The Journey

The news finally broke that Barbara Bush had passed away.  It was not surprising – the press had reported days earlier that she had decided to forgo any more medical intervention and live out her last days on her own terms in her own home.  Even up to a few hours before the announcement there were stories that she was still talking as best she could to well wishers and sipping bourbon waiting for her own inevitable journey.  The news stations already had her obituary reeled cued up – just as I’m sure they have her husband’s ready to go as well when the time comes. 

I started to cry when I heard.  I had always liked her even if I did not agree with her family’s politics.   More than that, it stung because my own mother had passed at age 90 barely six months ago.  I had the sad knowledge of the preparation but knew that everyone who needed to be there was, even if George H. might not have been able to comprehend what was going on. 

I understood how important that last birthday was for both her and George – how it must feel to know that it would be your last one.  

My mother requested a special birthday for her 90^th  and we obliged.  All my brothers and sisters were there – all five of us along with grandchildren and great-grand children who called my mother “G-G” for Great Grandmother.   She ate slowly as Parkinson’s had taken its toll over the last seven years.  Her caregivers were there to wish her well.  As best as we could guess – she knew people were there and she had a great time.  This was the second time in 16 years since my father’s funeral that all five Cody kids had been together.  The time before that had been at my mother’s 89^th birthday – another milestone to celebrate.

 

For years now at Christmas, I made a point of getting our home-movies transferred to a

digital format and putting it on DVD so my mother could watch the memories she had chronicled so lovingly.  I sat with her after both her 89^th and 90^th birthday and we watched the home movies but with songs that I had dropped in like the Jackson 5’s I Want You Back or Johnny Cashes’ I Walk the Line since back then there was no audio to capture.  We stayed up late – past midnight when my kids had gone to bed – to watch my mother’s younger visage pushing strollers as a new mother of a young daughter and a toddler son.  We watched later as my mother and dad were in a financial position to go to Puerto Rico and  Mexico leaving their young brood in the capable hands of our maid Etta.  Going on vacation without your kids?  Unheard of in this age of helicopter parents and yet my parents were married almost 50 years until death did literally do them part when my father passed away in 2002 just a day after his 81^st birthday and months shy of their half century milestone.  There must be something to not being around your kids 24-7 and just being a couple to insure your marriage's longevity.

Barbara and George H. Bush had been married for 73 years when she passed – the longest married presidential couple in history.  Of course, many of our presidents from the previous centuries did not live to see 73 much less have a marriage that lasted so long – but it’s a tribute to Bushes and my parents that they stuck with each other through thick and thin – no matter what.  Back when they were married – getting a divorce was a stigma and literally for better or worse so you had to figure it out.  That’s what made the Greatest Generation great – the ability to focus and not be distracted by an arrant Tweet or Facebook rant.  I remember seeing Betty White on SNL when she hosted. She thanked all the people on Facebook that had campaigned for her to be on the show and then said, “I’ve seen Facebook and frankly it looks like a big waste of time.”  She got a huge laugh from the very people who put her there.

I loved that Barbara took control of her passing – deciding to go into that good night with a few sips of bourbon and her husband nearby even if he probably didn’t understand what was going on.  He, like my mother, is in the end stages of Parkinson’s.  He’ll ask repeatedly where his wife is and there will be the constant painful explanation that she’s gone.  He will seem to comprehend it and then ask again an hour later with no memory of the explanation.  

These are the rituals that the sons and daughters of elderly parents must endure.  My sister Kathy was a rock the whole time my mother was up in Tallahassee after she was diagnosed.  She was the key caretaker for Mom, coordinating healthcare workers, schedules all while at one point battling stage 3 colon cancer (she is now happily cancer free).  Her dedication to my mother was heroic and she took ownership of Mom’s care.  Most of what the rest of us could do seemed inadequate and the responsibility was overwhelming.  I knew because we had taken care of Max’s dad who had suffered a stroke decades before and moved in with us after Max’s mother Joan died of a brain tumor when we had been married less than two years.  He was under our roof, so we had to get up in the middle of the night and help him to the bathroom, eat, bath and shave.  I knew hard it was to see a strong vibrant woman become someone who depended on the kindness of strangers to help her do life’s bare necessities.  She would ask me and Kathy – “I always exercised and took care of myself – how did this happen?”  We’d listen and tell her no one knew why.

I understood how you had to have the same conversation repeatedly and how you learned to hide your frustration because as much as you want to believe that they might be “out of it” they can sense when your nerves were becoming frayed.  George, Max’s dad, could sense that so I learned to try to hide it as best I could. 

I feel for the Bush family because their force of mother nature is no more, and their father can’t comprehend the loss.   At least my father went when he was still in full control of his faculties – it was quick – he sat in his favorite chair fell asleep and basically didn’t wake up.  My mother found him and called the EMTs but by the time they arrived it was too late.  The last time I saw my dad was over the Christmas holidays that year and the last thing I said to him on the phone was “I love you!” so I was lucky that I had no regrets in that department. 

So when we got the call that Mom might have about 48 hours at best, me we hurried down – praying we would get there in time.  We prayed my brother Steve would get there as well by bus from Miami and he did.  We made sure my mother was never alone and were told to watch for changes in her breathing.  Our 24-hour vigils sometimes included calls to come in and see Mom because we were sure this was it – but for many times that weekend – Mom was not ready to go.   She was not really conscious but I think she heard us.   She smiled when we sang her favorite song – “Almost Heaven – West Virginia,” by John Denver.  It was therapeutic to do a sing-along with a young hospice caretaker who probably saw this all the time but still managed to sing without a hint of sorrow – it was more like rejoicing.   My mother smiled with her eyes closed and even tried to mouth some of the words.  

Later that day, I pulled up the recording that we did the night before Danielle was born in 2000 which was a recorded rendition of The Night Before Christmas.  It was my dad, mom, Max and me reading the book and reminiscing with Amber who was four at the time.  It was a joyous time and looking back I was so happy I had captured the sound of that night – we’d have it always.  In fact when my niece and her husband Julio heard it, they couldn’t believe it was her – the voice was so strong and sure – it was the mother I knew.
 

We got Mom’s arrangements in order the day before she passed and it all seemed to surreal. Maybe it was because you had 12 people sleeping in Mom’s house which could only really sleep 4 people comfortably and we were sleep deprived even though we took shifts throughout the night.  I worried how my kids would do seeing their grandmother pass away and being in the room was optional – I was also not sure about my own reaction.  But even as we knew Mom would pass soon, everyone stayed positive – any squabbles that might have been brewing were brushed aside for the sake of my mother which is what she would have wanted.

On day three, it seemed like Mom still had lessons to teach us and she was not ready to yet.  The Sibs had been in such a good place after her birthday that having us spend another day together might have been part of her plan.  As the afternoon wore on- my niece Beth sat by her bed as Max, the girls and I took a walk.  When we got back – we watched a little of the 4^th quarter of the FSU football game which was close but the Noles lost.  My sister Kathy and her husband Sal had gone back to their home to let out the dogs and were about five minutes away.  Beth came out to tell us that Grandma’s breathing had changed and after numerous false alarms this time it seemed like the time had come but Kathy and Sal were not with us.  I prayed she would get back in time.  My mother’s breathing started to falter and still no sign and Kathy and Sal.   Our large group started to filter into the room and I kept an eye out for my kids knowing that they had my blessing not to be there if the spirit did not move them – just being near would be good enough but they stood steadfast with the rest of us. 

I remember the left artery in her neck kept pumping wildly and it seemed rather surreal that she was going.  My mother, my jogging buddy, my mentor, my cheerleader – the person who encouraged me to “write your book,” she was leaving this earth in spirit.  Maybe the mom I’d known had been gone for a while but as she was passing I remembered how warm her hand was as we watched home movies to the beat of “We are Family” by the Pointer Sisters. 

Kathy rushed in and told her to “Go towards the light, Mom!” which I thought was strange because of course that’s where she was going to be with Dad, her older sister Elyse, her baby sister Ruth, her parents, and all her ancestors – they were just waiting on the other side – I was pretty sure if it.   Betty White’s mother once told her, “Death is that great secret and when it’s your time, you’ll finally know the secret.”  It was that pearl of wisdom and oddly enough not a bible verse that gave me comfort.

We called the funeral home to pick Mom up which is another part of the whole funeral business that just seems strange.  While we were waiting, we changed Mom’s clothes, picked out the ones for her to wear for the final journey and we decided to do her make-up.  Not in an over-the-top “Let’s make her look really alive!” way but more as a tribute because my mother would have wanted to feel like she looked nice.  This was another surreal moment as I picked out foundation and eye shadow to put on my mother’s now lifeless face.  I wondered if I would freak out but again this non-sequitur seemed to come and go and my mind somehow grasped it.  It was Sal’s idea to toast Mom before she went into the hearse.  

We all got a drink, for me and Amber who is 21 it was a very light wine cooler while other’s got wine, beer and the younger kids got a soda. We stood around the bed that had been the monument of vigils and toasted my newly deceased mother who was in a new outfit and fresh make-up.  It was very Irish as we told stories about Mom and the funny things she used to do and we laughed together as a family which is what she would have wanted.  My sister Sharon even quipped, “She must have thought – ‘Well the Noles lost again, I might as well go.’” There was laughter but make no mistake there was heartbreak as the reality set in.  The tears flowed in the hours, days, weeks and even months later - which is normal.  Someone who brought you up, nurtured you, hugged you, cheered you on and believed in you when the world didn't was gone - in a better place no longer limited by their physical maladies but gone to you now on this earth plane. The hole in your heart seems gaping but as time goes on it will seem less painful but losses by others can pull it open again. 

The death of another 90 something has triggered these fresh memories – and I feel for the Bush Family – I cry for their loss.  It sucks to lose someone you love but at least she was coherent to the end- making her own decision to die at home like my mother.  That’s a blessing to live 92 years and have the legacy of children, grandchildren and great grandchildren.   I’d like to think that no matter what your political affiliation – you can offer sympathy for a family’s loss  and offer empathy.  These are not empathetic times that’s for sure – but if nothing else, a grand woman’s passing should invoke respect, love and the awe of the gift we call life.   No one’s journey is ever the same but each journey is remarkable and recognizing that should bring us closer as human beings no matter which side of the political spectrum you sit on.

The Sonny Side of Life

The first time the kids and I saw Sonny is was at a shelter called CatNip Cottage.  We were looking for a companion to our tuxedo kitty Skittles who had just lost about 1/3 of his tongue in an accident and was now permanently regulated to being inside.   We felt bad and wanted to find him a companion to make up for the friends he was losing on the outside. 

I had researched places to adopt kitties and found this lovely shelter that had a website where you could look at videos of the cats before you went to adopt them. Sonny’s profile had the headline “Instant Purrer” and in the video you could actually hear him purring.  His on-line bio stated that he had been abandoned with his sister in a box at a stop sign in Alpharetta.  Some volunteers noticed the kittens and brought them to the shelter.  Sonny’s sister was adopted first and he was left there just waiting for a family to love him.

So on that Fourth of July weekend eight years ago, we went to the shelter after selecting him on-line hoping that our hunch would be correct- that this little kitty would be the right match for the cat we had at home.  The woman at the shelter opened the crate and this little black and white cat immediately walked up to Amber and licked her face.  We were smitten and knew immediately he was meant to be part of our family. 

We brought him home and our other cat Skittles was not so sure- he hissed and spat at him.  Sonny took it in stride and didn’t answer back – realizing this other feline was the alpha cat.  We reassured Skittles that he was still our baby and by the end of that Independence Day weekend – they were grooming each other and the best of friends.

Amber finally had a cat who she could put in a baby blanket and hold like an infant.  Sonny would gladly oblige because being loved by his girly bear beat being in a shelter any day.  Skittles realized there was someone who actually liked playing baby-time with Amber and it took the heat off of him. 

As Sonny grew – he got taller than Skittles, but he never forgot the pecking order.  One time I saw them both standing at a door that was closed.  Skittles looked a Sonny who got on his hind legs and tapped the door until it opened – he then waited for Skittles to walk through before he also went inside the room.   It was hilarious and almost a little cartoonish but that was there relationship and Sonny never pressed his size over Skittles.  

Then one day four years later, Skittles started to not feel well and was losing weight.  We tried doing everything we could to help but nothing – even feeding him with eye droppers and making kitten glop seemed to help.  I had just been laid off and we just didn’t have the money to take him to a vet to find out what was wrong.   Sonny stayed by his friend’s side even grooming him because Skittles didn’t have the strength to do it himself.  He was pretty weak and I gave him a bath to make him feel better.  We were posting updates on Facebook and people were sending prayers.  The next morning he was gone.   After we said good-bye to our little cat, our Son-bear would lay down in the spot on the rug in our bathroom where his friend had died.  He often stayed there for hours at a time. 

In the months that passed, Sonny became more serious and not as playful because he

missed his friend.  People like to dismiss animals as not having good memories or not capable of grief but he was grieving.  He visited all the places that his friend used to go in the house to hide from the chaos that two kids can bring about.  He did start to jump up on the chairs or even the table at dinner time and wanted to be part of the conversation.  He wouldn’t try to steal food (at least not most of the time) he just wanted to be included in the conversation.   He would still tolerate baby time with Amber but it was more out of duty then being playful. 

Four months later on New Year’s Eve, we decided that like Skittles, he needed a friend to play with and went to the same shelter were we had adopted Sonny.  This time it was a six month old white kitty named Vanilly who was ironically the last cat to be adopted out of that shelter since they were closing their doors.  We brought him home in a pink pet carrier.  He was afraid to come out of the little box since he had spent almost all of his short life in a shelter not used to the sights and sounds of an actual home.    Sonny was near-by wisely trying not to scare this new-comer who warmed up to him and after a few hours left the security of the carrier and began to investigate things.  He started to play with Sonny who played back but without the vigor he had before Skittles died.  He felt more like the elder statesman and Vanilly was the young brash cat who had a knack for knocking things over and running to Sonny for help.

Many times Sonny felt like more of a dog than a cat.  He’d beg for lettuce even though he was well over 20 pounds.  He would sit on the couch 

and watch TV with Amber or make a hammock under the lining in Danielle’s box spring and hang out there.  He would come when I called and asked him to "see mommy."  On Sunday nights, he’d come upstairs and watch Desperate Housewives with me.  I would actually turn to him and ask if a specific plot point seemed weird – he’d just look at me and meow in agreement.   When DH went off the air, he’d sit and watch The Walking Dead with me, Max and Amber or Breaking Bad with us on Netflix.   More than anything he wanted to be part of what we were doing.   Many a morning, I would wake up to find Sonny at my feet – touching my toes while purring in his sleep.

On Max’s 50^th birthday, Sonny started to choke on a piece of food.  Max was home luckily and gave him the Heimlich maneuver and the food was expelled but for a minute there it seemed too late and Sonny got limp as if he was dead.  Then he came back while Max was holding him.   After that day, he was seemed to be his old playful self, bopping Vanilly on the head, pinning him down and chasing up and down the stairs – all of which Vanilly loved and thanked him by grooming him on the head.  Our best guess was that he was dead in that minute but the angels and Skittles sent him back knowing how heartbroken we would be if he left us. 

Sonny also had a knack for being the center of attention and when I would record my Princess or Ann Coulter videos, he would jump on the chair I would be using with the lights blaring – ready to perform with me.  I’d write parts for him such as The Royal Kitty; Ann Coulter’s Stupid Cat named Stupid and most recently – Sister Mary Cat in a web-series about a rogue Nun who says what she thinks and ends each segment with a chat with her beloved kitty.  It would amaze me how well he would put up with me and the cameras but he seemed to genuinely enjoy it.  And as far as acting partners go, he was one of the best I’ve ever worked with – on-time, hitting his mark and always knew his cues.  He also was not distracted by his cell phone which also helped speed up the production process.  He also looked great on camera.

A few weeks ago while getting ready for a visit from the Vice President and High Holidays at the synagogue where I work, Max called me to tell me that he thought that Sonny we not feeling well.  That morning I had seen that one of the cats had gotten sick on the carpet but didn’t think much of it since Vanilly does that from time to time.  I got home and tried to see what was wrong.  He seemed to be dry hacking and spitting up.  Later that night, he went into the bottom of our master bathroom shower and just wanted to stay there.  I tried to get him to drink but he was not having it.  He had been sick before – in fact when he choked and Max saved him – he was having hard time getting food down.  He spent the night in our bathroom and was purring but not really connecting too much with us.

I woke up that morning and tried once again to get him to eat but he was not interested which for a 20 plus pound cat is not normal.  I asked Amber to keep an eye on him and she said around noon that he still had not moved much.  This time around – we had the money to take him to the vet’s office so I made an appointment that afternoon.  Max picked him up and brought him in a laundry basket because being the big boy he was – we did not have a carrier big enough to bring him.  Max called me and let me know that the exam revealed that he had a blockage in his bladder and that they could unblock it and he should be fine.  I felt a huge sense of relief and moved some money so that we could pay for his care. 

When I got home – he seemed out of it from the procedure so I just figured it was the anesthesia.  I sat down and got him some water which he started to drink and really it felt like we had turned a corner.   That night – he wanted to stay in our bathroom and we brought in his litter box, food and water so everything was in one place.   The next morning he was still groggy but again I figured he was still wiped out from the vet's office.  I brought him into bed and told him how much I loved him.  I got ready for work and asked Amber to keep an eye on him and see if he managed to get something to eat.  We had a case of special food and antibiotics to give him that the doctor had prescribed.

I was in a meeting all morning and when I got out – I called home and Max answered.  I was surprised and wondered if he came home for lunch to see how Sonny was doing.  I asked if he was doing okay – Max paused and said “Sonny passed away about 30 minutes ago.”  I lost my breath and I uttered a very loud “NO!! NO!!” over the phone to the point that a co-worker came in to see what the matter was.  I told her that Sonny had died while trying to keep from completely losing it.   Max told me that Amber had called him after she checked on him and he was not breathing.   He cancelled the rest of his meetings and went home.  He was not sure how to tell me.  I told him I would be home early from work that I could not leave immediately but I would cancel the rest of my appointments as well.  I went into the bathroom and closed the door.  My body shaking because I had just lost a very dear member of the family.  I managed to pull myself together – do the rest of my work and get some checks signed to cover the Vice President’s visit.  I was amazed at how well I was able to function probably because I was still in shock and the reality had not really hit me yet – maybe it was just a colossal mistake and he would be just sleeping when I got home.  Once I was in my car, the tears started to flow and the song “See You Again” played.  I just let it play as the warm salt of my tears flowed down my face.  I got home and asked Max where Sonny was.  “He’s actually in the same place that Skittles died.” 

I went upstairs and saw my sweet little guy – looking like he was asleep but obviously was not.  His pink nose was now gray.   I touched his fur which was still soft but his purr box was silenced.  Max said that he would wait until the kids and I said good-bye and that there was a special place in the garden just for him – next to Skittles and Coogy – a stray baby cat we tried to nurse back to health but who died 10 days after we found her.   I told him how much I loved him and how much I valued his friendship.  I talked about the shows we watched, how wonderful he was to Skittles and Vanilly and how much we were going to miss him.  I had the kids come in to say good-bye.  They talked to him too and petted him – Danielle even got some of the fur and put it in a plastic bag.  I wanted them to see that death could be peaceful and not something to be afraid of. 

I told them how lucky we were to have known him and at least he didn’t suffer for long.  He knew we loved him and that maybe God found a family that needed someone like Sonny to help them and that’s why he was called away from us and back to heaven.  Souls like Sonny are very rare and there is only just so much to go around.   At the point that we had said all our good-byes – Max wrapped him in our best golden towel and buried him under the rose bush in our garden. 

That night I hugged my family a lot tighter.  We sat around saying how on Sunday, Sonny was jumping on the counter, drinking out of the faucet and chasing Vanilly and now on Wednesday night – he was gone.   This one really hit hard.  Skittles had been sick a long time so at the point that he died, it was sad but not unexpected.   We had Coogy just 10 days so while losing one so young was tough – we had only known her 10 days  We had a cat expert tell us that something was wrong – her mother sensed it and left her behind – so there was nothing more we could do for her but love her and make her comfortable.  But Sonny was a huge blow – we just thought we had more time with him.   We tried to do right by him - we had money to get him the medical treatment he needed. The vet assured us that he would be fine in a few days but it was not even 20 hours after the appointment and he was gone. 

In the days that followed, all of us would veer from sad to sobbing to feeling better and then feeling bad that we did not feel worse.  That’s the nature of grief – it’s not consistent and you never know when you’ll go from laughing to crying.  I wondered if Sonny had been living on borrowed time after he nearly choked to death and if God had extended his time with us because we needed to learn more from him.

Some of my greatest teachers have been my pets.  They give you love and understanding and see you as someone worthy even when the world can make you feel lower than pond scum.   They teach you how to love, how to care for something greater than yourself. They teach you that miracles can happen – that animals like my cat in college Gizmo can survive being hit by a car and falling off a third story balcony, that Skittles can survive losing 1/3 of his tongue and that Sonny can get the Heimlich and come back to life.  They teach you that life goes on and while you may swear that you’ll never get another pet and open yourself up to that kind of heartache – the universe sends you another creature to love just as much but without forgetting those blessed pets that came before whose lessons will help you become a better person.

Their greatest gift is to teach us how to deal with their loss so when we lose someone that we truly love and feel that searing pain that brands our hearts which seems impossible to overcome - we've learned there will come a day where you can talk about that person not in sadness but about all the wonderful things they used to do that made you happy, that made you love them and as long as you have that – they are never really gone.  They are as close as that blessed memory.

Yesterday, we were pulling into the parking lot at Target and we saw a little stuffed bear in front of us that looked like it had been left behind by a child.  We put it up on the cart area so that if the person who had lost it came back they would find it.  When we came back 90 minutes later and the bear was still there.  We decided to take it home rather than have someone throw it out.  As I put the little stuffie on the dashboard I realized he was waving to us.  I then started to cry because we used to call Sonny our little bear and as much as some people think the universe is random – this sign was not.  It was Son-Bear saying “Hi- it’s me and I’m fine – tell everyone I said hello and I love them too.”   That seemed a fitting message and wherever possible – I’ll always try to see those little miracles whenever they pop-up.  That was my friend’s greatest lesson - to always look at the Sonny side of life.