The Foreboding

My girls and I recently went on vacation for a week to the Jersey Shore. We really needed this time together. Each of them is beginning their senior year, with Adrienne in college and Emily in high school. I just had this tremendous urge to scoop them up and wrap a loving cocoon around them. For I knew that time would whoosh by and suddenly I would be waving goodbye to each of them as they headed off to their respective grad/undergrad schools.

The when or where of the vacation was easy. We have vacationed at Ocean City, NJ for years. We all love it there. In fact, several of this clan’s families have spent time in OC. The stickler for us was what to do with the dog.

A year ago I brought home a puppy. Finnegan, named after the family’s Irish heritage, is a friendly, lovable dog, weighing in at 18 pounds. A lap dog full of fluff hair.

As the most adorable member in this household, everyone just loves Finn. He has been especially beneficial for Mom. She has an object for her love and affection. And boy, does she heap it on him! Finn, in return, naps faithfully with her everyday. He also is a dog who loves to play, give kisses and quietly sit by Mom’s side as she does her crossword puzzle. In short, he is Mom’s therapy dog and our family pet.

Unfortunately, there are many times when Mom will let him out of the house without a leash. Or times when she ties him up outside and then forgets about him. Luckily, either I or Em catch Mom just before she opens the door without leashing him or hear Finn whining outside. Then, there are times when I have been away all day, only to find his water dish empty. None of this is terrible, since its occurrence is sporadic.

Back to the week at the beach dilemma. Worrying about how Finn was faring at home, would not lend itself to a very relaxing time for me at the beach. It was finally decided amongst myself and my girls that we would have Adrienne’s boyfriend’s family take the dog for the week. For several days I told Mom the plan, explaining that they are trying to convince their dad that a dog would be great to have around the house. Each time Mom said OK, but the sadden look on her face just about killed me. Still, I persevered. I didn’t want to worry about the dog all week. I know, I am terrible. I totally sacrificed Mom’s love for the dog for my sanity. I didn’t know any other way. I felt horrible. Even writing this now, I still feel guilty. Shit!

When it was time for Finn to go, I was out running last minute errands for the upcoming week. By all accounts, Mom was pissed, sad and totally confused. At one point she said aloud, to no one in particular, “No one asked me about this!”. Double shit!!

Mom called me several times during the week to ask where Finn was staying. She was convinced that Finn was staying with the parents of one of my friends and they lived up the street. I would explain to Mom where Finn was and that he would be home by Saturday. We live on a hill that ends in a school parking lot. I had visions of Mom wandering around the top of the hill, looking for Finn. My guilt was working overtime.

Upon further thought, I realize that this is only a preview of things to come, should Dad pass away before Mom. She fretted about the dog – a dog, for crying out loud! I can’t imagine how bad it is going to be when Dad dies. My fear is that she won’t have the mental capacity to fully process his death, her mourning and be able to move forward. When your partner of 55+ years passes, moving forward is extremely difficult, in the best of circumstances. In Mom’s case, I doubt it will ever happen. With that, I fear that she will slide into a downward spiral like an inverted tornado, turning her world into never-ending confusion and loss as widowhood whips around her.

I don’t dwell on this image – much. It exists in the dark corners of my mind, a misty air laden heavy with anticipatory grief. I shake it off, for the most part. On days when Dad’s face is completely drained of color, he gasps for breaths and appears confused, a foreboding feeling rises from the murky sadness; I quickly tamp it down. Mom doesn’t notice Dad’s decline, as much. I don’t mention it. It will happen one day. There isn’t any sense in having both of us worry.

Until then, and I pray “then” is a long ways off, I just keep taking it one day at a time in this house where confusion is the norm. I look for the rays of light from God, energizing my soul whenever possible.

Peace,

JaneEllen