“Like time was standing still.” – OMD

Seven years seem like forever. Seven years seem like seven seconds.

I don’t get on Facebook much anymore, but sometimes I will just to see the “Facebook Memories” that pop up in my feed so that I can yet again be reminded of that ruthless unapologetic thief named Time. Several weeks ago I logged in and “On this day 7 years ago…” came up, but this particular post stuck with me a little longer than my normal passing glance. It was a picture posted by my high school friend Andrea from June of 2017, and it was of her parents and my parents posing outdoors for a picture together somewhere in Norman, Oklahoma most likely outside of Louie’s Bar & Grill or Charleston’s Restaurant, a couple of places my parents frequented while still living in Norman. The picture was particularly noteworthy, because it was just a few months later in 2017 that my dad would have a fall (one of several) that necessitated a lengthy stay in a skilled rehab facility. It also spurred the moving of my parents out of their house in Norman and into an assisted living facility closer to my wife and I in Rogers, Arkansas. My mom was in the early to middle years of her battle with dementia. My dad would recover from that particular fall in 2017, but another spill in May of 2021 would eventually lead to his death late in the summer of 2021.

We’ve always had time on our sides
Now it’s fading fast.

Several weeks ago I noticed my mom, now in the later stages of dementia, sleeping more, eating and engaging less. Several days ago, she was put under full time hospice care and on Saturday afternoon, June 29th she passed away peacefully with myself, my sister Kari, and her brother Rick near her bedside. Her grueling journey living with the cruelest of diseases had mercifully come to an end. It was both sad and happy at the same time. We laughed. We cried. We hugged. Now, she’ll be laid to rest in her beloved hometown of Pawhuska, Oklahoma where we’ll gather and laugh some more. We’ll cry some more. We’ll hug some more. And we’ll celebrate and reminisce about better days.

Biblically, the number seven represents completion and perfection, so nearly seven years since my parents moved here I know now they are both perfect and whole and together once again dancing and laughing and forever reunited. But through the seven years I’ve questioned God many times what the point was, what was He trying to teach her or me or anyone. Why couldn’t He heal her? Hell, why couldn’t he rid the whole world of dementia? We still have other diseases and plagues and cancer and unforeseen tragedies, so why do we need a mental disease that affects so many millions of people and loved ones every year? I tried negotiating. I yelled at Him. I argued with Him. I begged Him and pleaded that He end her suffering. I know that I will never fully understand nor receive the answers I sought this side of Heaven, and yet when He did end her suffering on Saturday, it still hurt. It still stung. That’s part of being human. And it continues to hurt and sting, but I’ll try to smile through the tears. I’ll try to laugh through the pain.

When I heard these lyrics from today’s post I had to pause again and ponder upon God’s perfect number, his perfect plan, and upon the last seven years in which I’ve had the distinct honor of helping to care for my parents. I haven’t done it by myself. There is no doubt about that. I may have been the point or the lead, but I could not have survived these past seven years truly without the undying and unwavering support of my wife, Rebekah, who made things go when I struggled. My sister Kari and her husband Nick stepped in and helped all while living in Wisconsin and raising two small children. Our daughter Caroline was amazing when called upon. My wonderful sister-in-laws, notably Roxanne, Sheila, and Sherry were unbelievable in the move from Norman seven years ago. My mom’s brother, my uncle Govan was always so encouraging and supportive and came for numerous visits through the years. There were also many friends and relatives that called, wrote, visited, and offered their support and love, and for that I will be forever grateful.

I feel like a chapter is closing. A chapter with some emotional highs and the lowest of lows, but a seven year span I wouldn’t trade for anything.

“Every second, every moment
We’ve got to, we’ve gotta make it last”

Perhaps OMD’s Andy McCluskey and Paul Humphreys hear their lyrics from their 1986 song and think the same thing: seven years seems like seven seconds, now.

Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark really only had two “hit” songs with “Enola Gay” being their other most recognizable song. But this particular song, OMD’s most famous, was written and recorded in under 24 hours for the popular “Pretty in Pink Soundtrack” and was featured prominently in the closing scene of the movie.

Director John Hughes was a big fan of the band and had enlisted them to write a song for the closing prom scene, which they did called “Goddess of Love.” But after the original ending of the movie tested poorly (Molly Ringwold’s character Andie ended up with Jon Cryer’s character, Duckie), an alternative ending was written and shot. The new and final ending has Molly choosing well… watch for yourself…

Because of the new ending, Hughes needed OMD to write and record a new song to replace “Goddess of Love,” that would fit with the new ending, instead. OMD obliged with “If You Leave,” written and recorded in under 24 hours.

Though my mom preferred yellow, she was beautiful in every color, loved clothes and being fashionable. I believe she would have appreciated Molly Ringwold’s fashion sense. This song was a defining staple of 80’s music and peaked at #4 in May of 1986 while I was finishing my freshman year at West Mid-High living in Norman, Oklahoma, and my mom was a teacher at a nearby elementary school.

The song itself is a perfect 80’s example of the ending of a chapter and the beginning of a new one. “If You Leave” comes from the perspective of a person who knows that the end of a relationship is near and is asking for just a little more time before the end.

McClusky described the song as “The end of high school… the ending of your childhood,” going on to say that they were trying to capture “this fear of what comes next.” I think what comes through is that teenage angst and urgency that occurs as chapters of lives end and new ones begin. The video sure goes over the top to relay those emotions as well. But some 35+ years after the release of this song, I think you can still listen to it and have similar feelings and urgencies but just maybe from a slightly different older, more mature perspective.

But what comes through as you watch that closing scene and hear this song is the heart-on-sleeve urgency of teen romance and really the urgency of life in general. It’s fleeting so love on your family and your friends with every moment you get.

As always, thanks for reading.

sincerely,

the80’s

The world won’t listen – growing up with Pretty in Pink