Still Playing In The Crayon Box

Spent some time today cleaning out my old Photobucket account and came across my old computer paintings. From 2007, and still real green about the computer, not knowing all the things it could do. One day I got brave and clicked the menu and saw this thing that said Paint Program, so I clicked it.  Oh my, I was in Heaven! A virtual Crayon Box!! LOL. Having a ball coloring like I was 7 again.  As I always say about myself--"adult by accident". Not even then knowing half the capabilities of this program. I created these little free hand paintings. I had thought maybe a couple of these would make cute tags if I printed them, but I've never gotten to that...maybe one year I will. I have not spent time creating anymore since that time. But I remember the hours of fun I had doing these.

                                                                               

A Doll For My Sister

I was walking around in a Big Bazar store making shopping, when I saw a Cashier talking to a boy couldn't have been more than 5 or 6 years old....

The Cashier said, 'I'm sorry, but you don't have enough money to buy this doll. Then the little boy turned to me and asked: ''Uncle, are you sure I don't have enough money?''

                                                                    

I counted his cash and replied: ''You know that you don't have enough money to buy the doll, my dear.'' The little boy was still holding the doll in his hand.

Finally, I walked toward him and I asked him who he wished to give this doll to. 'It's the doll that my sister loved most and wanted somuch . I wanted to Gift her for her BIRTHDAY.

I have to give the doll to my mommy so that she can give it to my sister when she goes there.' His eyes were so sad while saying this. 'My Sister has gone to be with God... Daddy says that Mommy is going to see God very soon too, so I thought that she could take the doll with her to give it to my sister...''

My heart nearly stopped. The little boy looked up at me and said: 'I told daddy to tell mommy not to go yet. I need her to wait until I come back from the mall.' Then he showed me a very nice photo of him where he was laughing. He then told me 'I want mommy to take mypicture with her so my sister won't forget me.' 'I love my mommy and I wish she do esn't have to leave me, but daddy says that she has to go to be with my little sister.' Then he looked again at the doll withsad eyes, very quietly.

I quickly reached for my wallet and said to the boy. 'Suppose we checkagain, just in case you do have enough money for the doll?''

'OK' he said, 'I hope I do have enough.' I added some of my money to his with out him seeing and we started to count it. There was enough for the doll and even some spare money.

The little boy said: 'Thank you God for giving me enough money!'

Then he looked at me and added, 'I asked last night before I went to sleep for God to make sure I had enough money to buy this doll, so that mommy could give It to my sister. He heard me!'' 'I also wantedto have enough money to buy a white rose for my mommy, but I didn'tdare to ask God for too much. But He gave me enough to buy the doll and a white rose. My mommy loves white roses.'

I finished my shopping in a totally different state from when I started. I couldn't get the little boy out of my mind. Then I remembered a local news paper article two days ago, which
mentioned a drunk man in a truck, who hit a car occupied by a  young woman and a little girl. The little girl died right away, and the mother was left in a critical state. The family had to decide whether  to pull the plug on the life-sustaining machine, because the young woman would not be able to recover from the coma. Was this the family of the little boy?

Two days after this encounter with the little boy, I read in the news paper that the young woman had passed away.. I couldn't stop myself asI bought a bunch of white roses and I went to the funeral home where the body of the young woman was exposed for people to see and make last wishes before her burial. She was there, in her coffin, holding a beautiful white rose in her hand with the photo of the little boy and the doll placed over her chest. I left the place, teary-eyed, feeling that my life had been changed for ever...

The love that the little boy had for his mother and his sister is still, to this day, hard to imagine. And in a fraction of a second, a drunk driver had taken all this away from him.

Christmas At The Gas Station

The old man sat in his gas station on a cold Christmas Eve. He hadn't been anywhere in years since his wife had passed away. It was just another day to him. He didn't hate Christmas, just couldn't find a reason to celebrate. He was sitting there looking at the snow that had been falling for the last hour and wondering what it was all about when the door opened and a homeless man stepped through.

                                                                                   

Instead of throwing the man out, Old George as he was known by his customers, told the man to come and sit by the heater and warm up. "Thank you, but I don't mean to intrude," said the stranger. "I see you're busy, I'll just go." "Not without something hot in your belly." George said.

He turned and opened a wide mouth Thermos and handed it to the stranger. "It ain't much, but it's hot and tasty. Stew ... Made it myself. When you're done, there's coffee and it's fresh."

Just at that moment he heard the "ding" of the driveway bell. "Excuse me, be right back," George said. There in the driveway was an old '53 Chevy. Steam was rolling out of the front. The driver was panicked. "Mister can you help me!" said the driver, with a deep Spanish accent. "My wife is with child and my car is broken." George opened the hood. It was bad. The block looked cracked from the cold, the car was dead. "You ain't going in this thing," George said as he turned away.

"But Mister, please help ..." The door of the office closed behind George as he went inside. He went to the office wall and got the keys to his old truck, and went back outside. He walked around the building, opened the garage, started the truck and drove it around to where the couple was waiting. "Here, take my truck," he said. "She ain't the best thing you ever looked at, but she runs real good."

George helped put the woman in the truck and watched as it sped off into the night. He turned and walked back inside the office. "Glad I gave 'em the truck, their tires were shot too. That 'ol truck has brand new ." George thought he was talking to the stranger, but the man had gone. The Thermos was on the desk, empty, with a used coffee cup beside it. "Well, at least he got something in his belly," George thought.

George went back outside to see if the old Chevy would start. It cranked slowly, but it started. He pulled it into the garage where the truck had been. He thought he would tinker with it for something to do. Christmas Eve meant no customers. He discovered the block hadn't cracked, it was just the bottom hose on the radiator. "Well, shoot, I can fix this," he said to
himself. So he put a new one on.

"Those tires ain't gonna get 'em through the winter either." He took the snow treads off of his wife's old Lincoln. They were like new and he wasn't going to drive the car anyway.

As he was working, he heard shots being fired. He ran outside and beside a police car an officer lay on the cold ground. Bleeding from the left shoulder, the officer moaned, "Please help me."

George helped the officer inside as he remembered the training he had received in the Army as a medic. He knew the wound needed attention. "Pressure to stop the bleeding," he thought. The uniform company had been there that morning and had left clean shop towels. He used those and duct tape to bind the wound. "Hey, they say duct tape can fix anythin'," he said, trying to make the policeman feel at ease.

"Something for pain," George thought. All he had was the pills he used for his back. "These ought to work." He put some water in a cup and gave the policeman the pills. "You hang in there, I'm going to get you an ambulance."

The phone was dead. "Maybe I can get one of your buddies on that there talk box out in your car." He went out only to find that a bullet had gone into the dashboard destroying the two way radio.

He went back in to find the policeman sitting up. "Thanks," said the officer. "You could have left me there. The guy that shot me is still in the area."

George sat down beside him, "I would never leave an injured man in the Army and I ain't gonna leave you." George pulled back the bandage to check for bleeding. "Looks worse than what it is. Bullet passed right through 'ya. Good thing it missed the important stuff though. I think with time your gonna be right as rain."

George got up and poured a cup of coffee. "How do you take it?" he asked. "None for me," said the officer. "Oh, yer gonna drink this. Best in the city. Too bad I ain't got no donuts." The officer laughed and winced at the same time.

The front door of the office flew open. In burst a young man with a gun. "Give me all your cash! Do it now!" the young man yelled. His hand was shaking and George could tell that he had never done anything like this before.

"That's the guy that shot me!" exclaimed the officer.

"Son, why are you doing this?" asked George, "You need to put the cannon away. Somebody else might get hurt."

The young man was confused. "Shut up old man, or I'll shoot you, too. Now give me the cash!"

The cop was reaching for his gun. "Put that thing away," George said to the cop, "we got one too many in here now."

He turned his attention to the young man. "Son, it's Christmas Eve. If you need money, well then, here. It ain't much but it's all I got. Now put that pea shooter away."

George pulled $150 out of his pocket and handed it to the young man, reaching for the barrel of the gun at the same time. The young man released his grip on the gun, fell to his knees and began to cry. "I'm not very good at this am I? All I wanted was to buy something for my wife and son," he went on. "I've lost my job, my rent is due, my car got repossessed last week."

George handed the gun to the cop. "Son, we all get in a bit of squeeze now and then. The road gets hard sometimes, but we make it through the best we can."

He got the young man to his feet, and sat him down on a chair across from the cop. "Sometimes we do stupid things." George handed the young man a cup of coffee. "Bein' stupid is one of the things that makes us human. Comin' in here with a gun ain't the answer. Now sit there and get warm and we'll sort this thing out."

The young man had stopped crying. He looked over to the cop. "Sorry I shot you. It just went off. I'm sorry officer." "Shut up and drink your coffee " the cop said. George could hear the sounds of sirens outside. A police car and an ambulance skidded to a halt. Two cops came through the door, guns drawn. "Chuck! You ok?" one of the cops asked the wounded officer.

"Not bad for a guy who took a bullet. How did you find me?"

"GPS locator in the car. Best thing since sliced bread. Who did this?" the other cop asked as he approached the young man.

Chuck answered him, "I don't know. The guy ran off into the dark. Just dropped his gun and ran."

George and the young man both looked puzzled at each other.

"That guy work here?" the wounded cop continued. "Yep," George said, "just hired him this morning. Boy lost his job."

The paramedics came in and loaded Chuck onto the stretcher. The young man leaned over the wounded cop and whispered, "Why?"

Chuck just said, "Merry Christmas boy ... and you too, George, and thanks for everything."

"Well, looks like you got one doozy of a break there. That ought to solve some of your problems."

George went into the back room and came out with a box. He pulled out a ring box. "Here you go, something for the little woman. I don't think Martha would mind. She said it would come in handy some day."

The young man looked inside to see the biggest diamond ring he ever saw. "I can't take this," said the young man. "It means something to you."

"And now it means something to you," replied George. "I got my memories. That's all I need."

George reached into the box again. An airplane, a car and a truck appeared next. They were toys that the oil company had left for him to sell. "Here's something for that little man of yours."

The young man began to cry again as he handed back the $150 that the old man had handed him earlier.

"And what are you supposed to buy Christmas dinner with? You keep that too," George said. "Now git home to your family."

The young man turned with tears streaming down his face. "I'll be here in the morning for work, if that job offer is still good."

"Nope. I'm closed Christmas day," George said. "See ya the day after."

George turned around to find that the stranger had returned. "Where'd you come from? I thought you left?"

"I have been here. I have always been here," said the stranger. "You say you don't celebrate Christmas. Why?"

"Well, after my wife passed away, I just couldn't see what all the bother was. Puttin' up a tree and all seemed a waste of a good pine tree. Bakin' cookies like I used to with Martha just wasn't the same by myself and besides I was gettin' a little chubby."

The stranger put his hand on George's shoulder. "But you do celebrate the holiday, George. You gave me food and drink and warmed me when I was cold and hungry. The woman with child will bear a son and he will become a great doctor.

The policeman you helped will go on to save 19 people from being killed by terrorists. The young man who tried to rob you will make you a rich man and not take any for himself. "That is the spirit of the season and you keep it as good as any man."

George was taken aback by all this stranger had said. "And how do you know all this?" asked the old man.

"Trust me, George. I have the inside track on this sort of thing. And when your days are done you will be with Martha again."

The stranger moved toward the door. "If you will excuse me, George, I have to go now. I have to go home where there is a big celebration planned."

George watched as the old leather jacket and the torn pants that the stranger was wearing turned into a white robe. A golden light began to fill the room.

"You see, George ... it's My birthday. Merry Christmas."

George fell to his knees and replied, "Happy Birthday, Lord Jesus"

Merry Christmas!!

This story is better than any greeting card.

There's A Small Lump

The death and cancer journey had begun and so too the grief much too young. May 1971, I had just turned 8. The very week of my grandmother's funeral my mom discovered a small lump in her breast. She was 44.  She'd been through a living hell the last 2 years prior to this. My father had taken his own life in the summer of '69--the main cause as best I've been able to discern and understand in the four plus decades since  was that the long slippery slope of alcoholism (generational) and grappling with the long suppressed trauma of an abusive childhood had finally taken it's ultimate toll. Right on the heels of this devastating loss we learned that my grandma had inoperable pancreatic cancer, my mom caring for her (mostly in our home) for a little more than a year, all while keeping her family and home going, I don't know how she did it.
                                                                            

A few days after having laid our granny to rest, mom was on the phone with her cousin Gerry, I called her my aunt because she was always more of an aunt, as well, more of a sister to my mom.  As she was talking with Gerry she reached to scratch right above her left breast and felt a small lump.  Only the size of a BB she said.  She mentioned it to Gerry, not really thinking anything of it.  Gerry, being a nurse, immediately insisted that this be checked out. Thank God for Gerry, as my my mom was not one for going to the doctor.

With this, all of sudden my world was upside down as I found myself at my Aunt's house in Bellevue, my rich Aunt (the house they had in the 60's is on the same street Bill Gates lives on now). My aunt's life was very different from ours. Very upward status. Even as a youngster you could feel this. They always had all the latest and greatest.  I never envied it. My mom though would sometimes complain: "It's always brag, brag, brag", "I buy you Perfection and they have Superfection".  I still chuckle at this one. I couldn't have cared less. I played with their toys while we were there, it was of no issue to me, just did what kids do. We'd have a blast playing board games. I was a very content kid and just happy with what we had.  I had, in the years to come, heard more than a few relatives refer to their home as feeling "sterile"..."everything in it's appointed place".  She was always very good to us, but just an entirely different scene from the rest of the family. And I didn't particularly like staying at their house too long. I did have alot of fun with my cousins, but I would tire of it after a few days and want to be back home. Our home always felt, I don't know, more at ease...a sanctuary of love, simplicity and fun. Contented, with regularity, and nurturing. My mom had the wonderful quality and good sense to let her children just be kids. My aunt's way of life and routine felt much more regimentary. Exacting standards were to be upheld above all. Her disapproval of a thing was very much felt and voiced. But she treated us very well, and I can see had much patience with the childhood exuberance and antics that would inevitably occur when all of us kids were together. There were many fun times for sure.

Having lost my Dad just two years prior and my young mind struggling to process this profound loss, death itself, and having to adjust to this new reality and the re-arrangement of our life. Coupled with the inevitable fear a youngster develops when having lost one parent, of losing the other. And now, having JUST lost my grandmother, my young eyes having seen way too much of the illness that took my beloved granny away, I was all too aware of what this news about my mom meant. My mom was EVERYTHING to me...always.  I was inconsolable, and SO afraid.  I had my cousin Pam, who in those years I enjoyed spending some time with. On holidays and during summers she always begged for me to come and stay, and we would have alot of fun. They had a pool and they lived right on the golf course which provided plenty for us to explore. But during this stay, I could not have any fun, they could barely coax me out of Pam's room. I would just sit in there and stare at the floor, I could sense the frustration of it on my aunt. I felt so alone, and all I wanted was to be with my mom. The memories of this time are very vivid and still painful if I think of it.
                                                                                

Right away (no dilly-dallying around as it sometimes seems now days) my mom by doctor's advice had a Radical Mastectomy at Doctors Hospital in Tacoma. Even though the tumor was tiny and there was no metastasis, they took her breast, all the surrounding lymph nodes and muscle.  Her armpit was hollow and she had 78 stitches reaching down to her waist on the left side. When I was older she explained to me that the doctor had told her they were going to put her under and do a biopsy, and that if they found malignancy they would proceed to do a mastectomy. When she awoke she definitely knew the outcome.

Finally after a little more than a week or so of being at my aunt's I was going to get to see my mom. This hospital did not allow children in, but I guess seeing the state I was in, an exception was made and my Aunt and Uncle were able to get me in to see her. When I got into her room it was filled with relatives and I was an unusually shy kid and very bashful around adults, especially men, but this time I did not care...I flew to her, we couldn't hug. We had a kiss, that brought much comfort. I remember she had a large wet looking bandage over her chest. I was SO relieved to see her. I could tell she was happy to see me too.  And then I had to go back to my aunt's for another 3 weeks.  The older boys were at home and they had care of my youngest brother Scottie.  I missed them all and the normalcy that our life had been before all this.

They kept my mom in the hospital for 10 days. When she got back home she had a pretty difficult time the first week or so, she was in alot of pain and had trouble getting comfortable in her bed to sleep. She told me the first night she ended up getting out of bed and sitting up in the chair all night. The boys ended up raising the head of her bed up for her with paint cans, which made it much more comfortable for her.

When I finally got to come back home my mom was at our back door and she barely got the door open and I threw myself onto her waist and would not let go...I can remember her looking at my Aunt Donnie and saying "Oh my..this has been alot on her".  It was alot on all of us.

After that, I didn't want to leave her side, I couldn't be close enough. When I started 3rd grade after that summer, I went through a bad phase at school where I kept saying I didn't feel good so they would send me to the nurse and my mom would have to come and get me. I remember my teacher telling me the final time--"this is the last time Stacey".  I think she and my mom had a discussion...the insecurity I was feeling from all the losses and illness. With time and patience I got better and felt more secure. My 3rd grade year turned out really fun and one of my best.  Life went on very normal and happy.

                                                                              

That's Me..Next to Mrs. Woodard Our Teacher

My mom having lost all of the muscle and lymph nodes on her left side, her recovery was a long one. She took soothing baths every day and said that had helped so much in the healing. I remember we put a marker on the little wall by the closet door in the kitchen, and I would push and push and push her every day to reach "higher higher" 'till she could reach all the way up. Years and years later when I was in my late twenties she told me it was because of me that she made such a remarkable recovery. That made me feel good, and happy too that she felt that way.  But it was God and she who did that.

As I got older and would see how her body had been butchered over a tumor the size of a pea, I kind of thought it was overkill. She told me her doctor was very old fashioned and wanted to make sure. That's how it was handled in those years. But ya know, in the end she came back to full capability, none of this stopped her from going back to life as she was before.  Such a survivor ...such moxy. An example I have not lived up to. And she remained cancer free for 26 yrs., and I was so grateful of that. As well, I have since experienced through a couple friends who had only a lumpectomy and radiation ....their cancers returned and ultimately claimed their lives.  So I'm mixed in my feelings on this.

Sometimes through the years, not often, but sometimes, I would wonder what would have happened to my life if this had gone another way.  I would have been left in the custody of my aunt. It was a feeling of dread when I'd contemplate what life would have been like to live in their world and not be with my brothers. Thank you God for saving my mom and the wonderful happy childhood and life there after because of it.

As the years passed mom and I always remained so close.  As I became a young adult and after I married and moved from home, the bond only continued to grow.  I had the kind of Mom I could share anything with. My best friend expressed to me how fortunate I was to have this and how she so wished she and her mother could have this kind of bond. This made me appreciate even more how fortunate we were. Maybe having the fear of losing her so young gave me a greater appreciation for her, I don't know. And perhaps the loss of her husband, my dad. I've wondered at that at times, how it may have been different.

She was such an ageless spirit, who could relate to all from toddler to 80 year old. Such a good listener and so understanding. She cried with me through my break up with my first love, in fact sitting up with me all night long and into the moring, listening while I poured out my feelings and heartache. There right beside me through every trial and triumph. Even things as simple as my finally rescuing the princess in Nintendo Super Mario...Too funny LOL...She was working at the local diner and I called to tell her, she told me to hang on and she went and announced it to everyone.

We shared everything...holidays were so fun, as we worked together and I learned all the family traditions and special touches.  Christmas was just magical, and remained so through all the years.  She had such a flair for decorating, baking  and gift giving. Such loving personal thought put into all of it. More even than Christmas itself I loved our hectic shopping days lugging around bags till it felt like my arms would break off at the elbows ...out at the midnight sales and then going to Denny's for hot fudge sundaes at 1 in the morning.  Even all the hassles headaches with Xmas lites blowing out could be silly and fun. There were times she was so exhausted I'd find her fast asleep on her bed among mounds of packages and tangled wads of lites.

Our vacations at the ocean every summer...Enjoying my greatest love--the sea. Window shopping and souvenier buying. fabulous lunches at the marina, playing endless games of Trivial Pursuit in our cabin in the evenings.  She loved my wonderful hubby like he was her own son, which I was so happy and grateful for.  And he loved her just as much. I could go on and on...yes, it was indeed a wonderful life.  So rich in love.  I was so fortunate and always well aware of that, I treasured all of it.

                                                               ♥ The Two Loves Of My Life ♥
                                        
                                        •~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~•

And then the day came in April 1997...out of the blue she became sick. Her doctor wasn't certain but thought she might have developed a Pneunomia and sent her for a chest X-ray. The doctors office called 2 days later and wanted her to come in on either Friday or Monday to discuss the result. She chose Monday. By Saturday, the 19th, she was so sick I knew we had to go to the ER. I had to go out to our apt. and get some things, when I circled the cloverleaf and hit I5, all of a sudden such a sense of urgency hit me, I mashed the gas peddle and was speeding the entire 14 miles to our place. I quickly gathered what I needed and I raced back. When I arrived back at the house, mom was sitting at the kitchen table. I sat down and looked at her and gently said "mom, we have to go to the hospital". She didn't put up any protest, but agreed...NOT her normal. She asked if I'd help her sponge down first, she said she smelled. Shakily and very ineptly I helped her do that. I was so full of anxiety. Just getting her to the car was something else again. She was so obviously struggling and having a horrible time trying to breath. It was one of the worst horrible windy nights I could remember. When we arrived we put her in a wheelchair and I couldn't even do that straight being so rattled and afraid.  

Waiting from 9:30 at night till 5 in the morning for her to finally be settled into a room. Hours spent in a state of anxiety I had never experienced. Watching my mother struggle as I had never seen.  Needles and tubes being poked into her...blood gasses, oxygen levels.  Then they said they were going to catherize her and my heart went into my throat, she'd never been catherized in her life and I knew this was a big fear for her...this was a thing that went back over forty years.  A story she told me a few times through my life, when she had had a miscarriage in the mid 1950's. That she had hemorrahaged badly and was frightened out of her mind. Granny had wrapped her in a bedsheet and pop carried her to the car to go to the ER. And then the part about them wanting a urine sample and she told them she could not do that, the fear obviously taking over her senses. So the doctor told her if she wouldn't do this then they would have to catherize her.  Long story short, she gave a urine sample. When she'd tell this story I could tell it was a very traumatic thing and it always stuck with me. And now here we were with her having to face this particular thing. When they were preparing to catherize her this night, she asked me to leave the room while they did this. I didn't want to, I was so afraid for her. When I came back a half hour later I was so relieved to hear her say, it was no big deal at all, thank God.  

These seemingly endless hours were nothing but unrelenting anxiety, the not knowing and how terribly sick she obviously was. She was making that noise we all make when we are in pain and struggling. I've never felt so helpless. On the other side of the curtain in another bed was a patient who, from the emanating sounds and intensity of the attending nurses was plainly struggling to live. This only added to and compounded the unrealness we were swimming in.  So many trips outside and smoking too many cigarettes, feeling weakness but knowing I could not fall apart.  Just stuck in this miasma of fear hoping my legs would keep me standing. I will never forget the horrendous wind and rain of that horrible night. It  matched entirely the turmoil and storm going on inside of us.  The ER doctors were being very guarded in what they would say. When finally at around 5am they told us they were moving her to a room, we of course asked what they thought was the matter, the answer was so obviously vague and guarded. I remember something said about maybe an infection and that was all they would say. Which just didn't sound right to me and feeling tangibly they were just trying to placate. Fear reigns supreme at this point. We followed along while they wheeled her to her room.  She seemed so not there, and I couldn't connect to her. I had to just roll with all that was unfolding before us.  I wanted to stay with her, but she firmly wanted me to go.  She wanted to be on her own. I was as undone as I could ever remember being. We got back to the house and just sat in shock and stupor. There was no way I could rest.  

It was all SO unreal how fast this came down.  There was no indication. We had been doing our normal things like always, shopping, having lunch, celebrating Easter and then BAM! It didn't make sense...even her primary was floored. She had been in for her yearly physical just a few weeks prior and all was a-okay. Apparently not.

Hours later that morning back at the hospital we found out the x-ray the doctor had ordered earlier that week had revealed she had a large mass in her lungs. On Sunday she had an MRI and biopsy and the following Monday morning, we were told she had lung cancer. Hearing this I started to shake and of course the tears then poured forth...after receiving this news I went out to the fountain and threw in a coin, made a wish and begged God.
                                                                                   

When I later came into her room, she said to me with her chin quivering that she had a lump in her armpit...and for the life of me, I swear it felt to both of us like a time warp moment just between us—right back to 1971. I hesitantly asked her if I could feel it, and it was the size of a golf ball and hard as a rock! I was not prepared, I couldn't believe what my fingers were feeling, it was unreal, an electric shock went through me--the fear!! I held myself together, but I knew I couldn't stay long. I told her I had to go attend to some business and that I would be back in awhile. I made it to the parking garage with Allen and when I got into our car, the dam broke loose. I wailed like a wounded animal. He started the car and just drove randomly out of downtown and into the Tide Flats. I wailed the whole way there and back. I got it out and then found the strength as best I could to face what was ahead.

When I got back to her room, I found the gumption to ask her what I didn't want to ask, but because of the size of the lump, I had to: "Mom, have you been lying to me?"—— "NO Stacey, I had no idea this was there!' I have since learned that cancer CAN spread that fast--like wildfire! The doctors confirmed this. And I watched this happen with a friend's mother. She had just been given her all clear and a few days later she woke up with three lumps on her neck. And so to be at peace I have to believe what my mom said. The consultations with her Oncologist after her MRI scan revealed the cancer had metastasized into her nodes, liver and adrenal glands, with a big branch protruding out of her lung on the right side into her armpit. In the scan pictures it looked like wild mutated cauliflower. There's no words to adequately convey the utter devastation this news brought. They gave us two months.

But she passed just 17 days later on May 6, the same month as my grandma, the same month as her first cancer 26 years earlier.  And I suppose it should not have been of any surprise, but those short 17 days were sadly filled with family intrigue and unguarded words that still linger. Mostly the female counterparts, who we felt were appallingly crossing proper boundaries. I still feel so robbed because of that. I was the one mom had chosen to handle her affairs, having to deal with things I didn't want to, not then--I wanted to spend every living second we had with my mom! I was doing my very best to stay strong and diplomatic, but I had to contend with being dug to the bone over her property and decisions. My God. Who the hell cares about property and money?--Mom is going to die!! All this ate away at the precious time that was left. I could definitely sense it was all an attempt to wear me down. And I was so naive to this aspect of death and utterly unprepared for it. But have since learned, what we experienced in that way was mild when compared to things I've heard and sadly seen.

They scheduled her to come home on the 6th. I was at the house waiting on the medical supply company to deliver the equipment that was going to be needed when the call came from the hospital that mom had taken a sudden turn that morning. We raced to the hospital.  As soon as I entered her room I knew the hour was now at hand.  My brother Larry was with us. The look on his face as our eyes locked will never leave me.  His eyes--so haunted. He couldn't take it. He could not even enter. He turned and headed back down the corridor. I went straight to her, hoding her hand while she was gasping her last breaths. She was in a coma and Cheyne Stokes breathing. That was not a good thing to see I'll tell ya. I just kept hold of her hand and lightly stroked her hair. After about half an hour I let go of her to go find Larry, I was so worried about him, I had to check on him, he was not doing well at all I knew...I raced to the elevator and rode the three floors down to where he was outside, and literally outside himself.  I was only with him a minute or two when I told him I had to go back and he decided to ride back up with me, but said he couldn't come into her room.  When we got to her floor and as the elevator doors opened we were greeted by the young nurse who told us our mom had just passed.  My heart went into my throat, an adrenalin blade shot through me, my arms went a bit numb and my pulse began to race.  I got to her room and there she was...and here was the moment I'd been dreading virtually my entire life.  I literally said that in my head "here it is Stace".  I sank into the chair, my legs weren't going to hold me up. She looked just like when she was sleeping, but she was not just sleeping...she was gone.  Gone from here, gone till our time is at hand and we are again joined...this beautiful vibrant soul who was our mother and my best friend in the whole world. It felt hard to breath as I looked over at her lying on the bed--my senses trying to absorb this reality. There's nothing that can express what I was feeling. And still feel if I allow myself to think about it. I knew this was coming, but never expecting this fast. But it doesn't matter if you know what's coming, there is nothing that can prepare you for the utter finality that you feel. The tears I'd been continually holding back for a couple weeks finally burst forth with heaving sobs. My aunt Gerry was beside me holding onto me and telling me to let it out and my brother Steve standing above me with tears streaming down his cheeks. After I got a better grip on myself I asked if I could have the room to myself...I leaned over my mom telling her she was the best mom in the world and thanked her for giving us the best life any child could hope for.  I had to believe she could hear this.  I kissed her forhead. The last kiss. Then I left her room for the final time.    
                                                                             

Gerry told me later that night that as soon as I had let go of her hand and left the room she passed. I've since grappled with that, whether it was better I didn't see her take her last breath, or feeling like I should have been with her in her final moment. Gerry said she felt it was better that I didn't see it. I don't know, I guess I believe it was meant to be the way it happened.

Somehow I attended to all the arrangements with the funeral home, everything had a dream state quality to it.  The day before the viewing I struggled with myself, vacillating whether I really wanted to go...I wanted to remember her as she looked when I left her.. peaceful and beautiful.  But then I worried that if I didn't I may regret it.  I decided to go, but I waited until that last hour when I felt nobody would really be there.  I got to the door where she was. My brother Scottie and Mike, a friend who is like a brother to us were in with her. I got to the door and I started to go in circles, wanting to enter but not being able to. Scottie grabbed me and held me. I couldn't stay very long I knew. I knelt at the kneeler, shaking as I said a very cobbled prayer. I only looked briefly over her. Unreal, can't be, she's not there, just the suit she wore upon this earth. I said I love you Mom...then I had to go, but at the same time not wanting to go..so hard to realize this would be the last time I would ever look upon her. I felt like my legs weren't going to hold me... thankfully Allen and Scottie were with me and kept me up. 
                                                                                       

The day of the funeral was unbearable...I still don't know how I was able to keep myself stitched together as well as I did. Probably the worst and vivid memory of that day was just before the service we had gone to see my Dad's grave in the wall and next to it was my mom's with a black curtain on it, it took my breath away. So ominous, symbolic of the finality and downright creepy. I still have trouble believing they did or do this. Somehow I made it through the service, I held together through it without breaking down. It was not the service I wanted, it did not do justice of honoring her life and who she was.  There was acrimony on the part of our brother Steve and his wife which he did not hesitate to display, refusing to sit with my brothers and I. Casting such a pall over what was already total devastation. This only compounded my complete exhaustion through it all. There's much more to this where he was concerned and what he put all of us through, but I don't wish to even qualify it by going over it anymore.  Just ugly and painful.  And I was at the end of my strength to do battle with the nonsense. I find it pathetic. This was all too typical of how he had treated all of us at times through the years. It did not go unnoticed.  The saddest thing is, this to me was the brother who hung the moon when I was a little girl. I was disappointed, but determined to hold my head up as my Mother was honored in the simple private way she had wanted. When I found a fairly private moment after the service...the Priest helped me to put a note in my Mom's hands. He lifted the lid for me and placed the note in her hands. Then I left a kiss on the lid of her casket. 

Back at the house--so many people milling around, just a blur of faces and voices. I was not doing well with it, almost like I couldn't breath...it sounds so horrible but I just wanted these people to leave. It's not that I wasn't grateful for them, I was, I just needed to fall apart...the tears were so piled up behind my eyes and in my throat.  I was able to finally find a moment to get away in my mom's bedroom.  As I plopped myself onto her bed, there in front of me on her little TV table was a book I hadn't even seen from the funeral home sitting open, I glanced at the page and saw 70 yrs, 1 month and 20 days.  Too stark was this reality and the tears could not be held any longer.  A moment later my 15 yr. old niece came in and sat down next to me. She put her arm around me and said "it's going to be okay", trying to comfort me, and I thought no, it's never going to be okay. Then things got even weirder--as the next moment she dropped down off the bed onto her haunches in front of my mom's sliding mirror closet doors to check out her behind and whether her thong was showing above her waste band. Wow. I don't think I'll ever get past that one. I know this is typical teenage stuff, but dang--the day her granny was buried? Not even a speed bump! Oh how I wanted this day to be over. When they all had finally left that evening and just Larry, Allen and I were there I glanced at the living room...all the flowers from the funeral were stacked on the fireplace mantle.  I just could not believe it--how? How did we go from completely normal  just 3 weeks ago to mom not here and these funeral flowers all over?  The house felt so wrong, beyond empty and not even like home anymore. I didn't feel like me anymore. It was that way for a long time it seems.  I remember Allen wound up her Seven Dwarfs music box that night and it was more than I could take. I could see he was immediately sorry he did it. Everything had become strange and foreign...all of us were just sitting in bewilderment and desolation.
                                                                                         

It had all been such an unbelievable whirlwind, nightmare and the world so unreal,  I hadn't even begun to be able to process it all.  I didn't even realize the day after her funeral was Mother's Day.  I awoke that morning with a blade of fear that went through me like shards of ice. I was so shattered I couldn't even cry. The reality she was really really gone. No more hospital, no more doctors, nurses, counselors, funeral directors--I can't even call her. I remember I was face down on the mattress, the bright sun beaming through the blind when I wished it gray and raining and I said to myself..."well Stace, it's either get busy living or get busy dying".  
                                                                                      
The tears finally really broke loose about four days later.  I called Allen at work, knowing there was nothing he could do and I had what amounted to a mini nervous breakdown on the phone with him. A TOTAL meltdown. Something I had never experienced before.  I can only imagine the utter helplessness he was feeling listening to me hyperventilate and coming apart. Thankfully this was the only time this happened. It was just all so totally overwhelming. This was the day it really went bone deep and sank into my soul--this is for the rest of your life now Stace. You will never know a love like that again or give anyone that same twinkle in their eye. I have since been able to give myself a small pat on the back for the strength I was able to muster after this to handle and do all that was before me to be done.

Though my life has not really been right since. I had just turned 34 and I felt way too young to be an orphan. I have since tended to measure everything from that threshold. I miss her even more than my worst imaginings ever were. Time has lessened the intensity and acuteness of the pain, but it's always there. You just learn to walk with it. 

And things became so compounded when my oldest brother took his own life just 3½ months after mom's passing because of his overwhelming grief. One day I will write this story, in a future blog. He had lived at home with her all his life, and now his mom was not here...as well, the acrimony and animosity being pumped by our brother Steve over my mom's estate and decisions she made had Larry totally despondent. He wanted her wishes respected, but sadly Steve would not.  This was not a time to instigate divisions, but to all come together as Larry so wanted.  It was all too much for him to bear. This loss was colossal, and will always be. He was the gentlest soul you could ever know. And I know would have eased the deep grief and trials I have gone through all these years. The same week we buried our brother we discovered my Uncle Jimmie had lung cancer and he passed away 4 months later....and now it's dug it's way into this generation, my brother Scottie was diagnosed with lung cancer in 2011 and had the upper part of his left lung removed. I so hate cancer. 

                                                                               

So even though I'd been through so much loss growing up I still could not know or prepare for what the journey of grief is really like.  Just when I thought I was really getting better...well, life threw some real curveballs at us in the early 2000's as life tends to do...compounded by more betrayals than we could ever have imagined. Some still are not comprehendable, and never will be. Then another rash of deaths one upon another. All those who were our main support. It is just us now to lean on each other. To this day for both of us that desolation is always just under the surface. I discovered my grief really intensified again. I'm in the midst of working through it. And I realize now too, it's going to be like that, it will continue to ebb and flow till my time to leave this earthly coil comes. The longing. How many times the tears have flowed freely and I wished the impossible--that my mom was here to sooth my sore heart in only the way she could. But I feel she still does...I have sensed her presence a few times. 

The day I was diagnosed with Diabetes in 1998 and devastated at this news on top of the many other blows we had that year...this was definitely a time when you want your mom (Oh Lord how many of those times I've had since then). I had gone outside to wait while Allen took care of the paperwork and all of a sudden a squirrel came right up to my feet.  My mom loved squirrels...I knew it was her, telling me "it's going to be okay Stace".

My friend tells me, and I believe too, it's all part of our lessons on earth. I wish there were some easier lessons....And then I think of a story I once heard about a man who wanted to trade in his cross, his was too heavy to bear...and when he was taken to the room full of crosses, he saw that all the crosses in the room were bigger than his.

I thank God every day for my many blessings...most of all my wonderful soulmate hubby who has stood tirelessly beside me and loved me though it all.                  

The Rest Is Just Sand

A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him. When the class began, he wordlessly picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls. He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was.

The professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls. He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.

The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He asked once more if the jar was full.. The students responded with a unanimous ‘yes.’
                                                                                   

The professor then produced two Beers from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar effectively filling the empty space between the sand.The students laughed....

‘Now,’ said the professor as the laughter subsided, ‘I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life. The golf balls are the important things—-your family, your children, your health, your friends and your favorite passions—-and if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full. The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your house and your car.. The sand is everything else—-the small stuff.

‘If you put the sand into the jar first,’ he continued, ‘there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls. The same goes for life.

If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff you will never have room for the things that are important to you.

Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness.

Spend time with your children. Spend time with your parents. Visit with grandparents. Take your spouse out to dinner. Play another 18. There will always be time to clean the house and mow the lawn.

Take care of the golf balls first—-the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand.

One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the Beer represented. The professor smiled and said, ‘I’m glad you asked.’ The Beer just shows you that no matter how full your life may seem, there’s always room for a couple of Beers with a friend.

Beauty And Joy In Unexpected Places

Images Courtesy Of:  Castles Crowns and Cottages

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