My Bed(room)?

Nothing tawdry here.. move along, move along. Actually, what has my interest today, is a pair of articles that I saw in this past Sunday's Star-Telegram. Specifically, they deal with the master bedroom. I'll update this post if I can find the links.

The first article discusses parents yielding their beds to their children. It describes many parents who, rather then fight their children's habit of crawling into bed with them in the middle of the night, either accept the children into their bed with them, or get up out of their own bed and go sleep in their child's. I know this happens. It happened this morning. But the people the story is writing about have it happen to them every night. This isn't just a problem, it's a bad habit. I'm amazed that people would let it go on for so long that this habit would set in. Maybe their bed is bigger then mine, but as it is, between my wife, myself, and the dog (small), I barely have enough room for myself. Add a child into that, and I may as well sleep elsewhere. And usually not sleeping in my bed means waking up in pain, if I get to sleep at all. Therefore, this has been an easy call for me. No children in my bed. That attitude also makes it easy for me to shut and lock the bedroom door when I need to. (wink wink)

The second article details how architects are designing new homes with dual master suites in order to accommodate a growing number of spouses who wish to sleep separately. This is something else I do not understand. Yes, both my wife and I have chosen, on the rare occasion (sickness usually, though restlessness has kept me out of the bed for half of a night before) one of us will chose to not sleep in the same bed, but that is rare. This is another thing that, to me, appears to be a bad habit that people have fallen into. In the article, it states that the couples don't suffer sexually, and their marriages are bettor for the separation, but I can honestly say that I don't ever foresee that happening to me. There is too much non-sexual touching and physical intimateness that goes on to split us up between two rooms. Besides, it aides spur of the moment sexual touching.

(This is also not to knock the dual master suite setup for something it's really good for, namely non-intimate cohabitational relationships among equals, i.e. roommates. This setup was a fairly popular apartment layout in Austin when I was in college.)

Why did I choose to write about these. It's not particularly revetting. I guess they just caught my eye this weekend, and the coincidence of my daughter crawling into my bed last night just kept it in the center of my mind recently.

Update 2007-03-15 9:06 PM CDT: Added links.

Life rears it's head

Between work and home life, I haven't been as able to post recently as I want to. I figure that it's a good idea to post something just to get back in the swing of things.

Calling the Kettle Black

In the session, the young man is affable.
Light-Hearted contrarian,
he argues for the debate.

In the group, his stories induce
hearty laughs among all,
but some see other reasons.

In the late night, he stands
alone.
The rain falls as he stares
with bloodshot eyes.

Feelings

Since I received news that my grandmother had died, I have noticed that my feelings appear to be amplified somewhat. I am more quick to anger, and more joyously in love. I feel more empathetic to others' feelings. I don't know if this is because I am paying more attention to mine and others' feelings, or what. So far it's a mixed bag, with a slight tilt to the positive.

Update(1:33 PM): I just left the funeral for Laura's husband. I don't know if it was the service, or just belated emotion from my grandmother's funeral, but this was powerful. I cried many times during the service, and I didn't at my grandmothers. It felt good to cry there with so many others also crying. I felt the pain when the deceased's uncle thanked Kevin for doing all that he could.

There are two quotes that struck me while looking into what to say, and what not to say at a funeral.
"The funeral not only is a declaration that a death has occurred, it also is testimony that a life has been lived."
"The funeral provides the fitting climate for expressing our true feelings. Pain suffered in solitude is harder to bear than anguish which is shared."

Unthinkable

Earlier this week, while trying to help my mother go through my grandmothers things, I received a call from a friend at work. Based on her voice, I knew she wasn't calling about work. My thoughts instantly flash to her daughter. I was wrong.

Thirty minutes later, I am over at a mutual friends house. Her husband had diedthe day before. Her brother was there when it happened. Her brother tried to prevent it. But he couldn't.

I feel so bad for my friend. She has lost her husband, the father of her child. I feel so bad for her young daughter. She lost her father when she was so young. She won't have him to look over her, to play tea party with her.

I really feel bad for my friend's brother. His close friend, his sister's husband, his niece's father.

It's a nightmare that will take a long, long time for him leave behind. I know they will. I hope he can.

Stress

With the funeral for my Grandmother coming up on Thursday, and the move from our current building to our new building at work, I am under a little stress. I woke up last night with a severe headache caused by the stress knots in my neck. I need to forget about the funeral for the next day, and focus on what I can do to move the move forward.

Loss

At about 12:45 Am this morning, I got a phone call. My maternal grandmother had died.

It wasn't unexpected. She had been diagnosed with cancer(melanoma) of the liver in the late spring of last year. She had a small series of minor strokes that culminated at about that time. While she could communicate, it did impair her speech, preventing her from finding the right word. When she was released from the hospital last June, after the last stroke and the cancer diagnosis, the doctors thought it was only a matter of a couple months at most. I know that those predictions are not always accurate, but the doctor is trying to give the patients and their families a realistic expectation based on the condition that they are currently observing. At this point, i started steeling myself for the inevitable.

Just before last Christmas, she started to take a turn for the worse. She had been losing weight, but all of the sudden, she dropped a lot, and needed help to get around. After Christmas, she started using a wheelchair and using a hospital bed instead of her regular bed. For the last few weeks, she was confined to her bed.

I received the phone call last night, and while not fully awake, I understood.

Like I said, I've had a while to prepare. But you are never prepared.

I miss her.