One of the joys of living in a old neighborhood are the handsome old trees that line the streets. Their branches from opposite sides of the street interlock in a canopy, diffusing light to the passersby on the sidewalks and streets.
What are not diffused are the brood of feral leaves that find their way to my doorstep. I spent nearly an hour raking leaves in the dark. I couldn’t stand looking at them for another day. I didn’t even bother picking them up, I just raked them onto the street for the street sweeper to deal with. I pay my taxes. I’m entitled every now and again.
Grandma and I, Mother’s Day 2006.
Editor’s note. The following is the obituary I wrote for my grandma, who died Sunday, October 14, 2007, two days after her 90th birthday.
Esther Rodriguez Schiveley passed away Sunday, October 14, 2007 at Windsor Gardens Rehabilitation Center of Salinas. She was surrounded by more than 50 family members and friends. Moments after minister Tom Salas read the 46th Psalm, she drew her last breath and went home to be with the Lord. She celebrated her 90th birthday just two days earlier. Continue reading
Editor’s note: the following post is taken from a journal entry from Thursday, Oct. 4, 2007. I previously typed 2005, so the events described happened two days ago, not two years ago.
Tomorrow morning at 10, my family will gather to pray. They will [then] go to my grandmother’s apartment to tell her that they have decided to move her in a nursing home that they have already selected and reserved for her. It’s a formality. A painful formality but a formality. It isn’t a suggestion or a request. It is more along the line of “We regret to inform you,” only without the shield of anonymity. The receiver of the message in this case is indeed known to the messengers.
She won’t last long in the nursing home. My mother said my grandmother’s blood pressure dropped to 83 over 30 earlier today, although her vitals have been very good up to this point. My mom is heartbroken. She does not want to put my grandmother in a home, but she is also physically unable to care for my grandmother at her apartment or to relocate my grandmother to my mother’s home. She can’t lift my grandmother, at least not several times per day. Collectively, the family is tired. My grandmother now requires around-the-clock care for activities she proudly performed herself less than a year ago, in that faraway land before the stroke induced falls trapped her in her body and confined her to her bed and sofa.
When did life get so hard? Continue reading
Filed under Grandma, Salinas