Robert Gottschlich's Blog - Posts Tagged "malibu"

“He moans a great deal. He doesn't complain of any particular pain but it’s there. The diabetes again, a gnawing in the bones. And the more he hurts, the less he recognizes where the pain is coming from. That’s the dementia.  He isn't sure where he is half the time and I have to hold his hand and talk him down much like you would an LSD freak-out.”

Excerpt From: Gottschlich, Robert. “Ten Acres in Malibu".

“I can't handle him,” she goes on. “I wish I could. And I can't ask the kids to leave their jobs and families. Kathleen would in a minute but she's not strong enough.”

   “I'm here for now,” I say, trying to reassure her but it sounds like I'm on my last legs, which I am.

    “We are going to make a decision at lunch tomorrow. It's against all that I believe in but I think it might be best to put him in a nursing home.”

   That is a big decision. Huge. “Let me know what you guys decide.”

   She shakes her head vehemently. “I want you at that meeting, Robert. You're like family now. You know him better than we do almost.”

Excerpt From: Gottschlich, Robert. “Ten Acres in Malibu."

Here is a poem I wrote about Peter.

I remember your body radiating like a giant crystal.
You let me witness you as a beautiful man.
I held your hands and showered you with ever lasting love.
I can’t get you out of my head, the talks we had and what you said, You impacted me greatly for you will never know.
Till we meet again my friend, watch me, guide me, till the end
Forever you are embedded in my soul….

  He passed at 6:03 in the morning on this thirteenth day of September. The family has gathered here in the guest room as they did before.

Excerpt From: Gottschlich, Robert. “Ten Acres in Malibu.”

http://www.amazon.com/Ten-Acres-In-Ma...

They loved this man so much. I saw it before but not the whole of it. Flashes of it, maybe. Sudden tears. Outbreaks of angry pain. By the time I came on board, they had already lost so much of him to his illness, his dementia. As often as not, he was a stranger to them, distant and brittle; sometimes harsh, at others crazed. Now in death, he has come back to them, defenseless and ready to be loved and praised. Everyone hugs me and tells me the same thing.

  “You did a wonderful job with Peter. Thank you so very, very much.”

    I was Peter's right hand man. His man Friday. I loved him. I was meant to take care of him and I was proud of the job I did.

Excerpt From: Gottschlich, Robert. “Ten Acres in Malibu.”

A year later, my mom decided to move us to Florida to live with my grandparents. I went along; I had no say. It fit my plan well in my case. Out of sight, out of mind. Memories of my father became memories of cold, unforgiving weather, of streets piled with black ice and trash. I was a blue sky, hot sand, warm water tropical kid now. Dads didn't live in these alligator climes. There was no danger of running into a dad down here in the sunny swamp.

Excerpt From: Gottschlich, Robert. “Ten Acres in Malibu.”

“Little did I know that this job I thought of as a joke, as a means to pay the bills until my real life got started, would change my life deeply and forever.”

Excerpt From: Gottschlich, Robert. “Ten Acres in Malibu.”

“He for the most part is quiet. He doesn’t thank her for the sandwich she makes him, doesn’t answer
when she asks him something, doesn’t look at her when she stands right in front of him and smiles, her love for him so very obvious I want to kick him. She is as invisible to him as he is to Jan. That’s how it seems, anyway.  He’s so used to tuning her out, when she accidentally backs into his chair, his eyes go wide and he throws up his arm to ward her off as if she’s someone he’s never seen before. Dementia, I remind myself. It’s a wicked thing.”

Excerpt From: Gottschlich, Robert. “Ten Acres in Malibu.”

“I am lying in bed, worn out, sleep deprived but I can't go back to sleep, knowing that at any moment my charge will be awake. My mind is a wreck. I watch the early morning sun shoot through the blinds and dance on the Spanish tile floor. Outside, a hawk is up, circling and screeching in the morning sky.”

Excerpt From: Gottschlich, Robert. “Ten Acres in Malibu.”

We're standing in the small clearing behind the guesthouse. Peter is watching Deal or no deal on TV. While Jan enjoys a secret cigarette, I watch the fog burn off the pink rocks on the hill above the property, revealing mustard plants in yellow ribbons a few bushes at a time. Jan puts her ciggy out on the sole of one of her white therapeutic shoes and puts the butt back into the red and white Marlboro box. She peels open a bag of Planter's Spanish peanuts. “I'm sorry if your parents are dead or something,” she says into my silence.