.jpg)
It's interesting how things evolve. A business can start out as one concept then over time may change into another, sometimes related, sometimes not. How many bookshops and giftshops eventually add a coffee area and then in some cases drop the original idea to become just the coffee shop? Years ago our local fruit shop - already an amazing place to shop - expanded and added a continental deli. Now it's truly a one-stop shop and is busy every single day of the week.
OK - so I'm getting a little off track. But what I'm trying to say is this: I started Silvana's Place in February 2010 as a gratitude journal - "Each day I want to remember how fortunate I am. Each day I will count my blessings".
Along the way things happened - as they do in life - and soon my entries reflected a time of uncertainty and fear. What had happend to make me feel like this? Rob had accepted a job on, of all places, Thursday Island .... where was that? Off Cairns somewhere? Well sort of - only after another two hour flight further north and then a ten minute ferry ride from Horn Island.
However, once I'd had a change of mindset and injected myself with a spirit of adventure my posts took another turn as Rob and I began life on TI - remember Boris, Bize, the Wongai ball and the many many stories of life in the pilot house? I was provided with such a rich source of stories, and family and friends were always kept up to date on happenings and events.
And lastly, for the past few weeks, I have used Silvana's Place to share with you a special time in my life as I helped my Mum nurse Phil until he passed over into peace last week.
It started as a gratitude journal and it still is as I document the joys, challenges, heartaches and new experiences that life tosses to me. What new adventures await us? Where to now?
I'll keep you posted - life is good :-)
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Celebrating Phil's life
Yesterday our family, relatives and friends gathered at Mum's parish church to farewell Phil. I wish he had been there to see it. It was a fitting tribute to our loved one, to their friend.
The service was lovely, the hymns were sung beautifully and the readings were appropriate. Mark did a fine job reading the eulogy and although he was emotional, he managed to keep it together.
After the cemetary we gathered back at Mum's place and enjoyed each other's company as we shared our memories, thoughts and feelings. I found myself tuning out for a few seconds every now and then and wishing that Phil was there because, after all, this was all for him. He would have been overwhelmed.
One by one the the visitors left. They complimented Mum on the service, they shared a story, some made a promise to keep in touch. Eventually it was just us - the family. We talked about the day, read the names in the memorial book and looked through a few photos. We talked about relatives that we hadn't seen for a while and friends who had travelled a distance to be here.
After a light meal and reassurances from Mum that she was OK we too started to leave. We felt Phil's presence as we hugged each other tightly and a little longer than usual - his energy was all around us.
He's left us with a powerful message - a promise to stay united as a family, to stay in touch and to say regularly how much we mean to each other.
Today I want to say again ..... life is good.
The service was lovely, the hymns were sung beautifully and the readings were appropriate. Mark did a fine job reading the eulogy and although he was emotional, he managed to keep it together.
After the cemetary we gathered back at Mum's place and enjoyed each other's company as we shared our memories, thoughts and feelings. I found myself tuning out for a few seconds every now and then and wishing that Phil was there because, after all, this was all for him. He would have been overwhelmed.
One by one the the visitors left. They complimented Mum on the service, they shared a story, some made a promise to keep in touch. Eventually it was just us - the family. We talked about the day, read the names in the memorial book and looked through a few photos. We talked about relatives that we hadn't seen for a while and friends who had travelled a distance to be here.
After a light meal and reassurances from Mum that she was OK we too started to leave. We felt Phil's presence as we hugged each other tightly and a little longer than usual - his energy was all around us.
He's left us with a powerful message - a promise to stay united as a family, to stay in touch and to say regularly how much we mean to each other.
Today I want to say again ..... life is good.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Celebrating each other
Tomorrow we will celebrate Phil's life and lay him to rest. And today we are all getting together as a family to celebrate each other.
No doubt we will be talking about Phil, remembering him in oh so many ways - what he would have said, how he would have liked, how he would have laughed. And we may even get a little teary as we talk.
But today is about being together and making promises to ourselves - silently, not out aloud - that we will do this more often. And if we can't, we will at least stay in touch. In this day and age that's not difficult.
Tomorrow will be another type of get-together - sadder, emotional, maybe at times unbearable. And we will again talk about Phil.
There's been a bit of planning this week. We've booked the church, it's a full Mass - well if you know my mother it wouldn't be anything less. We're having singers to sing the traditional hymns (again my Mum) and the Mass booklets have been printed too. They look great - there's lots of photos and wonderful memories - a lovely tribute to Phil. And in case you're wondering why Mum has so much clout, well Phil gave her carte blanche :-)
Mum asked me to write the eulogy - it was hard. There was so much I didn't know about him and that made me sad. I should have been able to sit down and have so much information in my head, but instead I struggled. But what I didn't struggle with was recounting how he bravely fought his cancer and how much I admired him. That part was easy and in fact I can't say it loud enough.
But today is for those of us left behind as we reminisce, hold on to fond memories ..... and wish with all our hearts that he was here to reminisce as well.
No doubt we will be talking about Phil, remembering him in oh so many ways - what he would have said, how he would have liked, how he would have laughed. And we may even get a little teary as we talk.
But today is about being together and making promises to ourselves - silently, not out aloud - that we will do this more often. And if we can't, we will at least stay in touch. In this day and age that's not difficult.
Tomorrow will be another type of get-together - sadder, emotional, maybe at times unbearable. And we will again talk about Phil.
There's been a bit of planning this week. We've booked the church, it's a full Mass - well if you know my mother it wouldn't be anything less. We're having singers to sing the traditional hymns (again my Mum) and the Mass booklets have been printed too. They look great - there's lots of photos and wonderful memories - a lovely tribute to Phil. And in case you're wondering why Mum has so much clout, well Phil gave her carte blanche :-)
Mum asked me to write the eulogy - it was hard. There was so much I didn't know about him and that made me sad. I should have been able to sit down and have so much information in my head, but instead I struggled. But what I didn't struggle with was recounting how he bravely fought his cancer and how much I admired him. That part was easy and in fact I can't say it loud enough.
But today is for those of us left behind as we reminisce, hold on to fond memories ..... and wish with all our hearts that he was here to reminisce as well.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Letter to Phil
Dear Phil,
This morning I went to Mum's, as usual, but you weren't there. The bed was still in the lounge room, as usual, but you weren't in it. When Mum answered the door she was sad, as usual, but she didn't have to bring me up to date on what kind of a night you'd had. We both knew that, finally, you were at peace.
After we'd had a cup of coffee, Vera and I slowly and carefully put the lounge room back into place. We opened the windows, put fresh flowers around the room and made a little floral centrepiece with burning candles for the dining table. We could feel your energy all around us, but this time we had you in a fresh, bright, living room and not in a sick room.
We talked about you all the time - were your ears burning? This afternoon it was decided to celebrate your life on Monday at Regina Caeli church. Mum got your clothes ready - your favourite black jeans, your flanalette shirt, your best thongs and your Makita cap. She bought you a new one because the one you always wore is a bit grotty. And .... you know the beanie I knitted for you - the one I finished yesterday? -well you're taking that with you too.
Phil, I want to think about you, but every time I do, I start to cry, so I stop myself. I just feel so sad. All I seem to remember is your little body on the bed and how much you suffered, how quickly you deteriorated - things would literally change over 24 hours.
I'm wishing that I had been with you when you took your last breath. I know we were all in the room with you but we had no idea you were getting ready to leave. I know the nurse had told us that it wouldn't be much longer, but she'd been saying that for days.
So after we turned you onto your side - facing the window, away from us - Mum sat down to read, I picked up my knitting (this time I'm making a scarf for a friend's daughter), Vera and Deb were flicking through a magazine and talking about the fashions at the Royal wedding and Matt and Rose were watching TV.
Mum commented to me that your breathing was quite laboured and I agreed, but as I said to her, that's what you'd been doing all morning. For some reason I stopped knitting and looked over to you. I focussed on your shoulder, looking for the rise and fall of your breathing. There didn't seem to be any, but I told myself that you were so weak that obviously your breathing was too.
Still I wanted to check. I walked around the bed to see you - and you looked different. You weren't moving - but that was because you had taken a deep breath and had not yet exhaled - right? I waited several seconds for you to exhale that breath Phil. But there was no breath - you had gone.
You left silently and privately. Was that because you didn't want to upset Mum? Was it because you didn't want a fuss - you hated being fussed over. But I wouldn't have fussed Phil. I would have just held your hand, stoked your lovely face - gaunt and thin as it was - and thanked you for the honour and the privilege of looking after you for the last seven weeks of your life. I would have wished you well on your journey and thanked God and the angels for finally releasing you from your pain.
I did that anyway Phil. And while you're not here anymore, you're still with me - in my head, in my heart, in my life.
Love,
Silvana xo
This morning I went to Mum's, as usual, but you weren't there. The bed was still in the lounge room, as usual, but you weren't in it. When Mum answered the door she was sad, as usual, but she didn't have to bring me up to date on what kind of a night you'd had. We both knew that, finally, you were at peace.
After we'd had a cup of coffee, Vera and I slowly and carefully put the lounge room back into place. We opened the windows, put fresh flowers around the room and made a little floral centrepiece with burning candles for the dining table. We could feel your energy all around us, but this time we had you in a fresh, bright, living room and not in a sick room.
We talked about you all the time - were your ears burning? This afternoon it was decided to celebrate your life on Monday at Regina Caeli church. Mum got your clothes ready - your favourite black jeans, your flanalette shirt, your best thongs and your Makita cap. She bought you a new one because the one you always wore is a bit grotty. And .... you know the beanie I knitted for you - the one I finished yesterday? -well you're taking that with you too.
Phil, I want to think about you, but every time I do, I start to cry, so I stop myself. I just feel so sad. All I seem to remember is your little body on the bed and how much you suffered, how quickly you deteriorated - things would literally change over 24 hours.
I'm wishing that I had been with you when you took your last breath. I know we were all in the room with you but we had no idea you were getting ready to leave. I know the nurse had told us that it wouldn't be much longer, but she'd been saying that for days.
So after we turned you onto your side - facing the window, away from us - Mum sat down to read, I picked up my knitting (this time I'm making a scarf for a friend's daughter), Vera and Deb were flicking through a magazine and talking about the fashions at the Royal wedding and Matt and Rose were watching TV.
Mum commented to me that your breathing was quite laboured and I agreed, but as I said to her, that's what you'd been doing all morning. For some reason I stopped knitting and looked over to you. I focussed on your shoulder, looking for the rise and fall of your breathing. There didn't seem to be any, but I told myself that you were so weak that obviously your breathing was too.
Still I wanted to check. I walked around the bed to see you - and you looked different. You weren't moving - but that was because you had taken a deep breath and had not yet exhaled - right? I waited several seconds for you to exhale that breath Phil. But there was no breath - you had gone.
You left silently and privately. Was that because you didn't want to upset Mum? Was it because you didn't want a fuss - you hated being fussed over. But I wouldn't have fussed Phil. I would have just held your hand, stoked your lovely face - gaunt and thin as it was - and thanked you for the honour and the privilege of looking after you for the last seven weeks of your life. I would have wished you well on your journey and thanked God and the angels for finally releasing you from your pain.
I did that anyway Phil. And while you're not here anymore, you're still with me - in my head, in my heart, in my life.
Love,
Silvana xo
Monday, May 9, 2011
R.I.P. Phil
 |
| My brother Phil |
Rest in peace Phil.
We have lost a sweet man.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
We are family
Last night Mum and I felt overwhelmed. While Phil had had a normal sort of day, he became a bit restless by evening so Mum asked if I could stay over and give her a hand. So a quick trip home to pick up pyjamas and toothbrush, give Rob a kiss hello/goodbye and back to Mum's to sit through the night shift.
Phil's night was bad. What was he feeling - was he in pain, was he uncomfortable? He was distressed, we were beside ourselves. By 8am this morning, I'd had about 2 hours sleep and Mum - well I don't think she slept at all.
I felt totally out of my depth and urged Mum to talk to Blue Care about what to do next - should we admit him to hospital or do we perservere with home care? I was tired, a bit frazzled and reacting in fear.
But by the time Jenny and Julie our Care nurses arrived I had been home, freshened up, been taken to coffee by Rob for Mother's Day and calmed down - I was now ready to face a new day for my brother.
Mum has decided that Phil is staying home - this is his wish - and she is going to honour it. And I will honour it too. Blue Care and St Vincents will assist us daily and have been encouraging, kind and understanding.
Our family too are stepping in to help - Matt and Rose (Phil's kids), Anthony and Deb (our younger brother and sister-in-law). My children and spouses Mark and Carmel, Vera and Cameron, Nikki and Dan comfort us with their love, their phone calls and their visits.
Rob, my beautiful partner, is loving and understanding of my need to be with Phil as much as I can.
With their love and support Mum and I will be able to face this next stage of Phil's journey.
Phil's night was bad. What was he feeling - was he in pain, was he uncomfortable? He was distressed, we were beside ourselves. By 8am this morning, I'd had about 2 hours sleep and Mum - well I don't think she slept at all.
I felt totally out of my depth and urged Mum to talk to Blue Care about what to do next - should we admit him to hospital or do we perservere with home care? I was tired, a bit frazzled and reacting in fear.
But by the time Jenny and Julie our Care nurses arrived I had been home, freshened up, been taken to coffee by Rob for Mother's Day and calmed down - I was now ready to face a new day for my brother.
Mum has decided that Phil is staying home - this is his wish - and she is going to honour it. And I will honour it too. Blue Care and St Vincents will assist us daily and have been encouraging, kind and understanding.
Our family too are stepping in to help - Matt and Rose (Phil's kids), Anthony and Deb (our younger brother and sister-in-law). My children and spouses Mark and Carmel, Vera and Cameron, Nikki and Dan comfort us with their love, their phone calls and their visits.
Rob, my beautiful partner, is loving and understanding of my need to be with Phil as much as I can.
With their love and support Mum and I will be able to face this next stage of Phil's journey.
Friday, May 6, 2011
Home alone with Phil
Yesterday was relatively quiet after the busyness of Thursday. So Mum took advantage and went out to do a few chores - pick up meds from the chemist, go to the bank, buy a new washing machine. Yes - in amongst everything that's going on her washing machine stopped working a few days ago. And while it wasn't exactly a priority I do think that she needed some time away - and this was a good excuse.
So when I arrived she was dressed and ready to go. My brother Anthony and his wife were due to arrive from Toowoomba after lunch so she would be back by then.
That meant that I would be home alone with Phil .... and I was a bit nervous. I mean I've been alone with him lots of times before he became bed-ridden and not a problem. But since then, Mum has always been around - either in another room or out in the yard - so if I needed to, I could call her. But now, she would actually be away.
But Phil , as usual, was no trouble. He slept for most of the time and when he did wake I was able to tend to him. His needs are very simple - a drink of water, to be uncovered or covered up, to move a pillow, or to use a tissue. I felt silly that I had been anxious.
It's just that I want to get it right for him. As he gets weaker, his voice has gotten softer and it's sometimes hard to understand when he speaks. We then get a bit frustrated and something that ends up being simple, has caused a bit of angst. My sister-in-law Deb, an aged-care nurse, has shown us how to move him in bed so as not to hurt him, and ourselves, and to get it right the first time. Mum and I just want to make this as easy for him as we can.
Mum needs to go out again today to get groceries. I could offer to go for her, pick them up on my way to her place, save her a trip. But I won't. She needs to get out and do something different, something mundane, mix and mingle with other people.
And I want to be home alone with Phil.
So when I arrived she was dressed and ready to go. My brother Anthony and his wife were due to arrive from Toowoomba after lunch so she would be back by then.
That meant that I would be home alone with Phil .... and I was a bit nervous. I mean I've been alone with him lots of times before he became bed-ridden and not a problem. But since then, Mum has always been around - either in another room or out in the yard - so if I needed to, I could call her. But now, she would actually be away.
But Phil , as usual, was no trouble. He slept for most of the time and when he did wake I was able to tend to him. His needs are very simple - a drink of water, to be uncovered or covered up, to move a pillow, or to use a tissue. I felt silly that I had been anxious.
It's just that I want to get it right for him. As he gets weaker, his voice has gotten softer and it's sometimes hard to understand when he speaks. We then get a bit frustrated and something that ends up being simple, has caused a bit of angst. My sister-in-law Deb, an aged-care nurse, has shown us how to move him in bed so as not to hurt him, and ourselves, and to get it right the first time. Mum and I just want to make this as easy for him as we can.
Mum needs to go out again today to get groceries. I could offer to go for her, pick them up on my way to her place, save her a trip. But I won't. She needs to get out and do something different, something mundane, mix and mingle with other people.
And I want to be home alone with Phil.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
A tough day
How can things move so fast? How can bad cells work so efficiently?
Today has been tough but Mum and I have had lots of support from lots of people. As well as the regular Palliative Care visits, Father John has been to give Phil the Blessing of the Sick and Dennis, the Blue Care chaplain also came for a chat.
We've taken delivery of a hospital bed - we're hoping that having a bed where we can adjust the back up and/or down will make him more comfortable. Once the mattress inflated - it's an air mattress especially designed for pressure points - Rob transferred him from his regular bed onto the new bed.
Up until now Rob hasn't spent a lot of time with Phil due to his own injuries, but today when he dropped me off he decided to stay. It was good for Phil to have another male to assist him with matters of hygiene and to just be blokey with him.
And yet in spite of his illness and very weak state, his wicked sense of humour has not diminished. Before I left tonight I kissed him and called him a sweet man. Without missing a beat he looked at me and said "what drugs are you on?"
But things are moving so fast. He is so weak. As I watch him sleeping I tear up. He does look sweet even though he's so thin and gaunt.
I wish he could stay. I wish he would get better and we could resume our relationship, but this time it would be better. This time I wouldn't leave it so long in between drinks. This time I'll call him regularly, I'll have him over for dinner more often, I'll be more interested in what he does, where he's been. We'll have long talks on our front deck - I'll drink wine, he'll have a bourbon. This time I won't take him for granted.
Unfortunately, life is not reversible.
Today has been tough but Mum and I have had lots of support from lots of people. As well as the regular Palliative Care visits, Father John has been to give Phil the Blessing of the Sick and Dennis, the Blue Care chaplain also came for a chat.
We've taken delivery of a hospital bed - we're hoping that having a bed where we can adjust the back up and/or down will make him more comfortable. Once the mattress inflated - it's an air mattress especially designed for pressure points - Rob transferred him from his regular bed onto the new bed.
Up until now Rob hasn't spent a lot of time with Phil due to his own injuries, but today when he dropped me off he decided to stay. It was good for Phil to have another male to assist him with matters of hygiene and to just be blokey with him.
And yet in spite of his illness and very weak state, his wicked sense of humour has not diminished. Before I left tonight I kissed him and called him a sweet man. Without missing a beat he looked at me and said "what drugs are you on?"
But things are moving so fast. He is so weak. As I watch him sleeping I tear up. He does look sweet even though he's so thin and gaunt.
I wish he could stay. I wish he would get better and we could resume our relationship, but this time it would be better. This time I wouldn't leave it so long in between drinks. This time I'll call him regularly, I'll have him over for dinner more often, I'll be more interested in what he does, where he's been. We'll have long talks on our front deck - I'll drink wine, he'll have a bourbon. This time I won't take him for granted.
Unfortunately, life is not reversible.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Loving Phil
Every day Phil battles his disease. And every day Mum sits by his bed. I watch as she tenderly rubs his back with pawpaw ointment to ease his pain. I watch as she delicately rubs frankincense oil onto his thin legs – it seems to soothe him.
And she watches too. She watches as he sleeps, moves in his sleep, stirs and wakes. She watches and tends to her son. I know what I’m feeling as his sister. I can’t imagine what she’s feeling as his mother.
Matt also watches. During the day he tends to leave Nanna, his dad and me together and then he takes over at night. At the hospital Mum and I were happy to leave him knowing that he would not be alone. Matt had his own bed in Phil’s room and could come and go as he pleased. And he was always there when Phil needed him.
We’re home now. Phil was released from St Vincents this morning and the gentle paramedics from Queensland Ambulance brought him here. Our routine from here on is different. He's in our care now and it's a bit more hands on. We will be assisted and supported by Blue Care, and St Vincents Home Care will call in regularly as well.
This afternoon his mate Jim, who is a barber, came over to spruce him up :-) Phil greeted him warmly and astounded us by sitting in a chair for about half an hour while Jim patiently and lovingly cut his hair and gave him a shave. He looks great and I could tell that he felt good while his friend worked his magic. He smiled, he talked, he admired himself in the mirror and he shook Jim's hand when the job was done.
But tonight, when I said goodnight to him as I left to come home, I felt so sad. I kissed his hands and his face and I told him that I loved him. I have never said that before. He told me that he loved me too and then he told me to go.
Today was a long day for all of us - a mixed day - happy to be home, nervous about tending to him, joy at seeing his transformation, and sadness at the reality of what's happening.
Today I don't know what tomorrow may bring.
And she watches too. She watches as he sleeps, moves in his sleep, stirs and wakes. She watches and tends to her son. I know what I’m feeling as his sister. I can’t imagine what she’s feeling as his mother.
Matt also watches. During the day he tends to leave Nanna, his dad and me together and then he takes over at night. At the hospital Mum and I were happy to leave him knowing that he would not be alone. Matt had his own bed in Phil’s room and could come and go as he pleased. And he was always there when Phil needed him.
We’re home now. Phil was released from St Vincents this morning and the gentle paramedics from Queensland Ambulance brought him here. Our routine from here on is different. He's in our care now and it's a bit more hands on. We will be assisted and supported by Blue Care, and St Vincents Home Care will call in regularly as well.
This afternoon his mate Jim, who is a barber, came over to spruce him up :-) Phil greeted him warmly and astounded us by sitting in a chair for about half an hour while Jim patiently and lovingly cut his hair and gave him a shave. He looks great and I could tell that he felt good while his friend worked his magic. He smiled, he talked, he admired himself in the mirror and he shook Jim's hand when the job was done.
But tonight, when I said goodnight to him as I left to come home, I felt so sad. I kissed his hands and his face and I told him that I loved him. I have never said that before. He told me that he loved me too and then he told me to go.
Today was a long day for all of us - a mixed day - happy to be home, nervous about tending to him, joy at seeing his transformation, and sadness at the reality of what's happening.
Today I don't know what tomorrow may bring.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Sunday with Phil
Phil is still in hospital - he should be home on Tuesday. But first, before they release him, he needs to have another scan.
Today was a good day. When I arrived at the hospital this morning Phil's room was full - full of family, full of love. I had a quiet word to him as he'd been chatting for a while and was tired. So I told him to rest, that there was enough of us to keep ourselves occupied - it was important that he not be stressed. He smiled his sweet smile.
After a while he suggested that we go for a walk to the garden - it has river views and is very pleasant. So, into the wheelchair - water bottle and essentials at the ready - and off we went. Phil sat and chatted with us for about half an hour before he asked to be taken back to his room. I took him and then rejoined the others in the garden. We caught up and left Phil to rest.
When I left, I left feeling happy. Although he'd been asleep for the rest of the afternoon it was restful and quiet. He's been eating, things are happening as they should and it looks like his pain is being managed.
We take every day as it comes. Our younger brother Anthony and his family has noticed a change in seven days and my daughter Vera, who hasn't seen him for a month, found the visit quite emotional.
Phil did well today - he deserved his big sleep. And I hope he now knows how much we love him.
Today, I felt that life is lovely.
Today was a good day. When I arrived at the hospital this morning Phil's room was full - full of family, full of love. I had a quiet word to him as he'd been chatting for a while and was tired. So I told him to rest, that there was enough of us to keep ourselves occupied - it was important that he not be stressed. He smiled his sweet smile.
After a while he suggested that we go for a walk to the garden - it has river views and is very pleasant. So, into the wheelchair - water bottle and essentials at the ready - and off we went. Phil sat and chatted with us for about half an hour before he asked to be taken back to his room. I took him and then rejoined the others in the garden. We caught up and left Phil to rest.
When I left, I left feeling happy. Although he'd been asleep for the rest of the afternoon it was restful and quiet. He's been eating, things are happening as they should and it looks like his pain is being managed.
We take every day as it comes. Our younger brother Anthony and his family has noticed a change in seven days and my daughter Vera, who hasn't seen him for a month, found the visit quite emotional.
Phil did well today - he deserved his big sleep. And I hope he now knows how much we love him.
Today, I felt that life is lovely.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
