Tribute to Dylan Hadley

Preparing

Tuesdays are therapy days with Jason. Today we discussed my increasing anxiety, work (Bossdoc is on a 3 week vacation so I'm on call), my relationship with StW, my meeting with the State's Attorney tomorrow, and of course always, Dylan.

I met with Det. Gallagher and Cmdr. Cameron of the Police Dept. afterward. I told them about tomorrow's meeting and asked for input. It also gave me the opportunity to thank them for all the work they've done on Dylan's case. One person has been in custody since the day after Dylan's death and there's a possibility of more arrests. We talked a bit about the defendant and his family, his mother, who I've seen in court each time. We talked about what "an offer" means, and the best information they gave me was about what happens at the sentencing -so I need to be prepared. Even if both sides have reached an agreement, it's still up to the judge to pronounce sentence.

In some states (Texas) the victims are able to speak to the family and/or defendant. IL is not such a state but they thought it was worth asking the DA. I feel I need all the possible facts before rendering an opinion, even if it is only my opinion, not what's actually going to happen.

Justin is unable to attend tomorrow, and I uninvited StW. He is so angry. I'm incredibly sad, and occasionally weepy, distraught, always anxious, but I am not guilty, and if I'm angry, I'm not in touch with it. Anger is destructive. I always walk away from it now and I am certainly not bringing it to court with me. I simply told him, "With regard to Dylan, I trump you." End of story. To his credit, he said he can no more keep his anger in check than I can my tears. "Well then, stay home and be angry. I will try not to cry around you either."

I got as much done at the office this morning as I could. I will start earlier tomorrow to try to get caught up before heading to the Courthouse in Waukegan. I promised the police I would call them after my meeting to let them know how it went.

I also need to call my psychiatrist. I cannot go on feeling like I'm going to have a heart attack or stroke out any minute. That's how bad my anxiety is. I've been on the same meds for a long time, long before Dylan died. Maybe it's time to try something else or for a change in dosage. This crawling out of my skin feeling needs to get better.

Valentine's Monday

I've never been a huge fan of Valentine's Day. Any day seems like a fine day for chocolate and flowers, so the day just seems full of stress, anxiety and disappointment. Maybe that's just a description of my relationships on Valentine's Day. I don't know. Single Awareness Day -it also accentuates the loneliness of those who would like to have a partner but don't.

I remember last year's Valentine's Day too well, but through Amanda and Dylan. She described it today on Facebook, on RIP Dylan Hadley.

My dream last night (I'm supposed to write them down when I remember them) was weird. I think I was in college, but living on Briggs Avenue in the Bronx. I was walking to school but had to stop back at home. There were cafe tables set up with people sitting at them, in front of the building. I rang to be buzzed in, but my mom didn't answer the bell, so I went around through the back way. While I was there, I brushed my teeth, put on some make up and changed my clothes. I couldn't find shoes. None, anywhere. My mom thought she'd seen a rack of my shoes in the laundry room, so we went there to look. I chose yellow ones and wondered if yellow went with the purple pants I was wearing.

I asked her where Dylan was as "I haven't seen him in ages." She said he had a job at "Canteeners," which I seemed to know was a restaurant/bar/club type of place. "Well, he can't be there all the time," I said to her. She said that when he isn't working, he's hanging out there with his GF.

I was aware in my dream that it's been over 4 months since I've seen him.

Testing the Waters

I closed my Xanga account. It's been archived and downloaded and will be saved onto my backup drive. I doubt I'll ever read through 6 years of blogging, it didn't seem like my life was all that interesting while I was living it. It probably wouldn't be a bad idea, as my brain isn't capable of remembering much these days. Then too, maybe one day Justin might want to read it. Someone did actually read my Xanga from beginning to end recently. (I should ask her what happened in my life.) She, a lifelong journaler, suggested I go back and fill in memories. I've decided to do that. I would have loved to read such a thing had my mother or grandmother, or wow, imagine my great grandmother, had kept such a journal.

Xanga was a comfortable place, sort of like AOL. Easy. User friendly. And I made some friends there. I tried using Blogspot before -it's been almost two years since my last entry?!- but it didn't feel like home. Now nothing feels like home anyway and I'm just going to try to write.

It's been a particularly brutal winter, lots of snow and cold. Not that I can feel the cold much. I'm thinking there's something wrong with my body thermostat. I like Winter and miss only the green of Summer.

Life, too, has been brutal. Every. Single. Day. I notice that I have posted less about my moods, feelings, anxiety on Facebook lately. Like I'm protecting the readers from my ongoing Grief. I'm pretty sure that all but those who have lost* a child must think I should have reached the statute of limitations by now. Grieve in silence, we're tired of hearing about it, we don't know what else to say to you. Move on.

*The Compassionate Friends and I agree that we do not like the expression "lost a child." We did not lose our children. Our children died.

Dylan Keith
March 22, 1990 - October 4, 2010
RIP

One Day, Leads To Another...

The days now seem to flow together. Every day Dad takes walks. Every day Dad gets lost. Several neighbors now know where he belongs and have aided in returning him home. Our local police department now has his description and photo on the computers in each squad car, a program called "Take me Home" and they have encouraged me to call as soon as we find him missing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That was written a few days ago. I intended to finish it at some point but my time is no longer my own. Not even a little bit. I think I'll do an ADD bullet point blog.

• Sleep deprivation
• Dad has had 2 significant falls.
  
• One in front of someone else's house while he was lost, one in front of ours today.
• He's "okay."
• D must be so happy to be out from under the radar.
• Once Dad goes home, I am never cooking again. When I shared this with StW, he said, "that's what I'm afraid of."
• Dad seemed worse the first week he was here.
• He's been staying home the last few days after promising me.
  
• We've taken walks together every day.
• Today I worked on the back deck, cleaning and getting ready for planting, cookouts and summer.
• I brought the outdoor rockers over from J's deck so Dad could sit there -safely- and read the paper, enjoy the sun and not be distracted by the road to somewhere.
• Yesterday we bought 2 chairs at the Lazyboy store so he'd be able to get out of a chair more easily because we noticed it's difficult for him to get off the sofa. He was along and tried them out. He continues to sit on the sofa.
• He loves to eat. All. The. Time. Night. And. Day.
  
• He won't take any meds.
• He scratches until he bleeds. Until there are holes. Deep holes on his arms -mostly.
  
• We have had 4 plugged toilets, water running into the hall.
• There's also been bowel incontinence.
• Today he told me I'm a good mother.
• I decided not to question that.
• Most days he asks me numerous times, "how's my daughter doing?"
• You cannot leave the house without him saying, "be safe."
  
• He is excessively thankful. He says "thank you" for the most minute thing, and too often during meals, drinks and help. Every single thing has been "delicious." I think not.
  
• Today I noticed that some details of even the old stories have changed. It's the first I've noticed long term memory issues.
• He doesn't know how long he's been here, nor how long he'll be here, or even why he's here, but he does ask about my Mother now.
• He leaves the bathroom door open.
  
• There has been nudity in the house.
• Most household members don't deal well with that.
• He's a klepto everywhere we go.
• He eats without his teeth in.
• He puts food he can't eat on top of the dry cat food. They won't eat it either.
  
• He's exchanged the cats' water with milk.
• He sleeps with Floyd, who he has renamed Cassandra Obama, which he repeats 3 thousand times a day and calls all three cats.
• He turns off lights left on so he can see at night. Instead, he turns on the really bright ones and even sleeps with the overhead light on.
  
• As long as someone is with him while he's awake, he's okay.
• We've been watching the HBO special on Alzheimer's, yesterday he watched with us. I wish I could read his mind.
• He's too young for Alzheimer's.
• I feel so sad. I am tired of care-taking, which then makes me feel guilty. Yet it isn't without its rewards -at least still at this point.
  
• We have one more week with him here.
  
• Jay has already weighed in, "your care-taking days are over. He cannot stay with you."
• My boss uses almost the same words.
  
• I know this is true. It's only been 2 weeks and it's taken a toll. But how can my Mom do this when I can barely manage?
• Plus they have a different relationship, more history, baggage. They fight.
  
• It's sad. Very sad.
  
• I'm still undecided.