Grateful Heart Amongst Healing People

If you are one who is grieving right now, my one piece of advice is to surround yourself with healing people.  Healing people are those who listen without judgement, they are empathetic without trying to cure you, and ultimately they listen completely without talking and they give of themselves.  There are people in my life who do just that, and I want to say "thank you".  Thank you for understanding, thank you for your patience, and thank you for allowing me to grieve.  There are no rules, no certain way, but complete healing people are listeners with a sincere heart, a giver of hugs, and a lender of their loving thoughts without telling me what to do.  I know I will not feel this way forever; feeling the sadness and loss of my sister.  One day joy will reign prevalent in my heart, but for now it's a distant word in my vocabulary.  That doesn't mean I am not thankful for the blessings that surround me.......my family, my friends, my health and my faith.   Love from my husband and children sustains me right now as I try to overcome the sadness in my heart.  How can one person impact another so much?  She did mine, my sister, and I am trying to see the world now with different eyes, with a new canvas if you will.  I feel as though my vision is blinded, and I am trying to imagine the world with love, hope and joy.  

Some days I live.......I truly live feeling her presence and constant guidance beside me.  Some days a smile will find its way upon my face.  I will think of her and smile, and there aren't any set times or reasons.  Perhaps when I'm choosing an item at the store, hearing a familiar song, eating a lucious dinner or watching her daughter, Maria, play as Chrissy did when she was that age.  Other days are very difficult, feeling her spirit, trying to find my path, living this new way, watching her children trying to find their way as well.  Some days when I see her children ache for her presence, then I'm at a loss as to what this is all about.  I say in my journaling that when a deep loss is experienced, it is felt strongly and one never thinks it will go away.  It doesn't truly ever go away; it's always a part of our new life, whatever transformations takes place, but the intensity I know will change, and you learn to live along with it.  I know that through my own parents' deaths, and I am now learning to live with it through my own sister's death.  My sister will always be there for me, but now in a new way, and I suppose those who knew her well...feel it, too.  As each day ends and another one begins, I look for strength to make my life better......to make myself a better person.  Sometimes the healing people are my driving force and for that I am grateful.  They ask questions and listen, they truly hear my cries, they give support through kind emails and letters without expecting a response, and they never question where I am in this journey.....always offering support in thought, words or deeds .  Their support is also shown in their continuous efforts such as recognizing the Komen Race, participating in the Relays for Life or making donations in memory of my sister to their favorite charities along with the trails of notes, cards, emails and asking a genuine "how are you?"  You healing people, my healing souls, you give me fortitude, always letting me know that you are there, thinking about my family.  Those of you who offer to pick up my sister's children, sending your meals, lending your time and offering a helping hand..........you are the ones.  As my mom used to say many times,  "Your reward will be in heaven." 

I believe this question will be asked of us in the world that lies beyond this, "What did you do for another and what  truly lies in your heart?"  Our God knows what is in your heart, each and every one of you.  Thank you for your constant efforts in making the life of another person or persons your priority, when in a world of craziness, you are taking  the time.  Chrissy was humbled by the support given to her and her family during her ailing days.  In her final weeks of breathing life, she wanted me to extend to all her upmost gratitude.  She physically wasn't capable, but she tried to care for her home, her children, her husband.  There were times she didn't want to accept the outpouring of devotion, as she wanted to do it herself.  As most of us realize, it is much easier to give than to receive, but in accepting the help, I believe she gave to all of us maturity in our own soul's journey.   Peace, hope and gratefulness.......from one heart to our special healing people who  rise up in giving. 

When you have learned how to decide with God, all decisions become as easy and as right as breathing. There is no effort, and you will be led as gently as if you were being carried down a quiet path in summer.  In choosing to give of ourselves, we decide with God.

In My Dreams

Dreams are messages that either move the heart or at times frighten and surprise us.  Many a mornings I look over at Marty and say, "Where the heck did that dream come from????"   On most mornings I wake up not remembering anything.  I've read a few books lately by those who have lost their loved ones in death, and all of them say that it took a long time before they dreamt of their loved ones....sometimes months and even years.  There are no clear reasons why this happens.  Perhaps our emotions shut down and somehow protect us from the deep sadness, allowing our hearts to forget.  Some say the trauma of the illness, the death blocks anything about our loved one to enter into our hearts at night.  Some theories are that our emotions are so shocked by death that it blocks that spiritual energy.....even when our loved ones are trying to contact us through our dreams.  It sounds unbelievable, but I have no doubt that my loved ones have shown up at some time or other trying to talk with me.  I wish it happened more frequently, but don't we always wish there would be more time with them them?  I think we're always asking for more time....whether it's being here with us or being present in our  in our dreams.   Maybe we dream about them more than we can remember.

In my life's experiences, I have found it frustrating not to have more visits in my dreams by those that have died, especially mom, dad, grandma and now Chrissy.  Strangely, what seems prevalent in my dreams is finding that the deceased member doesn't see themselves as deceased.  We miss them, we mourn for them and we long for their presence; yet, it in my dreams, they appear to behave very casual.....like nothing ever happened.  They don't see themselves as dead.  Still, perhaps they know that they are always by our sides; yet, we loose sight of that or feel too much grief to recognize that.  If we believe in what our faith tells us, I suppose there is some truth to that.  I'm convinced there is no time in the world beyond ours.  Every hour without Chrissy here on earth seems like a day to me.   In my thoughts, I tell myself that I've lost her in the physical sense, why can't she materialize in my dreams?  I  relax, pray intently, and still, she doesn't surface.  How is it that people I care about so much don't enter my dreams as much as I would like them?   I don't understand the logic and probably never will, and in this grief it saddens me even more.  The dream factor is a mystery to me as are so many other occurences in life. 

My first recollection of mom turning up in my dreams happened many months, perhaps even a year after her death..  There was a time in my life when I was really concerned about my finances, my personal life......well, everything seemed so unclear and foggy.  One minute she's here and the next she's gone, and we were trying to live a new way yet again.   My dream began by seeing loaves of bread sprawled all over this room.  Every inch of space was covered with fresh loaves of bakery bread.  I looked across the room and there sat my mom, acting like I just saw her an hour ago.  She casually smiled and said, "Barbie, everything will be okay......everything will be okay."   We hugged, she smiled and then disappeared.  I woke up feeling that all would be okay.  From that moment on......I took baby steps, still uncertain but not afraid anymore to move, to live, to explore this world we call life.  

These days as I take baby steps to find my new way, I hope and pray for Chrissy to appear in my dreams.  There was a short dream during the week of her death, but it was unsettling, and since then I hadn't seen her  until recently; the night Frankie spent the night.  It's been about seven months since her death, and she finally decided to show up.   Every night I ask and pray for her to appear in my dreams.....hoping, wishing.......one more real conversation with her.  On this particular night, it wasn't any different than any other night, except that I was looking over Frankie as he dosed off to sleep.   Perhaps it was  little Frankie bringing his mama back for me......I couldn't say....only a thought.  All in this life is a mystery to me, but on this night, she came.   In this dream, I was the one who was getting some sort of medicine intravenously while sitting in a hospital chair.  As I looked at the nurse who was standing in front of me; there she was standing beside the nurse.....Chrissy........smiling at me with a radiance about her......appearing like the size of an extra large doll.  She looked at me like she hadn't been gone that long.....as if I shouldn't be missing her.  It was almost as if she didn't like the attention I was giving her.  On most occasions when one of us would attend social events or be taking a trip, we would bite at the bullet waiting for the details afterwards.  I found myself in this dream yelling the questions,  "Oh my gosh, is that you?  Is that really you??  What is it like???   What happened to you???  Did you meet God?????  I want to know the details.....what happened to you?"   I couldn't get the questions out quick enough to her when I paused,  looked at her, and she beamed from ear to ear without saying anything.  She glanced at me like I was insane and said, "It's all good, Barbie.  It's great, it's all good.  You can't even imagine."   Then I felt as if she was trying to leave the room without me seeing her.....without me missing her.......but my last vision was of her smiling at me.  I woke up in the middle of the night with a smile on my face, and I found myself saying , "Thank you, thats all I needed."

Dreams are a strange phenomenon, aren't they?  It was shortly after my dad's death when we received a phone call from our family friend/relative type:  Betty Pavilege.   Betty was related through marriage on my dad's side of the family, and always meant a great deal to us.  She wasn't related by blood, but she was related in the spirit, and we would see her at Thanksgivings and Easters.  She had sort of a peaceful, clairvoyant presence, a spiritual soul who was very special to our family.  One day I arrived home to hear a message of a dream that Betty had, and she was so lovely to share it on our answering machine.  She'll never know what that meant to me and to my family that particular day.  She went on to say that our dad appeared to her in a dream. She hadn't dreamt of him ever until this day.  Strangely enough, he stood before her drinking a glass of milk.  It seemed odd to her that he would be doing that.  He was smiling and continued drinking a glass of milk, and she felt him saying to her that he was doing okay.  She didn't know why he was standing there and drinking.....milk....smiling and telling her he was doing great?   Why was he standing there drinking milk?  She said it was so vivid and perplexing that she felt a strong urge to share that with us......for whatever reason she knew it was important to call us and share that strange detail in her dream.  Never before have I known Betty to call our house.  What most people didn't know about my dad was that he had an ulcer and would often drink milk to ease the pain.  I don't think he drank milk anywhere else but at home.  He didn't like people knowing his shortcomings, and I suppose in his mind, having an ulcer showed a shortcoming.......a weakness.  She wasn't aware that he had an ulcer,  but she insisted that she felt my dad urging her to contact us and relay that he was doing well.

Whether it be with age or with this grief, I rarely remember my dreams anymore.  When I do remember them, they don't  make any sense.  On that night when I dreamt of her; it made sense.  It gave me hope and peace......if only for the next day or two......and then I pray for another visit from her or mom or dad.  We always want more, don't we?  Always wanting more time......more hope.....more dreams of her.......more dreams of all my loved ones.  Anyone who misses their cherished ones to the depths of their being knows what that dream meant to me.  It will not change the emptiness I feel......nor fill the hollowness that sleeps in the shadows of my heart, but that dream gave me new hope.  Hoping that she is happy, fulfilled, elated and awaiting for the day when we will meet again.  That was a night I will remember for days, months and even years.  I will wait for her to appear again......if only in my dreams.

"Good things come to those who wait"

How to Eat an Elephant

I read a brief story about a woman, Beverly Johnson, who was the first woman to reach the peak of El Capitan in Yosemite National Park, California.  It took her 10 days, with very little sleep, struggling, uncertainty ahead, alone, except for one thing......she knew God was by her side.  When asked how she did it, she said,  "It was like eating an elephant; I did it one bite at a time."   She didn't focus on the what if or what will I do or what will happen when.......she focused on each step in her climb until she reached her goal.

We all have a certain climb in our life.  Even Chrissy struggled in her climb, but what I admired most was watching her continue on no matter what she had to deal with in this cancer climb.  She cried, she screamed, she questioned......she did all that, but she never stopped.  She lived her life with clarity and didn't live a lie as so many often do.  All of us have skeletons in the closet and sometimes some of us spend a lifetime trying to conquer them.  Some have chosen to cover them up or avoid them, thinking it will go away because it's too painful.  Perhaps for some, those skeletons keep us from attaining certain goals in our life.  I've known some who totally avoid them, and they deal with the negativities that manifest into their own personal lives.  It takes hold of them like a prisoner.  Some are living a lie, pretending, because facing their past choices or living the present choices are too painful to escape.  I liked this story of Beverly who faced an enormous task, but she did it one step at a time knowing ultimately that she could only do it with His help.  It's easy to forget God in the pain and turmoil because sometimes life is so intense.   How can God be by our side when I feel so bad or have to deal with these problems?   I've even thought this myself, but then I prefer to know that He is by my side rather than not.  For me, it makes life more bearable than if I thought I was doing it alone.  That elephant could be anything from an alcohol or drug addiction, a spiritual void, a personal relationship, your family, a test, a task, a character flaw, your job, a death, your focus.  Whatever that elephant is, I think what's important is that we face it one step at a time.  That doesn't mean we can't cry, grieve or feel the emotions during our climb.  As long as we don't avoid it or let it consume our lives to the point where the rest of our life is in disarray.  The point is to deal with the elephant rather than try to stuff it away.....you can't.....it will burst at some point.  I've known some who have had all the best in life materially.......the perfect family, the job, the house, the money, the trips, the best schools, the religion halo only to have their life shatter as drugs, alcohol, the infidelity, the lie or anger consume their lives.   We think as humans we aren't allowed to falter, but through my own life experiences I have seen more of what others do not.  Beyond the suffering that is; I have seen beauty, purpose and flashes of God that others never see .  Perhaps through death, no matter how painful, the ultimate blessing is to understand more, live better, be more open about what I see and experience through life's painful moments.  From the outside, it might seem that those who are grieving are missing out, and sometimes that may be the case, but mostly those who are grieving are learning, understanding, changing, seeing more than most know or can even comprehend.  I've known some who have lost a child through death, and in my book, there are no rules, their journey is their own and should be given room to do so, without question.  In all loss, it is that person's journey alone, and each has their own way.  I believe we are all children of God, living here to learn, grow, understand and return.........return to where we began.  We never die in spirit, that energy is always there, but some of us are living in death even as our bodies still breathe.  That my friends is the ultimate death, and a complete tragedy.  It is our responsibility  to recognize if it is happening in ourselves,  for our own spritiual growth.  One bite at a time; we need to see it, take hold of it, stop the lie if need be, and live life one step at a time knowing that God is by our side.

"It is better to take refuge in the Lord than to trust in man"
    -Psalm 118:8

Who is That?

When we were kids, mom seemed to run into most anybody when we were out and about running errands. Whether it was someone from church, our school, her high school days or possibly someone from our extended family; we always seemed to meet a familiar face.  Often times as they would leave after talking for awhile, I would ask, "Who is that?"  She would give me the run down of how she knew them.   I'll never forget that infamous statement made by many of those familiar faces, pointing to me as they would say,  "That's Betty Lou"......which by the way was my mom's name growing up.  I took it as a compliment because to me my mom was beautiful.......more beautiful than any mom I knew.  She was the best and no other mom could hold a candle to her.  While we were growing up, she always seemed so put together when it came to her appearance...makeup just right, nails glued and painted, her Este Lauder perfume permeated the air and her bluish, sometimes green-toned eyes sparkled.  Still, as a child, I was confused when someone would compare me to mom.  We didn't seem anything alike.  Our eyes seemed different, our hair length was just the opposite, mom was outgoing and I felt so shy and awkward, and she was just great!   It wasn't until I was into my later teens, looking at old photographs, that I noticed a photo that looked like me as a child, but the quality of the paper was much older, way before my time.  It was a professional photo of my mom, probably around the age of five or six,  and I saw me in her.  It was like an "aha" moment when I finally saw the resemblence of me and my mom like so many old friends and family had mentioned before as I was growing up.

When Chrissy was nearing her time, to go beyond this earthly world, I had hoped she would see mom in her room, but while I was in the room, it never seemed to happen....atleast not in the way I had expected.  Chrissy was having difficulty speaking during her last weeks due to the medications and her disease.  The disease was taking its toll on her body as cancer often does as the body is slowly winding down.   Perhaps she did see my mom but wasn't able to verbalize it.  I believe, though, that there were others or another in the room for sure.  One particular morning, as I was sitting on her bed, only the nurse's aide walked near us when Chrissy whispered to me, "Who is that?"  At first I thought she meant the nurse's aide, and I responded, "That's Cheryl."  She replied, "No, not her, that other person standing over there, who is that?"  As she whispered to me and looked beyond Cheryl, she pointed to her own eye, as if the person she was speaking of, standing in the room had something noticeable about her/his eye(s).  I asked what this person looked like and all Chrissy did was point to her own eyes in a somewhat suspicious  way.  At that moment, words escaped me, because if I mentioned angels, then perhaps that would scare her.....thinking that angel was coming to take her.  Another thought was that the medication was working over-time on her, invading suspicious visions into her brain.  As I sat there a few moments longer, I felt it could have been our mom.  "I think it's mom looking over you," I answered, with a slight crack in my voice.  It had been a long time since Chrissy and I had physically seen her, and much of Chrissy's memory was seeing my mother's ailing body.  The sick years had a taken a toll on my mom's body along with her sparkling eyes during Chrissy's childhood.  Maybe those tired eyes of my mom's that Chrissy was used to seeing while she was alive were now shining brightly on that morning, so bright, that all Chrissy could mimic were her eyes.  She remained silent and continued to stare for a few minutes in that direction.  I can't say for sure who that was that she saw on that morning, but without any hesitation, I believe it was either my mom or one of her angels looking upon her.  I could feel the energy in the room many times, not only on that day, but many times during her illness.   We may wonder who that could have been, and I can only say it was love, whether from someone she once knew or someone who has always known her......it was love.

"Love one another as I have loved you"

Fourth of July

Bombs bursting, firecrackers popping, bottle rockets whizzing, kids screaming, adults barbecuing and drinking fun beverages; those are my memories of all our July Fourths.  As far back as I can remember, dad was a fan of the fireworks, and we so enjoyed our big trip to Alton, running into the big red and white tent.  We bought our smoke bombs, firecrackers, sparklers and of course the stinky black-smoked snakes.  I don't know if it was the actual visions of seeing them go off or was it the one time of year we were allowed to use a lighter or a punk to ignite our fireworks.  Either way, it was a childhood delight in the Meyer home and it became a traditon for many July Fourths to follow.  Some were injured over the years as I recall people flying out of their lawn chairs as a roaming candle turned on its destination.  Lots of screaming but ultimately, we would laugh and bawl out the culprits who were careless.  Our husbands adore the thrill of the firecrackers and bottle rockets as well.  The sisters love the enormity of all the tastes of foods and the celebrations that surround this summer event.  One year, possibly the same year my dad had died, we had a big blow out of a celebration on the Fourth.  For those that grieve, sometimes being surrounded by a crowd distracts you from the one missing.....the new ways that follow, along with saying goodbye to the old traditions and  reluctantly embracing the new ones.   Sometimes the loud noises of the crowds pull you away from that emptiness you feel.  On the other hand, some of us tend to enjoy the silence still.  Perhaps some may find that strange, but in the silence I feel Chrissy and my parents around me along with all my other loved ones who have passed on to their new life.  In crowds of people, I tend to lose their faces; there is an awkward silence for me even in the noise; like feeling that you have forgotten something when you leave the house.  There's no easy way to live this life; you just have live it and hope for the best.  I find myself looking above me and searching for some sign.  Maybe that sign is right in front of me and I overlook it or perhaps the sign isn't there at all, but I find myself always looking and asking, "Where are you?"

One particular Fourth of July, the July before Chrissy was diagnosed her first time around in August of 2007 with breast cancer, I remember being at Cassie's house, along with the other couples in the family, and we would often lead our conversations to "what if's".  What if you won a million dollars, what would you do first?   What if you had one wish, what would it be?   On this occasion, sitting on Cassie and Kyle's back patio, awaiting the start of the fireworks, I remember the question being asked,  "What if your spouse dies, would you still visit the family functions of your inlaws and would you remarry?"   We all had our answers, and we would answer for other people, knowing their personalities.  Some of our responses stunned other family members, and we chuckled at each others' expressions and some were even appauled that we would consider not visiting the inlaws.  It's ironic that shortly after, only a month and a half after that event that our world was rocked with the news of Chrissy's breast cancer.  We found ourselves asking how could this happen to one so young, with young children and with so much promise and possibility.  Never would I have thought this would have been Chrissy's outcome......never.  Never would I have imagined her not being here in the physical sense, missing all of our traditions and gatherings.  I know she's here, but in a different way, and that is difficult to bear for those of us that breathe the air.  Don't get me wrong, all of us were shocked and frightened by her original diagnosis, but we held onto hope; hope that this would pass, and we would all laugh about it later, only to come up with more "what ifs."  Our what if questions are silly and don't even make sense sometimes, but it would make us laugh and we would discuss as families often do.  It's really ironic discussing that question only a few years ago because when it really happens, your reaction isn't what you thought it would be. I have decided that it is better to know when your time is coming because you can have that opportunity to say what you want and have no regrets......the opportunity is there for us to take.  Of course, we never truly know because we are not in control of our destiny......God is......but somehow having a vision of what might be gives us a choice.  It gives a choice to say, to act to change our hearts if need be.

Fourth of July was also supposed to be the due date to my second son, Luke, back in 2003.  Needless to say, he was born on July 1st, but he still thinks these fireworks are meant for him.  I wonder if the nieces and nephews will have "what if" questions as they grow up, too?  I'm sure they will, but the what ifs will be about Aunt Chrissy.  They already are.....each day.....as we live new adventures and holidays without her, my children ask what if questions.  Who am I kidding?  I ask the what if questions, too.  What would Aunt Chrissy think of this?  Do you think she sees us?  Mommy, what if you get sick like Aunt Chrissy, will you die?   Some of these what if questions leave me stumped because none of us will ever know all of the answers, and my children have learned this, too.  Sometimes I tell them that I don't know.  I tell them we will live our best and pray to God that He will show us the way, and someday.....I know someday, we will see her, hug her and celebrate together in heaven .  In the meantime, we live these days, we try our best, we celebrate when we can and we continue to hope.  Hope is all we have to live this day.....this 4th of July.  May you and yours find hope, joy and inner peace on this July 4th of 2010.

"Never turn your back on someone holding a lit bottle rocket"

Peach Trees and Aunt Marie

While eating my juicy peach last night, it reminded me of a woman I loved and respected as a child, admired as a teen and honored as an adult as I write about one of my most cherished aunts, my Aunt Marie.  She was a selfless soul, admired and loved by all in our family.  She was the sister to my grandma on mom's side of the family.  A few peach trees were scattered in her side yard, sap running along the bark, and many a dreams have crept into my sleep with visions of her house. Seeing her canning peaches, and ohhhh, did they taste so good.....so sweet, that with each bite you wanted to take yet another and then some more.  Aunt Marie had that grandma-type smile, always busy in the kitchen or around the house, never raising her voice, but sometimes shooting us a look when we misbehaved.  Delightful  memories of parties past....Christmas time and January birthdays.  There was also an ominous feeling lurking about her home.  Perhaps the spirits of her family, our family, a house where generations lived and slept, still hovered about the place.  Either way, I loved spending time there but never alone.  Chrissy and I both agreed it was not a good idea to be in that house alone, but with Aunt Marie's gentle smile there, we were treated like queens and adventure was around every nook and cranny and we felt comfortable.  One of the mysteries that walked in that house was my great uncle, Frank, aka: Toots, an Elmer Fudd looking character, who sort of gave us the willies.  We've heard stories that he was an enlisted man and did work in the post office for a brief time, but we may never know the total truth about that one.  There's many a tale to be told about this man who wore "open toed" shoes, unlike the ones we're familiar with, these shoes had the tops literally cut out, he had a thumb the width of a walnut shell, he chewed tobacco and spit it in the same HiC can for all of my early years spent there.  He also played the game of solitaire at 4:30 every morning, and he talked sort of like the renound character voice of Walter Brennan.   His story is a separate entry on another day, and Chrissy and I used to laugh hysterically at his off the wall behavior.

Never once would you hear our Aunt Marie complain, not even when we trashed her house during Christmas holidays and January birthdays.  She intrigued me when I was young as she appeared as an ordinary thin, elderly nice lady with white, wavy hair which was sort of combed and/or pinned towards the back of her head.  Some of her holiday food traditions was making Rice Krispy Treats, sugared dates and Brach's Chocolate Stars.  I remember sitting on her bed as she applied her makeup simply; yet, it was a face powder in a white and yellow box, that yelled out "mature woman".  She usually had an apron tied around her waiste, except when she was socializing or going to church.  She did her laundry til the day she died with a self-rolling old fashioned washing machine, and she did not dry her clothes in an electric clothes dryer; rather, she hung out her laundry to dry in the outside weathering elements.  Aunt Marie was a woman to be admired; yet, there was so little I really knew about her.  I wish I would have asked more questions, but I was of an age when I was more self-centered, and I suppose I thought she would always be around.  She was a permanent figure in our family whom we thought life's brutal hand would never touch.  She never married, but her true love was a man named Duke.  We all knew it, but it was never really discussed in those days.  I'm sure there's more to that story that we'll never know, but my version is that she chose to care for her brothers, being the devoted sister rather than make a life of her own.  More than that, though, she cared for generations of children, none of them being her own biological children, but she treated them as such.  Chrissy and I were some of the luckiest of that generation who were put in her care for a sleepover or weekend stay.  We loved to explore her old house in Baden that held so many mysteries and stories.  It's ancestry goes way back to a time when it was once was a neighborhood grocery store, a confectionary of sorts, where many of that area purchased their daily foods.  So much to tell and not sure where to begin.

Aunt Marie lived in the city of Baden on a street called Harlen or Canaan.  Not sure which one, but both those of those streets ring a bell.  I'm sure some family lived on both of those streets at some time or other.  The street isn't of importance, but how she lived is, because she was a saint in my book.  Her house was modest but clean and every corner held a story, some heard of and some we'll never know.  Chrissy and I used to spend many a nights at her house, it was such a thrill as she would spoil and give into every one of our whims.  Some weekends we would walk to Mount Carmel Church, where my mom, and many aunts and uncles attended themselves as children.  We walked there because Aunt Marie didn't drive a car.  Perhaps my grandparents and their parents attended that church, too, but I'm not sure.  Those are some of the stories I don't know about, and maybe never will.  Where they attended  school and for how long is anyone's guess.  My grandparent's generation was different as we all know.  Most of them didn't attend high school, but they were lucky to finish through the eigth grade in those days as times were different.  Many of them were needed to work and bring income into their larger families.   I don't know where the aunts fell in age, but I'm guessing Aunt Maria may have been older than the other sisters....and there were other brothers, too, besides Frank (aka:  Toots).  I think there were brothers named Jake and a Mickey.  The only memories I have of Jake are these long fingernails while he was alive and seeing his body laid out at the funeral parlor.  That memory is clear as a bell in my mind because he was probably the first dead person I saw  in a funeral home.  To this day,  I  attending funeral parlors still gives me the willies and at times I can hardly catch my breath when stepping into one of those places.  That was a horrible experience as a little girl, and when my time comes, I will choose a memorial of some kind vs the visitation.  Everyone has their own beliefs and traditions, so a funeral parlor will not be in my plans, probably because of my own experiences with some of the family as well as with my dad.  Mickey was a great uncle whom I never met.  Stories were told of his shady demise that probably only a few know of, and those few have died.  He was found dead on railroad tracks.  Some say it was a train that killed him while others have professed he was beaten to death.  Amazing how some skeletons stay in the closet, secrets we'll never know because they weren't talked about back then.   The other siblings that I know of included my grandma, Lou, and great aunts, Helen and Ann.  There could have been more, but I'm not sure.  All I know is that Aunt Marie overshadowed it all because she was a giving, kind soul who never thought about herself.

To this day, peaches remind me of my lovely Aunt Marie and all of her goodness.  The word "witchkong" often came out of her mouth when she couldn't remember a particular word.  You will not find that word in the dictionary, but it was her very own word, and both Chrissy and I would laugh everytime we heard it.  She met her mortality with the beast.....the beast in my mind is the cancer which was embedded in her throat, but she never let the beast diminish her good nature.  It ravished her body as the beast is capable of doing, but it could never destroy her spirit.  She was a religious woman who adored her maker, one who never smoked, would occasionally have an alcoholic beverage socially, enjoyed her simple life, but she lived with a profound glory.....she too had met the beast.   It was on my birthday back in the mid 80's that I was standing near her casket wishing this didn't happen.  There are no rules or "for sures" in this life.  Life isn't always fair or the way it's supposed to be, but she learned to cope with it, and she made a difference in my life.  She lived completely real, and if I recall, I would like to finish up with one of her infamous quotes.  I don't know when or why I heard her say it, but it has stuck in my mind all these years along with her gentle heart, her warm hugs and her loving ways.

"If you can't say something nice about somebody, don't say anything at all"