it's embarking on a year

It is coming up to a year since my Mom has passed away. I can't believe it's been almost a year since that fateful weekend. I've written a little about the passing but mostly from a place I call the "Wastelands" a place and book title by Stephen King from his Dark Tower series where he titled it after a highly influential 434-line modernest poem by T. S. Eliot. This was not a good place to be. It was desolate and dark with a very eerie feeling as though a tornado could hit down anywhere or a gigantic earthquake could rock the earth. Ominous and foreboding couldn't even describe what was to come.

It also felt as if I were the only one in an airplane, sitting in the co-pilot's seat watching the plane plummet, spiraling in slow motion with no control and no way to pull out of the fall.

This was the deepest, darkest place I have never been. I hardly remember the 6 months after February 24th. I know it was somewhat of a blur. The morning of her death was such a surreal feeling. She died at 5:15am on a gloomy, overcast Sunday. After the whole family had left the rehab center where she passed, my Uncle was driving me back to the house I grew up in, my Mom's house. That drive was a blur. I remember thinking how finished it was and how much was left unsaid. . .


My mom had been diagnosed with a tumor inside her lung 6 months prior that turned out to be lung cancer. Her prognosis was uncertain so she went through chemo and radiation. Living over 70 made it difficult to really ascertain how her level of health was really. I had both my sister and brother living with her, taking her to her doctor's appts. yet I think even they were led to believe her situation was positive.


I had a trip planned with our youngest son to visit my Mom and family in Salinas the weekend of Feb. 22nd. That week prior to that weekend, Duque, my oldest brother mentioned that they moved Mom from the hospital into a rehabilitation place. This sounded like good news as it seems she would be on yet another road to recovery however throughout that week, I kept getting updates that her condition was getting worse and finally by Friday morning, 3 hours before Asher and I were to get on a plane to fly down to Salinas, my family said it was not good and that Mom was becoming unresponsive and seemed to be in a lot of pain. . .


Just a side note, I rarely saw my mom in pain, if ever, while growing up. She was silent and stoic. That morning while I was trying to get ready to leave with Asher, I broke down finally realizing that this could be it. Now for some reason, I always thought that when it was time for my Mom to go, I would be very calm and understanding of the whole process. Having that realization that morning crippled me. Luckily my wife and our oldest son, got on the phone really quick and were able to secure tickets on the same flight which was a godsend for what I was about to go through.


We flew down and immediately drove from the airport in San Jose to the rehab center in Salinas where my Mom was staying. When entering the room, that was not the Mom I grew up with. To spare you the details, her physicality had changed quite dramatically and she was barely audible. Through all my life, my Mom has been a rock, a fortress, self sufficient and the most selfless person I knew. She was now a mere shell of what she was and it was insanely difficult to take in.


I first got an update of the status and type of care she'd been receiving while in this rehabilitation clinic. My brother, sister and myself were wondering why she wasn't being moved back into the hospital to fight whatever she had that was taking over. We had tried to page her doctor but wouldn't hear from him until the end of the next day. From that Friday night on, my brother, sister and I were by her side trying to make her as comfortable as we could.


For me, that started Friday afternoon. From that point until Sunday morning, there were many ups and downs. At one point on Saturday, my cousin Aaron and his wife Brenda were in the room while the others were out. It came to a point where my Mom was vocalizing "she was done" and that she didn't want to do this anymore. That 20 minutes while I softly rubbed her brow and told her that it was okay to let go and that everything would be alright. I told her how good a job she did in raising all of us and that she meant everything to us. I thought right then and there that it was coming to an end. It was also the most lucid moment in my entire time with my Mom that weekend. She looked into my eyes and said, "I don't want to do this anymore, I just want it to end. . ." in which I said, "Let it go Mom, we'll be okay, just let go" while tears were streaming down my face. I finally was able to calm her for the time being and that was just one of the many rollercoaster moments I endured that weekend.

When Saturday night rolled around, her doctor finally showed up and my brother and myself went to speak with him in the hallway outside my Mom's door. We asked about her condition and why she wasn't being moved back to the hospital. The doctor then laid down the boom. He said her body was shutting down and their wasn't much to be done, other than make her comfortable. Whenever she seems in pain, give her a dose of morphine.

Now morphine kind of puts the patient into a la la state and their ability to comprehend decreases immensely. My sister, brother and myself agreed we'd rather not see her in pain as she was pretty far out already. We then started the morphine to at least relieve the pain she was having which seemed to be increasing minute by minute.

There was one moment that Saturday night that seemed to change the landscape quite a bit. There was this nurse who reminded me of Zelda Rubinstein, the little short lady from Poltergeist and she would usher us out, as she was in charge of changing the sheets and linens and any other incidentals that needed to be taken care of that night. By then, there was quite a bit of family that had shown up. We all slumbered into the lobby as it was just after 11, however my brother, sister and myself felt compelled to get back in the room as soon as possible before the rest of the family.

It was at this moment when we entered the room, that we saw my Mom sort of sitting up and her eyes were wide open and it seemed like the last look of life that came out of her. Her eyes were wide as if she knew this was it. It seemed really strange that right after this Poltergeist lady visited the room knowing that our mother was in her final hours, that the last of our Mom's life was emitted. After that moment, she became a low breathing vegetable. Duque and I sent Robynn home for a few hours to sleep around midnight. It was just Duque and myself in the room with the weird Poltergeist lady showing up every so often to let us know the progression of her death.


I must say, seeing that rapid decline in my Mom's health through to the final breath was a sight I wish I wouldn't have seen. A lot of people have brought up to me that they would much rather be there during the whole process and receive the closure they anticipate they will get. Let me tell you, that was the hardest 36 hours I've ever gone through and don't recommend it to anyone. When I think of my Mom nowadays, I think of that last weekend with her in utter turmoil and sores inside her mouth and pretty much incoherent. i hate those images and yet they are burned in my mind forever.

My mother was silent and stoic and she lived a tough life. She was the most influential and important woman in my life. As my Uncle Dave said to my Mom shortly after her death, "Have fun Janet, have fun!" I hope your having a great time Mom and I can't wait to see you. . .

Where to hide?

The alcoves in Koningin Astridpark. . .

Polite Sneeze

Whatever happened to sneezing politely? Seriously, there are a few people in my office that when they sneeze, it sounds as if they're spraying their phlegm all over their desk. GROSS! Try to cover your nose and mouth when you sneeze. Cover it up, people! Don't Attssschoooooooo so loud that it it reaches my area. This should be common sense but apparently it isn't since multiple people have this issue in just my office alone, not to mention when I take mass transit. It's so wrong and I get so disgusted with the people that can't control their sneezing.

There is also those ultra polite people that when they sneeze they are able to keep it within their head and it seems as if their head will explode as they hold their nose and close their mouth and let the little time bomb go off. I have no problem with these people other than I'm afraid for their lives each time they do this.

So that's it, I had to get this off my chest. I may delete this post later on but it was screaming out of me especially when every time a certain someone sneezes and it's like a typhoon is launched from their cube. . . not good.

Closer

I lay down in my bed, I take one earphone and insert it into my left ear and then the same to the right ear. I lay my head back and press play. A synthesizer starts it off slow and melodic for a few turns, then a unsuspected snap of the snare brings me out of the trance I'm in and owns me.

All I can do is shudder with fear as the haunting wale comes in from the guitarist's pickups. By the time the lyrics come in, I already know this is my anthem giving me power in every situation. The guttural voice sings with a controlled yell that is un-paralleled.

Still that synthesizer and drum beat flow through my head as I listen to the words. It's insane the rush I feel listening to this song that I could hear it over and over again. As it drops it's canter leaving just the synthesizer, it feels like a lullaby putting me to sleep. . .good night

35

Well, today I turned 35, I don't feel much older although I feel very emotional being my first birthday without having my mother around to celebrate with. I didn't think it would hit me as hard as it has. Just another day. . .

The Basis of What?

Jules: What does Marcellus Wallace look like?
Brett: What?
Jules: What country you from?
Brett: What?
Jules: What ain't no country I ever heard of! They speak English in What?
Brett: What?
Jules: ENGLISH, MOTHERFUCKER! DO-YOU-SPEAK-IT?
Brett: Yes!
Jules: Then you know what I'm saying!
Brett: Yes!
Jules: Describe what Marcellus Wallace looks like!
Brett: What, I-?
Jules: [pointing his gun] Say what again. SAY WHAT AGAIN. I dare you, I double dare you, motherfucker. Say what one more goddamn time.

The never ending strive for perfection

This is one of my tattoos. With tattoos, I believe in putting them in discrete places so I can show them when I want but they're not exposed when wearing normal clothes. This tattoo is on the inside of my right bicep.

This tattoo in particular I designed and had done a few years ago when I was about 24 years old. My wife and I decided on a whim to go gettem one evening after work and we happened upon Al's Rock of Ages tattoo parlor, on El Camino Real. We were living in San Mateo and working in SF at the time. I ended up designing this puzzle theme after seeing an episode of X-files with Mulder and Scully working on a case at a carnival. Within this episode, a sideshow performer in real life was playing a character as himself, the Enigma. That sentence may not read correctly but I'm not clever enough at the moment to change it.

I'm really not sure where I'm going with this post so I think I'll stop but I will be getting another one soon. I just need to design it. Ohh wait, there was a story about getting to the tattoo parlor that goes a little like this:

My wife and I drive to the location which isn't far from our apartment at the time; I'm driving. We see the place on the left but I turned too early into a small parking lot for a apartment complex and as I drive around the back to find a place to turn around, I see a black extension cord going across the driveway and is attached to a lamp that a man is using to see under the hood as he was obviously trying to work on his truck. As I drive over the cord, I see him look at us and I just want to get the heck outta this lot since it looks a little shady. I start my 3 point turn but as I back up, I drive right over where two extension cords meet and I see his bulb flash and go out. Uh oh, he looks at his bulb and then at us in a disgusted look and I immediately high-tail it out of there, not wanting to stay to see what he would have done. When we get to the end of the driveway, we would need to go left to the tattoo parlor but I'm so freaked out about that guy's lamp and thinking it was a bad omen, I just wanted to go back home and forget about the tattoo that evening.

My wife however still wanted to do it and mentioned if she didn't get one that night, she might back out altogether so I agreed and we ended up parking on the street several streets over so that dude couldn't see where we went if he was gonna follow us which I don't think he did. We laughed at the whole situation after we got home that night but holy cow, at that moment, we were both freaked out and the auspice involving the breaking of the bulb almost made us give up on the whole tattoo thing for good; glad we didn't :)