Closing the Book

It has been an emotional roller coaster these past weeks as we ready Mom's home for sale. I have fought long and hard to hang onto it, but in the end I honored the wish of my brother to sell.

I won't lie and say it has not been a struggle. It's the only home my boys have ever known for their grandmother, and in many ways it felt like a family home although I never lived there. Our family was a bit nomadic, moving every six years or so. We all thought she was nuts to buy such a big place, but she fought for it and savored every moment.

Mom bought it in 1990 and lived there until her death in 2007. We kept the home as a rental, lovingly caring for it as if she were alive, with a touch of nostalgia I'm sure that maybe a little piece of her was still there. When she was very sick, she once suggested I move in there among all her furnishings so things would stay the same. She wanted a footprint so badly, and to her this house was it.

As I washed windows and put the finishing touches on the place last weekend, I realized she partly got her wish. I think of her often when I'm there, wondering how she would like the new carpet and roof and whether she thought I was as good a judge of tenants as she. In many ways this was the only real place she found happiness, in the community and in her church family that she gave herself as a treat.

My mother was the Elmer's glue of the family traditions I grew up with and those values were passed down. Loyalty above all. Family pride. Sibling devotion. All for One and One for All. She drew the family together with get-togethers to celebrate our uniqueness. That is what the house represents to me: the good bones of a durable, family unit.

I feel her absence more acutely now, and hope not disappointment for not being able to rule the family as passionately as she did. The kids are grown and into their own lives, and I've never been of the ilk to live in their pockets. The downside of a democratic family structure is having to trust that they will circle back and choose to be a part the family unit.

My brother has married and gone his own way. There are fewer and fewer family gatherings where we share the joy of being together and laughing over stories that only my brother can tell, in that wonderful, joyful, ridiculous way a family folklore is told.  I am losing faith that we will have memory-making times ahead, not because a quarrel or family squabble has put us on opposite sides of the fence, but because of choice. He just wandered into another family and settled down.

As I sat on the eve of listing the house and thinking this over, I felt resentful that someone else was dictating the outcome of an investment that was such an important financial piece to my retirement. I felt trapped by doing the right thing for the sake of the relationship. And all of a sudden, what hit me was my biggest fear of what would happen after selling off the last tangible connection to my brother.

I am sincerely happy for his happiness. All I ever hoped for him was to find his life and live it. And yet, and yet, I am sad for the kids and me.

Going to the Dogs

I miss blogging almost as much as not knowing I have become allergic to one of my favorite things in the whole world.

My eyes have been on fire lately. They itch and burn, swell and look bloodshot and glazy. Sometimes they feel so dry they are scratchy and my vision blurrs.  I thought for a while that it was the many hours I am on the computer, or perhaps my poor sleeping habits as a result of stress and age.

I went to the doc a long time ago and he ran all the panel of tests. Everything came back fine and so I headed to an optometrist for glasses, thinking my eyes were strained from several years of neglect. He thought the new glasses would do the trick and recommended rehydrating eye drops sold over the counter.

What I had noticed but had not paid particular attention to was the fact they got better through the mid part of the week and got worse on the weekend.  On Tuesday, my eyes hurt so bad I couldn't take it anymore and went to see a new optometrist who nailed it down with some simple questions.

When did I first notice it? A couple of years ago, subtle at first, getting worse over time.
What was going on at that time? We were living in the city, swimming, working, playing, normal life stuff. What else was new?  We got Sam ...

Oh no. My heart dropped. Quickly I suggested it might be due to the shift to the country with lots of outside work in the grit and dust, a whole new ecology of eye irritants. Maybe all these forest fires, or a food allergy.

Don't worry, she soothed. She explained the time spent around the dogs (weekends, vacations) was triggering a reaction. I don't just spend time with dogs, I'm on the floor with them and let crawl all over me. I cuddle them while watching a movie, and we laugh and chase each other in the yard. We take them with us most everywhere we can.

The optometrist and I talked about general interventions at home, like washing with soap and water after visiting the dogs, changing the pillow cases every night, and training Sam to sleep on the floor. She didn't recommend oral allergy medications because they can dry the eyes, and the over the counter eye drops do the same. So she gave some samples of eye drops which I began using on Tuesday night.

Almost right away, my eyes improved. The orangy redness started to clear up, the puffiness started to recede, the sandpaper scratchiness and glazy film began to disappear. I take Pataday drops for daytime and at night an over the counter drop called Systane. A prescription is on its way! So grateful for the great optometrist at Eyes of Woodland!

It is helping me to know there will be life after allergies, and hell or high water there is room for the dogs.