I was sitting in my chair in the living room. Not being in coherent reality at 4pm after being up for over 24 hours, what was happening did not really register. I sat there for a bit and tried to process what I had been told. "Grama was taken to the hospital and was not doing well". What do they mean, not doing well? Do I need to come? Is this going to be the last time I have a chance to see her? Not knowing or able to get the answers, my first thought was get in the car and drive.
Now some may think that flying would have been the answer. Well getting from where I am to where I needed to be would have taken me over 24 hours via flights. Kansas City to Chicago to Toronto to Regina. Lay overs in all of the cities and then renting a car when I got there. I laid down and tried to sleep. Ya right. Got about two hours and was up and on the road at 1am.
Driving long distances by myself has never been an issue for me. This was just another long trip. Bad thing was, I was going to see the one person in my life that had been there since day one and did not want to miss seeing her. The drive took just shy of 18 hours. Now that is not how long it should have taken. I was tired and in a panic to get there. I saw a truck, it turned and I followed. Dam I can be so blonde sometimes. He turned, I turned, he turned, I didn't. I drove for over an hour without seeing a single car.
Most people that have farms, also work in town. Subsidising their income. Easier to eat that way. SO NO ONE ON ANY FARM EITHER. Called my husband crying. Tired, worn out and frustrated with everything, I called, the one person that was 1000 miles away. He says very calmly, "drive for another 5 minutes. If you don't see anything you recognize, pull over and have a sleep. Everything will look different in the morning". As usual he was right. I was less than a mile from the main road. I was at her bedside in less than 30 minutes.
I saw her. She saw me. We both started to cry. She said the only reason she was still awake was she knew I was coming. We hugged and kissed each other and I held her close to me. I laid my head on her shoulder and told her I loved her. She drifted off to sleep. I kissed her good night and left for the hotel.
Over the next few days, she began to perk up. Now most of you would think that was a good thing. I have been a nurse long enough to know that sometimes it is the rally before the end. It worried me. We all took turns going to the hospital and sitting with her. One of the days that I was there for lunch, I said to her, come on, lets get up and sit in the chair to eat. I'm tired and sick was what I heard. Being the nurse that I am, my response was "if you stay in that bed your going to get sick and die". Her response was "I'm 98, how long do you think I'm going to live"? She always had a smart ass remark to throw back at people. She got out of bed with my help and sat up making faces at me while eating lunch. That was a great afternoon. She thumbed her nose at me and stuck her tongue out. I have pictures to prove it. We had a good day that day. There were a few others like that before I had to leave for home.
Grama got to see my cousin Roddy in his Olympic suit and running gear with the torch. He did part of the Olympic torch run in 2010 prior to the torch being lit. We have pictures of them together, with her holding his hand on the torch. It was wonderful that she got to see that and be part of his historic part in the Olympics. That was the second time our family had been part of the Olympic torch run. My nephew Jason also did the run in 1984.
Our family has been very blessed over the years, and I am proud to say that Grama was a part of it all. She passed away quietly with her daughters by her side. She is and always will be one of the women that shaped my life. We were lucky to have a grandmother that was such a spitfire and had so much energy, right up till a few months before her passing. She will remain in our hearts and souls forever.
When I returned home, there was a gift waiting for me from two very special people. A wind chime. Beautiful, wood, copper and sounds like none I had heard. Sweet chimes. The card was not mushy or sad. It just said that whenever the chime rang, it was grama saying hello. That was by far the nicest sentiment anyone could have written. It hangs by my back door where I see it every day. Since that time, one of my granddaughters lost her other grandmother. I told her about the chime, and every time it rings out, we both smile and say "Grama saying hi, its going to be a good day".
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Curfew
Been on a date? Ever had a curfew? Know what humiliation is? Now come on, how many of you would have rather cut off your hands than been late getting home?
The idea of curfew to most teenagers is foreign. Why do we have to be home at a certain time? No one I know has a curfew. Bet you did not have a curfew when you were young. How many of these did you hear from your kids when they were growing up? How many times did you use one or all of them when you were growing up? How many of you had dad's who set curfew and meant it?
In our house, curfew was 30 minutes after whatever you were going to. If you went to a dance or movie and it ended at 11:00 then you had to be home and in the house by 11:30. Now when I say in the house by 11:30, that did not mean around 11:30 or close to 11:30, it meant 11:30 and not one second later. Your worst fear was to show up seconds after the clock had changed. It was as bad as if you were an hour late. In our house late was late.
I was brought up to respect others. Being late showed disrespect and it was not tolerated. Now don't get me wrong, I did not come from a house where you feared for your life, just your freedom (being grounded when a teenager was worst thing you could have done to you). We were told from day one that time is valuable. Time being "valuable", I understand now, meant "Don't make me lose sleep because you can't get your sorry ass home on time or your going to pay for it". The punishment for being late in our house was grounding. Not for a day or two, but for a minimum of a week. This meant extra chores also. Sometimes, depending on how late I was, could mean up to a month of sitting at home when ALL my friends were out doing things. Funny, you don't ever believe that anyone else gets grounded or punished for the same things you did.
Now there was one thing that my dad did, that I bet not many of you can claim yours did.
Sitting out in the car with your boyfriend/date did not count as being home on time. Like I said earlier curfew meant "IN THE HOUSE", not sitting in a car in front of the house. The porch light was my dad's weapon of choice. Most father's would have just opened the door and called you in, NOT MINE!!! He would stand in the window of the front door and flick the porch light on and off over and over until you were so humiliated that you gave up and came in. The humiliation was due to the fact that all the neighbours would come out on their front porches to see what was going on. I would try and slink into the house without being seen, but was never successful. All that was said as you slinked in was "I told you to be home at _____.
Now I remember one incident that happened one night, that still makes me cringe and wonder. It was winter. My boyfriend had picked me up in his VW bug and we had gone to get his friends. We had a good time driving around town just cruising. For some ungodly reason he decided to take a run up to the golf course. No one was there and the parking lot being empty, it seemed like a good place to burn donuts in the snow. Well at the time it seemed like a good idea. Fun and all. Then came the clunk, bang, bang and the car started to rock. We had hit a road tye that they use to stop cars from driving up on the grass. OOPS now what do we do. Everyone piled out and started to rock the bug to no avail. Jack it up? Lift it? None of these were options.
Time was ticking. I was getting nervous. Curfew was now. Since there was no chance that anyone was going to come anytime soon, and we had no cell phones back then, I began to walk down the road to a friend of my parents. She answered the door shaking her head. "Can I use your phone?", I said. I called my dad and told him what happened. I waited for the lecture. None came. He told me to stay there. He showed up to pick me up and we drove to the golf course parking lot. He got out. Not sure what he told them, but very shortly after he got back in the car and we left. I never asked (him or my boyfriend) what he said, and neither of them offered. He was happy that I was safe and had the where with all to call for help but as dad said curfew was curfew.
I was grounded for a month.
Now some of you may think my parents were strict. I guess in a way they were. What dad said, was law. They brought us up to respect others. They brought us up to respect them. They brought us up to respect ourselves. They brought us up to respect time. I giggle every time I see the porch light going on now, remembering a time when things were simple and your worst fear was making CURFEW.
The idea of curfew to most teenagers is foreign. Why do we have to be home at a certain time? No one I know has a curfew. Bet you did not have a curfew when you were young. How many of these did you hear from your kids when they were growing up? How many times did you use one or all of them when you were growing up? How many of you had dad's who set curfew and meant it?
In our house, curfew was 30 minutes after whatever you were going to. If you went to a dance or movie and it ended at 11:00 then you had to be home and in the house by 11:30. Now when I say in the house by 11:30, that did not mean around 11:30 or close to 11:30, it meant 11:30 and not one second later. Your worst fear was to show up seconds after the clock had changed. It was as bad as if you were an hour late. In our house late was late.
I was brought up to respect others. Being late showed disrespect and it was not tolerated. Now don't get me wrong, I did not come from a house where you feared for your life, just your freedom (being grounded when a teenager was worst thing you could have done to you). We were told from day one that time is valuable. Time being "valuable", I understand now, meant "Don't make me lose sleep because you can't get your sorry ass home on time or your going to pay for it". The punishment for being late in our house was grounding. Not for a day or two, but for a minimum of a week. This meant extra chores also. Sometimes, depending on how late I was, could mean up to a month of sitting at home when ALL my friends were out doing things. Funny, you don't ever believe that anyone else gets grounded or punished for the same things you did.
Now there was one thing that my dad did, that I bet not many of you can claim yours did.
Sitting out in the car with your boyfriend/date did not count as being home on time. Like I said earlier curfew meant "IN THE HOUSE", not sitting in a car in front of the house. The porch light was my dad's weapon of choice. Most father's would have just opened the door and called you in, NOT MINE!!! He would stand in the window of the front door and flick the porch light on and off over and over until you were so humiliated that you gave up and came in. The humiliation was due to the fact that all the neighbours would come out on their front porches to see what was going on. I would try and slink into the house without being seen, but was never successful. All that was said as you slinked in was "I told you to be home at _____.
Now I remember one incident that happened one night, that still makes me cringe and wonder. It was winter. My boyfriend had picked me up in his VW bug and we had gone to get his friends. We had a good time driving around town just cruising. For some ungodly reason he decided to take a run up to the golf course. No one was there and the parking lot being empty, it seemed like a good place to burn donuts in the snow. Well at the time it seemed like a good idea. Fun and all. Then came the clunk, bang, bang and the car started to rock. We had hit a road tye that they use to stop cars from driving up on the grass. OOPS now what do we do. Everyone piled out and started to rock the bug to no avail. Jack it up? Lift it? None of these were options.
Time was ticking. I was getting nervous. Curfew was now. Since there was no chance that anyone was going to come anytime soon, and we had no cell phones back then, I began to walk down the road to a friend of my parents. She answered the door shaking her head. "Can I use your phone?", I said. I called my dad and told him what happened. I waited for the lecture. None came. He told me to stay there. He showed up to pick me up and we drove to the golf course parking lot. He got out. Not sure what he told them, but very shortly after he got back in the car and we left. I never asked (him or my boyfriend) what he said, and neither of them offered. He was happy that I was safe and had the where with all to call for help but as dad said curfew was curfew.
I was grounded for a month.
Now some of you may think my parents were strict. I guess in a way they were. What dad said, was law. They brought us up to respect others. They brought us up to respect them. They brought us up to respect ourselves. They brought us up to respect time. I giggle every time I see the porch light going on now, remembering a time when things were simple and your worst fear was making CURFEW.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Sisters and Brother
I have two sisters and a brother. Now being the oldest is not always the best thing. It comes with some problems. One being you are suppose to be an example for the ones that follow. Not sure how good an idea it was having me first. If it had been up to me, I think Deb or Char would have been a better choice.
Deb is next in the age line. We are 13 months apart. What Mom and Dad did that year, they have paid for ever since. (see what happens when there are too many cold holidays the first part of the year) She was the one that I got to sleep with. The house we lived in had two bedrooms. One big one for us girls and a smaller one that Mom and Dad slept in. When we openned up the attic, we all had our own rooms. Now our room housed a double and a twin bed. Deb and I in the double and Char in the twin. Deb was one of those sleepers that moved a lot. She slept everywhere, but on her side. Foot in the mouth, finger up the nose, knee in the belly, all things I enjoyed while sleeping with my little sister.
We were not close then, as I was the big sister (what girl wants her little sister around) and had to take her everywhere. YUCK. She trailed after us all the time and made it hard on me and my friends. You could lose someone really easily just taking them in the field. We played hide and seek in the Bracken at the top of the hill. (Bracken is really tall free standing ferns. And I mean tall some growing up to 3-4 feet high). Good hiding places, specially when you are only 3 or 4 feet tall. She always found us though.
Funny how life changes. Now Deb and I have become best friends. We talk daily and have not said a mean or bad thing about or to each other in a very long time. She lives close to 2000 miles away and I get sad when I think that I can't see her everyday.
Char was the third child of what was to become four some years later. Char was the youngest and was what we called "special". Special, in she was the youngest and did not get blamed for anything. She used to get away with murder. Being older I would get blamed because Char looked innocent still. Not sure how someone so small got away with so much. She was really the "devil" in a cute dress. She was also the worlds biggest tattle tale. Or so I believed then. We would threaten to beat her up next time Mom and Dad went out, if she told on us for doing things. Did not work. Mom and Dad would ask, and Char would spill just like a tipped glass of milk. Today she is one of my best friends and I could not live without her. She also lives 2000 miles from me and I wish we had time to spend everyday together.
We did over the years have a lot of fun together. Sisters in all, no matter how much you don't want them around, you do have a good time together.
THEN CAME THE "BROTHER"
Now don't get me wrong, I love my brother Shawn more than anything, but 16 years of just girls then "HE" arrives!!!!
I still remember the day the call came. My dad had told mom that if she had another girl, to call in the morning if she was born through the night. Well the call came at around 7AM. So you know what everyone thought. Funny, I had never heard my dad giggle and squeal before. We had a BROTHER and mom had roses before noon. We had a baby in our house. What are we going to do with a BOY. It had always been just us 3 girls.
From day one, he was fun to have around. He was cute, and liked being held. He giggled and cooed like all babies. The diaper changes were a little trying, as every time you changed him he peed on you. Thought it was funny too. Giggled everytime. Then came the trucks, and boy things. Not so cute now. He got into stuff that was ours. Thank god for stairs. Deb and my bedrooms were upstairs or he would have been into everything. (He was too small to go up stairs). New learning curve. Put things away or the kid would get it. No dolls to dress or comb their hair. This was not the cute little thing mom brought home. Not sure when that happened.
Being the last kid in a house, and a boy, HE got a few more privileges than us GIRLS. Of course I had moved out on my own, got married and had kids of my own, but heard all about. For some reason, not known to us, boys don't have the same rules as girls. (Remember this was in the 70's, so rules were different then or so we figured) He got to stay out when we didn't, he drove the car when we didn't, he did all sorts of things that we were not allowed to. We watched him grow up and have to deal with his sisters critiquing all his girl friends, his cars, his friends and his life. Lucky guy to have such loving and caring sisters.
I can remember one girl friend he brought to the house one hot summer's day. We were all home and having fun. Here comes this girl with her red hair all done, makeup perfect and a dress on. Sorry Linda, I had to tell this one. She was all shy and sat at the picnic table not saying much. WELL in our house, the one thing that all of us love to do was have water fights. Now, I am not talking plastic water guns, or cups of water. I am talking hoses, buckets, cups, whatever you could find that holds water and lots of it. This day was no different. Over the balcony comes the first bucket of water, right down my brother Shawn's back. Mad, oh my god was he mad. The war was on.
Out came the buckets, everyone running for the hoses. Basement door flies open for access to the laundry room taps. No place was safe. No place to hide. In the house was not even out of bounds. Within a few minutes, everyone was soaked to the bone. Including, the now crying, Linda. We felt a little sorry for her. She did not ask for this. She did however, learn not to come to our house all dressed up in the middle of summer. The next one she was part of, and had a great time.
All of his girlfriends had to endure the gauntlet of sisters. We could drive off a potential girl friend in a matter of seconds, with questions and comments. Usually very snide comments, about hair, clothes or scent. Sisters can be soooo mean. We were however out for his best interests and payback for stepping into our perfect female world (pre brother) was hell. He survived. Not sure how. Not sure why. Guess it is the stock he comes from. All of us are pretty hearty people with strong wills and minds to match.
He is now married to a great lady that loves water fights as much as we do. He also lives 2000 miles from me. I don't get to talk to him very often. I love him dearly and think of him everyday.
I have great memories of days gone by with my family. I am looking forward to the days ahead. Our family is a close one. We try to keep in touch. We don't see each other as often as we would like. My love for my sisters and brother grows with each passing day. They are in my heart forever.
Deb is next in the age line. We are 13 months apart. What Mom and Dad did that year, they have paid for ever since. (see what happens when there are too many cold holidays the first part of the year) She was the one that I got to sleep with. The house we lived in had two bedrooms. One big one for us girls and a smaller one that Mom and Dad slept in. When we openned up the attic, we all had our own rooms. Now our room housed a double and a twin bed. Deb and I in the double and Char in the twin. Deb was one of those sleepers that moved a lot. She slept everywhere, but on her side. Foot in the mouth, finger up the nose, knee in the belly, all things I enjoyed while sleeping with my little sister.
We were not close then, as I was the big sister (what girl wants her little sister around) and had to take her everywhere. YUCK. She trailed after us all the time and made it hard on me and my friends. You could lose someone really easily just taking them in the field. We played hide and seek in the Bracken at the top of the hill. (Bracken is really tall free standing ferns. And I mean tall some growing up to 3-4 feet high). Good hiding places, specially when you are only 3 or 4 feet tall. She always found us though.
Funny how life changes. Now Deb and I have become best friends. We talk daily and have not said a mean or bad thing about or to each other in a very long time. She lives close to 2000 miles away and I get sad when I think that I can't see her everyday.
Char was the third child of what was to become four some years later. Char was the youngest and was what we called "special". Special, in she was the youngest and did not get blamed for anything. She used to get away with murder. Being older I would get blamed because Char looked innocent still. Not sure how someone so small got away with so much. She was really the "devil" in a cute dress. She was also the worlds biggest tattle tale. Or so I believed then. We would threaten to beat her up next time Mom and Dad went out, if she told on us for doing things. Did not work. Mom and Dad would ask, and Char would spill just like a tipped glass of milk. Today she is one of my best friends and I could not live without her. She also lives 2000 miles from me and I wish we had time to spend everyday together.
We did over the years have a lot of fun together. Sisters in all, no matter how much you don't want them around, you do have a good time together.
THEN CAME THE "BROTHER"
Now don't get me wrong, I love my brother Shawn more than anything, but 16 years of just girls then "HE" arrives!!!!
I still remember the day the call came. My dad had told mom that if she had another girl, to call in the morning if she was born through the night. Well the call came at around 7AM. So you know what everyone thought. Funny, I had never heard my dad giggle and squeal before. We had a BROTHER and mom had roses before noon. We had a baby in our house. What are we going to do with a BOY. It had always been just us 3 girls.
From day one, he was fun to have around. He was cute, and liked being held. He giggled and cooed like all babies. The diaper changes were a little trying, as every time you changed him he peed on you. Thought it was funny too. Giggled everytime. Then came the trucks, and boy things. Not so cute now. He got into stuff that was ours. Thank god for stairs. Deb and my bedrooms were upstairs or he would have been into everything. (He was too small to go up stairs). New learning curve. Put things away or the kid would get it. No dolls to dress or comb their hair. This was not the cute little thing mom brought home. Not sure when that happened.
Being the last kid in a house, and a boy, HE got a few more privileges than us GIRLS. Of course I had moved out on my own, got married and had kids of my own, but heard all about. For some reason, not known to us, boys don't have the same rules as girls. (Remember this was in the 70's, so rules were different then or so we figured) He got to stay out when we didn't, he drove the car when we didn't, he did all sorts of things that we were not allowed to. We watched him grow up and have to deal with his sisters critiquing all his girl friends, his cars, his friends and his life. Lucky guy to have such loving and caring sisters.
I can remember one girl friend he brought to the house one hot summer's day. We were all home and having fun. Here comes this girl with her red hair all done, makeup perfect and a dress on. Sorry Linda, I had to tell this one. She was all shy and sat at the picnic table not saying much. WELL in our house, the one thing that all of us love to do was have water fights. Now, I am not talking plastic water guns, or cups of water. I am talking hoses, buckets, cups, whatever you could find that holds water and lots of it. This day was no different. Over the balcony comes the first bucket of water, right down my brother Shawn's back. Mad, oh my god was he mad. The war was on.
Out came the buckets, everyone running for the hoses. Basement door flies open for access to the laundry room taps. No place was safe. No place to hide. In the house was not even out of bounds. Within a few minutes, everyone was soaked to the bone. Including, the now crying, Linda. We felt a little sorry for her. She did not ask for this. She did however, learn not to come to our house all dressed up in the middle of summer. The next one she was part of, and had a great time.
All of his girlfriends had to endure the gauntlet of sisters. We could drive off a potential girl friend in a matter of seconds, with questions and comments. Usually very snide comments, about hair, clothes or scent. Sisters can be soooo mean. We were however out for his best interests and payback for stepping into our perfect female world (pre brother) was hell. He survived. Not sure how. Not sure why. Guess it is the stock he comes from. All of us are pretty hearty people with strong wills and minds to match.
He is now married to a great lady that loves water fights as much as we do. He also lives 2000 miles from me. I don't get to talk to him very often. I love him dearly and think of him everyday.
I have great memories of days gone by with my family. I am looking forward to the days ahead. Our family is a close one. We try to keep in touch. We don't see each other as often as we would like. My love for my sisters and brother grows with each passing day. They are in my heart forever.
Simple things and family
Children. The little people that drive big people crazy. They yell and scream for no reason. They can find fun playing with the most inappropriate and useless items. If you hide it, they will find it. If told not to, they will do it. If unavailable they will produce it. These little people can make and find fun where others see nothing. Oh to be that age again. Carefree and unencumbered by life's trials and tribulations.
I remember a house that we lived in at 4 mile. It was wonderful. We had a huge tree for climbing, and swinging on. There was a big field out back, that was great for sledding in the winter, and for hiding in the summer. No one locked their doors. You were welcome at any ones house anytime. Everyone knew everyone and we all rode the bus together during the school year. It was like a small community all in itself.
There was wildlife everywhere. Bambi and friends walked through the yard all throughout the year. Dad really hated them in the summer when the garden was in. No matter what we put up to curb the deer, they just kept coming and eating all the good veggies, and trampling everything else. He actually shot a deer one year, and Char told me this morning, that the one thing she remembered about it, was it hanging in the shed with blood in its nose. Not sure if we realized it was about to be dinner for the next few months. It fed us well that winter.
We used to have a big bear trap in our yard at least once a year. The Fish and Wildlife people came and set the trap by the garden and would come a week later and check it, or come and remove the trap when they caught the bear. I remember the night we heard the horrible clang from out back of the house. We all ran to the window, which was open due to the warm weather. There it was. A bear. To us, being young and still fairly innocent and small, it was HUGE. This big bear groaning and swaying inside what looked like a big culvert with gates on each end. WE HAD CAUGHT US A BEAR.
We were not allowed to go see it. Mom and Dad were afraid that it might get loose and then we would be 2 instead of 3 little girls. Not sure which one of us it would have gone for. It was really cool when the parks people showed up to take the trap away, we got to look at the bear up close and personal. They are really scary up close. They look like big furry teddy bears till you get near. None of the ones they took away, were huge, but they sure look that way when your 10. They took them up into the mountains far away from where they were caught and released. Off to run with Bambi and Thumper in the forest.
Those days living in that house seem so many years ago. It was a simple time. We did not have tons of money, but always had good food, clothes and a home that was full of love. We fought like cats and dogs, but then what family doesn't. Our fun was being together and doing things that made us laugh. Singing in the car, sledding down the hill in the winter, climbing the tree for apples that were as big as a cantalope, and just loving life. Oh to be part of that again. Then we moved. Life began again in another house. It was all different then. Then "HE" came along. The fourth child. The "BROTHER".
I remember a house that we lived in at 4 mile. It was wonderful. We had a huge tree for climbing, and swinging on. There was a big field out back, that was great for sledding in the winter, and for hiding in the summer. No one locked their doors. You were welcome at any ones house anytime. Everyone knew everyone and we all rode the bus together during the school year. It was like a small community all in itself.
There was wildlife everywhere. Bambi and friends walked through the yard all throughout the year. Dad really hated them in the summer when the garden was in. No matter what we put up to curb the deer, they just kept coming and eating all the good veggies, and trampling everything else. He actually shot a deer one year, and Char told me this morning, that the one thing she remembered about it, was it hanging in the shed with blood in its nose. Not sure if we realized it was about to be dinner for the next few months. It fed us well that winter.
We used to have a big bear trap in our yard at least once a year. The Fish and Wildlife people came and set the trap by the garden and would come a week later and check it, or come and remove the trap when they caught the bear. I remember the night we heard the horrible clang from out back of the house. We all ran to the window, which was open due to the warm weather. There it was. A bear. To us, being young and still fairly innocent and small, it was HUGE. This big bear groaning and swaying inside what looked like a big culvert with gates on each end. WE HAD CAUGHT US A BEAR.
We were not allowed to go see it. Mom and Dad were afraid that it might get loose and then we would be 2 instead of 3 little girls. Not sure which one of us it would have gone for. It was really cool when the parks people showed up to take the trap away, we got to look at the bear up close and personal. They are really scary up close. They look like big furry teddy bears till you get near. None of the ones they took away, were huge, but they sure look that way when your 10. They took them up into the mountains far away from where they were caught and released. Off to run with Bambi and Thumper in the forest.
Those days living in that house seem so many years ago. It was a simple time. We did not have tons of money, but always had good food, clothes and a home that was full of love. We fought like cats and dogs, but then what family doesn't. Our fun was being together and doing things that made us laugh. Singing in the car, sledding down the hill in the winter, climbing the tree for apples that were as big as a cantalope, and just loving life. Oh to be part of that again. Then we moved. Life began again in another house. It was all different then. Then "HE" came along. The fourth child. The "BROTHER".
Monday, March 28, 2011
The Bucket List
People come and go throughout your life. There are the friends that you had in school, that you keep in contact with. There are the friends that you see at work and some that you spend time with away from work. Then there are the ones that are so much a part of your life, that you find it hard to be without them.
I have a couple of friends that I find it hard to be without when life throws me the little curves it does. Births, Deaths and the all important curves that it sends your way, like the mid life melt downs that happen.
The melt downs seem to be the times that I turn to my best, and I don't use that word lightly, friends.
I can remember laughing, crying and melting into a puddle, and out of the blue I get either a phone call or a knock on my door. It is funny how as you get older, your priorities and views change. The things that meant so much to you, are just fleeting glimpses of the past. I have a very good friend that just moved from a large farm, to a duplex and then to a larger house. She thought that downsizing would be great. In the end, she realized that just because you don't have all the people living in your house, does not mean you need a smaller house. She is now happily living in a 3 bedroom home again, with her husband and son (who will soon be out on his own). Her house is a home full of love and enjoyment, even when there is no one home. Sometime your perceptions of what are important, change.
My ideas of things that are important are put together in my "Bucket List". I decided that once you turn 50, you should have a list like this. You want to be nimble enough to do the things on the list, but no so old that you cannot enjoy the things you want to accomplish. The following is my "Bucket List" and why I think I need to do these things.
1. I want to see ALL of my children in one place at one time. I think at some point in their lives, they should all meet. Then maybe they would understand why they are the way they are.
2. I want to visit the British Isles. Some of my grandparents and theirs were from England, Wales and Scotland. Someday I would love to go and visit and see why I am the way I am(slightly bent)
3. I want to build my dream house. Not so big, I designed it some years ago and it is just big enough for me and the hubby. Nice to come visit, but no place to stay, cleaning is not my forte.
4. I want to be able to sit and talk to my friends without worrying about having to go to work, clean the house, do the dishes, do the laundry, vacuum, or cook meals. --(maybe someday I will have a house keeper that will do a better job than I do).
5. I want to swim in the ocean again. I want to sit and watch the waves come in as I see the sun go down. What a beautiful way to end a day, a year, a life.
6. I want to live close enough to my family, that if something happens, I can be there in just a short time. (I am getting old and want someone to come take care of me when I get old and feeble. Oh crap, I am old and feeble).
7. I wish all the happiness in the world for all the people who have been a part of my life and helped me make it to this point in my life. (Just remember this is all because of you.)
8. I want to wake up, sit and look at my wonderful husband and tell myself " You are the luckiest person in the world, to have found the one person in the world who has given you all the joy in your life." (Dirty socks, snoring, stinky pits, bed farts, hairy dogs everywhere, and the ultimate joy, his beautiful face to wake up to.
9. I want to stare into the mirror and without hesitation, love the person I see looking back. (without having that ugly one standing behind me saying, get a grip, the only way you are going to look better is with Spackle and a putty knife.)
10. I want all this BS to stop and for everyone to wake up smell the roses, put on your big boy or girl panties and deal with life. Nothing is free. Your life is what you make it. So get off your duffs and do what needs to be done to accomplish your goals. You only get out of it, what you put into it. I want to meet the people who came up with all these sayings, take them down to the river and kick their sorry asses off the bridge. Put that in your pipe and smoke it.
This is the list. Now help me get through it. I have a good life all in all. I want to enjoy what is left of my life and share some of the good times with family and friends. Life is to short to worry about the little things. You get out of it what you put in. Here I go again with the stupid sayings. Time to quit. Time, to do fun things. Time, to spend with the people I love. Time, to give back. Time, to give. Time, to love and be loved. In the end, know that all was good.
I have a couple of friends that I find it hard to be without when life throws me the little curves it does. Births, Deaths and the all important curves that it sends your way, like the mid life melt downs that happen.
The melt downs seem to be the times that I turn to my best, and I don't use that word lightly, friends.
I can remember laughing, crying and melting into a puddle, and out of the blue I get either a phone call or a knock on my door. It is funny how as you get older, your priorities and views change. The things that meant so much to you, are just fleeting glimpses of the past. I have a very good friend that just moved from a large farm, to a duplex and then to a larger house. She thought that downsizing would be great. In the end, she realized that just because you don't have all the people living in your house, does not mean you need a smaller house. She is now happily living in a 3 bedroom home again, with her husband and son (who will soon be out on his own). Her house is a home full of love and enjoyment, even when there is no one home. Sometime your perceptions of what are important, change.
My ideas of things that are important are put together in my "Bucket List". I decided that once you turn 50, you should have a list like this. You want to be nimble enough to do the things on the list, but no so old that you cannot enjoy the things you want to accomplish. The following is my "Bucket List" and why I think I need to do these things.
1. I want to see ALL of my children in one place at one time. I think at some point in their lives, they should all meet. Then maybe they would understand why they are the way they are.
2. I want to visit the British Isles. Some of my grandparents and theirs were from England, Wales and Scotland. Someday I would love to go and visit and see why I am the way I am(slightly bent)
3. I want to build my dream house. Not so big, I designed it some years ago and it is just big enough for me and the hubby. Nice to come visit, but no place to stay, cleaning is not my forte.
4. I want to be able to sit and talk to my friends without worrying about having to go to work, clean the house, do the dishes, do the laundry, vacuum, or cook meals. --(maybe someday I will have a house keeper that will do a better job than I do).
5. I want to swim in the ocean again. I want to sit and watch the waves come in as I see the sun go down. What a beautiful way to end a day, a year, a life.
6. I want to live close enough to my family, that if something happens, I can be there in just a short time. (I am getting old and want someone to come take care of me when I get old and feeble. Oh crap, I am old and feeble).
7. I wish all the happiness in the world for all the people who have been a part of my life and helped me make it to this point in my life. (Just remember this is all because of you.)
8. I want to wake up, sit and look at my wonderful husband and tell myself " You are the luckiest person in the world, to have found the one person in the world who has given you all the joy in your life." (Dirty socks, snoring, stinky pits, bed farts, hairy dogs everywhere, and the ultimate joy, his beautiful face to wake up to.
9. I want to stare into the mirror and without hesitation, love the person I see looking back. (without having that ugly one standing behind me saying, get a grip, the only way you are going to look better is with Spackle and a putty knife.)
10. I want all this BS to stop and for everyone to wake up smell the roses, put on your big boy or girl panties and deal with life. Nothing is free. Your life is what you make it. So get off your duffs and do what needs to be done to accomplish your goals. You only get out of it, what you put into it. I want to meet the people who came up with all these sayings, take them down to the river and kick their sorry asses off the bridge. Put that in your pipe and smoke it.
This is the list. Now help me get through it. I have a good life all in all. I want to enjoy what is left of my life and share some of the good times with family and friends. Life is to short to worry about the little things. You get out of it what you put in. Here I go again with the stupid sayings. Time to quit. Time, to do fun things. Time, to spend with the people I love. Time, to give back. Time, to give. Time, to love and be loved. In the end, know that all was good.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Don't run with scissors
Now be truthful, how many of you have run with scissors, just because your mom told you not to. The idea was to prove her wrong. You did not poke your eye out. Well maybe some of you, that do not have really good coordination may have stabbed yourself a number of times, but how many kids do you know that poked their eye out? Now be truthful. How many?
Where did mothers learn these sayings anyway? Is it just part of being a mom? Is this something that becomes part of the mom personality when your first child is born? My mom had them all.
My favourite one was, "If so and so jumped off a bridge would you have to do it too?". That one encompassed everything from wearing really ugly clothes, to bad hair dos, to drinking at some party, to driving with no licence. The list goes on and on.
My mother used it on numerous occasions, especially when we wanted to do something she thought was
not appropriate, or when we wanted to go to the parties that were held at Red Sands Beach.
I would stand there with my hands on my hips, crying, everyone is going**sniffle sniffle**.
She would stand her ground in the kitchen with her hands on her hips and yell, "IF EVERYONE JUMPED OFF THE BRIDGE WOULD YOU HAVE TO DO IT TOO?" (It always seemed to be an appropriate saying, as we had a bridge over the lake where I lived). That was her way of saying, there is not a chance in hell you are going to some drunken party, where I'm going to get a call in the middle of the night to come and get your sorry ass from the cop shop. Today, I think of all the things that I did that could have ended just that way, and laugh. Oh my god the degradation and humiliation that she could have put me through, had she just let me go to that party. The I told you so's that she would have had.
Everyone remember the "Your face will stick like that if you keep it up". My sisters and I (pre little brother days) would spend time making faces at each other, usually from the corners that our faces were stuffed into as a punishment for doing something we were not suppose to. That was one of the punishments we were forced to endure as children. It was better than the one where you had to hug the one you were fighting with. You could not make faces at someone when you were that close.
We had a house that had a hallway with 3 corners. Just big enough for 3 little girls in trouble. You had to stick your face in the corner and think about what you had done wrong. YA RIGHT. We would wait for Mom or Dad to leave the area and the faces would start. Sticking out tongues, pulling your eyelids or any other thing you could think of to make ugly faces at each other. Then out of the blue, there would be a voice holler "YOUR FACE WILL STICK LIKE THAT IF YOU KEEP IT UP". Funny I look in the mirror every day and don't see the remnants of any of those faces. Or maybe that was the start of these little lines that everyone seems to notice now. Hummm maybe Mom and Dad were right after all.
OH NO, did I really say that?
One other little diddy that comes to mind right now was this, "Just wait till your Father gets home". How many of you heard that one? In our house, it was not the punishment we were worried about, it was telling Dad what you had done. Mom would tell us, "Just wait till your dad gets home". We were never really sure what that meant. Most times Dad just came home, cleaned up and sat down to dinner. Now for me, my biggest fear was that my Dad would think less of me. He was, is and always will be my hero. I think to this day, Mom used that one just to throw a little fear into us so we would behave.
The things we were told to get us to behave. To act like humans, not animals. Now I find I'm a mother, grandmother and great grandmother with an ever growing repertoire of sayings that used to belong to my mother. I have over the years added to hers, but the old die hards are still many of my favourites.
Please use them with care. They do and always will, pack a heavy punch when delivered by a forceful Mother. The lady we all love.
Where did mothers learn these sayings anyway? Is it just part of being a mom? Is this something that becomes part of the mom personality when your first child is born? My mom had them all.
My favourite one was, "If so and so jumped off a bridge would you have to do it too?". That one encompassed everything from wearing really ugly clothes, to bad hair dos, to drinking at some party, to driving with no licence. The list goes on and on.
My mother used it on numerous occasions, especially when we wanted to do something she thought was
not appropriate, or when we wanted to go to the parties that were held at Red Sands Beach.
I would stand there with my hands on my hips, crying, everyone is going**sniffle sniffle**.
She would stand her ground in the kitchen with her hands on her hips and yell, "IF EVERYONE JUMPED OFF THE BRIDGE WOULD YOU HAVE TO DO IT TOO?" (It always seemed to be an appropriate saying, as we had a bridge over the lake where I lived). That was her way of saying, there is not a chance in hell you are going to some drunken party, where I'm going to get a call in the middle of the night to come and get your sorry ass from the cop shop. Today, I think of all the things that I did that could have ended just that way, and laugh. Oh my god the degradation and humiliation that she could have put me through, had she just let me go to that party. The I told you so's that she would have had.
Everyone remember the "Your face will stick like that if you keep it up". My sisters and I (pre little brother days) would spend time making faces at each other, usually from the corners that our faces were stuffed into as a punishment for doing something we were not suppose to. That was one of the punishments we were forced to endure as children. It was better than the one where you had to hug the one you were fighting with. You could not make faces at someone when you were that close.
We had a house that had a hallway with 3 corners. Just big enough for 3 little girls in trouble. You had to stick your face in the corner and think about what you had done wrong. YA RIGHT. We would wait for Mom or Dad to leave the area and the faces would start. Sticking out tongues, pulling your eyelids or any other thing you could think of to make ugly faces at each other. Then out of the blue, there would be a voice holler "YOUR FACE WILL STICK LIKE THAT IF YOU KEEP IT UP". Funny I look in the mirror every day and don't see the remnants of any of those faces. Or maybe that was the start of these little lines that everyone seems to notice now. Hummm maybe Mom and Dad were right after all.
OH NO, did I really say that?
One other little diddy that comes to mind right now was this, "Just wait till your Father gets home". How many of you heard that one? In our house, it was not the punishment we were worried about, it was telling Dad what you had done. Mom would tell us, "Just wait till your dad gets home". We were never really sure what that meant. Most times Dad just came home, cleaned up and sat down to dinner. Now for me, my biggest fear was that my Dad would think less of me. He was, is and always will be my hero. I think to this day, Mom used that one just to throw a little fear into us so we would behave.
The things we were told to get us to behave. To act like humans, not animals. Now I find I'm a mother, grandmother and great grandmother with an ever growing repertoire of sayings that used to belong to my mother. I have over the years added to hers, but the old die hards are still many of my favourites.
Please use them with care. They do and always will, pack a heavy punch when delivered by a forceful Mother. The lady we all love.
Friday, March 25, 2011
25 years and counting
Ok now what? Should I go somewhere, do something, see someone, or just stay home and be a vegetable. Not sure. Call a friend. They always have great ideas. No? No ideas? What? Now what?
Ok back to my original question, NOW WHAT?
1. Put up a dog fence.
2. Clean out the office and get rid of 5 years of paper work that I have not needed to keep.
3. Build a garden and green house and plant my garden and play in the dirt.
4. Spend time with my wonderful husband and rekindle the love we had when we met, 25 years ago this
year.
5. Go on a wonderful trip to some island paradise, sit on the beach, have drinks served to me under an
umbrella and watch the sun go down and enjoy life, away from the rat race of work and daily life.
Now most people would choose the later on the list. My preference is #4. We have been married for 25 years this coming September.
I would like to tell you my story.
I arrived in Fort Nelson, British Columbia on Wednesday, July 26th, 1984. After driving for over 24 hours, we arrived and moved into an apartment. Cathy and I and two kids. I knew no one else. What have I done? Can't sleep. Worried with no money. Up early the next day to look for a job. Timing is everything. I walked into the Fort Hotel lounge and spoke to the hotel manager. They had just fired a guy two hours earlier and were looking for another bartender. They offered and I accepted. I started that afternoon at 4PM.
I went back to the apartment. Got on my shortest dress. Did the hair and makeup thing and started my new adventure. I arrived to meet Gabe. A giggling reddy/blonde haired girl who had been there for some time. She helped me get acclamated to the bar. Out of the corner of my eye, I spied this rugged looking guy, who looked like he had just come in from the bush. Unbenounced to me he had, returning to town after 3 weeks out in the boonies with nothing but men, mud and mosquitoes.
Gabe being the joker she was, said "kind of cute huh?" I guess if you like a guy with a moustache that big. He sat at the end of the bar for over two hours watching every move I made. I would come and go and he just sat there staring at me. It was time to put an end to this once and for all.
Tell the moustache, "I'm here for a good time not a long time." Without skipping a beat, she hauled ass down to the end of the bar and told him. I was mortified. Trying hard to hide in a bar that is as small as the Fort lounge is nearly impossible. Red is not my color, I looked like a lobster for want of a better description.
To my surprise, he just grinned. Then giggling, Gabe returned. He asked if you want to go see some puppies(ya right, mine I bet). I laughed and strolled down to talk to him. That was the start of what was to become a very long and trying love story.
I moved in to the apartment on the hill. Nice, clean and a corner apt. that had two balconies. I was asked to pay the electric and he would take care of the rest. He had a company truck, and as I found out later a girl friend that worked with him in camp. That was about to come to a screeching halt.
As the months went by, I began to feel something that had eluded me for some time. Love? Is that what it was? I was so in love with him, I called her to the apartment and told her about us. She just stared at me and asked me what right I thought I had moving in here. She was appolled and wanted to talk to him. I kicked open the door, woke him up, told him what I had done and I retreated to my bedroom, to wait out the yelling and slamming of doors, fully expecting to be asked to leave the apartment forever. When all the doors had been slammed and all the crying, (except mine) had stopped, I hear a tap tap tap on my door. He walked in, sat on the bed and asked, "are you coming to bed?" I asked, "for tonight or for good?". We held each other tight, all night long. And so the story goes.
That was 27 years ago this coming summer. We married on the 27th of September two years later. He is my knight in shining armour. We have moved all over North America together. We are now settled in a small town in Missouri, happy in the knowledge that we will grow old together. I still see the man I fell in love with so many years ago. When I talk about him, my eyes sparkle. He is my world. He is my lover. He is my best friend. This is to 25 more wonderful years my love.
Ok back to my original question, NOW WHAT?
1. Put up a dog fence.
2. Clean out the office and get rid of 5 years of paper work that I have not needed to keep.
3. Build a garden and green house and plant my garden and play in the dirt.
4. Spend time with my wonderful husband and rekindle the love we had when we met, 25 years ago this
year.
5. Go on a wonderful trip to some island paradise, sit on the beach, have drinks served to me under an
umbrella and watch the sun go down and enjoy life, away from the rat race of work and daily life.
Now most people would choose the later on the list. My preference is #4. We have been married for 25 years this coming September.
I would like to tell you my story.
I arrived in Fort Nelson, British Columbia on Wednesday, July 26th, 1984. After driving for over 24 hours, we arrived and moved into an apartment. Cathy and I and two kids. I knew no one else. What have I done? Can't sleep. Worried with no money. Up early the next day to look for a job. Timing is everything. I walked into the Fort Hotel lounge and spoke to the hotel manager. They had just fired a guy two hours earlier and were looking for another bartender. They offered and I accepted. I started that afternoon at 4PM.
I went back to the apartment. Got on my shortest dress. Did the hair and makeup thing and started my new adventure. I arrived to meet Gabe. A giggling reddy/blonde haired girl who had been there for some time. She helped me get acclamated to the bar. Out of the corner of my eye, I spied this rugged looking guy, who looked like he had just come in from the bush. Unbenounced to me he had, returning to town after 3 weeks out in the boonies with nothing but men, mud and mosquitoes.
Gabe being the joker she was, said "kind of cute huh?" I guess if you like a guy with a moustache that big. He sat at the end of the bar for over two hours watching every move I made. I would come and go and he just sat there staring at me. It was time to put an end to this once and for all.
Tell the moustache, "I'm here for a good time not a long time." Without skipping a beat, she hauled ass down to the end of the bar and told him. I was mortified. Trying hard to hide in a bar that is as small as the Fort lounge is nearly impossible. Red is not my color, I looked like a lobster for want of a better description.
To my surprise, he just grinned. Then giggling, Gabe returned. He asked if you want to go see some puppies(ya right, mine I bet). I laughed and strolled down to talk to him. That was the start of what was to become a very long and trying love story.
I moved in to the apartment on the hill. Nice, clean and a corner apt. that had two balconies. I was asked to pay the electric and he would take care of the rest. He had a company truck, and as I found out later a girl friend that worked with him in camp. That was about to come to a screeching halt.
As the months went by, I began to feel something that had eluded me for some time. Love? Is that what it was? I was so in love with him, I called her to the apartment and told her about us. She just stared at me and asked me what right I thought I had moving in here. She was appolled and wanted to talk to him. I kicked open the door, woke him up, told him what I had done and I retreated to my bedroom, to wait out the yelling and slamming of doors, fully expecting to be asked to leave the apartment forever. When all the doors had been slammed and all the crying, (except mine) had stopped, I hear a tap tap tap on my door. He walked in, sat on the bed and asked, "are you coming to bed?" I asked, "for tonight or for good?". We held each other tight, all night long. And so the story goes.
That was 27 years ago this coming summer. We married on the 27th of September two years later. He is my knight in shining armour. We have moved all over North America together. We are now settled in a small town in Missouri, happy in the knowledge that we will grow old together. I still see the man I fell in love with so many years ago. When I talk about him, my eyes sparkle. He is my world. He is my lover. He is my best friend. This is to 25 more wonderful years my love.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Work
Does anyone know why we work? I have been pondering this for some time now. Is it because we need money? Status? Things?
Well I have come to the realization that we work because as kids we were told we had to. I can remember being told that as part of the family I was responsible for doing my part. My part consisted of cutting the wood (kindling especially, as it is hard to start a wood stove with a chunk of wood the size of your leg), weeding the garden and cleaning one room of the house. Now the rooms of the house we had the choice of were the kitchen, living room or the (YUCK) bathroom. In our house the choice went by seniority. The person that got out of bed first got the first choice. Guess who never ever got up before anyone else. You got it, ME. Sometimes I got lucky and one my sisters would want to go somewhere and the fastest room to clean was the bathroom, so I got a reprieve. Then my mother got tired of the yelling and fighting, so there was a rotation started. That stopped all the grumbling and griping about having to do the same room over and over.
Then there was the weeding of the garden. You had a least 3 rows each to weed. This was not too bad later on in the season, but early on when the new plants were just coming up, it was touch and go sometimes as to whether you were pulling weeds or the plants that you were going to be eating. Of course, Dad was always around to tell us to stop pulling out the new plants. Funny how when you are a kid, it is work and as you get older, you acutally go out and find a place to dig up and plant each and every seed with loving care. You spend hours planting, weeding, and watering. Sometimes I look back and wonder what all the fussing was about. Now I enjoy digging in the dirt(reverting back to my childhood again).
The wonderful outcome of all this work was the allowance that you received for all your hard work. Now in this day and time, children would think we were being used as slaves for very little pay. To us it seemed like big bucks. We received $ .50 per week for all that we did. It would take us to the movies, get us a Big bag of penny candy and a soda at the theater. We were rich. If you got $1.00 a week, Oh My God, your parents were rich. It was even better when your friends worked at the theater, then you got in for free. On Saturday afternoon, after cleaning and weeding (or as we thought of it the slave fest in the morning), we would get dressed and head to town for some fun. Everyone would meet at Ken's cafe and drink cherry or lemon cokes and smoke in the back booth, thinking that no one could see you if you stayed back there away from the windows(every parent knew where their kids were. There were too many spies back then). It was a time when small things made you happy.
By 5 or 6 o'clock you were tired from all the fun you had during the day and well on your way back home for dinner. When asked what you had done all day, the answer was always "Nothing". Those were the fun days. No cell phones. No cars. You walked everywhere you went. Your friends all met you in the middle of town, so no one had far to walk. You made fun where ever you were. Sometimes I wish those days were back. No one locked their doors or cars. Kids were kids. Fun was simple and the world was safe. That's it. I quit. I want the old days back. Swings, climbing trees and Hide and go seek. The old days, just a memory, but what a memory.
Well I have come to the realization that we work because as kids we were told we had to. I can remember being told that as part of the family I was responsible for doing my part. My part consisted of cutting the wood (kindling especially, as it is hard to start a wood stove with a chunk of wood the size of your leg), weeding the garden and cleaning one room of the house. Now the rooms of the house we had the choice of were the kitchen, living room or the (YUCK) bathroom. In our house the choice went by seniority. The person that got out of bed first got the first choice. Guess who never ever got up before anyone else. You got it, ME. Sometimes I got lucky and one my sisters would want to go somewhere and the fastest room to clean was the bathroom, so I got a reprieve. Then my mother got tired of the yelling and fighting, so there was a rotation started. That stopped all the grumbling and griping about having to do the same room over and over.
Then there was the weeding of the garden. You had a least 3 rows each to weed. This was not too bad later on in the season, but early on when the new plants were just coming up, it was touch and go sometimes as to whether you were pulling weeds or the plants that you were going to be eating. Of course, Dad was always around to tell us to stop pulling out the new plants. Funny how when you are a kid, it is work and as you get older, you acutally go out and find a place to dig up and plant each and every seed with loving care. You spend hours planting, weeding, and watering. Sometimes I look back and wonder what all the fussing was about. Now I enjoy digging in the dirt(reverting back to my childhood again).
The wonderful outcome of all this work was the allowance that you received for all your hard work. Now in this day and time, children would think we were being used as slaves for very little pay. To us it seemed like big bucks. We received $ .50 per week for all that we did. It would take us to the movies, get us a Big bag of penny candy and a soda at the theater. We were rich. If you got $1.00 a week, Oh My God, your parents were rich. It was even better when your friends worked at the theater, then you got in for free. On Saturday afternoon, after cleaning and weeding (or as we thought of it the slave fest in the morning), we would get dressed and head to town for some fun. Everyone would meet at Ken's cafe and drink cherry or lemon cokes and smoke in the back booth, thinking that no one could see you if you stayed back there away from the windows(every parent knew where their kids were. There were too many spies back then). It was a time when small things made you happy.
By 5 or 6 o'clock you were tired from all the fun you had during the day and well on your way back home for dinner. When asked what you had done all day, the answer was always "Nothing". Those were the fun days. No cell phones. No cars. You walked everywhere you went. Your friends all met you in the middle of town, so no one had far to walk. You made fun where ever you were. Sometimes I wish those days were back. No one locked their doors or cars. Kids were kids. Fun was simple and the world was safe. That's it. I quit. I want the old days back. Swings, climbing trees and Hide and go seek. The old days, just a memory, but what a memory.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Life slips away
The text came this morning from a friend at the hospital. I was sleeping and did not hear. Walking up, the first thing I did was grab the phone and look at the screen. She had passed away at 04:55 this morning with her husband by her side. Now what? Do I call? Do I cry? What do you do when you find out a friend has died.
It is hard to think when things like this happen. Calls are to be made. Friends to hug. Condolences to give. The what ifs happen. What if I had just gone to see her yesterday. Then the calls start and your heart opens and the flood gates break.
I have, by far the two best sisters in the world. They both openned their hearts and told me that she was so lucky to have had a friend like me. I don't see why they said that, but thanked them and told them both I loved them. They told me stories of their losses and how it is good that I was her friend and had taken the time to spend with her, especially while she still was aware that people were around.
I can remember when I heard that she was in the ICU after having a stoke last fall. I left the house early, so I could go and see her before work. I arrived and was the only one there. Her husband arrived minutes later as did her sister and the Doctor. She is a fiesty girl and flailed all her appendages when the doctor wanted to see her move. WE all laughed. Now this. What happened? Why did someone so full of life have to die? The questions that come over us when this happens, will haunt us for sometime.
I have another friend who wrote about death and how people see it. She was a hospice nurse for a time. She spoke about the questions that patients have before dying. The timing of this piece was great. As I read, it gave me peace to know that I was not alone in my hunt for answers.
Friends help each other through these times. The hugs and tears are all part of the end of life senario that we all have to go through. Not much makes the transition easier, but it is nice to know that you have others that feel the same way as you do. Everyone says, that they are now with the angels, God has taken them to be with him, and they are in a better place. How do we know that? How do we come to terms with the loss of someone so vibrant and loving of life. I guess that over the years, people find their own ways to cope with loss. At this time in my life, I am questioning a lot of things. This is just one more thing to add to my list. Maybe before it is my time, I will have some answers. Until then, I will be with my friends and family and help my patients in the best way I know how.
So until it is my time to go, I will hold the hand of those who need me, I will be with those who have no one and will be good with the fact that I know I have done what I can. Be well my friend, and wherever you may be, be safe and may an angel (if they are out there) be on your shoulder. You will be missed by many. You will be in my heart always.
It is hard to think when things like this happen. Calls are to be made. Friends to hug. Condolences to give. The what ifs happen. What if I had just gone to see her yesterday. Then the calls start and your heart opens and the flood gates break.
I have, by far the two best sisters in the world. They both openned their hearts and told me that she was so lucky to have had a friend like me. I don't see why they said that, but thanked them and told them both I loved them. They told me stories of their losses and how it is good that I was her friend and had taken the time to spend with her, especially while she still was aware that people were around.
I can remember when I heard that she was in the ICU after having a stoke last fall. I left the house early, so I could go and see her before work. I arrived and was the only one there. Her husband arrived minutes later as did her sister and the Doctor. She is a fiesty girl and flailed all her appendages when the doctor wanted to see her move. WE all laughed. Now this. What happened? Why did someone so full of life have to die? The questions that come over us when this happens, will haunt us for sometime.
I have another friend who wrote about death and how people see it. She was a hospice nurse for a time. She spoke about the questions that patients have before dying. The timing of this piece was great. As I read, it gave me peace to know that I was not alone in my hunt for answers.
Friends help each other through these times. The hugs and tears are all part of the end of life senario that we all have to go through. Not much makes the transition easier, but it is nice to know that you have others that feel the same way as you do. Everyone says, that they are now with the angels, God has taken them to be with him, and they are in a better place. How do we know that? How do we come to terms with the loss of someone so vibrant and loving of life. I guess that over the years, people find their own ways to cope with loss. At this time in my life, I am questioning a lot of things. This is just one more thing to add to my list. Maybe before it is my time, I will have some answers. Until then, I will be with my friends and family and help my patients in the best way I know how.
So until it is my time to go, I will hold the hand of those who need me, I will be with those who have no one and will be good with the fact that I know I have done what I can. Be well my friend, and wherever you may be, be safe and may an angel (if they are out there) be on your shoulder. You will be missed by many. You will be in my heart always.
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