Wazhat! Wahzat!


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On death

my father in law died.

4 weeks ago I went to his room to give him coffee

and he was dead.

I had never seen some one in that state.

Going cold yet still a tinge of warmth remaining.

Oh …. death is so final.

It was so unexpected to me, I was unprepared

i felt as if I was hit by a canon ball to the chest.

I was, I am so shocked by the tumble of emotions that invaded by brain mostly those of regret and remorse.

I don’t remember what I said to him the night before he passed I just remember being so annoyed with him because of his fan.

And it makes me so sad.

I really thought that there was more time.

But time was up

and now even though I don’t show it it feels as if my heart is crying.

A cloud of grey seems to have encased my entire being. I am filled with gloom.

I think the most surprising thing of all to me is how much his not being here has impacted me.

I honestly didn’t expect it to hurt so much.

and I never realized how much of my brain space and daily routine he took up.

I keep making meals for him or shopping for him in mind.

I almost feel like if I am losing my mind.

 

All those things that people say to people in an attempt to console the living such as- They are in a better place; It was his time; He had a full life so it is good. While can be comforting a little Really really doesn’t make it any better or easier for you the living. It does help the person saying it though ( I have learned)

Every single person grieves differently, reacts to death differently and manages it differently.

Yes it sounds like I said the same thing 3 different ways but it is different.

I have woken up every day since and thought ‘Yup, he is still dead.’ and I feel tears.

Instead of the grief and pain numbing or going away it feels for me that it is growing like a snowball would if it is rolling down a hill. Slow, slow and then very fast getting bigger and bigger.

 

I got solace from this:

grief

Death is just so final.

 

 

 

 

 


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Ouch

My dog.

My fifth child (as I call him sometimes) bit me.

Yes me! on my hand.

I have counted about 15 puncture wounds and one large gash.

A gash that required some sutures to hold the skin together.

It was such a painful experience.

I felt like a big baby as I cried freely, blubbering as the nurse washed off the wound.

As I sat there helplessly applying pressure to and elevating my hand going through my head was Stupid dog ! Why did i get bite? Wow that happened so fast! A perfectly normal Father’s Day Sunday just totally destroyed. Thank God it wasn’t one of the children!

Of course I know why I was bitten. The poor dog got his foot laced through the wrought iron grill and he was yelping in pain and thought I was going to hurt him more so he bit and bit me hard! Sigh

It was a really surreal experience.

Not having my right hand to use has been really frustrating and kinda humbling. I need help with everything from eating to bathing. Putting on clothes has been interesting, lots of strapless dresses.

i really wondered what lesson i was to learn from this experience and then I realized that for an entire week no one looked at me for anything.

I lay in bed with my hand propped up all day (I couldn’t even wiggle the other fingers for awhile) and it was okay. There was no guilt on my part because I honestly couldn’t help anyone because along with the pain the painkillers knocked me out which was a good thing because the stress of the dog bite experience cause me to wheeze which always always drains me.  And there was no guilt from the children as they were so traumatized by the whole thing they wanted me to stay in bed and get better. The white bandage was a reminder that they rather not see. LOL

But from the experience I learned that the house would not fall apart if I took a break. And I think my husband learned that I do do alot because he had to take up the slack.

I also learned that my eldest daughter can make a really good cup of tea. And she sure can comb her sisters hair well.

It seems strange to think that just maybe God decided that I needed to stay at home in my bed for a week.

Keeping a positive outlook

and happy to report that 9 days later I can type and write a little. I still cant over do but it looks like my hand would heal and be back to normal with just a scar to remind me.

 

 

 

 


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Where I come from

I made the strangest observation about my self recently.

Well okay not so strange but it was interesting to me when I pondered on it.

I was thinking about what my life would be like if I was in the Elizabethan era. I was envisioning a life of a scullery maid or such because I am black, but then it hit me I would not have existed in the Elizabethan era whether as a scullery maid or royalty simply because I am so ridiculously mixed. In Trinidad talk you would call me a callallo. ( Callallo is a thick green soup made out of dasheen leaves, okra, sometimes pumpkin, peppers, pigtail and coconut milk. It is thoroughly blended and looks abit mish and mash)

Swizzled2callalloo

My ancestry looks like this:

Father side:

Indian: My Great  grandfather came over with his father from Madras, India (apparently they are very dark in that region) to Trinidad on a boat with indentured servants but they are adamant that they were not servants but Catholic missionaries. Ok! I believe he got married to an East Indian already in Trinidad

Arawak/Carib/ Spanish: My Greatgrandmother was Carib /Arawak mix (Amerindian) and my grandfather was Spanish brown I believe.

Mother side:

Scottish/ Venezuela: My Great Grandfather was from Scotland he lived in Venezuela and he got married to a dark Senorita (she must have had African in her lineage maybe)

Chinese/ African : My Great Grandmother was Chinese and My Great Grandfather was of African descent, not sure if they were married.

I am very much of the world LOL

So yeah there would be no me in the Elizabethan period.

Just me thinking aloud.

 


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I am not God

I had the weirdest thought just awhile ago….

What if  because of my choice so many years ago I have caused all that has currently gone haywire in my life and my family’s.

Could it be that if I had chosen a different path that we would have all benefited from it all.

It freaked me out.

Have been talking myself down ever since.

I have had to remind myself that I am not GOd

That particular line I have had to  keep on repeat in my head as I find myself wanting to find the way to fix things that don’t necessarily have anything to do with me but would make me feel better about me if I could indeed fix it!!

Sigh

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I have never been a big fan of the Old Testament and it was because of how women were perceived and mistreated in the writings. I also never liked what I thought was Noah’s total over reaction to being found in a drunken stupor by his son. Genesis 9 v: 20-27.

It was years later that my own father very simply explained that particular passage. He says it was about the youngest son making fun of and showing off Noah’s indiscretion and not being respectful enough to keep and fix the father’s nakedness by himself.

hmmmm

My thoughts have run on that passage often these last few months as I watched my father and father in law slowly become overcome with this aging process.

My daily interaction with my father- in-law especially have made me pray often for patience and grace. Because at times it is hard to remember that he is an adult and not the child that he is acting like. And like Noah’s son I find it hard not to talk about his little mishaps as some of them are indeed very funny and would make a good story. Most days I hold my tongue.

it is strange seeing these once strong men who as a child they were our pillar of strength who now are looking for you to take care of everything.

Some days I feel angry and it is baffling to me as to why but I have slowly come to realise that the anger is masking the frustration and fear.

Frustration because he is an adults and we shouldn’t have to remind him to bathe, eat and take their pills. He should be able to do that himself. But he can’t.

Fear … fear because the days are numbered and I’m afraid of the day when I will not have to take care of  him my father in law because he will be gone. Fear also that I am making a mess of it all.

Sigh this growing old thing is hard …. for the person getting old and the ones who are watching the age take over.

 

(wow this was long and winded and a kinds jumbled but just felt to ramble even if parts are not really coherent.)

 

 

 


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time didn’t stop

lights didn’t go off

lightening didn’t strike

the earth didn’t stop spinning

it is true that life goes on

because everything is as it was except

My Granny is gone.

 

Well as I predicted she lived to see her 94th birthday today and before the day was done she was gone.

She was my inspiration, I loved her dearly and I will miss her.

Rest In Peace Granny Lucille Leacock.

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A game of waiting.

Today on a whim I picked up the phone and called my grandmother.

Not knowing if she would know who was on the other line or if she would care to talk on the phone.

It was a short call

I said to her I love you Grannie

and between laboured breaths my grandmother- my grannie said to me:

I love you the most!

My heart broke.

It is hard knowing that the time is almost near.

It is even harder when you realise that we are in essence waiting for her to pass.

I am so selfish though that I want her to live forever. But her organs are failing and seeing that she is going to be 94 in 2 weeks they (the doctors) are not able to do anything other than wait.

So even though I keep insisting that she will wait until after her birthday if she is indeed going, each time a phone rings or my phone ping I fret that it is some one saying those words that I am not nor will ever be ready to hear.

Sigh

I am glad I called because I got to hear her say she loved me.

 

 

 

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