July 16, 2008

Breathe In, Breathe Out

Thank you all for your kind words, about my father, and throughout these crazy crazy tough weeks and months. 
Today I feel battered, but optimistic.

I am still processing the loss of my father - his memorial service will be next week, and I'll have a chance to spend some more time with my family then. 

Today I finally got the very very last of our belongings out of the old apartment, and cleaned it from top to bottom.  I also transported L's entire collection of albums to our house sit apartment, because for some reason the movers didn't move them.  Albums are very heavy.  But no matter - goodbye old apartment.  Goodbye mice and water bugs.  I can't say that we'll miss you.  I am hopeful that my little family will get through everything and soon end up in our lovely farmhouse upstate, surrounded by trees and grass and a stream full of crawfish.  We plan to be officially moved in by August 1.

I am hopeful that L's newly installed Wound-Vac ("the best invention since apple pie - in terms of wounds" according to the doctor) will heal his leg in just a couple of weeks and he will be up and running again.  Or at least walking.  The doctors are very positive about everything.

Things are okay.  Things are okay. 

July 13, 2008

C. Bruce Parker, 1940 - 2008

My father died yesterday. 

We were driving upstate after the movers when my sister called to tell me that he was gone.  I just kept thinking how much he would have loved the new house, the beautiful natural surroundings, the history of the area.  I wish I could have shown it to him.

I'm having a hard time with the fact that I was the only one among my siblings not there with him when it happened.  I also feel terrible that he never met Wen Wen due to everything going on in our lives since her adoption.  I'm not sure how I'm going to reconcile those things.  But I am so glad I went up to see him when I did, that I had a chance to say goodbye.

Goodbye, Dad.  Rest in peace.

July 12, 2008

Birds

On my long train ride upstate along the Hudson River, I kept seeing birds out the window - cormorants, egrets, hawks, even an eagle  perched in a tree.  My father has always loved the natural world, and birds and wildlife, and I wanted to tell him about the birds.  But I forgot, overwhelmed and numbed  by the situation, to tell him and I'm not sure he's really in a condition to hear about birds.  No, although he was somewhat responsive yesterday, today was a different story.  His disease is moving very, very  quickly.  I did tell him that I love him, and that I've been thinking of all that he ever did for me over the years, and I thanked him for that.  But he wasn't able to respond today.  It's really brutal to see him like this - and so so so unfair that this is happening. 

I began to think about the birds as parts of his spirit, flying from him a little at a time, some heading south along the Hudson toward New York, toward Ulster County, where movers are taking our belongings tomorrow, to Clinton, where we grew up.  Some heading up north to the wilds of Canada, some heading overseas, some even migrating to the UK where my sister lives.  I would like to imagine that his spirit, his life force, his tenacity, his heart, will always soar with the birds. 

July 09, 2008

Random

My mind is all over the fucking place right now. 

Tomorrow I am going to take a train seven hours to see my dad in the hospital.  (That's nothing, my sister is flying in from London.)  He is not doing so well, my poor dad.

I'm staying for a day and then coming back in time to do the move upstate on Saturday. 

I've been working hard to get the final bits and pieces of packing done.

Trying to arrange childcare so L doesn't have to overexert himself. 

He sees the doctor tomorrow morning himself. 

I am really really weary.

Bad news about my Dad. 

He's been very ill these past weeks and in the hospital trying to manage his pain and see what can be done for him.  Yesterday, his doctors told him that they really can't do anything more to treat his cancer, and called in the hospice and palliative care team. 

I think we'd all been holding out hope that he would have another battle to fight, that they would prescribe yet another chemo or stem cell treatment for him.  He's been such a fighter throughout this whole long ordeal, and he's bounced back so many times.  I think we all hoped he'd be able to do it indefinitely.

But there's only so much the body can take.  I think about all that my dad has been through in the last months, all the brutal chemo treatments he had, and it just breaks my heart.  And I feel terrible that I haven't been able to see him for so long, that with one thing and another we have not been able to spend time up there.   

We're making plans to go as soon as we possibly can.  Keep my dad and his wife in your thoughts.  Give us all the strength and the peace to go forward now. 


July 08, 2008

On and on

House We are settling into our new house sit here in Park Slope after making the move over this weekend.  We will be here through most of July.  We're still waiting to see when L's radiation will resume, and whether or not we'll do it down here (and find another house sit - ack) or upstate.  There are compelling arguments for both, but we are definitely leaning toward the latter.  We are all ready to be settled. 

The girls are adjusting amazingly well to all the changes - better, I think, than L and I.  The baby has had like six different "homes" since leaving China, poor girl!  And yet, she is thriving - incredibly, wonderfully - and her attachment is growing stronger every day.  Not only to me now, but to L as well.   Did I ever write about the hug she gave him in the hospital?  I don't think I did. 

I took her to visit him in the hospital after a week of not seeing him.  Mind you, their attachment to each other was only just really beginning to take off in the weeks just prior to this latest hospitalization.  We were all worried that not seeing him would cause a setback.  While he was gone, I'd call and have him talk to her on the phone - she'd listen intently and sometimes sign "Daddy" and run off down the hall with the phone.  But when I brought her to visit him - oh, man, her face lit up and she was SO happy to see him.  Then, she went up to him and he picked her up and she just melted into his arms, giving him the most amazing hug.  She just nestled in, her head on his shoulder, her arms around him, for about ten minutes.  It was as though she finally (finally!) claimed him. 

They are in the other room now - he's giving her the morning bottle.  This would have been  completely impossible just a few weeks ago.  Sigh.  It makes me very, very happy to see them together.   And I find the process of attachment just fascinating - and miraculous, actually. 

So, yeah, she's doing great, that funny baby.  Her sister is a lot moodier - she understands more of what's going on and is feeling understandably anxious about it.  But still, Ping is doing well, all things considered.   She's been going to camp and maintaining connections with some of her core group of buddies for the year.  I think the actual move upstate is what's worrying her the most - leaving Brooklyn, leaving her friends. 

Ping has been really into the movie My Neighbor Totoro - not surprising since it involves two sisters whose mother is in the hospital and who have just moved to a new house in the country.  It's really the first full-length movie that Ping has been really interested in from start to finish.  (Unlike Kung Fu Panda, which I tried to take her to this past week.  She lasted all of about five minutes into the film before bursting into tears and asking to leave.  Too scary.)  I think it hits so close to home that she is comforted by it - her parents are too, actually.  We've told her to look for Totoros when we move upstate - that they very well may be living in the woods behind our house.  She likes that idea.

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Speaking of the move, the movers are coming this Saturday to move our stuff upstate.  I'm relieved that we are hiring movers - very much so.  And I think we will all feel better knowing that all of our things are up there just waiting for us to move and settle into our own space.  Look out, dust bunnies, we're on our way.

Dustbunnies

July 05, 2008

Water

Dscn1917 Dscn1894Playing in the water - more photos at The Kid Show.

July 04, 2008

Not fair

It's not fair. 

So says my five year old, continually these days. To her, walking several blocks in the sun is not fair.   Not being able to go to the 9th Street Playground is not fair.  Her baby sister getting into her things is not fair.  Not having ice cream three times a day is not fairIt's not fair is on the tip of her tongue, and she's ready to use the phrase at any given moment for almost any situation.

It's not fair.

I've tried to talk to Ping about overusing that phrase.  Save it for something that really matters, I tell her. 

Something that really matters. 

I find myself thinking It's not fair about a million times a day too.  There is nothing fair about our lives right now.  The fact that my father is suffering terribly in the hospital with a rare cancer at the age of 68 is not fair.   The fact that my husband also got a rare cancer at the age of 39 is so totally achingly not fucking fair.  That just as he was recovering from surgery,  just as things started to feel more normal and manageable and even happy, he had an infection that made him very sick and sent him back to the hospital for more surgery and fresh family trauma and a whole new recovery time?  Not fair.  The fact that all of this is happening at the same time, just after bringing home a new baby and on the verge of moving is not only not fair but completely unbelievable.   

We are coping with everything as best we can, but like my daughter, I'm having a really hard time at the moment getting beyond It's not fair

July 02, 2008

July 2

I have a longer post I want to write, but for now . . . Today is my dad's 68th birthday.  He's in the hospital undergoing a battery of tests to determine what's going on with him.  I wish we could be there to see him.  He still hasn't met Wen Wen. 

Happy birthday, Dad.  I wish it were a happier one.  But we are all thinking of you and cheering you on every step of the way.

Egret

July 01, 2008

Happy

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