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

Arizona Congresswoman Gabby Giffords

Today, a tragedy had struck in Arizona. Arizona Congresswoman Gabby Giffords, along with 17 other people have been shot. One of them a 9-year-old girl. She died of her injuries, as did Federal Court Judge John Roll, who also was killed in the gun fire.

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/01/09/us/politics/09giffords.html?hp

Giffords was at a Safeway Supermarket, holding a meeting with her constituents in regards to get their opinion on the topics that were at top list for when the House reconvened.

That's when shooter, twenty-two-year-old Jared Lee Loughner opened fire. One of the shots went in to Congresswoman Giffords' head. She was taken to the hospital and went immediately to surgery.

And almost as immediately, the political fighting began.

Now, the leftists are attacking the right. Vise versa. Most (including myself in all honesty) place blame on the Tea-Party and their influencing of "hatred" towards those that are not ultra-conservative like themselves for "turning" people in to killing machines.

Hello, people!! People, everyday citizens of our society (like the INNOCENT girl), as well as well-known politicos (like Judge Roll) are DEAD. And now, all people can do on news boards, FaceBook pages, Twitter tweets and other media-type and social-networks is duke it out with the opposing party?

Classless and tasteless, if you ask me. I can say that in my own mind what I THINK drove this shooter to the breaking point. And that is Illegal Immigration and possibly even the cut backs that are in the news in concern to Death Panels in their state (Medicaid coverage).

But to blame an entire Political Party for what ONE person did? That is just too far fetched and just outlandish.

Instead of fighting amongst yourselves in the Political Ring, why not instead extend your sympathy to the families that have now lost loved ones? And also extend empathy, encouragement and hope to those who are still alive, but are injured and may be fighting for their lives?

Like Giffords, who is out of surgery, in critical, but stable condition.

It's called being a HUMAN BEING, instead of a political fan club member.

Reality Sets In Three Fold For Me As A Mom...In One Morning.

That time for them has finally come to pass. No longer are they small, helpless, needy children. Now they are increasingly independent, strong, knowledgeable 'tweens'.

In one fail swoop, I'm being forced to not only start letting go of one of the three, but TWO of them at one time. And it will only get more difficult to do so as the next few years fly by.

Hayley started walking the five minutes to school last week, but still coming home on the bus. Now, her brother who is seventeen months her junior is starting to walk to school as well. And again, come home on the bus.

Which in turn has forced my (soon to be) six year old to be a "big girl" and ride the school bus on her own. But starting last week, she started riding ONE day a week after school to come home, being that both Hayley and Bryce are now in the after school program of Art Club.

This coming Thursday, Hayley, who is my oldest, will be eleven. Lord how these years have just flown on past. It's been a ride thus far. And with her mature attitude being more of a fourteen year old, her wings are spreading faster than I had hoped.

The week after, Skyler, who is the "baby" of the family will be six! So, soon, she will no longer officially be a "baby" of sorts to the world. She will no longer be a toddler or a preschooler. She will be an adolescent. Again, I am at a loss of where all the years have gone. Like a wind, they blew past with nary a care of what a mother's heart feels.

When I watched (through the closed front door's glass) Hayley and Bryce cross the street and head down the block towards school, I had them flash in my head as they were when they were little. I saw them as they used to be. Suddenly, I got back in to the reality of what I was witnessing, and for a brief moment, longed for those days once more.

Then, watching Skyler cross from about half way at the bus stop on her own (I walked her half way in to the street) to get on to it alone for the first time, my heart sank and I had to fight my wanting to walk her the rest of the way, it hurt to know that she too has stepped one closer away from me and becoming her own individual.

In these two brief moments of one morning, I wished to God I could stop time. Just for a few seconds. I wanted to turn back the clock to the times where they inherently needed me to the fullest extent. I have witnessed this morning the anxiety of a mother "losing" their children to the world. All at once. Each one making their own individual paths in the world.

How many ways can a mother's heart ache and break? Many. Including watching them all take their own paths in society and forming their own identities.

It's one thing to watch them do this one at a time. But to see all three of your children do this on different levels at once is completely overwhelming. Gone are the days of cooing, learning to walk and talk, being dependent even on me for the simplest of things and asking silly questions such as why the sky is one color and the ground another.

These are the days where you are extremely proud of who you are raising your children to be. But it sucks also, because in the same thought, you wish you could do it all over again with them and keep time as it is.

I won't remember for a day,or for the month.This 'rememberance' will be with me until I die.

See the ribbon above? I have chosen personally to not only remember this important day of awareness on just October fifteenth of every year. But, to remember it for the entire month of October.

Nor will I ever be allowed to forget for the rest of my days.

October fifteenth is known nationally (in the USA) as "Pregnancy And Infant Loss Remembrance Day". And for many mothers such as myself, as well as the millions around the world, we will never be able to forget our babies. Some of us were lucky enough to hold them for a few hours, a few days, or a few months. Then again, some of us (such is my case) never got to hold, touch or even see our baby.

On Halloween Day of 2003, I was in the sixteenth week of pregnancy. All was going fine (as so I thought, seeing as I had no complications to that point, and it was my third pregnancy). That day, I was scheduled for a vaginal ultrasound being I was a high-risk pregnancy for health reasons.

I knew, the second I had seen the little peanut on the screen, something was very off. After having so many ultrasounds in the past, I knew what to look for. And the one thing that none of us had seen was the heart fluttering.

After the doctor's tone changed to the ever-so-famous "cautiously optimistic" tone, I knew that it was confirming what I already knew thanks to my "Mommy gut".

To get a better look and to indeed confirm what all of us already knew, I got placed on the big ultrasound. And then and there, I had the worst nightmare for a pregnant mother to go through. My baby was dead.

After getting the shocking news, my mother-in-law called my husband to get to the doctor's office. All he knew was that something was wrong with the baby. After we both got over the shock of all that happened, I called where we both worked at the time and let them know. For some stupid reason I kept on apologizing for not making it back to work from my extended lunch time.

A few days later, seeing as the baby did not miscarry on it's own, I was forced to have a D & C (Dilation and Curettage) to help expel my twelve to fourteen-week-old baby. I was nearing toxic levels in my system from the baby being dead inside for up to approximately four weeks. It was the worst and the most horrific surgerical procedure that I have ever had to endure.

All I knew was this was NOT supposed to be happening. I was not to be having to abort my baby. I was supposed to be having a normal pregnancy and readying for the new addition to our hearts. And instead, I was being forced to let him or her go.

To this day, especially when Halloween Day is upon us, and when November third (the day that my baby was "officially" gone from me), I still grieve. And I often wonder what would have become of our Michael Gregory, if he had survived.

Sure, some will read this and say to themselves that I need to "get over it already". But they cannot EVER know the lasting pain and the hole that is forever etched in to your heart and in to your soul from a loss as deeply profound as losing your baby (or a child in general).

I may not have ever been able to have held and caressed my child in my arms. But he is forever within a special place of my heart, and is deep within my soul, right along with his two sisters and his brother. For they too had lost out on having another brother to love.

So Many Thoughts Come to Mind...Ponderings On a Rainy Day.

In one month and two days from today, it will be a milestone. And a lot of different meanings.

For one, my childhood friend, Lisa's birthday is on October 29th. We just recently reconnected, thanks to FaceBook, after almost 25 years of dropping off the earth to one another. Then, soon followed by her three sisters, Neva, Dana and Rena.

Then, add in the fact that it will be 21 years since my mother's passing. Over the years it has gotten much better to take in and deal with. I know she will always be with me in my heart and in my memories (what few I have left of her and our time together).

The biggest milestone to come on October 29th though is...

It will be my one-year anniversary since my Cornea Transplant. While I'm happy to have the sight that I DO have in it now, compared to before the surgery (and the fact that I have a cornea), it will also be a day of mourning.

Yes, we recipients DO mourn the passing of those which have given us our second chances. We never (in most cases) were able to meet them in life. And a rare few of us get to meet the families that are mourning the loss of their loved one that donated to us. But we are very thankful and grateful, none the less. And it hurts us to know that another family is out there, somewhere, hurting and are not able to have the time with their family any longer, as we recipients share in the joys, trials and tribulations of our families.

It's on days like this, where it's damp, chilly and rainy, that I sit and wonder. What if my mother were still alive? How would she have felt of my moving across to the other side of the states? How would she think of my husband? What nicknames would she have given her grandchildren?...Would I have still had that stupid trache until I turned 18?

I also wonder who my donor was. What is their gender? How old were they? What were their likes and dislikes? Was their family life filled with love and laughter?

So many thoughts to ponder as I sit here, sipping my coffee and listening to the stillness of the house, as the rain beats down and the cars are passing by on slick roads.

9/11/2001...We remember. In songs and pictures.

Like Pearl Harbor, September 11, 2001, also known as 9/11, has gone down in infamy.

Feel free to watch the following videos. I have no words, really for today, being that I had said all that I could the other day ABOUT 9-11.

I'm asking you, my readers, that if you wish to comment on this post, that you DO NOT make comments or start debates in regards to *politics*, *conspiracy theories*, or make any *anti-religion* (namely Islam/Muslim) remarks.

Thank you for respecting my blog, this post, and this day's meaning by refraining from the above.