Life is a beautiful thing. Even when there are painful times, life is still a beautiful thing. But with life, comes death. With death, comes a time to mourn.
There are so many ways to mourn. Some people hold it in. Some cry for days. Some get sick. Some people do not even acknowledge the death of a loved one. So many different ways.
I guess it depends on the person.
Take me for instance. The first time I really remember mourning was when my mom passed away. I was almost 17 yrs old. First I had the warning. My big brother told me on a Sunday that my mom would not be coming home from the hospital. We were doing dishes at the time. I finished doing the dishes, then went next door to my best friend's house. She answered the door and could tell something was wrong. I blurted out that my mom was dying. She was there for me. For the next couple of weeks my appetite was off. (Which was good. I could definitely afford to lose a few pounds! Lol.) Anyway, she died that Friday. We had the viewing on the following Tuesday, then the Memorial Service the following Saturday. There were times I had to be by myself. Once we were going through my mom's stuff. All of a sudden, I jumped up and went to my closet. I hid there. My big brother was going to come after me, but my younger brother told him to leave me alone. Even now, 29 yrs later, I still have little episodes of mourning my mom.
Then one of my bosses died. I was especially close to him. He was kind of like a dad. I found out that the ambulance was at his house, so I drove over there. When I got there, a friend shook his head at me, letting me know my boss had passed away. I went in and hugged the wife, a very dear, sweet lady. When I left there, I immediately drove to my youngest daughter's dad's house. He asked what was up and I just started bawling. He held me while I cried. I miss him. He was a good boss and friend.
A friend of mine had a toddler who died. A precious little girl. I was fine until the day of the service. Before the service started I walked outside for a bit. My daughter's dad was with me and I cried. I cried for the parents. I cried because a precious little child died so young. I hurt for that young mother.
One of my nieces died. It was a shock. She had an aneurysm. I don't cry at funerals, but seeing my sister's pain nearly did me in. I told her I can handle anything except seeing her cry. That just tears me up.
Today I am mourning the loss of my dad. I was warned that it could be soon. Two days later he died. That happened eight days ago. When I first heard the news on the phone, I cried. My hubby was there and he held me. (That was very comforting. I am so glad he was there when I heard.) After that, I thought I was fine. Ha. Little did I know! When I told my supervisor, I choked up. Each person I've told since, I tear up. If I talk about his DEATH, I now start to cry. Believe it or not, I am not a "cryer". I don't like sympathy because it will make me cry more.
I realize that tears can bring healing, but finding the time and place to do it.... Well, that's the issue! I can tell you when and where NOT to do it. That would be at the office!!! We will not discuss that!!
Anyway, the memorial service isn't until April 4th. I believe that having the service will give closure. I just hope I am not a complete basket case by then!
I am thankful for family and friends who are loving me and praying me through this. I am most thankful to my God who put these people in my life. I AM BLESSED.
God Painted a Pretty Picture
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
My Dad
For two weeks I kept telling myself, "I need to call Dad." But, then I would forget. I never made that call. Then on Sunday, March 13th, my step-sister called. When Pam calls, it's not good news. She told me that Dad's health was deteriorating. In the past two weeks he had been in the hospital, then in a nursing home, then the hospital, then the nursing home. He had been living at home with my step-mom caring for him up until TWO WEEKS AGO.
Why did I capitalize "two weeks ago"? Because, for two weeks I had been telling myself I needed to call Dad, but didn't. I believe God stopped me from calling Dad because Dad wasn't at home. My step-mom wouldn't have been home to answer the calls, or might have been too flustered to talk. To top it all off, my step-mom (and step-sister) came down with the flu during this same time period.
Anyway, back to that call. Pam said it wasn't looking good. Dad's heart was only 15% alive, you see. Plus, he was 80 years old. He had Alzheimers. When I said my step-mom had been caring for him, I meant: she had been caring for him. Doing everything for him, basically. Dad had gotten sick, then he had a little heart attack. So, it wasn't looking good. It could be anytime....
Pam and I talked about Dad. I told her that Dad had been blessed. He married a wonderful lady (her mom) who absolutely adored Dad and made him happy. Dad had his four biological children, whom he loved very much, plus three step-daughters, who loved him and whom he loved. He lived longer than HIS dad did. Also longer than his brother did. Pam reminded me that he lived thirty years after his quadruple bypass. Plus he had a triple bypass after that, and I don't know what, or how many other, procedures.
I said my step-mom adored Dad. She did. Mary praised my dad. She said he was a good, honorable, loving, kind man. She refused to hear anyone speak against Dad. She said he was the best patient. So good. So happy. She loved my dad.
My dad. Daddy. My parents divorced when I was very young. Dad wasn't home much before then because he was in the Navy. I have very few memories of him at home. I do remember one. I was brushing his hair with my brush! My favorite story that my mother told me was one that took place when I was six weeks old.
I was born with bilateral club feet. To "fix" my feet, they had to break them and then put casts on them. It took my mom, my sister and two nurses to hold me down. I was 6 weeks old!! Anyway, after a very tiring evening at the doctor's office, Mom pulls into the driveway. The lights in the house are on, which surprises Mom. My dad stepped out of the house. I think my mom said she started crying. Either my sister or my brother was holding me. My dad reached out his arms, my sibling put me in his arms. I woke up and looked at him with (as my mother put it) my big brown eyes and my dad said, "How's my little princess?". I smiled. I believe that was the first time we met because my dad was on board the USS Ticonderoga when I was born.
As I said, my parents divorced when I was very young. I missed my daddy. When he came to pick us up for a visit, I would run to him. I always wanted to hold his hand. I sooooo loved my daddy. And I missed him. I didn't know him very well, but, I missed him. I wanted my daddy. I used to cry at night for my daddy. I didn't get to see him very often. When I became a teenager, I really wanted to live with my dad. Things weren't that great at home. But it didn't happen. Then my mom got cancer. Close to the end, she asked me to live with my brother when she died, not with my dad. I promised. Besides, I was going to be a Senior in High School.
So, when Dad asked me to come live with him, I said no. Years later I found out that he cried after he left. That hurts. Also, years later, I found out that he was going to try to get custody of us, but was stopped. I'm not going to go into why he didn't fight.... This little blog is not to bash anyone.
I did visit him after I "grew up". Several times. Each time I got to know him, and my step-mom, better. I so enjoyed visiting them. I also enjoyed seeing the love they shared. The visits were always wonderful. Dad visited us, in Texas, once on his own. Another time, he and Mary came to visit. We all enjoyed both of those visits.
In December 2009 my dad had a heart attack. We thought we were going to lose him. I wanted to go see him, but things were tight. My hubby suggested I try to win a trip from KSCS. So, I entered the contest and said why I wanted to fly to Arizona to see my dad. I received a phone call from Hawkeye and Terry Dorsey of KSCS. I won a trip. I am sooo glad I did. I saw my dad and step-mom at Christmas. Dad actually got better. He was able to go home. Yay!!
I would call Pam and/or Mary occasionally to check on Dad and Mary. Pam has been wonderful. Honestly. She has her own family to care for, but she has been such a blessing and a help for Dad & Mary. Mary should be super proud to have Pam for a daughter.
Today I kept looking at my cell phone while I was at work. I kept expecting a phone call. I just had that "feeling". This evening after supper my phone rang, but it was "Name Withheld". So, I didn't answer it. Then I listened to the voicemail. It was Pam, asking me to call. I immediately called her and she gently told me that Dad had passed away, quietly, peacefully, in his sleep. She told me how sorry she was. Bless her heart, she was hurting as much, if not more than I was! Dad actually passed away a litte after midnight. They were supposed to call her immediately, but waited until morning. She didn't want to call me at work. She wanted me to be home, where I could have privacy, so she waited until this evening to call.
My daddy, Robert Eugene Meyer, passed away. He is resting. Asleep. At peace.
Born: May 7, 1930. Died: March 15, 2011.
Why did I capitalize "two weeks ago"? Because, for two weeks I had been telling myself I needed to call Dad, but didn't. I believe God stopped me from calling Dad because Dad wasn't at home. My step-mom wouldn't have been home to answer the calls, or might have been too flustered to talk. To top it all off, my step-mom (and step-sister) came down with the flu during this same time period.
Anyway, back to that call. Pam said it wasn't looking good. Dad's heart was only 15% alive, you see. Plus, he was 80 years old. He had Alzheimers. When I said my step-mom had been caring for him, I meant: she had been caring for him. Doing everything for him, basically. Dad had gotten sick, then he had a little heart attack. So, it wasn't looking good. It could be anytime....
Pam and I talked about Dad. I told her that Dad had been blessed. He married a wonderful lady (her mom) who absolutely adored Dad and made him happy. Dad had his four biological children, whom he loved very much, plus three step-daughters, who loved him and whom he loved. He lived longer than HIS dad did. Also longer than his brother did. Pam reminded me that he lived thirty years after his quadruple bypass. Plus he had a triple bypass after that, and I don't know what, or how many other, procedures.
I said my step-mom adored Dad. She did. Mary praised my dad. She said he was a good, honorable, loving, kind man. She refused to hear anyone speak against Dad. She said he was the best patient. So good. So happy. She loved my dad.
My dad. Daddy. My parents divorced when I was very young. Dad wasn't home much before then because he was in the Navy. I have very few memories of him at home. I do remember one. I was brushing his hair with my brush! My favorite story that my mother told me was one that took place when I was six weeks old.
I was born with bilateral club feet. To "fix" my feet, they had to break them and then put casts on them. It took my mom, my sister and two nurses to hold me down. I was 6 weeks old!! Anyway, after a very tiring evening at the doctor's office, Mom pulls into the driveway. The lights in the house are on, which surprises Mom. My dad stepped out of the house. I think my mom said she started crying. Either my sister or my brother was holding me. My dad reached out his arms, my sibling put me in his arms. I woke up and looked at him with (as my mother put it) my big brown eyes and my dad said, "How's my little princess?". I smiled. I believe that was the first time we met because my dad was on board the USS Ticonderoga when I was born.
As I said, my parents divorced when I was very young. I missed my daddy. When he came to pick us up for a visit, I would run to him. I always wanted to hold his hand. I sooooo loved my daddy. And I missed him. I didn't know him very well, but, I missed him. I wanted my daddy. I used to cry at night for my daddy. I didn't get to see him very often. When I became a teenager, I really wanted to live with my dad. Things weren't that great at home. But it didn't happen. Then my mom got cancer. Close to the end, she asked me to live with my brother when she died, not with my dad. I promised. Besides, I was going to be a Senior in High School.
So, when Dad asked me to come live with him, I said no. Years later I found out that he cried after he left. That hurts. Also, years later, I found out that he was going to try to get custody of us, but was stopped. I'm not going to go into why he didn't fight.... This little blog is not to bash anyone.
I did visit him after I "grew up". Several times. Each time I got to know him, and my step-mom, better. I so enjoyed visiting them. I also enjoyed seeing the love they shared. The visits were always wonderful. Dad visited us, in Texas, once on his own. Another time, he and Mary came to visit. We all enjoyed both of those visits.
In December 2009 my dad had a heart attack. We thought we were going to lose him. I wanted to go see him, but things were tight. My hubby suggested I try to win a trip from KSCS. So, I entered the contest and said why I wanted to fly to Arizona to see my dad. I received a phone call from Hawkeye and Terry Dorsey of KSCS. I won a trip. I am sooo glad I did. I saw my dad and step-mom at Christmas. Dad actually got better. He was able to go home. Yay!!
I would call Pam and/or Mary occasionally to check on Dad and Mary. Pam has been wonderful. Honestly. She has her own family to care for, but she has been such a blessing and a help for Dad & Mary. Mary should be super proud to have Pam for a daughter.
Today I kept looking at my cell phone while I was at work. I kept expecting a phone call. I just had that "feeling". This evening after supper my phone rang, but it was "Name Withheld". So, I didn't answer it. Then I listened to the voicemail. It was Pam, asking me to call. I immediately called her and she gently told me that Dad had passed away, quietly, peacefully, in his sleep. She told me how sorry she was. Bless her heart, she was hurting as much, if not more than I was! Dad actually passed away a litte after midnight. They were supposed to call her immediately, but waited until morning. She didn't want to call me at work. She wanted me to be home, where I could have privacy, so she waited until this evening to call.
My daddy, Robert Eugene Meyer, passed away. He is resting. Asleep. At peace.
Born: May 7, 1930. Died: March 15, 2011.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
My brain
Despite all beliefs to the contrary, I do have a brain. I have had 2 MRI's done. One was done in 1994, the other was done in 2008. The doctors confirmed what I saw on the MRI film. I have a brain. Now as to whether or not I use that brain... well, that's up to me!
Lately, though, I haven't been able to use my brain. I think I overloaded it. There is so much in there, and it is apparently pea-size, so it tends to snarl up as though a rat made a nest in it. Seriously. Have you heard me speak?! Words do not come out right, or do not come out at all. I'm searching for words. Thankfully, I have people around me who are able to fill in the blanks when I can't latch onto the word out that I'm looking for.
Do you have any idea how frustrating that is? I am used to having a creative mind. One that could write letters or stories or poems. One that could fill in the blanks for others. Never at a loss for words!
Then there are those times that my brain is going ninety to nothing and all of a sudden I think "I need to write all of this down RIGHT NOW because if I don't, it will be gone and lost forever!" Guess what? As soon as I grab pen and paper, it's gone.
What do I want to start blogging about? My love for my family. My love for God. My love for the Bible. My thoughts on verses in the Bible. Different things.... Things that frustrate me because of the injustice... I actually do have a list started. Subjects:
1. Who would Jesus be friends with?
2. Caffeine.
3. Hagar.
4. Prison Ministry.
5. Parent/Friend.
I thought of these as I drove down the road. I wrote them on a piece of paper. I can't believe I can read what I wrote. Hey... at least I wasn't texting...
I just read what I wrote "There is so much in there".... I am laughing. That sounds so, I don't know, conceited? I meant I have a lot on my mind. All of the time.
There is one thing I always have on my mind. I AM BLESSED.
Keep Smiling!! :)
Lately, though, I haven't been able to use my brain. I think I overloaded it. There is so much in there, and it is apparently pea-size, so it tends to snarl up as though a rat made a nest in it. Seriously. Have you heard me speak?! Words do not come out right, or do not come out at all. I'm searching for words. Thankfully, I have people around me who are able to fill in the blanks when I can't latch onto the word out that I'm looking for.
Do you have any idea how frustrating that is? I am used to having a creative mind. One that could write letters or stories or poems. One that could fill in the blanks for others. Never at a loss for words!
Then there are those times that my brain is going ninety to nothing and all of a sudden I think "I need to write all of this down RIGHT NOW because if I don't, it will be gone and lost forever!" Guess what? As soon as I grab pen and paper, it's gone.
What do I want to start blogging about? My love for my family. My love for God. My love for the Bible. My thoughts on verses in the Bible. Different things.... Things that frustrate me because of the injustice... I actually do have a list started. Subjects:
1. Who would Jesus be friends with?
2. Caffeine.
3. Hagar.
4. Prison Ministry.
5. Parent/Friend.
I thought of these as I drove down the road. I wrote them on a piece of paper. I can't believe I can read what I wrote. Hey... at least I wasn't texting...
I just read what I wrote "There is so much in there".... I am laughing. That sounds so, I don't know, conceited? I meant I have a lot on my mind. All of the time.
There is one thing I always have on my mind. I AM BLESSED.
Keep Smiling!! :)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)