On Mulan’s Anniversary- Reflections on Caregiving and Who I Am Inside

Reflection
Music by Matthew Wilder
Lyrics by David Zippel
Performed by Lea Salonga

Mulan (1998)  Walt Disney Feature Animation

Today is the anniversary of the release of Mulan. It was actually the first Disney film Ben and I saw together when we began dating. It is hard to believe it was 22 years ago. At that time, Ben was not quite the Disney fanatic that I was, but he wanted to impress me so we made frequent visits to the Disney Store and he took me to see this film on opening day in what became our tradition of opening day viewings of Disney and Pixar films. As it turned out, Ben loved this film and he was very happy to find Mulan ornaments for our Christmas tree. He particularly loved the song in this clip, Reflection. I can relate to it, although Mulan was struggling with her identity within her family and I am struggling more within myself.

Somehow I cannot hide
Who I am, though I’ve tried.
When will my reflection show who I am, inside?

grief,ALS,Disney,Christmas

Ben loved Mulan and Buzz Lightyear!

I’ve written a lot about feeling like I was, and still am, floundering, because when I lost my dad and Ben, I also lost my role as a caregiver. Caregiving consumed my life. I did what I was expected to do but also what I felt in my heart was the right thing to do. Despite the emotional and physical stress, it was the most important, meaningful and loving work I have ever done. I learned that at my core I am an attentive and devoted caregiver, whether to my dad, Ben or my students. Caregiving also revealed to me a strength that I never would have believed I possess, and that my often emotional demeanor would never have conveyed. Once that role was removed, I lost myself and my reflection was blurred.

Because caregiving was so much of who I’ve come to be, it is still difficult for me when I realize that people I meet now do not know the story of Ben and my dad. I am no longer known as Abby, Ben’s caregiver, or Abby who was so devoted to her dad and her husband. Being my dad’s caregiver and his whole world, and being the person at Ben’s side throughout his battle with ALS are aspects of how I see myself, even though those actual days are done. Presenting myself apart from Ben, as a person on my own, seems incomplete, and almost disrespectful. I feel self-conscious when I mention Ben and someone asks how long he’s been gone. I sometimes become apologetic that I realize he’s been gone almost five years. I keep reminding myself that Ben is still a part of everything that I do and we will always be connected. I know that I have to find my own way now.

Now, when I look at myself, I see much of the former, more eccentric and whimsical Abby, though I was changed by seeing my dad and Ben face death and by having the responsibility of caregiving. I still do struggle with compartmentalizing my caregiving experiences and losses. The truth is that I see my caregiving qualities as positive parts of myself.  It is a rare  accomplishment to feel proud of myself, and caregiving did that for me, though it took a long time after the fact for me to realize it.  My struggle has been finding a balance of being true to Ben and my dad, and true to myself, while living in the present.  I want the Abby I am now to reflect all of those experiences without remaining immersed in only memories.

I have managed to integrate my caregiving into volunteer work, and even managed to extend it into my school life. This year, I started a club that I intended to reach kids who were caregivers. I saw that many kids were struggling because they were caring for an ill parent or relative or caring for siblings. They had no time for themselves and had difficulty focusing on schoolwork. I asked guidance counselors to let kids know about my club and leave it to them to reach out to me, because I did not want anyone to feel that their privacy was invaded. As it turned out, I have a club of wonderfully caring kids who want to volunteer and want to create activities to care for our school community. It has been a great joy for me to see them blossom and build their confidence. They have created virtual workshops for the school community that have been quite delightful and valuable, and the workshops have provided a welcome opportunity for the students to connect at a time when they feel so isolated. It’s not exactly what I intended, but it’s been such a positive experience to know that indirectly, I am contributing to the students’ development of social and caring skills that would put them in a good position as caregivers. I’m not exactly sure where it’s going, or where I’m going, but I feel like I am doing what I was meant to do. This is a positive way to reflect my caregiving experience.

I will continue to explore ways to reach out to the caregiving community and to of young caregivers. In this new phase of my life, my “new” and maybe somewhat “improved” self is exploring the possibilities for self-exploration and reinvention that will hopefully allow me to make a difference in the lives of others and maintain my tie to Ben, my dad and caregiving. I would love to know that they are proud of me and happy that they are continuing to inspire me. I know that inside myself, I hold all of my love and experiences.

All of our experiences help us grow and evolve. I will always see the people I’ve cared for, loved and lost in my reflection and I am proud and comforted that this will always keep their spirits alive and close. I hope that what others see in me honors them and our love and does justice to all of us.

In the place where I took a photo with Ben, this time on my own, but strong!

 

Happy Anniversary to “The Incredibles 2”- Elevating The Superpowers of Caregivers

ALS, The Incredibles,Caregiving,Caregivers,Walt Disney World

In honor of Ben’s love of this film, here’s a pic of him with one of his best buddies during our visit to Walt Disney World in 2014.

Today is the second anniversary of the release of The Incredibles 2.  I reread my original post about the film, most of which is re-posted here. I like to reflect on where I was and where I am with regard to dealing with his death and my life. I can’t help but recall that when the sequel opened, it was particularly bittersweet to see it without Ben because The Incredibles was one of his favorite films, but it was also important to me to maintain our tradition and see it on opening day. I do recall that although there are times when I literally feel Ben beside me, which I know some people find strange, at this film I didn’t feel his presence. I did, therefore, profoundly feel his absence. I was angry that he did not have the chance to see this movie. I don’t usually feel angry, though I do often feel frustrated that he was cheated of so much of life. I felt that deeply when I returned to Walt Disney World last fall, when I experienced the activities and events that we loved so much and will never be quite the same without him. There are certainly more significant life moments than a film that Ben has missed and will miss that I should probably be more angry about, but sometimes the little moments make a tremendous impact.

This blog is a clear reflection of the way I look to each Disney film for enlightenment, hopefully a quote that will carry me forward or give me perspective. I like to be able to share these thoughts with other caregivers with the intention that they will validate, inspire or comfort. The Incredibles 2 did not disappoint. The film actually has a lot of messages about inclusion, diversity, fighting for justice, family and love.The wisdom seems even more powerful in the midst of the many issues that we are facing as a society. Though it may be a generalization, I have to agree with Agent Dicker when he said, “Politicians don’t understand people who do good things. That makes them nervous.“

Interestingly, the quote that resonated with me was very appropriate for caregivers, and for an opening weekend that included Father’s Day. Edna Moda told Mr. Incredible, Done properly, parenting is a heroic act. Done properly.”  I was so fortunate to have had two devoted and loving parents. As a public school teacher, over the years I have seen many children who are not parented properly, in fact, they are barely parented at all.  Good parenting is indeed a heroic, selfless act of love. The same came be said for good caregiving. It is, indeed, a super power, though I never thought so when I was a caregiver.

As a caregiver, I often questioned my abilities, especially when I was struggling with exhaustion, sadness and patience with Ben when he was stubborn and demanding. But, like any other caregiver, I put my emotions and feelings aside, or, at least on hold, and trudged on because the immediate needs of caregiving are not negotiable. Phone calls abruptly ended, activities were thrown to the side, chores ignored (well, I can’t say I minded that very much) as I attempted to create order amidst chaos, calm when he was panicked, and peace amidst the devastation of watching Ben deteriorate and suffer, physically and/or emotionally. Like all caregivers, I also ran interference among medical professionals and other related staff, as well as family and friends. I provided spirit boosts and levity and also administered difficult doses of reality, as tactfully as possible.

It certainly wasn’t my goal as a caregiver to be heroic and I don’t think that caregivers generally perceive themselves as heroes. We probably spend more time following Dory’s advice to “just keep swimming.” As a crybaby, I’ve never seen myself as heroic- at any point in my life- which is why, I think, I was puzzled when people told me that I was brave. Ben was brave, I was along for the ride, trying to be helpful and, a good deal of the time, not sure if I was much of a success. My insecurities made me feel much less than a superhero. However, I can attest that I definitely earned the Wonder Woman t-shirt Ben got me after I managed to grab him and keep him from falling off the bed!

In the film, we are introduced to new super hero, Voyd, who asks Mrs. Incredible/Elastigirl, “How do you balance the superhero stuff with the life stuff?” Indeed, that’s a very important consideration for caregivers. For me, I constantly struggled with balancing the responsibilities of caregiving against a full-time job, daily life chores, relationships with friends and family, the emotional strain of losing the life Ben and I had, and knowing that ultimately, I was going to lose Ben. In retrospect, I think the balancing act IS the superhero stuff.

Young Dash tells his dad, Mr. Incredible, that he wants to fight bad guys because “It defines me.” I can say that caregiving defined me for several years and I found that it is a significant part of who I am and how I see myself. I have written about how I floundered when I was no longer a caregiver, until I found myself again through blogging, volunteering and trying to support other caregivers. Although I would rather not have discovered this through the illness and loss of my dad and Ben, I feel like I have identified caregiving as my super power. Unfortunately, I was not able to defeat cancer or ALS, but my dad and Ben always felt cared and advocated for and loved, and that is incredibly powerful. I did not see it while I was actively caregiving, but time and distance have provided valuable perspective.

Mr. Incredible at Walt Disney World’s parade, 2014.

Mr. Incredible summed up well the life of a caregiver when he said: “How do I do it? By rolling with the punches, baby!” I can picture Ben smiling and nodding, because, in actuality, both he and I rolled with the punches. I am still in awe of how well he rolled with the severe punches dealt to him by ALS. Maybe, in our own ways, we were both super heroes, albeit without the cute costumes.

I highly recommend The Incredibles 2. It’s quite fun and fantastic and offers unexpected words of wisdom for caregivers and everyone else. Post your thoughts! I look forward to reading them.

ALS, Caregiving, The Incredibles, Disney, Pixar, Caregiving, Grief

Ben as Mr. Incredible- Part of a birthday collage that I made for Ben. When it came to battling ALS, Ben was indeed a super hero!

Where Do The Memories Go? For Aunt Ellie On Her Birthday

Aunt Eleanor with our Standard Schnauzer, Dulcie. Ellie was never a huge dog lover until she met Dulcie.

Today is my aunt Eleanor’s 92nd birthday.  Unfortunately, due to COVID19, I was unable to visit her in the nursing home. She wouldn’t know, but I do. Ellie has Alzheimer’s disease that has progressed to the point where she does not really speak at all, though she does seem to understand some of what is said to her. It’s hard to imagine her so isolated at this time. It’s been hard to visit her for the last several months, too. Her eyes stopped lighting up when she saw me, though she smiled sometimes when I talked to her. I believe that her memories of me are floating somewhere in her mind, or I let myself believe that to cope with my profound sadness. Last year, I had the perfect moment when I handed her a Mickey Mouse birthday card and asked if she remembered him- she smiled. Disney magic! Pixie dust!

Although I have never been her caregiver, I like to take this time to honor her here. Perhaps if you are a caregiver or are close to someone with dementia, you can relate to my experience. We were so close and she has influenced much of who I am. Ellie was the person who took me to the theater and ballet and inspired my love of the arts and of travel. Ellie took me to book signings when I was young, and I was always thrilled to meet famous and wildly talented people. Now, attending book signings is one of my favorite activities. For a long time, after her Alzheimer’s advanced and she could no longer accompany me, I got books signed for her.  We looked at the books together, which she enjoyed despite the changes in her memory, and I enjoyed because it let me step back in time and relate to her in a way that transcended the Alzheimer’s. I remember how excited I was to bring her a children’s book written by Wendy Wasserstein. It was about a girl whose aunt takes her to her first musical. When I handed Wendy the book to sign, I told her that my aunt Ellie was like her book’s Aunt Pamela. She smiled and inscribed the book, “To Eleanor, who IS Aunt Pamela.”  I am tremendously proud of my collection of signed books and CDs, and proud to honor the relationship that I have maintained with my aunt.

Ellie and I at one of my birthday parties.

I tried to maintain our favorite activities and took her to the theater even as her Alzheimer’s progressed. I once took her to a Yiddish theater production where they gave out pickles at intermission. It seems that she immediately forgot the play, but she told people she had pickles and it was really fun. I wonder if her mind drifted back to her childhood in Brooklyn. I felt like that was still a good memory for her, and I was glad that in the moment, she enjoyed sitting through the show. After spending another day at the theater with her, I took her home, and when I got home there was a panicked phone message from her asking if we were supposed to see each other that day. She had completely forgotten the day. I could only reason with myself that at least while we were at the theater she enjoyed watching the play. I stopped taking her when she seemed to not have as much fun because she was easily confused and disoriented. It would have been selfish to keep trying to keep things the same when things had changed and I had to accept it.

Ellie is the remaining relative to whom I was closest and with whom I spent a lot of time. It feels somehow disrespectful, but I realize that in many ways I am grieving her loss. Although she is still physically here, our relationship is not the same. It hurts to see her and her largely diminished quality of life. During the last few visits before COVID19, I left in tears. People sometimes ask me why I visit her if she doesn’t know I’m there and it upsets me, but she’s still here, and maybe somewhere in her mind, whether or not she can express it, she is happy to see me. I like to think so. I know that I need to see her. She is always in my thoughts and I often think about her all alone at the nursing home during these crazy times. I’ve heard through my uncle, her brother, that the facility says she is well- at least physically.

Ellie was a Spanish teacher and although my career has been varied, I have been walking in her footsteps for the past sixteen years. Sometimes, when I am in class, I see so much of her in my mannerisms and the rapport I have with my students. Today, I can’t help but think of the beautiful song Remember Me from Disney’s Coco. She would have loved it. I’ve put the song clip and lyrics here. The film dealt so beautifully with aging, memory loss and death, conveying that our loved ones are always in our hearts. With that in mind, I will spend this evening trying to think of all of the wonderful memories that we shared. Happy Birthday, Ellie.


The lyrics from the song “Remember Me” were very emotional.

Remember Me
Lyrics from Coco
Written by Kristen Anderson-Lopez and Robert Lopez
Performed by Miguel, featuring Natalia Lafourcade

Remember me
Though I have to say goodbye
Remember me
Don’t let it make you cry
For even if I’m far away I hold you in my heart
I sing a secret song to you each night we are apart

Remember me
Though I have to travel far
Remember me
Each time you hear a sad guitar
Know that I’m with you the only way that I can be
Until you’re in my arms again
Remember me

 

Happy Birthday, Donald Duck!

Happy Birthday, Donald Duck!

With all the talk of COVID19 and debates about the reopening of Walt Disney World, it’s nice to have something, and someone, to celebrate. Time has sort of stood still, and it’s hard to remember the date or day of the week, but I realize that it will soon be the end of the school year, followed by the anniversary of when Ben went into the emergency room and everything changed. It’s never been my favorite season- I hate the heat- but now there is the added set of memories. Also, a quarantine that’s being lifted in some places in a way that gives me little confidence. I definitely feel a certain level of anxiety, but as Dory taught me, I just keep swimming. Seems a perfect time to think about the fun and laughs we shared with Donald, even in the more difficult days.

I lose myself in the photographs, which bring tears of joy and sadness. Donald was always so much fun at the meet and greets. And, being a Spanish teacher, I did especially love when he was at the Mexico pavilion at Epcot.

I share these photos because photos and memories have played such an important and positive part of my dealing with the rough times of watching Ben decline as his ALS progressed, and dealing with grief. It does not mean that I don’t get upset or lament the times we will never have.  But, I also think about how lucky we were to share this love of Disney that always shed much needed pixie dust on our lives.  Donald is part of those special memories that comfort me. So, with gratitude and joy, I say Happy Birthday to Donald Duck.

A Mother’s Day Tribute Through Disney Colored Glasses

We were always Mickey Mouse fans!

Today is Mother’s Day. My grandmother believed that every day should be Mother’s Day. And, the truth is that when my mom was alive, every day WAS Mother’s Day. We were so close that we did not need an actual holiday to celebrate that fact. After I lost them, I can’t say that this holiday was like other milestones in terms of evoking much sadness. There was a feeling of not belonging, and the sting of realizing that I didn’t have the close and unconditional love of family anymore. Yesterday, I saw a lot of people carrying flowers and celebrating the occasion, albeit a day early. It hurt more than it has because I realized that I have lost all of the people whom I had celebrated throughout my life. I never forget all of the love that I currently have in my life, but there are times that I don’t like to face that the people I loved the most only exist in my memories now.

I think about the importance of mothers in Disney films. Often, they are not present, having died at some point in the childhood of our favorite characters. Who can forget the pain of Bambi’s realization that he has lost his mother? The power of a mom’s life remains steadfast in the lives of our beloved characters. The films show us that people we love and lose stay close in our hearts. This is such an important message for children who are caregivers and are grieving.  I previously shared this clip from Disney’s live action Cinderella, where Cinderella’s father advises her that they must always cherish their home because her mom was the heart of it and they must honor her. This scene touched my heart. Frankly, I couldn’t imagine living after she died. I have learned to cherish my memories that keep my mom’s spirit alive and honor her. I get my childlike enthusiasm from her and, I believe, my natural caregiving skills, which even extend to my students. Of course, I embody her love of Mickey Mouse and all things Disney, but I hope that in some small way I have followed her example as a person. I do know that she is always with me. But, as I have also said before, as fortunate as I am, sometimes memories aren’t enough. Today kind of feels like one of those days.

Grandma and I were also very close. From the time I was a child, I was in awe of Grandma and her elegance. I loved her sense of fashion. She had a wonderful way of putting together colors and fabrics and styles. I still have some of her clothing and jewelry. The best shopping I ever did was in her closets and drawers. When I’m feeling lazy about dressing up or putting on make-up- it happens rarely, but it happens!- I hear her warning me that I never know who I am going to meet and I should always look my best. Clearly, she was hoping for a nice, Jewish Prince Charming. My fairytale was not quite exactly her idea of the “tale as old as time,” but Grandma always seemed to understand that I danced to my own beat. Sometimes we frustrated each other, particularly when I challenged her ideas of an ideal life. But, we had a special bond and an unconditional love for each other.

Grandma doing my hair. She crocheted my dress. She was very talented! I get my creative streak from her.

Grandma had four brothers and a sister, my great-aunts and great-uncles, and I loved them all dearly. I loved spending time with my great-aunts and great-uncles. Losing Grandma and my older relatives left a huge void in my life. However, through our loving relationships, I developed a tremendous appreciation of and compassion for elderly people that I have to this day.

Grandma was very artistic and I inherited her abilities and passion for crafts. She crocheted many aphgans and sweaters, skirts, dresses and ponchos. I remember choosing wool colors with her and how each item had to represent the gift recipient, yet had to be timeless and classic. I can see my own shifting tastes as I look at my childhood aphgan in its pastel colors and then the gray, maroon and cream colors in my college aphgan. I remember waking up in the morning covered with the squares she made while I was asleep.  My dollhouse and dolls even got aphgans! I still have many things that she made. They hold such beautiful memories of time spent watching her and learning how to crochet. Eventually, she helped me to make an aphgan of my own. Ben used it often. Grandma’s talents extended to the piano, and she inspired me to learn how to play. I never played as well as she did, but she helped and encouraged me to play, and I’ve kept some of the sheet music.

When I was a caregiver juggling responsibilities for Ben and my dad, I realized how hard my mom worked, at a time when there was no real acknowledgment of the role of caregivers. My mom was at her core a natural, nurturing caregiver. She took care of my dad, brother, our dogs and me, as well as Grandma, but was also responsible for looking after my great-grandparents, great-aunts and great-uncles, and even my cousins. She even knew the treats that my friends liked and made sure to have them on hand at all times.  She took care of everyone in myriad ways. My mom was the most selfless person I have ever known.

My mom visited my great-aunt, Tanta Rosie, with our Standard Schnauzer, Dulcie, almost every day.

I realize now that in many ways, my own caregiving days started when my mom died. I followed her example and began looking after Grandma, my dad, my great-aunt who was in a nearby nursing home. I was constantly on the phone with Grandma and my dad and helping them tend to various chores. I also loved and kept in close touch with my great-aunts and great-uncles.  I went home every weekend to help in any way I could, and sometimes that was simply keeping everyone company and making them laugh. My grandma did not want to be cheered, and I understood that. I don’t think that anyone fully comprehends the loss of a child unless they experience it. My aunt, my mom’s older sister, also visited every weekend. But, after a sudden death, everyone floundered and tried to pick up pieces while still in shock and feeling profound sadness at the loss of the key person in our family. And, as in any family, the dynamics led to tensions that were, at times, explosive. I found that, just like I believe my mom would have done, I spent my time with them being a cheerleader and my private time at home collapsing in grief. Sometimes I came home, sat on the sofa and cried, and at other times I dropped my bags and took myself to a movie just to escape.

When Grandma was ill, I helped with her caregiving, and, although I was not her primary caregiver, I was the one she usually relied on for comfort. At the same time, although I was in my thirties, she wanted to protect me from the fact that she was dying.

As time has passed, I think mostly of the wonderful memories of my mom and Grandma and our time together. So much who I am and what I do reminds me of them. You won’t be surprised that one of my favorite memories is when my mom called me from Walt Disney World exclaiming, “Abby, I met Mickey!” Another was many years later, thinking about my grandmother’s laughter when I called her from Walt Disney World to tell her that I had seen Mickey Mouse. Every time I bake I feel Grandma with me, and she is a part of all of my creative and artistic endeavors, as well as my fashion choices.

Making humentashen is a tradition that started a long time ago!

Ben and I had no children together, but he had three daughters, so I suppose I can say I was a stepmom, though I only had a brief relationship with one daughter that I believed was closer than it turned out to be. I would like them to have been there more for their dad, but I knew that interfering would have added more tension to Ben’s already stressful life. I made no demands and have never had any expectations of them.  It’s a shame, because I would have loved to be an active stepmom and would still like that.

Now, I am a devoted mom to my cat, Tinker Bell, as I was to Disney and Tiffany. My mom- well, my whole family- loved our pets, so their influence was present even as I cared for Disney and Tiffany as they coped with several illnesses. Today, as on most days, she is curled up next to me, napping and then waking up to chat and, I like to imagine that she is saying, “Happy Mother’s Day!”

My mom and our Standard Schnauzer, Dulcie. Miss them both!

On Disney’s “Gotcha Day,” February 18, 2019 at NYC’s Meow Parlour

Merida, from Disney’s Brave summed it up so well when she said, “I want you back, Mommy!” There is not a day that I don’t think of my mom and Grandma. I am proud to honor them on Mother’s Day, though in truth, I celebrate, treasure and miss them always. I wish a Happy Mother’s Day to mothers of all creatures, great and small, human and otherwise.