by Allison Moore | Mar 20, 2016 | Day by Day |
“The brain is wider than the sky.” Emily Dickinson
Late Friday night, I was informed that Vernon had been sent to the ER again because he’d pulled his G-Tube out. It was no big deal, they fixed him up and sent him home. I didn’t need to be there. But I’m paying attention: the last couple of times he’s gone to the ER, there has been a depression link, so I am hoping that what is now being prescribed is helping rather than hindering. The doctor has slightly bumped up the dose for now, but he also mentioned that some antidepressants can increase anxiety so we might be seeing some of that.
I’m finding if I can coax him into a tender place, if we focus on big abstract things like love and romance or his dedication to his family, he is more likely to connect intellectually. I’ve had some marvelous conversations with him lately. Sometimes I’ve managed to write down on my phone’s memo-app what he says, but if I miss it the first time, he doesn’t like to repeat himself. When I can connect with him on this level, I recognize more of the Vernon I used to know: a philosopher of sorts, very sharp and intuitive in his ability to read people. He’s even given me some advice lately that I’ve decided to respect. That’s it: I recognize the part of him I miss most.
It does come in waves, but it’s remarkable to be access him in these conversations. Each conversation is totally different, mind you—some are still very short and random. I’m also learning that in finding this honest and connected space with him, I must leave room to transition him back out of it so he doesn’t become volatile when I have to leave. Twice this week, I’ve been late for school pick-up because he became violently upset when I stood to go. This mostly seems to happen if we’ve connected from the heart. I must be more mindful of the time. It’s like he’s been warmed up in a nice bath, the put out alone in the wind. It’s heartbreaking for both of us.
Vernon is bringing up ‘home’ again. He wants to be with us on the couch, he says. He wants to be with his family. The other day, he told me he had a dream of when we were first were together, that I had left him and he was desperately hoping it wouldn’t end. Later, he kept asking what will he do when I send him back to England alone. Who will take care of him? I assured him I wasn’t leaving him, but I was thankful to know exactly what he is experiencing. I think its loneliness and the fear of separation. Incidentally, separation anxiety was something Vernon had struggled with in his life.
So I wonder how much of that is a new thing or an old thing? But it seems positive that he is expressing his psychological thought. Just as his family are learning to stay in the strange frenetic space between grief and joy, disappointment and hope, he may be learning it too. It’s a sign to me that his still in there. It’s amazing what stays a part of a person when other things leave.
But mostly I see love. That is always there. It’s been remarkable to think about it. Vernon has been teaching me remember it in myself and look for it in others. It’s what every human being has in common: every single person has loved ones. Every single person loves and is loved. It doesn’t leave our bodies until we’re gone. We should spend more time accessing that while we are here.
(PS…That doesn’t make it easy. But it makes it better.)
by Allison Moore | Mar 19, 2016 | Day by Day |
Pattie, my friend who own the Art Supply, had called me earlier in the week with a lead on a potential photography gig. A local artist wanted to have his work shot and would I call him? His name was James Hill. Though I didn’t know him personally, I knew a little bit about his studio because Vernon and Chris had met him and his wife on their quest to find local studio space for their business. I’d also walked by the front window of their space a few times myself and was curious, so this lead felt like a gift.
I arranged to meet James in my noon pocket. My hands were still blotchy with last-minute backdrop paint from the theatre, so I probably didn’t look very professional going in. Turns out I didn’t need to be concerned. He told me, “I gotta be honest with you. I needed you, but now I don’t. I had lost touch with the photographer who has shot my work for years and then I found his number again. I’m sorry.”
“I’ll be honest too, ” I replied. “It’s okay. I can photograph whatever is necessary, but what I really like to take is portraits. Your work and your studio are so interesting. I haven’t met your wife yet, but she seems so interesting too. What do you think of the idea of my taking pictures of you around your work and maybe we can do a story or something…for a paper or whatever. If nothing else, my blog. What do you think?”
I don’t know what he thought of it. I was gushing a little and it might have been hard to keep up. But he did let me take some pictures then and there.
So far, I only knew about this couple from a story Vernon had once related and passing the jazz-squirrel instillation in the front windows (*more on that later.) I was thrilled to be given the chance to peek in further. We talked a little about art and stuff, then I noticed a folded newspaper page with a photograph of a brain. I can’t help it, these day if I see a picture of a brain or a kidney, I always assume its a sign. I asked if I could take a quick photo of it. James obliged.
I was thinking: what a great image—something like, “this is your brain (or half a brain) on art.”
But then we started talking about the newspaper photo. “I wonder if that’s what my brain would look like,” said James. “Sometimes I wonder how much of it is good anymore. I’ve been hit in the head a lot of times in my life. And my doctor says I don’t have Alzheimer’s. But my brain and my memory fails me so often, I worry.” He then went on to give me the name of a good neurosurgeon at UC Irvine. I wrote down her name, just in case.
Who knows why we meet the people we meet? So many stories, most of them not available to us. But it always a privilege to connect when we do, and the things we find in common may surprise us.
I hope to spend some more time with James and next time, meet his wife. In the meantime, I was right about Pattie’s lead being a gift. It was exactly that today.
*Remember I mentioned the jazz-squirrels? I haven’t forgotten. These photos will give you a better idea. Enjoy!
by Allison Moore | Mar 16, 2016 | Day by Day |
Hudson, the youngest of the Logie clan (the family who brings us music), was hospitalized last weekend for a collapsed lung. Maki, who considers Hudson one of his good pals, was in the desert, so I texted him the news. He knew a little about this condition because the older brother of his best friend at school experienced it too. From what we understand, its very painful.
As soon as he got back on Sunday night, Maki asked when we were going up to see him. “We can’t NOT go, Ali! After all that family has done for us, we have to go. I’m going to make a care package for him right now. Let’s go after school tomorrow.” And he disappeared into the chaos of his bedroom to collect gifts for his friend.
In his Star Wars opening-night popcorn bucket, he packed: a Union Jack as well as a Norwegian flag, an old polaroid of Hudson that seems to be a running joke between them, a couple of joke and novelty books (including the Zombie Survival Guide and How to F This Test), a candy bar, a lava lamp, and a snorkel. What else does a teenage boy need? (He also packed an old DS, but forgot the games, so he took it out later.)
Hudson had surgery on his lung Monday night, so we waited till yesterday and went straight from school. It took us about two hours in the rush hour traffic, but Maki didn’t seem to mind the drive. He had a friend to get to. Hudson was weak and groggy, but he seemed to appreciate the company. They played cards and then we took a walk around the ward with him.
I must say the lava lamp did wonders for the hospital room. Maki said it brought it to ‘help the vibe.’
It was so great to see Hudson on the recovery side of a very painful and scary situation, but it was also great to see Maki acting in such a way. I don’t know for sure, but I like to think his willingness to respond so quickly to a hospitalized friend is something he has learned on our family’s journey. There have been people who showed up for us. And maybe this is how we learn to show up for others. Golden.
Hope you feel better soon, Hudson. The worst part is over, and you’ll be back making music and general mischief soon. We love you.
by Allison Moore | Mar 14, 2016 | Day by Day |
Justine’s kindergarten class is in the midst of a ‘show and tell’ month. Each child was asked to talk about a special person in their life and bring objects, photos, and drawings to help describe him or her. The child would have five minutes to share and answer questions. Today was Justine’s turn.
She decided to talk about her dad, so yesterday she took a couple of the photos still hanging on Vernon’s wall, then we went home and found some more. It was interesting to see her choosing the photos of herself with him, even when she was a tiny baby. She chose the pictures of us together, everyone looking so much younger. She chose the pictures of him cuddling her and Maki. She didn’t want to bring the pictures of Vernon after the accident, even though she still smiled at the ones of them together.
She wasn’t so interested in talking about his job or the accident. She wanted to express how good he was at things (Vespa, bikes, soccer, talking in an English accent) and how much he obviously liked to carry her. I think Vernon would love nothing more than to be remembered for how much he loved his family—especially to be remembered that way by his kids.
by Allison Moore | Mar 13, 2016 | Day by Day |
I want to say thank you to all the readers who have reached out to me in encouragement and support, often sharing personal stories of their own. I know I don’t often get back to the posts and emails, but I do read each one. I have been deeply touched to read your words. I’m moved and grateful. It’s been a very strange season-within-a-season lately and knowing I’m not alone in it, knowing my trying to process my thoughts about Vernon’s (and our family’s) situation at least makes sense to others is incredibly validating.
It’s a mystery how Vernon can sway from the edge of death (in my eyes) to progressive clarity in a day. It’s a mystery why some days are better than others. Holding all that flux in one’s head…from death to life…from grief to gratitude…suffering to joy…and then potentially back again in a moment. It’s a bizarre thing: keeping one reality close to your heart while you are experiencing the opposite. There somehow is space in the human heart to experience all of this at once. Although we try to avoid it, when we experience it (especially in honest company with other caring people) we realize this IS the human experience.
Ok…that was meant to be my introduction to a whole other set of thoughts, but I’m so long-winded, it became a blog post in itself.
Ok, here’s Part 2… (with a nice picture of Vernon today to break things up.)
I must give some credit where it is due. That really hard Saturday a week ago, when Vernon was hitting bottom, I wasn’t alone. My dear life-friend Nicole was with me. After he left dialysis without ever getting plugged in, I tearfully grieved for hours. I’m sure it felt better because she was with me. She came again on Tuesday: we marveled together as Vernon so lucidly spoke about wanting to connect with friends on Facebook and with his son. My mind was blown, but I wasn’t alone—she was there too. Sometimes it’s sitting in the confusion together. You can’t make heads or tails…but you aren’t the only one.
I got some special emails from friends this week. Friends of Vernon, others, my own. Rainbow, whom I haven’t seen for over ten years, asked if she could drive down from LA and visit me? I told her I had a free dialysis day. She’d never met Vernon, but she showed up, donned her yellow gown, and hung out with us for the two hours. She then took me to lunch and told me a very heavy story about her own journey over the past years: it was different to mine, but filled with ups and downs and prayer. I could relate completely.
photo credit: Vernon
Last night, another art school friend, Clay, texted that he and his wife were in town. How random! We met for breakfast this morning on the pier. I haven’t seen him in over twenty years, but we’d recently been in more touch because he also suffers from kidney issues. Dialysis and transplant list —what an ice-breaker after all these years, right? Just kidding, we mostly talked about the acting world and our old friends. But I was touched that in this week, several old friends from that period of my life had shown up. That period was a lifetime ago, but yet there is proof that I met some really awesome people during that time. And they’ve had struggles too. I was never alone.
Photo credit: Justine 🙂
To top it off, Melissa came today…playing guitar and singing for Vernon while she let her son run around in the courtyard with Justine. I only hoped the shrieking of children hiding under their windows was more endearing than annoying to the patients in those rooms. Melissa and I have been close for a long time, so we are comfortable moving in and out of each other’s thought lives: the painful and the joyful. She can come crack jokes and sing delightful songs to Vernon and yet at the same time, she runs a blog about the grief of miscarriage.
It just so happens that Justine has recently joined a theatre group. Its just a tiny space back in an industrial park by the freeway. I hadn’t even considered this sort of thing until a friend (who knows Justine well) suggested the connection. I tentatively brought her to the rehearsal, just sitting and watching with her, figuring it could go either way. But within the first few minutes of being introduced to the other kids, she felt the acceptance. She also felt the magic as she watched them playing on the stage. It was amazing to watch her start this connection with a new community. I remembered feeling some of that myself when I was young and then through the years: all those plays, all those weirdos I loved being around, all that openness, collaboration, acceptance. It suddenly became a good thing again, a pure thing.
So she’s in her first play next weekend. But it’s not about the play. It’s about the connections. That part never goes away…but it may go deeper than we know.
The ducklings figuring out their props/costumes. The show is based on The Ugly Duckling
