Synchronicities are a part of life; however, when they occur it can be a complete surprise leaving one to wonder about the meaning of the two events linked by such happenings. Since nothing really happens by accident, the next step is to contemplate the deeper meaning.
Several weeks ago, while staying overnight at a hotel, I decided to go to the Club Room on the 2nd floor for tea. There I saw a woman with very bushy mid length blonde hair, knee-high boots and a short car coat in front of me at the machine. I made a silly comment to get her attention since we were the only two people in the room and I desired some conversation, even momentarily. When she turned around and began to speak, I realized that she was not from the US, based on her demeanor and her quick willingness to tell me that she was in fact from Argentina. I feel a tie to people from Argentina as I travel there yearly to dance tango.
Her response opened the door to a brief conversation wherein she told me that her profession was in real estate, that she had family in DC and was preparing to fly to NY the next morning very early. She added that she needed a smaller suitcase for the quick three-day visit (rather than take her larger suitcase with her) as well as needing a warmer coat due to the cold spell along the East Coast. She planned to head out to find both these items shortly. Her name was Susan. I opted to leave it alone and said goodbye leaving for my own room rather than put myself “out there” by offering to help her find the items that she mentioned.
Upon my return to the room, while arranging my things for later that evening, this crazy feeling came over me that I was supposed to help the Argentine lady. But I had missed the opportunity or so I thought. Looking at my watch, I realized that I had a two-hour window before going to my event that evening leaving plenty of open time to go out for a short walk.
When I went downstairs 30 minutes had passed since my visit to the Hospitality room and my meeting Susan. I was shocked to see her at the front desk speaking in Spanish with the desk clerk about where to go to get the desired items. From among the words that I didn’t understand, “Nordstrom Rack” was very clear. I thought how convenient it would be to have a store that has a variety of things and most likely a great store for what she wanted. Since I was planning to take a walk and it didn’t matter where I walked, I went out with her.
Knowing each other for 15 minutes didn’t matter either. We were instant friends and went out together to find the store as dusk approached. I felt like her personal shopper helping her find each article that she wanted with the same expertise that I use for my own shopping adventures. And she was overjoyed with the help. What color? How do you want it to fit? She was used to metric and not our system, so sizes and inches didn’t make sense to her. The same was true for the suitcase. I quickly found items and showed them to her, and she tried on the coat that said yea or nay but found one she liked for a reasonable amount. Then the suitcase which she wanted for carryon. What color? How big? I knew the brands and what was good. She was grateful and, in turn, I felt good. Then I had to return to the hotel, while she wanted to stay to shop more for her kids and grandkids.
She wanted to do something for me – like a tea or a meal. But I said, not to worry, and went back to the hotel. Upon leaving for my event later that evening, I asked the front desk clerk if she had gotten back ok and he said yes. I was happy knowing that she returned safely.
I went on to my event feeling like my mission was accomplished. I was called to serve, and I had been of service.
We often hear about making lemonade from lemons but sometimes we don’t know what will come from our challenges. Here’s an inspiring story of one person’s heartbreaking issue that had a happy ending.
You see there is a very nice guy named Emmanuel that plays tango music with his bandoneon. He’s a wonderful player, but in coming to this country as an immigrant, he didn’t have medical insurance. About two years ago he was diagnosed with cancer and had huge medical bills. There was a “Go Fund Me” effort arranged for him, in which I participated to help him financially, and with much love he went through many months of chemotherapy. He wrote very poetic messages on Facebook of how he was doing, almost like lyrics of tango music.
I followed his treatment along with the photos that he posted, sometimes in his hospital gown, but always with a positive attitude. As time went on those in the tango community wondered whether Emmanuel would beat the big C? Would he live through his illness? And then we started to see him playing his beloved instrument again here and there. Just a short performance at first with him looking so frail. And then more and more. Until the other night, I saw him smiling with a young lady nearby.
The story has a very happy ending. Emmanual told me that he got married. The surprise is that he married his oncology nurse! Wow, I stood there in amazement. The joy that he got from having Cancer that he would have never know if he’d never gotten sick. What a mixed blessing! He was beaming as he told me. I’m so happy for him.
There is an adage about making lemonade from lemons. This is a great idea until it’s you that has the challenge in your path. Perhaps it’s an illness, the loss of a loved one, or a physical injury – for example. It could also be smaller occurrences such as not getting the raise that you expected, someone treating you in an unkind manner, or just missing a connection on a trip. It can be anything – when it happens to YOU, it’s different. It feels different and it really hits home because it is home. It’s YOU. This is normal. But how you react to these situations, both big and small, is what makes the difference in your life. In this article, I’m going to discuss these curveballs that life throws at us and how we may or may not react to them.
In my almost ¾ of a century on earth, I’m finding that making lemonade out of lemons is not so easy when it’s YOU that the lemons are happening to. When it’s my mother that has gotten sick and I must run around the country to take care of her. And then when it’s my mother that dies, it’s very difficult. I hear many people in my generation who have lost a parent, but not until it happened to ME, and I lost my MOTHER, did I really understand what it felt like. In addition, I didn’t understand how much I had to do to settle her accounts, etc. after she died. So, when other people told me about it, I just nodded my head. NOW I get it and will have more emotional intelligence and will provide more empathy to others when I hear this.
Other people get sick. Some get better and some don’t. They live with illness and others die. Some continue to go out dancing with this issue or that. When I hear about it, I say how sorry I am and then continue dancing. It isn’t me that has the problem. I feel bad that it’s happening to them, but there isn’t anything that I can do about their having this problem. Now, occasionally, I get stepped on, my toe might be bruised, or I might get a tendon torn in my foot. Over the many years that I’ve been a dancer (ballroom and tango), I’ve had several injuries. I’ve not fussed about it; neither have I asked for help. I went to the doctor and dealt with the consequences. Sometimes, I’ve had to have procedures that required me to stay in the house for days at a time and I didn’t ask people to come over. Perhaps I was to stoic. Others don’t know that I’d like to have company and that I really don’t want to be alone so much. That said, I don’t like to bother people since I feel that others have their own stuff that they have to deal with. I’m not dying so I can carry on. I suppose if I really had to have a ride somewhere after a procedure, I’d try to get help, but I don’t ask – or haven’t as of yet.
So now I find out that after over dancing for a few months – having a good time – I finally got an MRI and it turns out that I have little tears in both hips. In addition, there is tendonitis down the back of both legs. Wow, I really did it to myself. I had pain and just told the doctor to give me the shots and she did. Now I have to pay the price. I stopped dancing except for once a week. I miss it and don’t have much to do in the house except watch GAIA videos about esoteric things. I enjoy the videos and I’m learning a lot of stuff. I have lots of fun facts to throw out at the table when I am around other people. My friends seldom have time to watch TV so they enjoy my tidbits.
So how can I turn this physical issue into lemonade? What could there possibly be that’s good about it? For one thing, it’s slowing me down. I have time to think about my mom’s passing in a healthy way, not just the busy stuff I had to do during the first few months after she died. I miss her a lot but was just vegetating in the house – then went crazy dancing. I realize the error of my ways now – one needs to do little exercises to keep all the muscles going and not just the big ones – like with Zumba and weight training. Exercise like Barre, Pilates and Yoga work the little muscles and tendons and keeping the body flexible to reduce the likelihood of injury. I know now I have to add these types of exercises into my routine.
I also realize that I have to have friendships beyond the social circle of just dance friends whom I know three things about and can ask how you are while dancing. I need social friends to just hang out with other than dancing. I have to widen my world.
In addition, I have to find another goal in life. For the last three years of my Mom’s life I cared for her and she was always in my thoughts – what I had to do for her or someone was calling me telling me that she fell, etc. Now there is a big hole that I have to fill with a new direction. I have many years left and need to be productive – not in a working sense, just as a human being. I want to help others, be of service in some way so I need to find my next volunteer situation.
So how does one make lemonade out of lemons? Start from the beginning, figure out what the lesson is and go from there. The answers always come.
In my Monday Jewish Ladies Bible study, someone mentioned a book that they had been reading called, “The Hasidic Tales of the Holocaust”. It’s not what you’d call a good book to read; it’s more like a must book to read. Why do I say this, having just finished it? The story of the Holocaust wiping out six million mostly Jews in Europe but also handicapped and other unfortunates who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time in a crazy time, needs to be remembered. The author of this particular book has captured many of the individual accounts of people that either lived through the ordeal of the Holocaust, or recounts the stories of those who didn’t make it. All the stories are of faith, of the horrors of war, of hatred of a people who just happened to be Jewish and thus of massive antisemitism and in the end, of how far people can go believing that it’s ok to do harm to others of another belief system than they hold. I’m writing this article as a reminder to not forget so that it doesn’t happen again.
During the late 1930’s, in Eastern Europe, people lost their jobs because they were Jewish; thus, their livelihood was gone. Regardless of their initial financial status, this situation caused hardship on most. Those that saw what was coming, got on a boat to other places. In some cases, the other places weren’t much safer. Those that were lucky enough to get on a boat to Israel or to the US and were allowed into this country, since there were limited VISAS given to Jews, were able to make a new life. Eventually, Jews were rounded up and put into Ghettos. Then they were deported to concentration camps or worse, taken out in the fields and shot.
When the Germans decided that using bullets wasn’t efficient, they started using gas chambers to take care of THE JEWISH PROBLEM.
This book tells of many who lived through the atrocities of the Holocaust, of man doing harm to man in the most horrific ways, including starvation, rape, intimidation, experimentation on their physical bodies, while working them from dawn to dusk. Many didn’t make it and died. Those that were able to hold onto their beliefs, some “merit” from doing a good deed somewhere else, from a blessing they had received from a Rabbi in their home town before being sent off in cattle cars to the concentration camps, seemed to live on day by day.
I was amazed by each story. At first, reading the survivor accounts made me very sad; then I realized that each story of someone who made it through all the adversity was a symbol of what is possible. It made me realize that nothing that I’m dealing with could ever equal what these people dealt with, thus I need to stand tall and keep moving.
If you want to know the specifics of these stories, please get the book and read them, since the stories are too sad, horrible, and in some cases, earth shattering for me to repeat; one must read the actual account to get the full effect. The author has done a good job of putting each tale together so that the reader can feel what it was like during this awful time in history.
I know that my family came over from Eastern Europe in the early part of the 20th century – perhaps 20 years before the events that shook Europe happened. Had it not been for their desire for a better life, they would have died. Those of the family that didn’t leave when my grandfather and his sisters and brothers left didn’t make it through the war. This is why I have very little family left. Now that my parents are gone and that entire family is gone, there is just me and a few cousins left. The Holocaust wiped out my distant family. My mother was born in 1927, just 10 years before things fell apart in her ancestral land. It was lucky for her and for me that her father came to America.
We need to keep ideas flowing and not restrict them; we need to allow people who think differently and who practice religions different than ours to do so in peace. If we don’t remember what happened “OVER THERE”, it could HAPPEN HERE”. Remembering is the way to not repeat the mistakes of the past.
The definition of the word resilience is the ability to be flexible in all kinds of situations; in other words, to be able to weather the various storms of life. My Mom, at 95 years of age, is a wonderful example of resilience. She is a real example to me of how to just allow the world to be whatever it’s going to be and life within it. Why I feel this way is the subject of this article.
My Mom was born in 1927, just a couple years before the Great Depression. Therefore, her parents had to live through the Great Depression. She grew up during a time when what had been for sure, wasn’t any longer. This country had known prosperity for quite a while and then suddenly it all came crashing down. We’ve learned since then to be more careful with investing in the stock market (or many of us have learned this lesson, but not all!). In any case, these were uncertain times that required those that lived through it to be flexible.
In addition, my mom was born just a decade after the Pandemic of 1918 – otherwise known as the Spanish Flu. Millions of people died leaving only the strongest to survive. With no vaccine and only cotton masks, people self-isolated and did their best to wash their hands with little more that they could do. Only those with a relatively strong immune system lived through this time. My Mom’s parents (my grandparents). did and they gave this immunity to my mother.
A third point is that my grandparents were either newly arrived in this country or the first generation here. They were immigrants making their way in a new place, willing to do hard work to survive. My mother’s father was a merchant, making his living from ownership of various businesses that he created – a gas station and then a furniture store. Both were successful enough to support the family at that time.
Thus, my mom had good genes as they say and she gave those genes to me. As time goes on and I get older I reflect on just how much my mom has passed her resilience on to me. I watch how she adapts to changes in her life with relative ease. When my brothers and I graduated from high school and moved on, she started working as a substitute teacher using the degree, she obtained many years before. Eventually, she earned first her teaching certificate and then her masters from an exceptionally fine university – that of John Hopkins in Baltimore. I still get the newsletter and magazine from them as I now receive all my mom’s mail since I’m her guardian at this late stage in her life. I know how difficult it is to workday time and then attend classes in the evening since I earned my graduate degree while working (from the University of Maryland in Technology Management).
It was not easy for me and I am sure it wasn’t easy for her either; but I never heard her speak of it. She just did it in her classic style. That is the way people who were brought up during the depression are; I have no way of knowing for sure, but it just seems that way to me. Those were challenging times and people had to adapt or not make it through. When I was cleaning out her apartment to move her from California to Virginia, her graduation certificate was there. I had never seen it. My mom had just gotten it and then put it away. When I think of all the visits to my home in Baltimore and never once did she say, “I just graduated from Johns Hopkins University with my masters in liberal arts; do you want to see my graduate certificate?” I can assure you that I would have been immensely proud and would have wanted others to know about it. Wait a second, now that I think back, when I did graduate with my graduate certificate I was married, and we were moving from one house to another, and I don’t think I made any kind of special thing about it. At the time, I just completed my coursework and did not even bother with the ceremony. The more I think about it, the more I realize that, I’m very much like my mother.
How else is my mom resilient? Last October, Mom fell in her apartment and the staff called me to come over as she was badly bruised. I went over and took her to the nearby ER. After being in the ER for several hours, the doctors decided to admit Mom to the hospital where she stayed for four days. During this time, I spent the entire day with her watching the nurses and doctors coming in/out of her room with lots of electronic documents for me to sign. Of course, I had no idea what I was signing away. Does anyone these days? The staff points to a line and tells you to sign and you do it. I tried to read what I was signing but the language isn’t really understandable by a normal human being even with all my degrees. Of course, it’s meant to be that way. If you understood what you were signing, you would not do it. Undoubtedly, you are giving away your rights to any compensation if the staff screws up. In any case, after four days of every test known to man except the ones that make sense – like an EKG, Mom said, “I want to go home”. So, I told one of the nurses, “ok, you have one hour to get my mom ready as I’m taking her home”. And they did. At that point, Mom said, “Do not put me in the hospital”. My reply was, “So don’t fall and don’t get sick”.
Months passed and my mother was going downhill. She was not coherent and seemed to sleep a lot. I was preparing for her demise. So, I decided to talk to her soul and I said, “It’s a lot of trouble for me to take care of you, so either be here or leave”. She looked at me and said, “You’re right”. After that she came out of wherever she had been and started getting better day by day. Her soul decided to stay for awhile longer. During this time, I got her a care worker first 3 days a week and then 4 days a week, not so much because she needed that much care, but more to keep her company. Yes, it is an expensive adult play mate, but it did the trick. I visit during the week also, but she really likes having someone around. And on Saturday, I have a guy come over for therapeutic exercise and massage. She likes Robert and thinks he is cute (no, she’s not dead yet). So, whatever he costs, it’s worth it.
We are fortunate to have the means for this type of care. I’m certainly glad that I’ve saved for the eventuality that I’ll need extensive care towards the end of my life. Meanwhile, I exercise as much as I can to stay strong and healthy.
On a final note, Mom continues to surprise me. I called the other evening to check on her with no answer. After three tries I called the staff getting worried asking the night duty person to check on her. When I called back, he told me that my mother had gone to the movie down the hall. Go MOM!
The world is literally in chaos and I can’t deal with everything at the same time. People are upset about the world stage – there is war in the Ukraine where both Christians and Jews are being killed just because they live there. Many charities are asking for money to help these people and I for one have donated. Hopefully, there is some kind of peaceful settlement of this situation on the horizon. At least we can pray for one. I was dancing with a Ukrainian Jewish guy at a tango dance the other night who told me about the importance of prayer. He informed me of several prior situations that looked quite bleak during which prayer diverted even worse calamity. Could it possibly happen again? Could prayer help those in the Ukraine?
Last week, one of the Jewish organizations that I subscribe to, known as Chabad, held a zoom program with their counterpart in the Ukraine. It was noon in Washington, DC where I live but evening time there. Just outside, the Rabbi was afraid of the shooting and possible bombing expected anytime nearby. During the program, he stated that he might have to suddenly leave. It was like watching a warzone live. I guess it was really. I felt so bad for the people there as he told us how they were protecting the Jewish families as best he could; helping others to reach the border to safety, and still others to just stay alive within the synagogue as a place of refuge. But there is no real refuge from bombs.
I for one was truly impressed at the Rabbi’s words of hope at a positive outcome. He was not a native Ukrainian, but a US-trained clergy that just refused to leave those that become his religious family behind. He was staying! By the end of the zoom program, I was teary-eyed and awed at his bravery in the face of danger as well as his determination. Later, when the program was discussed we all agreed that we had hoped to give them inspiration but it was reverse that happened. We were very much inspired.
Why is this happening? What is our responsibility for all this chaos? The answer can be found on many levels – on the physical plane there is the US Government and its politicians that allowed Russia to overstep its power too many times when it tested us over the years. Now we have a weaker military along with a weaker national security both in terms of national intelligence and in terms of actually being able to fight in a real war. Now we are dependent on oil because the pipeline was shut down. Have you seen the price of oil lately which translates to high prices at the pump? As a result of Russian oil being so expensive and now being embargoed, the price of not just gas, but all things transported are going sky high. Every person domestically and I must guess worldwide is being affected by this war. It’s becoming a global crisis on many levels.
Then there is the responsibility at the soul level. Why would this happen? What are we to learn from it? Well for one thing it shows how groups of people will go to the aid of others; even to put themselves at risk. There are stories of US citizens leaving the safety of their homes to go fight in the war in the Ukraine. There are other stories of families being lost over there with many relatives here. Or still more stories of families here taking on the burden of fostering a Ukrainian family just to help them get settled here. Is God showing us the power of what we can do when pushed a bit?
I really hope that our prayers get answered and peace finds a way to prevail. Just pray for peace and for the highest good of all concerned. As always, comments are welcome.
My brother died in September and I wrote the following article after he had been gone for a week. My family had been acting weird not communicating with me in any kind of normal way. I’m not going to describe what weird actually means since every family has their own dynamic.
Soon after, I went out dancing to one of the few places that allows such activity, albeit with masks and lots of hand sanitizer in between partners. As I entered, the first person I saw told me that the love of their life had died several months before of a brain tumor. The next person I met at this same dance told me that their partner had died three weeks before. As I was leaving the dance which was only an hour in length, another person said to “stay safe”- and that they could survive anything after what they’d been through with their family just a few months prior. He went on to explain how his brother was found after four days quite unrecognizable, having been living off soda and liquor [sugar and sugar]. After hearing this story I inquired if foul play had been suspected. I received a very surprising reply, apparently the children reported to the police that he and his brother had had a strained relationship which resulted in this guy being taken in for questioning.
At this point I realized that it’s not just me. There is a lot of death and transformation going around. I’m starting to study astrology and am finding meaning in the alignment of the planets. Perhaps all this strange behavior is the result of Pluto hitting into Mars or Saturn? I left the dance and went out into the night to gaze up at the night sky and saw the full moon. Several of my relationships of late of various types have gone bad. Change is all around me.
Does it help to know this? Yes it helps to put things into perspective. We have both challenges and happy times along our life journey; some high times and some low. Right now, I’m experiencing more lows than highs, but I will get through it with grace, humility, and appreciation as I move along the divine path set before me. There is a reason for everything. Comments are always welcome.
I came home today and my fur baby Skylar wasn’t at the front door sunning himself like he usually does. You see, he crossed over Rainbow Bridge today. Skylar had enough and didn’t even want me to hold on to him this morning. I knew when I awoke that today was the day that I had to help me… cross over that is. How does one make the decision to end a life that one has tried to prolong for so many years? The decision haunts me. Should he have just a few more days? Was there even one more thing that I could do to help him?
Skylar
I got out of bed and went downstairs hoping that there would be less food in his bowl showing me that he had eaten during the night, but it was not to be. In fact, there were only two small urine balls in his box indicating that he hadn’t even been drinking water. Normally, I had to scoop his box a lot in the morning due to the many times he’d used it during the night. This morning, it was different. I knew he’d not eaten and not drunk water. He was done.
With a resolve that can only come from an inner knowing, I called his veterinary’s office and through tears made a 12:30 pm appointment to put him down. Then I tried to give him some of the meds I had in his little box I kept for such things; I tried a pain pill but it only made him wince. I kept hoping that I’d find something that would encourage him to eat and I’d be able to call the Vet back and say that I was mistaken and he was alright. But it was not to be. It was going to be the end.
I took a walk and asked guidance for confirmation and the same answer came back, “you’ve done all you can. It’s time to let go”. When it was time to put Skylar in his carrier, he was already in there. He had used it for comfort. I had come to leave it on the level by the front door so that he could feel secure. It was kind of cute how he’d sun himself on the pad with the carrier open and then go inside when he’d had enough of the sun. It was a condo with multiple options. Lately, he’d spent a lot of time inside this carrier. It was where he felt safe. His hearing was gone yet he could feel when someone would come into the house as the door opened. Sometimes, as I opened the door, he wouldn’t want to move. I had to laugh as he had his little personality. Yet, too he was always happy to see me when I came home. Now I was ending the life of my little boy that I had come to love and who had become as much a companion to me as I had to him.
And so we left for his last ride in the car. We arrived at the Vet and had 30 minutes together before Dr. Chau came into the room. Again, I asked if there was anything else we could do, to which she reconfirmed what she’d told me the week before; he was in end stage renal failure and had given up eating. He most likely had stomach bleeding, had thickening of the spine, could hardly walk, had bronchitis, as well as the pancreatitis that plagued him his entire life. All around me as well as my own inner guidance had confirmed that it was time yet I still was crying so hard at the thought of ending his life. Yet, I had to. I knew it.
Then the needles came as well as the dreaded end. Once I saw the life leave Skylar’s little body, I realized that I had been in denial. He probably had been trying to tell me that he wanted to leave for a while. He’d been on appetite stimulate for several years, yet I persisted in keeping him alive. He’d been slowly losing weight over the last couple of years.
The pandemic was a bit of a blessing in that I hadn’t traveled in these last six months giving Skylar and I more time together. For several months, I only went out of the house for one hour per day and was available to him when he needed or wanted me. Sometimes he’d come upstairs to my study and just sit near me as I worked. I’d turn around and he’d be there, sitting so quietly. Sometimes I‘d find him in my study when I returned from being downstairs; the little guy knew that at some point he would meet me there. In this sense, he was very patient. I can remember times when I’d be searching the house for him to make sure he hadn’t gotten closed inside a closet or in the garage accidentally only to find that he’d been waiting for me in my study all along. Other times, he would realize that I was on the sofa in my family room watching tv and he’d join me there. When he was awake, which weren’t many hours of the day, he liked to be near me. That is, until the end.
The week before he died, he looked at me like, “help me”, so I took him in to the Vet to find out all the issues that were going on. Whereas he had been holding steady with his renal failure (at Stage 2), he’d risen to Stage 4. Where his weight had held steady at 10 pounds, then down to 8 pounds, he’d fallen down to 7.1 pounds. So in the last 9 months, there had been a huge decline. The 6 months of the pandemic had been his worst period, yet it was the time when I hadn’t traveled and had more time for him. The universe has a way of organizing things for the best.
The last few months I’d been busier with on-line classes and walking outside giving me a more positive attitude, yet I was getting very tired of all the care I had to provide. I was getting caretaker’s burnout. I missed some of his medications. He would come to me and cry – it was time for his fluids. He knew it. He could feel it and so reminded me. It wasn’t that I wanted him to die; I was experiencing adrenal exhaustion and weight gain due to the stress of an almost dying cat, an aging Mom and a brother with cancer. I had done my best, yet I’m second guessing myself now – was there one more pill that I could have given him that would have made a difference. Once I come back into my body I realize that, no, it isn’t possible to play God. The end is the end and all living things have one.
After Skylar expired, the nurse wrapped him in a towel like a mummy but made sure to leave his little head clear. What difference did it make as he was already dead? In my grief, I was thinking that he’d be afraid as he didn’t see well in the dark. One doesn’t think straight at such moments, yet I’m obviously not the only one since this Vet tech knew to do it this way. He was laid in his beloved carrier that had become his safety net, put in my car and then taken to a crematorium nearby. Driving home with the carrier empty, crying the whole way, was very difficult.
Once home, I began the task of cleaning up the house. It isn’t that it was necessary right at that point in time; it was more a way to busy myself to not think so much. Looking at his bowls, his litter boxes and all his toys on the floor were too painful. Cleaning it all up took time and gave me a chance to zone out. Then I went to bed early sure that I could hear him walking around the house.
The next days and weeks will be mourning his loss and remembering all the cute things he did when he was feeling better. I began to realize that when one sees a loved one on a daily basis, the declining health they experience isn’t always seen by the caretaker. I hadn’t realized how much Skylar had declined. I had been in denial.
How will I remember Skylar? When my other cats died back in 2011-2012, I hadn’t planned to get another cat. I felt a pull to look online at rescue cats and found Skylar. He was a big guy at 12.6 pounds and had been told that he was an over eater. I ignored the naysayers and adopted him anyway stating that he just needed to be loved. And love him I did. Within six months, by following me around my three-level townhouse, he was a more normal 10.5 pounds. I feel that he’d been mis-treated when young since he had trouble trusting me for the first year or so. Eventually, he came to sit with me on the sofa and our love affair began.
Skylar had a very sweet nature and loved anyone who would pet him. He was crazy about his pet sitters, which helped me a lot as I travelled several times per year. Once he fell ill with renal failure and pancreatitis about three years after he came to live with me, (now five years ago), my caretaking began. I went to heroic measures to compound medications for him as the standard dose overwhelmed his sensitive body. His Vet was always amazed at what I was doing. I have been recording videos over the last year of just what I did for him and plan to put together a You Tube Channel to help other pet owners in Skylar’s memory. I had gotten five years out of a cat that was only supposed to live for two after falling ill.
For now, this is what I have to say about Skylar’s passing. Over the next few days, I will pick up his ashes, write and carry out a fitting funeral for a wonderful guy. He was my little fur baby. I miss him so much and feel his energy around the house. Am I crazy to hear, “Mommy, don’t cry. I’m ok. I can play with other cats here. “I hope he’s at Rainbow Bridge and maybe, just maybe he’d found my other cats and now enjoying activities that he was never able to do here. He was never able to play outside.
“Skylar, Mommy loves you. I hope you’re ok. I hope you’re no longer in pain; that you can run and play and have fun”.
P.S. If you have a cat with Chronic Renal Failure and Pancreatitis, stay tuned for the Skylar Channel on You Tube which I will be creating in the near future.
Every quality, like most things in life, has a good aspect and if extended into extremes, a negative one. Even something like being a nurturing person which is normally considered to be a desirable quality, can be negative if done to excess leaving the nurturer over-extended. It is always important to consider the balance point for everything in life, even our personal qualities. Today, I’d like to address some examples of qualities and the full spectrum of how they can be represented as in balance or out of balance.
As a great man once said, let’s look at the man in the mirror first, so I’ll start with myself. I was born an Aires, with natural qualities of leadership and organization. During my working career, I used my natural tendency to lead and organize to great success for my professional duties; however, when I transferred those same skills to personal relationships it didn’t go so well. As I was to learn, people don’t like to be managed, overly organized and led outside of the work place. Apparently, it feels too much like “mothering” from someone who is not their “mother”. Certainly, it didn’t go well in my dating life for obviously reasons. My awakening moment was during a dance lesson when my instructor told me, “Joanne, you have to let the guy lead!” I was to learn to not only let go to allow someone else lead me, but to do so with complete trust with my eyes closed. I suppose my love of dancing was a way of balancing this natural quality of leadership for me. I also know now that one is left brain while the other is right brain; again, one balancing out the other.
The above example can be applied to many other qualities. How many women, and perhaps some men, over nurture? At home with children, this is a good quality, certainly when the kids are young. That said, as they grow us, even children want more autonomy. If one doesn’t learn to allow space for mistakes so that the kids learn to fend for themselves, then they will be in trouble when they get into the real world on their own. In the worst case scenario, we see grown men and women, totally dependent on a parent (whether mother or father) because they never separated out; they never developed their own identity because of over-nurturing by the parent. It’s very important for kids to have a chance to make mistakes and not be scolded (too much) so that they don’t develop fear of being wrong; otherwise, when they get into the workplace they turn into adults who have to be perfect. Since there is no such thing as perfection, the pursuit of same causes extreme stress and uncertainty. Thus overly nurturing mothers, who are well-intentioned, can raise kids who become neurotic adults. Again, every quality has a full spectrum from the positive to the negative.
Another example is a guy friend who is a good analyst. He was born with an ability to pay attention and hyper focus (perhaps a bit ADHD) on the details of life. In his work life, he’s learned to apply this ability as a detail-oriented person to an analyst position, one for which he is accurately suited. In addition, he has moved on to a managerial job wherein the details are also extremely important. However, when it comes to managing people, he tries to use this same skill of being in the details and it doesn’t always go so well. He tends to reflect back to people what he believes they want him to say rather than intuitively (right brain) ascertains what is needed to mentor them into productivity. When I’ve heard him discuss the issues he has with certain individuals at his workplace, I can only imagine that these are the people that don’t want to be managed; or perhaps even manipulated as it might feel. Perhaps they would prefer for him to just ask how he can be of service to them or inquiry as to the source of their issue. In other words, he should treat his subordinates as adults rather than as children to be managed. I have tried to explain this to him but he gets locked up in his left brain and has difficultly moving into the right brain to grasp the concept. Although he is perfect for this position from the standpoint of attention to details to manage his day, the routine it requires and the constant checking to make sure that everyone has completed their tasks, I feel that he is lacking in real people skills. If it were me in there, I would empower my people to feel a part of the organization, give them a sense of pride in their work and not micro-manage them. It’s been proven that when one treats people like children (micro-managing ) them, that’s how they behave (not performing unless told to do so).
Unfortunately, this same guy tries to handle his personal life in the same way – with an extreme hyper focus to the details and an unwavering plan that doesn’t adjust for changes as they are required. I watched it happen last week and was horrified at how each challenge messed him up. Things that I accept as normal bumps in the road were major hurdles for him – like traffic, rain and a tire getting a nail. My approach was to deal with the traffic, make adjustments in the plan for the day based on the rain and stop to get the tired plugged so as not to ruin the entire day. But that’s not what happened. As each challenged appeared, he repeated it over and over – this horrible traffic; OMG it’s raining. Now there are two things so he repeated the two things until there were three things and he repeated them. Until he had himself convinced that the day was ruined so we had to return home.
I’m so used to putting out fires and keep going that none of it would have stopped me. It’s all a matter of perspective. Life is life and we have to stay in balance in order to be resilient. Otherwise, everything and anything will throw us off and life will become horrible. Why do that to yourself? Comments are always welcome.
During the current Covid-19 pandemic everyone is rather on edge and often little things become blown out of proportion. In this environment, perspectives on what’s important sometimes get off as well. Here’s my story of what happened with a next door neighbor over a small planting bed in the front area between our two townhouses. To me, it’s an example of how one’s mind focuses on the absurd when it doesn’t have anything else more constructive to capture the attention.
Late one Saturday night a few weeks ago, my next door neighbor, also a single older woman sent me an email asking me to trim my bush. Her request seemed really out of left field as it was spring time and my bush had been in the ground for 23 years without it bothering any of my prior neighbors having also resided in the same house next door. Why suddenly did she worry about this bush? In her email, again late at night, she stated that she was concerned that my bush would harm her plants newly placed in the “flower bed” between our two homes.
As a point of reference, I’ve always maintained this area 75% because I’ve lived there longest and have paid for whatever was necessary. A couple years ago, suddenly the tree died and as it was deemed “my tree” by the neighborhood I was required to pay for the removal and replanting of another tree which set me back $1000. Her predecessor neighbor disavowed any responsibility for the tree stating that the trunk of the tree was technically on my side of the planting area thus my problem. This was her view even though the tree was clearly providing beauty and shade for the two homes. I graciously accepted the responsibility and when the bed had to be redone I didn’t tell the gardener to stop at my half, I had the entire bed redone without expense to the neighbor. I felt like I was doing the right thing.
My late night response to this neighbor’s bush trimming request was that I’d take care of it in the fall. Receiving my email only made her more determined to stand up for what she wanted and I got more emails demanding action. I was really having a hard time taking her seriously. We were in the middle of the pandemic, I was going out once a week for food and for a daily walk, and really didn’t want to think about trimming a bush. To me, it seemed so ridiculous.
The emails began to fly back and forth with me stating that I’d take care of it and her stating that she’d take matters into her own hands. Really? It was a bush and 6 inches away from her plants. What could happen to them? At one point I even told her that she needed a new hobby, and pointed out for example that I was learning to make masks to donate to the Million Mask Challenge. Well, this only made her angrier and she assumed I was saying that she wasn’t doing anything to help with the pandemic. In response, she told me that her daughter was a nurse in NYC on the front lines of things. Great, what are you doing? But this is really not the point. I didn’t want any trouble. I was minding my own business and she was making an issue about a bush that grew an inch in a year or two suddenly creeping up on her plants.
As far as this new neighbor of about 1.5 years was concerned, learning about how the tree was planted held no interest for her. She proceeded to send me nasty emails about how awful I was and how I didn’t greet her properly when she moved in. I’m not sure what she expected, but in my neighborhood people move in and out without much fuss. I never did anything to hurt her and was cooperative when she had work done on her roof and her contractor needed access from my roof to do his work.
About two weeks after the email barrage, I asked a friend to come over with a chain saw and trimmer to take care of the bush, obviously sooner than the “fall” that I had promised her. When we went outside to begin the work, I bent down and realized that she’d already taken pruners and cut some of the branches out of the bush. I couldn’t believe it!!! Talk about obsessing over a bush. My friend and I took a huge amount off the bush figuring that we’d do a really good job. But our efforts were not rewarded. Within hours I got another email from the same neighbor asking to meet me in the morning regarding my plants close to the street. My response was a negative. I held my boundaries and ended communication not responding. She needed to find something else to obsess about because I realized it was her mind that was the problem; nothing I did would ever satisfy her.
Inspirational memoir capturing a love that extends beyond the veil of death, of care-giving, of the ravages of Alzheimer's Disease as well as a widow's restructuring her life after the only man she ever loved was gone. Buy safely via PayPal
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Joanne's StarTeacher Blog 