milo goes to johannes garden

My father has an incredible garden at his home in Vermont. It's here where he's placed a statue for Johannes. I've always enjoyed the solitude there; probably because it's the closest thing we have to a site or memorial.

Anyhow, when my father recently informed me that he'd be selling his home in Vermont - for a variety of reasons, most importantly that his partner is living several states away and he'd like to live in that state - I decided that I needed to take Milo for a visit.

It was really nice, a guys weekend: myself, my father and Milo. It gave us a wonderful opportunity to enjoy each others company, uninterupted, where grandpa and I could be completely greedy with Milo's attention. It also gave me an opportunity to talk to Milo about his brother, a chance to say good bye to Vermont and an oppotunity to mourn the death of my first son, something that time and circumstance have prevented me from doing in quite some time.

Milo was an absolute champ.

Perfectly behaved on his three flights, endless car trips and hikes up onto the Long & Appalachian Trails. When I finally did find some time to spend in Hans' garden - Milo again began to blow me away. Here I am; talking to him, myself, to Johannes. And crying - there was definately some crying. Then he just starts to babble to his brothers statue. Amazing. Sure, he could have just been bored, cold or fealt like babbling, but I honestly do think that he had some idea what it was that we were doing there.

happy anniversary

a year ago today, my mom and i put on the layers and camped out for a curb-side spot on the macy's thanksgiving parade route in an attempt to drown out the sorrow. and that night, while my mom slept in the hotel bed next to me and while justin was on a plane about to land in prague, i got up again to pee - and had the first, thrilling inkling that i was pregnant with milo.

in the days and months that followed, there was more terror than joy - christmas, for example, sucked camel balls - but a year later, that first twinkle of anticipation is now full-blown joy. when i climbed back into bed that night, incredulous that lightning might have struck a third time, i couldn't even dream that i would be spending my next thanksgiving with beautiful, brilliant, chatterbox milo at the table between justin and me.

what a fabulous way to celebrate the first anniversary of my knowledge of milo's existence. i can't believe how lucky i am.

the shouting part

i survived the viewing, the funeral, the reading of the will, the sticky-filthy carpet of our hotel room, the lack of sleep, being snubbed by my determined aunt and my passive-and-therefore-complicit extended family, and watching milo getting clocked in the face with a hardcover book by his cousin - although that last one broke my heart in a million pieces, to see the look of shock and then betrayal on his little face; it felt like he lost a little of his innocence in that moment.

what still has me reeling is going through the nightmare of my dad's office, with 40 years' accumulation of things that meant everything to my dad but very little to us. we filled two dozen garbage bags with junk: clippings from small-town newspapers' "around town" columns, wedding ceremonies he had performed, spreadsheets listing what his parishoners had contributed in the weekly offering, sunday school lesson books from the 70s, letters from traveling evangelists wanting to hold revival meetings at his church, and thousands and thousands of pages of barely funny pictures and off-color jokes printed off the internet. mixed in with the junk was an alarming number of personal documents: bank and investment statements, car titles, insurance policies, receipts for improvements on his rental properties, ancient family photographs, collection notices, medical bills - it was surreal. besides a dozen full file drawers, there were stacks of files piled under his desk, and none of them made any sense. a file labeled "vacation bible school" could contain a ticket stub from a mission trip to mexico, a funeral notice, a copy of a daily newsletter from a vacation bible school in 1982, a couple of sermons, a printed e-mail from his college roommate containing some disgusting joke about jesse jackson, and a list of his denomination's church locations in, say, new hampshire.

apparently, the biggest part of my inheritance is that i'm a slumlord now, although my siblings and i are committed to getting out of the slumlord business as soon as possible. i, for one, don't have the energy one needs to be a really good slumlord. meanwhile, there's ongoing drama between my aunt (who's the executor of my dad's will) and my dad's wife about his other, non-slum assets, which the aunt is determined must go to us. i will be glad when it's over and we can set milo up with a nice educational trust fund and be done with it. i need a good long nap. or a weekend in mexico. fortunately, we're going to barcelona in a couple of weeks. it won't be a moment too soon.

all over but the shoutin'

i was just telling justin how i felt better than i had in three weeks, now that the antibiotic is kicking in and kicking the strep's ass. and then the phone rang.

my dad died this morning. i feel relieved for him, that he's not suffering. this last week he hasn't been able to speak, which must have been pure torture for him. i feel relieved for me, that the family drama is almost over. i just have to get through the funeral and then i'm free. and i feel weird about him not being out there. i've held him at arm's length for years, but he was still always out there. how bizarre that he won't ever talk someone's ear off again. i gave up years ago on him ever acknowledging anything crappy he did, but i suddenly find myself sad that there's no longer the possibility of a fuzzy reunion down the line. how odd. no wonder the concept of heaven is so appealing.

it's a good thing i'm not paying by the minute for phone calls, or by the mile, either. i've lost count of how many conversations i've had with my brother, and sister, and mother, and brother, and sister, etc, ad nauseum. but the hotel's booked, the car's reserved, the seats on the flight are cleared, diapers and socks and kleenex are all purchased. we're leaving wednesday morning and coming back saturday, with my brother in tow. if anyone needs to get the heck out of dodge, it's him. he's the one grieving the most of us kids, the one who was closest to my dad, and the most vulnerable to doing something regrettable in his grief - but he's also the one bearing the brunt of the family drama going on between my dad's sister and his wife. joan collins and linda evans have got nothing on us.

who knows what really happened, but my guess is that as my dad's death became more imminent, his sister started to view his wife not as an ally in his health but an obstacle to whatever my dad has being passed to his kids. nevermind that my dad and his wife have a prenuptial agreement, or that they really don't have enough to make it worthwhile to fight for it, or that none of us kids were asking for anything - my aunt has been giving my brother dire warnings about our stepmother's kids stabbing us in the back and spreading rumors about deathbed papers being signed. she even sat down with our stepmother to let her know that things my aunt had given them during the marriage - rightfully now my stepmother's - had better go to us kids. and the latest absurdity: she sent my brother to get my stepmother to gather up my dad's clothes and bring them to my aunt's, so my aunt - and not his wife - could pick his outfit. i think she's spent too long living on a horse farm and obsessing about bloodlines.

so the funeral should be interesting.

last night i went through pictures to find the ones of my dad and us kids for a video someone is making, and it was a good exercise for me, a reminder that there were happy times. so there won't be any fuzzy reunion, but going back and looking at those pictures and dwelling on what was good is maybe better anyway.

overwhelmed ***now updated with pictures!

milo is three months old today. for three months he has been the great banisher of the shadows in the corners of my heart. life without him is absolutely unthinkable.

my dad is back in the hospital, with pneumonia, and liver failure, unable to speak. i'm expecting the call anytime now. i don't want to have to deal with it.

it seems my unending patience with milo has completely drained any capacity for patience with justin, who meets my disproportionate disappointment at every turn these days. i'm sorry, baby. i don't know what else to do.

my uvula is the size of gibraltar. i was trying to tough it out, since i have no paid sick time left after my 12 weeks out with milo, but then i read up on the possible consequences of letting strep go untreated. so i have a much-dreaded dr's appointment at 8 am tomorrow. ugh. i'm still putting off calling my ob/gyn about my ongoing bleeding with the iud.

milo is headed to his first cavs' game tonight, the season opener. pictures to follow.

***

as promised, the pictures to follow:

we had a lovely time. and we probably won't take him to another basketball game until he's older. like maybe, seven, say.