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Random thoughts, inconsistent posting |
 My meandering thoughts |
| It is almost the end of the sweetheart month. Its been a busy month with so many commitments. Since the beginning of the year I've been determined to get my Manuscript edited and ready for publication. I'm torn with the decision to go mainstream or self-publish. There's a part of me that wants the recognition of hard work and a great storyline that comes with the acceptance by a Mainstream publisher. Everything I've read points to the process of getting an agent or just slamming queries out there. I've read there are publishing houses that won't even look at your work if it isn't submitted by an agent. There are so many queries and submissions sent out that publishing houses are strict on what they demand that it makes it almost impossible to get your work seen. All this leads the writers of today to self-publish. If this trend continues, how will it effect the Mainstream publishers? I suspect their piles will diminish. It would be the logical result if more self-published books become just as popular. If this trend seems to work, and the self- publisher works just as hard for him/her own promotion, why would they need the Mainstream publishers? We won't even discuss e-books right now. I've heard that there are publishers who watch the "likes" and reviews of books and then after the author has spent their own time and money promoting, offer to republish under their name. I see that as a reinforcement they think the author is a money maker. This means if the author puts out another novel, they will publish that for them. Its a great confidence builder to have one of these publishing houses pick your novel and maybe a future one to publish for you. However, they are not doing it because they like you and think you are a nice person with a good story. They want a good return on their on their investment. Since the writer has spent their own time and money to promote them self and were relatively successful. They are going to jump on that and ride the wave, so to speak. If a self-published author has had success with their first novel and has another one ready to follow, why would they accept the Mainstream publisher's offer? Is it for ego? Which isn't a bad thing. Everyone wants the medal, cup or place on the shelf of a large book store to feel successful. There isn't anything wrong with it. I'm wondering if a writer is confident in their own success as a self-published author, do they really NEED that on-the-shelf placement to be fulfilled? Wouldn't the fact they were approached be enough? Wouldn't the fact the author worked hard to market the first novel and now those same people who wouldn't even look at your manuscript, are practically begging to take a piece of the author's pie for themselves? All this sounds a little jaded and maybe bitter grapes. Don't get me wrong. I haven't sent my manuscript out with any queries. I haven't applied to any agents either. I'm limited to what I can do as I don't have the money to do what I'd like to do. As soon as I am happy with the edit, I'll contact a writers group I joined. I'm hoping they have some ideas. If all else fails I'll go with the free publishing and do my own word of mouth market plan. I'll use Goodreads to the best of my ability. I have a Facebook authors page listed under Christina Weaver Author. It doesn't have much on it yet except postings from "friends" I don't know how to edit that so I don't have so much junk listed there. I do want as many people to check it out as time goes on but not post all their lives there. I hope to use Amazon to some degree. I have a few friends that said they would buy the book as well as the Book Club that gave it the first read and review. That would be maybe 20 book sold.... Its a start. |
| Life goes on after your father dies. You work and write. I began to get serious about getting published and started to look for companies to send out queries. I also looked at publishing for free. I found Amazon's Creatspace that led me to the Amazon Breakout novel contest. I worked on my pitch as I only had a week before the opening of submissions. While my MS isn't edited or perfect, I still submitted it. |
| Howdy Howdy Howdy! If you've ever been greeted by dad you've heard this expression. Dad raised us the old fashioned way. He ably provided food, clothing and shelter. He laughed often, taught us right from wrong and most important of all taught us about God. By living example he gave us both a moral code and a spiritual guideline. There were the simple rules; don't lie, cheat or steal, don't hurt someone by word or deed, be a responsible citizen and consumer, pick up after yourself, and go to church often. Then there were the intangible rules; explore, try different things, have fun, enjoy all kinds of music, read regularly, and always do our best. Dad welcomed those from different cultures into our lives and helped us appreciate what they brought. That variety encouraged us to try things like Kale (before it was cool), Hot Tamales (not the candy), Kosher Tongue Sandwiches, Licorice Ice-cream, Venison, and Sardines and Crackers. We didn't necessarily all grow up liking those things, and to this day some of us won't eat Liver. He gave us the opportunity to try adventurous foods as the turtle from the Midwest camp swamp, rabbit, quail, artichokes, persimmons, and pomegranates. God, family, country is a familiar quote one does not usually associate with child rearing but is a good description of our upbringing. Dad made sure that we knew who God is and what our relationship with him is intended to be. We were in Sunday school and Church when the doors were open this included driving downtown to Mac Arthur Park where we secured a parking spot for upcoming street meetings. Country didn't mean just being patriotic it meant helping to take care of it. As a family we took scenic drives sometimes just around the area but many times to other branch churches where he often preached. Our house was full of laughter and stories. Some of our memories are sitting around the table eating dessert only to have dad hide his empty dessert plate behind his big hands and say "I'll trade you site unseen" to any child gullible enough to take him up on it. Some of his favorite expressions were 'Ach du lieber', 'the Fact of the matter is', and when he was particularly adamant about making a point he shook his finger and said, 'Now Look-It here!' In his early days of preaching he took the Dale Carnegie course "how to win friends and influence people". It did not, however, change his challenge with certain word pronunciation as in Re NEM ber, and Anaways. Part of child rearing is how to train your children to behave in church. While on the platform, dad had his own unique sign language for communicating his displeasure with his children's behavior. First level of communication was a glare and biting his lower lip. Second level was a finger across the lips indicating silence. The third level was two fingers on the knee moving together and apart indicating you need to separate. And the threat of if he ever had to come off the platform you better run. Dad knew a valuable item when he saw it, he was a dumpster diver before there were dumpsters. For instance, he saw a half a ton Palos Verdes rock on the side of the freeway. With his boom truck he pulled alongside the rock and strapped it to lift it onto the flatbed. As he struggled by himself his boss drove by and saw him. He pulled over and helped dad to maneuver the rock onto the truck. The rock ended up in a prominent place in our back yard. On our move to Grants Pass he tried to take is as a souvenir but it was too heavy for the trailer. Speaking of souvenirs, they took a souvenir from almost every city they lived in. It started with Tina in Portland, Kathy in Los Angeles, Annette in South Pasadena, Carol in Reseda, Susie in Grants Pass, and Greg in Kansas City. As we've gotten older his role in our lives has evolved. He gave moral support in life decisions, he advised in many capacities from daily household maintenance to spiritual questions. He was also known for his microwave cobbler and caramel popcorn. And you've probably all heard him say… Thank you Thank you Thank you Which is what we say to him today. |
Eulogy Roy Albert Buss was born January 8th, 1928 to Derk and Ruby Buss, in Concordia, Kansas. Not long after that, they moved the family to Monroe, WA where Bill and Marie Wager made them welcome and helped Derk get a job. It was at this time that Marie brought Ruby to the Apostolic Faith Church and camp meeting where Ruby received all her experiences. From that time on Roy and his siblings were raised in a home where his mother made sure her children learned about God. The family moved to Dallas, Oregon attending church there. later moving to Portland where he graduated from Benson Polytechnic High School. Around that time Roy gave his heart to the Lord and soon began his service as a worker in the church by participating in the street meeting outreach. This was just the start of lifelong ministry. On September 10th, 1949 he married the cute little red head he fell in love with, Dorothy Jean Robinson. From early in his working life God allowed Roy to be under the tutelage of master craftsman in many aspects of the construction trade to hone his skills. He started by caring hod for brother Newt Lesher. he learned how to make cabinets, furniture, read blue prints, paint, wallpaper, build a house including Sheetrock. He was a "Jack of All Trades, Master of None". Roy would say. He gave God all the Glory" for any job he did. As God gave him different opportunities to learn many crafts God always made sure Roy could take care of his family. Once when he lost his job in Los Angeles he was soon given a union job becoming an operating engineer. This job once almost cost him his life when a boom hit an electrical wire but, God spared him. His dedication and love for sharing the gospel grew with the Sunday School work. After moving to Los Angeles, California in the early 50's he became a Sunday School teacher. When he became the Sunday School Superintendent his passion and enthusiasm soon had the attendance booming. The children worked very hard to win the rewards Roy used to promote memory work, participation, and attendance. In his 30's Roy was called to preach. His sermons started with a text, then a Bible application and how it related to us in our everyday life and it's challenges. His sermons encouraged one and all during the week. God blessed Roy's calling showing him in many ways how the Bible truths are applied in the things he did. As an example, when the Pastor would call on him to preach unexpectedly Roy would say "I know, God gave me a message this afternoon." He kept a Bible in the truck glove compartment. In 1964 he was asked to move with his family to Grants Pass, Oregon to be the assistant pastor. He served there for four years before being asked to move his family to Kansas City, Missouri. In 1973 the family moved to Winfield Kansas where he pastored for 3 years. Then in 1976 he returned to Portland, Oregon where began working for the church and also doing small jobs for church folk. During Roy's years of working for the church he was privileged to serve in many capacities such as making desks and other furniture for the church office and pastor's office in the new church. He also made deliveries to new church construction projects up and down the west coast and throughout the Midwest. With each new church that was built across the United States, including Denver, St. Louis, Chicago, Medford, Richmond, CA, and Los Angeles, he would serve in some capacity. From each place he went away more blessed than those who remained. Roy and Jean were blessed with a quiver full of children that Jean had prayed for. There were 6 children, Christina, Kathy, Annette, Carol, Susan, and Gregory. His Sunday school work was not over and he was asked to be the Superintendent in Portland as well. On a more personal side his love of the outdoors was combined with his love of the Lord when he became president of the A.F. Sportsman's Club. He was blessed with the ability to travel to Korea three times as a missionary. He attended meetings in several locations and preached. When he returned and shared stories of his journeys the most memorable points where about the foods he ate, specifically the spicy Kim-chi and the sweet persimmons. In Portland part of his ministry became prison and corrections work. He brought hope to those incarcerated. He visited the Donald E. Long Juvenile Detention Home where he ministered to the young people in a loving and non-judgmental way. He retired from his work and eventually moved to Otis, Oregon to do what he loved: fishing, crabbing and clamming. He joined the Oregon Bass and Pan Fish club where he attended monthly meetings. Four years ago he was diagnosed with Esophageal Cancer. After treatment the doctors gave him 6 to 9 weeks to live. Weeks after this diagnosis he attended camp meeting and was prayed for. He immediately began to improve. In December the doctor saw his new scans but refused to admit he had been healed. We all knew long before this that God had worked a miracle in his life. In the last four years he spent time with his family and friends. Enjoying his grandchildren and perfecting his skill in word search books. In the last weeks of his life his health rapidly declined and it was discovered that he had Leukemia as well as another type of cancer. On his death chair he excitedly ministered to all those that visited. He was ready and looking forward to his Heavenly home. The reading written by his children |
| Monday Dad didn't feel like getting out of bed. I went over to the house after work and sat with him. He wanted to tell me that he was seeing some changes in my sister. He was pleased. We talked for a while then he had a fishing buddy and the new pastor of the Dallas, Or church stopped by. They must have talked for an hour or so. Sue got him ready for bed, I said good by and went home. Tuesday, I got to work yesterday and didn't hear much until around noon from my sister who is the caregiver for my father. I then got a call from her telling me he'd bee up and in his chair waiting for visitors. A couple hours later she said he was back in bed, restless. By three o'clock I got a text, the Dr. and Hospice nurse was there and he was hours from dying. WHAT??!! He was fine last night. I got another call, a few minutes later, to stop and pick up my brother-in-law. I rushed home, we grabbed some hymnals I had and was on our way to the folk's house. Another call, "Where are you? It won't be long!!" How could he go from being ready to talk to visitors to leaving this world? He was. Brad and I got there around 5:25 or so and joined the rest of the family in his room. His eyes were partially closed and he looked at me when I touched him and said I was there. He looked up an my brother in law standing to my left but I think he was looking for my husband Paul who had to go out of town. We settled in and sang a songs. About 6:10 my younger sister sitting next to him said, "Dad we're all here,(she named us all) you can go now." He raised his hand a little and again as we sang more songs. At 6:21 my sister said he was gone. So peaceful. Just like always, when he wanted to go home, he got up, said good bye and hurried mom out to the car. He was anxious to get back to the beach house. Here he was anxious to meet his Savior. I sit here, and I feel the emotion. Not the crying for him or me, but that feeling the Spirit gives you when you've just witnessed a beautiful event. Now as we plan the funeral I see the fun things he loved, his humor in every situation. We are planning to wear a red Gerbera in his honor. One because it was a favorite flower and two because he had cancer. I know this may seem odd, but when I watched the movie Calandar Girls and they wore a yellow flower in honor of the one woman's husband who died of cancer, I loved the look and the sentiment. I've ordered a single flower to be worn by each member of the family and the pall bearers. The Pall bearers are two of the Sons-in-law (the third won't be able to be there) the two oldest grandsons and the two remaining Buss nephews. We have a wonderful family. One of my cousin's on my mother's side has indicated she wants to come for the funeral. I love all the Facebook posts from friend, family, and those who have known my dad and posted their memories. He was well loved for his nonjudgmental way of offering comfort and advice. As a minister and pastor his sermons have touched and remained in the minds of many. That is the mark of a sermon sent from God. Dad was truly chosen to preach. As a young minister God always prompted him when he was going to be asked to preach. The Pastor would call and my dad said, "I know." The Pastor many times would try to catch him unprepared but waiting to the last minute to tell him. Once they were in service and Dad was sure he was to preach that night but no call or indication from the Pastor. On their way up the back steps to the platform, Bro. Norman said, "Roy, you're on." Dad smiled, held up his Bible and said, "I know." When the Lord gave him a sermon, someone listening was meant to hear it. However my dad was not an eloquent speaker, far from it. A retired English teacher in our church was asked to give speaking lessons to all the new ministers. At the end of their sermons, before they went home, she would slip them a note with things they needed to work on. Dad shared the note with us on our way home. That gave me an idea. I must have been around eight or so. I began to sit dead center, second row of the church and I wrote every AH-UM and mispronounced word he spoke. I gave him my list after church on the way home. His comment was, "At least she's listening." I'm not a speaker, though with preparation I'm not bad. I took Toastmasters class and loved it. I guess I am my father's daughter. This is enough thought for today as I need to get ready to pick up my sister to go to the funeral home and make arrangements. Tina Weaver ** Image ID #1634119 Unavailable ** |
| Here we are the beginning of another week. You wouldn't think the man was dying unless you ask him. Saturday, I had a hair appointment then went over to Dad and Mom's to pick up my sister, Sue. We had plans to drive to the parent's house at the coast and bring back more things they needed. They had 3 lists. My Mom, for some reason thinks we are going to get rid of her stuff and not tell her. Even if we did she wouldn't remember as she has so much stuff there. (I think the next trip we'll bring the 2nd set of dishes she uses as a back up) Sue asked Mom where the lists and information was she left on the table to take today. Mom says, "I'm going there." "Today?" I ask. "No." "Then we need to get everything and get going." Sue takes the paper she need with the info to return the cable store and off we go. Two or so hours later we make the turn to the road that takes us to the folks house, I ask, "Sue you do have the keys." There was a shocked look and she said 'NO." Mom took them and I didn't get them back!!!" We asked the neighbor if she had a spare set my mother might have given her. No, she didn't. So we called Sister #2 and Kathy, bless her heart, drove to the coast and brought the keys. Sue (Sister #4) and I went to Dory Cove for Chowder and crab Louie. I was a little disappointed they used bottled Thousand Island dressing or at least it tasted the same. I am very partial to mom's Louie dressing. Kathy arrived just as we got back to the house and they took off to return the cable stuff while I tried to make heads and tails out of the three lists that had duplicate items and things they already had. Dad said he wanted his "cars" to look at. They are miniature cars and trucks he had on a shelf. I'm not sure why but we brought them. After the car was packed, I'd taken the back two seat out for more room, we were ready to head back. We got home around 11pm or so. They were all excited to see the stuff we brought and put it all in the garage. They can unpack it when they have time. Sunday morning the entire service was entirely on heaven. Wanting to go there, getting ready to get there and the last special was Find us faithful. Its about the Christian Legacy we leave behind when we are gone. " Oh may all who come behind us find us faithful May the fire of our devotion light their way May the footprints that we leave Lead them to believe And the lives we live inspire them to obey Oh may all who come behind us find us faithful" This truly is the legacy my father has given to his children. Tina Weaver ** Image ID #1634119 Unavailable ** |
| Written in response to a newsletter In response to your statement. I grew up in a very narrow minded Christian organization. I rebelled as a teen and still chose to be a Christian in my early twenties. Thank God for his grace because I had a lot to learn. I thank God for giving me a tender heart toward wanting the truth. I had the foundation (doctrine) but the rest seemed conflicting at times. As I struggled through my thirties and forties I found bits of the true light revealed to me in ways that surprised me. I found that tradition changes. How my parents and their parents acted and reacted to the "rules" of the church were no longer "rules" but guidelines. I discovered that God reveals his ways to us as we seek to know him. I'm sure you have acquaintances you meet or see around but if they asked if you were a friend they might say no. We speak but we aren't friends. Sometimes God sees us the same way. He'd like to be our friend and even closer a confidant, but if we don't believe he exists or that he is the Almighty, what can he do? When all the things he does for others aren't enough to cause some seed of belief he's left outside people's lives. My father is just days away from dying. Four years ago he was given 3-6 weeks to live and God healed him of esophageal cancer. We'd said our good-byes then rejoiced these last years. We knew they wouldn't last forever but every year was a blessing. In just 3 short weeks he's gone from walking around and working to almost dead. I've had to renew my faith in God's plan. I've been singing an old Southern Gospel song "Trying to get a Glimpse." It talks about standing on the shore waiting for the boatman to come to take one to the other shore. Across the river of death but there on the other side is the promised homeland and we all want just a glimpse of Heaven. I have that hope. I'm not sad as I watch my father wait for his boat. I pray there will be no pain. I pray he goes quickly and quietly in his sleep. Last night as I left I said, "Dad if I don't speak to you down here I know you'll be waiting up there for me." He smiled and said, "Yes, I'll be there right after I see Jesus." he had tears in his eyes. What comfort. What hope. How does one explain color to the blind? How does one try to show that even if you can't hold it in the hand its real? As real as passing your hand passing your hand through a vapor and getting your palm wet. If I pray and get an answer, either yes, no or wait. I'm confident its the right answer. Consequence? maybe if that's all you had, but what about the inner strength and comfort that consequence can't give? When I'm sad and alone and need a hug? I can feel the presence of something there that calms my fears, eases the anxiety and gives me peace where there was none? Can consequence be trusted to be there? I'd rather know someone hears and answers than to rely on being at the right place at the right time. Like winning the lottery. That brings me a thought. I'd hope to win the lottery if I bought a ticket. I certainly wouldn't expect to win it. I expect(verb) to go to heaven it is my hope (verb) or trust is that I have done what God has required of me, salvation through his blood and I continue to live a life that is wholly and acceptable to the expectations he's has for me. I don't put my expectations on those who have not had the training I have. I do however expect that same dedication to others who have had the knowledge I have. If you were born in the USA and went to school, you were taught the laws of the road and the land. At no time can you stand before a judge and expect to say "I never knew j-waking was breaking the law." or driving through a red light would get me a ticket. Some things we learn at home as a child. There is no excuse. (even if people go to court and win, it doesn't make it right) Every one is told about what is right and wrong. That there is a heaven to gain and a hell to shun. What a person does with that knowledge is up to them. God cannot and will not go against man's free will. If a person refuses to believe, He will continue to call them until they do something that is against the Holy Spirit and then he will not call again. That person is lost with no chance of redemption. When one has no spirit calling them, they will not change their mind anyway. I can hear the up roar. What? If a person even entertains the thought there might be a God, he's still calling, waiting for some move toward Him. Once the line is crossed that is it. What a sad state of affairs. This world is at a place where the door of opportunity is almost closed. I and others are seeing the last of the set up for the tribulation to take place. All the elements in Revelation have been pretty much fulfilled. I don't believe in selling out and sitting on a mountain to wait. I want others to know they need to think about making that choice before it's too late. Once those who have been redeemed are spirited out of this world, the chaos that it will cause will set in motion a series of events that those who knew but didn't make the decision, will be so fearful they may even try to commit suicide but it won't be possible. I don't know how but they won't die. I have loved ones who know but have not chosen to change. At this time of my father's impending death, I hope some will come to a crossroad where they make the right decision. I know Dad wants to see them as much as I will. Tina Weaver ** Image ID #1634119 Unavailable ** |
| A lot has happened since last Thursday. Da'd was admitted to the hospital and went through a battery of tests. He wasn't doing well and on sat my Susie, my sister, called to say he has cancer in his lymph nodes and leukemia. That wasn't good news. Dad has elected not to have any treatment and wears a DNR bracelet. (Do Not Recesitate) A number of the ministers have been to visit and Sunday he at a little but nothing he has to chew. On Monday we got a more definitive answer. He has just days to live. I would say it is possible he could last through the weekend but nothing is for sure. The cancer has spread through his abdomin, chest and pelvis, which is probably why his legs didn't want to work. The leukemia is spreading also. What we know is he has no pain as of now and will be brought home to die there. My brother Greg is coming right away inhopes he sees him before Dad's gone. My sister, Carol had him at her house for 2 months and she is facing surgery so won't be able to come to the funeral. Lani, my daughter had them at her house for a night or so and will try to be here for the funeral. As I've said before his death will hit me at some point. Right now I am just glad he isn't in pain and is comfortable. I have started this year with a bang. I've submitted to two contests, reviewed 3-4 pieces and am working on a piece for another contest. I'm not sure its good, but we'll see how it goes. I will get my novel sent to my friend for editing then I need to find a group to help me with the submitting to publisher process. I know the process may be long an there may be many rejections, but I'lljust keep plugging along. If at some point the timing for this story isn't right and not because its a badly written story, I may think about self-publishing. I don't want to do it but I'd love to have it out there to see what the reaction is in the public sector. |
| Happy New Year 2014! I've said it and written it a number of times and it seems odd to write that number. I remember the song that starts, "In the year 2525, if man is still alive..." I laughed and thought, 'No Way" The lord will have come by then and I won't be around even half that time.' Here I am in beautiful Redmond, Oregon. My boss' house had a water line break a few times due the extreme cold weather and for weeks (2-3) water completely flooded the crawl space and the main floor. My wonderful, talented husband, who is their resident, on call maintenance man (former award winning home builder in MN) is now, along with my favorite cousin, crawling under the house to remove the duct work. Others are scraping the foam insulation that is too saturated to leave on. I am working from the second floor office. Ariel my dog is at my feet. Right now life is good. Ah! I forgot my espresso at my right hand. Just a floor down I can make more. That being said, at the back of my mind is the state of my father. He and my mother arrived from their home (2 hrs away at the coast) to stay at my house. His health took a nose. We are pretty sure he has a slight stroke as his right leg won't hold weight or work very well. He had been able to get up and walk on Sat, but when we returned from packing their immediate needs to move to their apartment he hasn't moved much off the couch. He sleeps or at least he has his eyes closed but answers. When Wheel of Fortune was over and I asked mom if there was something else on. He pipes up Jeopordy. So we watched Jeopordy. Since I don't have good bathing facilities on the main floor, we moved them to their apartment. My sister, is their primary care giver and is going to their place every day to check on them, fix them their meals and monitor dad. Confident in her care, I took off with the men to this beautiful home that has been nuded and now has to have a DNC, repacked with new foam insulation, new flooring and carpet. |
| Another year has passed and so much happened. What started out as a year of prospect and hope has turned into one of struggle, worry and disappointment. that sounds terrible if it weren't for the interspersed moments of happiness and success. After having foot surgery 12/26/2012 I sat most of January 2013 with my foot elevated. During this time I wrote! I edited and watched the Jodi Arias trial every day. By the time I went back to work I had the first draft completed and was thoroughly addicted to the JA trial. By June when the verdict of guilty was read I had a fist pump and almost yelled at work. Our boss (whose house we were renting after he moved to Los Angeles) decided to sell his house. He put it on the market and we began to hunt for a new place. We finally found one and moved the first of May. What a job that was and all summer it was an adjustment as Paul was on the road working and it was just me trying to get through it. We made it. Then came the summer months that included managing the Memorial Day picnic at our church for 300+ people and then cooking breakfast each morning for two weeks in July for our campmeeting. I love doing this. After the summer ended, the old building was torn down and a new restaurant construction began. In September the group met to plan for our annual Christmas on the Campgrounds and by the end of October we were stringing lights where we could. I flew to Minnesota to celebrate my daughter's 40th birthday and my son flew out to visit for Thanksgiving. The lighting project continued until 12/8 when we flipped on the lights and it was beautiful. My parents came home from visiting my sister in Aitken, MN for two months. Just before they left my dad went to his doctor for a checkup and they were gone. Letters were mailed from the doctor's office but their mail was collected and only bills were opened and dealt with. When they returned we knew something was wrong. They drove the two hours to their home and mom began reading the mail. From the doctor's office they read dad was diagnosed with stage 3 kidney failure. Dad was weak and they made a doctor's appointment for him but couldn't get in until 12/26. December 22 my niece got married. My father was the officiant. They put a stool for him to sit on as he married them. By the time he was finished he was spent and just managed to keep it together for a bit of the reception and came back to my house. Here is the problem. For years they had a room at my sister's apartment. When they came into town for doctors appointments and things they stayed with her. In the spring mom decided she wanted to move back to Portland and talked to a friend to agreed to turn a garage into another apartment. There is one over the garage already rented to a friend. The man said he'd have it ready by July, but he hadn't even got his tools and things out of it by then. He began to actually do the remodel in September and I saw it in probably October or November and it was progressing. Slowly. In the mean time my sister took possession of their room. Had all their stuff stored at my other sister's garage. Now they have returned in December and they have no place to stay for the wedding and until the doctor's appointment. The Saturday they traveled, Paul and I cleaned out the front "parlor." A room that served as a bar area for the previous owners now became a storage area for anything we didn't know what to do with. We rolled out the rug and brought their bed over from my sisters. I found the little round table and cloth to set in the corner with a lamp. The chair we had in the family room corner was moved to make room for the Christmas tree sat in a corner with some other chairs we use for guests at the Dining Room table. They were so please to see the cute room. I don't have a divider to give them privacy but its ok for now. Dad slipped down hill physically like he was on the fast track to heaven. When he got to my house Saturday he was unstable but able to walk with a cane. By Monday we had my sister bring her walker over. His legs wouldn't hold him just to wash and brush his teeth. He slipped to the floor and I had to pull him up and set him on one of my rolling kitchen chairs. Thursday his legs gave out trying to get him out the door to the doctor's appointment. Of course they just did a lot of tests and sent him home. We three girls decided it was time the parents moved into town and I made a call to see when the apartment would be done. I was told not for another two months. I called the owner and told him we didn't have two months. They needed something now. I only have a powder room on the main floor and dad could never make it up or down the stairs to the bathroom. After a couple of calls back and forth he asked there were any apartments available that our church owned. I called and there was one. I called the man back and he told me to get it and move them there he would pay for the apartment until his was ready for them. What a blessing! I can't tell you the relief that was. He loves my parents and is willing to pay the rent. I don't care how long it take now. I don't think my dad will be moving but mom wants that little place and she is picking all the stuff for it. It is also just below another friend who will watch over her during the day and probably get her out more than she is doing now. Saturday, my sister came to stay with our dad while mom and my other sister, her husband and brother-in-law all drove to the coast. We packed what they would need for the present and we'll come back another weekend to move other things. Mom just can't let go of things. Now I know were I get that from. We move them in on the first of Jan. In the last day or so dad has failed even more. Saturday he stood and walked around to keep his legs strong. Sunday he couldn't move. He slipped down that morning and I pulled him back up and on to the chair. My sister brought over her wheel chair and now that is how he gets to the couch, to the bathroom and bed. His legs are just too weak to hold his body. I think he's finally given up. He knows mom will be ok. We'll see she is taken care of and he knows the owner of the little apartment will make the rent within her budget. Today 12/30 they go for MRI and x-rays. I don't know what they are going to tell us, but I just hope he slips quietly away in his sleep. Whether its at my house or the apartment it doesn't matter. He sleeps most of the day sitting on the couch with the TV on. Dad will be 86 Jan 8 if he lives that long. Mom will be 86 at the end of March. |
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She is a great woman and so kind to me.