Man Card played; Man Card lost

Tonight I have to surrender my Man Card.  I’m crying on and off.

Yes, it’s anticipation of our younger son moving into the special needs group home tomorrow and not being around here.

Yes, it’s relief after a couple of decades of care giving.

Yes, it’s just all kinds of pent up, ignored, overdue and otherwise not well processed feelings.

Started the day in a manly way.  My older son and I went to the local gun shop and looked at manly guns.

We went on the manly range and I rented a reasonably manly piece and shot some almost manly groupings on my targets.

We went to a manly brasserie and had manly fare including manly beer (fourth one from the top scrolling down).

Now I’m sitting around crying on and off.

I leave this here and sign off:

One plan and many question marks

The staff at our son’s new group home are encouraging us to have him there full time instead of just weekends.  People with autism benefit from (heck, generally insist upon) predictable order, and Joey needs greater regularity in the new place.

But for our part, Melissa (mom) had a good insight for keeping him close at this time of the year.  Joey loves Christmas, and to let him spend time in familiar company, decor and activities showed him “that things he loves are not going away.”

He’s having a very merry Christmas.   I can’t remember one more smiley and less moody.  Last night his brother and sister-in-law took him to dinner, and this picture reveals how much that meant to him.  He’s not one to smile for the camera, after all… Joey Tim Carly

Later they went out to visit some old friends and he was not happy to see them go.  He opened the drapes and watched them get into the car and even verbalized feelings about wanting them to come back in.

We get it, this inevitability of change.  But it is going to be some hard going in our hearts in the short term.

below zero

 

Accenting the emotions is an Arctic cold front sitting on us for the time being.  At first it was just our usual hard winter cold with blue skies and bright sun, but yesterday it went to bleak gray along with… with… well, I’ll let my Chevy do the talking.  I could start a post with “It was a dark and stormy night” and be only a tad melodramatic.

Work is kicking my butt.  We set a sales record in my little department but my body is not what it was and the aches and pains never seem to go away.  I’m not sleeping well stewing about Joey and work and bills and and and and.

But that’s another point in favor of making Joey’s transition happen.  Melissa and I are not getting younger and our skill set and energy for care giving are not going to improve.

The church family from our last place in California is suffering through several members’ deaths in recent months.  These were folks around our age and younger, and two were without warning.   So that’s more pull on our hearts and our minds are grappling with this life’s impermanence and fragility (yes, yes, another point in favor of getting on with Joey’s transition).

Then there’s the coming transition in our marriage.  Don’t even have my heart and head fully wrapped around what empty nest will be like.  How will we be when all the decorations come down and Joey is moved out and the flurry of holiday happenings is over and we’re sitting here staring at each other across years of deferred relationship?

Might as well end this with that question mark, since there are so many things in process, unfinished and unknown swirling through our lives right now.

Twinkle twinkle

Family care giving is as full of constellations as our South Dakota night sky.

There are parents caring for kids, of course.  But also kids of all ages caring for parents.  And spouse for spouse, sibling for sibling, friend for friend, ex for ex, neighbor for neighbor…

After my recent musings about our son’s transition to a group home, I got this message from a friend in the region,

I just read your blog post about Joey’s transition and thought I’d share our journey, for perspective. The same time you were moving Joey in, we were moving my parents from the farm to assisted living. This transition took a turn, a few days in, when suddenly it became necessary to move my dad into memory care. So now they are in 2 separate facilities, both a fairly good fit for each of their needs, but they are separated for the first time in 57 years. When Dad resists, it’s especially hard on Mom who put so much effort into keeping him in the home he loved. Sadly, and fortunately, less resistance from him gives Mom respite but means he’s less engaged and more confused. He’s letting go of his connection to his home and eventually to the people he has loved, as must happen. It seems to me that Joey struggling against his separation and transition is a sign of life and love. Having found a good, safe place for him, he is a pretty lucky guy to have more than one place where he is cared for and loved by people who have the stamina to provide what he needs. I still hope to have that coffee on one of my visits, but concerned relatives seem to fill my dance card these last few trips! Peace!

Our friend’s ability to see the good things in all of the trade offs is so important.  Every constellation of care will have these – some seemingly essential things lost but other wonders gained.  Those latter must be illuminated and gazed upon.  They are lamps of meaning and value against what can become, if not resisted, dark and empty feelings of futility and despair.

So twinkle on, whatever your care giving constellation.

Do all things without murmuring and arguing, so that you may be blameless and innocent, children of God without blemish in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation, in which you shine like stars in the world. It is by your holding fast to the word of life that I can boast on the day of Christ that I did not run in vain or labour in vain.  (Philippians 2:14-16)

Transition

Miss me yet?

Nah, if your life is like mine, you’re up to your posterior in reptiles.  Who cares if some dork blogs about stuff when you have more stuff than you can handle?

About a month ago I wrote happily about our son’s move into a group home.  Reports from the staff continue to be positive.  Heck, last weekend Joey was selectively communicative but smiley just the same when we asked him about the group’s trip to see Disney on Ice. (Random thought: with temperatures dropping here I could probably show a Disney movie in my backyard and call it Disney on Ice.  But I digress).

For now, we have him stay at the new place Friday night through Monday morning.  He spends the “work week” here with us.

So, what’s this like, this zone between empty nest and care giving?  It’s a bit of both.  No, a lot of both.  A word that my wife taught me comes to mind: Transition.  Of course I knew that word in some contexts, but she taught me about it as applied to childbirth, 

This is the hardest phase but also the shortest

Well, let’s hope it’s short.  I mean, the last “phase” was 23 years so this should be a flash in comparison.

Here are some stray things I’m observing and processing.  Hope they might be helpful to you if you are thinking about or in the midst of this kind of transition:

  • Yes, some chores go away.  But others pop up.  He’s technically a tenant now, so I’m writing his rent, utility and activity checks.  So all of a sudden I get extra of one of my favorite tasks, bill paying.  Yep, there’s a flurry of new paperwork in my life.
  • The peace and quiet and laid back pace when he’s not here are wonderful.  All that stuff you hoped/are hoping for?  Yep.  No middle of the night interruptions.  No bathroom accidents.  No holes drilled in your head by verbal perseveration about this and that.  No structuring your day around care giving routines. Coffee tastes better, hot strangers ask you out on dates, the moon is in the seventh house…  OK, I’m exaggerating.  But this big change is a real and overdue blessing.
  • Life continues to dole out rations of crud.  All the other stuff that you were ignoring comes into focus.  Our years-past-the-average-lifespan-of-her-breed dog is having various symptoms of her advanced age.  And so we have the discussion of spending lots of bucks to keep her going or to play the bad guy and have her put down.  Yes, the new freedom is nice.  But life continues to do its thing in your face.
  • Emotions bounce around.  And I mean for all of us.  The other day Joey kept bringing up “donuts and pizza,” a sweet dad and son routine we’ve been having on Saturdays for years.  He misses it.  When he vocalized it, it went right to my heart and it frigging tugged.  No, not tugged.  Applied a wrestling finishing move.  Mom reads the emotions in Joey’s eyes.  She can see he’s struggling with the change – not that he can’t handle the routines and activities of the new place, but that he’s homesick for our place.  So is the lesson that providing a loving home will come back to break your heart?  (Man, sorry, now I sound like sappy pop “Christmas” muzak.  But I digress, again.)
  • Challenging discussions come up.  Should our response to his objections be to immerse him into the group home more aggressively or to prolong his weekended status until he stops lamenting?
  • Holidays are a mixed bag.  The house is filled with familiar decorations and activities that Joey loves.  Having him home much of the week is, we hope, reassurance that life as he knows it isn’t over.  We’re still including him in fun with people he knows and adores (and who reciprocate that affection!)  But the emotional upheaval of a big transition in these tender times adds pangs of pain.  (Dang, this does sound like childbirth).

In other news, Joey brought home some seasonal arts and crafts pieces from his day program, among them this little wreath ornament:

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It’s the only ornament on our tree right now.  We are having a bunch of friends over on an upcoming night to have pizza and other good stuff with Joey and to help us finish decorating the tree.

The green holds the hope of spring against the winter gloom. Transition is the short, painful phase that gives way to the birth of a new life.

Hope to share more soon.  Meanwhile, my prayer is that you find blessing in all of your transitions.