Daily Archives: September 17, 2013
BURNED BISCUITS – MEMORIES OF HOME
If It Feels Good, Just Do It
You probably don’t realize because all you read from me anymore is sadness, but I hate it. I hate giving you my grief and my sadness.
Shouldn’t a writer be able to transfer himself into another pair of shoes and write from their angle? Shouldn’t I pick-up on the wonderful posts that are heavily perfumed with happy signs?
I laugh when I read Maxine. She is hysterical. For a few moments I forget where I am and get in her mind of laughter.
Or I would like to post about the wonderful day I had today. A day at the park. Watching kids swimming and running. Playing in the sand.
Or maybe I should be out in my favorite store looking over the huge clearance racks.
I want to, I really do. But my mind and body are tired when I think of getting in my car. Heading out to where people are. I see them chatting, lovers holding hands, eating together at restaurants. And the crowds of people mulling around the clothes racks and I just can’t deal with it.
I love God. I believe in him, but I am lacking. I still think of my own feelings. Maybe I don’t weigh heavily like I should on his word. Maybe I am too selfish or too human. Maybe I can’t move forward or behind.
It feels like I am stuck right in the middle. My life is moving around me. I am the one in the middle watching it go without me and yet my feet are frozen to the ground. I am too full of what is happening in my own walls.
I try to move out, I try to move ahead, but it is difficult. Without your prayers Lord only knows where I would be. There are parts of me that just want this over. Slam the door shut. Write the chapter out, close the book, but I can’t, or don’t know how.
I know that yesterday when I took my memory trip I realized that this town I live in has nothing but sadness written all over it. My parents are from here and they are gone to heaven now.
Family that I loved and trusted are no longer in my life and they are too close in distance, and my heart is too delicate.
I am not into sports so there are no ballgames for me to attend, my choice, of course. I don’t swim because the lakes are too unsafe anymore. My best g/f lives out-of-town, and my daughter is out-of-state.
Now don’t for one second think I am on my own pity trip here, because I am not. I am sorting things in my mind. Finding priorities that make me smile. Doom and gloom have filled my heart and soul for so long.
I need to break a way. My life will change when Al is no longer here. And I say that lightly because if God wants me this moment, I will be gone before him. I can’t live like this if he goes before me.
I can’t keep digging the hole of sorrow deeper, I will drown. I knew yesterday that some parts of my sadness are brought on by myself. I make my life what it is. So I have made a decision. I don’t care how much money I have or don’t have. I am not staying here.
It was great when family was here. It was wonderful when family spoke. But now, it is a terrible place for me to live. I want to move a way. Move to where the sun shines more and snow is less. I want to be where I am wanted. I want to see tons of trees and hilly land. I want to be where people talk whether I am a stranger or friend. I will move. This is my goal, my yearning. I need to live, breathe, laugh and love again, and in this city there are too many memories to do this. I want to start writing a new chapter in my book of life.
I feel better now. It is out of my head and onto paper. Have any of you ever felt like this and made the jump? Made a change that not all agree with but you agree with it. It feels good, just do it!
BURNED BISCUITS – MEMORIES OF HOME
A Day of Drifting
I keep telling myself and you, my friends, that a particular day is Al and my worst day. But alas, I always seem to be in shock and amazed at how a new day can be filled with lack of words, too many emotions and numb feelings.
Knowing my brother was going to Hospice House for the second time. Another attempt at slowing down those terrible tremors scares me. These active tremors according to the doctors are what will end up making his heart become so tired that it stops. We all realize by now that curing tremors with M.S.A. is not feasible. Maybe slowing them down for a few days, yes, but not permanently. The only real way to almost stop the tremors at this stage is too slow Al’s body to almost a halt, and this is what scares the hell out of me.
Yesterday I had to go have my meeting with Hospice and Al. This is where I learned he was going back to the Hospice House. After I left there the numbing medicine was already kicking in.
I somehow drove myself to the pharmacy and went inside and picked up Al’s medications. It was lunch time and I sat down for a bite to eat. I did the mechanical chewing but I tasted nothing. I said hello and gave my programmed smile but heard nothing of those who stopped by to chat.
After paying my bill I sat in my car. The engine was running but I didn’t know where to go. I didn’t want to go home as I knew once there I would have to start packing my brother’s clothes.
I ended up letting the car take me where ever. Here are some photos I snapped along my mindless trip.
This is where my brother goes to Day Program.
This is Christy, my brother’s Hospice nurse. She is so nice and takes so much time and care with him.
This is Chuck. He is Al’s Social Worker through Hospice. Any issues Al has from his illness Chuck tries his hardest to make accommodations for him.
This is one of the many Zimmer Orthopedic buildings. You can’t see it now but before this building was here there used to sit a very old brick building on a big hill. I sled there many times in the winter and it also housed my old Junior High School.
This is where I used to go to Elementary School These kids remind me of myself as a child as we lined up getting ready to go back in from recess. The door that they are entering didn’t used to be there. There used to be a big porch with a roof over it. I have a photo somewhere of me standing out in my little ruffled dress with a little graduation cap on and my red velvet graduation certificate. Oh the memories.
This photo of the city park used to house a tall brick old building known as the Special Education School. There was no grass to play in. The school took the entire block and was paved cement on all four sides. This is where my brother went to school in primary days.
This is my beloved parents. I stopped by to tell them I have done the best I can with their son, my brother, and sooner than I want he will be coming home.
This is the peaceful scene that you feel as you leave the cemetery.
And of course this is my brother and Rhino our cat. Rhino has now deserted me and sits by Al’s door missing his buddy. I keep telling the cat, he will be home soon, he will be home soon.