Love on the verge of ... nothing?
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What is sad about the garden now is that it's a beautiful day... I keep thinking how nice it would have been to sit outside and chat with my dad... but of course it's not the same anymore. I had one of his old friends to come over for lunch though.
He actually has many indoor plants also that he kept. I think fini's point is right on the money about his attachment and not wanting anyone else to take hold of these things. Originally, before he decided to kill the plants, we were planning to gift them to a botanic garden here -- yes, they were that precious. He had large and unique collections of a few different kinds of plants, and they weren't only the love of his life but the collections were also well-known not only in this country but also abroad, he often had both individuals and large groups visiting to see the garden when he was younger. He also grew lots for selling, that was his job and what he made living from. So the plants he killed were exactly those unique collections... I think he also has a lot of difficulties with losing all the attention he had received (mostly in relation to the garden and his botanic knowledge) throughout his life... visitors came more or less daily when he was younger and able to host them. Including journalists, the television, whatnot. That traffic and his attention seeking was not exactly pleasant in my childhood living with my parents, but that's another story.
I think he has frustration not having that sort of life anymore as he grew old, which he sort of bottled up... until this killing act. I don't think it's helped him though, he seems very sad and even more desperate now. Clearly his judgement was impaired when he decided to deal with his frustration this way. I think what killing all those things probably achieved was just bringing all that grief into his conscious awareness more, and adding to it.
My dad never shared many of his deeper feelings with anyone when he was young. It's probably because he never had a true model for this in his family of origin: his own father was an alcoholic who left them when he was little and his mom brought up 3 kids on her own, his two sisters suffered with serious mental illnesses later in their life (one committed suicide), they were poor and had lots of stresses. The way I see my dad now is that he probably substituted loving relationships (don't think they ever truly had that with my mom either) with the lifestyle, the plants, the fame... he once said the only strong human attachment he experienced was with me... but definitely not a typical parent-child one. I often wondered how it would have affected him if he knew about my alcoholism? Glad I never told him about it, I almost did once.
The chess set in PK's story reminded me of some old times... I have a similar story, the first part at least. My father taught me to play chess when I was ~8 yo, and then for many years, it was one of our favorite activities. We also played with an older boy from next door, who became my first love, although it remained platonic (I was only 10 and he was 18). The boy's life turned into a very sad story: he became a severe alcoholic also also married an alcoholic woman. The wife was murdered later, and my friend died of alcoholism years after. I only heard about these things from neighbors because our friendship ended before he started drinking. I never even thought about this before: that my first love was actually an alcoholic, even though his addiction did not manifest during that time.
Back to my father: so what I arranged is a social worker who will visit us tomorrow. She suggested that I don't tell my father in advance about her coming. She will come in together with the neighbor who is routinely helping my dad, as if she were her friend of something. I really hate doing this in secret, but don't see any other way. My hope is that perhaps this social worker can somehow convince him to get professional assistance, although this hope is very weak.
I'm amazed that I don't have strong urges to drink over all this, although my mood is certainly all over the place. Yes, Venecia, it's definitely not easy to go through all this alone, I never felt this way before but now being an only child really sucks.
Thanks so much for listening, friends, and all the shares and kind words. I'm very sorry about the losses some of you experienced... I often feel weird writing about my father and all this stuff so much here because it has little to do with sobriety... well, I guess for me it's become part of my recovery to deal with these things. Sorry about the long post, but it's been quite therapeutic for me to write it.
He actually has many indoor plants also that he kept. I think fini's point is right on the money about his attachment and not wanting anyone else to take hold of these things. Originally, before he decided to kill the plants, we were planning to gift them to a botanic garden here -- yes, they were that precious. He had large and unique collections of a few different kinds of plants, and they weren't only the love of his life but the collections were also well-known not only in this country but also abroad, he often had both individuals and large groups visiting to see the garden when he was younger. He also grew lots for selling, that was his job and what he made living from. So the plants he killed were exactly those unique collections... I think he also has a lot of difficulties with losing all the attention he had received (mostly in relation to the garden and his botanic knowledge) throughout his life... visitors came more or less daily when he was younger and able to host them. Including journalists, the television, whatnot. That traffic and his attention seeking was not exactly pleasant in my childhood living with my parents, but that's another story.
I think he has frustration not having that sort of life anymore as he grew old, which he sort of bottled up... until this killing act. I don't think it's helped him though, he seems very sad and even more desperate now. Clearly his judgement was impaired when he decided to deal with his frustration this way. I think what killing all those things probably achieved was just bringing all that grief into his conscious awareness more, and adding to it.
My dad never shared many of his deeper feelings with anyone when he was young. It's probably because he never had a true model for this in his family of origin: his own father was an alcoholic who left them when he was little and his mom brought up 3 kids on her own, his two sisters suffered with serious mental illnesses later in their life (one committed suicide), they were poor and had lots of stresses. The way I see my dad now is that he probably substituted loving relationships (don't think they ever truly had that with my mom either) with the lifestyle, the plants, the fame... he once said the only strong human attachment he experienced was with me... but definitely not a typical parent-child one. I often wondered how it would have affected him if he knew about my alcoholism? Glad I never told him about it, I almost did once.
The chess set in PK's story reminded me of some old times... I have a similar story, the first part at least. My father taught me to play chess when I was ~8 yo, and then for many years, it was one of our favorite activities. We also played with an older boy from next door, who became my first love, although it remained platonic (I was only 10 and he was 18). The boy's life turned into a very sad story: he became a severe alcoholic also also married an alcoholic woman. The wife was murdered later, and my friend died of alcoholism years after. I only heard about these things from neighbors because our friendship ended before he started drinking. I never even thought about this before: that my first love was actually an alcoholic, even though his addiction did not manifest during that time.
Back to my father: so what I arranged is a social worker who will visit us tomorrow. She suggested that I don't tell my father in advance about her coming. She will come in together with the neighbor who is routinely helping my dad, as if she were her friend of something. I really hate doing this in secret, but don't see any other way. My hope is that perhaps this social worker can somehow convince him to get professional assistance, although this hope is very weak.
I'm amazed that I don't have strong urges to drink over all this, although my mood is certainly all over the place. Yes, Venecia, it's definitely not easy to go through all this alone, I never felt this way before but now being an only child really sucks.
Thanks so much for listening, friends, and all the shares and kind words. I'm very sorry about the losses some of you experienced... I often feel weird writing about my father and all this stuff so much here because it has little to do with sobriety... well, I guess for me it's become part of my recovery to deal with these things. Sorry about the long post, but it's been quite therapeutic for me to write it.
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attachment /detachment.
i find myself thinking at times that all of life is about detaching. practicing it, so that when we get to the end we're not in a place of clinging still to everything.
killing what you love so no-one else can "have" it, though, is not exactly a positive way of detaching. it's wrenching. violent in more ways than one.
... I often feel weird writing about my father and all this stuff so much here because it has little to do with sobriety... don't agree with you at all here, haennie. i can't and don't separate "sobriety" out from the "rest" of my life. it has everything to do with sobriety in my book.
i find myself thinking at times that all of life is about detaching. practicing it, so that when we get to the end we're not in a place of clinging still to everything.
killing what you love so no-one else can "have" it, though, is not exactly a positive way of detaching. it's wrenching. violent in more ways than one.
... I often feel weird writing about my father and all this stuff so much here because it has little to do with sobriety... don't agree with you at all here, haennie. i can't and don't separate "sobriety" out from the "rest" of my life. it has everything to do with sobriety in my book.
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Hugs to you, Haennie.
Oh, it's painful to read about the demise of this valued botanical collection. For your dad to "kill" it in his frustration and pain in the twilight of life runs so contrary to what we imagine when that moment comes. We think of the things collected and curated as a memorial to our time here -- and, in your father's case, a legacy that would continue to grow and flourish after his time here is done. It so hard to know that the his decision grew out of haste and the depression that has engulfed him, and carries with it a finality that cannot be reversed and did not bring any resolution. Or, that dreadfully overused word, closure.
I don't know if I have told you much about my father's death. He simply went to bed and didn't wake up. It'll be a year in three weeks. The shocker for everyone is that Mom was the less healthy one; she has declined since. It makes me think a lot about our time here. And the end of our time. Separate from your journey, I've been thinking a lot about the places we inhabit and our custodianship of them. Dad's much-loved building, which housed his business and in his retirement became his own mini-museum of antiques (with a lovely garden out front), was sold six weeks ago. Next comes the home, which he and Mom purchased as newlyweds. Beautiful gardens there, too, though certainly not on the scale you describe.
Others will now own them. I can only hope that they tend both the house and the building are well cared for and loved, as they were for decades by my parents. Our family home is 100-plus years old; we weren't the first happy family to live in it. (Not a perfect family by any stretch.) I hope there is continued happiness inside its walls; I hope others tend the gardens and add to them.
But I can only hope. Our time there is done.
I hope that beautiful things grow again in the place you call home, Haennie. Perhaps they'll be different things, ones not likely to be tended with the same mastery delivered by your father's hand and mind, but growing nevertheless. Still, in this moment, in the wake of this destruction, it's very understandable that so much feels so very diminished.
The end of our parents' lives (or the endings that seem to be drawing near) are, by necessity, lived in the here and now, ushering in pain and fear. We see it in ourselves and in others' lives, too. The grace-filled chapters Robby and Melissa are writing. The care-giving lovingly delivered by EndGameNYC to his sister. My hope for both you and me -- and these other souls in this special place -- is that the context of a lifetime continues deepening, both in the immediacy of our lives now and in what follows.
Because the greatest thing your father created isn't found in a garden, no matter the horticultural stature it attained.
It's you, Haennie.
He cultivated a child with a clearly boundless sense of curiosity, one matched with an intellect that serves it well. In you, he grew an individual who aspires to see and live in new places. A brilliant mind driven by scientific pursuit. An individualist who finds joy in art ... and Metallica. Someone who can, with a few graceful words, extend wisdom and compassion to countless people she's never met. His crowning achievement -- you -- is rooted in your love for one another.
That's a remarkable legacy.
Oh, it's painful to read about the demise of this valued botanical collection. For your dad to "kill" it in his frustration and pain in the twilight of life runs so contrary to what we imagine when that moment comes. We think of the things collected and curated as a memorial to our time here -- and, in your father's case, a legacy that would continue to grow and flourish after his time here is done. It so hard to know that the his decision grew out of haste and the depression that has engulfed him, and carries with it a finality that cannot be reversed and did not bring any resolution. Or, that dreadfully overused word, closure.
I don't know if I have told you much about my father's death. He simply went to bed and didn't wake up. It'll be a year in three weeks. The shocker for everyone is that Mom was the less healthy one; she has declined since. It makes me think a lot about our time here. And the end of our time. Separate from your journey, I've been thinking a lot about the places we inhabit and our custodianship of them. Dad's much-loved building, which housed his business and in his retirement became his own mini-museum of antiques (with a lovely garden out front), was sold six weeks ago. Next comes the home, which he and Mom purchased as newlyweds. Beautiful gardens there, too, though certainly not on the scale you describe.
Others will now own them. I can only hope that they tend both the house and the building are well cared for and loved, as they were for decades by my parents. Our family home is 100-plus years old; we weren't the first happy family to live in it. (Not a perfect family by any stretch.) I hope there is continued happiness inside its walls; I hope others tend the gardens and add to them.
But I can only hope. Our time there is done.
I hope that beautiful things grow again in the place you call home, Haennie. Perhaps they'll be different things, ones not likely to be tended with the same mastery delivered by your father's hand and mind, but growing nevertheless. Still, in this moment, in the wake of this destruction, it's very understandable that so much feels so very diminished.
The end of our parents' lives (or the endings that seem to be drawing near) are, by necessity, lived in the here and now, ushering in pain and fear. We see it in ourselves and in others' lives, too. The grace-filled chapters Robby and Melissa are writing. The care-giving lovingly delivered by EndGameNYC to his sister. My hope for both you and me -- and these other souls in this special place -- is that the context of a lifetime continues deepening, both in the immediacy of our lives now and in what follows.
Because the greatest thing your father created isn't found in a garden, no matter the horticultural stature it attained.
It's you, Haennie.
He cultivated a child with a clearly boundless sense of curiosity, one matched with an intellect that serves it well. In you, he grew an individual who aspires to see and live in new places. A brilliant mind driven by scientific pursuit. An individualist who finds joy in art ... and Metallica. Someone who can, with a few graceful words, extend wisdom and compassion to countless people she's never met. His crowning achievement -- you -- is rooted in your love for one another.
That's a remarkable legacy.
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Hello fini 
You are absolutely right about this act of my father being aggressive, and not the "best" method to deal with detachment. But you know, I've just decided to not worry about it. What would resentments give to any of us? For sure, this event has contaminated my perception of him... somewhat. But I won't allow it to contaminate our relationship at this stage, and what's left of it.
Hi Venecia
That tea sounds and looks wonderful -- the only thing I'm left to try about it is the real sensory aspects! I love the Early Grey variety in general, so will definitely give this one a chance
Again, I am so sorry about your dad's passing and your mom's current condition. Yes, all this is extremely unpredictable. My mother died a few years ago in a similar way to your dad, in her sleep... although she had many medical concerns during her life, and some serious heart problems in the last years -- what finally took her also. I'd had a difficult relationship with my mom since my early childhood, but to be honest with you, I was finally "glad" she went the way she did. I don't think she had the psychological capacity to deal with a a more challenging death, and I heard her say many times she prayed for such a death... so... I think I have much fonder memories of her now after her death that anytime during her life. I needed my time to process it.
On the dad front: well, actually the social worker today seemed like a success! He somehow appeared to connect with her and their conversation (I was there but mostly in the background, listening). It sounds like she convinced my dad to attend some social events with other elderly people, and she claims they can drive my dad to those events once per week. He seems interested and not very critical. I'm happy to see this outcome so far, but let's see more; there were similar things he refused to follow up many times before.
Finally, thanks for your very kind and respectful words, Venecia. Not sure I see myself in such positive light, but I am happy if what I bring across transmits that image. Definitely find joy in the arts and music... Metallica was actually a little side track though. When I post music videos here, the goal is to select things that express my momentary feelings... so lots of highly emotional stuff inevitably, and I like that. In my everyday, perhaps my favorite genre of music is all sorts of electronic creations... very often very abstract ones... but here I prefer to share my feelings more than abstract concepts or technological bravado.
Tomorrow on to Asia
You are absolutely right about this act of my father being aggressive, and not the "best" method to deal with detachment. But you know, I've just decided to not worry about it. What would resentments give to any of us? For sure, this event has contaminated my perception of him... somewhat. But I won't allow it to contaminate our relationship at this stage, and what's left of it.
Hi Venecia
That tea sounds and looks wonderful -- the only thing I'm left to try about it is the real sensory aspects! I love the Early Grey variety in general, so will definitely give this one a chance
Again, I am so sorry about your dad's passing and your mom's current condition. Yes, all this is extremely unpredictable. My mother died a few years ago in a similar way to your dad, in her sleep... although she had many medical concerns during her life, and some serious heart problems in the last years -- what finally took her also. I'd had a difficult relationship with my mom since my early childhood, but to be honest with you, I was finally "glad" she went the way she did. I don't think she had the psychological capacity to deal with a a more challenging death, and I heard her say many times she prayed for such a death... so... I think I have much fonder memories of her now after her death that anytime during her life. I needed my time to process it.
On the dad front: well, actually the social worker today seemed like a success! He somehow appeared to connect with her and their conversation (I was there but mostly in the background, listening). It sounds like she convinced my dad to attend some social events with other elderly people, and she claims they can drive my dad to those events once per week. He seems interested and not very critical. I'm happy to see this outcome so far, but let's see more; there were similar things he refused to follow up many times before.
Finally, thanks for your very kind and respectful words, Venecia. Not sure I see myself in such positive light, but I am happy if what I bring across transmits that image. Definitely find joy in the arts and music... Metallica was actually a little side track though. When I post music videos here, the goal is to select things that express my momentary feelings... so lots of highly emotional stuff inevitably, and I like that. In my everyday, perhaps my favorite genre of music is all sorts of electronic creations... very often very abstract ones... but here I prefer to share my feelings more than abstract concepts or technological bravado.
Tomorrow on to Asia
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so much can be "out of character" in dementia, haennie, as you know...
my mom's had dementia now very noticeably for a couple of years, and likely much longer noticeable to my dad (esp. since he was a g.p. and all his life diagnosed everything and everyone, especially our faults!)...
but she's much nicer now, as far as i can see. what i mean by that is that her heart is showing and coming to the forefront, shoving her previous judgmental condemning intellect to the side. it makes me wonder about the "real her" , and though i know there might be no such thing and that this is much too cut-and-dried, i wonder if she always had it and held it in check, severely constrained and restrained it in order to ...to what? do right? bring us up "properly"? not be thought weak?....whatever it is, it's lovely to be with her now. our relationship is better on this level, even though the level is not deep in other ways....
you have a solid bedrock to your relationship with your dad, of respect and love, and whatever he does, that will always be there.
my mom's had dementia now very noticeably for a couple of years, and likely much longer noticeable to my dad (esp. since he was a g.p. and all his life diagnosed everything and everyone, especially our faults!)...
but she's much nicer now, as far as i can see. what i mean by that is that her heart is showing and coming to the forefront, shoving her previous judgmental condemning intellect to the side. it makes me wonder about the "real her" , and though i know there might be no such thing and that this is much too cut-and-dried, i wonder if she always had it and held it in check, severely constrained and restrained it in order to ...to what? do right? bring us up "properly"? not be thought weak?....whatever it is, it's lovely to be with her now. our relationship is better on this level, even though the level is not deep in other ways....
you have a solid bedrock to your relationship with your dad, of respect and love, and whatever he does, that will always be there.
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Originally Posted by haennie 
Hey friends
Just to let you know, I'm having probably more fun than I deserve... with friend from NYC, in Kuala Lumpur, and not in a very deep mood right now but totally sober
Just to let you know, I'm having probably more fun than I deserve... with friend from NYC, in Kuala Lumpur, and not in a very deep mood right now but totally sober
Kuala Lumpur? The wanderer in me is so envious!
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