Tag Archives: grandmother

Miracles of Life & Death 2: Waiting

July 31, 2011   Krista Moore   1 Comment

Nobody can control life or death. But we can try. We can will certain things into being, just as we can will certain things out. But we can’t control everything. Like timing.

I remember planning for my daughter’s birth. I had planned and envisioned many things, wrote them down. I had dreamed of a new way of giving birth:  I wanted to give birth at home, with midwives, and I even thought I may want a water birth (though I wasn’t sure).  My son was born in a hospital the usual way. I was young and inexperienced, and it was the right way for me at the time. He was healthy and strong, and all was well. This time, I wanted the freedom of roaming my own gardens, relaxing by the big maple tree outside, being with the dogs and family, and just being at peace with everything.

I got exactly what I wanted. Except the time. As most pregnant women who are in a hurry to get to the finish line, I waited and waited. I wrote down braxton hicks contractions. I formulated charts to predict when this baby was coming. I imagined the date it would happen and wrote it in my calendar.  I had it all figured out. Except this baby was not coming!

The midwives arrived one night when I was sure “this was it”. We gathered in my room and began the procedures. I walked the floor and talked. I soaked. I lounged. I did everything I was supposed to do. Nothing happened. Everybody went home.

The next day I slept in. I lounged by the tree, just as I had imagined. The irises were in full bloom and the dog was sleeping at my knee. I was in full bloom too!  The day went on and the contractions increased. Everybody came back. Everybody waited outside on the deck. My son, who was now 5 was still in school. By 5 o’clock, the grandparents went for a walk to go get him and take him to the park. In that span of 15 minutes, Heather was born. When they returned, they had a granddaughter and sister they had never seen before.

Ironically, she was born June 11, 9 months after 9/11.

The same holds true for death. (I have many stories to tell about this, and I will get to it.) But for now, my grandmother waits in the hospital, counting her days. She is holding out for her own “birthday” so to speak.  She has her ideas, hopes and fears like everyone else.  Others wait by her side counting as well. Hoping she will pull through, or hoping she will go in peace. Whatever she wants, she will get it. Just differently.

I only hope that in the waiting, the miracle of living comes first. And in that  is all time.

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Miracles of Life & Death 1: Preparation

July 26, 2011   Krista Moore   2 Comments

Today I am writing because I want to prepare. I want to prepare for my grandmother, who has just announced that she is ready to go and will no longer take her meds. (She is prepared.) And I want to prepare for the radio show which I will be on in about an hour and a half. Copious notes and preparation are my steadfast friends. And then I let go…

Much with life and death, preparation is the key to everything. How do we prepare? As I learned with Actors Exercises for Everybody, you learn to be with yourself first.

You learn to accept your own feelings, dread, fear, mistakes. You learn to sink deeper than you ever have before. You shed a tear. Or two. Or more. You let go. Of the confines of space, of time, of expectation, of wandering. You let go of other people’s opinions, fears, expectations and bothering.  You let go of the voice which tells you that you have to.  You let go of convention - shoulda, woulda and coulda, too.

You learn to be here.

It’s ironic that we have to learn to “be here” while others are choosing to depart. But it’s true. We have a mission to detect. We can’t afford to miss a day on the job. And by that I don’t mean the 9 to 5. I’m taking about the reason we are here. Each person’s reason is different, unique. And each person’s time will be different too.  We have to respect when it’s someone’s time to go.

Part of my learning and preparation has been to enjoy the good stuff while it’s happening. Our last visit to my grandmother was a joy. I brought the kids. We did not dwell on “why” we were there – that she was sick, or weak. Instead, we focused on her joy in seeing my son and daughter; in giving her the opportunity to hear him play his guitar right there in her hospital room; and in allowing the kids some fun at the relative’s playing pool and swimming in the lake (chasing off garter snakes!). A time they will never forget. Along with her.

[slideshow]

How do I learn to “be here”, to prepare?  I take a walk. I take a break. I breathe a little deeper than I’m willing to. I go somewhere. Like California. I come back and re-group. I connect. I ask myself questions and go a little deeper than before. I delight in what I know so far, and I enjoy the journey. I don’t live in the future anymore, or the past.

What I love about death is that it brings everything into focus. What is not important fades, and what is still vital remains. That is all we need to remember, and all we need to go on.

I love my grandmother. I will always cherish her and keep her safe. She has given me so much – stories to tell, mysteries to solve and puzzle over, people to build a bridge with. I will miss her voice. I will miss asking her questions. I will write everything. Nothing will be lost. Not while I live. And, even after that.

P.S. I think I am ready now. There is nothing more to do but wait. And live. And talk. And write. Everything I prepared is there. And then, I let go. To the moment, to whatever lives, whatever asks to be said. Whatever asks to be born.

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“Miracles of Life & Death” New Series

July 25, 2011   Krista Moore   No comments

I’ll admit: ”life sucks.” Sometimes. We can pretend that it doesn’t bother us, work around certain bothersome situations. But there are moments, times, days, even years for some, where it doesn’t seem to get better. That is not how I feel right now. But I’ve been there. I have faced down death in its myriad forms and come back to Life.

This theme was suggested to me after a visit to my grandmother in the hospital last weekend. Some of you know I have been visiting and writing about her a lot lately (see Let Sleeping Lions Lie & Keeper of the Flame).  She is 93. That is no big feat, she’ll tell you  – I’ve had great grandmothers and grandfathers who have lived two or three months shy of 99.  My grandmother believes there is a time appointed for our birth and a time appointed for our death*, and no one can escape this.

*“To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance.”  Ecc. 3:1-4

She would also grin and nod to Bettie Davis:

“Getting old ain’t for sissies.”  

Why am I writing about life and death? Because I want to see what I think. That’s write. I learn by hand. For me, writing is an education. It’s not all sunshine and lollipops. I am here to right the truth, not make everybody comfortable.

I also believe this subject touches us all. It’s what lies at the heart of all our thoughts and actions.  We may not know it, but the fear of death drives our behavior and deepest desires.

Learning how to handle it, see it differently, is the true liberator.

I put “Life” before death in the title of this new series because that is the purpose of my blog. Mentioning death does not make me an advocate. Fearing it is what brought me to this new understanding.  Overcoming it is what compelled me to share my story.

Miracles deny death. They evolve us and grow us beyond “the counting game.”

Miracles are the ultimate turn-around.

P.S. I realized later that I reversed the words “right” and “write” twice in the above post. I decided to leave it. Maybe it has some meaning that will come. In the meantime, “Life is Good”. ;)

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Day 8: Keeper of the Flame

May 27, 2011   Krista Moore   2 Comments

I am back from Kingston, home of my birth, and feeling quite reflective on what I found there…  Not only did I find my grandmother in a new hospital by the lake, doing relatively well (see Let Sleeping Lions Lie);  I found myself with my mother, and countless photos and letters dug up among boxes and boxes of stuff in my grandmother’s sun-porch…

Nanna's sunporch

In these boxes, we found my great-great grandparents Lawrence E. Moore and Emma Belle Deacon staring out from their front porch rockers in Haileybury…

Lawrence and Emma Moore on the front porch in Haileybury 1920s

and their seven daughters (my great aunts), girls and women in tranquil Georgian-style dresses lounging on the front swing with flowers in their hair, or leaning with snowshoes and warm-mittened hands against the family’s seemingly chicken-wired fence;  my gr-great grandmother Emma standing solidly with her youngest one wrapped around her skirt, she looking quite tired but still strong in the heat of days… and another where she smiles brightly to camera, which delighted me beyond measure.

Moore Women in Cobalt

These are the Moores I had always wanted to know, to play cards with at the dining room table (which is now in my mother’s dining room); to tell stories with, laugh with…   I see Emma playing the  mouth organ (which is now in my grandmother’s hall closet); I hear their old Irish twang and crazy war-time songs (I shall never repeat them here - we were Protestant Northern Irish, if that says enough).

Moore women at dining table

Emma Moore playing the mouth organ

I feel like I know these women. I am bonded to them.  I am proud to be one of them. I see myself in their tall languid frames, the way they held their hands, tilted their heads, played up to camera. The Moore Women.

I am a part of a long, and timeless heritage of strength and self-assurance. Of continuity. Of beauty. And of rebuilding. Death after death has taken them. But their faces tell me another story; they are still here, in my blood and in those whom I love now.

My grandmother had protected and shielded these treasures for years and years. She didn’t have the heart to go through them, or dispose of anything. I’m glad she didn’t. I’m glad I had the opportunity with my mother to get on my hands and knees and know this family I inherited.

The details won’t matter so much. The garbage bins will go out; the trinkets will disappear. But their eyes, their hands, their laughter and their tears will never go out in me.

I am blessed to be here, the Keeper of the Flame.

Me in my red boots in Nanna's backyard

P.S. I will be posting more family finds in my other blog, That’s Relative!..    Thank you for visiting.

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Day 7: Waiting

May 24, 2011   Krista Moore   1 Comment

I thought I would be writing from Kingston today, the City of My Birth (more on that later). But I am still here, waiting for  my mother to come pick me up. We are going together to see my grandmother who is 93 (more in That’s Relative!)  Jeez, it seems I’m sending you everywhere today but here. HERE. HERE. HERE.

No, I am not proselytizing, but it did occur to me that this might be my lesson, my miracle, for the day. Waiting.

God, I hate waiting. Don’t you? I am a restless sort, and unless I am given to, in fact choosing to be downright lazy, waiting drives me crazy!

So, what’s the good that can come from it?  Well… today instead of preparing as I should for my mini-trip, I got up, did some quick work (more on that too, but I will try not to tease you anymore:), and in my angst went shopping. Yesterday (there I go again), I lost my dandelion picker. That’s my fancy term for it. So today, yes, today, instead of packing, I went to Canadian Tire and bought a new one. Along with:  2 solar lights, a barbecue lighter, paper towels, Murphy’s Oil (my favourite), and a bunch of other stuff I didn’t need. But I was very pleased with the dandelion picker. However, I had to wait in line for it.  A young couple held the line captive by presenting about 1900 coupons – they are apparently competing in one of those reality shows.  Good luck with that.  Now I tried to be zen about it, but was I really feeling all cozy inside? No. I wanted to scream. I did some “heart breathing” which is supposed to calm you down instantly, and I didn’t swear. That’s good.

When I got home instead of packing for  mini-trip or doing laundry, I “decided”, yes “decided” to have some ice-cream  on the deck.  But instead of doing the usual bowl of whatever (chocolate chip mint this time – yum…), I added some frozen blueberries to it – half out of guilt, and half out of curiosity. It tasted sublime. Kind of a crunchy freezie-smoothie.

Another hour or so to go before I say good-bye for two days and journey to the homeland. I hope I didn’t bore you too much with my tale about waiting in line for something more interesting to happen. Like tomorrow.

In the meantime, here I am, in the before, the after, and the in-between. Somewhere in there, I’m happy. Just being.

Somehow, someway, that’s good enough for me.

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