Clematis

Yay Tillamook! Go Cheesemakers! I don't know anything about Bandon but I love Tillamook Swiss, and their ice cream is fantastic. The people at the school have been nice to me as well. I can't wait to retire too, but not because of the cheesemakers. Today was a wreck of a day...there was a shooting in Winslow while I was there...a guy shot someone in the head. The victim was airlifted to the hospital in Flagstaff, while the shooter was at large for a while. They put all the schools on a lockout or "soft lockdown" for over four hours, so people inside the schools could have a relatively normal day, but no one could enter or leave the schools. Eventually the shooter barricaded himself inside a house with a hostage a few blocks away school where I happened to be at the onset and for the duration. I didn't realize until hours after it was all over that my neck and back was a mass of tension from the ordeal. It was really awful to be so close to something like this going on. And Winslow is a very small town. Teachers in the school knew these people. We all thought this might end with multiple people dead and when I left town the word was the mother of the shooter was sitting at a picnic table with some friends as close to the house there the standoff was as the police would allow her. I'm sure she was terrified that her son would not survive the day, but I just learned the police were able to end the standoff without any further bloodshed. I am sure glad to be home with my kitty...

The district in Oregon picked the wrong person and she was miserable with having to stay in a small room proctoring an evaluation, and she also doesn't know what she is doing. Yet. Not my fault. As to talking to various staff about whether a SpEd student should be tested, well by law it is a team decision and involves discussion. The school psychologist is an essential part of that discussion. But this is the district that had one school psychologist for five counties for years and are trying to get up to speed. I think they have a way to go... The other district in Oregon loves me and everything about me. That is pretty great. I love them too...they are the district with the cheese I happen to love. And ice cream... Meanwhile I am stating busy learning Hebrew. And trope - that is pretty exciting!

He does. I just want to have contact with Hermon and to help his other friends have contact with him because I believe it would be good for him. It's good for anyone to feel love and connection. Also, of course, I miss him. I talked to his son Steve on Monday and he told me that he talked to his dad and Hermon asked Steve "Do I live here now?" Steve told him yes, he does. "Why?" And Steve told him, "Well, Dad, you walked away from your house and a lady picked you up and they took you to a hospital and you had to come here because your memory is too bad to live alone anymore." He said he went on to assure his dad that he is living with people who love him and are taking good care of him. I'm not sure if it's a good idea to make up such an enormous lie (telling a guy who clung desperately to his home that he had walked away from it). It seems like gaslighting, and with a person who is already tremendously confused that seems mean. But there is nothing I can do about that, and I told Steve I was glad he told me that because I can do my best to avoid it by telling Hermon when I talk to him that I really don't know how he came to live there and not his home. The only hope I have of continuing to be Hermon's friend is to play it Steve's way. And after telling different lies to me and Hermon backfired when I talked to him, I think Steve now has the picture that he needs to tell me the "party line" if he expects me to stick to it. I have a friend who is having a similar situation to the one you had with your mom. She is living with her dad, who had dementia but won't go to the doctor or entertain any discussion about his memory or inability to do everything he has always done. She seems particularly distressed by his freely spending money he doesn't have, and is worried that they will lose their house and everything else.

I sure wish he were here. He was so supportive and I surely need it. I feel totally surrounded by people who see me as a big target. I have people in Oregon making up stuff about me even though I have barely begun to work there. The online company just notified me that one district doesn't want me to work there due to "concerns" about my professional judgment and decision making. Three incidents...one was that a woman with severe ADHD was assigned to be a proctor for my testing. We tested for three hours in one day, split into two sessions with the second after an assembly and lunch. She reported that I had tested this student for seven hours in one day, which would be very inappropriate for the student. Due to her ADHD she may have found three hours of proctoring an evaluation to be torturous, but three hours is not seven hours, even if the proctor did feel she lost her whole day. The other two things were similarly distorted. One was asking the primary support person something she did not know - and she didn't know who would know the answer. The third was about a student who has been in Special Ed for seven years and has never been tested. I suggested testing her, but when they resisted I told them I would go along with whatever they wanted me to do. I had basically suggested that it would be good to at least consider following federal law. So if someone makes up something about me or grossly distorts the truth, that means my professional judgment is impaired? This company told me that they hoped this would be an isolated incident but if there were any more reports of problems with my professional judgment, I would be out the door altogether. How do I keep people from making stuff up? I think it is out of my control. And the SpEd secretary in Winslow is upset with me because I have asked that they please let me know in an email if they have some work for me (a student to evaluate) before I take a drive that is 1-1/2 hours each way to find this out. They also figure that it is ok to not tell me if I have a student to evaluate in the morning if I am going out there in the afternoon for a meeting. So if I have a meeting at 3:00 in the afternoon and drive out there at 8:00 or 8:30 in the morning, and there is nothing for me to do all day, that has me sitting in my car of hanging out at Wall-Mart for six or seven hours, that is ok with them. I think that's no way to treat anyone.

It's a year later and I think it is most definitely a "season of grief". Today is my father's birthday, and three years ago on this date...well exactly two months later he would be dead. We didn't exactly know that, but I was scared. Things seemed to definitely be going downhill. But then again, there had been so many times before when things had gone downhill and then he had improved almost to where he had been before. Down five steps and then back up four steps. Surely it could happen again. But it didn't. He was getting too tired of struggling to keep trying. I kept hoping and urging him to try to...try to do what I don't know. We were at the end and now I am going it alone without his companionship and backup. I so wish I had those ten years to do over. Not that I'd do anything differently. What more could I do? Enjoy the time more? I did enjoy the time I had and I treated it like it could be the end. I honestly can't say I would do anything differently. I just wish he was still here with me. Every day...

Yeah, Steve is on the right path, but somewhat misguided in the way he is going about it. He tried to get his dad to stay at his house, the "ranch" with an 8-foot chain link fence around it, and that would have been a good idea in saving money, but his approach was to lie to Hermon (and me) in saying it was only temporary while his former caregiver was recovering from surgery. Hermon figured this out and escaped after a week, with part of the result being that he trusts Steve less than before. Hermon lacks the cognitive capacity to accept the reality that he really cannot go back to living in his home, but I think out of respect for his humanity it is worth trying to give him a chance. A year ago Steve was adamant that Hermon not be told that his daughter Billie had died, and wanted everyone to tell Hermon that she was out of town visiting relatives. This was not a credible lie, even to a guy with dementia, because everything had been removed from her room, especially the bed - due to bedbugs. Also, BIllie's son wanted some of her things. Hermon kept going down the hall and calling me in tears, saying "I think Billie's gone". I would say "yes, that's right - she's gone". He would ask me what happened and as I began telling him about the alcohol and her liver, it would come back to him and he would cry a little and then move on. It seemed to me like a rather normal processing of grief. We all forget our loss in the beginning and then it comes back and slaps us back into reality. Hermon wasn't much different. Steve also wanted to not tell Hermon that he wasn't able to drive any more and so Steve took the car he wanted and disabled the other. He thought Hermon would get angry and thought lying was a way to avoid that. Nevertheless, Hermon would go out in the garage and notice that one car was gone and the other would not start. He would go into a rage and call either Steve or me, yelling about how Steve had stolen his car and disabled the other and he was going to kill him. When Steve got these calls he would panic and ask me to go and check on his dad. When I received these cars I would tell Hermon as sweetly as possible that he was not supposed to be driving and in fact his driver's license was expired. I would tell him as kindly as I could that there was really no one, including me, who thought he should be driving, and offer to pick him up and drive him wherever he wanted to go. After some time, Hermon became familiar with these little talks about his not driving and he was not nearly so upset. I know that taking one's parent's keys away or somehow convincing them to stop driving is really difficult, and I think Steve was rather gutless in avoiding this and by his avoidance delegating it to me. Now he is faced with the even more difficult task of transitioning his dad into a care setting, and he's not handling that very well as far as I can tell. I'm not sure that lying to Hermon is working, and treating me like the enemy is probably a mistake because I could probably help him. I think he is suspicious of me because he is doing something suspicious. I think part of his agenda is figuring out how to get the "ranch" into his own possession so that it does not end up being sold to pay for Hermon's care. I figure he is playing his cards close to his chest because he is trying to pull off this transfer without his brother or anyone who might be assessing Hermon's financial situation discovering the truth. Meanwhile Hermon is being told he is just staying someplace temporarily while his caregiver recovers. If he really could believe that, it might be ok because he would gradually settle in. But when I talked to him ten days ago, he was asking me, "Is this a nursing home?" I think he is figuring out the truth and is understandably upset about it. My biggest fear is that he will put this together and escape in his attempt to go home, and since he is not in a secured facility he might die of exposure trying to get home. It's getting cold. I hope I'm wrong.

I think Steve is really scared. His dad has raged at him off and on throughout his life, and I think he is terrified that his dad will turn on him and rage on him that Steve is stealing his money and his phone and controlling his life and has removed him out of his house without Hermon's permission and so on. Unfortunately, there is a lot of truth in all that, and Hermon used to say over and over that the worst mistake he ever made was turning things over to Steve. It is also true that it was or would soon be necessary to remove Hermon from his house and sell it in order for him to have the money for where he is going to live next, and he would never have been willing to agree to that. Therefore taking him out of his house without his agreeing to it does seem to be necessary. But Steve had a year of my helping Hermon to stay in his house - I had hoped that he would prepare something more sensitive than the way he has gone about it. As to the isolation, I suspect that the staff is trying to control the situation and keep Hermon calm while he gets used to things. It's really hard to imagine that Hermon isn't angry and scared, and it seems likely that the staff is glossing things over for Steve since Steve has allowed for that by his lack of involvement. I figure he is in some amount of denial in his hope that Hermon will just kind of forget that he had a home and a life. People with dementia remember the distant past much better than they remember the recent past, and so this idea seems kind of crazy. But I have to go along with it for the time being. I think Steve is afraid of a lot of things. I think he is afraid of his brother looking over his shoulder, I think he is afraid of what his dad's future will mean for him and his family and his future finances. Steve has been living for the past 15 years on a piece of property rent-free that is valued at about $500K and he hopes to inherit it and not have it go to his brother or his father's care. Hermon meant to give it to Steve, but if he uses his POA to segue in into his ownership he may be in a lot of trouble. I think Steve also has some apprehension about me, although I have worked hard to help Hermon for the past year and that ultimately is of benefit to Steve as well. I think ultimately he is suspicious of others because he is worthy of suspicion. My intention all along has been to help Hermon, but it isn't easy, and I think his sons see him as the goose with the golden eggs. So did his (now deceased and former alcoholic) daughter, who was seen on numerous occasions selling his stuff when he was at church. What a mess! As for me, I am working on plans to have someone outside my family have my POA and all that. I have a good friend who is a sweet and kind person...very smart and also happens to be an MD. She would be a much better choice than either of my sisters. My dad's attorney would be good for a backup to Susan.

Thanks to you both. It has been very difficult. I really don't understand this strategy of cutting him off from everyone, really including his son, until he "settles in". I somehow find it hard to believe this is how this sort of transition is typically handled, but I don't know. I wish I did... Meanwhile, the only thing I can do is to play ball the way Steve wants it played and to continue to behave in such a way that Steve sees me as an ally and confidant so that he doesn't shut me out altogether. I think it very likely that Hermon will "settle in" and then I will be able to have contact with him. I have very gently reminded Steve that if he wants me to stay away from certain topics, he really needs to tell me what they are and he can't really blame me for not having guessed somehow what Hermon knows about his situation and the degree to which he is being kept in the dark. I certainly disagree with all this, but have to go along with it if I want to keep in touch with Hermon.

I still miss my dad, who died almost three years ago. I also miss my friend Hermon, who disappeared from my life a few weeks ago, courtesy of his son. Hermon has dementia and I spent the last year doing everything I could to help him stay in his home as long as possible. Hermon's son Steve got a woman to trick Hermon to get in a car to go have lunch, which was actually on the way to Steve's house three hours away. Steve tried to keep Hermon in his house on a small ranch with an 8-foot chain link fence around it. Steve and his wife were in no way prepared to keep a very healthy and strong man who wanted to go home. After about a week Hermon got over the fence, was captured, taken to the ER, transferred to a psych hospital several hours away, and then placed in an assisted living facility that does NOT have a locked unit and does NOT have a memory unit, which Hermon probably needs, sad as that is, according to a previous assessment. I talked to Hermon on the phone after he had been there for about a week, with his son's blessing, but now Steve does not want me - or anyone - to talk to Hermon, because he thinks that Hermon will soon forget he had a life before, friends, a cat, a home, and all that. He figures if Hermon is out of contact with everyone, he will just settle in and forget everything else. When he was still in the comfort and oriented to his surroundings, he would go into a rage about or at Steve about every day, saying that giving him POA was the worst mistake he had ever made in his life, and raging about how Steve was stealing from him and so on. I figure that is still probably going on, even though he has almost no contact with his son, and the staff is probably reluctant to be open about this, because their occupancy is at about 75%. It seems that Hermon will figure out that the reason he is suddenly living in Steve's town is somehow due to Steve. I also figure Hermon will keep trying to get home. He has no idea Steve is going through Hermon's stuff getting ready to have a big garage sale and then sell Hermon's house. Hermon will need the money to pay for his care at this point, but it seems cruel to have not told him anything about what is going on or where he is or why. Hermon reportedly thinks he is staying at a hotel or maybe someone's home while his caregiver recovers from a hysterectomy, after which she will continue caring for Hermon in his own home. Is this a normal strategy? Lying to someone about why they are no longer living in their home and keeping them in a situation of no contact with anyone from their past? Is this something that facilities do on any frequent basis with elderly confused patients? Does is ever work or do the people just disintegrate and become more confused? Is this ever a good strategy to capture a person with dementia and shut them up with no contact with the outside world? It seems really cruel, but I don't know what that is likely to do to a person who suffers from dementia. Perhaps someone else knows. I find it to be very disturbing, and maybe it is... The other thing that bothers me is that Hermon really has no contact with anyone outside this facility, and so no one really knows what it going on there. Steve told me that he has only talked to his dad twice in the three weeks he has been there, but calls the staff and asks them how Hermon is doing. The staff give him glowing reports about how Hermon is doing well, is happy, busy playing dominoes, and so on. I remarked that there is a financial motive for the staff to give Steve good reports and people in all kinds of facilities do better when family and friends are "looking over the shoulders" of the caregivers by way of frequent visits and contact. I don't think Steve believed me... Any comments from anyone who has had experience with elderly relatives with dementia living in facilities where they don't want to be?

I talked to the rabbi of my synagogue this past Shabbat after Torah study about Yahrtzeit, and asked her if it is only observed the single day the loved one died. She said yes, and that it is observed by the way it falls on the Jewish calendar. Then she asked me what I was thinking of and I told her it really feels like a whole two month cascade of his final two months from his last birthday until his death. She nodded thoughtfully and encouraged me to honor my feelings in remembering and honoring him, commenting that this is still relatively recent. Three years seems like forever and yesterday at the same time...

And now it is three years since my last season with my dad. People tell me, "Oh, the holidays are always hard for people who have lost someone." Well, the holidays are hard for almost everyone. This is not just the holiday blues. It seems like almost everything reminds me of my dad's decline and my gathering panic climaxing to my inevitable loss of him from my life. Or, I am reminded of the things we did and what life was like when things were good. Thursday I was in Flagstaff and I went to Michael's and Sprouts in a little shopping center. This has not been a particular trigger, but suddenly I had that same feeling like I couldn't breathe as I thought about how we used to go to Flagstaff together when he first moved out here. He was taking banjo lessons and I was taking violin lessons at the same place and time; I arranged this before he even moved. After our lessons we would go to this Mexican restaurant in that little shopping center... But he really was going downhill, even in the beginning; I just didn't want to see it. His Parkinson's was already making it hard for him to get his hands to work and he eventually quit the banjo and even the ukulele, which he had played since he was a teenager. I sure loved having him here and in my life. I have lived most of my adult life living alone, but before moving to Sedona I was not so alone. He moved her a year after I did, and even for that year I was totally focused on him and getting him out here. And then it was just me and him for a decade. I do have some friends, but none of them are in Sedona. But if I had it to do over, what would I do? The same thing. I would spend every moment I could with him. There is really nothing I could have said or done that I didn't, and anything I wish I hadn't said or done - well I had plenty of time to make amends and did so. Maybe that is a blessing, that I have no regrets really, only grief. I don't know because the grief is such an anguish. It was such a joy after all the many years of isolation from my family and a fair amount of social isolation, to have a companion for any and all occasion - or for no occasion at all. And he always had my back and was supportive and on my side. Most of the time he was not very vocal about it, but he was there. I learned after he had died just how much I had meant to him and how proud he was. I lost my dad from when I was little, the mentor of my youth and young adulthood, and my best friend and constant companion of my middle years. He really did become my significant other, and we had a spiritual connection that didn't even realize when he was alive. And here I am...

I think it's rather individualistic...Lena cannot tolerate much fat and so she had a low-fat, high protein, high liquid diet...and I watch her blood work for other possible signs of pancreatic trouble. Her "aunt" Susan, a close friend, also loves Lena and watches over. Susan is a psychiatrist, but did go to med school after all. She had some dogs who developed pancreatic problems from eating high fat table scraps, and Susan herself had pancreatitis and had to have it removed. I am blessed to have Susan in Lena's life...I use her commentary to aid in my communication with the vet and to help make suggestions... But those cats that ate all that bacon and eggs clearly did not have sensitive tummies!

You just never know. The guy whose cat was in the Guinness book of world records with the one cat who lived to 38 and other cats who lived to be 33 and 39 - when he was asked what they ate, he said they ate a lot of eggs and bacon! Go figure. Well, I do know that they need a lot of protein and liquid in their diet... I am so glad you have Kitty to keep you company and share your home

I wear purple toenail polish from early spring until well into the fall and then I see my nails really for the first time. I looked at them last night and the deep ridges that went across them, perpendicular to the length of my toes. I know from the past this relates to significant trauma or stress of some kind. Counting back based on a measurement, I came up with sometime between February and March. I couldn't remember what exactly was going on then, and tried looking at my calendar and email related to the school district, but there was nothing there since I no longer have access to that email. I found this unsettling but then realized that it might be a good thing to not have all that trash to thrash over. I looked at my posts here from that period and it all made sense - that was when I was put on an improvement plan that I could either follow by breaking the law or not follow and be determined to be insubordinate, by the definition of my evil boss. I am glad to be out of there. But the drama continues elsewhere. In my new post as a contracted school psychologist two days (or less) a week, I just had a rash of complaints that were unfounded and quarrelsome. The SpEd director was sympathetic and supportive when I told her what had happened and she said everything was fine. Nevertheless, I found this unnerving. How did I end up in a field where people are so petty and nasty (education) and doing a job (School Psychologist) who is so frequently a target for lies, gossip, and coordinated efforts of malignment? I wish I could retire. I love the work, but the constant attacks are awful. I suppose I am getting closer. In a few years, I will be able to collect retirement and social security, and then whatever I make will be padding to have a more comfortable lifestyle, travel a bit, and buy art supplies. I wish it were now, but it's getting closer.

Thank you, Kay, for this and the rest of your thoughtful post. You do so much to comfort and aid people here - it has been wonderful for me to have your support. I know others feel the same way. Pets are family, and sometimes things are such that they are our only family...maybe we have other relatives, but somehow they can seem less like family than the fuzzy ones who share our homes and hearts. I don't know what I would ever do without Lena, but just enjoy and treasure her. I keep reworking the math as to life expectancy. The Guinness world record for a cat's life is 38, and the same guy had two other cats who lived into their thirties. I hope she will live as long as I do. I know that's all kind of a crazy thing to think about and I know that there are other cats who may some day share my life, but she is the one who has gotten me through all the trauma and everything else from the past six years and kept me going. I have had other cats before, but Lena's presence in my life is HUGE. You know what I mean. I think it would be good if you returned to your art. And I really appreciate your encouraging me in my artistic endeavors...

I just got home from community orchestra rehearsal and our principal cellist was not there. Her husband the conductor told us that her father had just died, following his wife by only 14 days. It really threw me back into memories of my dad. My own mother died and I was terrified that he would be right behind her. She was ill for five roller coaster months and I talked to him on the phone for one to three hours every day. I never got back to see her; I was in my last semester of graduate school and every time I mentioned going back across the country to see her the family would discourage it and try to keep me focused on completing my program. So I talked to her on the phone and really focused on him. She died very shortly after I graduated. I coaxed him into coming out to AZ from PA about a year after she died, and it was surprisingly easy to get him to come. My sisters really had no interest in him and I was frantic to give him something to hold onto and keep him on the planet. He told everyone that he was moving to AZ to be my family. He told me that he had lost his purpose to live when my mother died and a person could not live without a purpose. He soon decided that his purpose would be me, and being there for me. I wondered if I could live up to that and did my best. I didn't realize as it was happening that just as I became his purpose to live, he was becoming my own. Now I really wonder what my purpose its and if I have one. When I was younger, I was really driven by the things I wanted to do and accomplish. Then there was my dad and it is hard to know which of us needed the other one more. Now he is gone and the things that I was so passionate about seem more meaningless. Maybe that emptiness is just part of the way loss settles in on a person. It has been very hard to have been left alone. I nevertheless keep putting one foot in front of the other and lately I have been thinking about drawing a lot. I am starting to try to get my chops back as far as drawing is concerned. I'm not sure how meaningful it is, but maybe it will help me get out of bed in the morning.

That is such a great idea! I feel better already. I have always figured that my sisters and their broods (4/5 of whom are just like them) would just go run amok in everything and there was nothing I could really do about it. I have known people who had an attorney as POA and figured that they just had no family. It never occurred to me that it might be a best choice...

Yeah, that end-of-life care can be expensive, and it's sad to think a person's house goes in the end for care. But if you work hard your whole life, you ought to be able to have your hard-earned money at least take care of you, and not have it snatched out from underneath of you and maybe end up without enough to be able to take care of yourself. Hermon was trying to get Gloria to have his POA, but she thought it was too much and she felt that it should be a family member. But I think you're right - the attorney would have probably been a good choice. I wonder what will happen to me in the end because I have no children and I can't trust my sisters. They have five children between them; two partying young men and two of the daughters as narcissistic as their mothers. My third niece is a nice person. But my dad's attorney, who is really my attorney now, she is really solid and trustworthy. And she is a lot younger than I am...I have never done any of those legal things, POA, living will, write a will, any of it, because it just scares me that my sisters would be in control of things at some point, and my niece is too young. I should give it some more thought. As to Hermon, eventually his son will have his agenda more secured and Hermon will have to be at some facility with a locked unit because his son Steve and daughter-in-law cannot take care of him, if for no other reason than that Hermon is so desperate to go home and will most likely never let go of that. So, he will have to go somewhere. I really hope Steve will have him placed in or near the town he wanted so badly to live-and remain-in, so that his friends can have contact with him. He had many friends from the 40 years he lived here, and Steve was never close to his dad. It would be really sad if he stuck him near Steve because no one else could see him. But I hear there is no facility there that has a locked unit except a short term situation at a mental health facility; they don't do long term care for dementia. The least expensive place I know of is actually near Hermon's and my town, and I have always thought it was kind of cool because the buildings are built around a number of courtyards with mature trees and gardens. So the residents go outside a lot and socialize, soak up a little sun, etc. I actually used to take Lena there as a therapy cat and people loved her. The staff was very kind and attentive. The buildings are kind of old, but it always seemed like they spent money on the things that really mattered - taking care of people. It would be good if Hermon could end up there... But who knows what will go on between now and then...

Thank you Kay - it's good to hear from you. I appreciate your mouse advice. I had never heard of electronic traps. I'll see if I can talk Doriene into buying some - or at least one. Hermon was sent by the ER in Show Low to a Behavioral Health Treatment Center in Phoenix. The son, Steve, has been very cagey and avoidant in giving me any information about his dad, what is going on, and where he is. Steve clearly does not want me to talk to Hermon. I suspect several things. First, Steve is an average guy with a history of a serious head injury (coma for 11 days), after which he was never the same. He is a cashier at Lowe's. I am a licensed clinical social worker and a lawyer's daughter; I think he suspects that through some perverse means even though I am a mere woman I might be smarter and/or know things he does not. Second, he is trying to get away with some stuff like selling his dad's house out from under him without Hermon knowing and also without his brother Mark knowing. Third, I think he fears that if I talk to Hermon, I might spill the beans. Being cut out of contact is insulting because I have spent a year being at the beck and call of both Hermon and Steve, and have not only played everything Steve's way, but done everything possible to help in any way I could...taking him shopping, taking him out into the community so he could visit with people, feel connected, and be happier. I also worked to get services set up for him in the home, and handled any little problems that arose because I live 5 minutes from Hermon's home and Steve was four hours away. I also talked to him over and over all day on the phone every day to help him feel connected. The truth is that I was able to give Hermon another year at home, and Steve had that year to prepare a gradual path for Hermon to transition. But he did nothing but take advantage of what I was able to do for him and then cut me off from Hermon. Steve seems to be in close communication with Hermon's ex-girlfriend and his caregiver, who behaved as if she was in some competition with me on who was Hermon's best friend and the most important person to him. She was/is an employee - Steve paid her with Hermon's money. I am Hermon's friend and was careful to never take any money for anything I did for him. Nevertheless, I figure that eventually things will sort themselves out. Hermon's house is worth about $500K, as is the 5-acre "ranch" that Hermon bought and Steve has been living on rent-free for 15 years. Hermon did plan to give Steve the ranch in the end (in his will), but he never did, and he may need the money because long term care for Alzheimers is expensive. (Hermon's mother lived to be 105). Steve is probably planning on using his Power of Attorney to transfer the ranch over to himself to keep it away from Mark, and hope that no one finds out. He doesn't know anything. Eventually, Hermon will be transferred to a long term facility. When that happens, they will find his assets, and would be able to find a recent transaction, like a recent transfer of the ranch, if Steve is trying to present a picture that Hermon has much less money than he actually has. Steve seems to think he is smarter than anyone else and no one could figure any of it out. There could be a lot of problems, and Steve is trying to keep anyone from thwarting the agenda that he and his wife have to grab the resources. Hermon's long time friend Gloria has also been cut out, but Hermon's friends all know each other and are aware of this. I told her it seemed like Steve figured he has grabbed the golden goose. It seems really awful because Hermon worked so hard for all of his life to get into a secure position, usually working two jobs, and he was very generous to his kids with his money. But now he may need his resources to live wherever he ends up. I know that people do horrible things to each other after a death to get at the money. But Hermon is still alive! It is very distressing. And I know that wherever he is, he is upset and confused and terrified about what is happening. He used to tell me that it had been a horrible mistake to have Steve have his POA, but Mark would have been worse. I think he feared what is actually come to pass. Eventually he will be placed somewhere, and no one will care if I talk to him or visit him or if anyone else does. But probably not until Steve and his wife have accomplished their agenda... Sorry, that was really long... I remember my dad talking about these kinds of things happening, and from time to time he would say something like I would probably try to shove him off into some "old folks home" and take his money. I take telling him that if he wanted to go somewhere other than his home I didn't want to be selfish pig and just keep him all to myself, so I would let him go...but what I wanted was for him to stay right where he was - where I could get in my car and be at his house in a minute and a half. I sure miss him...

Thank you Martha Jane. I didn't see this lovely post when you wrote it...I have been busy trying to cope with my new life and the remnants of my old life and the gaps between. So often everything seems like just too much. I have a new work situation and it's not really quite enough work. That's not good, but I keep thinking it's about to pick up. I had become good friends with a 90-year old retired barber named Hermon, who knew my dad, and in spite of his dementia we had great fun and I loved taking him out in the community where he could chat up old friends, new friends, and anyone else. He really is a treasure. But now there is no more Hermon because his son suddenly snatched him out of his home and into a lockdown unit out of town. The son is dismantling and selling Hermon's home and has blocked all contact between Hermon and his friends. That's hard to watch and I really miss Hermon. Losing contact with Hermon is especially hard because he was a little like my dad in some ways. He was always available and always supportive and "on my side". Since they were both in the military and only a few months apart in age, they had a lot of things in common...similar memories, music, quips, etc. And also Hermon knew my dad and thought highly of him. And my neighbor has mice and she is in total denial about it. This is really a concern because we live in condos and she is on the other side of a wall and it would be so easy for the mice to chew through the wall and I would have them too. And I have people complaining about me at work and this is so familiar...some little thing happens that bothers someone but they can't or won't be straightforward about it and so they complain to a boss but exaggerate it a lot first because if they just told the truth it wouldn't be much of a story. I am also having to deal with the car accident that I was in 2-1/2 years ago where a woman tried to pass me on the inside of a right-hand turn and then chased me around yelling at me for the condition of her car. It is finally going to court. And she is still making up stuff... I appreciate your sympathy about my work woes. It is really frightening. I am trying so hard to get things just right and make everyone happy and am so far from it. I had a teacher complain because I went over a form he had filled out on a student and he felt really invalidated. First he sent the teacher form home for the parent to fill out, which they did even though it clearly said "Teacher Form" on it. I got him another one, but had to ask him about some of his answers; how can he say that a boy usually turns in his homework on time without being prompting when the teacher never sends home work? And how does is this same student able to count out change and make financial calculations when he only has a vague idea that money is for buying stuff? Should we conclude that the boy doesn't need help because his teacher can't read directions? I tried very hard to be diplomatic, but the truth is that I did question his answers. I'm not very good at playing dumb. Perhaps I should practice. I also have a pair of parents who is very upset with me. I called them with some open-ended questions about their child, whom I am evaluating. He has an emotional disability and is in a classroom for students with severe behavioral problems. I usually find that parents love to talk about their kids and once you get them started they go on and on, and you really get a feel for what the child is like, because who knows them better than their parents? But not these people - they were paranoid and suspicious and acted like I was interrogating them no matter how much I said I really wasn't looking for anything specific - just a little input from them about his strengths and what they thought he might need at school. I actually think I may have been too reticent and deferential, and they never actually told me anything other than that their child had no problems at home or at school. But they told the special ed director that I was blaming all of his problems on their parenting. Their parenting was never mentioned by me or them and I thought he supposedly had no problems. And they refuse to go to the student's meeting if I am there because it would make them too uncomfortable, but that gives the district a problem because legally I am supposed to be there. But most of all I miss my dad. I miss him every day. Two days ago I walked down to his house and of course he wasn't there and he isn't coming back and I still feel like my chest is crushed in and I can't breathe. I am trying to make more of an effort to get out and be involved in something. I have gone back to the synagogue and am learning Hebrew. This seems like a good thing...

Thank you Kieron! It is unbalanced. I hear him talking to me and that has been a blessing but not the same. It's been 2-1/2 years, but I still feel very much like I don't know how to put one foot in front of the other. He was the father of my childhood and youth, the consultant in my middle years in getting my professional life going, and my partner and best friend for the last ten years of his life. There is so much to reflect back on and still learn from and take comfort in, but how is it possible that it is all over?

Thanks, Kay! I am very proud of my bench. I continue to spend time with Hermon, which can be difficult but is really rewarding. I have to really keep an eye on him, and conversations can be stressful. Sometimes he is right there with me and really follows and other times he just can't process a flow of conversation because he can't remember the earlier part. I keep reminding him, and the blessing in it all is that even when he gets really upset he can't remember it shortly afterwards. If I lose my patience for a minute, it all ends up ok. He may hang up the phone because something bothered him, but I can call him back ten minutes later and we just start over. No memory = no grudges. Over time, he remembers the good parts. It has been ten months now since we adopted each other as family, and he views me with unconditional positive regard. He is not my dad, but he has been kind of a placeholder for me. No matter what the other says, we start over with affection and tolerance. For him, it is a part of a kind man having dementia. For me it is a lesson in patience and forgiveness. Meanwhile, it is nice to hang out with someone who remembers and loves my dad and has much in common with him. Many similar memories of music, culture and history...and many of the same quips. But, like you, I miss him every day. I miss his unwavering support in every direction. He was a font of knowledge of the world and how things worked, and he always had my back, including financially. The absence of financial stress was really a boon for ten years, and not feeling worried about the world collapsing at every turn allowed me to know what it is like to feel some peace and contentment that I didn't have before. This came upon me gradually; when he first moved to AZ and I lost my job within the first years, I wasn't sure I could trust him and thought the rug could be pulled out from under me at any moment. Eventually I came to believe him when he told me that he would not allow that to happen. I still hear him encouraging me to not panic and that I was close enough to retirement and had enough that he had left me that I would be ok if I was careful with my money. I suppose the truth is that I feel more optimistic about the future than I did before the ten years he was here and such a part of my daily life, but having had such a positive force behind me I really miss it. He also was a real partner in everything we did together; we each had our part and things were good. I remember thinking and commenting on how people seemed to have an idealized view of our relationship, and this seemed somewhat amusing and unrealistic because there were certainly some problems and irritations. But there was a lot of love and mutual dedication. I was totally committed to doing anything he needed, and I eventually learned that was reciprocal. He told me one day when I was in high school, "No one will ever love you as much as your parents do". He was really talking about himself, and I think he was right. No now has or will. That is really hard, now that he is no longer with me. Sometimes I am afraid that I may have a long life, but I am trying to take good care of myself in case I do. I lost 17 pounds this summer, and am almost back to where I was before he died. I hear you on the car problems...and other mechanical and "shop" problems. So many of these things would be so much easier for my dad to deal with, although at the end he was just throwing money at these problems and not doing it himself. With Parkinson's he couldn't do it anymore, but had the money to throw. I don't really have the money to throw, and these projects - like the bench - are really hard for me. Hermon helped me, but I had to be the planner because his memory is just not there. I kept telling him that it would be more fun if my dad was there helping as well, and he agrees. But the truth is that if my dad was here, Hermon would not. I find myself thinking what I might do differently if I could start those ten years over that we had together, and I really can't think of anything. Maybe I would enjoy it more. Probably not. Here is another project. I am working two days a week in Winslow and this is going well. The work with the online company has not yet started and this is a little worrisome. I am trying to not panic. Meanwhile I created a little virtual office so that I can work in my bedroom and no one can see in the mirrored closet doors behind me that I am in my bedroom. I put in this screen and refinished that old chair, which had a really tattered seat. It has good light from the big window.

Time keeps moving along and sometimes it seems like things are ok, but I still keep running up against things that make my breath stop as I collide with the loss again. It is as if my life is a carefully designed path that carries me in between the areas that are too painful to face. This summer I worked on a lot of projects, and I guess I got a lot done, but still everything really feels the same. I moved into the big bedroom with the Terpur-pedic queen bed that was my dad's and the enormous east-facing window I used to love. I had been sleeping in a daybed in the other bedroom, which is always semi-dark but seemed cozy. It was good after the car accident, but I thought I should try to move on. I sleep fine in the big bed in the room I slept in for a decade, but feel a little lost and confused when I wake up. I just get up anyway. I refinished this bench this summer. The HOA gave me a list of things I had to do and one was the "dilapidated" furniture in my entryway. I moved the shelves to the back and replaced the wood on this bench. It was a challenge, as I am not a woodworker, but I love the way it came out. It has Danish Oil over Red Oak, and I rubbed beeswax into it and ironed it in. It really beads up the water when it rains. I like it. The HOA also told me I had to get rid of the tree in my back yard/patio, because it is higher than the privacy wall between the back yards, and the idea was that it was a problem because rodents could climb the tree and get into the roof/attic. Problem with that is rodents can just climb the stucco; they don't need a tree. Also, there is a law against removing/killing trees for no good reason. So the tree got to stay. And like the bench, I am more enamored with it now that it was threatened and saved than before. I love my bench. I love my tree. My only tree. And I am not a tree killer. This is good. I have returned to the synagogue and am learning Hebrew, with the goal of going through a Bat Mitzvah and being able to read from the Torah. I have also just learned how to hula hoop, and this is rather satisfying because I never could do it when I was a kid or younger adult. This all seems good, but I keep having the same old experiences. My little condo feels full of emotional landmines tied to memories. Or, I go into my Photos on my computer, and as I go back into the ten years that he lived out here in AZ with me, I get that feeling that my chest is so constricted I cannot breathe. Of course I am breathing and going about my life, but I feel like I am paralyzed in my life, even though I know that it isn't really true. Maybe it is the meaninglessness that really is the problem. It's just not the same. It's not like it was before he came to AZ and I was by myself, either. I don't know what it is. I suppose it is my life, but I'm not sure what that is really.

Two days before Thanksgiving I felt strongly compelled to tag along with my friend Gloria, a barber, to visit Hermon, the barber who opened, owned and operated the local barber shop for decades, and also gave Gloria her start as a barber. Hermon's daughter and caretaker had just died and the family was in free fall, since his other children live hours away and Hermon has dementia from Alzheimer's. My sudden appearance mystified his family but delighted Hermon. Since then I have coordinated services for Hermon and been "eyes and ears" for his son in our joint effort to help Hermon to stay in his home as long as possible. I call Hermon at least six times a day, visit him frequently, keep a tight loop of communication between everyone, and take Hermon out in the community, which is the delight of his life. He frequently sees people who knew him for many years, and he is a delight even to people who are new to him. Now strangers, because the man never knew a stranger and people seem to sense that about him. When I first approached Hermon in his home that day, I asked him how he was doing and he said, "Not so good", and fell into my arms crying. After a minute he pulled back, and as an introduction I showed him a photo of my dad and he hugged me again, crying even harder and telling me that he remembered my dad well and really missed him. In the past few days Hermon has had some remarkably lucid times, and has related some things to me about my father that really put things into perspective. He told me that when I was in his home that first day and he realized that I was the daughter of his beloved former customer Charlie, he was thrilled I was there because he knew how much my dad had treasured me. Last night Hermon was relating to me what he recalled about my dad's talking to him over the years about me. Hermon was telling me not so much any details, but more the gist, the essence, and the long term constancy of what my father had said to him. Hermon concluded this by telling me, "you really were his entire world". Hermon will be 90 in August, and he barbered until about three years ago, working in his own shop here for the last 35 or so years. When he retired, he was the oldest, longest continually working barber in the state of AZ, having barbered for 67 years. He cut my dad's hair for ten years, and although Hermon always says to me and others that he and my dad were real good friends, I have heard no details anywhere that they ever got together outside of the barber shop. Hermon's son has told me that his dad "was not the type of person" to get together with people anywhere outside of work. I have wondered what this means - how Hermon was so connected to my dad and what that might have meant to my dad. Hermon inadvertently explained this himself, telling me, "barbering is a very personal relationship and a strong bond develops over the years because of the communication that takes place". My dad said very little about Hermon, but the truth is that my father was not a talker and said very little in general at home. I always assumed he didn't talk much to others either, but that may not be true. He has been more communicative with me since his death than he ever was before, and I am getting to know him more and more after his death. How and why that is - well that is a mystery! Anyway, it seems very clear to me now that my dad sent me over to Hermon's house with Gloria that day, and seemed to believe that once I got there I would see what I needed to do and do it. I have done so in spite of the challenges of many kinds. Caring for Hermon is sometimes it is an honor, sometimes an aggravation, and usually a pleasure, but it has never felt like a choice. He is not my father but he is somehow family - family that my father arranged after his death. I miss my dad every day and I feel lost here surrounded by his possessions and faced with his physical absence. I struggle every day to find meaning in all of this, mostly how it is that I didn't really understand so much of the essence of him or his history until he was no longer living. I wish he could have explained so many things to me while he was alive, rather than my having to extrapolate if after his death. But like him, I am a relentless seeker of truth and understanding, and he was not much of a talker. I suppose it is what it is...

Yes, I could work as a psychotherapist for the guidance center in Cottonwood or Flagstaff. The executive director of the Flagstaff Guidance Center really wants me to work for him... And...check this out. I spent a huge chunk of time over the weekend researching all of the states in the country and what one needs to do to be cross-licensed. The online company had sent me several suggestions for states to get cross-licensed in, but they seemed to all have something I don't have and can't really get, like a degree from a school that was NASP-approved while attending (my school got this later). I made up a spreadsheet with information I got from NASP online. I then checked this state by state by looking at each state's website, and sorted it all out into columns. They really appreciated getting all this data and gave me two suggestions from my short list. One of them is Oregon! Oregon is actually one of the easier states to get a reciprocity license, and I jumped right on it, especially since the woman from the company told me that "Oregon is one of our high needs states". So, I'll be a licensed school psychologist in Oregon - what do you think about that? Cool, huh?