My brother and his family left Sundy morning and my mom just left tonight.
Everyone is gone.
My sister drove my mom to the airport and I went along. We are always tired on the drive home, but it is nice to spend that time together.
Though I am looking forward to some extra quiet, it is hard to say goodbye. I miss my family so much!
--------------------------------------------------------------------
On a completely different note, Hannah, from A Mother in Israel, popped over today, with her husband and four of her kids. They spent the morning touring Herodion and, on their way back, took a three minute detour to come visit us. We could have talked for hours, but we made do with a half hour visit, by which time her kids were ready to go and mine needed some attention from me. It was great to hang out, even for a short while.
Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.
With love and optimism,
RivkA
Showing posts with label family visits. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family visits. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Regret & Relief
My parents left last Monday night.
I am always sad when they go.
I woke up Tuesday morning and the house seemed so quiet.
For weeks, when I woke up, I saw my Mom or Dad, sitting in the kitchen or dining room. Now, the house seemed empty without them.
My dad was really sick almost the entire time he was here.
These days, when my dad comes to Israel, he does not really vacation. He spends most of his time working on his computer. Still, we spend all the "in-between times" together. We eat our meals together, and talk when he has a few minutes of down time (like when he's waiting for a file to download). And, of course, we spend Shabbatot and Chagim together.
One of the things both my sister and I really look forward to is cooking with our father. Working with my dad, on anything, is always fun. Whatever he does, he does with energy and a positive attitude. My dad can turn eating a humus sandwich into an adventure. ("Wow, look at that beautiful tomato! That is going to taste absolutely fantastic on this sandwich!") His enthusiasm is contagious!
My dad did almost no work this visit. Do not be fooled; that is not a good thing.
When I realized my dad was not doing any work, I realized he must be REALLY SICK. I felt so bad for him. And I felt pretty sorry for us. I did not get to work on any of the small projects that I planned to do with my dad.
Ever since I was a little girl, I was "daddy's helper." My dad is colorblind, so when he would build electrical things, I would sit at the table and help him sort through the diodes and resistors, which were all color coordinated. To this day, there is nothing I like more that to build/fix something with my dad. I had all sorts of small jobs for us (attaching a light fixture, hanging up mirrors, etc). Nothing too big, or time consuming. Just some small, but very helpful, tasks that we could do together. Needless to say, we did not get to do any of them.
The second best thing I like to do with my father is play Pente. We did get to play, a bit. But he was so sick (and out of practice), that I beat him almost every game. We are, more or less, evenly matched, but he really is better than me. So, if he were just out of practice, we should each win about half the time. I was winning a lot more than that, and it just was not fair.
One good thing about having my dad here is that he helps make sure I treat my mom right.
Overall, I had a good visit with my mom. I tried really hard to behave well and, for the most part, I think I succeeded. (We'll have to ask her what she thinks!)
Unfortunately, my mom spent a lot of the visit being worried about my dad. And then, towards the end, my mom got sick too! So, she was almost as much fun as my dad! (Not!)
When I was a kid, my dad almost never took vacation. On the rare occasions that he did, he almost always got sick. It was almost like a bad joke. So, when it happens nowadays, we all laugh at it. Despite their being sick, we did have some nice times. And we did share stories and laugh about all sorts of things.
The house is certainly quieter, now that they are gone. And there are less people to worry about (less food to cook, less dirty dishes, less laundry, etc).
In some ways, I am glad they are gone. At the same time, I wish they were still here.
I miss my parents a lot.
When my parents arrived, my kids (read: my daughters) had their beds all set up, including moving in an extra bed frame, a box spring, and a mattress, into my youngest daughter's room.
By the time I got home from the airport, the girls had moved everything back (and changed the sheets).
In that simple action, they erased my parents' presence. My parents disappeared, without a trace.
Life went "back to normal" (at least, as normal as it ever gets around here).
Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.
With love and optimism,
RivkA
I am always sad when they go.
I woke up Tuesday morning and the house seemed so quiet.
For weeks, when I woke up, I saw my Mom or Dad, sitting in the kitchen or dining room. Now, the house seemed empty without them.
My dad was really sick almost the entire time he was here.
These days, when my dad comes to Israel, he does not really vacation. He spends most of his time working on his computer. Still, we spend all the "in-between times" together. We eat our meals together, and talk when he has a few minutes of down time (like when he's waiting for a file to download). And, of course, we spend Shabbatot and Chagim together.
One of the things both my sister and I really look forward to is cooking with our father. Working with my dad, on anything, is always fun. Whatever he does, he does with energy and a positive attitude. My dad can turn eating a humus sandwich into an adventure. ("Wow, look at that beautiful tomato! That is going to taste absolutely fantastic on this sandwich!") His enthusiasm is contagious!
My dad did almost no work this visit. Do not be fooled; that is not a good thing.
When I realized my dad was not doing any work, I realized he must be REALLY SICK. I felt so bad for him. And I felt pretty sorry for us. I did not get to work on any of the small projects that I planned to do with my dad.
Ever since I was a little girl, I was "daddy's helper." My dad is colorblind, so when he would build electrical things, I would sit at the table and help him sort through the diodes and resistors, which were all color coordinated. To this day, there is nothing I like more that to build/fix something with my dad. I had all sorts of small jobs for us (attaching a light fixture, hanging up mirrors, etc). Nothing too big, or time consuming. Just some small, but very helpful, tasks that we could do together. Needless to say, we did not get to do any of them.
The second best thing I like to do with my father is play Pente. We did get to play, a bit. But he was so sick (and out of practice), that I beat him almost every game. We are, more or less, evenly matched, but he really is better than me. So, if he were just out of practice, we should each win about half the time. I was winning a lot more than that, and it just was not fair.
One good thing about having my dad here is that he helps make sure I treat my mom right.
Overall, I had a good visit with my mom. I tried really hard to behave well and, for the most part, I think I succeeded. (We'll have to ask her what she thinks!)
Unfortunately, my mom spent a lot of the visit being worried about my dad. And then, towards the end, my mom got sick too! So, she was almost as much fun as my dad! (Not!)
When I was a kid, my dad almost never took vacation. On the rare occasions that he did, he almost always got sick. It was almost like a bad joke. So, when it happens nowadays, we all laugh at it. Despite their being sick, we did have some nice times. And we did share stories and laugh about all sorts of things.
The house is certainly quieter, now that they are gone. And there are less people to worry about (less food to cook, less dirty dishes, less laundry, etc).
In some ways, I am glad they are gone. At the same time, I wish they were still here.
I miss my parents a lot.
When my parents arrived, my kids (read: my daughters) had their beds all set up, including moving in an extra bed frame, a box spring, and a mattress, into my youngest daughter's room.
By the time I got home from the airport, the girls had moved everything back (and changed the sheets).
In that simple action, they erased my parents' presence. My parents disappeared, without a trace.
Life went "back to normal" (at least, as normal as it ever gets around here).
Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.
With love and optimism,
RivkA
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Car Crisis
I thought I was so smart, and responsible.
I did not want my car to break down during Sukkot (like it did last Pesach).
I had planned on taking my car in yesterday (Monday). That would have given me an extra day, in case something went wrong. (little did I know...)
But I was too wiped out from Chemo; I could not drag myself out of the house. (I was so exhausted, even after I napped, I almost cancelled swimming lessons. Thank God, I really pushed myself. .The moment I entered the water, I felt much better.)
If I wanted to take care of the car before my parents arrived, I had to do it this morning.
I brought my car to the shop, in Talpiot, around 9:15 am. After I dropped off my car, my friend, RD, picked me up and we drove to Malcha Mall, since both of us had errands to do there.
I needed to repair several broken mobile phones -- another thing I wanted to take care of before my parents got here.
We dropped off the phones, went to the hardware store, then to Sambuki's (on the first floor of the mall). We ate these yummy, freshly baked, "pizza-like" things: tasty, crusty dough, topped with a generous portion of pesto, Bulgarian cheese, sun-dried tomatoes, and roasted peppers. Delicious!
Then we picked up the phones, left the mall, did a few more quick errands, and headed back to Talpiot.
We had just parked the car, when Moshe called.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, with concern in his voice.
Now, my husband is a sensitive guy, and all that, but something was wrong.
"What's going on?" I asked, suspiciously.
"Well, a few minutes ago, everyone, and I mean everyone, on the first floor of Malcha Mall started coughing uncontrollably. They are evacuating the area...." he continuted, "How are you feeling.
Pretty freaky.
Besides the scratchy throat, from post-nasal drip, that I had for several days, I felt fine. (Though you know how it is... you start to wonder....)
"Please let me know," I answered, "if we need to go get checked out."
I found out later, someone released tear gas in the mall. (I do not know any more details. Sorry for the Hebrew only link)
It was pretty spooky to know that we were just there, and missed the attack by a matter of minutes.
Back to the mundane: my car was not ready.
The car shop gave us coupons for coffee and a danish, so, we went to the Talpiot Mall (Kanyon Yisrael), had a coffee (sans chemo!), and wandered around some of the shops. But there is only so much shopping you can do. (At least, there is only so much shopping I can do)
We went back to the car shop to wait.
Eventually, RD had to go.
I waited another two hours.
In hindsight, I should have gone back with her. I could have been with my kids for two hours, and taken a cab back when the car was ready. Oh, well.
But that's not the worst of it.
"What do you want first," asked the agent, when he finally approached me with the keys to my car, "the good news or the bad news?"
"Bad news first," I answered, naively unaware of the hammer that was about to fall.
There is something wrong with the computer that controls the break system (ABS). Replacing it will cost around 7,000 NIS, not including taxes and labor!
"How can that be?" I ask, shocked beyond imagination. "How can it be so expensive?"
"You will let me know what you decide," he replied gently.
(I am wondering, is he suggesting that I drive around with a faulty break system?)
There was more.
"We did not get a chance to fix some of the other problems," he continued, "You will have to bring the car in again."
Great.
There goes my great plan of servicing the car before my parents get here...
I left the shop at 5:15, exhausted, both physically and emotionally.
On the way home, just after I picked up my son, my daughter called. My parents' plane landed an hour early; my sister already picked them up. They would arrive at my home within the hour.
So much for starting off our visit on the right foot!
I focused on my breathing and tried to stay calm, as I tidied up whatever I could, before they arrived.
God bless my daughters. A cleaned her room and Y set up the beds, before I even got home! Everyone pitched in to help.
God bless my parents. They did not say a word about the mess when they walked in the door!
Though chaotic, the evening went surprisingly well.
The house is quiet.
The kids are sleeping peacefully.
All four grown-ups (Moshe, my mom, my dad, and I) are each doing our own thing, on our own computers.
I guess that is as good a way as any to end the day....
The car will have to wait another few days.
I'll bring it back to the shop on Sunday, on my way to chemo....
Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.
With love and optimism,
RivkA
I did not want my car to break down during Sukkot (like it did last Pesach).
I had planned on taking my car in yesterday (Monday). That would have given me an extra day, in case something went wrong. (little did I know...)
But I was too wiped out from Chemo; I could not drag myself out of the house. (I was so exhausted, even after I napped, I almost cancelled swimming lessons. Thank God, I really pushed myself. .The moment I entered the water, I felt much better.)
If I wanted to take care of the car before my parents arrived, I had to do it this morning.
I brought my car to the shop, in Talpiot, around 9:15 am. After I dropped off my car, my friend, RD, picked me up and we drove to Malcha Mall, since both of us had errands to do there.
I needed to repair several broken mobile phones -- another thing I wanted to take care of before my parents got here.
We dropped off the phones, went to the hardware store, then to Sambuki's (on the first floor of the mall). We ate these yummy, freshly baked, "pizza-like" things: tasty, crusty dough, topped with a generous portion of pesto, Bulgarian cheese, sun-dried tomatoes, and roasted peppers. Delicious!
Then we picked up the phones, left the mall, did a few more quick errands, and headed back to Talpiot.
We had just parked the car, when Moshe called.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, with concern in his voice.
Now, my husband is a sensitive guy, and all that, but something was wrong.
"What's going on?" I asked, suspiciously.
"Well, a few minutes ago, everyone, and I mean everyone, on the first floor of Malcha Mall started coughing uncontrollably. They are evacuating the area...." he continuted, "How are you feeling.
Pretty freaky.
Besides the scratchy throat, from post-nasal drip, that I had for several days, I felt fine. (Though you know how it is... you start to wonder....)
"Please let me know," I answered, "if we need to go get checked out."
I found out later, someone released tear gas in the mall. (I do not know any more details. Sorry for the Hebrew only link)
It was pretty spooky to know that we were just there, and missed the attack by a matter of minutes.
Back to the mundane: my car was not ready.
The car shop gave us coupons for coffee and a danish, so, we went to the Talpiot Mall (Kanyon Yisrael), had a coffee (sans chemo!), and wandered around some of the shops. But there is only so much shopping you can do. (At least, there is only so much shopping I can do)
We went back to the car shop to wait.
Eventually, RD had to go.
I waited another two hours.
In hindsight, I should have gone back with her. I could have been with my kids for two hours, and taken a cab back when the car was ready. Oh, well.
But that's not the worst of it.
"What do you want first," asked the agent, when he finally approached me with the keys to my car, "the good news or the bad news?"
"Bad news first," I answered, naively unaware of the hammer that was about to fall.
There is something wrong with the computer that controls the break system (ABS). Replacing it will cost around 7,000 NIS, not including taxes and labor!
"How can that be?" I ask, shocked beyond imagination. "How can it be so expensive?"
"You will let me know what you decide," he replied gently.
(I am wondering, is he suggesting that I drive around with a faulty break system?)
There was more.
"We did not get a chance to fix some of the other problems," he continued, "You will have to bring the car in again."
Great.
There goes my great plan of servicing the car before my parents get here...
I left the shop at 5:15, exhausted, both physically and emotionally.
On the way home, just after I picked up my son, my daughter called. My parents' plane landed an hour early; my sister already picked them up. They would arrive at my home within the hour.
So much for starting off our visit on the right foot!
I focused on my breathing and tried to stay calm, as I tidied up whatever I could, before they arrived.
God bless my daughters. A cleaned her room and Y set up the beds, before I even got home! Everyone pitched in to help.
God bless my parents. They did not say a word about the mess when they walked in the door!
Though chaotic, the evening went surprisingly well.
The house is quiet.
The kids are sleeping peacefully.
All four grown-ups (Moshe, my mom, my dad, and I) are each doing our own thing, on our own computers.
I guess that is as good a way as any to end the day....
The car will have to wait another few days.
I'll bring it back to the shop on Sunday, on my way to chemo....
Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.
With love and optimism,
RivkA
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