Clean Sweep

Pro basketball playoffs have begun. I'll be honest--I'm not much of a fan. I claim to be a Pacers fan, but only because I live in Indianapolis. Truth be told, since Reggie Miller retired, there hasn't been much to cheer about when it comes to the Pacers. So maybe that makes me a fair weather fan, but to be honest, there is just more in the world on which I want to ponder. 

Back in the almost glory days of the Pacers (when Reggie reigned supreme) there were years in the playoffs when the team did quite well. Never quite well enough to win a championship, but well enough to "sweep" the other team early in the series. This meant that the team would take the minimum number of games required to win the series all at once. (Forgive me if you are a sports fan and think this is like saying the ABC's.) 

These past few weeks have been full of hunting down paperwork, dealing with different banks and investment firms, chatting with the Treasury department, meeting with realtors and trying to make decisions. This past weekend, my sister flew in and my aunt and uncle came down and we packed up and cleaned out my mother's home. Please understand--my mother was a very clean person. She took housekeeping to an art form. Of course, she was not able to do this so much over the past year as the cancer made its deadly progression through her body. But furniture was divvied up, a truck was rented for Aunt Helen and Uncle Max to take things back to Hebron (I now only have two tables in my home instead of three. At the moment I have to china cabinets, but one of those will be leaving by the end of the week) and the trash bin is full. A carload plus went to Goodwill. Once things were out of the house, my sister and aunt attacked the house to make it shine. Both bathrooms were scrubbed, mirrors were shined, cabinets were wiped clean, and floors were done. We all agreed that window cleaning was none of the current company's forte, and this should be hired out. 

My sister and I have agreed upon a realtor and I am meeting with her tomorrow to sign paperwork and officially get the house listed. We hear it is a buyer's market, so we are hoping this house sells quickly. I would like to have all the pieces of her estate decided and settled. I would like to move ahead. I would like to make a clean sweep of getting things done. 

Rarely do clean sweeps happen in pro basketball. Even less do clean sweeps happen in real life and in relationships. I was happy that Aunt Helen decided she wanted the table and china cabinet. I have had no use for them for years, but did not want to get rid of them because they belonged to my grandparents. Aunt Helen made the connection (seemingly obvious) that these were her mother's. Thank heaven she was able to restore them to Hebron. Donna and I had a moment in the house when things felt surreal. I told her that it felt like Mom could come back in at any moment. Donna said that at least we had the house clean for her. Of course, the down side is that Mom would have no clothes as they have all made it to Goodwill. Donna's answer for that was equally appropriate for Mom--"We would just have to go shopping!"

I do not want to sweep the memories of my mother out of my life. I do not want to sweep my long distance relationship with my sister out of my life. I fear selling Mom's house but at the same time cannot wait for it to sell. Maybe the clean sweep is not so much to be desired.

Mid Life Crisis or Second Journey?

To tell you the truth, many of my ideas are not original. I read a lot, picking up pieces of this and that, filing them away, and then they come back out during opportune and inopportune times. I think the title of this post came from a book by Susan Howatch...and she was quoting someone else. Whereever this came from, I'm smack dab in the middle of trying to understand if I am having a "mid life crisis" (or what that even is, for crying out loud!) or at the start of a second journey.

Here is how I understand the good old fashioned "mid-life crisis". Usually a man hits his mid 40's or so, has a little extra money he didn't have as a younger man...and he gets a little itchy to do something he has not done before. At best, the cliche is to buy a little red sports car--most likely a convertible. At worst, the man trades in his first love for a trophy wife. And in between are all kinds of different behaviors--maybe changing physical appearance or taking up a new hobby. I'm not quite certain how this mid-life crisis behavior manifests itself in women. I suppose they can do similar things--after all--red sports car convertibles are FUN!! (Don't you think I would look really good in a red convertible? How many tickets do you think I would incur?)

But the "second journey" seems to be a different animal all together. There seems to be more of a sense of purpose. It's a change in focus. It's a chance to do something that the individual has not yet undertaken. There is less cliche and more risk. And now I find myself at a decision point. Am I having a mid-life crisis or do I have the courage to embark on a second journey?

All my early goals in life have been fulfilled--in one way or another. Sure there have been bumps along the road and things I did not plan. When I was in high school my goal was to go to college. When I got to college my goal was to graduate and get a job. Then the goal was grad school and job. Followed by marriage and having children. From there the plans were a little more murky...I assumed I would make the happily ever after stage eventually. I pictured myself with home, husband and grandchildren. My mom was a great example...and added caretaker to her many job titles. She took care of my dad and then her dad. She moved to Greenfield to help me during my divorce. So after the divorce and some really hands on grandparenting, I found myself in the role of caretaker for my mom. But that job is now done. 

Don't get me wrong. In all my current states and situations, I am truly blessed. I have a nice roof over my head, a job I love with a ton of benefits, a great man to love and explore life with, my dogs and some great great relationships. But there is this little niggling piece of discontent inside me. I now have the ability to make some changes and I want to do so...I think. 

There is talk of moving. There is talk of going back to school. There is talk of travel. And I have initiated all of these conversations. I've been told it is not wise to make any major decisions at this stage in life. Grief can cloud clear decision making. Yet I think I must listen to that niggle deep inside and begin to make some change. Hopefully I will be able to focus better, take a deep breath, and commit to a new plan; a new goal. Don't be surprised to read in this blog that I am doing something different. On the other hand...who knows? There may be a convertible out there somewhere with my name on it. 

The Big Let Down

It's been almost four weeks since Mom left this world. It's been ten days since we officially said goodbye with two memorial services; one here near where I live and one in the hometown. Planning these services was tricky. My sister and I had no idea how many people would come to a service here in the Indianapolis area, and no idea how many people from Hebron would be able to make it. Add to that impossible to predict weather, and we were just up in the air.

The first service was officiated by the hospice chaplain. He was able to share some of her joys and fears she expressed as she neared the end of her life. The service was well attended, with the funeral home staff bringing in more and more chairs. One request Mom had made of me was to sing the Hymn of Promise. During an earlier hospitalization, again on too many drugs and confused, Mom was insisting she was able to see the future. She said everyone told her what a wonderful job I did in singing. No pressure there, right? So when the time came, I took a deep breath and sang. The tears did not come until after I sang. Truthfully, that ranks right up there with one of the most difficult things I have ever done.

After that service, the family went back to Mom's house. My Amity UMC family brought enough food to feed the DeKock army. Not only did my Ohio cousins come, so did their spouses and part of their kids. My daughters had not seen these distant cousins since they had been children playing at the Indiana Dunes. It was the kind of party my mother would have enjoyed.

The service in Hebron was wonderful as well. Again, Mom would have enjoyed it. The Hebron UMC ladies prepared a wonderful lunch. Pastor Kathie offered me the opportunity to sing again, but she read from my earlier blog postings. I've never heard these words read aloud before. It was a humbling experience, to be sure. And the tears flowed. There was no way I could have sung a note.

Having not been in Hebron for awhile, the entire experience has a sense of the surreal. I was able to visit with friends I have not seen in years. I was able to chat with a former teacher--Phyllis Franzman. Mrs. Franzman, or Foo Foo as we called her, taught me how to write in a clear manner. As I put these feelings to paper (or screen) this has been such a great blessing and relief for me.

And then I came home. My sister and her family have returned to their lives. My sister and I are dealing with the estate and bureaucracies inherent in this process. I was craving normalcy, and wanted to jump back into work. My work family has been everything I expected--loving, nurturing and caring. And while I am there or talking with a family, life is normal. When I leave the office or head back to the far Eastside from wherever I might have been, I have the urge to call Mom and tell her when I will be there. I have the urge to call to tell her what has been going on. When I come across something I know would interest her, I sometimes forget I can't just tell her. And then the realization hits me again. I cannot tell Mom about the latest adoption. I cannot tell Mom what I would like to be doing this summer. I am seeing cards for Mother's Day displayed now. I won't be buying her a Mother's Day card. I will have to pay respects another way. Instead of flowers for her patio, I will have to buy flowers for her grave.

I guess the bottom line is simply that I miss her. I miss her smile, bright blue eyes and wit. I miss knowing that she has my back. I fear wasting my inheritance, but I fear I will not be the woman she raised me to be. I miss her encouragement. But I try to keep living normal. I carry a piece of her with me in my heart. I hope she has influenced you as well.