Monday April 14, 2008
Two deaths, and the things I've learned.
Back in October, my maternal grandfather (my "Pop"), passed away expectedly. I say expectedly as for the past decade or so he had been battling heart disease, among other things, and the current two years, he had battled stage 2 lung cancer that spread into his brain and other regions. He was on hospice care for two years. He was only supposed to live about six months after his diagnosis. But my Pop being an old Navy man fought it out to the end.
It didn't matter that he grew more and more senile with visions of things that weren't there or talking to the nurses and calling them by the name of someone in his past. His health was rapidly declining.
Prior to him passing away, my grandmother went into him and said goodbye.
When he passed away, thoughts of everything he had ever taught me and memories we ever had flooded through me, and almost immediately I was distraught. When you tell someone "my Pop died," and they ask, "were you close?" you feel like snapping back at them, but I guess that's just how some people were.
My Pop took me on my first horseback ride when I was six. I rode a horse named "Idol," a white Arabian or Arabian cross, and while I was being lead on a lead rope in front of another rider on a horse, I thought I was top dog. My Pop taught me about pipe tobacco, Florida, oranges, the beach, and art. One thing he did leave with me was his talent for art, and for that, I am grateful.
We cremated him and buried his ashes in January of this year.
My maternal grandmother (my "Nan") had also been ill. 20 years of living and fighting through her Parkinson's disease, she slowly started becoming a shell rather than the Nan I knew.
In 2005, she was diagnosed with many other ailments from esophageal cancer and other diseases. She went from a normal person to an old woman overnight. She had lost most of her teeth due to age and her inability to be able to sit in a dentist chair while they worked on her. It didn't help that she hated the dentist. Her diet went from normal food to cottage cheese, puddings, and other soft foods she could swallow. There were times where she couldn't say anything at all until her medicine kicked in.
When we moved down to Georgia from New York in the early 90s, my brother (a year and a half older than I) and I in two separate grades had to write papers about struggling with something. Unbeknownst to us, the other children wrote about how their parents wouldn't let them stay out late, or how they couldn't go over to so and so's house. My brother and I wrote about our Nan, and how it was a good day when she could get dressed herself, or when she could pour Pop a cup of coffee or could iron or get up from her chair without her walker.
I learned that my Nan was an only child and that her father had walked out on her mother when her mother was two months pregnant. My Nan never met her father until she was married. Her father had seen her wedding announcement in the paper. He died shortly thereafter.
My Nan dressed up as a hobo one Halloween with her neighborhood friend, and they went door to door (as adults), invited themselves into their neighbor's homes, dusted things off, sat down on the couch, and they each shared a flask, taking swigs....of tea.
I learned how my Nan used to love shopping and how she would take my mother and her sister shopping with her friends, but they would never buy anything. While her friends went into the restaurants to eat, my mom, her sister, and my Nan would sit outside on the curb in front of the restaurant eating egg salad sandwiches. My mom asked why they couldn't go into the restaurant to eat to which my Nan honestly replied, "well we don't have enough money to do that, but do you like your egg salad sandwich? I made it special today just for you!"
One day when my mom was a child, she came home from school talking poorly about a girl in her class who wore ragged clothes, had old torn shoes, and was rather dirty. My Nan asked my mom, "did you ever think that those clothes were the best she had? That those shoes were all they could afford? and did you ever think they may not have a bath tub or running water?" It was then that my mom learned the meaning of respect and not to judge those based on appearances alone: a lesson that was passed onto us at an early age.
When my brother had a godmother whose daughter had Down's Syndrome, we just saw her as another kid. When we had friends in NY who were Puerto Rican, Chinese, or Jamaican, to us....they were just kids we played with. We didn't see them as another color.
My Nan never said a negative word about anybody. She may have disagreed with them, but she took them for what they were. She kept several friends that way.
The last few days of my Nan's life, my mom was by her side, though she didn't want to be. During that time, every one of her friends called or wrote or e-mailed to say their final goodbyes. Though my Nan, at that time, couldn't respond as the Parkinson's had taken their last hurrah and had captured her ability to speak or to open her eyes, she would wiggle her fingers or tap her foot or try to smile to show she understood.
Before she passed away, my mom bent down and whispered to her that it was okay to go, and that Pop was waiting for her. A tear rolled down her cheek, and my mother said, "I know that tear's for me, mom. I love you," and with that, my Nan left this world.
She was cremated, and her ashes were buried this past weekend beside her husband, with whom she was able to celebrate their 60th wedding anniversary before they both passed away.
I have to keep reminding myself that, in the state they were, it was better for them to leave this world. They are healthy now, and they are happy. They don't have to get upset by worrying what others think about them when they are unable to do the simplest of daily tasks and daily necessities for life.
I just have to remember what my Nan taught me in this life:
1) Never judge a person based on what they are on the outside. Respect them for who they are on the inside, and look past their exterior.
2) Be grateful for what you have and not jealous of what you have not. Appreciate the little things in life rather than always wanting more.
3) Don't speak ill of others. You never know what they are going through, or what has made them the way they are.
4) Don't just offer a tissue to a friend in need, but dry their tears and comfort them.
5) Don't just offer advice to others, but help them when they need assistance.
6) Cherish the memories that you have with someone. They are truly a gift. Remember them every day, and you will never forget that person.
7) Love. Love your family, love your friends, love your life. Don't get too wrapped up in the big things in life that you forget about the little things.
8) Remember when money is tight, money isn't everything in life.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Old Blog Post # 1
** I found these on an old [forgotten] blog I had, and so I'll post them here. **
Many of you know the story about the married man posing as single...though had a daughter, oh...and a girlfriend?
Here you go:
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
I am not an inanimate object to be used.
I was contacted by a man that seemed great. His profile title was “Searching for my Soulmate.” Okay, his headline title was cheesy, but whatever. (Your headline/title is what you use as the title of your personal’s ad to grab others’ attention). We talked, and we eventually decided to meet for dinner. He came to the house, and he picked me up. He brought flowers, which was a first for me, and he even met a housemate and her mother who was visiting. They said they had “good vibes” about him.
We went and had dinner at a quaint little Italian place, and we had good conversation. I could tell he was a little nervous. First date jitters I guess. We drove around looking for a Starbucks to have some coffee, but they were all packed so we ended up coming back to my house, and casually watching some t.v. Around 10pm, it was time for him to leave. We said our goodbyes, I gave him a hug, and that was that.
I hadn’t talked to him for a few weeks due to his work schedule, and we made plans to have coffee. We met for coffee, and we talked some more. He was still a little nervous, so I chalked it up to his personality. “I don’t think this is going to work” was what I was thinking. We ended our coffee, and we went our separate ways.
He left to go out of town for work.
Out of the blue about a week later, I receive a text on my phone, “I’m a horrible person. Please forgive me.”
I told him he had neither done nor said nothing to me so what was I forgiving him for?
I knew it was bad when he asked if I could chat with him so I logged onto one of my plethora of messengers.
Here is how the conversation transpired:
Him: I’m a horrible person. I’ve lied to you. I’m not who you think I am.
Me (my thoughts will be done in parentheses – I only know you like hiking): Oh, and who are you?
Him: I don’t know if I can tell you. You’re affiliated with the same group I am.
Me: Nah, I’m only using them for discount SCUBA.
Him: I’m a married man. With a child.
Me: Ok.
Him: It gets worse.
Me: (how could it?)
Him: Well she had an online emotional relationship, if that makes sense.
Me: Ok. (what else am I going to say?)
Him: I put a key logger on the PC.
Me: That wasn’t very nice of you.
Him: And I read in black and white that she hated me, I wasn’t a good lover, etc.
Me: Ok. Did you confront her on this?
Him: For the past three years our relationship has been rocky. She’s abusive sometimes.
Me: Ok.
Him: So I joined [club], and I met Pam.
Me: Ok. (I can see where this is going…….ass)
Him: We immediately clicked. We talked the entire way up and the entire way back from the trip. We even clicked on the trail like she slipped, and I caught her. That night, we almost kissed, but she said “no” because she had gotten out of a bad relationship. The next night, the same thing happened. We slept together.
Me: Ok. So in my case, you lied to me twice – 1) saying you were wholly single and 2) you’re in love with someone who is not your wife, doesn’t know you’re married, and you’re out looking for others to date.
Him: Well I wasn’t really going to date you. I was going to use you.
Me: Welp, that’s all I needed to hear. Bye.
Him: Please let me finish.
I logged out of chat, mad as Hell. He sent another e-mail to me, reiterating the “I was to be used” fact, and I just got madder. I could feel my face getting flush, and I really wanted to punch this person, causing permanent damage.
I ended it with he had no respect. I have more class and intelligence than to be “used” like some inanimate object. I’m not an idiot. I’m not a ditz, and I’m a strong woman who doesn’t just fall and swoon and cling to any man that shows her attention. I’m sorry, but I can’t forgive you as you show no remorse.
Many of you know the story about the married man posing as single...though had a daughter, oh...and a girlfriend?
Here you go:
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
I am not an inanimate object to be used.
I was contacted by a man that seemed great. His profile title was “Searching for my Soulmate.” Okay, his headline title was cheesy, but whatever. (Your headline/title is what you use as the title of your personal’s ad to grab others’ attention). We talked, and we eventually decided to meet for dinner. He came to the house, and he picked me up. He brought flowers, which was a first for me, and he even met a housemate and her mother who was visiting. They said they had “good vibes” about him.
We went and had dinner at a quaint little Italian place, and we had good conversation. I could tell he was a little nervous. First date jitters I guess. We drove around looking for a Starbucks to have some coffee, but they were all packed so we ended up coming back to my house, and casually watching some t.v. Around 10pm, it was time for him to leave. We said our goodbyes, I gave him a hug, and that was that.
I hadn’t talked to him for a few weeks due to his work schedule, and we made plans to have coffee. We met for coffee, and we talked some more. He was still a little nervous, so I chalked it up to his personality. “I don’t think this is going to work” was what I was thinking. We ended our coffee, and we went our separate ways.
He left to go out of town for work.
Out of the blue about a week later, I receive a text on my phone, “I’m a horrible person. Please forgive me.”
I told him he had neither done nor said nothing to me so what was I forgiving him for?
I knew it was bad when he asked if I could chat with him so I logged onto one of my plethora of messengers.
Here is how the conversation transpired:
Him: I’m a horrible person. I’ve lied to you. I’m not who you think I am.
Me (my thoughts will be done in parentheses – I only know you like hiking): Oh, and who are you?
Him: I don’t know if I can tell you. You’re affiliated with the same group I am.
Me: Nah, I’m only using them for discount SCUBA.
Him: I’m a married man. With a child.
Me: Ok.
Him: It gets worse.
Me: (how could it?)
Him: Well she had an online emotional relationship, if that makes sense.
Me: Ok. (what else am I going to say?)
Him: I put a key logger on the PC.
Me: That wasn’t very nice of you.
Him: And I read in black and white that she hated me, I wasn’t a good lover, etc.
Me: Ok. Did you confront her on this?
Him: For the past three years our relationship has been rocky. She’s abusive sometimes.
Me: Ok.
Him: So I joined [club], and I met Pam.
Me: Ok. (I can see where this is going…….ass)
Him: We immediately clicked. We talked the entire way up and the entire way back from the trip. We even clicked on the trail like she slipped, and I caught her. That night, we almost kissed, but she said “no” because she had gotten out of a bad relationship. The next night, the same thing happened. We slept together.
Me: Ok. So in my case, you lied to me twice – 1) saying you were wholly single and 2) you’re in love with someone who is not your wife, doesn’t know you’re married, and you’re out looking for others to date.
Him: Well I wasn’t really going to date you. I was going to use you.
Me: Welp, that’s all I needed to hear. Bye.
Him: Please let me finish.
I logged out of chat, mad as Hell. He sent another e-mail to me, reiterating the “I was to be used” fact, and I just got madder. I could feel my face getting flush, and I really wanted to punch this person, causing permanent damage.
I ended it with he had no respect. I have more class and intelligence than to be “used” like some inanimate object. I’m not an idiot. I’m not a ditz, and I’m a strong woman who doesn’t just fall and swoon and cling to any man that shows her attention. I’m sorry, but I can’t forgive you as you show no remorse.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
"Ruth"
** This is some pretty powerful food for thought and is a 100% true story posted by an online acquaintance of mine from Nevada:**
Every year Mike and I put together 100 gift bags for the homeless that consist of socks, hats, gloves and other goodies and pass them out the weekend after thanksgiving. This is a tradition my mom and I started years ago before I married. Then after Mike and I started doing K9 Therapy visits, we added the residents of the nursing home on our gift bag list, just with different goodies.
This year has caught us off guard. We have been so busy and overwhelmed with so much going on, that I haven’t had much time to prepare for the holidays. I am so far behind.
Some of you may remember a post I made quite a while back about a homeless lady I met while trapping feral cats downtown. Her name was Ruth, and when she had seen my friend and I getting the traps out and baiting them, she was pretty upset with us, thinking we were going to hurt the cats. After explaining to her what we were doing, and enlisted her help, she had calmed down, and at that moment, her life had changed, for the better.
That could have been the end of any contact with Ruth, but because I just had to come on here and share that story, many people on this board suggested I do something for her, a gift bag, perhaps, as a thank you. As some of you may remember, I took your suggestions one step further. My friend happened to have a casita in the back of her property, and we moved Ruth in there, for free room and board, and in return, she would help care for the ferals, on my friends property.
I have learned so much about Ruth, a wonderful beautiful lady, with a heart of gold, but as human as she is, she had made mistakes, which in turn, she had lost her husband, her daughter, and her home, she had become homeless, until that night we met.
Ruth moved into hospice 3 weeks ago. As I was visiting with her last night, just sitting, holding hands, with barely a whisper, she had told me she had a gift waiting for me at her place, but I needed to pick it up immediately, that it was something that needed attending to .
I didn’t want to leave her side, she had a way about her, that made you feel so comfortable, that everything was going to be okay.
After Mike and I left we headed straight over to her place, and I couldn’t believe my eyes. There in this small little room, a place she made home, were 100 gift bags all packed and ready to be given to the homeless. The only difference was the card she put in each bag, with a note for the recipient, explaining who she was, where she came from, she was once homeless too, and to not give up, everyone has an angel.
We passed the bags out last night, we were not even half way through, when my cell phone rang, she had passed away.
Her last words to me last night, “in the spirit of Christmas, be generous with your time, love your family, forgive, don’t give up hope”.
With that said, thank you to all who may have had a part in bringing Ruth into my life, and I echo her words...
In the spirit of Christmas, be generous with your time, love your family, forgive, and don't give up hope".
Happy Holidays to all!
Every year Mike and I put together 100 gift bags for the homeless that consist of socks, hats, gloves and other goodies and pass them out the weekend after thanksgiving. This is a tradition my mom and I started years ago before I married. Then after Mike and I started doing K9 Therapy visits, we added the residents of the nursing home on our gift bag list, just with different goodies.
This year has caught us off guard. We have been so busy and overwhelmed with so much going on, that I haven’t had much time to prepare for the holidays. I am so far behind.
Some of you may remember a post I made quite a while back about a homeless lady I met while trapping feral cats downtown. Her name was Ruth, and when she had seen my friend and I getting the traps out and baiting them, she was pretty upset with us, thinking we were going to hurt the cats. After explaining to her what we were doing, and enlisted her help, she had calmed down, and at that moment, her life had changed, for the better.
That could have been the end of any contact with Ruth, but because I just had to come on here and share that story, many people on this board suggested I do something for her, a gift bag, perhaps, as a thank you. As some of you may remember, I took your suggestions one step further. My friend happened to have a casita in the back of her property, and we moved Ruth in there, for free room and board, and in return, she would help care for the ferals, on my friends property.
I have learned so much about Ruth, a wonderful beautiful lady, with a heart of gold, but as human as she is, she had made mistakes, which in turn, she had lost her husband, her daughter, and her home, she had become homeless, until that night we met.
Ruth moved into hospice 3 weeks ago. As I was visiting with her last night, just sitting, holding hands, with barely a whisper, she had told me she had a gift waiting for me at her place, but I needed to pick it up immediately, that it was something that needed attending to .
I didn’t want to leave her side, she had a way about her, that made you feel so comfortable, that everything was going to be okay.
After Mike and I left we headed straight over to her place, and I couldn’t believe my eyes. There in this small little room, a place she made home, were 100 gift bags all packed and ready to be given to the homeless. The only difference was the card she put in each bag, with a note for the recipient, explaining who she was, where she came from, she was once homeless too, and to not give up, everyone has an angel.
We passed the bags out last night, we were not even half way through, when my cell phone rang, she had passed away.
Her last words to me last night, “in the spirit of Christmas, be generous with your time, love your family, forgive, don’t give up hope”.
With that said, thank you to all who may have had a part in bringing Ruth into my life, and I echo her words...
In the spirit of Christmas, be generous with your time, love your family, forgive, and don't give up hope".
Happy Holidays to all!
Monday, December 14, 2009
Boondock Saints 2: All Saint's Day
This Saturday, Andrew and I opted for the A.M. Movie Special ($6 pp instead of $10.50 pp) to see Boondock Saints II: All Saint's Day.
What can I say? Let's break it down...
1st: our movie-going experience was plagued by just-turned-20-hormonal-crazed boys saying "MILF!" proceeded by Butthead huh-huh-huh-huh everytime the main female character was on the screen.
2nd: The brothers....as funny as ever....addition of "their Mexican" - even better. "Whoop Ass Fajitas!"
3rd: We learn the background story on Il Duce (the brothers' father) and what caused him to be a killing machine (also where he got his leather vest from, why he was in prison, etc.)
4th: Judd Nelson plays a paranoid mob boss (new Yakavetta family head.)
5th: There is definitely more humor in this movie than before, but some of the old jokes are brought forward as well - think...."rope."
6th: The detectives all seem a little more dumb/juvenile than the first one.
7th: There's an addition of a new FBI agent that takes over for Smecker's replacement. It's not stated WHY he took over, and he doesn't play a large part at all in the movie.
8th: It's been left open for a third installment in the Boondock Saints legacy.
All in all, if you liked Boondock Saints, you'll definitely have no qualms with the sequel.
What can I say? Let's break it down...
1st: our movie-going experience was plagued by just-turned-20-hormonal-crazed boys saying "MILF!" proceeded by Butthead huh-huh-huh-huh everytime the main female character was on the screen.
2nd: The brothers....as funny as ever....addition of "their Mexican" - even better. "Whoop Ass Fajitas!"
3rd: We learn the background story on Il Duce (the brothers' father) and what caused him to be a killing machine (also where he got his leather vest from, why he was in prison, etc.)
4th: Judd Nelson plays a paranoid mob boss (new Yakavetta family head.)
5th: There is definitely more humor in this movie than before, but some of the old jokes are brought forward as well - think...."rope."
6th: The detectives all seem a little more dumb/juvenile than the first one.
7th: There's an addition of a new FBI agent that takes over for Smecker's replacement. It's not stated WHY he took over, and he doesn't play a large part at all in the movie.
8th: It's been left open for a third installment in the Boondock Saints legacy.
All in all, if you liked Boondock Saints, you'll definitely have no qualms with the sequel.
Monday, December 7, 2009
Making Memories.
Yesterday, Andrew and I went up to his parents' house to visit. While we were up there, we decided to take a walk so Andrew could show me his parents' property line all the way up to a pulpwood field. On our way up, we passed a tiny cedar tree that I said would make a perfect Christmas tree for us.
On our way back, Andrew took our his pocketknife and sawed the small sapling down. I delightfully carried it down as if it was my staff leading a parade.
When his dad came out and saw it, he said, "that ain't no Christmas tree!" We began [another] hunt. I told Andrew the mini tree would be for my office.
We found another tree (about 4 feet tall), and we cut that down and put it in the back of my car.
We stopped by a store on the way home, bought blue Christmas lights and some blue and silver ornaments.
Andrew ended up gashing his knuckle fixing the tree, and we had no stand for it. We improvised. Using a 3-gallon bucket, we placed the tree in it, surrounded it with rock and then kitty litter (it's all we had at 8pm!) Ta da! Our tree. We stabbed ourselves with the sharp needles on the cedar hanging lights, and we made a white paper chain out of white wrapping paper to use as a garland.
Voila! Our "EMT tree" was complete! Ah....memories. It may not look like much to some, but to us - it's awesome!
On our way back, Andrew took our his pocketknife and sawed the small sapling down. I delightfully carried it down as if it was my staff leading a parade.
When his dad came out and saw it, he said, "that ain't no Christmas tree!" We began [another] hunt. I told Andrew the mini tree would be for my office.
We found another tree (about 4 feet tall), and we cut that down and put it in the back of my car.
We stopped by a store on the way home, bought blue Christmas lights and some blue and silver ornaments.
Andrew ended up gashing his knuckle fixing the tree, and we had no stand for it. We improvised. Using a 3-gallon bucket, we placed the tree in it, surrounded it with rock and then kitty litter (it's all we had at 8pm!) Ta da! Our tree. We stabbed ourselves with the sharp needles on the cedar hanging lights, and we made a white paper chain out of white wrapping paper to use as a garland.
Voila! Our "EMT tree" was complete! Ah....memories. It may not look like much to some, but to us - it's awesome!
Friday, December 4, 2009
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