~ out of focus ~

I feel madly out of focus these days and can't get my bearings.  I suppose this is normal when a couple of bombs go off in the middle of your life (a death, a transfer to a new job).

I am developing a garden obsession...

But I can't seem to get my head around this new reality. Things that meant a lot to me before (like decorating) seem suddenly meaningless.  I still adore the idea and the images of beautiful spaces, but the spark has gone out.  I look at the rooms and it's like two heads looking:  one is the old head that loved these rooms and the other head is new and declares everything pointless.  

I think that my senses are so dull that I'm looking for images I've never seen before, or a perspective that is crisp and fresh and new.  I can't even describe it, the decorating drug I seem to need.  When I hear Lauren (beautiful, deeply talented and passionate Lauren at Pure Style Home) talk about planning to decorate her new home and see all her passion and beautiful creativity, it makes me totally excited for a change!  Not when I see a horribly ubiquitous poster (Keep Calm...) in a magazine (maybe I am just anti-establishment all of a sudden?)  Or when I see a Domino photo I missed, it reminds me how fresh it all can be. But most of it just seems like a big pile of steaming sameness.  I know this is a rut and I apologize to anyone I've offended.  This is a spiritual rut masquerading as a decorating one.

Or maybe I have tipped from addict to decor junkie, seeking harder and harder drugs to satisfy my (increasingly) dull mind?

Anyway, besides this decorating numbness, I have developed a strange interest in new things (heaven forbid!).  Yoga, for example.  I know yoga is cliche, and I have explored it several times over the years, but in January I found a wonderful teacher whose style just resonates with me.  After 3 months of practice, I am starting to feel alive in my body again.  There is some type of journey starting, and I find myself feeling like yoga can provide some answers to rather deep-seated questions - I just feel so desperately hungry for something that it appears to satisfy.  But I think maybe it's just that the practice takes me out of my mind (my busy, busy mind) and gives me some much-needed mental rest.  I am doing two sessions a week and want more.  And I am reading yoga blogs.  God help me.

And besides yoga, I can't seem to get enough flowers.  It is like an eternal Valentine's parade in my head. I am obsessively planning my summer garden in my head.  It is still chilly here and about 3-4 weeks from planting time, but I already drive by the garden center wistfully.  It's like I am craving visual stimuli, and some kind of weird organic connection, to make me come alive again.  All day today I pondered whether a bed of herbs or Swiss chard would be better in a certain spot.  I mean...REALLY.  What happened to paint colours and fabric samples?  I still love them, but I am hungry for more. And reading...I have about 5 books on the go.  I am like a creative-consumption machine.  I have been thinking about starting painting (canvasses, not walls).

What's wrong with me?  Maybe it is just Spring...and my body's way of healing itself by connecting with the earth, with deeper meaning, with life itself.

Thoughts?

A Living Room Update

Hello Dear Readers,

I have not been up to posting much lately, with the recent death of my father.  But I wanted to thank each of you all for your generous and kind comments.  They really brightened my days and lifted my spirits and I have read them over and over again.  I thank you deeply.

I am terribly behind on blog reading and haven't felt much like posting.  To be honest, I don't feel interested in much right now, which I think is pretty normal...a death puts things into perspective and makes a lot of life feel suddenly meaningless.  I have simultaneously started a new (and challenging) job and feel wholly overwhelmed.  It is stressful having two big life changes happening at once.  I really think one should be permitted two months off work when a loved one dies.  It is so hard to find normal again...

I've decided that I might take the summer off from blogging, but need to give it more thought as I do love to write and share my thoughts.

In the meantime, today I noticed that I suddenly felt interested in decorating again, so decided I would post a brief about our new coffee table.

It arrived right in the middle of the recent chaos - we had ordered it several weeks ago.  Initially I didn't care for it, but have slowly acquired a real taste for it.  It is light and airy and brings plenty of light into the room with the mirrored shelf (which was the point!):

The table is from McArthur, one of the loveliest furniture stores in Calgary, and was produced by Drexel Heritage.  The style is called Parisian which I liked because it has a certain European old world je ne sais quoi!

I would have preferred a nickel table, as I'm striving for a silver theme, but got fed up searching.  I like that this has an antique look, and the circular motifs are consistent with the curved motif on our existing Queen Anne furniture (not shown).  The top is bevelled glass and there is an antiqued mirrored shelf below.

(I only showed this angle as the rest of the room was full of clutter!)

I bought a forsythia branch a few days ago (on the console table) and love how the yellow brightens the room.  David's grandmother gave me the potted mums, which were happily yellow too!  Yellow is one of the "in" colours of the season...it is not a colour I ever consider but I actually love it here as an accent. I didn't notice the rug has some golden yellow in it until I brought in the forsythia!

Happy week!

R E T U R N

Hello all,

I have returned from the Maritimes where I spent the past 3 weeks with my family.  Sadly, my father passed away on March 20th at 9:55 am.  My mother and I were by his side, along with some other family.  

I arrived home at 6:30pm on Wednesday and he died about 40 hours later on Friday morning.  When I arrived on Wednesday he was awake but not talking and they were giving him morphine.  He knew me when I came in the room and followed me with his eyes.  We sat vigil by his bedside for most of the next 40 hours, my mother and I and the extended family.  It is hard watching someone die.  He never said anything more and just looked around.  His neurological disease prevented him from moving any more but he could still grasp our hands and raise his eyebrows.  On Thursday he smiled at one of his good friends.

He suffered from a cerebellar disorder called olivopontocerebellar atrophy, which destroys the cerebellum.  He was diagnosed in 1993 at the age of 43.  He died 16 years later at the age of 58 (yes, my parents are very young - my mother was 18 when I was born!).

Over the years, he lost his balance first, and went from cane to walker to wheelchair.  He lost fine motor skills and developed slurred and scanning speech.  Later, he developed incontinence and tremors in the arms and then swallowing difficulties.  For the past 18 months he has been in a nursing home since he required full-time care and could no longer walk, bathe himself, or get into and out of bed.  He was unable to move in bed and could not even adjust his pillow.  The disease destroyed the ability to coordinate movement and the most he could do was reach for things and really not feed himself very well.  

In the last few years, he also had frontal lobe issues accompanying the cerebellar disorder, so he suffered from anger and disinhibition at times.  Medications helped control his moods and minimize outbursts.  In the last week of his life, he still knew Mom but would no longer eat. He always ate for Mom, if not the staff, but in the end, he would not even eat for her.  His last full meal was about 10 days before his death, which Mom fed to him.

This was a horrible disease, but he persisted to go-go-go and never gave up.  He was always positive and never languished in self-pity.  But in the last few months, Mom could see that he had lost his will to live.  We were just thankful that he did not lose his ability to swallow sooner as it would have meant years on a feeding tube, as the disease progressed and made him into a frozen body.  Instead, he just stopped eating while he still had some movement.  He stopped talking and in the last week seemed to shut down and begin to die.

Dad was a real character.  We had a very tumultuous life as he was an alcoholic with a bad temper. But he was also a very peaceful, happy person at times.  He was good-natured with many people and would give you the shirt off his back.  He was a very hard worker and devoted to his career and hobbies (salmon fishing mostly, and cheering for the Toronto Maple Leafs).   He was a big supporter of me and always was very proud of me.  I got a strong work ethic from him and also a lot of humility.  Dad was very happy with life and enjoyed living and did not seem to want for much.  He was always happy with their house in the country and all they had and never seemed to want for anything.

In the last few years, as primary caregiver, my mother and he mended a lot of their earlier struggles and became good friends.  My mother talks about the gift of illness, as it gave her an opportunity to have a new, loving relationship with my father that he had made difficult before.

He was a complicated person, and our relationships with him were complicated.  I think it is often the case with an alcoholic parent.  You love them and you hate them, and you see a side of them that others do not see.  I have many fond memories and also many terrible ones.  My heart pains because of the way he died, and because of what could have been, and because of all the goodness he possessed too.  Dad loved to cook Sunday breakfast, fish salmon, work in the yard, watch hockey, and be outside.  He was always tanned by May.  He loved his chainsaw and the simple country life.  He helped Mom make preserves and didn't mind helping around the house.  Despite everything, he had many wonderful qualities and a great sense of humour.  We were very close when I was a child and I followed him everywhere.

I will miss him terribly.  It is still a shock.  It is so strange to watch a death.  One wonders what is really on the other side.  In the last moments of his life, he looked away from us and towards the ceiling and seemed suddenly to become very peaceful.  We asked him what he saw on the other side, we asked him if he saw his mother and father and brothers who had passed.  I believe he did.  I hope he is with them now in heaven.

And I also hope that my mother can heal and enjoy her life now.  She has worked full-time and been sole caregiver for him for 16 years.  In the last two years, she was at the nursing home several times a week and put her own life on hold for far too long.  She was totally devoted to his care and advocacy.  Caregiving is selfless and exhausting.  I am so thankful she was there to give him a dignified life and death, to be his supporter in sickness and in health.  She went far beyond the call of duty and is a wonderful, compassionate, and caring woman.  She is a saint in my book.  I only hope we all have such a blessed companion in our final days.

I think Mom is a bit lost now, and is struggling with her identity, as she is no longer needed full-time to care for another.  I pray she will find peace and take back her life and enjoy what comes to her.  I hope she is surrounded by beauty and peace and love forever.  She has earned it.

I think both she and Dad were given the gift of each other.  I was given the same gift.  Sometimes I am not clear on the reasons, but know that my life has been very rich indeed.