Ask. Listen. Call it out.

I've shed a lot of tears lately.

Mostly for the moms.

For the moms of beautiful black boys who have been lost; killed for reasons that can never be fully explained or understood.

For other moms; moms who are my friends, who worry about their own children, but especially their sons, in ways that are quite different than the ways I worry about my children. I worry about my girls' happiness, their friendships, the influence of drugs and alcohol. So do my friends, but they have other worries. They know that their babies will be subjected to scrutiny and judgments that they have not brought upon themselves by any action of their own, but simply because of who they are. Because of how they look. Because of the assumptions and fears of other people. People who don't even know them.

It has never occurred to me to teach my daughters how to act if they are accused of shoplifting or what to do if they are stopped by the police. Other moms do teach their children these things and it leaves me with a sick feeling in my stomach and an ache in my heart. I know their children: smart, funny, kind and sometimes a little sassy, just like my own children. But not blonde-haired and blue-eyed. So, in addition to teaching their children the things all parents must: rules and values, games and academics, they have to teach them how to defend against the indefensible.  While I can safely assume that if my children are accused of a crime, they will be treated fairly, my friends cannot. In the United States of America in 2014, they cannot assume that their children will be treated fairly by law enforcement if they are suspected of a crime, because they are black.  And that is what I must teach my children.

I've cried in frustration and horror because I can't imagine why men who swear oaths to serve and protect reach for their guns first, instead of their tasers or batons; why men who are heavily armed are so afraid and so filled with fury that one shot won't do - it must be six. How are police officer applicants screened? How were they trained? How are they held accountable? How did it come to this - that shooting an unarmed kid was the best choice among the range of possible actions? What is being done to ensure that this does not happen again?

I know that the officer from Ferguson who shot Michael Brown has his own story and a right to due process. I just can't get past the idea that there must have been another choice available to him besides executing a kid who had no weapon.

I have struggled with how to articulate my anger and sadness about the shooting of Michael Brown and the continuing turmoil in Ferguson. I know my feelings pale in comparison to the thoughts and feelings of people who are more directly affected in their daily lives by racism. And then I realized that I am directly affected by racism because its poison corrodes us all.  It tears apart our whole community. It makes us suspicious and distrustful of each other and of law enforcement. It undermines the entire premise of our country: that we are all equal and have equal voices and opportunities. Without that, what are we as a nation and a people?

It's very tempting to remain silent for fear of offending someone or of starting an argument. It is, after all, an unpleasant topic, injustice. We'd like to think we are past all that; we'd like to think that if it exists, it's only in isolated little pockets. It is only by talking about it that we can learn what is really happening on a daily basis to the people around us. And it is happening, make no mistake.

So what can we do?

Ask. Listen. Call it out when you see it.

Don't wait until another mom's child is lying dead in the street.

Personal Growth

It sucks to be the one who is always there for people; the one who always seems to handle things so well: with "grace". That's what my friends have told me, but I don't feel so full of grace as I sit here with tears slipping down my cheeks. I don't feel very graceful at all.

I'm really not one to ask for help. Ever. It's not something to be proud of. I really should do it more often. I know this. It's just that when I feel the need, it seems like no one is there.

Someone I thought was such a great friend, well, she pretty much blew me off during the entire month of May, when both my parents died. I could have understood that; could have rationalized some excuse for her - I'm good at that, but then she blew me off all of June, too. Not a visit, not a note, not a call. Until just before we left on our trip, July 21, when she called to say hi. As though nothing had happened.  As though it was all like before.

I'm really easy-going with friends. I cut them a lot of slack, I really do. I'm thick skinned; it takes a lot to hurt my feelings. This hurt. It hurt a lot because we go back a ways. Back before we had kids and through five pregnancies between us. Through shared maternity clothes, post-partum depression, nanny troubles, job changes and the inevitable pull between work and babies that working women feel. We've always connected, she and I, that's why it hurt so much.

I know she will never read this. I asked her to; told her it would mean a lot to me. She said she "doesn't have time for blogs." I pretended that was okay. She is a busy professional woman, after all.

I needed someone to talk to today. It was the first hard day in a long time, but it was really hard. You see, my Mom and Dad, they always ate up whatever my girls were doing and we are in the back to school countdown. We shopped for supplies today. B has 7th (!) grade orientation tomorrow and A has her first band practice EVER (flute, thanks for asking) and they would have been so excited.

Mom always took special joy in picking out back to school outfits for my girls and sending them to them before school started. She had a knack for picking just the right thing. The girls always loved those outfits and I have the photos to prove it.

Mom and Dad would have wanted to hear every detail of our three week camping trip out west and they would have wanted to see every picture and they would have listened to every story and they are not here and it hurts and I miss them.

Left brain says, "They were old, disease caught up with them and this is life."

Right brain says, "They are out there, somewhere, watching and knowing."

Heart says, "I miss them."

I am looking at a calendar of holidays and celebrations coming up and realizing that they will not be there to celebrate with us. And there is a void. Already.

I really didn't expect to feel this way. I thought I had worked through it; I thought I had it handled. I guess I didn't.

Another %$#-damned opportunity for personal growth. And I shall try to treat it as such.

Lessons

It's been one heck of a year. Along the way, I have learned a few things; things I did not know before because I had no reason to have known them. These are practical suggestions because I am a practical person. I have read one too many articles about caregiving that say things like, "Make time for yourself,""Stay active," blah, blah, blah. How in the heck do you do that?

Without further ado, I hereby bestow my wisdom.

1. Whenever you have reason to accompany someone, anyone, to the hospital or a doctor's appointment, carry a notebook/paper and (working) writing implement. Taking notes on your hand that you, hours later, try to decipher so that you may report to the rest of your family the prognosis for mom or dad only causes frustration. Trust me, I learned this from experience. Plus, it takes a while for the ink to wear off and people tend to look askance at adult women with sharpie script on the back of their hands and extending up the forearm. Not that I care.

2. Never leave home without an a/c charger for your iPhone. I love Siri, but girlfriend sucks the life right out of my battery. It's very stressful to be delayed and want to call home to talk your children through dinner prep and homework when your cell phone battery life indicator is in the red zone.

3. Keep snacks and water bottles in your car or your purse. Hospital cafeterias close at the most inconvenient times. Emergency rooms are often located in dicey areas where you don't really want to get out at the local Circle K at 2:00 a.m. to buy stale trail mix to tide you over on the drive home.

4. Be nice to nurses. Let me repeat: BE NICE TO NURSES. Even the surly ones. Not only are they they the folks administering the "hands-on" care to your loved one, where a gentler touch brought on by fondness is desired, they know where the coffee machines and free snacks are located and will share this information with you if you are nice. Yes, there are nurses in my family so I am biased. However, I have seen what good nurses can do. They can figure out that prescribed medication was not actually ordered from the pharmacy (yes, this happened) and get it ordered. They notice when symptoms are worsening or not improving as they should, and take action - right away- which saves lives. They are the implementers and gatekeepers for the doctors, so when they see something in the chart that the doc may have missed or an error the doc may have made, they will call it to the doctor's attention. They are better educators than most doctors, and will explain things to you so that you understand what is going on and what is likely to happen next. There is a lot they can do to make you and your "patient" more comfortable and at ease. Be nice to the nurses.

5. Be up front with your kids. Give them the truth: "I probably won't be home for dinner, so let's talk about what you can eat if I'm not here." "I really want to go on your field trip, but this time I can't do it." "Grandma is very sick, but it still makes her happy to hear your voice. Would you like to talk to her?" "No, Grandpa is not going to get better, so let's visit him as much as we can and let him know we love him." Nobody likes to deliver bad news, but it often saves tears later. Kids are smart and they know when they aren't getting the whole story. Give them the respect they deserve.

6. Keep an updated calendar and contact list on your person. If plans have to be cancelled or changed you can deal with it right away. Make sure you have numbers for all of the schools and neighbors.

7. Keep a photocopy of health insurance cards, Medicare cards and photo identification, along with medication lists for whomever you care-take, in your purse. I needed these documents often since we utilized several different hospital systems.

If it is not you, but a friend, who is being "sandwiched" between parents and children or is otherwise in a medically stressful situation, here are some things I know, now that I have lived through this. I beg forgiveness from all of my friends for not doing these things before. I'll do them now, pinkie-swear!

1. Call her (or him). Listen and let her rant. Don't worry about bothering her. It really helps to know that friends are thinking about you. Or send a quick email, letting her know you are thinking of her. Spending long hours in hospitals and emergency rooms leaves a person feeling very disconnected. Those places are like casinos, with no sense of time or place, so it's nice to have little reminders that you haven't stepped into the Twilight Zone and that life "on the outside" is still going on and that you haven't been forgotten.

2. Cut her some slack - a lot of it. If your friend is in this above-mentioned challenging situation, do not be offended if your calls and emails are not returned. Do not begin conversations or emails with, "I haven't heard from you......". She does not need the added guilt; she has plenty of it already. She got your message; she saw that you called; she appreciated it. Trust me, she was just too wiped out to respond. That or her cell phone battery was dead.

3. Do something with/for her kids. Pick them up, take them to your house to play with your kids. Take them anywhere, just give them some attention. They need it and your friend will be relieved of some of her guilt. She might even have an hour to blow off some steam browsing Pinterest. One of the nicest things anyone has done for me was to take my girls out to dinner during the calling hours at the funeral home. I had completely forgotten about dinner that night. She saved the day.

4. Bring food. Anything. A bag of bagels and some cream cheese. Dinner. A fruitcake. (Well, maybe not). It doesn't have to be fancy or gourmet. Take out and pizza get expensive and tiresome. Exhaustion and worry make planning meals and shopping really daunting. It is such a relief when someone calls and says - "I'm bringing you dinner tomorrow. Any allergies? When can I stop by or where can I leave it if you are not home?" This is also true when someone has a death in the family. BRING FOOD.

5. DO NOT SAY, "LET ME KNOW WHAT I CAN DO." I've said this in the past and I will never say it again. It is perfectly useless because it puts the burden on the stressed out person to come up with something, but she doesn't want to suggest something too burdensome, so she will say, "Oh, I'm fine. Really." Even though she's not. If she's feeling kind of pissy and if you are a close friend, she will think, "Thanks for nothing." And she will be annoyed with you. Instead, offer a couple of things you would/could do and ask her which would help her the most. Or just cut to the chase and bring food. If you are yourself in such a stressful situation that you simply can't do anything for your friend, don't tell her that; she'll feel like she should do something for you. Just call and tell her you are thinking of her or better yet, send a card.