It was about seven years ago or so when I met her. My little Faith was only a few months old when I was asked to join a Bunko group with a couple of friends and their friends and sisters and so on. Faith tagged along in her little baby car seat as I visited the game tables. Bunko is a mindless game which gives women the excuse to eat and drink and celebrate time from home. Let's face it, it gives us time away from being the moms and wives that we are and experience some time of women laughter. There were many welcoming Bunko guests whom I had never met, but one stands out from the moment I met her. She was the type of person who has a calming spirit, friendly, energetic, warm smile, and without a doubt, one of the most genuine, beautiful people I've ever met. She oooed and ahhhhhed over my precious little girl, and within minutes she would ask all sorts of questions about me and my family. A couple of years of knowing her through this game we played, she had developed breast cancer, and so that journey began. I believe it was around the Spring of 2007 when she first discovered her lump. Fortunately, while other doctors would have dismissed it as it didn't seem to register on her mammogram; he encouraged futher testing. With those tests, a lump was visible and her life had changed and so began the cancer journey. Within months, my sister was diagnosed with her own breast cancer in August of 2007, and we soon came to learn that the two of them had triple negative breast cancer. Without sounding too technical, simply put, triple negative was not the type of breast cancer you wanted to get. Although there is always hope; there are more limitations and less options available for this particular type. I suppose anyone given that diagnosis would certainly feel overwhelmed; yet, she still had a strong faith, hope and was an example of how we all should live our lives.
She came to know Chrissy through me as I realized the two of them had so much in common. At one time they were both hair stylists and both worked in medical offices, their husbands worked in IT, both grew up in a large family, and finally both were diagnosed with this beast......breast cancer. The commonality of their journeys was uncanny, and both came to know each other and support one another as each faced the trials and tribulations of this trip.
After Chrissy's death, she sent cards, wrote words of support to Frank and me while she herself was undergoing chemotherapy and continuous testing. She seemed to almost lick this disease, and then it would return with a vengence many times over. Chrissy and me encouraged her to start a Caringbridge site awhile back, which by the way, she wasn't thrilled about, as she was more of a private soul who would deal with it on her own terms. I respected that, but my sister was persistent, and low and behold Chrissy registered her on the wonderful site so that friends and family could support her. Chrissy knew the importance in her own journey of receiving positive notes from friends and family. At the beginning she was grateful; yet, still awkward with posting her updates. Perhaps she thought it was a burden to others, maybe she was more of a private person........I'm not sure......but she got use to it. My last contact with her was in mid July, and she was still so upbeat, even though the cancer had spread and now she was at Stage IV. Amid the trial possiblities and chemo, she stayed positive and faithful to God. She still inquired about Frank and the kids and my life. Always thinking of others before herself.....that's what I learned from her, too. I so admired her spirit and vitality, along with her warm beautiful smile. Later in August, she posted on her site about getting her kids ready for school, and I was still dumbfounded as to where she found the energy, but I know it was all about her kids and her husband. She seemed to be the active Catholic mom who was always involved and ready to help. There were so many others who knew her better than me, but I will be forever grateful for her role in my sister's life as well as mine. She encouraged and supported my sister so much. Two people, like so many others, understand what each one was living. This morning I learned that my bunko friend had taken her last breath and certainly entered God's kingdom. I have no doubt, my bunko friend, my sister's supporter is now at peace and embracing not only total joy but embracing my sister. I can only imagine their reunion as they speak of of us, those that mourn. While we still grieve, they are experiencing life beyond this one. My dear bunko friend, my sister......... I love you both!
To Patti's family and friends, I wish you all peace in the days that are before you. May God be with you in this journey......this journey of life filled with grief but also joy.
There is a time for joy.......it will come.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Monday, August 23, 2010
My Son, My Sister
My eldest son, Eric, turned 14 years old on Sunday! I can hardly believe where all the years have gone. It seems like yesterday when I spent 20 hours of labor waiting for him to come out, only to see him enter this world looking wide-eyed around the hospital room. His tears faded away to the sound of my voice, only wonderment beamed about his face, and he was the spitting image of my husband and still is today. It's been said to me many times, especially by strangers, cashiers, women in my church......after seeing me with my children....."These are the best years of your life, they go by so quickly, enjoy every moment." That statement is so true and is even more relevant as it relates to my life right now. I try to take each moment of time with my children and cherish it, as I've seen with my sister, time can move so quickly and then everything is so different. In a flash they grow up, and it is up to us to capture the moments.
With losses in life there comes a "knowing." Knowing comes from seeing the transformations of spirit, of body, of mind when you feel the deepest fulfillment of love, watching someone taking their last breaths, while at the same time feeling tremendous pain, sometimes all in the same minute. Eric had a very special bond with his Aunt Chrissy, and he tells me almost everyday, especially at night how much he misses her. He has always been such a wise, old soul even when he was very young, and anyone who meets him is usually surprised by his maturity and thought processes. It makes you want to be a better person when you're around him. After hearing some of his thoughts; I thank God for being the mother of such a wonderful, kind soul. He is such a blessing!
When we moved from High Ridge to Ellisville, we lived with Chrissy and Frank in between until we bought our next home. We lived with them for about 4 months, before Frankie and Maria were born, and I think Chrissy connected with Eric like he was her own. He was about 3 years old at the time, and he told Chrissy that when he grows up, he would mow their lawn. He wasn't going to charge them money; he only wanted apples!
He would chat with her often, and sometimes when I was being the "mother" to him, Chrissy would give me that look like, lay off of him. One time much later, after we moved into our house, Chrissy called me to say that she thought Eric had gotten into her cigarettes because someone had tore them up and scattered them all over their front lawn. Of course, I couldn't believe that he would do this, and at first Eric denied it, and I believed him. I even told him he wasn't going to get punished because I understood why he would have done it. Eric never lies I told myself. He emphatically denied it. I told Chrissy that Eric said it wasn't him. "Are you sure it wasn't one of the neighbor kids????" I asked. There was silence over the phone, and she hesitated but said, "Ohhh, hmmm, I don't know about that. If he says he didn't do it..(pause).....okay, well." Was I being one of those moms? I hung up the phone and it dawned on me, I was being one of those moms......a mom who didn't want to accept that their child did something wrong. I wanted Eric to tell me himself, though, that he did it. It was shortly after I put him to bed that night, and within a few minutes, he crept out of bed and into the family room where I was watching the television. With a fearful look in his eyes he said, "Mom, I have something to tell you, and you're not going to be happy. I was the one who broke the cigarettes and scattered them all over Aunt Chrissy's lawn." I wasn't happy that he had lied to me, but I was happy that he fessed up to doing that, and I understood why. He did have to apologize to his Aunt Chrissy, but he also told her that he didn't like that she smoked either.
Eric was a child who required and welcomed the truth, and he always wanted to know how his Aunt Chrissy was doing. As the weeks and months passed, I would tell him of her journey, the hope we had, the possibilities of the medicines and the prayers we had to say for her, Uncle Frank and the kids. His eyes were still young and naive, and I wasn't going to break his spirit.....I didn't want to break my spirit of hope as long as there was breath. Some days it was more difficult than others, so very challenging to stay positive when the results of tests or numbers were not. The day came when there were no more medicines to try; they had used them all and then some more. That was one of the most difficult days of my life.......the day I had to tell him that his Aunt Chrissy was probably going to see heaven soon. With disbelief in his eyes and utter shock; we held each other and wept.
He wanted to be near her and never let go......."I want to be with her mom," he would say. "I know my friend, I know," I sighed. Time appeared to stop back then; yet, it moved so quickly. Each step felt so heavy, not quite sure where or how to move, but we moved. Everyday he was asking to see her and inquiring about her condition. Everyday I would tell him the same......."She's very sick, Eric, we need to keep praying for her." In his years growing into adulthood, I hope he holds on to all his memories, not only while she was sick, but all of his wonderful memories with Chrissy. I'll never forget his words when he saw his cherished Aunt Chrissy, his second mom, his confidant. Expressing his love for her while looking into her eyes he said, "We love you Aunt Chrissy, and we'll be with you every step of the way."
I have so many proud moments of this son of mine, but that had to be one of my favorite, proudest moments: my son loving his aunt, my sister.
With losses in life there comes a "knowing." Knowing comes from seeing the transformations of spirit, of body, of mind when you feel the deepest fulfillment of love, watching someone taking their last breaths, while at the same time feeling tremendous pain, sometimes all in the same minute. Eric had a very special bond with his Aunt Chrissy, and he tells me almost everyday, especially at night how much he misses her. He has always been such a wise, old soul even when he was very young, and anyone who meets him is usually surprised by his maturity and thought processes. It makes you want to be a better person when you're around him. After hearing some of his thoughts; I thank God for being the mother of such a wonderful, kind soul. He is such a blessing!
When we moved from High Ridge to Ellisville, we lived with Chrissy and Frank in between until we bought our next home. We lived with them for about 4 months, before Frankie and Maria were born, and I think Chrissy connected with Eric like he was her own. He was about 3 years old at the time, and he told Chrissy that when he grows up, he would mow their lawn. He wasn't going to charge them money; he only wanted apples!
He would chat with her often, and sometimes when I was being the "mother" to him, Chrissy would give me that look like, lay off of him. One time much later, after we moved into our house, Chrissy called me to say that she thought Eric had gotten into her cigarettes because someone had tore them up and scattered them all over their front lawn. Of course, I couldn't believe that he would do this, and at first Eric denied it, and I believed him. I even told him he wasn't going to get punished because I understood why he would have done it. Eric never lies I told myself. He emphatically denied it. I told Chrissy that Eric said it wasn't him. "Are you sure it wasn't one of the neighbor kids????" I asked. There was silence over the phone, and she hesitated but said, "Ohhh, hmmm, I don't know about that. If he says he didn't do it..(pause).....okay, well." Was I being one of those moms? I hung up the phone and it dawned on me, I was being one of those moms......a mom who didn't want to accept that their child did something wrong. I wanted Eric to tell me himself, though, that he did it. It was shortly after I put him to bed that night, and within a few minutes, he crept out of bed and into the family room where I was watching the television. With a fearful look in his eyes he said, "Mom, I have something to tell you, and you're not going to be happy. I was the one who broke the cigarettes and scattered them all over Aunt Chrissy's lawn." I wasn't happy that he had lied to me, but I was happy that he fessed up to doing that, and I understood why. He did have to apologize to his Aunt Chrissy, but he also told her that he didn't like that she smoked either.
Eric was a child who required and welcomed the truth, and he always wanted to know how his Aunt Chrissy was doing. As the weeks and months passed, I would tell him of her journey, the hope we had, the possibilities of the medicines and the prayers we had to say for her, Uncle Frank and the kids. His eyes were still young and naive, and I wasn't going to break his spirit.....I didn't want to break my spirit of hope as long as there was breath. Some days it was more difficult than others, so very challenging to stay positive when the results of tests or numbers were not. The day came when there were no more medicines to try; they had used them all and then some more. That was one of the most difficult days of my life.......the day I had to tell him that his Aunt Chrissy was probably going to see heaven soon. With disbelief in his eyes and utter shock; we held each other and wept.
He wanted to be near her and never let go......."I want to be with her mom," he would say. "I know my friend, I know," I sighed. Time appeared to stop back then; yet, it moved so quickly. Each step felt so heavy, not quite sure where or how to move, but we moved. Everyday he was asking to see her and inquiring about her condition. Everyday I would tell him the same......."She's very sick, Eric, we need to keep praying for her." In his years growing into adulthood, I hope he holds on to all his memories, not only while she was sick, but all of his wonderful memories with Chrissy. I'll never forget his words when he saw his cherished Aunt Chrissy, his second mom, his confidant. Expressing his love for her while looking into her eyes he said, "We love you Aunt Chrissy, and we'll be with you every step of the way."
I have so many proud moments of this son of mine, but that had to be one of my favorite, proudest moments: my son loving his aunt, my sister.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Bathtime
Recently, when I was drawing a bath for my daughter, Faith, and hearing her yell, "It's too hot mom!".....it reminded me of my lil' sis, Chrissy, and how I used to get a bath ready for her. In fact, she was probably around the same age as Faith is now when I use to do this for her. Back then, though, I wasn't as patient when Chrissy would yell the same thing, and then shortly after I would add more cold water, and then she would yell, "It's too cold!"
As kids, I was probably 10 or 11 years old and Chrissy would have been 6 or 7. We used to audio tape events around the house with our cassette player, and I think I still have that particular cassette where I am drawing a bath for her. I would start the water and leave the bathroom while Chrissy would take off her clothes, and you could hear me rummaging about the house, and then you can hear Chrissy's voice yelling for me again. I can sense the agitation in my voice as she continues calling me......only to let me know the first time that the water is too cold. My foot steps pounding across the kitchen floor as I turn on more hot water. I know I was busy doing other house chores which I didn't want to do, and now I had to do this chore for my little sister. She would call me yet again when the water would become too hot. It was a back and forth game that I hated then, and now I wish it was possible to do it again for her. She grew to cherish her bath time into adulthood. That was her way of releasing the stress of the day. Children in bed, warm bubbly bath drawn, and there was my sister sinking into her hot bath. During the time nearing her death, it was bath time again. The nurse's aide would bathe her ever so gently, and sometimes Chrissy wanted me beside her so that I could see the "proper' way to bathe her. "You never know when you may need to do this for me," she would tell me. My heart was aching as she had allowed her power to be given to another, not by choice, but by necessity. There were times I would scream out in anger to God telling him this wasn't right, He made a mistake, it's not her turn.....this shouldn't be. He is God and I am me, and I will never understand, but I pray that I will or atleast accept what is to be.
Baths are my saving grace now as I put my worries aside and sink into a warm/hot bubbly bath where I can relax, stare into the flames of the candles, look up at the sky light, watch the stars and clear my mind......sometimes with a glass of wine, always thinking of her and her baths. I not only think of her, but I am reminded of my blessings and the time I did have with her. I'll never draw a bath and not think of her.....my sissy and her bathtime.
Lord, you are a compassionate and caring Father. Thank you for nurturing my development step by step and giving me understanding just as I need it. Help me to be as patient as you are with my simple and imperfect attempts at gaining maturity.
As kids, I was probably 10 or 11 years old and Chrissy would have been 6 or 7. We used to audio tape events around the house with our cassette player, and I think I still have that particular cassette where I am drawing a bath for her. I would start the water and leave the bathroom while Chrissy would take off her clothes, and you could hear me rummaging about the house, and then you can hear Chrissy's voice yelling for me again. I can sense the agitation in my voice as she continues calling me......only to let me know the first time that the water is too cold. My foot steps pounding across the kitchen floor as I turn on more hot water. I know I was busy doing other house chores which I didn't want to do, and now I had to do this chore for my little sister. She would call me yet again when the water would become too hot. It was a back and forth game that I hated then, and now I wish it was possible to do it again for her. She grew to cherish her bath time into adulthood. That was her way of releasing the stress of the day. Children in bed, warm bubbly bath drawn, and there was my sister sinking into her hot bath. During the time nearing her death, it was bath time again. The nurse's aide would bathe her ever so gently, and sometimes Chrissy wanted me beside her so that I could see the "proper' way to bathe her. "You never know when you may need to do this for me," she would tell me. My heart was aching as she had allowed her power to be given to another, not by choice, but by necessity. There were times I would scream out in anger to God telling him this wasn't right, He made a mistake, it's not her turn.....this shouldn't be. He is God and I am me, and I will never understand, but I pray that I will or atleast accept what is to be.
Baths are my saving grace now as I put my worries aside and sink into a warm/hot bubbly bath where I can relax, stare into the flames of the candles, look up at the sky light, watch the stars and clear my mind......sometimes with a glass of wine, always thinking of her and her baths. I not only think of her, but I am reminded of my blessings and the time I did have with her. I'll never draw a bath and not think of her.....my sissy and her bathtime.
Lord, you are a compassionate and caring Father. Thank you for nurturing my development step by step and giving me understanding just as I need it. Help me to be as patient as you are with my simple and imperfect attempts at gaining maturity.
Monday, August 16, 2010
School Is Here........Again
"School days, school days, reading and writing and rule days......." Mom used to chant this song with a smile on her face every year when we woke up on that first day of school. It would irritate the heck out of me. How could she want her precious babies to go back to that....that school......that prison! Wouldn't she miss us? So many rules, so many assignments and getting used to new teachers and their way of doing things in the classroom. It didn't make sense to me. We had such a great summer! How could she turn on us???Once I became a mom, it all became clear, I understood that smile on my mom's face.
My mind visits so many places these days, near and far......years present and past when we were kids. As soon as the calendar flipped over to the month of August, I remember that sick feeling in my gut. No more late nights and playing tag, no more late night movies, no more swimming and walking bare foot all summer long. Ugh! Part of me was so excited to see my school friends again, but facing the days of homework and projects just plain made me sick. In those days, I felt such a passion to do the very best at school. For some kids, it was a natural, but for me, I had to study really hard and long to get those "A"s. A week or so before school started, mom would take us to the Catholic uniform store to buy our new plaid uniforms, somewhere in Baden, with the white-collared shirts underneath. They were soooo hot during the warm months of school, and there wasn't any air conditioning in those buildings! Our next trip would be to the shoe store to buy our school shoes that were supposed to last the entire year. Mom wasn't so concerned about style as she was on quality. It wasn't until I begged her to buy me the shoes that were in fashion, only to realize that she was right. Fashion wasn't always cost effective, and she knew they would fall apart early, and they did. We walked to school in those days, rain or shine. Snow boots were worn when it snowed and windbreakers were worn in the rain. My sister Deni would walk me to school when I was in the first grade. Deni has about seven years on me, so I thought I was really cool walking with the big kids. Strange, how some weird memories are forever etched in your mind, and one that stands out was when I brought my first lunch box with a thermos to school. In those days, the kids' thermoses were made of glass inside. I'll never forget walking around the corner near St. Catherine's gymnasium and the thermos flew out of my lunch box. I didn't realize it had a glass interior. As I sat down to eat lunch and drink my kool-aid that day, I thought mom had crushed some ice for me. I looked inside and saw these crystal-like pieces floating around in there. It wasn't until I took a drink that I realized it was glass. Feeling upset and so very shy, I didn't tell anyone. Crazy as it was, I was afraid that I would get into trouble for breaking the thermos. I don't know if that was because I was only in first grade or because of the Catholic guilt......??? Not sure, but needless to say, as we walked from recess to our classroom, I saw a trail of kool-aid dripping from my lunch box! I was so embarrassed, hoping no one would notice, and I pulled it off. After I got through that ordeal; I had to figure out how I was going to tell mom that I broke my new thermos. After all these years, I still remember how traumatic that day was for me. As I was on the older end in my grade school years, I remember walking to school with Chrissy. We would look at stuff on our way to school, laugh about silly things and we were in the moment. I never realized until recently how much she looked up to me as her big sister. In those days, sometimes I didn't always want her around me......I wanted my own room, my own friends, my own time. For me, it seemed as though we had to share everything. During our talks together around the table and at the hospital, she would smile at me with those clenched teeth, talking to me in that sassy sort of voice that we use and say, "I wanted to be around you, and you would get so annoyed!"
Isn't it funny how life changes? Once upon a time she was the pesty little sister.........and then we grew up. Everything changed..........so fast........and it will never be the same.
As a mom, I have anxiously awaited for that first day of school, "cracking the whip", eagerly buying school clothes and school supplies with a smile on my face......awaiting that moment when they would become the school's responsibility for awhile. Usually, by the time August arrives, I am biting at the bullet, reminding the kids that they will not have to fight over the remote anymore because school is right around the corner. This year, though, everything has changed, all is different. As August made its way into my world yet again, the tears began. I have that same feeling as when I was a kid. That sick feeling in my gut has returned. This year I will miss the kids, even though they may have pushed my buttons at times......I will truly miss them. Yes, I know, they will return at the end of the day......atleast that's what I tell myself. They will return or will they? Life has a way of changing in a flash, doesn't it? I can't dwell on what ifs, but perhaps it's more about what we shared this summer that meant so much. This summer had its share of roller coaster emtoional rides as the kids faced their first summer without their mom. We spent our time swimming, playing, golfing, watching Frankie during his baseball games and all sorts of St. Louis fun, but she was not here like she used to be. That my friends is so very hard......so very difficult. The smile of relief that once appeared on my face.......isn't here this year. Instead, the smile has been replaced by tears. I am dreading the hustle and bustle of meetings, homework, projects and all that goes with having kids going to school. The summer was a good one with my kids. Chillin out, having sleepovers, going to our favorite "carnival" food store, camping, fishing, golfing, watching movies and eating our popcorn.....that's what we did, and I am so grateful. Without her physical presence, life was emotional for me and yet good, too. Perhaps its the sense that life has to move forward, and I don't want to........I simply don't want to. The tears flow as I say "hello" to a new school year tomorrow filled with routines and duties, new friends, new memories..........new life. Perhaps it's remembering my mom who passed to her new life 24 years ago on August 19th. The mom who I admired and loved so much and the little sister who was taken too early are standing side by side and blanketing us with their loving souls. It will never be the same, and I miss them with all my heart. Yes, school days have arrived, school is here......again.
Give time to love, give time to speak! And give time to share the precious thoughts in your mind.
- George Carlin
My mind visits so many places these days, near and far......years present and past when we were kids. As soon as the calendar flipped over to the month of August, I remember that sick feeling in my gut. No more late nights and playing tag, no more late night movies, no more swimming and walking bare foot all summer long. Ugh! Part of me was so excited to see my school friends again, but facing the days of homework and projects just plain made me sick. In those days, I felt such a passion to do the very best at school. For some kids, it was a natural, but for me, I had to study really hard and long to get those "A"s. A week or so before school started, mom would take us to the Catholic uniform store to buy our new plaid uniforms, somewhere in Baden, with the white-collared shirts underneath. They were soooo hot during the warm months of school, and there wasn't any air conditioning in those buildings! Our next trip would be to the shoe store to buy our school shoes that were supposed to last the entire year. Mom wasn't so concerned about style as she was on quality. It wasn't until I begged her to buy me the shoes that were in fashion, only to realize that she was right. Fashion wasn't always cost effective, and she knew they would fall apart early, and they did. We walked to school in those days, rain or shine. Snow boots were worn when it snowed and windbreakers were worn in the rain. My sister Deni would walk me to school when I was in the first grade. Deni has about seven years on me, so I thought I was really cool walking with the big kids. Strange, how some weird memories are forever etched in your mind, and one that stands out was when I brought my first lunch box with a thermos to school. In those days, the kids' thermoses were made of glass inside. I'll never forget walking around the corner near St. Catherine's gymnasium and the thermos flew out of my lunch box. I didn't realize it had a glass interior. As I sat down to eat lunch and drink my kool-aid that day, I thought mom had crushed some ice for me. I looked inside and saw these crystal-like pieces floating around in there. It wasn't until I took a drink that I realized it was glass. Feeling upset and so very shy, I didn't tell anyone. Crazy as it was, I was afraid that I would get into trouble for breaking the thermos. I don't know if that was because I was only in first grade or because of the Catholic guilt......??? Not sure, but needless to say, as we walked from recess to our classroom, I saw a trail of kool-aid dripping from my lunch box! I was so embarrassed, hoping no one would notice, and I pulled it off. After I got through that ordeal; I had to figure out how I was going to tell mom that I broke my new thermos. After all these years, I still remember how traumatic that day was for me. As I was on the older end in my grade school years, I remember walking to school with Chrissy. We would look at stuff on our way to school, laugh about silly things and we were in the moment. I never realized until recently how much she looked up to me as her big sister. In those days, sometimes I didn't always want her around me......I wanted my own room, my own friends, my own time. For me, it seemed as though we had to share everything. During our talks together around the table and at the hospital, she would smile at me with those clenched teeth, talking to me in that sassy sort of voice that we use and say, "I wanted to be around you, and you would get so annoyed!"
Isn't it funny how life changes? Once upon a time she was the pesty little sister.........and then we grew up. Everything changed..........so fast........and it will never be the same.
As a mom, I have anxiously awaited for that first day of school, "cracking the whip", eagerly buying school clothes and school supplies with a smile on my face......awaiting that moment when they would become the school's responsibility for awhile. Usually, by the time August arrives, I am biting at the bullet, reminding the kids that they will not have to fight over the remote anymore because school is right around the corner. This year, though, everything has changed, all is different. As August made its way into my world yet again, the tears began. I have that same feeling as when I was a kid. That sick feeling in my gut has returned. This year I will miss the kids, even though they may have pushed my buttons at times......I will truly miss them. Yes, I know, they will return at the end of the day......atleast that's what I tell myself. They will return or will they? Life has a way of changing in a flash, doesn't it? I can't dwell on what ifs, but perhaps it's more about what we shared this summer that meant so much. This summer had its share of roller coaster emtoional rides as the kids faced their first summer without their mom. We spent our time swimming, playing, golfing, watching Frankie during his baseball games and all sorts of St. Louis fun, but she was not here like she used to be. That my friends is so very hard......so very difficult. The smile of relief that once appeared on my face.......isn't here this year. Instead, the smile has been replaced by tears. I am dreading the hustle and bustle of meetings, homework, projects and all that goes with having kids going to school. The summer was a good one with my kids. Chillin out, having sleepovers, going to our favorite "carnival" food store, camping, fishing, golfing, watching movies and eating our popcorn.....that's what we did, and I am so grateful. Without her physical presence, life was emotional for me and yet good, too. Perhaps its the sense that life has to move forward, and I don't want to........I simply don't want to. The tears flow as I say "hello" to a new school year tomorrow filled with routines and duties, new friends, new memories..........new life. Perhaps it's remembering my mom who passed to her new life 24 years ago on August 19th. The mom who I admired and loved so much and the little sister who was taken too early are standing side by side and blanketing us with their loving souls. It will never be the same, and I miss them with all my heart. Yes, school days have arrived, school is here......again.
Give time to love, give time to speak! And give time to share the precious thoughts in your mind.
- George Carlin
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)