A Stitch In Time

Last night was an OK night.  I slept through the night but my mom, she got dressed and sat in her room in the dark until I woke around 6am.  I think I heard her around 4:30 or 5 this morning, but she didn't squeak the floor.  I assumed she had gone back to sleep.

Our Internet went out last night around 9p, right after I posted my last post to my blog. 

I began missing the internet immediately, asking myself questions...  How did I ever work from home in the past with just a dial-up line?  How did I get along with out instant information at my finger tips or have the ability to communicate with anyone in the world, from the comfort of my chair?

This morning, anxious to get back to work, I began to try and solve my bad router issue.  I pulled out an old router and began to turn into the Geek I have been for so many years before becoming my mom's Care Giver.  It didn't work.  Oh well, I was ready to wait until tomorrow for the new router to arrive.

I began to work, analyzing code that I'm working on.  The computer was grinding and churning, doing it's work. I decided to dig out all of my old notes and files that I had from the days when I was a Systems Engineer. 

Upstairs, my mom greeted me in the kitchen.  She was becoming bored and agitated from having nothing to do.  My goal for months has been to get her interested in some activity that she can do by herself. 

Knitting?

Knitting was the first activity that I attempted to get her interested in.  She always loved to knit and would make us slipper boots from yarn when we were kids.  I loved those boot things, they made it so easy to slide across the living room floor.  No luck getting her to knit.  Her eyesight isn't very good and she can't maneuver the yarn like she once could.  Knitting frustrated her amd made things worse; she got to see what she couldn't do.

Painting?

Painting was next on the list.  My sister had her paint a few weekends ago.  She painted one painting and then that was the end of painting.  She wasn't interested in it.  Bummer.  The painting will be one we can treasure someday when she's gone.

This morning, while looking for reference materials that I can use for my new job, I noticed a pile of quilting fabric quarters and my sewing machine.  I love quilting during my "spare" time.  Of course I don't have any spare time. I haven't been using the fabric that I have to make all the quilts that I want to make.  That's when I thought, "Yes!  I'll get Ma to make the quilts!" 

Sewing?

I asked my mom, "Would you like to sew?  I have so many quilts to make, maybe you can help me?"

Oh, she loved the idea.  I let her pick out the fabric and began by giving her one simple repeatable task.  First, put all the pins in the pin cushion.  Next, pin the fabric together ... like this.... 

Happily my mom sat in the sunroom with the TV on as she pinned the fabric together.  I would check her work and help her to make it right.  She told me she was having fun, it helps to pass the time.  I'm hoping that she can operate the sewing machine.  It's a simple machine so I don't expect her to have trouble. 

My mom loved to sew.  So many times throughout my life she talked about the coat that she made my sister Ann when she was a toddler.  She had made it from scratch.  She made the pattern with a brown paper bag.  It was her favorite thing that she had ever made.  There's a picture somewhere with Ann wearing that coat.  I do need to find it and add it to this post someday.

Today, it appears that my mom is happy.  She feels that she's got a purpose, even if it is just sewing fabric together for lap quilts.  One day, those quilts will be beautiful reminders of the day my mom made her stitch in time.

The Hawk Messengers

In American Indian lore, hawks have the ability to travel between both worlds, the now and the hereafter; bringing with him messages for the observer.

Red Tailed Hawks have made their way back into my life, flying over my back yard, with a message for me to receive today. 

Just last week, on Wednesday, one  flew low and glided by my office window.  The sight of this massive bird, took my breath away, I knew it was bringing me a message.  The day I saw the hawk fly low was the day my mom freaked out and cried, she believed that I was admitting her to a nursing home. 

Through the power of love, I was able to overcome this huge upset with my mom.  I got her to believe me, that this is her home and we love her.  It lasted about 5 days. 

Why the setback?

Writing today, I looked out my window and up toward the sky as I often do,  pondering my next thought ... I spot the hawk, flying in circles as it glided on an air current.

What message could the Hawk be bringing to me today, what is it that I need to know or do? 

Looking more closely, I observe a pair of Hawks flying in the sky above my back yard.  Annoyingly, crows attempted to chase the hawks, but the raptors flew unadulterated by the crow's nagging. 

Today, unlike any other day, the hawks flew strong, they flew together in unison, ignoring the 3 black crows who appeared to be on a mission to exterminate the great hawks from my view.

How does one determine the message from the Great Hawk Spirit that visits? 

My mom, she's a little uneasy today, thinking she's got to go somewhere.  She was up at 3:30am and at 5am this morning, she was up and fully dressed, waiting to go somewhere... when asked where she was going, she had no idea.  She told me that "the girl" was coming for her. 
Today I started my new job. Could my job be causing her confusion?  It is a change in our routine. But, something still wasn't right this morning, even after I seemed to talk her off the ledge that she put herself on.  I waited awhile and checked on her again. Upon entering her room, she had her coat ready to put on and a plastic bag filled with random things. 

Her purse.  A clean pair of socks.  A clean pair of jeans.  Two pairs of gloves. 

What hidden meaning is in the bag? 

Hidden clues, inside the bag, silent messages with no apparent rhyme or reason.   Something is making her feel that she needs to go to her "other house"... there is no other house, so what is the underlying cause for her searching for home?

Wherever she thought she was going, was only for the day, she told me that she'd be back tonight.  Uncle Al visited a lot today, he's still alive in a nursing home. My mom is worried that he's coming to live here, she does not want him in living here. I assured her that this is our home and Uncle Al will still live at the nursing home. I'm not sure I got through to her.

My mom was cold today, she told me that she was shivering to the bone.  The thermostat in her room was reading 78 degrees farenheit.  It was hot... I broke out in hot flashes.  My mom was cold and I had to do something.  I knew I needed to help make her feel at home.

The hawks message was for me to pay attention to my mom.  To listen and watch for the clues that could be causing her to be uneasy.  I did.

I heated the heating pad while she put on her pajamas.  I spoke to her in a soft and upbeat voice.  I hugged her a lot. 

We'll see what happens tonight, if she sleeps through to the morning.

Stay tuned.  I feel like I figured it out and that tonight everyone will sleep through the night.

The House of Cards

Living with the demented is like living in a house of cards; fragile and defenseless against any wind, even the slightest breeze can bring the house down. 

It's easy for a Care Giver to feel as though we are walking on a ceiling of glass, waiting for it to break with the weight of our load.  Care giving is difficult because no one really seems to appreciate what you do.  The main reason that it becomes imperative to have an ego box at your door.  Our duties becomes expected because we've always done it.  No glamore, no pay and no life... this appears to be the life of a care giver. 

Why the hell do we do it then?

I can only speak for myself.  It's because of love.  Love for my mom and love for myself.  I feel honor in helping my mom, not all the time though, I'm no saint.  I do strive toward being "saintly", why not?  It's good Karma and it's just as easy to be nice as it is to be an ass hole.


Navigating through a demented world, it's our responsibility to keep life together for ourselves.  The challenges of balancing our lives while watching a parent move closer toward infancy, closing their circle of life before they take their final curtain call, can often suffocate the care giver.  I know.  I've been there more than once.

Each time it happens, I am forced to reexamine my beliefs, things that I believed to be true... things that were clearly evident as being false, if only I had allowed myself to see with my eyes and not with my heart.  But, life happens and each blip on my journey with my mom makes me ask questions of myself.  I look for answers and solutions, looking outside of the box and looking deep within my soul for a road to peace and happiness. 

Communicating with the demented mind is the most difficult aspect of care giving for those with mental imparement.  It's not only a challenge for the care giver to understand what the loved one needs; the patient has a challenge with self-expression. 

I would imagine it's the frustration that a baby might feel, not being able to tell their parents what they want, it appears similar for my mom with dementia.  Some days she tries like hell to tell me what she wants but can't find the right words.  She will call her grandson her nephew, her brother her son... no rhyme nor reason, just a problem with words. 

Finding words to express the self is a problem that seems to scare folks when communicating with the demented.  Our minds expect a certain word or phrase but it's not delivered, causing our brains to twist and stop.  To me, communicating with my mom is akin to ones brakes locking up and sending ones car spinning out of control.

The more that my mom can't find her words, the fewer visitors she receives.  No one calls her on the phone anymore.  It makes my mom cry, she's waiting for her family... they never come.  She misses the kids she never sees or talks to.  It's tough when she's crying, asking me to find them because she believes that they need us, that they are in trouble.  It's these little exchanges that are toughest on the care giver. 

Like a parent, we want to stop our loved one's emotional pain.  We want to make it all better, just like they used to do for us, but in this instance, we can't.  We can only control our actions.  We can't make anyone do anything, regardless how much you believe that if the siblings got involved our parent would be happy. 

The lesson that I learned is ignore your brothers and sisters who don't want to be involved.  Trying to change their minds or get them involved is a futile effort and a waste of energy.  I know.  I cried way too many hours over the absence of my family before I realized it's stupid to cry because they are afraid to face death through the eyes of our mom.

From experience, communicating with my mom can be done.  It takes a little patience and a lot of listening.  When visiting my mom, folks need to listen to what she's saying, not the words, but the feeling in her voice.  Her tone, the inflection in her voice, all helps provide clues with how to communicate effectively with the demented mind.

Communicating is best done through the heart.  It's emotions that my mom feels.  These emotions transcend time and space, it knows no boundaries.  If someone is upset or aggitated around my mom, she will be more likely to use the wrong word to express herself.  If she's nervous or scared, all bets are off, she becomes a babbling idiot and people around her are frightened, especially her family.

Love is the universal language, especially for the demented mind.  Love is the glue that holds the house of cards together, giving it strength to weather even the toughest storm.

The Power of Hugs

Our house is finally calm, something that I wasn't sure we'd ever experience until our mom's were both gone.  But, we did it, we have peace in our home.

My mom, she was at a place mentally that sent her spiralling downward; all caused by two words, NURSING HOME.  Those two words together made my mom sob and shake uncontrollably in fear, she does not want to go to a home, not now, not ever. 

Getting through this last bump on my trip down the highway of dementia was no easy feat.  I cried.  I was on the verge of giving up and just saying fuck it, you're going!  But... when I had that thought, the thought of dumping my mother, getting rid of her, it made my stomach sick.  My blood pressure elevated to unhealthy levels.  My stress was so intense that I felt physical pain in my body.  I cried a lot before I realized that crying wasn't going to solve anything, only action on my part; I needed to figure something out.

I read an article somewhere on the web that told me to hug my mom because the behaviors she had been displaying were signs that she was scared.  Wanting to go home, that just meant she was frightened and was looking for a safe place.   Her hallucinations are more prevalent when she's scared, this made my job of turning things around much more difficult.

I had to turn this around!

Initially, she wouldn't hug me back.  She stood still like a board, not offering any emotion in return except for anger.  My mom was angry with me.  She believed that she was going to be put in a shitty nursing home, like the one her brother currently lives. 

Checking my ego at the door, keeping it locked up, is what helped me to get through this last round of upset.  I laughed when my mom got mad.  I couldn't help it.  I was looking at the whole scene like I was inside a movie.  It helped to laugh.  The sound of laughter seemed to shift my mom's thinking from anger to "hey, what's so funny, share the joke with me!" 

Slowly my mom came around.  I gave her positive suggestions using hypnosis techniques, the mind is still suggestible even with dementia.  I also gave her a homeopathic remedy for thyroid, it lifted her melancholy and increased her appetite.  She doesn't eat when she's in a demented spinout.

Life is peaceful in our home once more.  My mom knows that she lives here, today anyway.  I now have her sit in our sitting room next to the kitchen during the day so that she sees the sun.  The TV is easy for her to operate in there, just local channels with a simple remote control.  The sun shines in that room.  It's reminesce of her bedroom that she had in the house that I had bought for us to live, a place that she loved, a home where she felt safe.

Today, I understand the power of hugs so much more.  I love hugging people... I love getting hugs.  Hugs are universal, they do not require any language to be spoken.  To me, a hug is like being wrapped in angel wings of comfort and love by a human angel.

We all need angels, especially human angels that come to our rescue during our darkest hours, filling our hearts with light through a hug.

I've learned the power of hugs and now I'll give them out more freely.  If you need a hug, call me... If I need a hug, I'll call you!  Deal?

Thumbs Down Good

Yesterday I spent the day doing things that would help my mom feel that she's wanted here in our home.  The talk of nursing homes, the memory of the bus trip and the call from the nursing home looking for her, freaked her out.  It shook my mom to her core, she cried, which shook me to my core.

The memory of my mom sobbing didn't make me feel too good yesterday.  I was up the night before last, wide awake, crying all night.  My heart was heavy.  I didn't know if I could keep going on as a care giver, mostly because I'm tired and need a break from it. 

Explosive shits, nothing like cleaning one up to create thoughts of hopping in my truck and driving away as fast as I can.  As fun as it was to fantasize about getting the hell away as fast as possible, I chose to stare this trouble down, pull myself up and create a positive attitude.  It seemed to be the only solution to a potential nightmare with my demented mother.

A positive attitude rescued me from going to the dark side of life, the place without joy, Hell on Earth.  I don't know about you but Hell sucks.  Especially when you are trapped with a demented person who has the ability to amplify all your emotions.  The secret of escaping this awful place is to leave all negative thoughts in the box by the door.  It's difficult because we the Care Giver need to remember that our ego is the biggest troublemaker and all issues with our wards usually stems from our egos.

Yesterday, my mom was still angry with me.  She sat with a tight face, her angry look.  I always hated her angry look and yesterday, after a night of no sleep, seeing my mom sob and cleaning up shit, it took all I had to see past the angry face and understand why she was frightened.

It all comes down to the thought of being admitted to a nursing home, my mom's greatest fear.  Somehow I was able to convince her that she is staying her with us, that this is her home.  I hugged my mom a lot yesterday, all through the day, I would hug her and tell her how much we love her.  I fed my mom a steady stream of love yesterday, love from my heart and she felt it.  She responded like a wilting flower that perked up and stood tall with just a little attention.

At bed time, I asked my mom, "So, how are you doing?  Do you feel better than you did last night?  My mom replied with a big smile on her face, "Yup, thumbs down!" 

She didnt' mean to use those words, she was trying to tell me that she felt really great.  She continued on as I looked puzzled, attempting to understand what she was trying to say, "I trust you.  I believe you.  I am home."  My mom said to me with a smile.  Her face was soft, the tightness from her fright had lifted, we were all in for a very good night of solid sleep.

Last night, we all got to sleep with God... Amen!

I'm the Last One...

My mom had a fairly good day.  She was clear and able to change the simple TV remote control that we have set up with regular over the air TV broadcasts.  It works out great for her, giving her the sense that she's improving.

I did my mom's hair this morning, using new rollers that I picked up on Sunday.  Her hair came out really great.  The new rollers made her hair much curlier; she loved the curls and her new hairdo.

After lunch, I promised her that I'd take her out, I needed a few things at the market for dinner.  We had a nice trip around Whole Foods.  My mom pushed the cart all over the store, she was exhausted when we were done.

We got home and I decided to do some laundry before making dinner.  The phone rang.  I didn't hear it until I heard a voice, it was Blaire House talking to my mother!  My mom picked up the phone and then I picked up an extension.  I began talking, my mom was listening. 

I went upstairs with the phone and my mom had placed the extension phone on the table next to the chair.  She began to walk around me, not taking her eyes off me, keeping her distance.   She was scared... OF ME!

Blaire House wanted to know why my mom hasn't been there.  I told them that she's been sick.  I also told them that the bus ride scared the shit out of her and she doesn't want to go. 

My mom, from whatever she heard, she believed that I was calling "the nut house" to have her admitted.  She went from cool and calm to a total nut case. 

Today I needed patience.  It took a lot to be calm and talk her off the ledge she put herself on with wild thoughts.  It is my fault, I opened up the proverbial Pandora's Box, my mom's greatest fear is going to a nursing home; this week I brought those words up several times.  She thinks that she's going tomorrow.

My heart is heavy and it aches.  Tonight, for the first time in my life, I saw my mom cry because she was scared.  It was like no sight I have ever seen.  Her lip quivering, eyes welling with tears as she blubbered out, "I'm the last one, it's my turn to go to the nut house.  My mother, my sister, my brother and ... NOW ME!!!!!!!!!!  Booo Hooo tears that I have never seen, poured out of my mom's eyes.

My eyes filled and I climbed in bed and laid next to her.  I hugged my little mom, who laid crying in bed, shaking from the fear of the thought of going to a nursing home. 

"Susie, do you know what they do to people in those places?"  she cried.  I cried.  I sobbed along side my mom.  I felt her give up on living.  She started to tell me to leave.  I wouldn't.  I stayed.  I reassured her that when she sees me she's home.  I told her that she's staying home tomorrow.  I gave her Reiki and prayed.  I said the Hail Mary, I prayed to Mary with all of my heart.  I prayed for my mom to have peace.

My mom wouldn't stop crying.  I started to sob, sitting up in the middle of the bed, crying.  I didn't know what to do, I didn't know how to calm my mom.  Nothing was working because I wasn't calm... I was stuck in a bad place, I needed a miracle.

Crying got through to my mom, she heard her daughter crying, she embraced me and told me to stop, that everything is OK.  We stopped crying.

Tonight during the craziness of bedtime, my mom told me that she was sad because she wasn't going to see anyone anymore.  I asked her what she meant.  She couldn't tell me.  She cried.  Her face was white as a ghost.  She believes that tomorrow she's going to a nursing home to live.

My mom, she's horrified to go to a nursing home.  She's seen them all her years, with her mother, sister and brother all in a convalescent home; she's scared.  She's afraid of abuse.  She's afraid of all the scary things associated with a home.

She's not going to a home, not tomorrow. 

Tonight, I went upstairs for water and saw my mom awake.  She saw me and ran around the corner to hide.  I went to see if she was OK.  Well, I gagged.  The clean sheats and mattress pad that I JUST took out of the drier and put on her bed, soiled.  Oh well. 

My mom, she was scared when she made a little mess, for years I told her that when she can't control her bowels, it will be time for a home.  God... what awful timing for her bowels to let go, tonight of all nights.

Of course I was gentle with my mom.  Not making a fuss and getting clean sheets on her bed.  I sprayed them with lavender scented water and dabbed lavender oil on the pulse points of her wrist and behind her ears and one at the base of her throat.  She drifted back to sleep as I smoothed her hair behind her ear and told her that everything will be OK.

"I Want to Go Home" ... What Does She REALLY Mean?

Yesterday I began the search for nursing homes for my mom.  It was a tough day, mostly because deep down, I really don't want to do it. 

Finding a home and doing the research appears to be a monuental task, a full time job.  But, it will get done, the outcome will be better for my mom and me.

I want to go home... what does it mean?

Feeling a bit dejected yesterday, I did a search on the internet to see if I could figure out what my mom really means when she says she wants to go home.  Her words, she can't find the right ones, are never as they seem.  It's the deeper meaning, the underlying cause that is important to hear, the silent words, the ones left unspoken, these are the words we need to hear when with the demented.

I found this article on Caring.com which talks about the meaning, of "I want to go home" from the demented.  The jist of the article is that the individual is insecure and scared.  They are looking for the comfort and safety of home.  It could be any home that my mom has lived in during her life, a home where she felt safe. 

Obviously she can't go back to any of her former homes, even if she did, it would be different and not home.  The solution that the article provide was to hug her.  To let her know that she's loved right where she is. 

All the talk of going to a nursing home really threw her off kilter.  It's when I started to bring her to Blaire House for day care that she really started to roam the house again, night after night, looking for a way to go home. 

My mom is scared of nursing homes.  She's afraid of being abused or worse, left alone.  My mom. maybe she really just wants to go to her home in heaven or wherever we go when we die.  I don't know, I'll never really know for sure. 

All I can do while I visit and research nursing facilities that it's a place that I could live.  It will more than likely cost us some money but, my mom is worth it.  I can earn the money, like my brother Ed always used to say, "You don't have money?  Well just go make more."  What a philosopher!

One thing that I have not tried yet was making the subliminal recording using hypnosis techniques on my mom.  I was having trouble with the words to use as suggestions for her demented mind.  Dementia, it's new to me, I'm learning as I go along what is right and what isn't.  Just as my dad taught me as a little girl when he had me look at that flag in his text book, then look at the wall... nothing is ever as it seems, especially with the demented.

Yesterday, I had my epiphany with the subliminal recorded messages for my mom, the phrases that I will use to help my mom flooded my thoughts as I prepared dinner last night.  Chopping vegetables always seems to trigger solutions in my mind to things that are troubling.

Today, I will make my mom her subliminal recording and have her listen to it all afternoon.

Standby... we'll see if it helps her to relax and sleep all night, feeling that she's already home.  Maybe hypnosis is the missing link, the one thing that my mom needs to help her to function "normally" and remain in my home until her end of days?

Ma Wants to Go Home

Last Friday, I came to the conclusion that my mother needs to be in a nursing facility.  Over the weekend, I had to come to terms with my mother's condition, she is declining fast.  I feel badly, I wish it were different, I did all that I could to help her have a comfortable old age.  Did I fail my mom because I have to put her in a home?

I'm scared for her.  I'm scared for me. 

Questions are flooding my brain.  My heart is heavy.  My stomach is doing flips and turns... my eyes are leaking.

Will I find the right place for her?  How do I handle her telling me that she hates me when I have her admitted? 

Already she's telling me that she can't stand the sight of me, because I told her that she's becoming too much for me to handle. 

Her abandonment issues are front and center, proved by her clutching her purse, with her coat on, ready to go somewhere at all hours of the day and night ... home is her destination.

My mom wants to go home.  All night, all day, she roams with her coat on, clutching her purse, wondering how she's going to get home.  

The experiences I'm having with my mom are the most difficult of my life.  I do feel alone and abandoned too, everyone offering advice, "Just put her in a home" words that are so much easier said than acted upon.  But, I'll do it and once it's over, I'll be stronger.

My mom wants to go home... I wish I knew where home is. 

Lessons Learned from Dad

Dad wasn't a bright bulb when he first became a dad, what dad is?  Kids don't come with instruction manuals.

My dad was uneducated and could not keep a job. Not because he was a direlect, it was just how it seemed to work out for him. He struggled a lot through his life as an uneducated man.  Did his thoughts create his troubles?

In his late 30's early 40's he went back to school, after the bursitis in his elbow caused him to have to quit his job as a shoe die maker. He went back to school and got his GED.

I was 9 when my dad went back to school. My dad taught me the importance of education through his example. We did our homework together at the table, one of my favorite things to do with my dad.  He'd also write a vocabulary word on Marty's toy chalk board, every morning, with the definition.  My dad, he encouraged us to try and use the word in as many sentences as we could.  It was his way of helping to build our vocabulary and on a grander scale, my dad taught me to love education.

He went on to college after earning his high school diploma equivalent. Dad loved psychology and all things paranormal. My dad believed in UFO's and would sit in the back yard at night with me, we'd look up at the sky and watch for aliens flying by. Once, I remember thinking I saw one and my dad went along with my fantasy. My dad loved to feed my wild imagination and often told me that I would achieve great things in life.  I believed him.

Dad, he taught all of us how to see auras. I remember he lined us up against a big white wall of cabinets in our dinning room. He would have some of us against the wall and the other kids, he'd have standing next to him. He showed us how to see the outline of the energy field around the human body. He told us to squint our eyes a little until it focused in, "look at the top of the head" he coached, "look at the outer edge of the body." My dad was excited to teach us about auras.

The joy I had when I saw my first aura, it was Ed's aura that I had seen. Once we saw the aura around Ed, Dad instructed Ed to move his energy body with his mind. "Eddie, visualize in your mind where you want to go. See yourself moving, but don't move... OK... move!" Dad exlaimed.

We all watched and sure enough, I remember seeing Ed's aura move. It was an energy field, it looked like it was made of a hazy white matter, but I could see through it. I learned that we are energy and our thoughts are real, my thoughts can take me places, places that I later discovered is where I go for peace and sollace.

Dad also taught us about our vision and it's connection with the brain. How the brain sees things that aren't there. I remember looking at a picture of a flag in one of his text books. Dad had us look at the picture and focus on it. Then he had us look up at the white wall. The flag, it was the American Flag, in all it's glory, red, white and blue... floating on the wall. Through this lesson, I learned that nothing is as it seems, we should question things that we "see."

Most importantly, Dad taught me the importance of family and that we need to stick together. This last lesson that I had learned from my dad, is the most daunting for me. Why? Because it's up to my individual siblings to feel the same way about family in order for it to work the way my dad had taught.

I love my dad. He died at 49 but I feel fortunate to have had a chance to know him and learn.  My dad, he was my first real spiritual teacher. He taught me to strive to be a leader. He provided me the courage to beat the odds and break the chain of poverty.  Dad saw my potential and encouraged me, he helped me to believe that I can do anything that I set my mind toward achieving.  I am grateful for my dad, he was the most influential person in my life. 

Often I wonder what would have become of my family and me if he didn't die so young.  Cancer taking his life, leaving my mom at 50 with 5 kids, most of us grown but Marty, he was only 14, too young to lose his dad.

I'll never know if things would have been better or worse if my dad lived.  I do know that we all have lives to live and it's how we chose to live that determines how well we get to live.