I was sitting at work today, looking at all my "friends", trying to figure out what it was that brought the spark of awareness to their eyes. I watched them talk to each other, each in their own language...nothing that meant anything to me, or to each other, and yet a conversation held between them that seemed to be understood! And I'd see it, now and then, that spark of who they used to be...sadder still was seeing that they, for a moment remembered it too..the person they used to be.
The "administration", in an effort to convince prospective "residents" families that we are a caring place to be, bought plant s for the planters out in front of our building. Now I understand the principle...what I do not understand is someone planting a paltry smattering of flowers, and then letting them die of neglect in the 1st place someone with a family member sees upon entering out gates! We care enough put 'em here, but 'enough to care for and nourish them once they're here! That's what it says to me! Harsh, I agree!
But then I started noticing that the biggest smiles, the most clear-eyed looks came when I wore COLOR! Red, deep blue, violet got reactions from even the most distant of my "friends"! And so I think...maybe it's color that's missing! My darling "Wilma" loves my hands...she holds them for minutes at a time, smoothing the skin on my fingers and arms...it dawns on me..she's trying to "wipe off" the "dirt"...I'm very tanned, she's very pale...she sees the color! "Ellen", crying over the death of her daughter yesterday, 30 years ago stops long enough to exclaim, "That's such a lovely blue sweater!"
Everything to them is muted now...dull greens and tans...no color! SO. I came home tonight, and my room mate and I culled from the veritable jungle on the patio, 3 flats of flowers! Pansies, Mums, Geraniums! All colors and sizes! I'm not going to ask permission...I'm not going to ask for compensation...I'm going to do it on my own time. But on Monday morning, there will be a riot of colorful flowers in our courtyard. And they will tell all who live there, and those who visit that this IS a place where things are nurtured, and cared for. That EVERYTHING & EVERYONE here, matters, and is cared for and deserves COLOR in their life!
Long may we bloom...
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Top 10 Reasons I Hate Alzheimer's
I've been away from my blog for a while...my apologies to anyone who might have dropped in looking for me. I have a new/old job. It's a job I've done before, only in a new place, and with new people. It's a care facility for Alzheimer's patients. Have I mentioned yet today how much I hate this disease! I haven't? Unusual for me..I usually manage to work it into the conversation at least a dozen times a day! It is THE most insiduous, horrific thing I have ever had the occasion to be involved with.
Imagine...every morning when you wake up, it's the day after your only daughter has died...the grief is fresh and heart-rending.
Imagine...you mowed the lawn, played a little foodball with your grandson, and then went upstairs for a little nap...only to wake in a strange place full of people you don't know who keep telling you you "live" here now!
Sound like an episode of "The Twilight Zone"? Well, it is. But for the people I work with every day, it's their reality. And they have no idea how they got there, or how to get out! Imagine!
No wonder then that they imprint and cling to people like me...people who are there EVERY day..when you're that scared and that confused, you hang onto every, any thing you see that you remember. For my friends, that's someone or something they see every day!
I have no wish here to belittle, denegrate or accuse. I am a 1st hand observer of what this disease does...to people, to families, to friends, to those who care. My wish here is only, maybe for my own sake, to spit out, and I do mean spit, my disgust, my horror, and my hatred for what I consider to be the most heinious disease we've ever fought. Just like the "smart" bombs, it leaves the "buildings" unharmed, but destroys all of the humanity, the wonderful humans who once lived and thought and loved there. My God, what a horror! Nothing but empty "buildings".
So...here is my "Top 10 List of Things I Hate Most About Alzheimer's Disease"
#10. It leaves empty "buildings".
#9. It takes away wonderful, beautiful people...people who still had things to do, something to do, and to teach.
#8 It takes those people away from their families, people who loved them before they understood they still had something to do...something to teach.
#7 It puts those people through a daily hell not of their own making.
#6. It's hearing someone say, "They used to BE someone!" They are STILL someone...just someone different!
#5 It's a hell their families and loved ones have to watch, and can't help them with.
#4 It's seeing the families feel quilty for for not being able to help. You can't. It's not your fault.
#3 Seeing the hurt look in a family member's eye when their "loved" one clings to me, and doesn't remember who you are.
#2 It's knowing, it will never "get better"...that that wonderful person is gone forever, even tho they're sitting right in front of you.
And the #1 reason I hate this disease? Is having to watch it, praying every night that someone like me will be there if one day I wake up from my nap....
Imagine!
Imagine...every morning when you wake up, it's the day after your only daughter has died...the grief is fresh and heart-rending.
Imagine...you mowed the lawn, played a little foodball with your grandson, and then went upstairs for a little nap...only to wake in a strange place full of people you don't know who keep telling you you "live" here now!
Sound like an episode of "The Twilight Zone"? Well, it is. But for the people I work with every day, it's their reality. And they have no idea how they got there, or how to get out! Imagine!
No wonder then that they imprint and cling to people like me...people who are there EVERY day..when you're that scared and that confused, you hang onto every, any thing you see that you remember. For my friends, that's someone or something they see every day!
I have no wish here to belittle, denegrate or accuse. I am a 1st hand observer of what this disease does...to people, to families, to friends, to those who care. My wish here is only, maybe for my own sake, to spit out, and I do mean spit, my disgust, my horror, and my hatred for what I consider to be the most heinious disease we've ever fought. Just like the "smart" bombs, it leaves the "buildings" unharmed, but destroys all of the humanity, the wonderful humans who once lived and thought and loved there. My God, what a horror! Nothing but empty "buildings".
So...here is my "Top 10 List of Things I Hate Most About Alzheimer's Disease"
#10. It leaves empty "buildings".
#9. It takes away wonderful, beautiful people...people who still had things to do, something to do, and to teach.
#8 It takes those people away from their families, people who loved them before they understood they still had something to do...something to teach.
#7 It puts those people through a daily hell not of their own making.
#6. It's hearing someone say, "They used to BE someone!" They are STILL someone...just someone different!
#5 It's a hell their families and loved ones have to watch, and can't help them with.
#4 It's seeing the families feel quilty for for not being able to help. You can't. It's not your fault.
#3 Seeing the hurt look in a family member's eye when their "loved" one clings to me, and doesn't remember who you are.
#2 It's knowing, it will never "get better"...that that wonderful person is gone forever, even tho they're sitting right in front of you.
And the #1 reason I hate this disease? Is having to watch it, praying every night that someone like me will be there if one day I wake up from my nap....
Imagine!
Monday, May 11, 2009
Distractions
I have been totally remiss with my blog. There have been distractions. The smell of pine trees in the mountains...the smell of Lilacs in the city...the aching of muscles 20 years past doing what I ask of them every day. Distactions. The smell of my Colorado waking up for yet another year of living. The watching for the color of the soil to change, letting you know you've given this or that plant enough. The difference between the smell of wet and dry soil. The feeling that there is still...still something you should be out there doing, that you haven't done yet! And Spring is the time to find it!!
The knowledge that you are past what you always thought you were capable of, and haven't gotten there yet comes to mind. Spring makes you believe you can still get there. And so ,tired and sore, you rise to it's call , and more this time of year than any other, to prove you can. No matter your age, no matter your abilities...you go out there to prove you "still can".
I wish that was a "guy thing"...that they were the only ones who felt it neccessary to go out, "prove" they still have a reason for taking up space and air on this planet that is losing both at a rapid rate. Women have that drive too, to feel "productive". And when they can't anymore, in the "true" sense of the world, they try to hold their own, any way they can.
All of this is about Mother's Day I guess. I guess I've finally gotten around to giving "my take" on this holiday. Holiday. Like we have to designate a day to doing what is the most inevitable function we have in this life. We are born to bear...we are born to care for what we bear until they push us away and can do for themselves. A mother bear raises her young knowing, working toward the day her young will not need her any more. Much the same with most species who have been here longer than us! Humans are the only species on the planet who "keep" their young with them into adult hood!
I was a selfish Mother...I raised my children as quick as I could...I knew next year, there would be another "litter"...in my case another set of problems that would require my attention. I take no pride in that. I did what, knowing myself, I had to do.
A bear will give all her attention to the cub who needs it most. It knows which cub will survive on it's own and which one needs help.
They resent me for it now. I'd say hate, but that's a strong word...even a full grown male bear will stop short of killing it's mother in the wild, even over a fresh kill. Unless it's hungry...for food, or attention, or the revenge for the attention it never thought it got.
We as parents raise our children in flawed ways...ways flawed by our memories of how we were raise, of lessons learned by our own experiences, of our own egotistical beliefs. None of us can EVER, will NEVER be able to see how very right and wrong we were until our children's children are as old as we are now. And then, it will be too late..because all of that wonderful knowledge will be considered as nothing more than "old shit" from "old people". It will be dissmissed, dissregarded, and forgotten. OH, the things that have been forgotten! The stories of our families...the recipies I couldn't find...the times I didn't listen when Gramma wanted to talk.
So as a Mother, to my children I say, listen. Even when I'm wrong. I'm not always wrong. And I'm never wrong for the wrong reasons...most of what I've told you in my life, and your's, was what I believed, and for the right reasons. I believed it, and thought it would help you. I got a lot of it from your Gramma, and her from hers....
I love you both my darlings.
The knowledge that you are past what you always thought you were capable of, and haven't gotten there yet comes to mind. Spring makes you believe you can still get there. And so ,tired and sore, you rise to it's call , and more this time of year than any other, to prove you can. No matter your age, no matter your abilities...you go out there to prove you "still can".
I wish that was a "guy thing"...that they were the only ones who felt it neccessary to go out, "prove" they still have a reason for taking up space and air on this planet that is losing both at a rapid rate. Women have that drive too, to feel "productive". And when they can't anymore, in the "true" sense of the world, they try to hold their own, any way they can.
All of this is about Mother's Day I guess. I guess I've finally gotten around to giving "my take" on this holiday. Holiday. Like we have to designate a day to doing what is the most inevitable function we have in this life. We are born to bear...we are born to care for what we bear until they push us away and can do for themselves. A mother bear raises her young knowing, working toward the day her young will not need her any more. Much the same with most species who have been here longer than us! Humans are the only species on the planet who "keep" their young with them into adult hood!
I was a selfish Mother...I raised my children as quick as I could...I knew next year, there would be another "litter"...in my case another set of problems that would require my attention. I take no pride in that. I did what, knowing myself, I had to do.
A bear will give all her attention to the cub who needs it most. It knows which cub will survive on it's own and which one needs help.
They resent me for it now. I'd say hate, but that's a strong word...even a full grown male bear will stop short of killing it's mother in the wild, even over a fresh kill. Unless it's hungry...for food, or attention, or the revenge for the attention it never thought it got.
We as parents raise our children in flawed ways...ways flawed by our memories of how we were raise, of lessons learned by our own experiences, of our own egotistical beliefs. None of us can EVER, will NEVER be able to see how very right and wrong we were until our children's children are as old as we are now. And then, it will be too late..because all of that wonderful knowledge will be considered as nothing more than "old shit" from "old people". It will be dissmissed, dissregarded, and forgotten. OH, the things that have been forgotten! The stories of our families...the recipies I couldn't find...the times I didn't listen when Gramma wanted to talk.
So as a Mother, to my children I say, listen. Even when I'm wrong. I'm not always wrong. And I'm never wrong for the wrong reasons...most of what I've told you in my life, and your's, was what I believed, and for the right reasons. I believed it, and thought it would help you. I got a lot of it from your Gramma, and her from hers....
I love you both my darlings.
Friday, April 10, 2009
"until I met a man who had no legs."
This has been the most amazing day! I've been dreading it all week, having to leave my hotel room for a room in a friends house. Knowing it's an impostion no matter how gracious her offer. We're a lot alike, my friend and I...both with grown children and very used to having our own "place". Private, quiet people the two of us. So, I know she's happy to help and sorry she has to.
The day started with me trying to shove 50 pounds of stuff in a 20 pound suitcase that was old when I was young. I'll tell you, it resisted the proccess! But with "friends" (thank you, you know who you are) bouncing, and a few not-so-polite words, it finally closed. By then, I was already
beat! I gethered everything else together and managed to get out by check out time.
So there I was, pulling approximately 100 pounds of 30 year old luggage on protesting wheels to the bus stop three blocks away. As I walked, I muttered to myself about how unfair all this was. Being tossed out, having a suitcase with square wheels, the fact that the bus would probably be late. Generally about everything that was wrong in my life, which was just about everything at that moment, in my estimation.
I was so busy watching the sidewalk and feuling my private "pity party" that I had run into the stroller before I even saw it. I muttered something without looking up which I hoped would be taken as an apology, thought I wasn't feeling exactly apologetic right that moment. When you see someone coming, move out of the way for God's sake!
I pulled my luggage straight at the bus stop and glanced into the stroller. It was big and old, possible older than my suitcase, and was held together in several places with duct tape. Inside was a baby, six or eight months old with carrot red curls, bright blue eyes, and a smile that took up his entire face. He giggled at the bump to the stroller, and I couldn't help it. I had to smile back. Something about his baby stare bothered me, but...
This time I actually looked at the woman holding the stroller handle. She wouldn't be called pretty, but her eyes were the same blue as the baby's and she had a calm, peaceful air about her. This time I apologized to her for running into the stroller. She smiled at me, and I was suddenly puzzled that I hadn't thought of her as pretty. She glanced down at the baby with a look of love you could have seen across the street.
"Doesn't appear Mikey minded a bit! It's nice to hear him laugh a little." That "something" in the back of my mind jumped and I looked at him again. His blue gaze seemed to be looking right at me, but his eyes had a far away, unfocused shine. His head seemed to big for his little neck to support and trembled just a bit.
I said something about how cute he was and her smile widened. "Oh I know! He's a real heartbreaker, Mikey. Already has 2 marraige proposals from the nurses. He's only 3, but that's 2 years longer than they said I'd have him, so every time he smiles, just makes my day."
In less than a second my mind flashed on my two beautiful children...my two incredible grandsons. I suddenely for the life of me couldn't remember one single thing that had seemed so horribly wrong with my life just minutes ago. The bus pulled up just then...it wasn't mine but I helped her with the stroller and they were gone. I just sat there, thinking about Mikey's smile.
My bus pulled up a few minutes later, and the day again took a downturn...the lift was broken, and no way was I getting my "load" on the bus without it. I had just started the thought "It figures..." when a young Hispanic man got off the bus. Big man! The kind that would have scared the hell out of me in a dark alley. He smiled, picked the whole bundle up and put it on the bus! I stood there with my mouth open for a few seconds, then got on the bus. I thanked him & he just waved it off.
Again, I sat, just thinking about things, and differently I might add. I had started the day angry and complaining about my lot. When his stop came, the young ma touched my shoulder and wished me luck with the bags! All my amazment for the day faded 35 minutes later when I got off the bus in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains.
Now understand, the Rockies aren't like other mountains...there are no rolling hills that gradually increase in elevation. We have the foothills...one minute you're flat, the next you're looking up a sidewalk that goes at 90 degrees straight up! "Oh my God!" It was all I could get out, and 15 minutes and 3/4 of a block later, I couldn't even manage that!
At that moment, the very moment I had decided to stop and sleep right there on the sidewalk for the night, the next miracle of the day happened. A car pulled to the curb and the man inside asked if I was going up the hill, eyeing my luggage dubiously. I told him yeas, and he asked if I would like a ride. Now several things went through my mind...it was only 3 more blocks straight uphill, he might be a serial killer, Mom always said say no. I gave it exactly 1 seconds thought, told him yes and sank into the front seat! This wonderful man put my bags in the car, drove me right to the door and took them all out for me! I would have kissed him, but I think the weeping embarrassed him enough!
And my last miracle? My dear friend came home from her job and said she had talked to her employer about me and they wanted to hire me! In one minute, she erased 9 months of frustration and fear! It isn't a sure thing...I have to fill out the application and talk to them, but it's greenhouse work, which I'm familiar with and love, and they seem very excited that I would work the entire season. Imagine! Getting paid to play in the dirt and plant flowers! Heaven!
That has been my day of miracles! Of unexpected kindness from strangers...of a lesson in gratefulness taught by a child...of the miraculous offer of a job that came out of now where!
And so I sit here now, warm and safe, and think of my two children...my two beautiful grown children. On the computer I pull up pictures of my grandsons and study the perfect, intelligent little faces smiling at me, first one then the other. I'm going to bed now, in the soft bed my friend has offered, knowing that tomorrow, I have a job that will make me feel useful and human again.
Happiness is where you find it...and it's everywhere.
The day started with me trying to shove 50 pounds of stuff in a 20 pound suitcase that was old when I was young. I'll tell you, it resisted the proccess! But with "friends" (thank you, you know who you are) bouncing, and a few not-so-polite words, it finally closed. By then, I was already
beat! I gethered everything else together and managed to get out by check out time.
So there I was, pulling approximately 100 pounds of 30 year old luggage on protesting wheels to the bus stop three blocks away. As I walked, I muttered to myself about how unfair all this was. Being tossed out, having a suitcase with square wheels, the fact that the bus would probably be late. Generally about everything that was wrong in my life, which was just about everything at that moment, in my estimation.
I was so busy watching the sidewalk and feuling my private "pity party" that I had run into the stroller before I even saw it. I muttered something without looking up which I hoped would be taken as an apology, thought I wasn't feeling exactly apologetic right that moment. When you see someone coming, move out of the way for God's sake!
I pulled my luggage straight at the bus stop and glanced into the stroller. It was big and old, possible older than my suitcase, and was held together in several places with duct tape. Inside was a baby, six or eight months old with carrot red curls, bright blue eyes, and a smile that took up his entire face. He giggled at the bump to the stroller, and I couldn't help it. I had to smile back. Something about his baby stare bothered me, but...
This time I actually looked at the woman holding the stroller handle. She wouldn't be called pretty, but her eyes were the same blue as the baby's and she had a calm, peaceful air about her. This time I apologized to her for running into the stroller. She smiled at me, and I was suddenly puzzled that I hadn't thought of her as pretty. She glanced down at the baby with a look of love you could have seen across the street.
"Doesn't appear Mikey minded a bit! It's nice to hear him laugh a little." That "something" in the back of my mind jumped and I looked at him again. His blue gaze seemed to be looking right at me, but his eyes had a far away, unfocused shine. His head seemed to big for his little neck to support and trembled just a bit.
I said something about how cute he was and her smile widened. "Oh I know! He's a real heartbreaker, Mikey. Already has 2 marraige proposals from the nurses. He's only 3, but that's 2 years longer than they said I'd have him, so every time he smiles, just makes my day."
In less than a second my mind flashed on my two beautiful children...my two incredible grandsons. I suddenely for the life of me couldn't remember one single thing that had seemed so horribly wrong with my life just minutes ago. The bus pulled up just then...it wasn't mine but I helped her with the stroller and they were gone. I just sat there, thinking about Mikey's smile.
My bus pulled up a few minutes later, and the day again took a downturn...the lift was broken, and no way was I getting my "load" on the bus without it. I had just started the thought "It figures..." when a young Hispanic man got off the bus. Big man! The kind that would have scared the hell out of me in a dark alley. He smiled, picked the whole bundle up and put it on the bus! I stood there with my mouth open for a few seconds, then got on the bus. I thanked him & he just waved it off.
Again, I sat, just thinking about things, and differently I might add. I had started the day angry and complaining about my lot. When his stop came, the young ma touched my shoulder and wished me luck with the bags! All my amazment for the day faded 35 minutes later when I got off the bus in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains.
Now understand, the Rockies aren't like other mountains...there are no rolling hills that gradually increase in elevation. We have the foothills...one minute you're flat, the next you're looking up a sidewalk that goes at 90 degrees straight up! "Oh my God!" It was all I could get out, and 15 minutes and 3/4 of a block later, I couldn't even manage that!
At that moment, the very moment I had decided to stop and sleep right there on the sidewalk for the night, the next miracle of the day happened. A car pulled to the curb and the man inside asked if I was going up the hill, eyeing my luggage dubiously. I told him yeas, and he asked if I would like a ride. Now several things went through my mind...it was only 3 more blocks straight uphill, he might be a serial killer, Mom always said say no. I gave it exactly 1 seconds thought, told him yes and sank into the front seat! This wonderful man put my bags in the car, drove me right to the door and took them all out for me! I would have kissed him, but I think the weeping embarrassed him enough!
And my last miracle? My dear friend came home from her job and said she had talked to her employer about me and they wanted to hire me! In one minute, she erased 9 months of frustration and fear! It isn't a sure thing...I have to fill out the application and talk to them, but it's greenhouse work, which I'm familiar with and love, and they seem very excited that I would work the entire season. Imagine! Getting paid to play in the dirt and plant flowers! Heaven!
That has been my day of miracles! Of unexpected kindness from strangers...of a lesson in gratefulness taught by a child...of the miraculous offer of a job that came out of now where!
And so I sit here now, warm and safe, and think of my two children...my two beautiful grown children. On the computer I pull up pictures of my grandsons and study the perfect, intelligent little faces smiling at me, first one then the other. I'm going to bed now, in the soft bed my friend has offered, knowing that tomorrow, I have a job that will make me feel useful and human again.
Happiness is where you find it...and it's everywhere.
Monday, April 6, 2009
And so, why do I care?
I have been bugged for months by people, and you know who you are, to start a blog. "You can write. You should put your words "out there". It was the "out there" that always worried me. I wasn't sure where "out there" was, or if I wanted my words, my thoughts, my feelings wherever it was!
I have written my whole life...mostly to myself, because there, there was no lying, no compromise. I said exactly what I thought/felt/meant at that moment with no fear of recrimination or blame. I knew no one else would ever read it, so I could be absolutely honest. Obviously, the thought that my words/thoughts/feelings were being immediately sent to anyone with access to a computer posed a serious worry, on two fronts.
One, what if someone I knew saw it and didn't like what I said? Was offended? Was hurt? The other, finding myself writing an "edited" version of what I wanted to say to keep #1 from happening. Can't say right this moment which one unnerved me more!
Even in my novels, I wrote "honestly"...not ever believing anyone else would see it, and writing "in the moment". I don't believe anyone who knows me would ever believe I had those thoughts, feelings in me...can't blame them! I've spent a lifetime NOT putting that "me" out there! My writing has always been one of the few things I considered "mine"!
So you can see my dilemma. The "blog" is new to me...it feels like a cross between a journal and a chat room...trying to connect by being who you are, while watching every word you say for fear of offending, which I'm pretty sure has nothing to do with who we really are!
So. I have entered this new realm, tho I still find myself "editing" what I say here...wondering if it's "good" enough, or "witty" enough. And finally deciding that, to anyone who reads, or follows this or whatever they call it, it will just have to "be enough". For me, it's enough that I put it "out there".
Write on!
I have written my whole life...mostly to myself, because there, there was no lying, no compromise. I said exactly what I thought/felt/meant at that moment with no fear of recrimination or blame. I knew no one else would ever read it, so I could be absolutely honest. Obviously, the thought that my words/thoughts/feelings were being immediately sent to anyone with access to a computer posed a serious worry, on two fronts.
One, what if someone I knew saw it and didn't like what I said? Was offended? Was hurt? The other, finding myself writing an "edited" version of what I wanted to say to keep #1 from happening. Can't say right this moment which one unnerved me more!
Even in my novels, I wrote "honestly"...not ever believing anyone else would see it, and writing "in the moment". I don't believe anyone who knows me would ever believe I had those thoughts, feelings in me...can't blame them! I've spent a lifetime NOT putting that "me" out there! My writing has always been one of the few things I considered "mine"!
So you can see my dilemma. The "blog" is new to me...it feels like a cross between a journal and a chat room...trying to connect by being who you are, while watching every word you say for fear of offending, which I'm pretty sure has nothing to do with who we really are!
So. I have entered this new realm, tho I still find myself "editing" what I say here...wondering if it's "good" enough, or "witty" enough. And finally deciding that, to anyone who reads, or follows this or whatever they call it, it will just have to "be enough". For me, it's enough that I put it "out there".
Write on!
Friday, April 3, 2009
On death and living...and how we continue to do both
So much has happened in the last month, that between dying (someone else) and trying to live (me), I just haven't had time for this. I've thought about it from time to time...sure I should give tribute to the wonderful friend and gentle soul the world, and I lost last week.
Well, have done as much with the job search thing as I can this week, taken as much help from those who love me as I can stand, and Plurk is down. No time like the present...
Lori left me last Sunday morning. Her sister, who had been there to help me with her the last few days came up and told me at 3:30am that she was gone. I already knew. I felt the warmth of her spirit and the sound of her laughter leave. It stopped briefly in my room in the attic on it's way up, and then was gone on it's laughing journey to a life without the pain and fear she had lived with for so long. I kissed her soul as it left, and then cried because I couldn't go with her. I was so jealous of her!
Her family wasted no time in getting me out of the house, something I had been afraid of, and had been told by them ALL would never happen. Should have listened to my "little voice". It's sarcastic, critical and always puts forth the "worst case" scenario...unfortunately, it's also usually right.
Now, I understand them wanting it to be "just family" at that time. But Lori was gone...where were they when she was still here? Where were they when I was changing her bed...when I was begging her to take "one more sip"...when I cooked for hours to try and make something that smelled good enough that she might eat dinner? Where were they, and why does "being born" qualify you as family, and helping you die, does not?
I know I sound bitter...I am. Not for me..not because they left he homeless in 24 hours, or because I had to take my cat of 10 yrs. to a shelter because the room (my KIDS HAD TO PAY FOR) wouldn't allow him...I'm bitter because behind all of the "family facade, were people who were going through her drawers and cupboards before they had even taken her away!
I watched from upstairs as they took away the body that had housed that wonderful spirit so painfully for so many years, away. I don't think her "family" even noticed.
This has turned into quite the depressing post..didn't mean for it to be. It was supposed to be a testament to Loraine Sweet, to her undying love of life and her family..to her sometimes naughty sense of humor that made her blush...to the wonderful feeling of love and acceptance without judgement I recieved from her. These are the things that I aspire to in my life...to love people when they are mean and hurtful...to understand it's not always aimed at you, but to you, because you should understand. That it should be a compliment when people "let loose" on you, because they trust you enough to understand.
I thank Lori for making me realize how many people I owe an apology to...and so, to my children, to the friends I have & have lost, I apologize. I just didn't understand. Thanks to Lori, now I do, and will change my life accordingly. Can only hope it's not too late.
So, Lori, "God bless, sleep well, and grab the rail."
Well, have done as much with the job search thing as I can this week, taken as much help from those who love me as I can stand, and Plurk is down. No time like the present...
Lori left me last Sunday morning. Her sister, who had been there to help me with her the last few days came up and told me at 3:30am that she was gone. I already knew. I felt the warmth of her spirit and the sound of her laughter leave. It stopped briefly in my room in the attic on it's way up, and then was gone on it's laughing journey to a life without the pain and fear she had lived with for so long. I kissed her soul as it left, and then cried because I couldn't go with her. I was so jealous of her!
Her family wasted no time in getting me out of the house, something I had been afraid of, and had been told by them ALL would never happen. Should have listened to my "little voice". It's sarcastic, critical and always puts forth the "worst case" scenario...unfortunately, it's also usually right.
Now, I understand them wanting it to be "just family" at that time. But Lori was gone...where were they when she was still here? Where were they when I was changing her bed...when I was begging her to take "one more sip"...when I cooked for hours to try and make something that smelled good enough that she might eat dinner? Where were they, and why does "being born" qualify you as family, and helping you die, does not?
I know I sound bitter...I am. Not for me..not because they left he homeless in 24 hours, or because I had to take my cat of 10 yrs. to a shelter because the room (my KIDS HAD TO PAY FOR) wouldn't allow him...I'm bitter because behind all of the "family facade, were people who were going through her drawers and cupboards before they had even taken her away!
I watched from upstairs as they took away the body that had housed that wonderful spirit so painfully for so many years, away. I don't think her "family" even noticed.
This has turned into quite the depressing post..didn't mean for it to be. It was supposed to be a testament to Loraine Sweet, to her undying love of life and her family..to her sometimes naughty sense of humor that made her blush...to the wonderful feeling of love and acceptance without judgement I recieved from her. These are the things that I aspire to in my life...to love people when they are mean and hurtful...to understand it's not always aimed at you, but to you, because you should understand. That it should be a compliment when people "let loose" on you, because they trust you enough to understand.
I thank Lori for making me realize how many people I owe an apology to...and so, to my children, to the friends I have & have lost, I apologize. I just didn't understand. Thanks to Lori, now I do, and will change my life accordingly. Can only hope it's not too late.
So, Lori, "God bless, sleep well, and grab the rail."
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Web-Betty just got a VERY irritated email from me about how the hell to do a new post here! I apologize, especially since she de-plurked about an hour ago, a true sign she really is done for the day.
As I have said, I am brand new to this blog thing. I didn't realize I couldn't post a new post unless I went thru Blogger 1st. Thought I could just go to MY blog, and go from there. I hear all of you "blogladites" out there...I can hear the soft whispers. "How dumb can you be? What a Moron!!" I know! (Craig Furgeson)I'm thinking the same thing!
In defense of ape-like creatures like myself, I DID figure it out, and so here I am with yet another nonsensical musing! Real shame is that I actually had something to say tonight, but between half a bottle of vodka and 2 fu*^ing hours of trying to figure out how to get to a place where I could put it in words, I FORGOT IT ALL!
OK, not all of it. More's the shame. But I got a new follower of this today! I did! In all honesty, it was only because web-betty turned her onto me, but fine! I will take every friend from everywhere I can get!! The only way I get out anymore is thru the prongs on the plug that attach my computer to the world!
To actually know that there is another person, besides my daughter who is reading this, is Nirvana!! I digress.
With all of the wonderful people out there with all of their wonderful words, I am humbled, honored, scared shitless and ashamed to put my words "out there". If I do, unlike any other time in our lives, I am sharing "space" with the Shakespears, and the Hemmingways, and the Gershwins of our time. What gives me that right!
And yet, here I am, believing I have a right to send my words out into the same space they inhabit! Well, their words stay with us. Their words inspire us. Their words move us. But you know what? Every writer from Shakespear to Ira Gershwin to the person who sits and writes in their dining room after the kids are asleep wrote what they wrote because it's what they BELIEVED...what they FELT...at that time! They had to get it out. And the reason we still cling to their words is because they ring true. They were honest. So even tho our words may never be remembered, or move generations, if they are YOUR words, and they are true and honest, there will always be people on this planet who will relate, and know they aren't the only ones who feel like YOU DO!
I have read many ideas on many websites about "how, when, where" you SHOULD write. I say you should only write when you FEEL words. You should NEVER write for anyone but yourself. Unless you want to sell, and make mega bucks! And even the mega bucks writers wrote 1st for themselves! Think about it! Write on!
As I have said, I am brand new to this blog thing. I didn't realize I couldn't post a new post unless I went thru Blogger 1st. Thought I could just go to MY blog, and go from there. I hear all of you "blogladites" out there...I can hear the soft whispers. "How dumb can you be? What a Moron!!" I know! (Craig Furgeson)I'm thinking the same thing!
In defense of ape-like creatures like myself, I DID figure it out, and so here I am with yet another nonsensical musing! Real shame is that I actually had something to say tonight, but between half a bottle of vodka and 2 fu*^ing hours of trying to figure out how to get to a place where I could put it in words, I FORGOT IT ALL!
OK, not all of it. More's the shame. But I got a new follower of this today! I did! In all honesty, it was only because web-betty turned her onto me, but fine! I will take every friend from everywhere I can get!! The only way I get out anymore is thru the prongs on the plug that attach my computer to the world!
To actually know that there is another person, besides my daughter who is reading this, is Nirvana!! I digress.
With all of the wonderful people out there with all of their wonderful words, I am humbled, honored, scared shitless and ashamed to put my words "out there". If I do, unlike any other time in our lives, I am sharing "space" with the Shakespears, and the Hemmingways, and the Gershwins of our time. What gives me that right!
And yet, here I am, believing I have a right to send my words out into the same space they inhabit! Well, their words stay with us. Their words inspire us. Their words move us. But you know what? Every writer from Shakespear to Ira Gershwin to the person who sits and writes in their dining room after the kids are asleep wrote what they wrote because it's what they BELIEVED...what they FELT...at that time! They had to get it out. And the reason we still cling to their words is because they ring true. They were honest. So even tho our words may never be remembered, or move generations, if they are YOUR words, and they are true and honest, there will always be people on this planet who will relate, and know they aren't the only ones who feel like YOU DO!
I have read many ideas on many websites about "how, when, where" you SHOULD write. I say you should only write when you FEEL words. You should NEVER write for anyone but yourself. Unless you want to sell, and make mega bucks! And even the mega bucks writers wrote 1st for themselves! Think about it! Write on!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
