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Approaching the one-year anniversary of my mother's passing


silverkitties

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September has been a very difficult month for me this year--and not just because of professional pressures.

 

Traditionally, it's always been a refreshing month of sorts, if not mostly because there's the first real whiff of fall in the air (now that seasons seem to be starting later and later). It's always marked a new school term with all of the excitement that it brings. Hopes of new projects. A time to break out new fall fashions. And yes, the approach of Halloween: meaning more horror to watch on TV.

 

Last year changed that optimism so drastically.

 

It was last September when my mom's decline assumed a frightening pace--right up to her death on October 4, 2014. Not that we ever gave up hope entirely. After all, her CAT scan had shown that she had improved in some places, and deteriorated in others. When my cousin and her husband came to visit us in mid-September, she seemed happy.

 

Yet, it seemed strange to us that her red and white blood cells kept declining so markedly, even though she was still fit for chemo. That she suffered more and more severe stomach pains: not just once a day, but multiple times. That she could not see objects placed straight in front of her. That she could only go down the stairs with extreme difficulty. This was not the mom I had in February or even in May when she could still go up and down with ease, despite her stroke in April.

 

It was  on September 21 that she looked so uncomfortable and very cranky. Strange, because she seemed be doing much better the day before, a Saturday. She ate a good deal and I was happy. On Sunday, tempers flew. I threatened Mom if she didn't start eating or stop talking the way she was, I was going to call the visiting nurse. It was meant as both a threat and yet also as a possible life saver. After all, what if mom was about to suffer a stroke or heart failure? Finally, by early evening, I thought it was better to give a call.

 

Up till very recently, I still had (or have?) no idea if I did the right thing. The nurse decided she needed to go and so she went. My mom was furious at me--and also began to suffer severe pains and low oxygen. They put an oxygen mask on her which made her even more uncomfortable and I almost wanted to cry for her. One of the nurses came by to give her morphine. In the meantime, it was discovered that she seemed to have some masses around her lungs. They didn't know if it was the cancer spreading, or if it was pneumonia.

 

The next day, she was better but still seemed quite weak. We were relieved that her roommate appeared to be very friendly. In the next two days, as we had requested, my mom got moved to a single: this was partly so my dad could stay with her as it was clear she wanted one of us to stay with her. Since I was already spending so much time there in the daytime such that I wasn't able to respond to my students, we decided it was best for dad to be with her. 

 

The weekend of the 26th and 27th were beautiful, sunny days--sort of the eye of the hurricane. Mom was still somewhat weak, but she was eating more and seeming more alert as she wanted to be wheeled down the hall for her "exercise." Two women from the Taiwanese Association came to visit her (the ones I was complaining about earlier); one brought a roast Chinese-styled chicken from the local Asian grocery.  On Sunday, she seemed even better and more alert. She ate with more gusto. We were pleased when the doctor making his rounds confirmed that--adding that her lungs were clearing up and she seemed to be recovering from what they were calling pneumonia. Already, I was mentally preparing a discharge from the hospital the next day: I would make or buy whatever breakfast she wanted--and then we would leave for home where I would make extra certain that she did not get sick again. Mom couldn't quite decide what she wanted; so I told her, "look I usually call you in the mornings anyway. So I'll call and you tell me then."

 

I will never forget our goodbyes that weekend. She was awake both afternoons and managed to say "I love you." On Sunday when one of dad's friends was picking me up, she told me "don't get into trouble."  Ever the protective mother. That evening, it seemed as if a cloud had been lifted. I had a chat with the lawn service guy who lived across from us. I then called mom to tell about a fly that had gotten into a water bottle which I had sealed immediately. Even after 3 days, it was alive and kicking in that water. Mom, certainly you can thrive right? But she was drifting off. Dad told me she had only eaten some of the food.

 

As I got up next morning to call mom--the morning of the 29th, I received a shock. It was not mom or dad who picked up the phone, but a doctor. And strangely, a doctor with the same surname as my dad's personal physician. (Turned out to be his niece.) I was told mom had suffered a stroke. It would have been her second that year.

 

When I arrived, she (and my dad) had already been wheeled to the ICU. Her room was a wonderful one, all clean and modern, overlooking the hills: it was her best one so far and it was too bad she could not enjoy it.  I went and asked what meds she had been given to see if it was any different from what she'd gotten that week--before blowing up at my dad who told me he had also given her aspirin because she'd requested it. WHAT, YOU IDIOT, YOU GAVE HER MORE PAINKILLERS AFTER SHE'D ALREADY GOTTEN A HUGE DOSE?! (Later that night, my pharmacist cousin told me she thought those meds she got over the week were somewhat heavy for someone her age.)

 

There was one only hope left at 12pm: that she would wake up like she did after first stroke. It had taken about 4-5 hours before she had gained consciousness the first time. Maybe this could happen again?

 

The hours went by. 1 pm, 2 pm, 3 pm, 4 pm....and the day becoming increasingly overcast whereas it had been somewhat bright and hazy that morning.  It was becoming evident that the hoped-for miracle would not recur.

 

But my dad did tell me something interesting. Late Sunday night or the wee hours of the morning, she had called out for me. Then she proceeded to call her mother and all her siblings from oldest to youngest, not missing a single one. We wonder if she knew the end was coming.

 

(More to come this week...I have so much to do but I feel I need to chronicle her passing. )

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Today, last year, was the day that the doctors confirmed that my mom had a severe thrombotic stroke. It was 3:00 am.

 

I am not going to discuss it right now if only because I need to vent on a few things that happened today which have angered and saddened me beyond belief with my mom dead for less than a year.

 

As all of you know by now, my father is a useless scumbag--someone who has outlived his usefulness by far. Not just by one year, several years or even the last 10: at least the last 50+ is probably the most accurate! I call him Scumdad.

 

Anyway, he rushed me this morning: this is after 5 hours of sleep on my part since I'd been working on my book, paying HIS bills, and washing dishes (the sink is clogged up so it takes extra time) until 3am last night; it wasn't until 4 am that I was able to go to bed.  Told him I'd be done in 10 minutes. After 5 minutes, he starts rushing me--and then calls a cab. Since I am the one who makes all the preparations for departure, it angered me beyond all measure. I had to call the cab to tell them to arrive 20 minutes later: as such, wasting even more time. In the meantime, I was going batshitt crazy, trying to get dressed, find the cash, wallet, checkbook, cellphone, my book, and one of the cats (just to know where he was.)

 

You have to understand, btw,  that he always takes his own sweet time--and is almost ALWAYS tardy.  Never mind other people. But he has no compunction about rushing others, especially me or mom when she was alive.

 

In the huge rush and the stress of arguing with Scumdad, I forgot to bring the requisition form for the blood test. The doc was not able to fax it to the center in time so we ended up going home after lunch.

 

During the meal itself, I couldn't help but feel so depressed at the sight of several older women, 3 of whom were at least my mother's age in their mid 80s.  I don't begrudge them, of course, but I did begrudge the fact that my mom was unable to live so long :sad: They were all well-dressed and looked at ease, like they were really enjoying themselves. Bless them. Why couldn't my mom have more years??

 

But of course, few of them were married to jackasses like my day. Or financially improvident, cheating husbands. Her life was cut short by my ASSHOLE father! 

 

Meanwhile, my father continues to act like we are all meant to serve him even though he does squat: i.e,. he argues he didn't rush me (when I tell you to wait and you call up the cab, you are rushing me!!!) 

 

I said to him when he was complaining,  "Did you see those older women? THE REASON MOM IS NOT ALIVE like them IS BECAUSE OF YOU!"

 

Then what he said chilled me to the bone.

 

"Well, it's too late. I can't do anything about it."

 

You have to understand he says this a lot when he messes up and refuses to take responsibility: "It's too bad, I did it and nothing can be done now." Just like that. This infuriates me to no end. It's like saying "tough ****, I phucked up. Deal with it."  It is as if he has the license to phuck things up but we have to pay the consequences for his idiocy. 

 

DO ANY OF YOU HAVE SUCH ROTTEN FATHERS?

 

I was ready to slap him--but couldn't because we were outside. I didn't want to be arrested; people were already looking because we were yelling at each other (he is slow, stupid, and refuses to get a hearing aid.)  But can you believe he had the gall to say that--as if he didn't care at all? Again--with mom in the grave for less than a year?

 

A part of me really wanted to cry. Mom had been so good to him, bent over backwards for him in their 60+ years of marriage even as he cheated on her and us. HOW COULD HE EVEN SAY THIS? HOW DARE HE? HE HASTENED HER DEATH AND HAS ABSOLUTELY NO REMORSE!

 

At the same time, I feel so sorry for my poor mom and feel lonelier than ever. He clearly has never cared for either of us.

 

I've had it. He's supposed to see his dermatologist on Oct. 2. I utterly refuse to take the time to bring him there and arrange another blood test between now and then so I had it postponed.  The earliest they had was January 26th.

 

If he feels bad, TOUGH ****. I AM SICK OF SACRIFICING MYSELF FOR HIM AND NOT GETTING ACKNOWLEDGED!!!!!! LET HIM SCRATCH HIMSELF TO DEATH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

DEAR GOD, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, KILL MY FATHER!!!!! HE HAS NO BUSINESS ALIVE WHEN HE'S KILLED MOM, FAILED TO WRITE AN OBITUARY, AND HAS ALL BUT COMPLETELY FORGOTTEN HER. Yeah, right, IT'S TOO LATE~

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No problem, Eve--my dad was actually going to make an appointment with a dermatologist who was closer anyway. I was so peeved yesterday...being rushed by him, wasting an entire day out, and seeing all those women who reminded me that mom should be alive; the last thing I wanted to do was to waste even more time for him. I am up to the gills.

 

I'm glad your mom got a nice ICU room--I suppose it takes the pain away just a little? She was lucky to stay until the very end. At least she was able to open her eyes and perhaps appreciate everything?

 

My mom's ICU room was, alas, not the last. They wound up moving her to the cancer unit--for what reason, I don't really recall since it would have been too late for them to do anything about her cancer anyway. :(

 

I did snap at one of the doctors: although they made their plans for room removal prior to my challenging them. That's when I complained that my mom should have had a GI oncologist in the first place since her cancer started in the bile duct. It was not until the previous day--the day my mom had her stroke--that I had just discovered there was a GI oncology department at the hospital. Why was she assigned a hematologist?! 

 

I now realize it may well have been because the doctor was new and needed patients. That's the most convenient excuse. Having said that, even if I had known there was a GI oncology department, I'm not sure I would have given up the hematologist since he seemed to have the best credentials--on paper, at least. And my mom seemed to like him so much.

 

Nonetheless, I felt that I had to say something. She should have had a GI oncologist as an adviser.

 

The doctor got very defensive. I told him that not all patients and their caregivers were ignorant. That I was an academic and that their decision to assign a hematologist made zero sense: I explained that what they did was comparable to assigning a student who wanted to write a senior thesis on Jane Austen to someone specializing in Chaucer.

 

The asshole doc replied, "well, if you're an academic, you know that results cannot always be assured. Maybe your mom would still be suffering." I answered, "That's not the point. She may--but perhaps she might have a better chance at survival. At least, we would be assured in the knowledge that everything was tried. After all, how is hematologist going to know the latest research in  GI treatment? There's a reason why there are specializations!" LOL, that doc looked like he was ready to explode. But I knew I am right. (And hell yeah, my Ph.D. is from a MUCH more prestigious institution than his, HA!)

 

The doc stubbornly continued to insist, "but there are no guarantees"--to which I replied, of course, "there are indeed no guarantees, but it is highly unprofessional to not try the best route possible."

 

I guess he must have been upset enough to tell this to my mom's primary physician who called me that night.  But I stuck to everything I said and repeated everything verbatim.

 

Since my mom was now going to the cancer unit, I told him I was going to speak to the head of the GI oncology department.

 

GOD, DO I HATE DUMB PEOPLE! There really ought to be IQ testing for couples who want to procreate. STUPID, IGNORANT PEOPLE SHOULD NOT BE ALLOWED TO BREED!

 

Anyways~

 

I really do believe my mom was killed not only by dad, but the crappy, unprofessional, last-in-med-school doctors at hand. If my dad had stressed her out over the years and brought her needlessly to Taiwan in November 2013 which I believe killed her (food preparation had become very unsanitary there, not to mention the imports of Fukushima food), the docs were the ones, so to speak, who thrust the knife into mom.  

 

IF ANYONE HERE IS IN THE HARTFORD AREA OF CT AND WOULD LIKE SOME ADVICE ON CANCER, PLEASE PM ME. I WILL TELL YOU WHO TO AVOID!

 

Meanwhile, here is a special GODDAMN to those docs. It's 5 days to the anniversary of her death, I am still fuming as I cry here tonight.

 

God damn you docs for killing my precious mom before her time. God damn you, your wives, your sons, your daughters, and whoever is still alive in your freaking family. I HOPE you ALL GET RAPED, BEATEN, BURNED, DISEASED, DISFIGURED, TERMINALLY ILL.  I HOPE YOU SUFFER A TRAVELING ACCIDENT ON YOUR MULTIPLE VACATIONS.

 

And so I damn them from head to toe:

 

GOD DAMN THEIR EYES, GOD DAMN THEIR EYEBROWS, GOD DAMN THEIR NOSES, GOD DAMN THEIR NOSTRILS, GOD DAMN THEIR MOUTHS, GOD DAMN THEIR TEETH, GOD DAMN THEIR TONGUES, GOD DAMN THEIR GUMS, GOD DAMN THEIR THROATS, GOD DAMN THEIR  NECKS, GOD DAMN THEIR ESOPHAGI, GOD DAMN THEIR LUNGS, GOD DAMN THEIR HEARTS, GOD DAMN THEIR STOMACHS, GOD DAMN THEIR LIVERS, GOD DAMN THEIR PANCREAS, GOD DAMN THEIR KIDNEYS, GOD DAMN THEIR BLADDERS, GOD DAMN THEIR BILE DUCTS, GOD DAMN THEIR SMALL AND LARGE INTESTINES, GOD DAMN THEIR COLONS, GOD DAMN THEIR UTERI, GOD DAMN THEIR KUNTS, GOD DAMN THEIR PRICS, GOD DAMN THEIR TESTICLES, GOD DAMN THEIR THIGHS, GOD DAMN THEIR KNEES, GOD DAMN THEIR CALVES, GOD DAMN THEIR ANKLES, GOD DAMN THEIR TOES, GOD DAMN THEIR ARMS, GOD DAMN THEIR ELBOWS, GOD DAMN THEIR FINGERS AND NAILS.  GOD DAMN EACH AND EVERY ONE OF THOSE MOTHER PHUCKERS. I HOPE THEY SUFFER A FATAL XMAS/HANUKKAH ACCIDENT WHERE EVERYTHING BURNS DOWN AROUND THEM. I HOPE THEY GET SLAMMED ON AN ICY BRIDGE AND PLUNGE INTO THE DEPTHS. OR SMASHED BY AN ONCOMING 18-WHEELER.

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Eve, I think many of those docs don't care at all.  That's why your mom's doctors couldn't even get their stories straight. The only thing they care about is their freaking vacations.
 
I'm sorry it sounds so cynical, but when I was living back in Chicago, a nurse working at Northwestern Memorial told me about some of the instructions she'd been given, particularly this one--
 
"The most important patients are the wealthy ones--especially the donors. Be nice to them."
 
It's as if the rest of us don't matter. I don't know about your docs, but I feel as if ours assumed that since our family was not wealthy and my mom was on Medicare-United Healthcare, they could give a flying phuck whether she lived or died. In fact, they may even have thought that was not worth their bother because they wouldn't get the best reimbursement.
 
Oh yes, I did mention the penises--but was afraid it would be deleted, so I wrote "prics." :):lol:

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silverkitties

PLEASE GOD, KILL MY FATHER!

 

I have just about had it. My dad tracked diarrhea all over the hallway.

 

As amusing as this may seem, it's not: or at least not if you have to clean up after him like I did again--second time this week! This has wasted at least 2 hours and I have more than enough things to worry about.

 

And this dumbass wonders why he has no respect from me or anyone. Hello, stupid, it's your lack of common sense. This is why you don't teach at a semi-prestigious university--let alone a prestigious one. This is why U Michigan, UCLA, Harvard, Yale, etc. don't want you.  If you can't even clean up after yourself and realize that you have to change your slippers after you plop poop all over the place, it's no wonder you do crappy research. (Pun intended.)

 

My dad likes to blame his lack of success on racism--to which I say BULLSCHITT. There are loads of Asians in engineering. All your friends have better jobs and better pay. Everyone but YOU. Because you're STUPID. No wonder you only feel comfortable with people who are far less educated--like your cousin with her 5th grade education. No wonder you feel uncomfortable shopping at places like Saks and Brooks Brothers. You complain about materialism but that's because you know deep down you're a LOSER. And yet, you had the gall to push me and mom around!

 

My dad threatened to spray the cleaning fluid in my face to which I said "you do that and I'll shove you right onto the floor. And I can do that because it's SELF-DEFENSE. Do you know what that is, idiot, son of a whore? GODDAMN YOUR MOTHER FOR BRINGING UP A KUNT LIKE YOU! WIFE KILLER!"

 

You should see the loser praying to his parents and family at night. I make sure to pass by and say out loud-- "goddamn your parents for breeding and raising you. I DAMN YOUR PARENTS EVERY NIGHT. YOUR DUMBASS, HO-HUMPING COP DAD AND DUMBASS TEACHER MOM (btw, how does someone that stupid and ill-equipped at raising children teach?!). BUNCHA STUPID UNEDUCATED DIRTBAGS. YOU KILLED MOM!"
 

Please, God, answer my prayers and KILL HIM! KILL MY MOM'S BIGGEST MURDERER! AND KILL HER GODDAMN DOCS!

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Hi Eve and Silver,

 

I'm so very sorry over the 1st anniversary of Silver's momma. Last year's 1st anniversary was extremely hard for me. Luckily, I had lots of work at that time, otherwise, I'd gone crazy. Work has been a way to keep myself from falling into utter sadness and despair. Since my momma left us just before Christmas, and got really sick during both her birthday and mine, the end of the year and the holiday season are dreaded times for me. I don't know how I will feel  this year, but I don't think it'll be any better. My birthday was a true nightmare last year, as my mom always made it very special, as I did hers, and we were born one day apart, so my birthday will always be a very sad occasion.

 

I completely understand what you are describing about medical care. However, I wish I had been a lot more proactive and assertive like you and Eve. I was in such shock and so jetlagged that I couldn't think straight. It all happened so quickly and unexpectedly, and once I heard it was lung cancer with metastases to the pelvis and liver, I knew survival chances were very limited, so I sort of gave up any hope. I also didn't want my mom to continue to suffer indefinitely if she wasn't going to be cured, and she had lost a lot of weight in a matter of a few weeks, so would not have been able to withstand chemo, which she'd always been opposed to after seeing her own mom suffer terribly through it without real hope of being cured. I never thought, in a million years, that she had cancer of any sort, let alone in the lung, as she'd never smoked, and neither did her parents or my father. She was the most active and independent person I've ever known, very strong and intelligent, kind and funny. She was, is and always will be my hero.

 

I'd convinced her to come see us (my brother and I and her new grandchild), and only 2 weeks before travelling from Europe, she experienced pain in one of her legs, but when through 2 MRIs, blood tests and epidurals and was then fully ready to travel. She was OK for the first month while here, and then the pain returned and wouldn't go away. I took her to the doctors here, even though she didn't have the required health insurance to receive full treatment, due to not being a permanent resident or citizen of this country, so she got strong pain killers, but not all the necessary tests and assistance. In the last three weeks before going home, she started losing her appetite and experiencing more pain. I gave her massages with special ointments every single day, sometimes three times a day, but she wasn't herself. She was in a lot of pain in her leg, though I was in absolute denial due to the MRIs and other tests not having revealed any traces of tumours. She used to go to various specialists once a year, for check-ups, and had recently visited her gynaecologist for full tests and examination, as well as her gastroenterologist and dermatologist, so how could it be than none of them ever conducted a CT scan of her actual chest? She wasn't high risk for lung cancer, I guess, but I also believe that doctors are lazy and mediocre, and try to save money on behalf of the private health insurance companies they work for.

 

Only at the very end did mom have trouble breathing, and only on her last day, thank God, did she have to wear an oxygen mask, which she refused to wear and I got upset at her over that, and also when she refused to eat or when I couldn't sleep a wink due to the effects of the morphine on her and the awful hallucinations that they were causing her. I was so selfish and I beat myself up over it after and ever since. I deserve all this suffering for not being a lot more assertive, patient and kind during those days. I was a mess inside, and with all the family and friends around, I couldn't really grieve. I told her I loved her every single day though, but I could have been a lot better. I'm not like my mom, I wish I was, but I am not as strong and together as she was in the face of adversity. My tendency is to try and run away or pretend that things aren't as bad as they are, and that's what I wanted when my mom was diagnosed and got so sick, for the nightmare to end, as I couldn't bear it.

 

There are 4 medical doctors in my mom's family, one of her sisters, her sister's husband, her sister's son and his wife, though none of them specialise in oncology or pulmonology, rather in orthopaedics, dermatology, internal medicine and nephrology. They were extremely helpful and supportive of my mom during her short but very intense and painful illness, by connecting her with the best specialists, checking up on her daily and speaking with those specialists on the results of all analyses. However, those specialists were not really available to me. They didn't really talk to me, they talked to my relatives, who in turn talked to me. I didn't ask more questions about the illness and possible treatment options because I was in utter shock and denial mode, and I just wanted for it all to disappear and go away. I feel so guilty about that. I should have done more, but I knew that my mom didn't want to suffer indefinitely if there was no cure. She had told me so several times before.

 

However, my mother in law's got a friend who has the same type of cancer as my mom, and was diagnosed at the same time. Unlike my mom, she's still alive. She has chemo every two weeks, and has survived for nearly two years. Her tumours cannot be cured, but they are not growing further either. Her primary cancer was not lung cancer, it was breast cancer, which three years later became lung cancer, liver cancer and bone cancer. But the point is, she's still alive, all difficulties considered. How come my mom is not? Is it my fault? Could I have done a lot more? Why did I convince her to come see us? Did I cause more suffering that I should have? I felt so impotent at the time. I'd had a hell of a year at work too, and I had been under so much stress that I'd lost heaps of weight. I  spent the last 4 months of my mom's life with her every day, and I thank God for that, and for the fact that I had enough money and holidays to fly home and be with her. However, I could have done a lot more and that pains me terribly.

 

Sorry for all the gibberish, that's why I don't write every day, because when I do, I write extremely long messages.

 

I just wanted to say that I read every day and I am think of you both and everybody who is going through this awfully painful process which will never really end, as we will not get our moms back, not in this life anyway.

 

Warm regards to you both,

 

Trish

 

 

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silverkitties

I'm always happy to see you, Trish--and just wanted to reassure you, no matter what you think, that you truly have done your best in your circumstances.

 

You have already seen how Eve and I tried everything: and yet our mothers still succumbed.

 

There are always a lot of factors involved. As you know, I continue to blame my father. I also hold the docs responsible--and perhaps, not just the docs, but the healthcare system where everything boils down to profit: the almighty dollar.  Docs sign contracts with drug companies making commissions when they prescribe a drug. Hospitals and docs gauge care according to insurance coverage. Unless you are mega rich and famous--and have the power to make huge donations or sway people one way or another-- you're more or less as good as lost. Insurance companies will have their profits and doctors will have their multiple vacations. And even then, supposing you have all the advantages life and capitalism can offer, there are no guarantees. Look at Celine Dion's 73-year-old husband dying of lung cancer; it is believed that he only has a few days left. There's Jim Cramer's father who died last year at 92--granted, a ripe old age--but the docs weren't able to do anything about his pneumonia. I know this doesn't make the pain go away: sometimes, it makes us feel even more helpless.

 

I do try to be proactive though. I try to tell myself that I will learn something from mom's suffering and make sure I don't make the same mistakes again. I made sure my dad went to a different hospital when he collapsed at the treadmill. I try to avoid eating processed foods which can trigger cancer--or feeding them to my dad. I have stopped making pasta altogether as I discovered that aluminum cans contribute to cancer. (I used to use canned tomatoes to make pasta, believing that it was better than the stuff in the jars.)

 

Yet, as rational as we try to be, we can't help being human either. I know all too well what you mean when you get pangs seeing other people who are still alive--despite the fact that they are suffering from the same kind of cancer as your mom. It feels terrible to begrudge others: but then again, we are still mourning and in deep grief. We need to accept this state of mind for now; that we will have our regrets no matter how petty it might seem to others.  This will hopefully change as we begin to heal.

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silverkitties

I should be working on my article, but still can't concentrate: and I know just why--because memories of what happened Thursday last year have been running like a vengeance through my mind all day, playing like a film on continuous reel. It doesn't help that the weather is almost exactly the same--a mix of sun and clouds, but mostly overcast by the end of the day. And of course, with the equinox, days were getting progressively shorter. Whereas in the summer, there was still plenty of sun at 7pm, it was now dark.  Not that any of this was outside of the ordinary, but one notices these changes when depressed and anxious. Everything feels a little darker, a little sadder.

 

I remember getting a call from the Fourth Angel in the late morning. Bless the woman I spoke to: she was my age, but had been suffering from my mom's cancer for the last 4 years. She was also given a 6-month prognosis. But somehow she endured. We talked about a lot of things--not just my mom's cancer, and I left for the hospital feeling considerably better.

 

One of the things she had told me was that many stroke sufferers still had their hearing intact.

 

So when I visited mom, I played some music for her--some of her favorites, some of ours, and some of my childhood favorites.

 

She always enjoyed Schubert's Ave Maria, so I started with that. Then to another Schubert piece, this time an impromptu I played back in college, There was a waltz from Berlioz's Symphonie Fantastique, Mozart's "Rondo Alla Turca" and Beethoven's Fur Elise, both of which she used to play. 

 

What amazed me was how mom started to move her arms and legs; it was almost as if she were trying to dance to the music.

 

Then I played some tracks from my favorite childhood album, hoping that it might jolt her memories and revive her--

 

"The hills are alive with the sound of music. With songs they have sung for a thousand years..."

 

"....Let's start at the very beginning, a very good place to start. When you read you begin with ABC..." 

 

"Raindrops on roses, whiskers on kittens, bright copper kettles, and warm woollen mittens..."

 

"Edelweiss, edelweiss, every morning you greet me..."

 

"So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, good night..."

 

Mom continued to move...could she really be hearing the sounds of music? Could she then hear us? Maybe she did hear me telling her every evening that I loved her. That I wanted her to get better. That we would return home and she would recover. And maybe, just maybe, we could go to the mall like we used to. (OK, I didn't really think that would happen, but thought maybe she might be compelled to wake up.)

 

That evening, Dad came home with me because he was feeling quite tired since he'd slept there Tuesday and Wednesday. I didn't want him to risk his health since it was not altogether clear how conscious mom was after all: would she really know he had left? It would be just one night anyway.

 

Yet, seeing her move to the music made me think at least mom had not gone altogether; she probably was attuned at some level. She may not have been functioning, but she's alive and somewhat sentient. If I could just see her move over the next month, I wouldn't feel so depressed. Better that than losing her completely.   

 

But the next day, a Friday, October 3, dad said he felt that he had a cold--so I went by myself. I played music for mom, but there was very little reaction. She wasn't moving her arms and legs like the day before. Was she feeling worse? Or did she know dad was not there?

 

Strangely, it was the one day that week when it wasn't either cloudy or overcast. It was bright and sunny...sort of the eye of the storm.

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silverkitties

Eve, it looks like our posts sort of crossed--my post on today is just below yours; you probably started posting as I was finishing.

 

But yes, it's been a very sad day for me. You'll see why. :(

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Thank you for asking, Eve--It's another gray and dismal day.

 

Still reeling from a huge argument I had with my dad last night. As usual, he was being uncooperative, and like just about every day, I said "You killed mom! You know you did! If it weren't for you she might still be alive! "  

 

Then he actually acknowledged he killed mom!--before saying nonchalantly "What do you expect me to do?  It's too late. I didn't mean to." Just like on Monday.

 

OK, I suppose between him and the doctors, she died. Perhaps even I was to blame when I cooked pasta, trying to do it the right way with canned tomatoes, sausage, and pepperoni. Maybe our pizza outings killed her?

 

Today wasn't as bad as yesterday as I was trying to write a letter to the editor (debates are the only thing that keep me from going insane) and finish my article. I had a number of chores, including sorting the groceries so there was no real time for me to get seriously depressed.

 

Yet, I wonder how I will feel on Sunday, the 4th.

 

At the moment, i do admit to feeling a bit sad and lonely that none of my relatives have bothered to call. Maybe they don't want to remind me. Another one of my cousins--the one who visited us last year in May--emailed. I find it hard to talk to her because she always sticks her daughter on the phone while she herself is always cheery. Bless her for thinking of me....but I find it so difficult to be with happy people right now.

 

This year has been a year from hell; I can't figure out if it's better or worse than last year, but it seems that I've had so much anxiety this year over everything, with depression heaped on top. Worrying about money, worrying about the book and other projects, worrying about the cats. My dad refusing to cooperate.

 

I've not had a rip roaring laugh at all this year. Somehow, the laughter disappeared with mom. Whether it was watching comedy or making cracks about dad. Like the time I told her in Taiwanese that his head was shaped like a giant toilet, but that God had forgotten to add a flush handle. (She never expects me to be fluent in Taiwanese...don't know why since i've lived with her these last 7 years when my folks moved up here with me!) Mom would tell me about her parents' fights--or some folks she knew with funny names--like someone whose Japanese and Taiwanese names, when combined, sound like the Taiwanese word for "sh*t explosion." I remember how we laughed when I taught her the word "kunt" and showed it to her in her Japanese dictionary. Then she taught me the word in Taiwanese.

 

I feel like I've lost interest in some of my hobbies--including fashion. It's become hard to shop online when certain clothes remind me of things I had bought earlier when mom was still alive. Or when fashion shows and brochures remind me of the times mom and I would watch and pore through them. There are two lipsticks I used to wear all the time when I was visiting mom in rehab and every time I wear them I think of those days.

 

This happens all too often even when I'm doing my work. Every time I open my ipad to look at notes, I think of all the times I was in the hospital last year. And last night when I read the news that the university I attended in England was #2 worldwide, I almost wanted to tell her. Then all my memories of her visits flooded back and I wound up feeling worse, knowing I will never enjoy England with her again.

 

It's as though everything positive has turned negative. And everything negative becomes even worse--like my dad.

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I bet they forgot, Eve--and probably don't care either. If I want to be charitable, then I think maybe they don't want to upset us. Have any of your brothers or sister called?

 

I'm thinking about making my mom's favorite chicken soup that day. And yet, I know it's probably going to get me crying--that is, if I'm not crying already.

 

I have no idea how I'm going to feel. Yesterday was horrible. I felt as if I were living it all over again. The sad thing is I know it won't end on Sunday either. I'll be thinking about the early days of that week when we went to the funeral home. And when the Buddhists came to see us. When the cat that was most attached to my mom got an eye infection that night: usually it's his sister who gets them. They say cats get them when they are stressed. Maybe the boy knew she was gone for good?

 

Sometimes I wonder what he thinks when he sleeps on my mom's bed. The girl doesn't sleep there anymore--at least, not since she's recovered from her loss of appetite-- but he goes there frequently. Is he missing her? Or is it because that room is a little warmer?

 

I know what you mean. I used to share some of my books with my mom too: I remember how she managed to read a 400-page college/graduate-level biography. Most of the time she claimed she was too busy; but she would always try to read in the evenings. That changed, though, as my dad started phucking up his schedule--and naturally mom's.

 

It is indeed so hard to know you won't be sharing anymore :( Or laughing together.

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Another gray, dismal day. It looks like tomorrow--the 4th--will be the same, but a little warmer. Just like last year.

 

It's hard to believe it's been almost a year. It still feels so fresh, so raw.

 

Today, a strange thing happened. The brother cat who's very attached to my mom crawled inside the bag where I kept the clothes that she was supposed to wear home. I don't know why he chose the bag. Was it because it was time to change the sheets on my mom's bed, where no one sleeps at all--except him? (The last time it was changed was in August.) Was it because he was jolted by me when I turned the covers on the futon beside her bed (hadn't slept there since August too)? Or did he go there because he happened to sniff my mom's scent on those clothes, even though they had been washed when we brought them to her?

 

It made me feel sad....perhaps he's still missing her? Then I wonder...am I projecting my sadness onto him? Or is he indeed as unhappy and lonely as I am?

 

Mom should not have been the one to die...statistics show that women almost always outlive their husbands? WHY WAS IT NOT SO IN OUR CASE? Mom should be the one alive and enjoying herself! She busted herself for dad who only cared about HIMSELF. And unlike other fathers who cheat on their wives but still care for their daughters (e.g., Bill Clinton), he doesn't even care about me!

 

I feel so screwed. No mom. No dad. No husband. NOTHING. NADA. No one to love. No one who loves me. WHY EKE OUT SUCH A MISERABLE EXISTENCE? WHY AM I NOT DEAD?

 

All my dreams are so strange....there's either a sense of longing, like something's missing even when I'm not thinking of mom per se,, or I'm ecstatic to be with her again.

 

This afternoon,  when I asked the guy who drove me and dad out for grocery shopping what happens to the dead after a year (even though I don't really believe in Buddhism or any religion), he said that they get reborn; for instance, she may be reborn as a baby.  It made me sad....probably means we will never meet again if we indeed are born over and over again.  As he once said, human existences are like dreams...we will all pass in and out of others' lives just as in dreams when people fade in and out.

 

Right now, all I want is the assurance that I will see her once more. :( :( :( It's the only thing that could possibly make me happy and give me a purpose to live. I like to imagine that when we are dead, we will float together, seeing all the places we once enjoyed, recalling all of our fond remembrances. And we will never be separated again.    

 

Why can't I at least have that when my life has been so bleak and unhappy? Why?

 

Sorry this post is so incoherent and rambling. This is probably all I can muster in my present state of mind.

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Eve, the year has flown by. Each quarter seems to have had its unique form of anxiety, sorrow, and nostalgia.

 

Retrospectively, last October through December were in some ways the least unhappy even though I was so stressed over handling mom's finances, probate, teaching, memorial services, and not least--a new change in our phone and internet when AT&T got replaced by Frontier. (I guess I had been so involved with caretaking that I barely paid attention to the switch then.) But at least then, people were reaching out to us--my parents' friends in the Taiwanese community and my relatives: I will have to hand it to the former for helping us out with rides and answering questions then.  At Xmas, we gave nice gifts to all those who helped us.

 

Altogether, this past year since my mom's passing has been a long and terrible year; in fact, I can't even figure out if it's better or worse than last year. Each was challenging in its own way, I suppose.  Honestly, working on my book was relatively easy in comparison to dealing with my bouts of depression. 

 

But I will say this: Eve, the only times i've ever felt any happiness or comfort was here on these boards, exchanging thoughts with everyone. I really appreciate all the empathy--and yes, the laughter that sometimes accompanied the tears. You have been such a balm: you don't know how much I thank you for reaching out last March. (Has it been that long already?!) I enjoyed our phone conversation too.

 

Really, thank you for being a friend. I keep thinking how strange and fitting it is that you're not far from where I lived over the last 30+ years. :)

 

Here's a little song for you, MSN, Trish, CindyJane, Missionblue, and all those newer folks--Fragrantcloud, Lisa, and others--who have shared and sympathized over the past several months:

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yq-sxM20RMM

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Today marks the 1-year anniversary of Mom's passing--almost to the hour.

 

It wasn't something I really expected that overcast morning. I harbored some hopes that with Dad feeling better and accompanying me to see her, she might notice and feel better herself.

 

But there were already signs that all was not going to go well as we headed over. On the way to the hospital, the doctor phoned to say that we'd have to make a decision on her real soon as her breathing was getting shallow and her blood pressure had spiked up. Sure enough, when we arrived that's what we had found. Mom was breathing more audibly; possibly because of this, she also looked more alert--as if she were going to wake up.

 

Around 11:20 am, a doctor came to check. Mom's pressure continued to go up as her oxygen diminished. It was now coming down to a final decision. Did we want them to make an effort to resuscitate her? Did we want her on a feeding tube and ventilator? At this moment, a group of technicians were summoned in: it was almost frightening. Up till now, I have NO idea, why they needed 20 people. (I even wonder if this scared mom into having her third and final stroke.)

 

Dad and I went out in the hallway with another doctor to discuss this. I recall feeling so ambivalent; I really wanted to keep my mom alive--but I also remember that she had told us that she did not want to live on unnecessarily. She did not want to remain comatose for years.

 

Suddenly, my mom's primary physician who was in mom's room called out to say she had passed.  It was almost as if Mom made her decision for us. For a brief moment, there was almost a feeling of relief on our part.

 

As we reentered, there she was--lying with her head turned to the side. There were a few hugs with the docs.  Mom's doc told me he had gone through the same when his mother died of breast cancer. A few of the techs gave us condolences. Then they all left. My mom probably expired prior to 11:40, but the certificate records that she was pronounced dead at 11:45.

 

This was it. There was an incredible silence of shock. I started calling my cousin and aunt who were on the train from Illinois. They didn't pick up, so I proceeded to call my mom's younger sister--the one who visited back in May. I wrote to a friend to tell her too. 

 

Then it started to pour--and pour hard. It hadn't rained like this for some time; there were a few very minor misty sprinkles over the past week, but nothing like this. Finally, I broke down and cried. It seemed as if all--including Mother Nature herself--were mourning her death. After a Catholic priest came to visit and stay for half an hour, my dad and I started discussing whether to get the Buddhist monks to chant; it was something we had meant to do the past week, but he could not get a hold of his friend. So we started making calls. It was around 2 pm when we were told that two  monks would arrive.

 

In the meantime, my dad had me buy lunch. I had no appetite--and this was probably one of the rare occasions. I wondered how on earth could dad even think of eating right after Mom's passing?

 

We waited and waited for the monks to arrive: no answer except that "they were on the way."  By 3:30 pm, the nurse was already trying to rush us out--which I thought was insensitive. As it was, my mom was never that well taken cared of during her entire illness--and now that she died, they were pushing us out. As 4:30 came and went, we told the monks not to come: it was really too late to chant for her spirit (which supposedly has to happen while she is still alive) and we were planning to have some sort of Buddhist ceremony at her funeral or memorial service anyway. 

 

The most heartbreaking moments came as we were about to leave--sometime around 5 ish.    I began taking some pictures from my ipad when the nurse reentered and offered to do so: this went on for some 10 minutes. I temporarily removed mom's ring from my finger and put it on hers for one of the pics. 

 

Finally, I called one of the Taiwanese folks to give us ride back. I naturally had to go downstairs first to find her before calling up my dad since he required a wheelchair for the long distance between the cancer ward and the entrance: but not before I kissed Mom over and over, telling her I loved her and was so, so sorry. I must have had at least two final looks at her before leaving her--for once and for all. 

 

I can only wonder what Dad thought when he was left alone. This was his wife for some 55 years. He had been with her and known her far longer than I had--probably close to 70 years.  What must it be like to see your high school sweetheart die?

 

As I went downstairs, switching elevators, I heard the mechanical piano playing Schubert's Ave Maria. What a poignant coincidence: you have to understand that the mechanical piano had always struck me from the very first time we visited Mom as she was recovering from her first stroke. And now it was marking her exit from the world. 

 

After 20 minutes, dad and I were on the way home. The rain had stopped as we entered our house.

 

I still felt so numb. Couldn't believe that dad wanted to exercise on the treadmill while my head was in a dizzying spin, worried about all that we would have to do in the following weeks. I felt I could barely muster the strength to tell my students that my mother had died--and that I would not be responding to any posts over the weekend. I also had to start preparing a 45-minute presentation for a college on behalf of one of my organizations: since I knew I was not going to be there, I had to complete it by the following night in order to give it to a fellow member to read aloud for me.

 

Some of the folks in the Taiwanese community brought us soup: since the news of my mom's death that morning had been emailed to everyone. One pastor came with her husband.

 

I think the lifesavers, though, that weekend were my cousin and aunt. They arrived much later than scheduled given a combined 6-hour delay in Ohio and New York: they made me feel far less alone on that day. It was as if I had pieces of my Mom by proxy, especially since the aunt--my mom's cousin--was very close to her. Together that weekend, they helped clean my kitchen as I worked on my presentation. 

 

As I look at the clock now--12:05 pm, I know my mom has passed exactly a year ago and some 20 minutes.

 

Mom, it has been such a tough road without you. I knew it would be painful to suffer your loss as I was helping you in your last few months, but little did I anticipate this level of grief, where some days feel just as raw as the day you left. Not a day goes by without some memory or recollection of you. Not one day goes by without some tears. Mom you were my everything and you will always be my everything. You have been the one source of meaning in my life, if not only.

 

And yet, in my less unhappy moments, I also feel blessed--amazingly blessed. Blessed to have had such a beautiful mother, inside and out: one whom many of my friends referred to as a "moon goddess."  So beautiful she didn't need make-up. And more importantly, I was blessed to have known someone so exceptionally intelligent, yet so generous and selfless.  Thank you, mom--thank you, Cecelia--for supporting us through all of our trials and tribulations. You really were our very own St. Cecelia--the patron saint of music, the music in our lives, our very joy and peace.

 

You were our amazing grace. Just like the lyrics in that favorite hymn of yours, one which you would always sing along with, you faced your share of dangers, toils, and snares. And you did it with such grace.  Thank you too for making our triumphs possible. As I've said quite often here, I'm not religious at all. And yet, I feel ever thankful for the amazing grace of the forces--divine or not--which sent us this miracle of a mother. Mother, you have been our angel on earth, our very own St. Cecilia, singing your sweet songs; so I like to think you are now with the heavenly chorus above. 

 

This is for you, Mom--and for all those mourning a loss. It is Schubert's Ave Maria, orchestrated and depicted in Disney's Fantasia--so hauntingly beautiful. I had always wished she'd seen this with me.

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8xXkB-ncF2g

 

Bless you, Mom--forever.

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Thank you, Eve--yesterday was a real rollercoaster of emotions.

 

I cried a lot: there's no denying it. It was a beautiful, sunny day, but towards the late afternoon, I started becoming so depressed again as I thought of so many other afternoons just like yesterday--especially when I was sorting things in my cats' room...except that mom was still around.

 

As I washed dishes, thoughts of mom in the hospital drifted back like they always do, but this time there was more weight and anguish, reminding me that all we did was of little avail. All the hopes, all the dreams. Then as I cooked, I thought of all the appreciation she used to show and how happy she was. I will never see that again. I know I shouldn't be thinking like that, but how could I help it on the anniversary of my mom's passing? Stress didn't help either.

 

I guess that's probably what hurts the most at this moment. Knowing that I will never have those days again with mom--or indeed, with anyone else. Knowing I will never go out since I hate going out by myself, especially at this juncture.

 

I only lost some of the blues when I got back into my work: which I need to return to right now! But I will be back to say more.

 

Eve, how are you faring with the approach of your mom's angelversary? How was your aunt and cousin? I know that seeing them will not heal all wounds, but I'm hoping that their presence will be like a favorite balm--especially since your aunt is your mom's favorite sister. 

 

I tell you I love your idea of the 80 balloons. It would be such a superb celebration of a vibrant woman. I like that you've told me of her, Eve, and wish I knew her personally! I hope you will have pics for us!

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By now it's been a year and nearly two weeks since the passing of my mom. 

 

Yesterday, we went out for my dad's blood test. We ate at the restaurant we normally eat at. As usual, there were plenty of older women: women at least my mom's age. They looked happy, healthy, well-dressed, and well-off: obviously, they had been well taken care of.

 

OK, to tell the truth, I don't know that there are always so many women over 82, but I guess it's inevitable that I pay a lot of attention to this now. No, I don't begrudge them as I'd hate to think of other people mourning the loss of their moms--but it made me feel that much more resentful of my dad all over again. 

 

Can't help but think of all those wonderful husbands and fathers who live for their families, placing them above all else. All those who remain faithful to their wives. Encourage their children and support them in every endeavor. Those who earn as much as they possibly can to ensure the financial wellbeing of their families: no wonder so many wives outlive their husbands. No doubt, few of these women are married to scumbags like my dad who only cares about his asshole parents and his kunt cousin mistress: he should NEVER HAVE MARRIED MOM and had children as I HATE being his daughter and seeing his features in my face!  I hate EVERYONE ON HIS SIDE OF THE FAMILY AND CURSE THEM ROYALLY EVERY NIGHT! If there's any reason for me to commit suicide, this is actually already plenty.

 

If it weren't for him, she might still be alive. I hate him for cheating on her. Taking advantage of her forgiveness and care for him. I hate him for not listening to us and making all the mistakes I anticipated. I hate the way he continues to be so uncooperative and so stupid--even though I tell him each and every day to REMEMBER THAT HE KILLED MOM. AND HE OUGHT TO BEAR THAT IN MIND EVERY MORNING, EVERY NOON, AND EVERY NIGHT before he thinks of destroying me any further by crapping all over the bathroom and tracking it everywhere so I have to spend so many unnecessary hours cleaning. I HATE NOT BEING PAID FOR THIS!  Sometimes i almost hate my mom for marrying and putting up with him for over 60 years: cheater, slacker, poor wage earner, dumb and unassertive male kunt in public, but pushy at home. SO UNLIKE OTHER COMPARABLY EDUCATED AMERICAN MEN!  No, it's clear that HE KILLED OUR FAMILY, ESPECIALLY MOM!

 

Anyway, this evening as I went out to dump the garbage, I couldn't help thinking of mom all over again and how much I miss her. Of course, I always feel a little depressed by evening, but I always feel especially so whenever I have to do garbage: and particularly after having gone out yesterday and seeing those women. WHY DO OTHERS STILL HAVE THEIR MOMS WHEN THEY ARE ALREADY HAPPY?!  It made me think of all those other evenings when mom was in the kitchen preparing the meals. Or the times she stood at the door, making sure no wild animals were prowling about. (IMO, the only wild animal is my idiot dad, half human, half gorilla! I hate his ugly gorilla, chimpanzee family. Stinking savages!)

 

GODDAMN MY FATHER!!!!!!!!!

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Hi silver, You do make me laugh with the way you put things ( no offence meant) . I often find myself wishing i had a father that gave a **** instead of just donating his vile sperm, especially now my mum is dead but i guess there is no point in wishing for something that will never happen. Does your dad have a bowel incontinence problem? .Maybe get him some adult nappies to wear. I had to use them on my mum towards the end. I kinda get the crapping thing LOL. My mum had an incedent where the nurses gave her suppositeries because she hadn't been to the toilet in two weeks from all the morphine.Boy did they make her go. It was everywhere so much i never seen so much crap. My poor mum couldn't move she was too weak, so my brother and i had to carry her from the bed to the bathroom and hose her in the shower. I actually threw up more than once and i was up all night cleaning the mess up. All through the hall , her bed and clothes.I laugh about it now when i think of it but not at the time of course. The nurses rang me the next morning and asked if it did the job. My reply was, If you ever give them to my mum again you can shove them up your own arse. Is your dad unable to clean up himself?

I also hate all of my dad's side of the family. They are a bunch of arseholes and if i was desperate for help i would rather live in the gutter before i asked them. Haven't spoken to any of them in over 10 years and that's the way it can stay. They've no idea my mum is dead.Not that they would care of course but i wish it was all them that died.Isn't there any family to help with your dad to give you a break.

I'm sorry you have reached the year mark and eve too.

 

Lisa k

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Thanks, Eve and Lisa K--like Eve said, I'm also glad you are both here. I have no human contact otherwise.

 

Anyway, I think I am ready to implode and am still hyperventilating. I honestly think I am probably closer to a stroke or heart attack than my dad.

 

This evening, he just about broke the microwave. And not only that, he put all my clean pots in the sink for dirty dishes which meant I had to wash them all over again. Not surprisingly, I went on a screaming rampage. I yelled at him nonstop for 20 minutes and threw a ton of books at the wall. And now the cats are freaked out. (My dad hasn't just killed my mom; he's killing EVERYONE, human and non-human, in our family. HE SHOULD BE ARRESTED FOR MURDER!) My head is still spinning.

 

Ok, w/ that out of the way....my dad wears nappies, i.e., women's maxi pads--cos he's such a kunt. His problem is that he waits to the last possible moment when he's working on his garbage research (has been working on it for the last 12 years and has NOTHING to show for it). We once had a guest a few years ago when mom was still alive; out of politeness he waited until after she left to poop--then had diarrhea all over the floor. Mom was livid (you can now understand how he wore her out!) Like dad, why couldn't use just excuse yourself since mom was there anyway? 

 

Most of the time, it's sheer clumsiness and carelessness. As it is, he's always been sloppy. He never bothers to check to see if all of his poop lands in the toilet  before he starts tracking it all over the bathroom and into the hallways and other rooms. But the worst thing is his refusal to cooperate. That other day I had to argue w/ him for 15 minutes just to get him to change his slippers immediately. He did not respond at all...as if he were purposely ignoring me. Then he said he wanted to dress first.  I shoved him on the bed and said TAKE THEM OFF--NOW!  Then I had to go and spend another hour cleaning the hallway.

 

As for the microwave...the only time it's ever been messed up is during a power outage--and by dad. He put a fork in a plate of food.  What an idiot engineer. I rely quite a bit on the microwave for reheating and warming up: if it were to break down I'd have to go out and buy another ASAP, more money I can't afford to waste.

 

Of course, i'm also thinking how appropriate. My dad has not only broken our family and killed mom but is literally and figuratively breaking everything we own.

 

Trust me, it's worse than having a child. If he were a kid, I could at least give him a real good asswhupping--something his kunt mom probably never gave him. Instead, I'm yelling at the top of my lungs. It's no wonder I feel so exhausted and can't concentrate properly.

 

Not surprisingly, all of this is having repercussions on my work. I've missed deadlines before, but not this badly: I usually only ever ask for one extension. This year, I've had several extensions on both of my projects. The grief isn't helping as I get so depressed--and then have anger at my dad heaped on top of it all so that I wind up surfing, debating and posting too much.  He is destroying me.

 

Lisa, I liked your reply to the nurses--yeah, tell them to go shove it up their own butts! Right now, i'm about to launch into a tirade on some of those stupid, clueless, and irresponsible nurses so busy laughing and chatting at their stations while mom needed someone to help her with a bedpan. I know my mom would never do that! They were slow and lazy enough when my dad and I were there; I don't want to think what they were like when we weren't. Thinking about it just makes me want to commit suicide. I don't ever want to end up in a hospital by myself with no one to look out for me.

 

I hear you on your relatives too. None of my dad's relatives have reached out to us even though my mom was so nice to them. In fact, one of them stopped calling altogether. One of the facts of life: nothing from nothing leaves nothing. Absolute zeroes produce other absolute zeroes. Right now, I am not a huge fan of Obama but he definitely got it right when he said that being a father is not just about producing a child: it's caring for them as well.

 

I have no relatives near me at all. The closest is 3 states away: so no one can really help. 

 

Eve, that is precisely why I feel so blue whenever I see those women in their 80s and 90s....why couldn't mom be one of them? We always thought my dad would go first because he needs help with everything...such a wimp, moron, and all around useless human being. Dumber than our cats who at least do not make the same mistake twice!  And instead, the one who did most for our family died.  I resent that I have to take care of my mom's MURDERER! WERE IT NOT FOR HIM AND THE AHOLE DOCTORS, MY MOM MIGHT STILL BE ALIVE! GOD DAMN YOU DAD FOR KILLING MOM! 

 

I've decided that when my cats die, I will kill myself. There's no point in living when everyone and everything I love is gone. I hope no one thinks I'm being a drama queen; this is just the way things are for me.

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Oh crap!!! It did it to me again. I was about to post and the whole dayum thing disappeared. It's gonna be a whole lot shorter.

 

Silver, sorry tht your dad is giving you hell.

 

Eve, I agree with you that this is the only social contact that I have (besides from family). I've been trying to call my best friend, but, she never picks up. I text her and she texts me back to call her at 5:30PM. I did that today and she never picked up. The heck with it!

 

Lisa, my mom had a similar story like yours. Mom hadn't had a bowl movement in several days at the hospital. Mom was given prune juice through the feeding tube and it didn't help. They put a suppository in her. Since there wasn't anymore that the docs can do, they moved her into another room. As she was getting settled, I smelled poop and called the nurse. Watching how the nurses cleaned mom up. Man! I gotta hand it to them. The nurse was so. Even offered us coffee.

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Silver, i don't think you are being a drama queen at all. It just sounds like you have had enough.I'm sorry your dad is so difficult and such a handful.I feel your frustration, my brother drives me crazy a lot of the time. I hate living in filth and that is just how my brother lives.

I guess the difference is i don't hate my brother as such, i care about him and his wellbeing but i hate his disgusting habits.I can scream the house down to no avail and nothing changes.I've been woken up to the smell of burning, only to find he has left something on the stove and fallen asleep while the saucepan has boiled dry.This has happened more than once and i tell him no cooking after i have gone to bed.How nice it would be if the house burnt down on top of everything else. I nag him for days on end to clean up his dog's poo all over the yard.The dog has taken to crapping on the front path so you have to dodge land mines to get to the letter box. He just steps over them,it's like nothing registers. Everyday is nagging him to do things and i get fed up and lose my temper.Then i feel like a bitch cause i know he is feeling this loss too,on top of having the illness he has.

Everything was so much easier with our mums around to love us.Why did god punish us?. I don't really believe in god myself but it sure feels like the universe punishing us somehow.

Eve, my dad has never been part of our lives.He's a total scumbag.My mum and him split when i was 9months old and he remarried a bitch that told him he couldn't see us.He had to choose her or us, she won. He had 2 more kids with her both sons.When i was 26 his bitch separated with him for a while. He got his mother to contact us to see if we would meet him.Out of curiosity my brother and i agreed.

Oh he promised all sorts of crap,like how he wanted to get to know us and how he wouldn't walk away again.I never trusted him but my brother did. He didn't stick round for long once his bitch found out he was seeing us and all of a sudden she wants him back.I guess the spineless wimp chose her once again.They deserve each other and their two delinquent sons.I read not long ago his youngest son was up on fraud charges,doesn't surprise me at all.My brother was bitterley disappointed by what he did,all he ever wanted was a father that cared but instead he's alive while our mother is ashes.

Msn, are you feeling like your best friend is fobbing you off?I hope not for your sake.

Our poor mum's and the indignities they endured hey.

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silverkitties

Lisa, thank you for understanding--I say thanks to all those who've watched me bitch here.

 

I ask myself the same question: why mom? When she was so nice, and everything that mattered to me? The one who made my life worth living? 

 

Did I do something so rotten in my past life that I am paying for it now? I used to joke w/ my mom that I must have been a really, nasty, good-looking bitch in a previous life and I am now paying for it royally.

 

Being able to joke about it w/ mom took some of the pain away. And now I am left with the bitterness.

 

Lisa, what you said about yours truly resonated because it seems that most men only listen to their second wife/mistress. To hell with kids from their first marriage: second wives are usually seriously selfish bitches because they want to make sure THEIR kids get EVERYTHING!  I wonder too if your dad's attitude worsened your brother's condition. It's bad enough for those of us without problems to not have family support, but if your bro has schizophrenia, it probably gets exacerbated.

 

LOL about your brother and the saucepan. My dad has done that so many times--and he's a freaking engineer who should know better! Know that if you're cooking something like soup, you need to be in the kitchen!! My mom and I would tell him that all the time. Did he listen? Nope. We would sometimes return home to find the kitchen all smoky.  Naturally, we yelled at him. Then my dad had the gall to say to us "wish you 2 would never come back." WHAT KIND OF HUSBAND AND FATHER WOULD SAY THAT? ESPECIALLY WHEN HE'S WRONG?!

 

If my dad had some saving graces, I probably wouldn't hate him as much as I do. The fact is, he doesn't: he cheated on mom, pressured me unduly--esp when compared to other American kids, never encouraged my talents (this even had an influence on my mom as she only relented much later). He never gave me or my mom any presents either. Never took us on vacation--unless he happened to be going to a conference. He never took the time to teach me to drive either (which most fathers do)--and now wonders why I don't drive. I;ve told him "that's what you get for not teaching me!  Why don't YOU drive? You used to drive your mistress around Chicago all the time!!"

 

And meanwhile, in all the time he was pressuring me in school, he did squat professionally. W/ his educational background, he could have taught at better schools, but wound up fooling around w/. his kunt cousin.

 

You know, most of us know when we've done something wrong and we try to make up for it. My mom and I always did so.

 

But my dad feels entitled. Even though my mom has bent over backwards to him for his entire life--despite the fact she came from a much better family and her parents did not want them marrying (her mom was smart!). And how does he repay my mom? WITH NOTHING! I still resent him for cheating on mom for 50 years. Btw,. it would be bad enough if it were "only" before his heart attack, but he did it afterwards too!  One time he called us late at night from Taiwan--his time. (My parents went together but he said he had some work to finish up so he came back 2 weeks later.) We asked him where he was. He said a hotel. Which one. He said he didn't know. NOW, SERIOUSLY, HOW CAN YOU NOT KNOW WHAT HOTEL YOU'RE STAYING AT? I also heard a baby or young child crying in the background, although I couldn't tell if it was his TV. Or if it was some child he spawned with another kunt. Anyway, I said, dad, the name of the hotel is written on the phone. Or on the desk. He said he was going to look. There was no answer for some 10 minutes--and then the phone clicked. 

 

He must have been cheating on mom. This was just 4 years ago--7 years after his heart attack when mom nursed him from beginning to end.

 

Even after that, he never cooperated with us. He would get up very late, like in the late afternoons, thereby greatly inconveniencing my mom. We'd ask him to shower before 9 because water tends to cool down afterwards. Did he do so? No. We once had a huge argument about this from 10 pm through 5 am, where mom and I took turns yelling, screaming, and cussing at him. (In retrospect it's kind of funny even though I wonder if this stress caused my mom to succumb so fatally to her cancer.) Even after that he made no effort to change.

 

This is why every morning, noon, and night, I make sure to remind him that he killed mom. Some of my relatives say it's mean but I say you have no idea what I've had to put up with my entire life.

 

To all men who are reading this: I hope you learn some lessons! If you cheat on your wife, barely support your family, and pressure your kids while you slack off, DON'T BE SURPRISED IF YOUR FAMILY DOESN'T END UP HATING YOU MORTALLY!   All men like this deserve to be castrated!!!!!

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Silver, I understand the screaming matches all to well. Because my dad stopped paying maintenence to my mum for us kids she was forced to sell her house and we lived with my grandparents ever since. My mum hated her mother, they never got along and as kids the house was one big yelling match after another. My grandfather was such a good man,the sought of person that would give the clothes off his back. I worshipped the ground he walked on.Both my grandparents came to Australia from England in the 1920's and met each other later on.Back in 1984 they went back to england for a holiday and my dear grandfather died in the house he was born it. Massive heart attack he was dead before he hit the floor. It's almost fete i think.Anyway my grandmother came home without her husband and some years later my mother was her carer for 16yrs.She died back in october 1999 a week shy of her 90th birthday.Both my grandparents were 40yrs older than my mum so quite an age gap.My mother had the foulest temper on her i've ever known, i think i inherited part of it. Others don't see the sought of crap you have to tolerate so screw them if they think it's mean, they aren't there dealing with it daily. I'm sure some of the neighbours back then thought my mum a complete cow but they couldn't hear what my grandmother was saying just my mum screaming. I'm surprised no one ever called the cops to our house(LOL).My mother used to say her mother was a street angel devil at home, and at times she really was.She was a controlling selfish woman at times and my mum resented her.Some of the crap that went down in our house i still laugh about to this day although maybe others wouldn't find it amusing.

One night my mum and grandmother were arguing at the dinner table, my grandmother was winding my mum up over something and the next minute my mum upends the table on my gran.

Another incident they had spag bol for tea and an argument errupted about something so my mum hurls the bolagnaise over my grandmother. There was spaghetti hanging off her glasses and all over her and all i could do was laugh.God help anyone in my mothers way when she was angry.

Every room in this house has good/bad memories over the years, one of the bedroom doors has a crack from my mothers fist from years ago.

Despite all this i still loved her with every fibre of my being even though she was no angel.God i could go on forever but don't want to bore you.

Hope your having an ok day

Lisak

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silverkitties

Those were fascinating details, Lisa--although I have to admit I cracked up at the thought of your mom dumping the spaghetti on her mom--sounds like something out of a movie! How did your mom react to her loss? 

 

My mom and hers had really short fuses: I think I take after them!  I've never seen my grandma erupt but only heard stories from my mom. What was bizarre was when my mom was deteriorating, she started having nightmares that I was her mom. She used to say I was worse. Evidently, hers would get seriously angry when she peed herself--and I guess the accidents she was increasingly having reminded her of it. (Btw, I  blame the asshole docs for the meds--and refusing to contemplate an alternative!) Not to mention that I unfortunately would sometimes yell at her like that time I urged her to go to the bathroom since it had been 2 hours after her last trip there. She refused for 10 minutes--then peed all over the floor. I had a raging fit. Sometimes I'd lose my temper at night. I;d be just about fall asleep, then she'd wake me up to help her pee.

 

My dad, on the other hand, is nowhere near as irritable and very slow to anger. But when he does, he can be quite violent. The asshole tried to spank me when I was 16 after I called him dic*less, along w/ a few slurs. He also threw plates at my mom when she called him "retarded." (Have you ever noticed how stupid people hate being called retarded?)  I suppose I 'm a combination of both of my parents: I erupt quickly and hard, although I don't tend to wreak physical violence on anyone, or at least not anymore. (My mom claims I pinched my dad so hard that he was black and blue for 3 weeks that time he tried to spank me.)

 

When mom and I had fights in the past, they were serious fights: lots of slamming doors and book throwing at the walls--and especially in the last year.  This usually happened whenever my mom insisted on defending dad; it would usually take about a day of silent treatment for things to simmer. The last 3 months were perhaps the worst because our nerves were so high. I would get mad at mom for refusing to eat and she would escalate it, threatening to puke in my face. Or times when she'd go "why can't you be like so and so; she's so nice." One time I slammed the bathroom door so hard the full-length mirror broke...I immediately thought of that old superstition about 7 years of bad luck. Would you know it, but mom died 3 weeks after it happened...

 

I'd give anything to have my mom back--fights and all. We had our good and bad times-- our laughs, tears, and arguments: and I'd say the good times far outweighed the bad.

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You certainly are not being a drama queen, Silverkitties. I've known you for 5mo (I think) and you've been consistent about your dad. You don't change your story around. When they're of age, they're are like kids. I can relate...at times. Looking back, there were times when I yelled at mom. I wished I never did. Elders think a lot slower. I feel the effects of that. Damn strokes!! 

 

I yelled at mom after my strokes. The last year was brutal for me. None of my sisters has ever cleaned moms accidents, but, of course, the majority of times it happens when they are at work....I said majority. My older sis helped me one time. My sisters-in-law were at home, but, I don't think they world bother to help. Imagine cleaning with one hand then helping her get in the tub to wash her. Remember, she was wheelchair bound, too.

 

I'm not saying I yelled at mom because she had an accident, but, other things like constantly calling me every second, not letting me sleep, constant wheeling her to the restroom. I remember there were 3 nights in a row that mom wouldn't let me sleep. Her leg was hurting her and I'd get up and massage her leg. The minute I'd get back in bed she's call me again to massage. After a few times of this back-and-forth, I knew it would be a sleepless night. I'd get up and make coffee while mom "sleeps". I'd sit down in front of the computer with my coffee. Then, I'd hear mom calling me. So, literally, the whole night I did squats--get up from chair, walk 16 steps to the room, massage mom or whatever, walk back and sit down, then less that 60 sec mom calls again. It sounds like I'm exaggerating, but, I'm not at all. I even wrote down the times. During the 3 days, I don't think I even got 10 hrs of sleep total. There were many many days like this. Your mind goes crazy, you snap at family, constantly tired, numb.

 

Your dad has really stuck a knife into you and you mom's back. I'm so sorry you guys endured so much because of his stupidity on cheating. Have you ever seen or met his cousin? 50 years of cheating?! That's a long time. Did your parents want a divorce or something? Such a shame. Did your mother know how to drive? If yes, couldn't you have learned from her instead? 

 

Lisa, it's so dangerous about your brother using the saucepan. My sister's mother-in-law did the same thing. She had early Alzheimer. She would cook something in a pot and forgets about it. They have a stove and wok in the garage....just like we do, too. Later, her Alzheimer got worse where she would get knives from the drawer and point it at someone, She would get up in the middle of the night, open the front door and yell at someone deceased (I think) to wait for her. Kind of scary! Good thing that they have a gate that's locked.

 

So, Lisa, is it only you and your brother living together? You are a very good sister taking care of your brother with an illness. It's a lot of stress on you. Is your father still in the picture?

 

I sympathize with both, Silver and Lisa, having to endure all the pain of your father. I never experience the doings of my asshole dad. Btw, he's in the Asshole Club. He died when I was a baby. So, I never knew him. He was a husband and father abuser. He stole money what little we had to support his drug habit. We were poor back home in China. There were 6 siblings. Mom would skip meals so that the children could eat. I don't know and don't care for my father at all. I found out my dad abused my mom about 10 years ago. None of my siblings ever told me. Mom told me one day that dad beat her and thought she was joking, then I started to cry.

 
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silverkitties

MSN, you poor thing, with your stroke too! Again, I don't know if I'd be able to handle it. It was difficult enough handling mom w/ out any serious health issues on my part. I can only imagine what those three nights w/ 10 hrs sleep must have felt like.

 

My problem is insomnia. My mom would call me up several times a night--and it would be right before I was about to fall asleep: this was around July.  She was also very restless: she would continually pick at her sheets which made it even more difficult for me to sleep. It wasn't until much later that I read that it was supposed to be a sign of approaching death.

 

It was a combination of stress over mom, stress over my own work, and just the sheer unpredictability of it all. My mom had always been so tough and strong that I simply didn't even think she was already dying. Had I known, I would not have lost my temper so much and so often.

 

Yeah, your dad definitely sounds like part of the asshole club! I guess you were fortunate you never got to meet him.

 

The problem w/ my mom is that she always had hope for my dad and would constantly deny it even though it was clear to me he was cheating on her. I would urge her to get a divorce--telling her, mom I think he's going to kill you one day. You bust your ass working for him while he breaks your heart. YOU NEED A DIVORCE!

 

And she would say "Well, he gave her up."

 

"How do you know mom?"

 

She never had a reply.

 

She had a chance to confront that woman in Taiwan but didn't. If that were me, I would have ripped her to shreds. In fact, I've told mom and dad that if I ever go to Taiwan, it will be for the sole purpose of destroying that kunt.

 

It's one of the things that bugs me about BOTH of my parents: I predicted just about everything that happened to a T--and both ignore my advice. Then they (esp. my Dad) says "It's too bad, it happened. Can't take it back." This is why I HATE HIS GUTS!

 

P.S. Btw, you're right: we've known each other for about 5 months. Isn't that amazing?

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Silver, when my grandmother died i think my mum felt a mixture of relief and sadness.She always wished for a close relationship with her mother but she was selfish in lots of ways and liked getting her own way. many a time growing up she threw tantrums over stuff and my grandad would always give in to keep the peace. Plus the last few years my grandmother had dementia and she was deaf, so mum had to scream at her so she could hear.I was never close to her either,in some ways resented her especially towards my teen years.My granmother would kick up a stink whenever mum and i wanted to spend time alone going somewhere.She would say things like it'd be nice if i was invited,and my mum saw red saying i'm entitled to spend time with my own daughter without you. The fighting was constant day in day out.My grandmother hated bad language so mum would use every word she could lay her tongue to.She would call my gran an old c.nt and my grandmother would be horrified.LOL my mum was wicked at times even went so far as dropping her pants and throwing a brown eye at her own mum.Imagine doing that,I laughed myself stupid at it. Sometimes it was like watching a cartoon between the two of them.One day my grandmother spat on my mum in an argument so my mum did it right back.I thought that was gross.Growing up i thought i lived in the most dysfunctional family on earth.Probably some things are not fit to put on here.

I got angry at mum too for always getting me out of bed but i had no idea what was wrong with her.She had terminal agitation which is common when someone is dying.Mum was like it the last 5 weeks of her life and the nurses only told me about it the day before she died.Like thanks for telling me this now.I was so tired and i was up for 48hrs straight one time and i lost it completely.

I think we all were tired and stressed and scared how things would end so i guess we did our best.

MSN,I don't know how you did it either having had a stroke yourself.You deserve a medal i feel.

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silverkitties

Lisa, I already like your mom--she sounds like such a character! I can really see where she's coming from. There can sometimes be a huge barrier between parents and children with a 40-year gap in addition to belonging to different cultures. (Here, i'm assuming there's probably some difference between UK and Australian culture even if the Queen is still  your monarch). My mom was 31 years older than me, my dad 33. Folks from the "Old World" do tend to be more traditional and are not used to outbursts. I noticed this in England, esp. with elderly people.

 

Yes, I've called my mom a kunt too--and my mom used to hate me cursing people: which I sometimes did just to tick her off. We would have some truly rip-roaring fights: most of the time it was over my dad and his general idiocy--his refusal to see logic and shrugging it off after he had been proven wrong. My mom also had an annoying habit of straightening up everything--including my books and papers--which ticked me off because I would have to sort through again. Another time, I had my books sorted by subject matter--spent an entire afternoon and evening doing it--and the following week, she resorted them, stacking them by size. I hit the roof. 

 

Right now, my study looks like a landmine w/ papers and books everywhere. But it's easier for me to find what I need.

 

Having said that, what would I give to have mom back again. We had a very intense relationship: something I don't think she had with her mom since she had 8 brothers and sisters, whereas I am an only child. Mom and I fought, but we mostly enjoyed each other's company. We had good times with me working at the computer while mom was watching her Japanese programs on TV. Sometimes I'd browse and she would look; or we would watch a fashion show on my screen. We enjoyed gardening, although we were seldom together doing it; she'd be at one end of the house, I'd be at the other. And that evening, we'd watch TV together.

 

I have not had it in me to garden this year; all the roses seemed to die last year since I had no time to tend to them as my mother was dying (little did we actually realize it.) There are no flowers in our garden at all, except for the rhododendrons in May. It's as though life stopped when mom died.   I'm thinking of designing a spot in the garden for her next year.

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Silver, my mother very definately was a character. Sometimes i couldn't believe some of the things she'd say and do. my grandparents were very old school so often had differing opinions on the sort of things that were open for discussion. I'm sure they wondered how on earth they ended up with a daughter like my mum. She was also an only child, hence the age difference between her parents. They had tried for years to concieve and eventually ended up with my mum. According to my grandmother , my mum always had a temper on her even as a young child.But my grandfather was pig headed and self opinionated and always thought he was right.But he was truly a wonderful good man.Everything from their era was kept behind closed doors, so no talking about sex or anything remotely related to that topic.Once my mum told me as a teenager she got busted by her father having sex with her boyfriend in her parents room. Holy crap i can only imagine how my grandad must have reacted to that!. Just the image in my warped mind makes me laugh like hell. My grandad was also really homophobic and thought anyone gay was the scum of the earth(LOL) i'm glad he's not alive today cause he would end up with his head bashed in voicing those sort of opinions.I guess it's just their era and how they were raised.My mother did have a close relationship with her father and when he died (i was ten at the time)She was inconsolable. I don't think she ever got over losing him.

Life after he passed just got worse with my mum and grandmother and the constant daily arguments.It's like he held the whole family together and once he was gone nothing was ever the same.Some of the things my mum used to say to my grandmother were unbelievable, sometimes it was purely to get a rise out of her, she truly was wicked at times but i wouldn't have her any other way.

My mother was very open minded shall i say, so no topic was off limits ,hilarious sometimes.

My mum loved the garden too and she spent all her time doing it. This past year so many things have died due to lack of water and weeds everywhere.It was her passion and it feels so depressing looking out the window and not seeing her down there.Bit by bit i'm cleaning it up because she had such a beautiful garden and i don't want it lost. A huge job though as it's such a large garden but i'm determined to have it looking good again.I did try to keep on top while looking after mum but it was impossible.

Both my grandparents ashes are scattered up the back underneath their favourite tree and my mum wanted her ashes scattered in the garden too but i'm just not ready to do it.

Designing a spot in the garden for your mum sounds like a lovely idea, especially if your mum loved the garden.I'm finding just sitting in her garden empty and lonely but i want to do it for her.

Hope your having ok day

Lisak

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silverkitties

My day was reasonably OK, Lisa--how was yours? 

 

My parents had problems conceiving me too: in fact, mom miscarried 3x before she had me. That's why on bad days, I always find myself wishing I had been miscarried too. I think one of the issues we have in our family is that my parents and I are control freaks in our own unique ways; the fact that mom and dad were both oldest children while I was an only child meant that we can all be stubborn and persistent. My mom was obsessed with cleanliness and finance. I am with my own work and my appearance: mom used to laugh at me for wearing makeup just to do garbage. My dad only cared for his work and his kunt. I sometimes call his work his second kunt because he tends to that to the expense of everything else. (Even though he's retired and his research is hardly lucrative at all.) Seriously, he should not have married. I really resent having to do all the work in the house and have little time for my own even though I'm the one who needs to find a fulltime job; I might as well not find one if I can't finish the book.

 

That's interesting what you said about your mom's relationship with her dad; it sounds like mine w/ my mom. My mom is the only one who ever understood and tolerated all my idiosyncrasies even if she didn't at first. Towards the end, she had a certain tolerance for all my temper, cussing, and dirty humor; we'd laugh over it at times--something dad has never been able to do.   I think her failed relationship w/ my dad probably did that--even tho' she didn't really want to acknowledge it. It was probably then that she realized that not everything he said was right.

 

Welcome to the gross garden club! I joke that my garden looks like Grey Gardens...last year and this, it looked really horrific, all full of weeds. But what else can you do when your mom is deteriorating right in front of your very eyes? This year I had to finish my book and article--stuff that was held out from last year. You could tell there were frogs in our yard too because we'd hear them croaking at night--first time ever. Thankfully, there's a guy who mows our lawn so that the entire place did not look like a total mess. They finally got rid of all the weeds 3 weeks ago.

 

The only thing I did this year and last was pick mulberries: and even when I was doing that, I kept thinking of mom. Kept remembering how she'd tell me, "don't pick all of them. Leave some for the birds and other animals." What a sweetie.

 

I just didn't have the energy to do the roses and peonies like I used to, knowing that the activity would remind me so sorely of mom. As it is, I always hear this part of the lyrics from Sinead O'Connor's "Nothing compares"--

 

"All the flowers that u planted, mama
In the back yard
All died when u went away
I know that living with u baby was sometimes hard
But I'm willing to give it another try"

 

(Btw, did you know Sinead recorded it for her mother who had just died then?) Hopefully, I can get my act together and do a beautiful design for mom next summer. I guess that will be our new projects for our moms, Lisa!

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Fragrantcloud, I'm so glad that you're back. We were wondering and worried about you. Like Eve said, "Don't leave this time."  ;) I understand you are still hurting in every which way...not being able to sleep and eat. I still miss mom and still cry. It's been 7 mo and 7 days today. When you don't feel like typing, if you want, just say, "I'm here and okay." just so we know you're alright. Like Hurtingdaughter, none of us has heard from her and she is no longer a member of this forum. She posted a goodbye letter. I'm afraid for the worse. Kirsten we care lot of about you and I'm SO glad you're here.I consider everyone here my friend or sister.

 

I have you to thank for this thread, Eve. I came on board just in time when you asked us if it's a good idea to post on this thread instead of opening a new one every time. 

 

This will be the first time Thanksgiving and Christmas without my mom.  :( It definitely wouldn't be the same without mom. I can't buy things for mom or take her out to eat anymore. Mom was never wanted to go out and eat. Probably the last 5 or 6 years she wanted to go just a kid wanting to go to McDonalds. Mom was so funny! She would try to make excuses to buy take-out food every. Several times she made up an excuse saying two of the grandchildren wanted burgers, but, they didn't even say that.  :P  So, I bought her Chic-Fil-A. Mom was like a kid. She loved anything sweet-n-sour--BBQ sauce and ketchup are her favorite.

 

I think about this A LOT and I cry every single time I think about it. When mom was in hospice, did mom know that she was going to d--? I'm sorry, but, I still cannot say the "D" word. Was she hungry? The doctor said that they don't feel hunger. I know that mom was thirsty. I'd ask her if she wanted water and she would squeeze my hands in response. We can only give her water drops at a time using a swab. Times when I swab her mouth, she sucks on it and won't let go. I think because she's very thirsty. 

 

I'm sorry, I'll have to finish tomorrow. I'm crying too much.  :sad:  :sad:

 

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I had no idea Sinead recorded that song for her mother.I always liked that song and how apt the lyrics are looking at the garden.I don't think i could listen to it at the moment though, any depressing music is out for me right now.

Your mum obviously enjoyed some wildlife in her garden.She must be a good woman! How lovely to have frogs,i think they are beautiful but i love wildlife myself so did my mum.Most of the plants she has attract native birds which i love.It's a haven for small lizards too.We even have a bush turkey that grew up in our yard as a chick.I fell in love with the dam thing so did my mum even though it digs up the garden.She comes and goes from the yard and now all i think of is my mum when it comes for a feed.It's spring here now so i'm doing a bit of gardening each day.My mum had a real green thumb,something i don't have but i will try.I hate the thought of all her hard work just going to the pack.

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I first heard "Nothing compares" when I was breaking up w/ a BF of 4 years: he was a guy I wanted so, so badly.  What was interesting was that the one part where I did not think about him was that verse about "mama': I thought literally of my mother since she was one my comfort those 3 months.

 

I continued to think of that verse whenever mom went abroad....and now it hits me hard. I was googling it when I got home from my dad's doc appt. This is what she said in an interview:

 

"The close-up of me singing “Nothing Compares 2 U” was supposed to be only one part of the video. But the song reminded me of my mother, who had died three years previously … I made an emotional connection, which I was not expecting—it didn’t hit me when I was recording the song. It only kicked in when I was being filmed. So I was sitting there, thinking about me mother, and trying hard not to bawl my eyes out."

 

(I was wrong about her mother having just died.)

 

I know this song will be running through my head w. a vengeance when I begin my plantings in the spring; as it was, I was already thinking of it last year and this whenever I saw the rose bushes standing bare. Like the flowers, my mom was the only one who brought color and beauty into my life.

 

For some reason, my mom did not like squirrels. Every time they came about, she would squirt water at them. I remember one day there were about 6 of these fluffy buggers sitting around the tree; LOL, it looked like a conference.  I had to show it to my mom who said "they're probably sitting complaining that the old bitch. squirted them." She wasn't too crazy about rabbits either although she tolerated them a little better; they are supposed to be "lucky."  I do like them; I always used to take pics of them...and I once saw 4 of them chasing each other.

 

There are supposedly bobcats, coyotes, foxes, and bears around here: our town used to have the highest bear count in the area. Unfortunately, I've not seen any these--except a fox running away. But it's one of the reasons why my mom would wait at the porch, ready to call the police if I got attacked by one of these critters. I love bobcats--like this adorable mama and baby. I love this picture:

 

https://img0.etsystatic.com/044/0/8868740/il_fullxfull.534412478_b2nu.jpg

 

Of course, if you see a mama and baby, run--mamacats are very protective!

 

MSN, my mom became very childlike too: she wanted everything--so uncharacteristic since she was always trying not to buy. The sad thing is that although she would be excited to go to a restaurant, she would not eat much. If it was American food, she would say she preferred Chinese. If it was Chinese, she would say she wanted American.  Her tastes changed too. Whereas both of us used to enjoy hot and spicy--unlike my wimpy dad who likes everything "mild" (sign of a male kunt!)--my mom could not longer tolerate it; she would only like sweets.

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silverkitties

Dear God, PLEASE KILL MY FATHER--NEXT WEEK, NEXT MONTH BUT DEFINITELY BY THE END OF THE YEAR! This man is truly a poster child for aborition, castration, neutering, and sterilization.

 

I simply cannot tolerate this dumb phuck anymore. 

 

Dad is a dildo, dingdong (or dingdung), dinkydick, dipshit, ditz, dodo, doodoo, doofus, dork, dullard, dung. He ought to D-I--I-I-E-E-E-E!!!!!!!!!

 

This week has been especially frustrating. He eats shittloads so I constantly have to wash dishes--and I've told him many a time USE THE GODDAMN PAPER BOWLS PLATES BECAUSE I HAVE NO TIME TO WASH. That sink takes so long to drain, just like his dumb brain cells, or what passes for them.

 

Well, he ain't listening. I have been screaming at him "Die, die, die, die, die" so many times at the top of my lungs while throwing books at the wall, one resounding smack after another--until I all but lost my voice  It's a good thing our neighbors don't live too close or they would think someone was practicing their bloodcurdling screams for Halloween or that someone was indeed being murdered. 

 

HE SHOULD HAVE DIED, NOT MOM! THIS WORTHLESS PIECE OF GARBAGE IS PURPOSELY TRYING TO SABOTAGE ME BECAUSE HE HAS NO BOOKS AND NOTHING WORTHY OF A PHD AND PROFESSOR. LOSER!

 

PLEASE DIE, SCUMDAD!

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WOW, this is some vent silver!! LOL calling your dad a dildo! They are at least useful i suppose. You sound so like my mum.

She told her mother everyday how much she wished she would die. My mother had zero patience with her mother so it was always constant yelling and my mum smashing stuff in frustration.I know what you mean with the neighbours,but we are not lucky,the houses are close together and I was always sure they'd call the police.My mum used to scream I'm going to kill you!!Outsiders have no idea the stress of looking after someone . My grandmother had a fall one day and cut her arm quite bad so we called an ambulance and she went to hospital. We didn't know she wouldn't be coming home ever again, but in emergency she was calling my mum a bitch at the top of her lungs and they are the last words she said to my mother before she went into a delerium which she never came out of,and two weeks later she died.I always felt my mum would be happy she got her wish, but when she was told she had terminal cancer she felt it was kalma for the way she treated her mum.I think she had lots of regret.I told her kalma is crap if you look how many sickos there are in society that are still alive.People that rape and murder still get to live so where is the kalma.

I'm just sorry things are so hard with your dad. Is he able to anything to help around the house?

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Lisa, it's fascinating how people talk about karma....and yet, if there were, my mom would still be alive and my cheating, irresponsible dad who more or less killed her would be dead. He should be the one suffering a painful cancer!

 

And while we're at it, all those nasty politicians who've declared and approved of unnecessary wars would get it too--along with the boobs who've caused the financial crisis. But alas, it always looks like the biggest aholes win, and win big. 

 

The problem w/ my dad is that he;s stubborn and refuses to listen. For instance, he should have gotten a hearing aid, but refused. He said it would make him look stupid. I said, and if you don't get one, you will look even dumber! As such, I have to yell at him all the time. And because he barely pays attention, I have to yell several times. For instance, I told him not to pour water from his cup into the kettle because his cups are rarely clean. Well, guess what? He did--so I had to wash out the kettle by hand since it's not dishwasher safe.

 

I've also told him to go down to exercise earlier so he can eat earlier and go to bed earlier. Does he? No. He always has an excuse/ Even though I tell him every night, "GOING TO BED LATE DOES NOT MAKE YOU A SCHOLAR!"

 

I don't really need him to help--just cooperation, which he refuses. He could have gone back to driving which most men who've suffered heart attacks do; in fact, he kept saying he was going to do so last year but didn't--even though he made me get the garage door fixed. One excuse after another. The thing that really irriates me right now is that we need to fix the roof--and we barely have enough to do so. I've said to him many times before, he needs to do consulting: especially since he's screwed up our finances royally by failing to get all of his pension back. Since he spends so much time working on his garbage research, why doesn't he do something more productive that PAYS? It's not like he's totally incapacitated since he sits up past midnight writing his crap.  He just doesn't want to help the family, period.

 

It really is as though he were trying to sabotage my work. And unless I finish this book, it will be very difficult for me to find permanent work.

 

I suppose I might feel guilty when the asshole dies. But right now I don't: he's screwed me and mom one too many times. If he made some attempt to cooperate, maybe I'd be more forgiving, but he takes everything for granted.

 

p.s. I love that bird in your pic! Is s/he your pet?

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Silver, the bird in the picture is a cockatiel that I found on the internet,but I have four pet cockatiels myself plus a six week old chick thanks to the breeding pair I have.

My grandmother was a stubborn woman just like your dad. She also was deaf and was told she needed a hearing aid in both ears but she wouldn't pay for two even though she had the money. She only had one hearing aid and because of this the hearing in her other ear got worse. My mother always said she was stubborn to the point of stupidity.In lots of ways she was and she was selfish at times.

My mum always had to scream at her so she could hear and even then she still couldn't most of the time.Deafness on top of dementia was a recipe for murder.

You have good reason to hate your dad for cheating alone and all the stress he imposes on you.Just because he is your father doesn't mean you must love him.Love is earnt and that is how I feel about my own father,not that I know him well but I point blank refused to call him dad.I would only call him by his name because he never earnt the title dad.I wish he was dead instead of my mum. He's about as useful as tits on a bull.All he is to me is a sperm donor.

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Your grandmother sounds like the spitting image of my dad, Lisa. Yep, that's right: stubborn to the point of stupid!

 

What makes it especially terrible on his end is that he's educated to know better. None of his colleagues are like that. None of the Ph.D's I know are like that. He is his own unique category to put it politely. Unlike them, he is not a doughnot, but a sugarpowdered turd.

 

You know, if my dad had ever been supportive in one or another, I would be less resentful. If he were nicer to my mom and stopped cheating altogether after she nursed him back to health after his heart attack, I might be able to forgive him. Ditto if he were more considerate to mom and me during her bout with cancer (and after he phucked up our electric circuit so we had to spend $600-700; after he made my mom drive back and forth between downtown and our house because he totally ignored her telling him that she was going to wait for him outside the bookstore; after he made her give a big party right before taxes, etc.) And ditto too had he written an obituary for Mom for the Taiwanese newspapers (he probably didn't want to make his kunt mistress' family feel bad). 

 

I sincerely hope this worthless sperm donor gives up the ghost soon--your Halloween holiday pun:) I genuinely feel he's trying to kill me too--or at the very least, sabotage my work so I can't find a fulltime job. It's indicative from the fact that this asshole has never congratulated me in these last 4 years: not for a teaching award nomination, not for a book contract, not for any articles. It's my mom who's been behind me from beginning to end.

 

No, there is no karma. He should be dead, not my dear sweet mom who sacrificed everything for us!

 

P.S. You will have to tell us about the progress of the baby cockatiel! Hope he has a great mommy and that daddy is not a schmuck!

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Silverkitties and Lisa, you guys seem to be on the same boat with your dads. I'm glad that I never knew my SOB dad who's a wife and father abuser. He died when I was a baby. He used to beat my mom and stole money (of what little we had) to support his drug habit. Asshole!!

 

What is you dad researching on Silver? What's his specialty? Him not getting a hearing aid is making life much harder on you. Constantly having to yell and repeat. Maybe tell him like when he goes to exercise, he wouldn't be able to hear if someone is following him. He'd be the best candidate or opportunity for a robbery. Scare him and maybe he'll have second thoughts.

 

Lisa, do you still have contact with your father? I think I recall the last time I read was that he went back to the other woman. Please accept my apologies if I'm mistaken. I have been very forgetful at times. I can't think of words I'm trying to spit out. It took me about 10 minutes to think of the word "support" and "candidate"....and that's for each word.

 

I can't even think of family names and I see them every day. I'm scared just thinking about how it will affect me later on. I think it has a lot to do with the 2 strokes I had and part of my brain is dead. I think I had a 3rd stroke, but, it wasn't on record. I felt just like when I had my 2nd minor stroke. At first, I thought because was tired and took a nap. I felt kind of lightheaded. I called my doctor and said to take my BP. My BP monitor wasn't reliable, so, I went to Walmart to check and it was very low. You could also get a stroke from very low blood pressure.

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MSN, my dad works on combustion and fluid mechanics. He really ought to be studying the stuff that comes out of the intestines :) Or the physics of the toilet. You know, like how to build a toilet with a flush so powerful that all the turds can disappear at one flush. Not that he would know as his head is like a giant public toilet that is out of order and is all full of shitt because the flusher is not working.

 

And yes, his refusal to get a hearing aid is annoying as phuck. Today, he used the bathroom downstairs even though I told him not to yesterday. I hope he dies by year end, useless dirty dumbass dogshit. Really, he should have died, not mom!

 

Take care with your work, MSN: we don't want you to suffer another stroke! We need your presence here and do not want to imagine this site without you :wub:  Your siblings and relations should be helping or at least cooperating more with you.

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. Next time when you don't want him to use the bathroom, write a note and stick it on the door "DoYou crack the hell out of me, Silverkitties!   :D You sure have a way with words. First paragraph last sentence Not Use". 

 

Awww thank you for your kind words.  :blush:  :wub:  :) I plan to be around for a long time, but, at the same time no matter if I'm doing things right, never know if Heaven's knocking. I should be walking but I haven't been because my ankle bone is swollen. I think it's been maybe over two weeks. When I went walking my leg brace was rubbing against my ankle bone. It's releasing some moisture.

I tried to walk the other day. I went down two house lengths and I was back home because it still hurts. I'm going to try again tomorrow. I really miss waling. I'm really surprised as to why the leg brace did that to me. It never happened to me before. I think it's the shoes.  :angry2:

 

My stroke side always take a long time to heal. If I have a cut or bruise, it'll be a long time before it heals. 

 

 

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Ouch, that sounds really painful, MSN! Is there any way to get the leg brace refitted? Or is indeed the shoes?

 

I rarely get any exercise: unless, of course, housework constitutes exercise. Today, I just cleaned out the giant cat carrier that I used this summer. I feel like there is never enough time for my own work. Between chores and yelling at my obtuse dad who never listens and does not want to get a hearing aid, I feel too stressed to concentrate.

 

Please, Santa, I'm begging you for an extra special Xmas gift: PLEASE KILL MY MOM'S MURDERER, AKA SCUMDAD. A heart attack or stroke would be most desirable. Please convince him to commit suicide. He has plenty of belts to hang himself from the ceiling. Please let him take one dose too many. My screaming at the top of my lungs  H-U-R-R-Y UP AND D-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I--E-E-E-E!! D-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-IE-E-E! D-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-E-E   (10x) and throwing books at the wall DOES NOT SEEM TO BE WORKING YET!

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