Category: Dad

The biggest lesson

10/8/2018

666.

My Family

Dad

The biggest lesson

The biggest lesson
from my trip to New York
was to see my dad
who broke his hip
and almost died
in a different light
then I had thought.

What I saw
was not pleasing
and instead of helping
him to heal
I myself
needed the healing.

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Good advice

8/28/2018

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657. Past

My Family

Dad

Good advice

I know one can learn a lot of lessons from a dad. When your own voice can't be heard you hear his. I recall two bits of advice that don't fail me. Always bring a jacket to a movie or a restaurant. Yes, they do get cold. The second is carry two sets of keys. How often this has served me. I just wish I heard his voice more.

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Dad's 100th

7/20/2018

2 Comments

651.

My Family

Dad

Dad's 100th

Today, July 15th, would have been my dad, Milton Nussdorf, the Cohanan's 100th birthday. He passed over 5 months ago. No big event or celebration was to be had. My sister wanted to celebrate the mark if achieved but later realized it was her goal moreso than his, which was preoccupied with just getting through each day and moment to the next. I think this is accurate. The substance of his life should be thought about today, or just his being acknowledged. Too much whoopla would have covered that up. Thoughts go to you today dad and to the highest essence of your spirit.

(Note: My sister originally posted his would be birthday on Facebook, and the next day I followed with this and felt it was a good concise resolution of sorts. The ups and downs of my relating to my dad are resolved here on a high note which feels and appears where it is meant to be.)

2 Comments

Be here now

7/20/2018

0 Comments

650.

My Family

Dad

Be here now

Years ago Baba Ram Dass wrote the iconic book 'Be here now.' It combined Eastern philosophies of meditation with the needs of modern times. The present moment is all we have was its message. Don't get caught up in the past or future or your mind if you want to stay mentally healthy is also the philosophy for the day.

My dad I heard say he was being punished. Just maintaining himself, putting in and cleaning his lenses, his hearing aid with adjustments, and his teeth took a couple of hours a day. Shopping, when able, even with help was an arduous path across first avenue, where bikes and lights and cars could trample his fragile body. I used to warn him not to fall. If he did that would be the beginning of the end. He did and the end came soon. A broken hip, infections even pneumonia, high blood pressure marked his last year.

I doubt he thought of making it to 100, or even celebrating it that much. In a sense he was busy living in the now. How often in a yoga class I would here that. Here my dad was doing so, but with a twist of irony, and at a high cost.

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He is not eating

10/19/2017

1 Comment

612.

Family

Dad

He is not eating

I heard my dad is just hanging in there. He is not eating and is losing weight. What to do? Doing nothing feels impotent. Throwing oneself into the situation in the past did some damage health wise and was not all that appreciated. Personal strength and resources are limited and I have to use them wisely. Yesterday a neighbor made me some homemade healthy soup with garlic and lemons and lime mixed with chicken and yams and artichoke pasta and more. Perhaps I can figure out a way to send some. Maybe. Maybe not.

Early the next morning in the quiet stillness, with a light reflecting from the above, a coating of protection settled over me, softening the edges, allowing for small steps to be considered, realistic or not so.

1 Comment

Visit to New York for dad

4/23/2017

6 Comments

576

My family

Dad

Visit to New York for dad

The trip to New York started with a call from my brother in law hinting the end might be near. Dad, after being in rehab for high blood pressure, and subsequently a broken hip, was waving his hands as if in a trance. He then recited Kaddish, the prayer for the dead.

The trip was not what I thought. The possible end was not dignified or honorable. He lay helpless before strangers who had to wipe and clean his private places. He was not always pleasant and some were a little rough with him at night with no one around.

Physical therapists motivated dad through tease and allurement. “Stand up for me Milton, I'm your woman,” is an example. His body lost weight, silently voting that it was tired of all this. Still, the machine enticed him to continue, prodding him, promising him what couldn't be delivered.

All along there were tender moments where he said he 'loved me,' or stated he was proud of me. Various individuals stand out with small heroic efforts, both to him and myself. Some provided hope. Some intuited my difficult position with him and the family dynamics. Ongoing honest and sincere communication could not take place in that environment between dad and I.

A messy life had led to a messy end now in a messy environment. He neither really improved nor got worse, but stayed in limbo. Funding for his care was an issue. Outside forces had control of the answers.

I raged against God because of this outcome. Could not the end be as I imagined it? Could there not be honor and order.

It was not all bad. There was some good. There was also disappointment. As a son I traveled to be near my dad for what could have been the last time. The system seemed to get in the way of our simple communication. There was no time to absorb and process what was happening. I was kept off balance.

If there is a lesson, it is another lonely one. The warmth of touch, of familiarity, and the miracle of being around the man whose seed I came from was not the priority. Righting the heritage and legacy also wasn't. Family, the miracle of continuation and roots dating back to the beginning, should have been center stage. It wasn't. Instead, the practical and mundane was often center stage.

Probably God wanted the attention to go in his direction. This must be the core, the real reason behind what I saw and experienced. Still, absorbing one more dose of isolation and lost dreams of how it should have been felt like too much weight on my tired shoulders.

6 Comments

Sledding 2

2/5/2017

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573.

Family

Dad

Sledding 2

( A follow up to Sledding 1)

I spoke to my dad again by phone during one of his last days in rehab. It again was snowing lightly in New York and he mentioned that he saw snowflakes. I told him I'm going to send to him a writing I did on the snow and his secret desire to go sledding and how I desired to go up there and buy a sled and go with him. He didn't hear everything I said but I think he got the gist.

I told him my friend Bev read the writing and recalled how she loved sledding in Brooklyn. I then said I recalled him telling me there was a hill about two blocks long that he and his friends had a great time sledding down.

He responded, “Oh Steve, this is so great that you remembered this. You are wonderful.” He said more and it came out of him like a kid being told what favorite candy he likes. In other words, something gave him pleasure and I saw it was important enough for me to notice and remember what this was and he was almost embarrassed by my attention to detail. Somehow his pleasure was as big as the joy of the universe and I witnessed it.

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The call

12/25/2016

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557.

Family

Dad

The call

Well, the call finally came. My brother in law, Elliott, who rarely calls, said dad (the 98 year old Cohanan) went in for a back check up and they found his heart rate very high and he went to ER immediately and is now in a rehab facility on Verrick St., Manhattan, New York.

Last June when I was in New York dad seemed a bit more fragile, did not use buses anymore, and did not follow through on many things he said he would. The latter was nothing new but more noticeable. Still, he was able to present himself well and was enthusiastic about pushing the book on my mom I put together. He still got around but he did rest a lot. He had a mucus problem and after I left a skin rash problem which made him more reluctant to mingle with certain people and hence avoid any presentation for the book. Although he thought he ate well, too many breakfasts at the diner added too much bad food to his system in my opinion. His body was just trying to get rid of the greases and processed junk he couldn't use. As we get older we can afford fewer mistakes. He was strong so he got away with a lot.

In the following months we had some nice phone conversations but I noticed I was the one usually to call. If I waited over a week usually I still would not receive a call. It somewhat hurt that I wasn't part of his reaching out. Probably he felt a pull from me to still be certain things he hadn't. He also felt some of my fears and didn't want to deal with them. We often spoke of health concerns and doing positive things about it, but perhaps this pressured him. He would always say “I'll do what I can.” Part of this is father son dynamics. A son always holds a father accountable and always wants to look up to him, which in a shortsighted sense can be a burden . His dad had left him at 13 and I'm sure the give and take of father and son was not experienced.

Later there were multitudes of doctor visits for the eyes, the hearing, the mucus, the skin and so on. My sister, Gail, accompanied him for most. If the same energy had been used on serious juicing I think that would have helped. It becomes clearer certain configurations are very hard to change. It is sometimes difficult for me to see because I have to do so much to maintain my health at a functional level and even then fall short, and my father would have to do so much less to maintain his stronger constitution.   And worse, my lessons served no larger purpose or were benefited from.   He did respond and make certain efforts. He read a daily health newsletter I sent but changing his daily routine was another matter. Habits were not easy to alter.

About a month ago I received on Sunday a short email from my sister saying dad burnt a sneaker he was trying to dry off in the oven. Hmmmmm.   Quite a bit open ended. No explanation was given. So implied was at any point he could start a fire and burn himself and all the belongings in the apartment, including many of my paintings. Mid week I decided to call and find out somewhat aggressively what was behind this. He deflected my probing and talked about the book and plans to promote it. When I persisted, he became defensive and made it clear his thinking was okay and that he just made a bad mistake and that he usually is careful. We always spoke about the danger of falling and avoiding household accidents. I said once you're in the hospital there's little I can do. Crossing first avenue was always a real challenge for anyone. I ended the conversation saying “it sounds as if your are in control but just made a bad mistake.' I'm not sure if I believed that. Maybe I wanted to.

I called him back minutes after we hung up as I sometimes do. It was an excuse to speak to him. At times I felt emotionally incomplete after a conversation and would fish for what was missing. Sometimes I found it, sometimes not. This time there was a void. He seemed tired and not willing to converse. Often, and it is hard to admit this, there is simply not enough energy in the pot for a full fledged give and take. Yesterday, after I spoke to him briefly via phone when he was in rehab, my brother in law got on the phone and I said dad did all the talking, or 90% percent of it, so I still didn't know if his hearing aids were working. Elliott said that's true, but it also had to do with the energy it took from him to have a simple conversation.   Perhaps all along, at least for a time, this had been the reality. He simply did not have the physical strength. He covered it up well, and I believed it and maybe didn't want to admit that.

Before being in rehab, dad's status was less certain. It was day by day knowing how he would be. I went through a myriad of feelings.   I recall reading that when mourning most people have pity on themselves, not for the person gone or sick. This was the case with me. Although we did not always get along, he was my dad, my dreams and history were tied to him, my early family memories the same and he was still a presence to whom my existence mattered. I feared I would be alone in the world. Everyone was out for themselves in a way. I was concerned with home care using up whatever might come my way. My father wanted control and did not plan ahead for this. I would miss our weekly calls. He kept alive the memory of mom, the history of our lives, the house and the entire growing up experience.

Even so, part of me had begun to build a small wall around myself not wanting any more hurt. I could not fully be my father's son. I had to define myself independently of that. Family did not fully define me, like it or not. Modern life and it's existential twist did not make special allowances for me. I had to pursue my own fate. The tribe did not fully act as one. What a lonely feeling.

With him gone my world would get smaller. He might have been pollyanna at times, but he was my pollyanna father. If I accomplished something, he would not be there to see. With him gone he would not witness my 'saving' the family.   Plus, I planned to get more done and established at this point. Tons of stuff would have to be gone through, and this would take mounds of time. Yes, getting things done before any loss was important. Not much of my empathy went for his suffering or trials. I mentioned this to a friend and they said this is natural. Our own fears and doubts are forefront and we can't pretend they are not. We are self involved creatures, at least in this landscape.

Saturday my brother law called from the rehab center and put dad on the phone. It was the first time we spoke. I said 'hi' and t hen listened. His voice was higher for some unknown reason. He said he loved me very much and that he was very proud of me. He said I did a remarkable job on mom's book. He said Gail and Elliott would be in touch with me. Again he said he loved me very much and was so proud of me. Then he got off. What he said in an aging voice was sweet, very sweet.

My sister sent a couple of pics of him, sleeping and sipping a drink. He was dressed neatly. He had done upper chest stretching before. His voice to me sounded weak, very weak. He is on medications, something we used to talk about avoiding.

For most this happens to them when younger. Because I am somewhat alone, perhaps the maker has kept him around for longer. I had told him a few times 'we still need you.' Anyhow, sometimes today I'll receive a call from Elliott and he'll put dad on. Dad telling me 'he loves me' means a lot. I can hear it many times. I'll wait and hope for the best and try to get things done while I can.

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Letting go

2/26/2015

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287. Past

Parents

Dad

Letting go

Dad told me
about early
stick ball games
how good he was
how he could place the ball
pull it down the line
picked often because he was lefty
and played first.

Oh dad
time is short
and I'll never know all about you.
To look back at the years
to get inside you as you were
is good but also hurts my insides.

I have to let go and move forward
but I'm not always sure
if letting go of your image
maybe means letting go forever.

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Dad listened to me

10/25/2014

2 Comments

227. Past

My family

Dad

Dad listened to me

On a Saturday morning the day after my mom's funeral I had a breakthrough with my dad. As of late he has become at times very stubborn and “impossible” and would not listen to any advice or correction. My mom's passing softened his manners but he still needed control. He played up to and pleased outsiders but my sister Gail and I received the brunt of his authoritarianism. It was hard to help him sometimes. Sitting on the couch this morning he was quiet and sad looking. I asked him how he was and he answered that he was ambivalent. He said “he was with mom for 67 years and everything he did related to her. I guess we have to go on to maintain ourselves.”

I answered it is not enough to simply go on blindly. In a counseling tone rarely used I said you're going to have to mourn mom properly. If you eliminate yourself, her life and also her loss would not be fully appreciated. To do this requires you maintain yourself for a period of time. After this you have to see if her life and loss can carry over into your life. Can her light shine and open some door for you? Is there a new quality to be realized? Can her loss open some new door to understanding? As we said, she prepared us for when she would be gone. Now that she is gone, and we are free from nursing her ailing body, are we to see something previously unseen? Are we to voyage to some unknown realization?

This is your reason to maintain yourself and go on.

He said it is important to go on for me and Gail. I agreed but the first two reasons come first. That is your base. Later we can be added. You have to have your own deep reasons to continue to live. He sat, took it all in, and this was a first for dad and I.
Thank you mom.

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The biggest lesson

Good advice

Dad's 100th

Be here now

He is not eating

Visit to New York for dad

Sledding 2

The call

Letting go

Dad listened to me

Steven B. Nussdorf records his lifelong search to find meaning outside of the normal channels. He uses writing, poetry, and drawing to document this effort.

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