer and community service.
Every Christmas, Ron would address holiday cards to the Mailman, the Garbage person and the paperboy. He would give cash, as a thank you for their service. To this day, I do the same.
When it came time to think of college, I didn’t think it would be possible to go. But, Ron encouraged me and told me it would only help my future. He even assisted me in applying for grants and scholarships, which I ended up winning one through the Labor Union.
It has been said that Ron was “old fashion” or “stubborn” in his thoughts of a home, roles and responsibilities, work ethic and parenting. But for me, it was the foundation I needed to get through my youth with structure. When Ron’s stubbornness would subside along with my youthful defiance, there was always a hug from him, to assure me everything was OK and that it was OK to have different viewpoints.
I would be missing a key point if I didn’t mention that my mom met Ron through AA. Growing up with my mom and step dad was growing up with the Higher Power (HP) as my “god”. Ron referred to our powerlessness to addictions, and by asking our HP for guidance, we would eventually get an answer. Our religion was the 12 Steps. Our congregation was anyone touched by alcoholism.
When it came to primary discipline, asking permission or basic day-to-day life necessities, my mom was the primary go to person. Ron would never interfere, unless I completely overstepped my limits, which was rarely since Mom and Ron had a very open parental relationship with me. Almost like a fixture, you would find Ron sitting in his chair, in the living room watching TV, reading the paper or napping. I knew I could always sit on the couch and open up conversation and he would be attentive. It is then that we talked politics, school, National news and every other topic I would bring up.
I am not idolizing Ron as perfect. No one is perfect as a person or as a parent. But for me, he served a purpose, and helped form the definition as a stepfather to me. Thank you, mom, for bringing Ron into my life. Now that I myself am a stepparent, I reflect often on the core values he instilled upon me. What do I want to teach Jake and Cortney? What messages is my husband giving Noah? Step parenting is an endless journey. I am thankful to Ron for giving me the foundation to which I can build my own role as a stepparent on.
The baton has passed for the last time, as Ron has entered the eternal life in Heaven. He will be greeted by my mom, who will show him the importance of reaching down to Earth, every so often, and give their loved ones signs they are around us all the time. I am awaiting one of those signs. But if they are as subtle as the way he taught me values and goals, I may not see them so easily – but walk through life with them swirling around me all the time.