" Sixty-five years. They go by in a flash."

" Sixty-five years. They go by in a flash."

William Parrish in Meet Joe Black

Between 1992 and 1995, I was the primary caretaker of my mother while she functioned as the primary caretaker for my father as they were simultaneously, terminally ill. I was 35 years old. Jim and I were married fifteen years, Barry was 12, Kara was 8. Looking back that summer was a summer of endless waiting.

I have since learned that was only one in a series of periods of seemingly endless waiting.

Mother was on a wait list to have double valve, double bypass heart surgery that could save her life, in the meantime, we tried to make her comfortable while her lips turn blue from a lack of oxygen.The stress of mothers failing health had a negative, ripple effect on my father. Dad had a stroke twelve years prior which at the time seemed to have created no physically apparent damage. As a result of stress characteristics of his dementia began to manifest at an accelerated pace. His dementia was growing exponentially until he changed from an intelligent strong man into a huge toddler in need of my constant supervision. Although he avoided to admit it out loud he had become very dependent on my mother. Married forty years; they were the personification of two people functioning as one. Mother was the intellect and dad was the physical strength.

We waited for ten plus hours in Mercy Hospital Coronary Surgery family room to hear the news how mother had survived her extensive surgery. Five hours into the wait daddy looked at me in panic and asked, " Who is going to take care of me?" "I will, daddy, I will take care of you." I promised that day. Through out my middle thirties everyday was consumed with driving my parents to doctor visits, making nutritious meals for Jim, Barry, Kara and my parents, doing laundry, finding home health care nurses, adult daycare, getting prescriptions filled, balancing check books, selling their home and personal belonging then finally making pre-funeral arrangements. There were times I was so sad, exhausted and frightened of what was going to happen next that I used to lie face down on the floor. Being prone on the floor used to help me fight the feeling of falling deeper into despair.

My father used to follow me around the kitchen at meal times so faithfully that my brother Mark joked, "To him, your name is Chuck Wagon." I can read this now and laugh, at the time my life and eyes were filled with tears of exhaustion.

I share just a few of the events from my three years of being a caretaker for my dying parents not to complain but to convey that wisdom may be gleaned from spending time with the elderly or dying person of any age. There is a book by one of my favorite authors M. Scott Peck called, The Bed by the Window. http://www.mscottpeck.com/html/biography.html More than just having the privilege of spending their last three years as caretaker for my parents; I had the unique experience of being with them as doctors explained their prognosis of their near and eminent death.

It is a humbling and a powerless positions to look into the eyes of someone who has their days numbered before them. Knowing the roulette wheel was spinning towards an unknown date for my parents deaths opened a multitude of questions in my own life. The thing about being a caretaker is that no matter how good of a job you do the patient always dies in the end. The surprise element was my mom died just before Thanksgiving in 1994. My father died just seven months later on Father's Day 1995.

Part of the healing process for me was to ask myself if I had completed all of the goals for my life? Did I allow fear of failure to stop me from pushing myself into uncharted territories? What do I need to do each day so when I am in The Bed by the Window, I have no regrets of what might have been?

Facing these nagging questions led me to pursue what might happen if I studies art in college. Eventually the quest for graduate school was the driving force that propelled me away from the comfort and security of my home, my husband and my family last year to live on my own in Savannah...

Pictured here is a piece I made about My Life Unraveling at 35. Seven handmade, abaca paper squares are sewn into pockets divided by hairbands covered with my own hair. I had braided then cut my long hair at age 35 as a sign of submission, giving up my freedom, to become the caretaker for my parents. This small piece represents a monumental life experience when I was trying to maintain order as my life was falling apart.

"The happiest miser on earth is the man who saves up every friend he can make."

Robert E. Sherwood

One year ago this week was I was busy completing finishing touches preparing for my new adventure graduate school in Savannah. Last summer I was consumed with cleaning our home, sorting through old papers, mending, washing and packing clothing. Not wanting to make duplicate purchases of things I already owned I carefully decided which art supplies, books, chemicals and equipment for dying fabric would be needed in my new studio apartment.

Throughout the month of August appointments to get my teeth cleaned, annual mammogram, dermatologist skin check, and primary care doctor had to be completed because our medical insurance did not cover me while I lived in Savannah.

Maybe it was from living as a young child with the consciousness that my mother was could die at anytime I had learned my own way to measure happiness. I have never measured my success in dollar amounts, titles or degrees. Armed with the philosophy I only get to spend time and money once, choose wisely,Happiness consists of being with people I love and people who love me.

Leaving the students and the place that had been my home for the past six year dragged up grief that was unexpected. For three years, 1992 - 1995, I was the Primary Caretaker of our parents. Although dad was ten years older than our mother they died just seven months apart. My brothers both lived out of town so the day to day responsibility to take them to the doctors, shop then cook nutritious meals, clean out then sell their home of 43 years occupied my life. Being out of my social group for three years as a caretaker left me alone after the funerals. My old friends had moved on with their lives. Being open for adventure I was excited for change when my husband was offered a promotion if we moved to Western NY.

By this time I had become rather adept to seeing my life poured into a blender, push liquefy button on high, pour out content in altered state to create a new life. Recreating a new life has become part of my existence. As one door closes I look for light from an open window. People are in our lives for a reason, a season or forever. Who is still connected when the winds of change begin to blow again? What did I learn during my previous life experience? What do I have left? Where can I take this new knowledge to a new place to grow?

My teaching position, even if I was only Adjunct Instructor, provided a purpose that kept me so busy I could push the pain of not having an extended family out of my conscious thoughts. I was so dedicated to the progress, success and future of my students, many colleagues thought I held a full time position and an MFA already. Often I spent evenings, weekends or stayed after class on my personal time to work with students that needed extra help.

Applying for graduate school to advance my own education in hopes of being more than an Adjunct was the next logical step. Since I was by choice a full time, cookie baking, stay at home mom for twenty-two years going back to college to earn my bachelors degree magna cum laude was a huge accomplishment. Successfully teaching college students who had no clue of the class projects at the beginning of the semester then enjoyed weaving, dying fabric and using correct vocabulary to speak about their work during critiques brought me to tears of joy as they left at the end of the semester. How blessed could I be?

Not only to have had the joy of raising Barry and Kara into successful adults, I also had the privilege to share my knowledge with college students getting paid for doing what I loved. Do what you love and the money will follow is my belief. My next goal was to earn my MFA credentials so I could apply for a full time position where I could earn enough money to support myself. The next questions was, where should I go from here?