The....what, sixth? Only? Really? I suck....ok then....The Sixth. Death. Ghosts. Eyes.

I can feel it, it's coming, the urge to write again. Perhaps it's not coming tonight, but soon....

So far it has been a rather lousy year. My father died on March 21 of this year, it was not unexpected, but it was gruesome. He had been in hospital for about 6 weeks, his mind and body getting weaker and weaker. For the final two weeks he was non-verbal. This was a man who's mind would work so quickly, so sharply, for all of the years I can remember, that, as my grandmother once said "try to catch John in a corner....."....he used to say, after he'd interrupted you for the umpteenth time "I have a mind like a steel trap, you know".......

You could NEVER win an argument with him....never. He could prove his point with fewer words than anyone I know (not that he ever used few words, mind you), he could out think most people before they'd even set their minds to the task at hand. He was chauvinistic, sexist, infuriating, misogynistic...all those things, yes, but he WAS brilliant, no one could question that...and to see him reduced to a shell, a..a..a...non-verbal thing....(that thing in there, that's not The Goose, no way....) was horrible.

He caused a lot of emotional trauma to both my sister and I....body image issues, self worth issues, self doubt issues, self worth issues.....but the last important words I spoke to him, half an hour before he died, while he involuntarily and sporadically squeezed my hand, were; "whatever you think you have done wrong....we forgive you...and we love you." Whether he heard me or not, whether he understood or not.....I don't know, I doubt it, but I sincerely hope that he did hear it, on some level, on some plain, in some lifetime or some existence...because I DO forgive him, and I do love him. It will take time to grow up, to realize that the things he instilled in me are not true

But holding a grudge against him as he died....I was incapable of that.

I can get into the more unpleasant aspects of that night, but I'd really rather not...not now, I'm not ready for that. The important thing is that I hope he knows that those words I spoke were true. He did the best he could with the tools he had. His own father....well, my dad did not even attend his funeral, need I say more about that relationship?

We had him cremated, as per his wishes, one day soon I will be able to write a spot on how wonderful the people at the funeral home were....and we had written on his urn:

John F. Lowery
Mind like a steel trap

One day soon I will be able to write about how I feel about this, about the things which have been happening in the house since he died, about how we are recovering, about how sometimes, when I think of him, I still can't fully accept that he is no longer here. That he won't be walking through the door bellowing at the dogs, that I will never hear his voice again, that I will never see the eyes which I inherited looking at me again; in humour, disgust, apathy or fondness ever again.

Hopefully tomorrow, hopefully soon.

In steel trap harmony

IrishRed

The Fifth.....Christmas

So, Christmas and New Year is over for another 12 months. This year was good, it was a little different. We don't have a lot of blood family in this country, there are my parents, my mother's sister and her husband and daughter. My sister is in the States with her husband and the rest of the family is mainly in England with a few in Italy. However, with the extended family we number 13. Not really a positively portentous number for a Christmas table, but until the man of my dreams appears, 13 we shall remain.

We swap hosts each year, one year we host it, the next my Aunt or cousin host it. It's a wonderfully chaotic day of meeting at the hosts' house for a HUGE good ol' fashioned English breakfast, complete with eggs, bacon, sausages, potato pancakes, lamb chops, baked beans, stuffed tomatoes...you get the idea....we eat, we wait for the 'grown up's' to drink their tea and chin wag, we clean up, we FORCE the 'grown up's' to get off their duff's and move to the living room where we finally get to open our presents. A glorious 2 hours of "this one's not mine, it's Susan's" and "what did you get?" and "who needs a present to open?" follows.

Then we all go home, get dressed for dinner and meet up again, usually at the Old Mill, for Christmas dinner.

This year, with my dad's health not being great, my work schedule, and my sister not arriving until late on Christmas Eve, we changed things, the breakfast is too much work now, so we met for Christmas brunch at The Doctor's House, then came back to our house to open prezzies, snacked on cold cuts, quiche, veggies, chips and dip etc. for the remainder of the day.

It ran smoothly. It was nice. Chaotic, of course, but nice.

My dogs LOVED having my cousin's two kids, and her husband's two kids, to rough house with for the day, funny, they were not raised with kids, and yet they both adore them.

New Year's Eve Eve was spent at the emergency room with my father, he was having 'flutters' in his chest, since he has heart problems we went right to the hospital. Spent the night in a waiting room full of puking, barfing, germ ridden people and their offspring.

I have a thing about vomit.

I can not ABIDE vomit.

The very idea of it fills me with dread and panic.

This was not a good place for me to be.

Dad was ok, we got home around 4am....by that point I had been up for 22 hours. Worked 12 of them. I was tired. I was supposed to go to my sisters for New Year's, but by the time I got up I had a raging head ache and was still worried about my dad, so postponed the NYE celebrations until New Years day.

Spent the next 4 days with my sister and brother-in-law watching movies, eating great food, playing Prince of Persia on PS3. It was a good time.

Is that good enough for another blog post?

Too boring? Too wordy without enough being said? Nothing of interest for anyone?

Well, no one reads this anyway, so I guess it's good enough for me :-)

And, hey, at least I did one, right?

'till next time, in harmony

Irish Red