Getting Old Sucks

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aging, believe, community, compassion, courage, dementia, Diana Schwenk, Diana's Enormous Book of Quotes, family, Fear, getting old, grief, growing up, happy, health, laughter, life, loss, parents, Purpose, Relationships, Stuff my parents used to say and do

You Ain’t Nothing But A Groundhog?

Margot Schwenk, November 2017

“What is the name of that singer I really liked?” mom asked me, sitting across the booth from me at her ‘second home’ at Vieux Chateau in Hawkesbury, ON. “You know, the guy who sang, ‘You ain’t nothing but a groundhog?’“

How interesting that mom would ask that question, with the mistaken groundhog instead of the actual hound-dog from the song she so loved by Elvis Presley, since my brother and I had recently discussed how life with mom is sort of like the movie Groundhog Day.

Two years ago, mine and Mike’s dad, and mom’s husband of 56 years passed away. Mom hasn’t been the same since. How can someone go on when their husband, whom they have spent more than half their life with, is suddenly gone.

It hasn’t been easy for mom, or for us kids who are witnesses to the profound sadness that saturates mom’s reality. And just recently mom has also had to give up driving and leave the home that she and dad built together to move into a retirement home.

Getting old sucks!

We try to tell ourselves otherwise to make ourselves feel better, but it’s a shit show of giving up independence and autonomy. Sure, one can still find joy in moments and be grateful for what remains, but as in the case of mom, that takes a great deal of re-focusing and determination.

You see, mom isn’t who she once was. She has become very forgetful and displays signs of dementia, and she knows it. Imagine if half your brain was breaking down, and the other half was fully aware of it. It can’t be easy for her. And she is different. She’s not the mom we knew. But the new Margot is beautiful. She’s compassionate. She is concerned about the future of, and misses, her family immensely.

During my one-week visit, I watched mom reach out to others who are struggling, doling out hugs, taking the arm of a woman who has pain when she walks. Mom is fierce in her efforts to help and protect others, because she knows firsthand what it means to feel helpless. She is beautifully compassionate when she hugs and cries with those who are hurting. And although she doesn’t feel it, she is brave, emotionally connected and a light in the darkness.

It’s not been easy for us, her kids, because we are heartbroken with the cards that life has dealt mom. We feel guilty because we can’t spend as much time as we would like with her. And yet, we are so proud of her and so in awe of her ability to FEEL the moment and experience it in the moment.

I don’t mind so much when she cries, because that is RAW honesty, and it passes. She feels it. Accepts it. And moves on. I guess the hardest part is when she panics, when she feels that she screwed up in someway, when the chaotic thoughts in her head send her into a tailspin. Thankfully, these episodes seem to be less, now that she gets her medication dispensed by a nurse at the correct times.

Don’t misread me. It’s not all gloom and doom. Mom’s only been in her new home for a month. She needs time to mourn what’s she’s lost, and grow accustomed to her new surroundings. We do have high hopes of a meaningful quality of life experience for her moving forward. We look forward to a possible trip with the whole family to Germany, mom’s homeland, and we look forward to a June wedding between my daughter and her fiancé.

But I don’t think we are fully off the hook. Individually, and as a society, we need to take a long, hard look at how we treat the elderly. How do we make sure that there is still “life” in their lives? How do we create an environment where joy can exist? How do we move away from ‘doing everything’ for them to ‘helping them find their new purpose?’ How do we move away from the warehousing of elderly people, to an integrated model of all society that includes children and all ages? And how do we keep the conversation going until we find it?

Getting old sucks, but it doesn’t have to…

Check out the amazing results that happened after this cool 6 week experiment.

~ DIANA’S ENORMOUS BOOK OF QUOTES ~

Mom lives at Place Mont Roc now; a wonderful place, run by wonderful people, helping wonderful people. Their kindness is amazing and it’s a great foundation on which to build what we can further do to respect and keep the dignity of our seniors; our moms and dads.

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The Storm Creates Space for Love and Compassionate Action

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aging, compassion, courage, Diana Schwenk, Diana's Enormous Book of Quotes, family, Fear, growing up, hope, kindness, life, living in the moment, love, parents, Relationships, Stuff my parents used to say and do

Mike, Dad and Mom

Life isn’t always fair,

Mom and Dad

Something I heard said, while growing up in my hometown of Chateauguay many times. And it isn’t fair, it certainly doesn’t seem to be at times.

We plan, we work and we dream about the life we are building, and things don’t always work out the way we hoped. Sometimes it’s better, sometimes it crashes down on us like the destructive force of a storm. Yet, sometimes when the storm has passed, we look back and are able to say, “if not for the storm, I wouldn’t have learned (fill in the blank).”

I’m learning that in the storm, in spite of its force, in spite of my fears, I have to be brave. I have to trust that things will settle down, and I have to believe things may even be better than they were before.

The storm wakes us up. It shakes our foundations, and causes us to pay attention. It reveals what is important. It reprioritizes our priorities. And it creates a huge space for love and compassionate action.

Mom is teaching me this. My brother is showing me this, through this frightening time of transitioning Mom to a retirement home.

A new stage in life. A profound sense of not knowing and loss of autonomy.  A shaking up of a life hard-worked for, painstakingly planned for, and callously turned upside down.

Yet love is there. Courage to believe is there. Hope that it may even be better than it currently is in this storm, is there.

~ DIANA’S ENORMOUS BOOK OF QUOTES ~

Mom and Mike, I am so proud of you. You may feel fear and helplessness, but I see your courage, love and hope; and I know that Dad does too. I love you!

7 Things Dad would want you to know

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This post has been sitting in my draft folder since December 2015, just a short month after Dad passed. It hasn’t felt right to publish it until now. ♡

*******

Dear Mom,

I’ve been thinking about you and Dad and our family.

In particular, I’ve been thinking about how Dad and I could just sit in the same room, not saying anything, yet somehow be on the same page. And I’ve been thinking about some of the conversations Dad and I have had over the years and I think there are at least seven things that Dad would want you to know.

I’ve listed them below in the form of a letter to you from Dad.

Meine Liebe Salat Schnecke,

1.       Don’t ever doubt how much I loved you

Remember our Wedding night? It wasn’t a fancy party. We did the best we could though and we had fun right? I can still see you running through the street singing in the middle of the night when you’d had a little too much to drink.

What the neighbours must have thought!

But I didn’t care, you seemed happy and honestly Margot, I may not have been able to express myself well, but that’s what I wanted for you. I always wanted you to be happy.

I knew how hard your life had been, I wanted to show you how good it could be.

Remember when we arrived in Canada and once we got on our feet a bit? You have no idea how happy it made me to see you eat butter, eat at a restaurant, eat fruit and cakes and whatever you could get your hands on. Remember that time I brought a dozen lemon donuts home when you were pregnant and you ate 11 of them? I didn’t mind that there was only one donut left for me.

It made me smile to watch you eat all the foods you missed in your childhood.

2.       Building our family

I know you were scared and so determined that our children would never be harmed like you had been. I was shocked that time you would even think I might hurt them but I grew to understand where this fear came from. I loved our kids – I would have done anything for them, and I think I was able to convince you of that with time, right?

No regrets Margot.  Don’t ever underestimate the value of what we were able to give our kids. Sure we weren’t perfect parents, we made mistakes along the way, but we did everything to the best of our ability for them and I think they turned out pretty good, don’t you?

3.       Our 50^th anniversary

Mom and Dad’s 50th Anniversary

Wasn’t that a fun party, Margot? I was so excited to celebrate with you. You looked so beautiful in that blue dress, I was so proud beside you in my new suit. And look how many friends came to celebrate with us!

And our trip to Germany! Yes Canada was our home now, but how wonderful it was to go to the place where we met and married to celebrate our 50^th.

4.       You were a real handful sometimes

A fighter. A hard worker. You had fire in your eyes!

Yeah there were times I wished you would just calm down, relax a little. Just let go of stuff, but maybe it was your pushing that got us as far as we got. And even when you were angry, I knew it was because you were afraid that things wouldn’t work out – those ghosts from the past were haunting you. I knew that you were fighting for the very best.

And you know what? I think I may have originally been drawn to that about you. You have spunk!

I mean who else would have moved to a new country, not knowing the language to start a new life with me? I chose well. You were the right partner for me.

You worked just as hard as me. Remember our job at that summer camp? Picking apples?  Making hats? And all the other jobs we had until I got that job at Kraft Foods and we bought our first home? And even then you cleaned houses to help out with the expenses. Yes we worked hard for what we built.

5.       Regrets

Maybe I could have been more supportive at times. Like when you were seasick on our voyage to Canada or when you broke your ankle. Maybe I could have told you more how much I appreciated you. I just never was one for words. But make no mistake; I was grateful and I really cared about you, even if I wasn’t very good at saying it.

6.       The last few years

I know how hard it was for you to watch me on the couch in pain. It was hard for me too. I wanted to be healed. And sometimes you made me angry when you pushed so hard for me to get up or exercise. But when I would think about it, I knew you were scared. I knew you meant well.

But the hardest thing, Margot was to see what my poor health was doing to you. You were so brave. That’s why I tried so hard to be brave too. That’s why I tried not to complain even when I couldn’t drive the car anymore. You did everything. I really wish I could have helped around the house more. I was so sure I would get better and things would go back to normal. But I didn’t. I’m so sorry things didn’t work out the way we had hoped. If I had known that I wouldn’t get better, perhaps we could have made arrangements that would have made the last years easier for both of us.

7.       Now that I’m gone

Our last few years together were hard, and I am so thankful for all you did for me. I know you’re sad and that you must grieve – after all we spent 56 years together, one doesn’t get over that quickly. But don’t just remember the last years. Remember the fun times. The family vacations. The German Club New Year’s dances. When I taught you how to drive. Those nights we walked around the block when the kids were in bed.

And don’t grieve too long. There is so much more for you to experience. Spend time with our kids, our grandkids, our wonderful friends. Get back out there doing the stuff you love to do. Simplify your life. Laugh, live and love. Life is far too precious to do otherwise. Grab onto life with both hands and enjoy it as much as you can. And know that when your time comes, I’ll be here, waiting for you.

Dein Mann, Heinz

Brummelbär

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Dad, daughters, Diana Schwenk, family, fathers-day, kindness, Life's like that, love, memories, parents, Relationships, Stuff my parents used to say and do

“Dad had such a deep voice,” I said to my mom on the phone a few weeks back.

“Yes, that’s why I called him my Brummelbär (Brummel bear), his voice rumbled from deep within,” she replied with tenderness in her voice.

I guess I’ve been thinking a lot about dad lately, with Father’s Day and his birthday looming closer. I used to dread June because it brought Father’s Day, my brother’s birthday and my dad’s birthday, and when I didn’t have a lot of money, it seemed taxing to buy three cards and gifts in one month.

Man, what I wouldn’t give to have that worry back, to have dad back.

Yet, I can’t really complain. I was blessed for 52 years with the best possible man for me, as my father. He was a good man, a kind man, a peaceful man. And he loved us.

As best as I can tell Brummel means rumble. And mom’s right. His voice rumbled from deep within like a bear. And it remains in my heart, in my DNA it would seem, guiding me, and still brings me comfort when I most need it.

So glad I captured his voice in this video!

The Strength You Gave Me

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200 words, Diana Schwenk, Diana's Enormous Book of Quotes, family, growing up, lessons, life, Life's like that, living in the moment, Margot Schwenk, mistakes, Mom, Mother's Day, parents, Relationships, strength, strong, Stuff my parents used to say and do

Margot with Diana

The more a daughter knows the details of her mother’s life […] the stronger the daughter.

― Anita Diamant, The Red Tent

On Mother’s Day I think of you. Of all the things you gave me. All the things you taught me. All the ways you sacrificed so I could have a good childhood.

And I did mom. So much better than the life you had as a child. I know you sometimes recount all the mistakes you think you made with us. But don’t you know that you gave so much more than you could ever have dreamt for yourself when you were a child? Don’t you know that you broke the cycle of alcoholism and abuse allowing your children to never have to know that torment?

And your strength, even now. Even in this time when you face the harsh reality you never dreamed would happen alone, instead of the plans you had with dad for your golden years, even now I see that strength. That strength you taught me in deed and in word. The strength that I have inside me because of you.

Thanks for that Mom.

Happy Mother’s Day.

~ DIANA’S ENORMOUS BOOK OF QUOTES ~

The Slippers

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children, Dad, Diana Schwenk, family, grief, growing up, Hump Day Chronicles, life, Life's like that, loss, love, memories, parents, Relationships, Stuff my parents used to say and do

 

I have an old, ugly pair of slippers from Wal-Mart.  They make a click-clack noise. The same kind of click-clack noise Dad’s favourite slippers used to make when he walked across the kitchen floor.

*******

Winter 2012

Michaela and I went back east to spend Christmas with family. Dad was wearing those slippers and click-clacking across the floor. The noise drove Mom crazy. The next time Dad reached for those slippers after a trip into Hawkesbury, they were gone.

In the garbage.

Mom had had enough.

So me and Michaela went to the Fairview Shopping Centre in Pointe Claire and found a pair of slippers for Dad at Old Navy. We’d intentionally picked silent slippers to avoid that click-clacking sound. We couldn’t wait to give them to Dad for Christmas. On Christmas Eve we handed the wrapped slippers to him. He opened the package and angrily tossed the slippers to the side. 

“I hate them.”

They weren’t his well-worn favourite slippers and they weren’t the kind you could just slip on either. You had to bend down and stick your finger in the back to get them on.

*******

How I wish you were still with us Dad, so we could get you the perfect slippers.

The kind you wouldn’t have to struggle to get on.

The kind you could just slip your feet into.

The kind that would click-clack across the kitchen floor and drive Mom crazy and cause that smile of defiant satisfaction to tug at the corners of your mouth…

~ HUMP DAY CHRONICLES ~

The Ring With The Blue Stone

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children, Dad, death, Diana Schwenk, family, foundation, gift, good character, grief, growing up, History, Hump Day Chronicles, lessons, life, Life's like that, love, memories, Mom, parenting, safe, Stuff my parents used to say and do, values

My parents in 1960 and the ring with the blue stone

When you want to build something, you start with a good foundation. When you want to understand something, you start with the fundamental pillars of the subject. In other words, you learn the history, the mechanics of it, the whys and whats and wheres.

In the same way,  when you feel lost, it helps to go back to where you began so you can remember where you came from, what you have learned about this business of living, what you truly long for in life, and how you can get it and how you can share your gifts with the world. Sometimes you grab onto a symbol of the past and carry it with you like a talisman that you can look at, or touch when you need to be grounded.

Since Dad passed away, I’ve been in kind of a fog. I got the basics covered, you know…  I wake up, brush my teeth, shower, dress, exercise, go to work, eat, go to bed and start it all over again the next day. 

But I’ve lost a bit of my oomph.

A bit of my zest for life.

Dad was always my rock.

He had this way of making me feel secure and letting me know that he was there for me, no matter what.

My Plan B, if Plan A should fail.

Although I rarely resorted to Plan B, I knew I could if I had to, I knew it was there if I needed it.  

This past New Year’s Eve, as I was deciding which piece of jewelry to wear for an event I was attending, I came across the ring with the blue stone. The ring that cost forty dollars in 1960 and took Dad several weeks of saving so he could buy it for Mom to celebrate their first anniversary.

Dad was so upset when Mom gave me that ring almost thirty years later. But I’m so glad she did, so I could find it on the last day of 2016 and slip it on my finger. And with the wearing of it, remember the values he taught me and the traits he exemplified; like a good work ethic, empathy, diplomacy, loyalty and strength of character.  

What a gift!

What a great foundation from which to find my way again!

~ HUMP DAY CHRONICLES ~

Those Blue Shorts Dad Used to Wear

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British Columbia, Canada, Dad, Diana Schwenk, dreams, family, growing up, Hump Day Chronicles, Life's like that, love, memories, Mom, parents, Pinantan Lake, Relationships, Stuff my parents used to say and do

The other day in the early hours of the morning I was sleeping and in my dream Dad was waking me up. I opened my eyes and he was wearing those blue shorts he used to wear and an undershirt. It was a younger version of Dad and he was handing me a gift…

I woke up thinking, I got to remember this dream and the gift. Later in the day I’d forgotten the gift. I should have written it down when I woke up.

“Those blue shorts. Man I saw him clear as day in that dream,”  I thought to myself. And then yesterday after work,  I remembered I had a picture of him, wearing those shorts and an undershirt!

Mom was always good at taking pictures. I still joke that if I go to the bathroom, I have to lock the door to prevent Mom from coming in to take a picture. But back in 1985, Mom and Dad came to visit me in Pinantan Lake. They’d flown to Calgary, rented a car and drove through the Rocky Mountains to see me.

Mom with Dad wearing those blue shorts and undershirt

Dad, me and Mom at Paul Lake

Me, Shannon and Dad

Mom and Dad on the last day of their visit to Pinantan Lake

It occurs to me as I write  this post, that Dad was two years younger than I am today back then and in my dream it’s sort of like two peers connected for a moment in time. And maybe that’s all the gift I really need to remember. I miss you so much Dad, thanks for visiting in my dreams.

~ HUMP DAY CHRONICLES ~

Have you ever looked at picture of your parents at the age you are now and wondered what it would have been like to hang out with them as peers?

My First Father’s Day Without You

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daughters, Diana Schwenk, Diana's Enormous Book of Quotes, dreams, family, fathers-day, growing up, Heinz Schwenk, joy, laughter, life, living in the moment, loss, love, memories, parents, Relationships, Stuff my parents used to say and do

I’m thirsty Dad.

Nice to meet you Thursday. I’m Friday, come over Saturday and we’ll have a Sunday.

Heinz Schwenk

Today is my first Father’s Day without you. The beginning of many firsts without you. Yes, I’m a bit sad about that Dad, but I don’t want to talk about that today. Because I am the luckiest woman in the world.

I am incredibly grateful for having had you in my life. You always made me feel so important and cherished. From day one I knew you were in my corner; even when I was wrong.

You’ve only been gone seven months. Gone yet not really gone. I still see you everywhere. I catch a glimpse of you in the mirror. You grace me with your presence in my dreams. And Dad, the other day an older gentleman who had your walk and your playful facial expression stopped in his tracks and looked at me. It made me smile. I know how blessed I was to have you as my father.

You’re in a better place now, free from pain.

I know you’re ok Dad.

And I want you to know I’m ok too, thanks to you.

~ HUMP DAY CHRONICLES ~

Possess A Second Soul

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200 words, Diana Schwenk, Diana's Enormous Book of Quotes, English, family, Foreign language, French, German, growing up, multilingual, parents, Relationships, Stuff my parents used to say and do

To have another language is to possess a second soul.

Charlemagne

One of the things that I am most grateful for is that my parents taught my brother and I German.

We’re first generation Canadian. My parents immigrated to Canada in 1960. Three years later I was born and sixteen months after that my brother was born.

Mom and Dad spoke only German at home. We didn’t learn English until we went to school. I had a German accent up until about Grade Four. Mom recently apologized for only speaking German when we were little, but I’m so grateful to know the language.

As luck would have it, we lived in the Montreal area in Quebec, so Mike and I were also exposed to French. Before I came out west I could pretty much speak and understand French. I’ve since lost most of it, but when I visit Montreal, within days I understand what French-speaking people are saying. Mike is still perfectly fluent.

There is something really special about knowing more than one language. It opens up more of the world.

It does kind of feel like possessing another soul.

~ DIANA’S ENORMOUS BOOK OF QUOTES ~

Do you know a second language?