Memories Of The Past, Memories In The Making

I'm eight years old, and it is officially the first day of school. I'm off to First Grade in Mrs. Bartley's class. I'm all ready to go in my white, ruffle-neck dress shirt, my purple overalls with the yellow tulip on the front, and my pigtails upon my head.

Being it's no more than a seven-minute walk to school, and back then, my area was pretty darn safe, my parents started out on the journey to my new school along side me, with Sarah, our Corgi. They stopped at the corner of the next street over from us and let me finish the walk on my own. As a big girl.

I remember vaguely, as I turned my head to see my parents still standing there at the corner, after I crossed the street, then crossed to the opposite corner at the end of the block. They waved to me, my dog looking sad and in wonderment of where her "sister" is going off to without her. My mom, I saw wiping tears from her eyes, trying not to fall apart, as most of us mothers do when their babies start trying out their wings.

After waving good-bye and walking out of their sight, I can only imagine how Mom fell apart, and how Dad had to console her on that "lonely" walk back to the house after I made the rest of my way off to school that beautifully warm and sunny morning.

But that would also be the last time she would ever see me take that "big leap" in growing up. Ever. Because the year before I was to start Junior High/Middle School, my mother had passed away after having suffered from a massive stroke and pneumonia.

Yesterday (Thursday, August 18th) my oldest had her Middle School orientation to take a dry run at finding her classes, knowing how to get in to her locker, meet her teachers and to learn the rules.

She has to get on the bus now, about an hour earlier than before, when she attended Elementary School. And she is fine with that. Because she also now gets out about an hour earlier than her siblings.

As my daughter waited outside at the bus stop (which for her, is now across the street) I had the flashbacks. I saw her as a tiny girl again, just starting Preschool. She and I waited for the bus at the top of the hill near our former home. She was SO excited. And I watched as she clomped up each step with her short, stubby little legs, and her huge backpack on her back, as she boarded the bus. It took all that I had to not just lose it right then and there.

Yesterday, it hit me. Not only am I seeing my little girl, my first born, grow up before my very eyes into what will be a stunningly beautiful young woman, but I am witnessing something my mother never was able to have the chance to, and never will. Not with myself, and not with her grandchildren.

I was VERY close to my oldest daughter's age when I lost my mother. And I am only about eight and a half years younger than my mother's age when she died. It pains me to know that my mother has had to miss out on SO much. My marriage. My kids. How I have grown and matured. My overcoming of many medical obstacles.

While I feel blessed and fortunate to be here to see and experience the wonders of my children as they each make their own headway in the world and leave their own marks on the world, it still saddens me that I didn't get the chance to have my mom see all that I can.

So, I guess in a way, I am living life and experiencing these things for the both of us. And I often times wonder what Mom would say, think or do. What would she say about how my life has turned out? What would she say about the man that I married or how I am raising and rearing my children?

Sadly, those are questions that will forever haunt me and be left unanswered. And to this day, it is still hard for me to come to terms with that fact.

And the Gates Opened and God said "Come in My son".

We all knew that this was coming. For the last six months or so. But after losing other family members in the past that you "prepared" for losing, when the time comes, you are NEVER truly "prepared".

Last night we were told to get to Big Papa if we could because Hospice gave him just hours. So Scott and I placed the kids with some friends of ours and rushed over. He was ashen, pale and gray. His breathing was rattly and hard, thanks to the fluid on his lungs. He was sedated and given pain medications for comfort and so he wouldn't fight himself.

We stayed there a good hour or just a bit longer. All the while talking with Scott's Grandma and his Aunt, who was staying the night. As we left, we told Big Papa we loved him and to just rest and that everything was okay.

After leaving to get the kids, two of our nieces (sisters) apparently arrived not long after us. We missed one another by mere minutes.

We left at about 8:10 last night. Scott got the "call" at about 9:05, about ten minutes after we walked in the door for the night.

He died as the oldest niece was brushing his military-style cut hair. That was something ALL the grandkids and great-grandkids did. He paid them a dollar if they did a "good job", which of course they all did. *hehe*

This past Summer was the last TRUE family reunion with EVERYONE together. This year, it will be drastically different. And more morose and somber as we gather with one less person joining in watching the kids catch lizards and snakes in the backyard, eating up a storm and just having a fun time talking and being together.

*Big Papa with my girls, Skyler and Hayley (oldest of the three kids)*

*Big Papa with my son, Bryce and our oldest niece*

I can only imagine the reception Big Papa received as he entered the Pearly Gates. I know his sister and youngest brother were happy to be reunited with their big brother, as I am certain that it was a welcoming experience to see his parents again.

Big Papa was an extremely hard working man in his time, as he was the manager of a strong insurance company. And he served in the military in his youth. When he met his wife of 62 years, she had three children from a previous marriage. One of them being my Father-In-Law, whom he adopted all three after the couple had married. Then along came four other children that they had after that. So needless to say, he left behind many upon many hearts to grieve his passing. Between their seven children multiple grandchildren, and several great-grandkids and even a great-great-grandchild.

I think that the following song is extremely appropriate to say how I feel about a man that gave me a good taste of what life is like with having a Grandfather in your life, seeing as my granddads were dead before I was born. And thanks to Big Papa and his inclusion of me in to his family as "one of my granddaughters", I can never thank him (or Grandma) enough for the last eleven wonderful years of having a great man in my life such as him...Even if he was a Washington Redskins fan. I looked past that atrocity and still loved him anyways. (=

*I apologize, but VEVO just had to put a freaking commercial in this one..which is inappropriate for a song like this in my opinion.*



Go Rest High On That Mountain lyrics
Songwriters: Gill, Vince;

I know your life on earth was troubled
And only you could know the pain
You weren't afraid to face the Devil
You were no stranger to the rain

Go rest high on that mountain
Son your work on earth is done
Go to Heaven a shoutin'
Love for the Father and the Son

Oh, how we cried the day you left us
We gathered round your grave to grieve
Wish I could see the angels' faces
When they hear your sweet voice sing

So go rest high on that mountain
Son, your work on earth is done
Go to Heaven a shoutin'
Love for the Father and the Son

So go rest high on that mountain
Son, your work on earth is done
Go to Heaven a shoutin'
Love for the Father and the Son

Go to Heaven a shoutin'
Love for the Father and the Son

I'm "Pouring My Heart Out" via Shell

With all that is going on lately, I think it's finally time to sit here and indeed...



Between an "extended" winter break this year for the schools, my kids fighting because of 'cabin' fever, my son having problems as of late, I am shocked that I'm not in the Psych Ward having meds fed to me three times a day.

If you want a better picture of what is happening with my son, then I suggest that you READ THIS.

As for the longer winter break, we are this year (and hopefull JUST this year) on the college schedule as to help with the budgeting, heating costs and other "costs".

But the biggest thing on my plate is the fact that my husband's grandfather has taken a turn for the worse and there is indeed no going back. I'd written about him a good while back, when we thought that the end was imminent. Of course, once more, Big Papa fooled us all. And even then, I shared my fears of when it's REALLY time. But this time, it's different.

Now, Big Papa is in the beginning of Kidney Failure. And he has flat out refused Dialysis. So, no amount of fluid intake will reverse it and once one organ starts the shut-down process, it's not long before other major organs follow.

We'd taken Hayley (who's the oldest at eleven, and knows fully of what's going on) with us to see Papa yesterday. She sat there and answered a couple of questions. As soon as he complimented her on how beautiful she's become as a young lady, she got up and left the room as to not let Big Papa see her cry.

After seeing she was right outside the door, I made the excuse that I wanted the guys (Scott and his granddad) to have some time alone. Which was true to an extent, but more to check on my kid.

I feel like I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place at this point. Mainly with Scott and Hayley, who will be most affected by the loss when Big Papa indeed does finally pass.

Scott's had this man in his life for almost 40 years. Hayley's known him for most of her eleven years. And she knows it's not everyday a kid can say I KNOW my GREAT-Grandparents.

I've got a responsibility ahead of me. One I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. One to be there for my kids, who will at different levels be grieving.

And I've got to be there to "hold up" my husband when this all goes down, knowing he will be taking this loss extremely hard. And knowing he is one of the pallbearers is of no consolidation to me, either.

All the while, I'll be having to deal with my own grief. So, knowing myself, I'll do my best (and more than likely succeed) to hold it all together and keep it all internalized until the primary portion of the storm passes by.

I've always been of the mind set that if I fall apart when everyone else is that's around me, then no one will be of use to anyone. It's kind of like "the blind leading the blind" in other words.

So, deep down, I know what's headed for me, for my family, and for the family as a whole when all is said and done. But I'm scared that when push comes to shove, I won't be who or what I need to be when the need arises.

Media Reaction Over Compassion Regarding Grieving Children

As many of my "older" readers know, my mother passed away when I was twelve years old. She was forty-three years young, but suffered some health problems. In the end, the side effects of a massive stroke took her life.

I'd gone almost daily to either the hospital or to the Rehab Center/Nursing Home to sit with her, talk (really loud seeing as the hearing loss was great and due to the stroke). All the while, I KNEW deep within two things.

One, she was never going to come home the same way again.

Two, she wanted to die. And she WAS dying. Slowly and for the most part, painfully.

No child even remotely fathoms the thought of their parents' mortality. Not for a single second. Especially in early and middle childhood. To them, his or her parents are immortal. They are of Superhero status.

When a young child, at an age of understanding experiences the realities of life and death, usually it is not with the loss of a parent. It is difficult for them. But not totally agonizing.

But I ask you to sit where you are, as you are reading this right now, IMAGINE yourself being a child of twelve years of age.

Now, FEEL the emotions within from realizing that your mother or your father has passed away. You are shell shocked and in complete denial, because parents DON'T die.

Once shock wears off, look at your face when you come to realize that what you were told is in fact true. Suddenly, you crumble in to a heap of longing, despair, unimaginable heart ache and an insurmountable amount of grief as you cry out in longing for your mother or your father to come back. That you want them and you need them, as you BEG for what is true to not be.

That was me. In 1989 on October 29th. Sitting in the living room of the home that I had grown up in. As my father told me, "Missy, remember when I said to 'expect the unexpected' a few weeks ago?", I got hot and flushed in my face, knowing but not wanting to hear the next few words that FOREVER changed my life. "It happened early this morning. Your mom is gone."

All I could do, as people from my neighborhood stood there as a means of comfort was stare at my father, shaking my head and pleading for it to not be true. Finally it hit that what he said was not a lie, no matter how many times I verbally fought it with him.

In the days and weeks that had followed, amidst all the condolences and the "I'm sorry for your loss" people, I wanted nothing to really do with the outside world. I was grieving. Longing for someone that I will never see, speak to, or touch again.

It was a time of my wanting to isolate from the world and the people within. For me and also for my dad, our pain, sorrow and grief were of a private nature.

We needed the time together, as well as alone to deal with our thoughts, our feelings and the realities of what had happened to us.

This is why I am personally quite angry, and tired of how the Media hounds and preys upon children of big name politicos and celebrities in the midst of their loss.

Take for instance, Michael Jackson's children. For WEEKS, those children were followed around, having pictures taken of them, having news cameras in their faces. Even at their father's funeral! Those poor kids could not once get away and grieve and mourn their dad in private.

Now sadly, the media hounds have turned their attention towards the children of Elizabeth Edwards, who had lost her battle with Breast Cancer on Tuesday, surrounded in the PRIVACY of her home with her children (ages five and twelve), as well as former Presidential hopeful and former husband John Edwards, and other close family and friends.

It SHOULD HAVE stayed that way. Especially for those children. No one, no matter if it was a friend or not, should NOT have brought those children's grieving to the media's spotlight.

Depending on the type of service that is held for the late Mrs. Edwards, those poor kids will be forced to fall victim to the Media, having cameras and reporters, and magazine and news paper journalists shoved in their faces. Not once being able to privately hurt and long for their mother.

It will not be an easy road for these kids. It's going to be long, hard and painful. Especially since they are still so young.

I can safely say that even though twenty-one years have passed and life has gone on since my mother's death, at times, it is STILL hard to deal with. Her birthday. Holidays like Christmas, especially since having my own children. Mother's Day.

No child should suffer a loss as great as these kids have. But a child should still be allowed to be a child. Especially during the grieving process, which could take years. They shouldn't have to be the Media's 'Top Story' of the day.

Dec. 1st is World AIDS Day

Will you join me? I urge you, if you are on TWITTER, MySpace, or on FaceBook, to RIGHT CLICK, then copy the picture above of the Red Ribbon and use it as your profile picture for today in support of bringing awareness to AIDS and to support in finding a cure.

My cousin Raymond (who I have blogged about before many moons ago) was a victim of HIV/AIDS. He died when I was fourteen years old (almost TWENTY years ago). I was there, along with my grandmother, his mother, and his sister and her husband as Ray drew on his last breaths.

To see him struggle and fight on that last day was beyond heart breaking. As a "child" to be witness to such a horrific scene, it was unimaginable to see death in it's raw form. And in one of it's worst ways. I held his hand and told him it was okay to let go.

He was more than my cousin. He was my "brother". He loved me as if I was almost his. We went places all the time together. Hung out listening to Madonna and Prince. We watched movies.

And I even ate off his fork and took sips from his glass of drink. And I hugged him and kissed him (on the lips) all of the time.

Unlike his own REAL siblings and mother, I did *not* live in fear of his disease...Or of him. So he was "sick" with HIV/AIDS. He was still a human being. And I treated him the same AFTER he became sick, just as I did BEFORE he started showing the signs of full-blown AIDS.

Yes, Raymond was Gay. All out, too. He had the "walk", the "talk", and the "mannerisms" of a truly "Gay" man. That to me, made him even more lovable. Don't ask me why, because to this day, I can't pinpoint the reason.

When he died, it forever left an aching hole within my heart. I didn't lose my cousin. I lost my brother. And for a "technically" only child, that was a loss almost to great for me to bear.

Sadly at the end, I noticed relief in his mother and sister. And for the wrong reasons. It seemed like they were "relieved" to be rid of the "eye sore" of the family. The "problem child" that supposedly brought shame upon their family name. As well as humiliation. And that in its self SICKENED me.

NO ONE should have to "hide" their disease and live in fear of those that are SUPPOSED TO love them UNCONDITIONALLY, no matter HOW the disease was spread to them, be it through unprotected sex, an open wound, or tainted bags of blood from a donation.

I'm a straight, married mother of three beautiful children. I could be in a serious car accident today and require a blood transfusion. And it could POSSIBLY be tainted with the HIV/AIDS infection. Yes, screening has gotten much better since their testing abilities of the 1980's. But science and medicine are NOT perfect and could miss that one bag of blood.

A friend and I could both get cut and they accidentally taint my blood with the infection.

If I contracted AIDS, how would YOU view me? Would I be a Leper? Would you (especially if you don't know me from Eve) ASSUME that I am in a homosexual (Lesbian) relationship?

Or would you extend your hand and your heart to me and my family? Would you shake my hand and hug me? Maybe even playfully take a sip from my glass.

What would you do? After all, those with HIV/AIDS have a right to be treated as human beings, too.