Here is a lose 50 by 50 update... I have lost a total of 8.2 lbs. It's been a little over a month and I had hoped to average about 10 lbs. a month, but I'm not complaining! It's been difficult. Mainly because.....
Is it's so wrong that I like food? I love cooking, baking, creating and eating. I love going out to eat and trying new things and new places. Why do these loves have to reflect on my waistline? Why can't I be one of those people who can have whatever they want and never gain an ounce? Eh, I'm not so instead I have to shhh.... diet
Honestly though, it hasn't been too bad. I kind of get lost sometimes for lunch. I mean really, how many salads can you eat? I like salad and all, I just get bored with them after while.
The truth is, I'm excited about this diet. I feel good about it. I don't feel like I'm putting too much pressure on myself. But I did make one very drastic error that took the wind out of my sails for several days. I was staying at my brother's for a few days while he and my sis in law were out of town, taking care of the dogs and the house. The diet was just fine. But without thinking I stepped on the scale in their bathroom. I fell into an immediate funk because their scale was about 3 lbs heavier than mine, so it showed me at a rather substantial gain while I've been killing myself to eat healthy. I just wanted to cry.
It took several people talking me off the ledge and my own eventual realization that everyone has their own way of cheating, er, dieting. And just because their scale read a certain way didn't make it so. But when I came home I was too afraid to get on the scale so I waited a few days. By then I was down and felt much better about it. Lesson learned. My scale, and my scale only!
I've been a little bad this weekend, it being a holiday weekend and all with cook outs and people visiting and all that stuff. But hey, you have to cheat once in awhile. I firmly believe that if you deprive yourself too much, you will only crave those things more and then you're in real trouble. So I refuse to beat myself up over a little blip. As Scarlett so famously said, "after all, tomorrow is another day!"
I leave today with the biggest words of wisdom I have ever read...
Nessun Dorma, "none shall sleep." It was my dad's favorite, when done by Pavarotti. It's one of the things that will always remind me of him in such a good way. He wept whenever he heard it, and now I do as well. He passed away on January 7. I've been wanting to write about him since it happened, but quite frankly I didn't know where to begin, what to say, how to pay tribute. I'm not sure this will end up being a tribute but I hope you can read the love I had for this man despite some very shaky years.
In those shaky years it was very apparent that my dad and I could not relate to each other. He didn't understand me and I didn't understand him. He had good camaraderie with my brothers and my sister because they all loved sports. Me, not so much. I guess maybe I was a little resentful of that, mainly because my mom used to say things like, "learn to like sports and you will have a bond with him." Well why couldn't he learn to love something that I was into and bond with me? It's that stubbornness that I inherited from him I guess. So growing up I really didn't have much of a relationship with my dad. In fact, it wasn't until after I moved out at 21 that I even really remember having many conversations with him. When I came back home to do laundry or visit or have dinner, we talked. Actual conversations. We found common ground. We both loved nature shows. We both dreamed of going to Alaska. He never did, but I hope I get to someday, for both of us. And when I was 30, I got my very first "I love you" from him.
I guess when someone passes away you aren't supposed to talk about the bad times. When my brother spoke at the funeral, he spoke of family vacations, sports, and Saturday morning breakfasts my dad used to make for all of us kids. And those are good memories. But the truth is there are a lot more bad memories than there are good. I'll leave those for another time though, because the fact is he's gone and I miss him. So instead I'll tell you about his last day.
My dad was ill, and he had been for a long time. He had lost a leg to diabetes seven years ago, and while recuperating from that surgery, he had a stroke. The stroke affected his ability to speak clearly. He knew what he was trying to say, but he often was garbled in his speech and no amount of therapy seemed to help. In addition, his amputation was so far up he had difficulty ever walking again even with a prosthetic. He did, with the help of a walker, but it was difficult and he spent a lot of time in and out of rehab. In addition to all this, he had already had atrial fibrillation, or a-fib, an irregular heartbeat, and received a pacemaker/defibrillator several years ago to treat this. So yeah, he wasn't in good shape.
Since I haven't worked in forever and still can't seem to find a job, I was looked to often to help out with him. I was glad to do it, most of the time. My mother could not handle him on her own all the time. We went to many doctors, many hospitals, over the years. It seemed to be never ending. It was frustrating to say the least, most of the time because as years passed he got less and less interested in doing much to help himself. No amount of talking to him, reasoning with him, telling him how it was, didn't help. And it became apparent that he would have to go into a nursing home. My mom fought us on it, but there was really no other way. He was no longer walking at all and at 82, my mother couldn't care for him herself anymore.
At the time, he was in rehab and they were trying to help him walk. It wasn't going well at all. He had a toe amputated off his remaining foot and since then he didn't want to get up at all. He was in bed, in rehab for 3 months when we got the call saying he was unresponsive. Off we went back to the hospital to meet him in the ER. My mom was beside herself but I have grown accustomed to being solid, the rock, the strong one and I told her that dad has nine lives. And it was true. There had been several times over the years when I thought he was not going to make it. The most recent was Christmas, when he was in the hospital with pneumonia and a staph infection. But he bounced back, just like he always had. I told my mom that when we got to the ER he'd be sitting up in bed and saying, "what took you so long to get here??" And you know, it was almost like that. He was sitting up, he was talking. He was not right, and we could see that, but he was making sense mostly, talking sports with my brother. As the doctors came and went, we were told very little but informed they would be admitting him to ICU. At this time they weren't sure but they thought he may have had a heart attack. Dad was looking tired so mom told him to go to sleep if he wanted to since we didn't know how long it would take to get him into a room. Soon after, he did sleep and we decided to go grab a quick bite to eat, not knowing how long we would be at the hospital.
Things felt different, in retrospect, but at the time, we were feeling it was business as usual. When we got back to the ER, he was still there, still sleeping. And my aunt and uncle (dad's brother) had arrived. The nurse tried to wake him at this point and was unable to. He was still breathing though and the room up in ICU was ready. While they were moving him I went to the ER parking lot and moved my car to the hospital lot. It's winter and cold and I figured it would be a shorter walk when we left the hospital. When I got up to ICU, my family was still in the waiting room but my mom was crying and my aunt was comforting her. What did I miss?? The ICU doctor had come out while the nurses were getting dad settled and he said he saw very little hope for him and there was nothing they could do. Dad had a DNR and all they could do for him was keep him comfortable. Was this really happening? This moment that I had been preparing myself for for years, was it really here? I wasn't prepared at all.
It was about 6 pm, and my brother and I took turns calling my sister and my other brother who live out of state, updating them on what was happening. My sister had called our aunt (dad's sister) to tell her what was going on and then my aunt phoned me and asked me if I thought she should come to the hospital. I told her yes, so she and her husband came.
Now we are waiting. Waiting for him to die and it feels strange. He is unconscious the whole time and unaware of what is happening and that's a blessing. My mom wanted a priest from her church to come and administer Last Rights, so I called and before I could leave a message my sister phoned me. So after talking to her I asked her to call the church back for me and ask a priest to come. She did, and the priest called me not even five minutes later to say he was on his way. He said prayers and anointed him and it was all quite beautiful.
The nurses there were extremely kind and brought us a cart with coffee, sodas, cookies and other snacks. And chairs. ICU rooms don't have chairs for visitors because they don't want visitors to stay in the ICU long. But they brought us, all seven of us, chairs. And we sat, or paced. Cried, and talked. Even had some laughs. For instance, before we got chairs, my uncle broke down crying and sat down on the toilet. It's a toilet in the room, with a big pad over it to make it look like a chair. My mother went to him to comfort him and as she leaned down to hug him, she leaned up against the flusher and WOOSH! She flushed the toilet! Yes, we did all laugh. And it felt good because we were all so wound up and nervous.
Another moment was when the priest left. He was a very young, very handsome priest. And when he left I turned to my mom and I said, "he's young!" She said yes, he was one of the newer priests at her church. I told my family, "we had a name for priests like him when I was in school…. Fr. WhatAWaste!" And we laughed again. You need those moments because staring at my dad and counting how long it is between breaths can drive you mad. So we had those moments, and others as we talked and reminisced and told stories about him. And then, at 10:10 pm, all was silent. He was gone. It took about 6 hours from the time he went to sleep for him to stop breathing. A blessing really. The doctor came in and declared him gone, and we said our goodbyes. Now we had to go home and go about the task of getting on with life. I spent that night with my mom. I just couldn't leave her alone. She lost the man she'd spent 57 years with. It was going to hit her, and hit her hard at some point. So I stayed. Again being the rock. Holding in my tears, holding in my sorrow, so she could have hers. I've been doing it for so long I don't really know how not to.
I miss him. But the truth is, I've missed him for years. He hasn't been the guy I knew for quite some time. He stopped caring about anything. He stopped wanting to do anything. He existed but had very little quality of life these past few years. So I'm glad he's free. And hope wherever he is, he found his joy again. Love you forever dad. xoxo
I woke up this morning with a start. It was later than I usually wake, around 9:15 am. I had been awake for part of the night/morning and finally fell back asleep somewhere after 7 am. Immediately I realized my heart was racing. I had been dreaming about my friend J who passed away in late March. We were sitting at a kitchen table. If I really look around it was not my house, it was not her house. It was not the house I grew up in, which is where I usually dream dreams of being at home. It was my Grandma's kitchen. I don't really know why I would dream us in my Grandma's kitchen, J had never been there. But if I had to guess I would say that it indicates that J and Grandma are together. But I don't know.
I had so many questions for J, mostly about what is going on with her family. Very recently I have been aware of a situation within her family that is most unfortunate. It happened after she passed. So I asked her about it as I fussed around trying to make coffee or something. She sat at the table, looking so beautiful and so peaceful. If I really think about it and concentrate on this dream, someone was in the living room waiting, and I think it was my Grandma. Sure wish she had come into the kitchen to say Hi, but I think she was there for moral support for J.
We spoke about the situation and she told me how she knows her son will get through it, that he is strong and has good support in his dad. I was relieved to hear that because watching from the sidelines has been difficult and I keep wondering if I should reach out to him and see if he's OK. It cannot be easy for him to be going through this so soon after he lost his mom. She told me that he has, of course, moved back home and things would be OK.
We didn't talk about her but I could see by looking at her and being near her that she looked at peace. She told me she was fine. She looked the same as always. She had her hair, she wore her glasses. She was my J and she didn't want to dwell on herself, just wanted to assure me her son would be fine.
So, do you believe that was an actual visit or just a vivid dream? I believe it was a visit. It's happened to me before with a friend who had passed away a long time ago. M was only 21 at the time, I was 22. He died of a brain tumor and I was devastated to lose him. I had a very hard time coping. It was my first serious brush with losing someone so close to me. It was several weeks, maybe even months after he passed away that I saw him. I could not get him out of my mind and cried a lot. Then one morning, as if in a dream, he appeared to me. He sat on the edge of my bed looking almost luminescent. He told me he was fine, to stop worrying about him and to go on with my life. I was filled with such peace after that and was able to move on. I've never forgotten him or that visit, obviously, but I was able to move past it.
I think you have to be open to such visits for them to actually occur. I would give anything to have them more frequently. I would love to see my Grandma, J, M.... hell even Butthole can come visit me if he wants to! It's beautiful and meaningful and has given me a sense of calm about losing J. Seeing her looking well and knowing my Grandma is with her, showing her the ropes if you will has been amazing. Maybe it's crazy to believe that, but if something like that can give me peace, so be it. I'll take the crazy label.
I've written about J before, a few times. How much she has enhanced my life and how she was a big inspiration for me in starting this blog. I've written how she has been battling lung cancer, a non smoker, and the unfairness I have felt that she contracted the disease. And now it is with a heavy heart and a lot of sadness that I must say she has lost the war with cancer on March 24.
She fought every battle with utmost grace and a dignity that I can only hope to aspire to. Every setback was met with optimism. Every victory, with joy. In the year and nine months since her diagnosis, she looked cancer in the eye and met it head on. It's a testament to her courageous spirit. Sure, at the beginning she wanted to bury her head in the sand and not face it, but once that initial terror/denial ended, she was all strength. I dont' know that I can adequately do her justice because truly she is the bravest person I ever knew. And I will miss her every single day. On the surface, if anyone saw us together they would wonder what these two women have in common. But it was what we had below the surface that really mattered. She was 12 years older than me, but it never made a difference. She had a completely different life than I do, but that didn't matter either. She saw a lot in me that I sometimes have trouble seeing. And I saw in her a beautiful soul with a glorious sense of humor. We clicked immediately and have been friends since around 1996.
In January, things were looking up. The cancer in her lung was all but gone and nothing more than scar tissue. Unfortunately it had spread and there was a spot on her liver. After several different courses of chemo for the liver cancer, that cough came back. The cough that was the beginning of everything. And I knew this was a bad sign. A very bad sign. But I tried hard not to let myself think it. I didn't want to. I knew it was getting down to the wire and that her doctor was running out of treatment options. That cough. It nagged at me.
Through it all she was helping plan her son's wedding and hired me to make candy boxes for the rehearsal dinner. Every time we needed to contact each other it had to be via text or email because once she started to talk the cough took over. And still I tried to remain in denial. I just didn't want to think the worst. I wanted to be optimistic even though the last time I did speak to her, she had told me she's made peace with everything. Strength. Grace. Dignity.
On March 7, her husband called me to let me know that J's treatment options have been exhausted. There was nothing more anyone could do and she was now under hospice care. Her son's rehearsal dinner was the next day, the wedding on March 10. Would she be able to go was my question. Yes, she was going to the wedding come hell or high water, but had opted out of the rehearsal so she could conserve her energy. Good plan. And she did go to the wedding and from the pictures I saw, she looked beautiful.
On March 14, I received a letter in the mail from her. A letter that in essence was a goodbye. Devastating and yet beautiful. Something I will cherish. And a part of which I will share with you....
You are and always will be someone who touched my life in so many positive ways. A little bit of you will always be in me. Much love forever, J
After drying my tears, I texted her to thank her for the beautiful letter and tell her again that I love her and how brave she is. She replied:
Hold on to it and read it when you need a little J in your life. I love you so very much!
I told her I would hold onto it forever, and I will. How do you say goodbye to someone so dear, so special, so a part of you? I don't know. But I will be traveling to Cincinnati this weekend for her Memorial service so I can try to do that. Oh how I wish I could be going there again for a visit, to hang out with her and her husband. To meet her new daughter in law. How I wish it were anything but the reason I am going there. Love you forever J.
It's hard for me to believe that it's been three years since I lost her. One of the most important people in my life, my Grandma. I'm lucky, so so lucky I had her for as long as I did. I was 42 when she passed away, she was 99. October 1, 2008. Only 3 weeks from her 100th birthday.
I've written about her before, several times. One of the things I wanted to accomplish with this blog was to let others know her too. If only everyone could have known her in person. She was so beautiful, so funny, so smart, the best cook ever, someone I could tell anything to, someone who never ever judged. So often I find myself wanting to talk to her, ask for advice on some things, cook with her, eat with her, just be in her presence again. Any time I was with her, I felt like the luckiest person alive. I so wish I had an answering machine message from her saved somewhere. They always made me smile and went something like this....
"Lalia, Can you come and take me to Gallucci's? *pause* *pause* *pause* This is Grandma, I love you."
Remembering that, hearing it in my head, makes me very emotional. The message wasn't particularly clear ever. She never would say when she wanted to go or anything like that. She didn't mince words. I'd just call her back and we'd figure out a time to go. Gallucci's, by the way, is the greatest Italian foods store in Cleveland. And when we went there it was heaven. The aroma of the place is intoxicating. I want to wear it as cologne! I loved going with her. Everyone knew her, everyone took care to make sure she got the best of what she was buying, and we always had a feast when we got back to her house. We would sit at her kitchen table with a little wine or maybe some espresso, and then start opening our bags and laying our feast out on the table. Delicious crusty bread that you pull apart with your hands, five or six different kinds of olives, super sharp provolone and fontinella, salami, pepperoni, capicola and sopressata. Absolutely the best.
I miss those days with her. Just her and I. We talked about everything. She told me stories about her life that always somehow related to something I was going through or having trouble with. She was so smart and so intuitive. She loved her family with a fierceness that really doesn't seem as prevalent today. I don't know that I can explain what I mean by fierce love, but I'll try. When she loved you, she held you close to her heart. You knew. You knew you were in there and there isn't a better place in the world to be. And no matter how she was treated by other family members, because yes, there were people in our family who didn't treat her with the respect she deserved, she loved and held everyone close. She only wanted everyone to get along and be together. It didn't always happen. But I can say we tried, for her sake. I can't say the same for others and still can't, as fights and lawsuits continue so the greedy side can get what they seem to think they deserve. Death sometimes brings out the very worst in people.
But for me, I continue to honor her from the tattoo of her on my arm to wearing her wedding band every day. Whenever I put it on I think of her. I feel so lucky that I get to wear it now.
Yes, I'm lucky. I'm lucky I had her in my life for so long. I'm lucky she lived so close to me. I'm lucky that she loved me. I'm lucky that I learned as much as I did from her, even though I wish I could have learned more. I don't think I would have ever stopped learning from her. I wish everyone could have known her.
