Shitty diapers And God's Covenant

Dear Hearts,

Burning Bed keeps sticking in my mind like a poisonous centipede. (There are apparently a lot of poisonous species of centipedes that can take something down, like a mouse, four times their weight—good to know.)

But I was running the other day. Definitely the other day.

Not today. Not yesterday. Not Monday. Snow. Snow. Snow. I have not left the house since Monday. We are finally getting the walk-in shower put in for Papa. I digress. But, Gram is in Heaven with Saint JPII and Christ himself.

Christ is like,” I just had to deal with the Romans and Pharisees—you lived with that man your whole life. I got out at 33—you were in it until you were 90!”

I wonder if Gram ever felt angry at Papa? If he shuts off one more light on me the ending will not be good. He makes it so hard not to kill him! I use too much water, I have too many lights on…yes, Arthur.

Hey, Papa! Turn down the fucking heat and save some money!

I love him. I would do anything for him. But, it’s not easy.

I moved out here to not kill myself. To get away from everything that haunted and pursued me. “Taking care” of Papa was a vague idea—but not real. He still drove. He could get his own meals. He did his own laundry. He was okay living alone—but it would be better if I were there. Mutually beneficial.

I wasn’t thinking in color. Taking care of shitty diapers. Picking, literally, his shit up after him. Washing shit stained towels, underwear, and clothes. Changing his cath bag. Taking care of his broken foot and then cath stoma.  Being his primary means of transportation. Taking his mood swings. This is full Technicolor now, baby.

He cannot live alone. Someone has to be here to care for him. That’s me. And, Aunt Faerie. But, I am the one who makes sure he takes his night time pills and takes care of his aches and pains and spills at 10 o’clock at night. I am doing his laundry. Picking disposable diaper detritus out of the washing machine.

 I sound resentful. I am not. It’s just…and I’ll be honest. It’s harder than I thought it would be. I saw two grandparents through this, but I wasn’t doing the primary hands-on care. Mom mostly did that and Dad.

Now, it’s me. He has changed so much since I came here in September. He cannot clean himself anymore. He cannot care for himself anymore. Not the way he should. It gets me out of my head.

Surprisingly, I am still more freaked out by germs in public that a piece of his shit on the floor. I am keeping my bath towels in my room, because he is using them as hand towels.

I really digressed.

I am powerless to protect him from himself. I can’t make him wash his hands. I can “save” water by doing our laundry together. I can sanitize the kitchen and bathroom as much as possible. I can check that his car doesn’t need an oil change.

“You are 2,000 miles from needing one.”

“I am not. You are wrong.”

Turn the car on….”Oh, I thought the mileage was higher.”

I am less modest. I have seen every bit of him and cleaned every inch of him. Routinely, I deal with his cath bag, stoma, and diapers. He will just get over the embarrassment of seeing in a towel or low cut tank top. I still worry about getting in trouble for leaving a light on—but in a less severe way. Sometimes after I drive him somewhere, like drop him off at Aunt Faerie’s, I will drive home in a way he would definitely not approve of. I don’t slow down and jolt to a stop at stop signs. I don’t move over for other cars. But he wanted me to just drive into the middle of a funeral procession the other day.

“Hell, we’ll be here forever!”

“Just hit it [the squirrel]!”

“No! Turn right up here after that right and that right! No, right there!”

Major digression.

Burning Bed is still burning my buttons. Those motherfuckers. I fucking gave them everything I had and they treated me like an expendable fast-food employee who just COULD NOT get the hang of the French fryer. Fuck you. But, see, Burning Bed had been my plan when I came out here. It was my future. I put all my eggs and even those I didn’t yet have into one basket.

But, as I was running the other day a sense of Peace came over me.

Right now, right here I am supposed to be doing this. This, taking care of Papa, is my full-time job. My purpose. I saw a bird above me, just riding the wind effortlessly, wingsoutstretchedd.

“Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? And one of them shall not fall on the ground without the care of your Father. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear ye not therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows.” Matthew 10: 29-31

This is The Path I am on right now. God will reveal the rest in his time.

I never much contemplated the specifics the Heaven or life after death. But, what if I stopped trying so hard “to be happy” and “find my purpose” and rested instead in the knowledge that after death, I will be in the Ultimate Peace and God’s perfect Kingdom. Apparently, Catholics believe that Heaven is a lot like Earth—just without all the bad parts. Cool. I can eat all the pie and smoke all the cigarettes I want!

What if resting in God’s Covenant of the life after this one—actually makes you live more in the moment because you are not worrying every moment about the future. You accept the here and now—the good and the bad…as the Covenant of what is to come is so much fucking greater.

Easier philosophized than done.

Smoke ‘em if ya’ got ‘em. God Bless

In the name of The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; Mother Mary, Saint Brigid; Saint Jude; Saint Therese Lisieux; Saint Ailbhe; Saint Peter; Archangel Michael, and my Guardian Angel, Jed.

Grateful For:

Health

Angel

Family

New bathrooms

Angel

My room

My wolf night light

Cross stitching

ER on Hulu

Faith

Sunshine

Dear Hearts,

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are grey
You'll never know dear, how much I love you
Please don't take my sunshine away

The other night dear, as I lay sleeping
I dreamed I held you in my arms
When I awoke, dear, I was mistaken
And I hung my head and cried

You told me once dear, you really loved me
And no one else dear, could come between
But now you've left me and love another
You have shattered all my dreams

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are grey
You'll never know dear, how much I love you
Please don't take my sunshine away”

Mom sang me this song this morning as I lay dying.

Now, I am racing through the fields of golden “fields of barley” with this Palamino named Buddy. He was apparently was rescued by Mom and Dad too. We have a lot of stories to compare. He actually let them ride him! He let small children ride him!

I said that I had let Mom and Dad ride me a little bit, but basically I was like, “No. I am a former Harness Racing Horse, Rocky, and I will love you unconditionally, but my riding days are over…so, hand over the apples.”

I found my forever home with Mom and Day Almost over 15 years  ago. They saved me from a lonely and depressing fate.

That lady who got rid of me said that I was a “problem horse” and “aggressive.” Only toward her. She just wanted a show-horse pet to impress her friends. She didn’t really love me.

I admit I was a bit overly excited sometimes when Mom when Mom would come out with apples for me and Hadley, my donkey friend. So, I would kind of nip at Mom—but I guess my nips are more than nips to non-horses. She would smack me on the nose.

Whenever she would do that I would be like, “Is that supposed to deter me?” But, I let her think it did—it never hurt. And, then we used to play this awesome game with the fly-spray bottle. I would act like I was afraid of it and run her around the corral until she would stand there and almost cry in desperation, “Oh, Goddamnit, Rocky, just let me spray you.” Sorry, Mom.

I made like I was afraid of the spray bottle. But, I never really was.

I was 32 when I left Mom and Dad this morning. Things hadn’t been good for me for a while. I had really bad arthritis from my racing days. And, I was starting to fall down and black out. It was really hard to get back up.

Look at that! I just rolled on my back, feet high in the air, in mud! This place is just wonderful. I have all the apples, grain, grass, and hay I want. Mom and Dad also kept me on a diet so I wouldn’t get too fat. They did it for my own good and I appreciated it, but now I can eat all day! And run!

I am catching air right now!

Buddy is a good guy. He is showing me all the hills and valleys we can frolic.

I was always treated like a racehorse, which I was bred to be. I thought that was the only way to live until I came to Mom and Dad’s! Then I found out that I could be loved and I loved Mom and Dad back so hard. I got pets, brushes, apples, carrots, fresh hay, water, shelter and so much love, which all that matters anyway. I went from this little closed in stall to being able to stand out in the sleet and snow if I wanted. Mom could never figure out why I did that, but I loved to feel all I could feel. I could gaze at the moon. I could run the corral and then Mom and Dad got me Char, a donkey to keep me company. I was never alone before, so I was kind of depressed. She was my girl—she is here too—eating. Of course.

“Hey, Char!”

I was really sad when Char died. She was my best equine friend. Then Mom and Dad got Hattie, another donkey. I loved her too, but not like Char. Char was my first equine love. Hattie was pretty sick this spring with a fractured leg and she couldn’t leave the stall at all! For weeks! I stood by her side. I love her, too. And, I’m a gentleman.

She sometimes didn’t want to go on, but I said “No, you are not giving up. I will not allow it. If you go, then I go.”

Char would protest—but she knew she could not leave Mom and Dad Equine-less.

I think she played it up a bit with me to get my share of food…but, she was hurting too. She is much better now.

Hattie and I had an agreement. I knew I was not going to be around forever, so the agreement was that she love Mom and Dad twice as hard for the both of us when I was gone. And, I promised Hattie that after I moved on, they would get another companion for her.

WHOOOOO-HOOOOO! I just ran a mile from a dead stop to a dead stop. No pun intended. I love being able to rear up again and whinny and bray! See that fallen tree over there? I am gonna jump it!

“Watch this, Buddy!”

I FEEL GREAT!

But then I look at Mom and Dad and…I don’t feel bad…there are no bad feelings here…but I feel sorry that they are so sad. It’s hard to explain.

Mom laid with me and put her head and on my neck and just cried and cried this morning.

“I never made fun of her singing voice. I loved her voice. It was the sound of love.”

Dad comforted me too. But what Dad said to me stays between me and Dad.

I kept trying to get up…to make it one more day…I just couldn’t. My Spirit was willing, but not my legs…

Anyway, I had a great life with Mom and Dad. God gave me the perfect home. What Mom doesn’t know, especially in the last few years—I was tired and sometimes I just hurt—is that she was the Sunshine of My Life.

I didn’t leave her and Dad—I’m just elsewhere.

All my hurts are healed. There are no flies or ticks here. (They go to a very warm place!) I have all my favorite foods—apples, carrots, even the special mush Mom used to make me. I am free and at peace.

Mom, Dad, just know, that I haven’t let and I never will love another the way I loved you. Hattie, you take care of them, now.

“Hey, Buddy! Look, Buffalo! Let’s chase ‘em! Char, come on!”

 Smoke ‘em if ya’ got ‘em. God Bless

In the name of The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; Mother Mary, Saint Brigid; Saint Jude; Saint Therese Lisieux; Saint Ailbhe; Saint Peter; Archangel Michael, and my Guardian Angel, Jed.

Grateful For:

Faith

Health

Family

Angel

Sleep

Running

Cigarettes

Coffee

Good dentists

Aunt Faerie
Johnny and Gaia being there for Mom and Dad
All my Blessings from God.