How do you say goodbye to the person who from the time they were three months old, fed your boys, changed their diapers, bathed them, put them down for naps, played with them hour upon hour, made them laugh every day, wiped their tears when they cried, picked them up when they fell, and loved them with her whole heart.
And loved them with her whole heart.
Carley Meade - JP and Joe's beloved nanny for so many years and Jude's and my friend for 20 years - was placed on hospice care this week. She's battled colon cancer for several years, sadly. She's had multiple surgeries, so many ups and downs, good days and a lot of bad days, but she's endured it all almost always with an indomitable spirt and an unparalleled love of life.
Carley and her husband, Jon, continued to travel, especially in the early days after her diagnosis. They continued to go see live music up until very recently. Most importantly to Carley, I think, she continued to nanny for various families, as she had done for almost two decades. That was the hard part for her, it seems, to be weakened by poor health to the point that she couldn't take care of children anymore, which was a calling for her.
I can't possibly tell the story of Carley and our family and do justice to the indelible impact she has had on our lives but I'm going to try.
Jude and I met Carley and her husband, Jon, through ultimate frisbee, of all things. In the early days of our relationship more than twenty years ago, the ultimate frisbee community in Nashville was a vibrant, fun loving, cohesive, social, and close knit group of people. When we started dating, Jude already was playing ultimate frisbee. She introduced me to the game and, more importantly, to the unique group of individuals who played it in Nashville. For that, I am eternally grateful.
So many trips, so many ultimate frisbee tournaments, so many summer leagues, so many parties, so many friendships. So many happy memories, almost all of which involve Carley. In those halcyon days of our relative youth, we traveled together to tournaments in Birmingham, Huntsville, Chattanooga, Knoxville, Memphis, Lexington, and Atlanta. As a group - no, as a family of sorts - we traveled like vagabonds across the South to play ultimate frisbee with each other.
Salsa Dave Turrell, Jon Meade, Johan Madson, Nancy Schelin, Carrie Plummer, Dan Bahen, Doctor Tombo, Chelencia, Monica, Aaron Cuz Moredock, Richard Gurley, Ben Ryan, Kris and Eric, Howard McNeely, Lynn Rodriquez, John Scala, Harriet Workman, Tony Brown, Kim Green, Hal Humphreys, Matt Hausman, Joanie Curry, Kelli McAbee, Chris Ma Bell, Howard Mertz, Brian Sword, et al. And, of course, right in the middle of everything, Carley Farley. Always smiling, always laughing, always having fun, and always - always - making others laugh.
Yes, her name before she married Jon Meade was Carley Farley. Of course it was.
In my mind, anyway, Carley, Jon and Salsa Dave became inseparable when Carley and Jon started dating. Three peas in a pod in many ways, forever going out to eat together at an out of the way restaurant with good, cheap food - who knew? - like Siam Cafe or La Hacienda on Nolensville Road. Going to concerts together. Playing silly, makeup games, often with a mini disc, in the house Or, of course, traveling together to ultimate frisbee tournaments.
Over time, of course, some things changed. In a way, I guess, we grew up. Hal and Kim got married, Jude and I got married and, yes, Jon and Carley got married, in 2005 or 2006, I think. The entire frisbee community traveled to Virginia en masse and stayed together in a lake house near a vacation home that belonged to Jon's family. It was a beautiful weekend together for all of us and to be there, in person, to celebrate the matrimonial union of Jon and Carley, two people at the center of our Nashville ultimate frisbee universe was special.
Time passed and things changed, as things are wont to do. Some of our group moved away, some got busy at work and some, like us, had children. The point being, of course, is that the ultimate frisbee torch for the most part was passed on to others, as so many of us moved into different phases of our lives. Jon continued to play competitively, however, and he and Carley traveled, really, around the world for ultimate frisbee tournaments. He even played for a time for the Nightwatch, Nashville's first professional ultimate frisbee team, now defunct.
Years earlier, Jude and I hoped Carley get started as a nanny, although she already had nannied for another couple from our ultimate frisbee community. We recommended her to friends of ours, also both attorneys, and Carley nannied for Philip and Chloe for several years. If memory serves, we played a small part in connecting Carley with other friends of ours who were attorneys, which led to her subsequently nannying for Elizabeth, then Virginia and Lydia, and, in later years, Jake. That's among other children, too. Many other children.
In the back of our minds, as we struggled to have children, Jude and I shared a nagging worry. What if we had a child and Carley wasn't available to nanny for us? What if we hooked her up with a family that she established a relationship with only to have her turn us down if and when we had a baby? For us, that was a very real concern.
In a story I've told in this space before, I know, Jude surprised me in, I think, August 2007, with news that she was pregnant. J.P. was born on March 28, 2008. And, as fate would have it, Carley was available to nanny for us on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays. So began a different, deepened, and more rewarding relationship between Carley and Jude and me. We had the privilege of witnessing firsthand what we already knew - Carley simply was a natural with children.
In fact - and I can say this with a measure of certainty - in my life, I have never seen anyone who is better at what they do than Carley was as a nanny.
J.P. and later, Joe, loved Carley, and she loved them right back with every fiber of her being.
It goes without saying - but I'll say it anyway - I could never repay the debt of gratitude I owe Carley for taking care of our boys those three days a week for more than six or seven years. To leave for work and know - I mean know - that J.P. or Joe (sometimes both) was safe, happy, and loved by Carley allowed Jude and me to work hard every day, sometimes for long hours, without worrying about the boys.
The relationship Carley had with each of my own sons was unique and on its own terms, as it should be, in my mind. Their age difference - roughly three and a half years - helped, because each boy had Carley to himself for the most part. What I mean is that Carley nannied for J.P. for more than three years before Joe arrived. Then, J.P. was off to school, full time, at Children's House while Carley nannied for Joe every day. In that way, each of my sons was able to form his own distinct bond with Carley.
It's hard to explain to someone who doesn't know her or for whom Carley hasn't nannied, but she was like Mary Poppins. The perfect nanny for our boys. Full of imagination, creativity, patience, and kindness. There was, seemingly, no limit to the number and variety of games Carley could conjure up to play with the boys.
Carley turned the short hallway in our small, old house on Elliott Avenue into a hockey rink! J.P. and, later, Joe, would stand at one end of the hall - stick in hand, wearing his hockey mask - and Carley would try to hit street hockey balls through his legs for a goal. Then, he would try to hit one through her legs. The boys loved this game and played for hours and hours. Starting lineups were announced, our guest room was the locker room in between periods, and I think, at some point, music was involved.
Amazingly, Carley created a basketball court in J.P.'s small bedroom upstairs in old house. She bought a basketball goal - like an old school Nerf hoop - and put it on the small door to storage space in his room. The door was about half the size of a normal door, so the hoop was the perfect height for him at three years old. She put electric blue tape on the floor and outlined a foul line and a lane. It was incredible - her creativity - because this was a really small bedroom and Carley's not the biggest sports fan. But, somehow, she knew that J.P. was, or would be, a sports fan.
J.P. played basketball on that hoop for hours at a time. Originally, he had a hard time making baskets. As time passed, he could touch the rim, and the, one day - suddenly or so it seemed to me - he could dunk on it. It's crazy, but I used to get home from work, lay on his bed, and throw him alley oops while Jude made dinner downstairs. J.P. was four years old, maybe four and a half. It was special.
When we moved out of our house on Elliott Avenue, one of the last things I did was to remove the electric blue tape from the floor of J.P.'s bedroom. Taking down that makeshift basketball court made me sad. It makes me sad, now, thinking about it. In our new house, the boys were bigger. They quickly broke the basketball hoop after we placed it on the door to my office, upstairs, in the playroom. Rather than throw it away, however, I saved it. I had too many memories of too many happy times to discard it.
Carley staged rock concerts with the boys and all of their lovies. In fact, she taught the boys to call their stuffed animals lovies. I think she and Jon got J.P. one of his first lovies, a small Smokey (Tennessee Vol) dog he sleeps with to this day.
The boys played grocery store, restaurant and many, many other games with Carley. Every day - literally every day - when I walked into the house, I couldn't help but smile in anticipation of what J.P., or Joe, and Carley would be playing, or doing, as I said hello after a long, sometimes stressful day at work.
They played outside and inside with Carley. They went on walks in the stroller through the neighborhood - a much different neighborhood than it is now. This was before 12South was really a thing. They walked to Sevier Park and played on the playground.
Sometimes, in the mornings, we would meet Carley at Bongo Java, where I would handoff J.P. or Joe to her for the day. When she was close, she'd call me and I'd order her a breakfast bagel. J.P. or Joe would light up - literally - when she walked into the coffee shop and sat down with us at our table.
Carley was on a first name basis with the librarian at Green Hills Library because she went there so often with one or the other of the boys. J.P. and Joe love to ready, which I love, given that I'm such an avid reader. I give a lot of credit to Carley for the boys' love of reading and the fact that they read so well.
Carley taught my boys' sign language when they were babies. As I write this, I can see J.P., and later, Joe, sitting in the high chair, banging fists together to sign for more milk. Wonder of wonders. Truly.
J.P. and I used to hide in the bushed outside our house or in our neighbor's yard and wait for Carley to arrive in the mornings. Even when she wasn't really surprised - when she could see us behind the giant maple tree in our front yard - she always acted surprised when we jumped out and tried to started her. J.P. laughed and laughed, every time, as Carley reacted with surprise, or mock surprise.
One day, somehow, someway, for no apparent reason, I invented the "Uncle Carley" song. I have no recollection of where it came from. I really don't. I wrote multiple, nonsensical rhyming lyrics, and J.P. and I, then later Joe, used to sing it to Carley almost every day. She feigned disdain - actually, it might have been real disdain because it was a silly song - but she always laughed and, when we finished, looked at J.P. or Joe and said, "Why I oughtta . . . ," shaking her fist, as the boys laughed and laughed.
Uncle Carley.
The first person listed in my favorite contacts on my cell phone is Uncle Carley. When I look her telephone number on my cell phone, there's a photo of her, holding Joe, at an ultimate frisbee tournament or a soccer game. It's a great photo.
I'm smiling as I write this and the memories of those days with Carley flood back. So many happy memories. It was a simpler, more innocent time for all of us on so many levels. I don't think I appreciated, at the time, how good things were. In fact, in retrospect, I know I didn't.
With our boys, Carley was an extension of Jude and me. She was family, plain and simple. It seemed like the boys' - and our - time with Carley a happy, reassuring presence in our daily lives. But, of course, all things end. All things.
I came across a post recently on this blog about Carley's last day of regularly taking care of J.P., just before he started kindergarten. It was the first sign, for me, that J.P. was growing up and that things were changing. Though to take for someone one like me - who doesn't like change - to take.
Of course, at that point, Carley still had Joe to take care of and I knew we had another run with her of at least three years. Carley had a special relationship with Joe. Not that her relationship with J.P. wasn't special, too, because it was. Perhaps because she knew it was her last Newman boy to take care of or perhaps because she knew how much Jude and I wanted J.P. to have a sibling, Carley really seemed to treasure her time with Joe.
Or, more likely, it's because Carley was taking care of Joe when she originally was diagnosed with colon cancer, which really sucked. That might explain part of her bond with him. For a time, while Carley was getting treatment, Jude's parents stepped in and took over for her and watched Joe while we were at work on Tuesday, Wednesdays, and Thursdays. If memory serves, Carley missed two or three months - during which time Joe missed her tremendously - then she was back with him three days a week, much to his, and our delight.
Carley and Joe, and our family, slipped back into our comfortable routines. Carley and Joe spent Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays together and, occasionally, Carley kept both boys if J.P. was out of school. They loved every minute of their time with her, and so did I.
And then, one day, Joe started kindergarten at University School and, just like that, our time with Carley in our lives on almost a daily basis was over. An era had passed, sure, but not one that my boys or Jude and me will ever forget. Not ever.
Carley's spirit - her very soul - inhabits our boys' very beings and is part of who they are. She is in there DNA, if you will. Their kindness, sensitivity, generosity, curiosity, sense of humor. So much of that is Carley. J.P. and Joe will carry her with them for the rest of their lives, wherever they go, and whoever they're with. And, one day, God willing, Carley will live on in J.P.'s and Joe's children.
As I write this - as I've struggled to write this for more than a week - Carley Meade is at Alive Hospice. She heroically fought colon cancer and a myriad of related illnesses for the past few years until, finally, a little more than two weeks ago, it was time to stop fighting.
Not quite three weeks ago, Jude and I were in New Orleans for the weekend with the boys to celebrate Jude's 50th birthday. Jon texted me late Sunday night to tell me that Carley was back in the hospital and that she was looking at palliative care options, including hospice care. I think she had been through so much that she was tired of surgeries, medication, side effects of medication, and pain. Tired of fighting.
As I lay in bed, everyone else sleeping, in a nondescript New Orleans hotel room on Royal, I read Jon's text, then reread it, then felt tears well up in my eyes.
What would my boys do without Carley? What would anyone do without Carley?
In many ways, that's the question I've been struggling with the past three weeks, in between my visits to see Carley and Jon, and their families, and our many mutual friends, first at Vanderbilt Hospital, then at Alive Hospice.
It's taken me three weeks, or more, to write this. It's hard to focus on, for me.
I have more to say about the last few weeks and the beauty I've seen and the love I've felt for Carley, and from Carley, at Alive Hospice. And, yes, the sadness I felt, and still feel, every day. For Carley, for Jon, for her family and friends, and for the many, many children who are losing their Carley.
Or, in my boys' case, their Uncle Carley.
J.P and Joe love you, Carley. Jude and all of your Flo teammates love you, Carley. And I love you, too.
Your indomitable spirit and love of life, your very soul, will live on on in all of us and, most especially, in J.P. and Joe.
1 comment:
Thank you for these 2 blogs, excellent to learn about Uncle Carley and her special bond with your family.
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