Give Your Fuzzy A Present

"Fuzzy is very sad. Fuzzy needs to open a present."

And there it is. Through all the loss and drama my family has experienced during the past few months, leave it to Beatrice to keep it real for Daddy. Both Beatrice and Bryce don't really understand what happened with my Poppa, their grandpa and my Pop, when he died, but Bea realizes he's gone. We've handled it with explanation-light for Bea, although Bryce is still really too young to get it.

They also don't understand my mom's chronic illness and continual health problems, their Nana. They don't know how stressful it was to get Nana from my sister's to us right after I returned from Europe, and then me driving her back home to Oregon so she could reset in her health system while her doctors facilitated some stability. Although with my mom these days it's more like a defective light bulb that constantly flickers off and on, sometimes shiny brightly with radiance, and sometimes going completely dark.

But the girls did feel the stress of their daddy, and that's something I'm going to have to be more sensitive to as they get older and more aware of every nuance to life's pops, buzzes and brain stops.

Any comfort for the chronically ill is always welcomed, and getting mom set up with her iPad and FaceTime so she can see the B-hive any time she wants was critical. I have to continually explain to her how to use the program, but she'll get there. That time to be around any friends and family now is healing, if sadly brief and fleeting. The reality of my dad being gone has all but flattened her to the far side of the universe with a gravity unmatched from the darkest heart of a collapsed star. She's alone in her house now. However, we are working on moving her down to us as soon as feasibly possible.

Fuzzy is Beatrice's little swatch of pink, silky and "fuzzy" Winnie the Pooh comfort that her Auntie Jill made, the Mama's sister. It's her soul food comfort in the form of a blankie; Bryce has her own bigger yellow blankie. Each of us has our own "blankie" of sorts,  some literal or figurative vessel that carries us away and soothes us with a gift of calming joy.

Be thankful for your own well moments of body and spirit, and be sensitive to those loved ones whose very fragility reduces them to motes alighting inside an empty house at dusk. Give them the gift of love and hugs this holiday season; give your fuzzy a present.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Ody and the Wreckers

Call me Ody. And I don't mean the frickin' dog from Garfield. I mean a metaphorical Odysseus caricature of sorts. Ody, the adventurous B-hive daddy who flew to London and then will fly off to Amsterdam for business and maybe a little sightseeing in both locales.

But I wondered if we'd get there. Because the Sirens called us to the cliffs on the way to London where landed in Chicago four hours into the ten-hour flight because the autopilot doesn't work. And to land at Heathrow Airport in London, where low clouds and fog abound like San Francisco from whence we came, the autopilot has to be operational.

Which begs the question: Why wasn't it checked before we left? Or was that what's really wrong?

You never know when you fly these days. But the "what's wrong part" really began prior to this trip when the "Wreckers" came a-callin'. That's similar to "Sirens" from the current book I'm reading by Kevin J. Anderson and Neil Peart called Clockwork Angels, based on Neil's concept album with Rush by the same name. Yes, I called it an album. And it's a really damn good one. (They're all really damn good, though).

Although I haven't gotten to that part of the book yet, based on what I know about them and the song of the same name in Clock Angels, the Wreckers are pirate-like sirens who crash and pillage cargo steam ships in this hybrid Steam Punk sci-fi world.

Hence, the Wreckers.

"All I know is that sometimes you have to be wary
Of a miracle too good to be true
All I know is that sometimes the truth is contrary
Of everything in life you thought you knew
All I know is that sometimes you have to be wary
Because sometimes the target is you."

Yes, the Wreckers came a-callin' last week for sure. With my back against the wall to get ready for my UK/Amsterdam trip, finish some marketing deadlines for the exciting new firm I work for (BraveNewTalent), and finish editing my career management book due out next month (which I'll make sure you'll hear about more soon for sure), my chronically ill mother, still grieving sadly for Pop (we all still are in our own ways), went in the hospital. She's been staying with my sister ever since Pop's memorial, and was supposed to come see us during the holidays, but now everything's gone to hell in a big ugly hand basket.

That's all I can really share about that situation right now, but know that there's been a lot logistically to handle the past few days, not to mention trying to help my extremely fragile mother, who I love, get back on the path of going back home to her medical and friend/church networks, which I had planned on doing weeks after I returned from this trip.

Until the metaphorical Wreckers, that is.

As I sat and waited for my flight to London, which turned out to be a four-hour delay overall, I found myself thankful I would only be away for seven days total instead of seven years that poor old Odysseus was away for in The Odyssey, to then have to return and beat off his wife's slimy suitors.

Oh, how I miss the Mama. We've been together for over 15 years now from the day we met. Nine years since the day we married, which was on the same day we met. And the lovely little B's that came years after…

The Wreckers better look out, because no matter what else happens this week, this Ody's gonna make it back intact.

It's all in the caring now

Caring is emphasized as much as curing.

That's a sentiment that really touched me when I read David Brooks' recent opinion piece titled Death and Budgets from The New York Times, and kind of where I've arrived when it comes to my parents' health, particularly my mother's.

The rest of our family vacation was bittersweet in that regard, my mother still in the throes of a severe Porphyria attack as well as recovering from a stomach surgical procedure, her body an embattled shell of itself, losing its battle to the years of chronic illness, pain and multiple medications.

That's been hard for the entire family, but we've been so focused on the "curing" and her getting her life back by pushing her to take better care of herself, we lost sight somehow of just simple caring for her as she has cared for us all these years.

Moms are supposed to care for there families unconditionally (although I know every family, including my own, who would argue there are always a few conditions), so why don't we do the same for them? There's a point when we just have to stop blaming our loved ones for not taking the best care of themselves and just encourage them and care for them unconditionally (with a few conditions thrown in for good measure).

My mother was in good spirits when we visited last week, especially since her sweet granddaughters were there (no matter how exhausting they were for the Mama and the Daddy -- enough with the fairy godmother dumbstick, please), but she was limited in what she could do physically. Unfortunately I've never seen her look so ill.

But we still had a great time visiting with them, going out to the local parks for strolls and also visiting a wild animal safari park that the B-hive buzzed wildly about. The Oregon coast is really gorgeous and the weather couldn't have been better.

There were a few times, when Mom's strength was there, when she could hold our girls and play with them a little. Dad could do more, but his strength has been sapped as well because of his own physical impairments over the years as well as caring for Mom (which is why it's time to bring them close).

I contrast that with the years my sister had with my parents helping to take care of her two wonderful children, when they were younger and in relatively better health. Years my family will most likely never have with them at this point.

Family dynamics are not always warm and fuzzy, but for those of us who have parents we love, and for those who are parents today, you embrace the all of it.

Sure some folks would say, "You should've had your kids sooner," or, "Your parents should've taken better care of themselves."

Although my dad would retort, "Should'ves and could'ves don't mean shit."

And I agree, because they don't. Only the "now" means anything and how you respond to the now. No, I'm not resentful. Sad, but not resentful. My sister was blessed with those years as I'm blessed with the moments I've gotten of late.

It's all in the caring now. It's all in the caring.

We love you, Mom and Dad.