Monday, January 29, 2024
In bed at 9, awake and up at 4:47. Let Lilly out but she came in without relieving herself. 28°, high of 39°, cloudy morning, sunny afternoon, wind is W at 7 mph, 6-13/24. Sunrise at 7:10, sunset at 4:59, 9+48.
Treadmill; pain. Normal waking pains. I wondered whether to lift my heavy robe off its hook using my aching right wrist or my aching left shoulder. 30:21 & 0.60 at 8 p.m., while watching the first half of another Chris Hedges speech to a Palestinian audience in New Jersey, title: The Death of Israel, referring to the death of Israel as a liberal secular society, especially after 1967 and the occupation of Gaza, the West Bank, and East Jerusalem.
I'm grateful to my wonderful sister, for the lifetime we shared until her death almost two years ago. Last night, while half-watching a movie on Netflix, I cleared out what seemed like hundreds of text messages on my iPhone from Republicans seeking money from "Ken. I. When I got down to June 2021, I came upon an exchange of texts between me and her. How I loved that woman; how I loved her even when she was a little girl, the youngest of we 5 cousins. I have my Kitty candle lighted as I write this and think of her. In June 2021 she was in home hospice care and struggling. By August, her daughter Chrissy thought she was dying, she was so depressed and bedridden. That's when I flew out to Phoenix to be with her. My visit perked her up and she held onto life until March 3, 2022. I didn't go out to be with her then; I didn't think I could handle the trip - the drive to O'Hare, the airports, the wheelchairs, boarding areas, getting on and off the plane, the long drive from Sky Harbor to Surprise, being there. The August/September visit just about wiped me out though I'm certainly glad I made that last visit. She died on March 3rd but I kept texting her every morning until March 21st, trying to hang on to our every morning, early morning conversations that meant so much to both of us. Toward the end of her life, she couldn't reply to my daily messages, but Chrissi told me she still read them. I feel tears welling in my eyes thinking of her, thinking of those last days. I took the terrible photo of her on the sofa on August 27, 2021, during my last visit. Kitty was too tired and weak to sit up. The Lumex device framing her was her walker. What a loss.
My last text messages to her:
March 1: Good Morning, Sweetie -
It’s been more than 2 months since I have heard from you and I know from Kelly and from Chrissi that you are weakening, so I feel almost silly and stupid still writing to you each morning about the trivialities of my life. But your last communication to me was that you do expect and relish - is that too strong a word - my morning messages, so I continue to write to you, to my one and only, my “favorite” sister. So I report that I am having a bit of a hard time emotionally dealing with this war in Europe. It conjures up thoughts of Vietnam in me, of all the bombs we dropped on the people of Vietnam, of the “hooches” our guys set on fire, on the ‘forced relocations,’ on the “free fire zones” and all the murderous activities we - we Americans - engaged in during those years, and the knowledge that I was complicit in it - naively, stupidly, but nonetheless complicit. For years I have worked my “dog tags” around my neck, the same dog tags I wore in Vietnam. I’ve never known why I wear them, but I think I started wearing them - again - when George W. Bush and Dick Cheney and Don Rumsfeld delivered their “Shock and Awe” show to the people of Iraq, the men and women and children of Iraq, like Putin is delivering, or about to deliver, his Shock and Awe show to the men, women, and children of Ukraine. I feel so stupid, so naive, so complicit and guilty. But even in my persistent feelings of sorrow I think frequently of you, my beloved Sister to whom I am spiritually and emotionally connected, my one and only, my dear, dear “favorite Sister.”❤️🙏❤️
March 2: Good Morning, Sweetie - (copy of a Pickles cartoon) Greetings from your favorite brother and from Earl and Opal Pickles, our mutual favorite cartoon characters.
I went to bed early last night, not wanting to hear Biden’s State of the Union speech. I don’t feel any personal hostility to him and actually like most of his governing politics, but I just can’t warm up to the guy personally. There is something about him that just turns me off. I probably need to be psychoanalyzed to find out why I’m so bothered by him. The problem with going to bed early is that I wake up early, 2:30 this morning, actually climbing out of bed at 3, long day ahead.
Geri went down to Milwaukee to visit her old friend Elise ****** yesterday. She is trying to help Elise learn how to knit again, but she tells me it’s pretty much impossible. Too impaired by her Parkinson’s disease. God bless Geri for trying. Matthew 25, “I was sick and you cared for me . . .”
Andy got a new job yesterday, doing legal compliance monitoring for a debt collection agency. I hope it works out for him. They also got the insurance claim proceeds for their stolen minivan, which they will use to get an old Lexus they own in running condition. I should get my Volvo back soon. It’s been 6 weeks without it. Geri and I have managed very well getting along with one car, her Honda.
The war rages on in Ukraine and it seems pretty clear that there is much, much suffering to come to the Ukrainians. Millions of human beings suffering because of the wickedness of one man, Putin. The televangelist Pat Robertson, a lunatic in his own right, says “it’s all in God’s plan.”
March 3: Good Morning, Sweetie -
I spoke with Kelly yesterday. I went to bed early last night, thinking of and praying for you. I got up at 3 o’clock, still thinking of you and praying for you, as I am now. A light is going out in my life and I acknowledge -if only to myself - I am forlorn. Bereft.❤️🙏❤️
I prayed for you last night and again this morning. I’m lighting my Kitty candle, reminding me of our spiritual connection. The Kitty candle in my heart is always burning. ❤️🙏❤️
March 7: Good Morning, Sweetie.
Good Morning, Sweetie,
Well, I’m back again, wanting to start my day sharing a few thoughts with my favorite sister. It just Thursday night that you went home to Mom and Dad and now it is Sunday mornng. Friday was the first mornng in 5 or 6 years that I haven’t started out my day talking with you, in a bit of a brain and heart fog, ditto Saturday, but here I am again.
I continued composing those morning messages until March 21.
Good morning, Sweetie -
Monday, March 21, Spring, at last. Every day I grow more fearful of nuclear war between Russia and the West. Disaster? Catastrophe? Armageddon?🥵🔥😱
I swabbed some of the paint that David and Sharon gave me on the canvases they also gave me for Christmas. Just to hold the brushes, wash the brushes, do something with paint, non-keepers.
Woe . . .
I knew of course that she was gone, but the early morning writing had become habitual with me. On 7/31/22, I started this journal, a sorry substitute for my early morning conversations with my sister.
I see the VA acupuncturist today. I'll tell her about the longest, most debilitating problem, the IC/CPP condition, but also the shoulder and wrist problems and ask what she may be able to do. , , , 10 to 12 pins or needles stuck in me, but no noticeable effect. I actually had more CPP after the procedure, but probably a coincidence. Starting in March, there will be 6 treatments spread over 6 weeks. Am I wasting my time and that of the practitioner?
No comments:
Post a Comment