My husband and I have been together for 11 yrs now. During our time we have had many ups and downs, like all couples. Together we have also been through some unusually difficult circumstances. I had lost both of my parents by the time I was 27 and my husband and I lost our oldest son almost 3 years ago, still in our late twenties. This experiences was a make it or break it for us. I was at the point in my life where I no longer cared to make it work. It almost seemed easier to give up on us and start fresh. They say to make a relationship work, both people have to want it. Maybe that is true for many, but in our case Shane wanted it and I allowed it, I tolerated it. At our worst moments, I did not want it. Much can happen in three years. We are not perfect, who is, but I have a renewed sense of hope and want. I want to let my husband know that I love him and appreciate him. I am sick of keeping score. For the next 32 days I am committed to being a giver in our relationship.
Day 1-made Shane dinner, brought it to him and scratched his back while he dozed off on my lap :-)
Day 2-rented the hobbit for him, and bonded over some McDonald's playland time. This may sound kinda simple, but we never really go out and it was surprisingly sweet to share a booth while the kids burned off some energy. A rude mother made a snarky comment about my beautiful little girls unique sense of style and my hubby let her know she was being nasty. I am not as outgoing as he is and for that moment he was my hero!!! He handled it with Shane style :-)
Day 3- Yay Friday!! My husband and I really didn't do anything special. He got off work early, my daughter had a sleepover with my friends daughter. The weather was amazing outside, yet it ended up being one of the evenings that flew by. It was a day for him to spend time with Isaiah and I talked with my friend Tracey and then went to bed.
Day 4- Saturday...Two birthday parties to go to, a broke down mini van to fix, and three weeks worth of laundry (I only did the minimum while my best friend was in town and now it bites me in the butt, we have nothing to wear ; )So day four was stressful to say the least. In spite of the craziness, I made him a nice breakfast in bed. Also it was a day with Shane's family, the first b-day party was for two of our nephews. Shane's sister has a very strong personality. She has a mood disorder. Luckily she was in a great mood and the party turned out great. Shane however made a very rude comment about my dead mother in front of most of his family. There went my attempt at niceness. The day was pretty much ruined for me and him, I avoided him as much as possible the rest of the night.
Day 5- Sunday was cleaning and laundry day. He actually helped me fold and put away a mountain of clothes. I think he was trying to make up for Saturday. Even so we were both in bad moods. We talked about things but it still doesn't feel resolved.
Day 6-It's Monday, what can I say? Actually I woke up convinced after crying myself to so called sleep last night, that the best thing I could do for myself today was get the kids off to school and go back to bed, but after finishing up my algebra homework I had a change of heart. I dragged my self to school, and I'm glad! We covered some important things in each class. As I drove home in a mess of fat snowflakes, I decided to make stew for dinner. Shane came home in a great mood (or maybe it was the delicious smell of dinner, either way he seemed happy) He was very attentive and after dinner I was happy to let him veg out with the guys to some call of duty without complaint. Good deed done for the day!!!
Day 7-Tuesday both the hubby and I were in a kind of blah mood. Still we did our best not to take it out on eachother. It is almost my daughters birthday, and our son who passed away, his birthday is the day after hers. This time of year sucks!!! Its beautiful and Spring is all about life. In my family there are 11 birthdays, 2 of my kids, the hubbys, sister, brother, brother in law and 4 nephews and one best friend. We are often more broke this time of year than at Christmas time. It is still very hard to deal with Shines birthday yet we have to be strong for Kayla and all the others. Last night we watched the first episode of Resurrection. People have been talking about it but I didn't think I was strong enough to watch a show about the dead returning. Especially when a main charactor is an 8 yr old boy. My son was 9. Anyway, together we watched it and went on to watch 3 more episodes. Together we also held hands and cried. I think it was a much needed cry though. People handle grief differently and I think men and women are very different. It was nice to come together, in our quiet little way. I am going to have to take it one day at a time, just like I have been, and hopefully I can find the strength to make Shane feel special on his birthday, 3 days after Shine's.
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
Wednesday, March 26, 2014
I will never do that again free write. Where do I began. This girl has made many many choices that I will not be repeating. I will never again turn my car without looking ahead. I have been in a few accidents. All of them I was talking and distracted. I was also an inexperienced teenager who probably had no business having a drivers license. I will try to think of a recent mistake that is not too deep. I will never again let my van get so messy. Just kidding, I am sure it will happen again, but I do say this to myself every time I clean it out. Kids are messy and I tell myself they will have to start cleaning up after themselves but sometimes it is just quicker for me to do it. I will never again drink 2 bottles of wine to myself. It is hell to pay the next day. I will never again cook meat in my silver skillet, it always burns if not stirred constantly and I have burned the meat too many times to give that skillet another chance, veggies only for now on.
Missy had light hair,sort of sunny and golden.Weaved throughout her locks natural highlights of a platinum color. She must have spent a lot of time outdoors.
the formerly Sweet little char abed face now grimaced with crocodile tears. He let out a wail of pure hatred as his parents attempted to strap him down in the car seat. Back and forth the child kicked his feet and flung his arms, any thing he could do to make mom's task difficult.
Chassy and Brandon will be here in about an hour. Wheres Kale and Alec? My kids have already asked me this question a dozen times. I still need to fold the mountain of laundry on my bed or I wont have a place to sleep tonight, and I decided to have company for dinner. Enchiladas at that. Well the meat is still frozen so I will go ahead and throw it in the pot on low with a little water. I can check it in about 20 min and it will be ready to break up. I do not have enough canned enchilada sauce so I will make some from scratch really quick. I let it simmer and go back to folding laundry. I'm hungry the kids start to whine. Dinner is cooking!! I break up the meat and throw some seasonings in, a pinch of this a dash of that. Nothing in my kitchen is measured, unless I am baking some kind of bread or something like that. I go outside and smoke a quick cigg, trying to quit but sometimes I sneak one when I am stressed. Back inside wash my hands, time to get serious. The meat is looking good so now I need to add the secret ingredient, canned beef with gravy. This is my mother in laws recipe, of course I have to tweak it a little.Not because hers isn't amazing, it is honestly one of my favorite dishes that she makes. I have to change it up because I don't want to go to the store so I used what I had on hand. I only have one can of the beef and she uses two. I don't have quite as much meat so my enchiladas are just a little under filled. I compensate with extra cheese and sauce, and as I said earlier I had to make some sauce from scratch. Personally I think it tastes better that way. I dip the tortillas in the warm sauce.
Be ready beginning of class friday
include reason why food is important
Story
process
Missy had light hair,sort of sunny and golden.Weaved throughout her locks natural highlights of a platinum color. She must have spent a lot of time outdoors.
the formerly Sweet little char abed face now grimaced with crocodile tears. He let out a wail of pure hatred as his parents attempted to strap him down in the car seat. Back and forth the child kicked his feet and flung his arms, any thing he could do to make mom's task difficult.
Chassy and Brandon will be here in about an hour. Wheres Kale and Alec? My kids have already asked me this question a dozen times. I still need to fold the mountain of laundry on my bed or I wont have a place to sleep tonight, and I decided to have company for dinner. Enchiladas at that. Well the meat is still frozen so I will go ahead and throw it in the pot on low with a little water. I can check it in about 20 min and it will be ready to break up. I do not have enough canned enchilada sauce so I will make some from scratch really quick. I let it simmer and go back to folding laundry. I'm hungry the kids start to whine. Dinner is cooking!! I break up the meat and throw some seasonings in, a pinch of this a dash of that. Nothing in my kitchen is measured, unless I am baking some kind of bread or something like that. I go outside and smoke a quick cigg, trying to quit but sometimes I sneak one when I am stressed. Back inside wash my hands, time to get serious. The meat is looking good so now I need to add the secret ingredient, canned beef with gravy. This is my mother in laws recipe, of course I have to tweak it a little.Not because hers isn't amazing, it is honestly one of my favorite dishes that she makes. I have to change it up because I don't want to go to the store so I used what I had on hand. I only have one can of the beef and she uses two. I don't have quite as much meat so my enchiladas are just a little under filled. I compensate with extra cheese and sauce, and as I said earlier I had to make some sauce from scratch. Personally I think it tastes better that way. I dip the tortillas in the warm sauce.
Be ready beginning of class friday
include reason why food is important
Story
process
Wednesday, March 19, 2014
senses freewrite
Colorful southern lizards, in a circle, crawling on a silky bright piece of fabric. a blue and white feather is in the middle. the colors remind me of Mexico. the tail of the yellow lizard curled up like my pug. They are playful. the lizards are in the sun and the feather has a shadow so it seems to be drifting down as the lizards gaze up on it.
I would rather be at my tiny rock house on old orchard. Our first little home reminds me of a fairytale cottage. This is a place where dreams are made and I come home to my neighborhood. The back yard has the perfect misshapen apple tree. at some point the tree was struck by lighting. The tiny green apples are just becoming sweet and the deformity from the lighting is the perfect place for my sweet young children to climb or hide toys in. The sun shines on the giant back yard and there is the smell of fresh grass. My dad sits on the porch with his pocket knife peeling the apples for my son and daughter. My oldest rides his three wheeler down the little sidewalk, it's the perfect road. As a child, I remember steeling those apples from our next door neighbor. As I walk inside the kitchen I can see my colorful teal walls. The red picture with a latte and a pretty butterfly picture on the other wall. I can see a tiny bedroom. The closet is big and the lilac color on the wall is relaxing. In the living room is our tan loveseat.
The house smells old, and a little musty. I can smell the home cooked dinners and a scented candle. My sweet babies smell like a mixture of lavender baby wash, dirt and grass. Outside there is the strong smell of flowers. My dad hugs me and I smell his hair doused with baby oil. He has a very earthy sent, mixed with the stale smell of cigarettes.
The ground beneath my feet is cold and rocky. As I walk to the side of the house the kids climb the giant tree. It is prickly. The tan loveseat is very soft and relaxing. Shane and I could curl up together and fall asleep. The walls feel rough and thin. The carpet is definitely cheep. It is very rough on our feet. The windows are cold, even with the sun shinning through. It is the thick glass, very heavy.
I hear kids laughing and crying. Shane has the music up loud and the flow of his music is energizing and unnerving. I hear the cars speed down the street and I feel irritated. What if the kids get too close. The neighbors stay up late, young college kids. The drunk voices and laughter makes me angry. I have to wake up with the baby. I hear my own voice yelling and crying. I hear my mom trying to calm me down. I hear Shine laughing and yelling at the top of his little lungs. I hear Chassy and Brandon with there game night bickers.
I taste steak San Marco. from the slow cooker. My dad tells me it's the best steak he's ever had as he gobbles it up. I taste Christmas cookies, peppermint. I taste our first BBQ, Shane's burgers where extra crispy as this was his first time cooking for 30+ people. I taste cold coffee. My dad scoffs, He doesn't understand. It is so sweet and creamy with the energizing nutty bitterness of the coffee.
Walking up the stairs, 6mth pregnant feeling like a whale, my dad proudly took me around with a large heavily made up Realtor grinning ear to ear. My dad tells her this is my daughter and she looks at my quite shocked. He is too old, I see it in her eyes. As they show me the rooms I am late for work. and impatient. I can paint and replace the carpet. It will do, I will make it work. I am as happy as can be. The Realtor pulls me aside and tells me my dad had a bit of an episode while signing the papers. He was shocked at the closing costs. They were supposed to be much less. She told me that he was very worked up and that I should keep an eye on him. I thought to myself, she doesn't know me very well, but I have been keeping an eye on him for years.
New Blog
My first home is the happiest of wonderlands. The memories our family created there will be forever ingrained in my mind. This home is the last place my family was truly whole. The tiny little rock house was the type of place you would drive right past with out the need for a second glance. To me, it looked like a small cottage out of a fairytale. It sat on nearly half an acre, a little ways back from old orchard street. Beautiful evergreen trees enclosed the property this created a secluded feel. I had grown up on that street. The best thing about the home, my dad lived next door. I had gazed at the little house many times through my bedroom window. My friends and I would make up stories about the possible residence of the place. It had on old fashioned charm about it. Growing up, the house was almost always empty. I used to steal the little sweet green apples from the back. When this little charmer became my own, my dad would peel the green apples for my children with his pocket knife.
My first impression of the inside was a little pang of panic. The musty smell of old people enveloped the room. It was quite small and had horrible wood paneling. I knew my dad was counting on our approval though and I had made up my mind that I would make it work. I could always paint the paneling. It was gonna be mine, I could do what ever fixing up I felt necessary. In my mind I could already see the large vegetable garden. My backyard was sunny and the earth itself felt like home. I already knew the trees intimately. They were my playground as a child. The giant evergreen next to the house would someday be glowing bright with beautiful Christmas lights. I felt optimistic about creating a new life for our family there.
In the beginning I felt some concern about being so close to my dad. I loved him dearly, but he could be a bit controlling and I believed myself independent. I had three kids and a husband. Little did I know that his morning visits would turn out to be the best part of my day. I revamped my little cottage with lots of paint and elbow grease and it ended up being quite a nice place. The musty old home now smelled of baby powder, scented candles and home cooked dinners. My dad helped us touch up some of the odds and ends on the outside. We bought a swing set and some hanging plants for the covered porch. We made it very cozy.
Daddy popped over with Neapolitan ice cream and pockets full of peppermints to keep my little ones exited to see him. My little toddlers would ride their 3 wheelers around the sidewalk that circled the house. My husband kept quite busy with all of my dads improvement projects. They made plans to add a pool table to the garage. Together they imagined the ultimate man cave. My babies got to know and love their grandpa. Our world for such a brief moment in time, was perfect. My mom was only three blocks away. It was always funny watching my dad scurry off when my mom got there. He loved her in his way, he really loved to piss her off honestly. She would gush over the grandkids, yet he was sure he was the favorite. All the sweet treats he bought us, he was sure he had grampa of the year in the bag.
Within a few months our fairytale came to an end. One lazy afternoon daddy was relaxing on the front porch, listening to the kids laugh and bicker. My dad saw my daughter dart out near the street after a bright red ball. He jumped up so fast to stop her it startled her and she cried like you wouldn't believe. Grandpa had never yelled like that before. After his adrenaline rush normalized, he was hit with excruciating back pain. Every day the pain seemed to worsen. Eventually I convinced him to go to the doctor. He was diagnosed with lung cancer and died about two months later.
My beautiful little cottage was never the same. Suddenly it became dark and the empty lawn chair in the front looked so cold and lonely. The large yard became an unmanageable jungle of grass and weeds. The rooms inside seemed to shrink with every passing day. Still I was determined to stick it out. The first winter without my dad our furnace needed replaced. It was the year of the Great Ice Storm of 2007. The realities of owning an old home seemed to pile up, building strength with each new disaster. My mother was also ill at this time. After her death I couldn't bear to stay on old orchard street. Every memory seemed to stab at me. My heart was broken. We soon decided to buy a bigger newer home. After 4 years in our current home I realize that I couldn't run away from my grief. I miss that old house, but more than that I miss the people I shared my life with. Everything changes and sometimes we have to go with the flow of it. During our time in our old house I thought I knew that the material world doesn't make a person happy. After moving away, and trying to out run the memories I am positive that for me it is the people that make the place worthwhile, memories and all.
I would rather be at my tiny rock house on old orchard. Our first little home reminds me of a fairytale cottage. This is a place where dreams are made and I come home to my neighborhood. The back yard has the perfect misshapen apple tree. at some point the tree was struck by lighting. The tiny green apples are just becoming sweet and the deformity from the lighting is the perfect place for my sweet young children to climb or hide toys in. The sun shines on the giant back yard and there is the smell of fresh grass. My dad sits on the porch with his pocket knife peeling the apples for my son and daughter. My oldest rides his three wheeler down the little sidewalk, it's the perfect road. As a child, I remember steeling those apples from our next door neighbor. As I walk inside the kitchen I can see my colorful teal walls. The red picture with a latte and a pretty butterfly picture on the other wall. I can see a tiny bedroom. The closet is big and the lilac color on the wall is relaxing. In the living room is our tan loveseat.
The house smells old, and a little musty. I can smell the home cooked dinners and a scented candle. My sweet babies smell like a mixture of lavender baby wash, dirt and grass. Outside there is the strong smell of flowers. My dad hugs me and I smell his hair doused with baby oil. He has a very earthy sent, mixed with the stale smell of cigarettes.
The ground beneath my feet is cold and rocky. As I walk to the side of the house the kids climb the giant tree. It is prickly. The tan loveseat is very soft and relaxing. Shane and I could curl up together and fall asleep. The walls feel rough and thin. The carpet is definitely cheep. It is very rough on our feet. The windows are cold, even with the sun shinning through. It is the thick glass, very heavy.
I hear kids laughing and crying. Shane has the music up loud and the flow of his music is energizing and unnerving. I hear the cars speed down the street and I feel irritated. What if the kids get too close. The neighbors stay up late, young college kids. The drunk voices and laughter makes me angry. I have to wake up with the baby. I hear my own voice yelling and crying. I hear my mom trying to calm me down. I hear Shine laughing and yelling at the top of his little lungs. I hear Chassy and Brandon with there game night bickers.
I taste steak San Marco. from the slow cooker. My dad tells me it's the best steak he's ever had as he gobbles it up. I taste Christmas cookies, peppermint. I taste our first BBQ, Shane's burgers where extra crispy as this was his first time cooking for 30+ people. I taste cold coffee. My dad scoffs, He doesn't understand. It is so sweet and creamy with the energizing nutty bitterness of the coffee.
Walking up the stairs, 6mth pregnant feeling like a whale, my dad proudly took me around with a large heavily made up Realtor grinning ear to ear. My dad tells her this is my daughter and she looks at my quite shocked. He is too old, I see it in her eyes. As they show me the rooms I am late for work. and impatient. I can paint and replace the carpet. It will do, I will make it work. I am as happy as can be. The Realtor pulls me aside and tells me my dad had a bit of an episode while signing the papers. He was shocked at the closing costs. They were supposed to be much less. She told me that he was very worked up and that I should keep an eye on him. I thought to myself, she doesn't know me very well, but I have been keeping an eye on him for years.
New Blog
My first home is the happiest of wonderlands. The memories our family created there will be forever ingrained in my mind. This home is the last place my family was truly whole. The tiny little rock house was the type of place you would drive right past with out the need for a second glance. To me, it looked like a small cottage out of a fairytale. It sat on nearly half an acre, a little ways back from old orchard street. Beautiful evergreen trees enclosed the property this created a secluded feel. I had grown up on that street. The best thing about the home, my dad lived next door. I had gazed at the little house many times through my bedroom window. My friends and I would make up stories about the possible residence of the place. It had on old fashioned charm about it. Growing up, the house was almost always empty. I used to steal the little sweet green apples from the back. When this little charmer became my own, my dad would peel the green apples for my children with his pocket knife.
My first impression of the inside was a little pang of panic. The musty smell of old people enveloped the room. It was quite small and had horrible wood paneling. I knew my dad was counting on our approval though and I had made up my mind that I would make it work. I could always paint the paneling. It was gonna be mine, I could do what ever fixing up I felt necessary. In my mind I could already see the large vegetable garden. My backyard was sunny and the earth itself felt like home. I already knew the trees intimately. They were my playground as a child. The giant evergreen next to the house would someday be glowing bright with beautiful Christmas lights. I felt optimistic about creating a new life for our family there.
In the beginning I felt some concern about being so close to my dad. I loved him dearly, but he could be a bit controlling and I believed myself independent. I had three kids and a husband. Little did I know that his morning visits would turn out to be the best part of my day. I revamped my little cottage with lots of paint and elbow grease and it ended up being quite a nice place. The musty old home now smelled of baby powder, scented candles and home cooked dinners. My dad helped us touch up some of the odds and ends on the outside. We bought a swing set and some hanging plants for the covered porch. We made it very cozy.
Daddy popped over with Neapolitan ice cream and pockets full of peppermints to keep my little ones exited to see him. My little toddlers would ride their 3 wheelers around the sidewalk that circled the house. My husband kept quite busy with all of my dads improvement projects. They made plans to add a pool table to the garage. Together they imagined the ultimate man cave. My babies got to know and love their grandpa. Our world for such a brief moment in time, was perfect. My mom was only three blocks away. It was always funny watching my dad scurry off when my mom got there. He loved her in his way, he really loved to piss her off honestly. She would gush over the grandkids, yet he was sure he was the favorite. All the sweet treats he bought us, he was sure he had grampa of the year in the bag.
Within a few months our fairytale came to an end. One lazy afternoon daddy was relaxing on the front porch, listening to the kids laugh and bicker. My dad saw my daughter dart out near the street after a bright red ball. He jumped up so fast to stop her it startled her and she cried like you wouldn't believe. Grandpa had never yelled like that before. After his adrenaline rush normalized, he was hit with excruciating back pain. Every day the pain seemed to worsen. Eventually I convinced him to go to the doctor. He was diagnosed with lung cancer and died about two months later.
My beautiful little cottage was never the same. Suddenly it became dark and the empty lawn chair in the front looked so cold and lonely. The large yard became an unmanageable jungle of grass and weeds. The rooms inside seemed to shrink with every passing day. Still I was determined to stick it out. The first winter without my dad our furnace needed replaced. It was the year of the Great Ice Storm of 2007. The realities of owning an old home seemed to pile up, building strength with each new disaster. My mother was also ill at this time. After her death I couldn't bear to stay on old orchard street. Every memory seemed to stab at me. My heart was broken. We soon decided to buy a bigger newer home. After 4 years in our current home I realize that I couldn't run away from my grief. I miss that old house, but more than that I miss the people I shared my life with. Everything changes and sometimes we have to go with the flow of it. During our time in our old house I thought I knew that the material world doesn't make a person happy. After moving away, and trying to out run the memories I am positive that for me it is the people that make the place worthwhile, memories and all.
Friday, March 7, 2014
my happy heaven and yucky hell
This week my heavens included watching some old videos of my kids and my son that passed away. There were also some with my nephews. These videos are about two-three years old and they reminded me of how sweet and naughty kids are. Many of them were recorded with out the kids knowing, so they are being completely authentic. They are free from pressure from adults to behave in a certain way. It was also nice to realize that watching them now feels very different from watching them a year ago. I also had a dream about my first "love". He is dead now, but when I dream about him it is always very intense. I often here songs that were our songs, and I just have him in the back of my mind for the day. This is a bit of hell and heaven. I love my husband and it is the real love that can handle obstacles. My first was not that deep and maybe in a way deeper. It was all about feelings and none of it was about the real world around us. I think that I am over the ex but the intense feelings that this relationship produced are always glorified in my mind.
Wednesday, March 5, 2014
Stacy spent the last few years in San Diego, trying to make it big. After the release of her first two cd's, dog walking was still her primary job. Original starting out in Springfield Missouri, her move to Cali was part of an awesome plan to build a singing career. Stacy had an amazing group of friends. Each on of them supporting her in their own unique way. Cristin, her ex stepsister, remained a close part of Stacys life, regardless of the ex in step. Stacy complained about getting nowhere with her music.
Monday, February 24, 2014
There is Life After Death
This I Believe: Essay
Experiencing the death of a loved one has the
power to throw us into the dark abyss of the unknown. There
is nothing more powerful at testing our faith then loss. Questions
about God, the soul and an afterlife begin to arise as our minds
attempt to make sense of what was and what is. I believe there is
an afterlife. I believe that if we pay attention, our loved one's let us
know they are okay.
I began my own personal journey of loss with the death of
my father. He was 55 years old when I was born and it did not take
me long to realize my time with him might be limited. As a thoughtless
and innocent child I remember asking him questions like "Why did you
wait so long to have me?" and "What if you die soon because you are so
old?" He would answer me with "Daddy's live forever." I knew better of
course, but like many of the tall tales he told, there where layers of truth
in his reassuring statement. I believe our impact on this world is
everlasting.
My dad got sick right after my youngest son was born. We lived
next door to him. My mother lived three blocks away. They were just like
an old married couple, only in separate houses. "Happily divorced" my
mom would say. They took each other to doctors appointments and he
would give her chocolate on her birthday or Valentines day. It was fitting
that she would be there till the end.
My mom and I had been at the hospital for two straight days. We
had been told my dad didn't have long. She encouraged me to go home
to my kids and I told her to go home and rest. She was looking ill. We
argued about leaving. She convinced me to go home, shower and feed
my baby. When I got back my sister met me in he lobby and told me my
mom had a heart attack. My dad's response was, "Awe hell Margaret!"
His heart doctor took me into a little private room and told me he couldn't
help my dad, but he thought he could save my mom. The day after
Thanksgiving she had a double bypass. By this time my dad was
comatose and on comfort measures.
After my mom's surgery, I went upstairs to tell him it was okay.
I sat in the cold quite room, hot cup of coffee in hand. My face was
tear stainedand I was completely exhausted. I whispered that my sister
and I would take care of each other. I told him his mother was waiting for
him and it was okay to go. I would be alright. I didn't think he would
listen, but he looked scared and in pain. Sure enough, the nurse called
me at 12:01 am that night/morning to tell me he was gone. I waited a full
day tell my mom. She was out of it the day before, so I didn't really have
a choice. I said "Daddy's gone," and she told me she knew. My mom
said he had visited her in his favorite blue shirt. He was smiling. I
believe he did visit her.
Almost three years later her health had only gotten worse. She
was in the hospital off and on for about a year and the doctors could not
figure out what was wrong with her. Eventually they settled on
encephalopathy, a fancy way of saying her brain was shutting down.
I took my youngest son to the hospital with me. He had just
turned 3. Although my mom was not herself, being near the grand kids
seemed to make her better. He sat on the bed with her and said while
pointing to the empty bed next to her, "that's grandpa's bed." I laughed
out. He had never really been around any grandpa's and I had never heard
say that word.
Experiencing the death of a loved one has the
power to throw us into the dark abyss of the unknown. There
is nothing more powerful at testing our faith then loss. Questions
about God, the soul and an afterlife begin to arise as our minds
attempt to make sense of what was and what is. I believe there is
an afterlife. I believe that if we pay attention, our loved one's let us
know they are okay.
I began my own personal journey of loss with the death of
my father. He was 55 years old when I was born and it did not take
me long to realize my time with him might be limited. As a thoughtless
and innocent child I remember asking him questions like "Why did you
wait so long to have me?" and "What if you die soon because you are so
old?" He would answer me with "Daddy's live forever." I knew better of
course, but like many of the tall tales he told, there where layers of truth
in his reassuring statement. I believe our impact on this world is
everlasting.
My dad got sick right after my youngest son was born. We lived
next door to him. My mother lived three blocks away. They were just like
an old married couple, only in separate houses. "Happily divorced" my
mom would say. They took each other to doctors appointments and he
would give her chocolate on her birthday or Valentines day. It was fitting
that she would be there till the end.
My mom and I had been at the hospital for two straight days. We
had been told my dad didn't have long. She encouraged me to go home
to my kids and I told her to go home and rest. She was looking ill. We
argued about leaving. She convinced me to go home, shower and feed
my baby. When I got back my sister met me in he lobby and told me my
mom had a heart attack. My dad's response was, "Awe hell Margaret!"
His heart doctor took me into a little private room and told me he couldn't
help my dad, but he thought he could save my mom. The day after
Thanksgiving she had a double bypass. By this time my dad was
comatose and on comfort measures.
After my mom's surgery, I went upstairs to tell him it was okay.
I sat in the cold quite room, hot cup of coffee in hand. My face was
tear stainedand I was completely exhausted. I whispered that my sister
and I would take care of each other. I told him his mother was waiting for
him and it was okay to go. I would be alright. I didn't think he would
listen, but he looked scared and in pain. Sure enough, the nurse called
me at 12:01 am that night/morning to tell me he was gone. I waited a full
day tell my mom. She was out of it the day before, so I didn't really have
a choice. I said "Daddy's gone," and she told me she knew. My mom
said he had visited her in his favorite blue shirt. He was smiling. I
believe he did visit her.
Almost three years later her health had only gotten worse. She
was in the hospital off and on for about a year and the doctors could not
figure out what was wrong with her. Eventually they settled on
encephalopathy, a fancy way of saying her brain was shutting down.
I took my youngest son to the hospital with me. He had just
turned 3. Although my mom was not herself, being near the grand kids
seemed to make her better. He sat on the bed with her and said while
pointing to the empty bed next to her, "that's grandpa's bed." I laughed
out. He had never really been around any grandpa's and I had never heard
say that word.
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
i believe
I believe in an afterlife. Death is a transformation. In this afterlife I believe that we are reunited with our loved ones. I believe we are also given an opportunity to understand each other, forgive and thank each other. I think in this afterlife we no longer carry our physical bodies and egos, therefore it is much easier to love and relate to one another. Our resources are never in danger of depleting. We no longer have reason to fight. I believe we do hold on to some personality traits and even likes and dislikes. I think in the afterlife we have time to come to a deeper understanding of the physical world, and we chose when we are ready to move forward. I do not think moving on is the right term, because you keep a place for earthly love in your heart. You never truly leave any loved ones here or there. You are not forced into forgiveness but are allowed a greater understanding of people who have wronged you, therefor forgiveness can happen naturally once you feel compassion for the other persons struggles.
I believe in moving forward, not moving on. People often use the term "moving on" when speaking of getting over something painful. When I think of what those words mean to me, I get a picture in my head of the runway or homeless man from the old cartoons with nothing but a red handkerchief full of measly possessions on stick leaving everything behind. In my life, I do not want to leave everything behind. I feel like moving forward after tragedy allows me to keep the future in mind, the past in my heart, and the present in the present. I do not have to give up anything I am not willing or able to give up. I do not want to leave any of my love or my memories behind. I will not leave the people I have physically lost behind. I think that it is possible to take the love that is still there and make it relevant in the here and now. I love the book we are their heaven, by Allison Debuis. I am not psychic and I am by nature a pretty skeptical person. Maybe certain things claimed by so called psychics could be explained away by body language and general statements. Still, I choose to believe. I miss my son, my mom and my dad so much that I regularly picture them sitting in the empty chairs in the room. I picture them learning or doing the hobbies they loved in life, only it is so much better. There are not physical limits. My son can hang with Micheal Jackson. My mom can run and jump and climb the most beautiful trees. My dad can hug his mom. I believe this because it makes me happy.
I believe this way because I chose to. It is comforting to me. I also think it is logical and there is some science to back up the idea of a soul. Specific beliefs on an afterlife are very diverse and are often heavily debated. People usually choose to relate to the beliefs or teachings that are the most comforting and believable to them. Many times we are influenced by our family and culture. I think it would be nice to identify with a group of like minded people. I understand why many enjoy organized religion, but for me, I have not found a specific religion that I identify with. From what I know, which is admittedly just a little, I can relate to different ideas of different religions.
I believe in moving forward, not moving on. People often use the term "moving on" when speaking of getting over something painful. When I think of what those words mean to me, I get a picture in my head of the runway or homeless man from the old cartoons with nothing but a red handkerchief full of measly possessions on stick leaving everything behind. In my life, I do not want to leave everything behind. I feel like moving forward after tragedy allows me to keep the future in mind, the past in my heart, and the present in the present. I do not have to give up anything I am not willing or able to give up. I do not want to leave any of my love or my memories behind. I will not leave the people I have physically lost behind. I think that it is possible to take the love that is still there and make it relevant in the here and now. I love the book we are their heaven, by Allison Debuis. I am not psychic and I am by nature a pretty skeptical person. Maybe certain things claimed by so called psychics could be explained away by body language and general statements. Still, I choose to believe. I miss my son, my mom and my dad so much that I regularly picture them sitting in the empty chairs in the room. I picture them learning or doing the hobbies they loved in life, only it is so much better. There are not physical limits. My son can hang with Micheal Jackson. My mom can run and jump and climb the most beautiful trees. My dad can hug his mom. I believe this because it makes me happy.
I believe this way because I chose to. It is comforting to me. I also think it is logical and there is some science to back up the idea of a soul. Specific beliefs on an afterlife are very diverse and are often heavily debated. People usually choose to relate to the beliefs or teachings that are the most comforting and believable to them. Many times we are influenced by our family and culture. I think it would be nice to identify with a group of like minded people. I understand why many enjoy organized religion, but for me, I have not found a specific religion that I identify with. From what I know, which is admittedly just a little, I can relate to different ideas of different religions.
Monday, February 3, 2014
I think I really like school. It is in a way fun for me. I have put it off for so long and I really love to learn. It is much different then when you chose to learn something just because. I feel challenged. I am also glad to get a break from the whole "homemaker" box. I stayed at home with my kids for about 5 or 6 years. I babysat and I helped take care of my sick mom and my brother too, but it is not the same as getting up with a specific purpose. Eventually, for me, staying at home became lonely, boring and I felt under appreciated. You don't really get thank yous that much for cleaning toilets and doing the dishes and laundry. When you make a home cooked dinner everyday, that also begins to feel less special. I was very thankful for the freedoms being at home allowed me to have. Time with my family being number one. I want to be here. I want to be able to provide them with more financial security of course, but I also want to do this for me. I don't want to waste my mind on daytime tv! So I like learning and I also feel a little interaction with grown ups is great. No poopy diapers!!!YAY. I love that my family are very supportive. They can tell it makes me happy and they try to do a little more around the house and for themselves now, which is great. I feel I am improving my thinking skills.
Fear
There are many many things I am afraid of but my biggest fear is losing the ones I love. I have lost so many people and sometimes I have anxiety about who is next. In 2006 I lost my father to lung cancer. He was 79 and had smoked sense he was 9. Even in the hospital, desperate for that nicotine fix, he would chew his ciggs. I was totally lost after he died. I never thought, although I had picture it a million times, I was not prepared for the way this loss would shake me to my very soul. During his last hospital stay my mother had a mild heart attack. The day before he died she had a double bypass surgery. My husbands best friend died about a year later. My mother ended up dying 2 1/2 years after my dad. Then my son a year and a half later he had an accident while playing and died. This loss was of course the hardest and I feel as though I am just emerging from the dark abyss of grief. After that my grandmother died, almost a year later, then about a month later my ex died. He died exactly one year after I buried my son. Four months later my husbands aunt died, my uncle died last mothers day and my other significant ex died about a week ago. I have been to so many funerals and you would think it might get a little easier, maybe in a way it does....but not much.
Sometimes my anxiety can be paralyzing. Sometimes I act kind of crazy. Before my son died I used to have panic attacks in the middle of the night and I would HAVE to check on all of the kids, making sure they were breathing, I made sure the windows were locked, I made sure there was nothing covering the furnace vents and nothing covering their faces. It was so hard knowing that I was acting irrational yet I could not stop myself from fearing the worst. After my oldest son died, my panic attacks stopped. I could for the most part sleep through the night, in fact all I wanted to do was sleep. I had and have a great support system of friends and fam. I love my other two kids so much that they literally were the ONLY reason I got out of bed each day. Although I have lost so many, I have many many more I love and live for. Things are better but people still keep dying. I ask myself why so many when I am so young, then I realize I am really not that young, death is a part of life and the longer I live the more people I will most likely lose. I don't mean for this thought to sound morbid it really is not. It is logical. I remember as a kid going to so many great aunt and uncles funerals. I didn't get it and I wasn't sad for them, I was sad for my grandparents.
I am really not that young, but I am not that old either. I was talking to my daughter last night. We were watching funny youtube videos and somehow we started talking about Shine. He had the funniest sense of humor and an amazing laugh. Eventually we talked a bit about the day he died and my Kayla started crying. I have played that day over and over in my head but only from my perspective. It was very sad to see it from her perspective... and incredibly scary. I say that I am not that old and it is just heartbreaking to realize the pain she and Isaiah have suffered at such a young age. She is only 9 and she shouldn't have to feel this way are have those fears. She asked me if I had ever lost anyone I was super close to at her age. I had never lost anyone from death. I am so glad we had a chance to talk about it. She never likes to feel those feelings but I do think it is helpful to explore and acknowledge the pain she feels. She and Shine were typical brother and sister in many ways..but extremely close. Once when they were arguing and just could not agree I told them how they were each others first friend and they should never forget it. Something changed after that. It was kind of weird because many times when you tell your kids things it does not seem to stick. This time it did. When they were scared at night they would crawl into each others beds and I would find them in the morning with there arms around one another. Shine walked Kayla to class everyday and waited for her after school. Before he died she was the preppy one. He was the mysterious one. He loved wolves and Michael Jackson. He had a sharp sarcastic humor. Shine, out of my three children, was the one I related to the most and he was the one I worried about the most. He was both sensitive and impulsive. Kayla has always been people pleaser. She is a stubborn perfectionist. Isaiah is my friendly fun loving baby. As he gets older I realize he was more like Shine then I had noticed before. I try to avoid comparisons, but sometimes it's hard.
Sometimes my anxiety can be paralyzing. Sometimes I act kind of crazy. Before my son died I used to have panic attacks in the middle of the night and I would HAVE to check on all of the kids, making sure they were breathing, I made sure the windows were locked, I made sure there was nothing covering the furnace vents and nothing covering their faces. It was so hard knowing that I was acting irrational yet I could not stop myself from fearing the worst. After my oldest son died, my panic attacks stopped. I could for the most part sleep through the night, in fact all I wanted to do was sleep. I had and have a great support system of friends and fam. I love my other two kids so much that they literally were the ONLY reason I got out of bed each day. Although I have lost so many, I have many many more I love and live for. Things are better but people still keep dying. I ask myself why so many when I am so young, then I realize I am really not that young, death is a part of life and the longer I live the more people I will most likely lose. I don't mean for this thought to sound morbid it really is not. It is logical. I remember as a kid going to so many great aunt and uncles funerals. I didn't get it and I wasn't sad for them, I was sad for my grandparents.
I am really not that young, but I am not that old either. I was talking to my daughter last night. We were watching funny youtube videos and somehow we started talking about Shine. He had the funniest sense of humor and an amazing laugh. Eventually we talked a bit about the day he died and my Kayla started crying. I have played that day over and over in my head but only from my perspective. It was very sad to see it from her perspective... and incredibly scary. I say that I am not that old and it is just heartbreaking to realize the pain she and Isaiah have suffered at such a young age. She is only 9 and she shouldn't have to feel this way are have those fears. She asked me if I had ever lost anyone I was super close to at her age. I had never lost anyone from death. I am so glad we had a chance to talk about it. She never likes to feel those feelings but I do think it is helpful to explore and acknowledge the pain she feels. She and Shine were typical brother and sister in many ways..but extremely close. Once when they were arguing and just could not agree I told them how they were each others first friend and they should never forget it. Something changed after that. It was kind of weird because many times when you tell your kids things it does not seem to stick. This time it did. When they were scared at night they would crawl into each others beds and I would find them in the morning with there arms around one another. Shine walked Kayla to class everyday and waited for her after school. Before he died she was the preppy one. He was the mysterious one. He loved wolves and Michael Jackson. He had a sharp sarcastic humor. Shine, out of my three children, was the one I related to the most and he was the one I worried about the most. He was both sensitive and impulsive. Kayla has always been people pleaser. She is a stubborn perfectionist. Isaiah is my friendly fun loving baby. As he gets older I realize he was more like Shine then I had noticed before. I try to avoid comparisons, but sometimes it's hard.
What if
What if I won the lottery
You could visit heaven
There were no speed limits
There was a magic weight loss pill
We changed color in the rain
We were snowed in for 2 months
I could fly
I was telekinetic
I was the fastest runner
Double bacon cheeseburgers were healthy
My husband loved to read
My kids became famous
All clothes were free
If I won the lottery I know I would wait a while to tell everyone. Even my husband. He is the big spender and I would want to make a game plan and set limits and goals before he blew through it all. I have always thought about how nice it would be to not have to worry about money, and I am sure I would be generous with my family and friends (luckily it is a small circle) I know things would change though. I would want to be generous without feeling that those people owe me something, but I bet that would be super hard. If one of my bff's is busy now and doesn't answer when I call I get annoyed. Would I feel entitled to have them on call? I hope not, but what if? What if they cant be happy for me or relate to me anymore because the assume I am not the same or they feel too much envy to be happy for me. Those are the scary things. The happy things are that I feel I have a few great charities I would like to help. I wouldn't want to move, because my sons last breaths were in my home. I would however love to add on. I love houses in general, especially old houses. Would I buy a house on each side of town and spend some time in each. Wasteful maybe, but I am not thinking huge mansions. I would definitely buy my bro one. He is autistic and unable to work, he really struggles. Then my sister is homeless, I would have to buy her one. I also have my bro and sis from my dad, and then Shane has 5 bro-sis. Lots and lots of houses.
What if my brother never lost his house. He lived in my mothers house after she passed. We paid the little mortgage he had each month and he really never had much left to live one. We didn't realize the house had a balloon mortgage and we (or really he) lost it. It was very sad because we only owned about $10000. I am getting off topic. If he had never lost it then he would still be on our good old Burton street. The winters were very cold, the flooring was rotted the roof caving in and there was very little insulation. He would have felt at home still though. Maybe eventually we would have been able to fix it up. If we did he still would have had to walk two miles to the nearest bus stop or I would still be driving him to the grocery store. I would still have a reason to say hi to our old neighbors. It would still be sad I bet. I think in the end his life would be harder because it was in such disarray. I bet my sister who is homeless and somewhat of a moocher would have moved in too.
You could visit heaven
There were no speed limits
There was a magic weight loss pill
We changed color in the rain
We were snowed in for 2 months
I could fly
I was telekinetic
I was the fastest runner
Double bacon cheeseburgers were healthy
My husband loved to read
My kids became famous
All clothes were free
If I won the lottery I know I would wait a while to tell everyone. Even my husband. He is the big spender and I would want to make a game plan and set limits and goals before he blew through it all. I have always thought about how nice it would be to not have to worry about money, and I am sure I would be generous with my family and friends (luckily it is a small circle) I know things would change though. I would want to be generous without feeling that those people owe me something, but I bet that would be super hard. If one of my bff's is busy now and doesn't answer when I call I get annoyed. Would I feel entitled to have them on call? I hope not, but what if? What if they cant be happy for me or relate to me anymore because the assume I am not the same or they feel too much envy to be happy for me. Those are the scary things. The happy things are that I feel I have a few great charities I would like to help. I wouldn't want to move, because my sons last breaths were in my home. I would however love to add on. I love houses in general, especially old houses. Would I buy a house on each side of town and spend some time in each. Wasteful maybe, but I am not thinking huge mansions. I would definitely buy my bro one. He is autistic and unable to work, he really struggles. Then my sister is homeless, I would have to buy her one. I also have my bro and sis from my dad, and then Shane has 5 bro-sis. Lots and lots of houses.
What if my brother never lost his house. He lived in my mothers house after she passed. We paid the little mortgage he had each month and he really never had much left to live one. We didn't realize the house had a balloon mortgage and we (or really he) lost it. It was very sad because we only owned about $10000. I am getting off topic. If he had never lost it then he would still be on our good old Burton street. The winters were very cold, the flooring was rotted the roof caving in and there was very little insulation. He would have felt at home still though. Maybe eventually we would have been able to fix it up. If we did he still would have had to walk two miles to the nearest bus stop or I would still be driving him to the grocery store. I would still have a reason to say hi to our old neighbors. It would still be sad I bet. I think in the end his life would be harder because it was in such disarray. I bet my sister who is homeless and somewhat of a moocher would have moved in too.
Friday, January 31, 2014
Honeymoon
I spent my honeymoon in Eureka springs. It was a couple of weeks after my husband and I got married. We stayed at the treehouse cottages. It was Beautiful!! We had a giant bed and we slept in till around noon each day. I know it is kinda weird to sleep so much on a honeymoon but Shane and I had already been together for 6 yrs by the time we got married. We had three kids so sleep was such a luxurious thing to us. We had no money to sight see, in fact we even brought our own food because we were no broke at the time. We ate an egg for breakfast, a grilled chz for lunch and din. the first night we had steak. We watched cable tv and really did nothing, but is was so fun and romantic and peaceful, we went hiking and of course took advantage of the hot tub.
Shane's World
So this weekend my hubby Shane was home for both Saturday and Sunday. We got to spend lots of quality time. Lately he has been working Saturdays. so this was a nice change. It felt like sat didnt even exist though. It went by so fast and we didnt really accomplish anything. We even had a break from the kiddos and some time alone. Then sunday we went to his moms for breakfast and my sisters in ava for lunch/birthday party. Later we went to his sisters for dinner. By the end of the day Shane was really getting to me. He was speeding on the way to ava, we got pulled over, but luckily shane only got a warning. My hubby is a little rough around the edges. He has a heart of gold... and a mouth like a sailor. My family tends to be a little more bible thumping old fashioned country people, at least my moms side is. Shanes family are loud potty mouths, but they are so much fun and I absolutely love them!! It is always a little stressful for me to be around Shane and my family. I shouldn't worry about it. They like him but I get embarrassed sometimes. It also stresses me being around his family sometimes because he lets it all hang out. Im talking farting contests, messing with the kids getting them wound up and often in trouble, and the language...Shane got his potty mouth from his mom. They are wonderful people and I truly love them to pieces, but they are the loud and VERY open. By the end of the day Shane was in his I'm 10 years old mood and I was just tired and ready for bed!! I do think men, Shane at least, has it easier in many ways. When he gets home I cook dinner and he chills. I help the kids w/ chores and homework and get there butts in bed while he relaxes. He works very hard, he is a fabricator and works 45-55 hours a week. I know he's tired when he gets home, but I think it would be pretty cool to have some set relaxation time. Alright...enough complaining!
Monday, January 27, 2014
ISFJ
After taking the Jung typology test for the second time...I feel my results are pretty accurate. The first time I took it I did not finish the assignment, I did not look at the detailed results. The results on the website, however, were not that relatable to me. Taking the test again, I ended up with slightly different results and I think they make more sense. The I standing for Introvert was the same both times I took the test. I know I am an introvert, seems obvious to me. Although it does not necessarily refer to being "shy" I am shy and I am always thinking. I like to get a feel for people before sharing. As far as writing goes, I may over think it, yet I feel it is easier than talking to others because I won't have the chance to analyse my audience too much. The S for sensing is one that changed during my second test. I am not sure how I answered the questions differently but I admit the second time I took it, I took it faster and did not think about the answers much. I do tend to rely on experience in my decision making process. I want to know the facts and I will search for them until I feel pretty secure in my conclusion. In writing I think this helps me to be informative and as accurate as possible, but it may also be harder for me to use my imagination. The Feeling part of the test I got both times and I do think of myself as empathetic. I like putting myself in other people's shoes so to speak. I like understanding where people are coming from and how they are motivated. I think this can be a very good thing as a writer, because most people want to feel they can relate to what they are reading in some way. The down side.. it can be very time consuming and detailed. Eventually I think it is overwhelming to constantly see other perspectives. The Judging part of the test, well the first time I took it I got P for perceiving and now I got J. I think it is funny how my thought process changes...but it really does. The weirdest thing about it is my first test was all slight preferences. This time I had a moderate tendency toward the judging one. For me I can relate to both types and my mood seemed to have a big effect on how I answered the questions. I hate feeling like I do not have choices, and I love last minute pressures, but I am also very comfortable with routines. I don't really mind them. I love surprises though. I have learned over the years that although complete procrastination is the tendency, it does not serve me well so I do try to stay on top of things to prevent getting overwhelmed and giving up. Overall, I think the test does a pretty good job at pinpointing the different types of people. I think that this info should be helpful.
Saturday, January 25, 2014
Okay well last night I talked to my best friend who lives in san diego for about two hours before I realized it was 10 and I had to put the kids to bed. I feel that if I can talk to Cristin for two hours about nothing than I should be able to write for ten minutes about nothing. We talked about our dogs, she has a cutie she calls francis, he is her other child. I have a pug named nosey, I guess he is my other child as well, but he is a pain in the rear. I have a porch kitty/ garage kitty now too. I do not plan on keeping her, although she is really sweet I am not a cat person and nosey tries to eat her every chance he gets. She doesnt have a name, she is homeless but I let her stay in our garage, w/ a cardboard box for a litter box, while it is super cold outside. I do feed her as well, but I really do not want to claim her as ours...I do not want to keep her. Our little pug nosey was a gift from my sister in law to my oldest son Shine. He died very unexpectedly at 9 years old. It has been two and a half years now. My middle child Kayla is now 9. they were born 2 years and a day apart. Shine was small for his age and they used to pretend they were twins because they looked alike and were almost the same size. My youngest son Isaiah is 7. It is so hard for me to comprehend that my baby will soon be 8. He is forever stuck at 4 to me.
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