The Visit

THE VISIT

 

I can’t get it out of my mind. I keep thinking about the dream I had last night.

 

With the illness I have; I usually have terrible nightmares, always waking up before I die, but to see my brother in my dream and be able to talk to him was bigger than anything I have experienced.

 

I am a thinker by nature so it is not unusual for me to have been pondering on how I made this dream happen. Can I make it happen again?

 

Alvin was healed. He was standing tall. He wasn’t crying and he didn’t act afraid of life. He smiled that big, familiar smile I always saw.

 

We talked. In my dream it didn’t seem like we chatted for a very lengthy period, before I woke up, but I remembered it and i still remember it.

 

I have definitely moved on since his passing. I have managed to hide my tears and sadness. I have laughed among friends. This is the part that has moved on.

 

There is an injured snail crawling inside my spirit though. The feelers come out when I am all alone and this is when it seems like only yesterday; I walked into his bedroom and found he had passed.

 

The dagger still punctures my soul and heart. The eyes well up instantly. I sit. I remember. I cry. I don’t think we ever truly get over the death of a loved one.

 

I don’t know if we ever heal completely. It is complete though. He was born. He lived. He passed. I think there is a bigger torture when there is no final stage of life.

 

When friends or family hurt us and it is never settled. That sword just keeps twisting and stabbing. The mind rolls over big hills and stumbles over boulders as we try to find peace that is now broken.

 

How do we go forward? How do we hide the memories of what once made us smile. How do we hide the tears in our daily living?

 

It is so difficult but this is something each of us has to deal with and lay to rest. God placed us here to send the message out to others about his love.

 

God gave us feelings so we can love and hurt and hug and smile and heal. God gave us ears so we can listen to his message, a body who can accept a hug from another person.

 

We must give these heavy burdens to God. We need to carry our faith in large baskets, and know that whatever the problem; God will carry us through it. We have to believe this.

 

Other wise, we will be injured creatures, walking this earth, thinking only of our pain. We will not be able to reach out to others who need us or are hurting.

 

This dream that I was honored to be a part of was a wonderful vision. A gift from God you might say. I have told God so many times how my life will never be the same, how much I miss my brother.

 

God showed me last night, in my dream, that no matter what pain I am going through in my waking hours, he is right there, holding my hand, guiding me and showing me his love.

 

Thank-you God, for allowing the visit to happen between me and my brother.

 

Written by,

Terry Shepherd

October, 15, 2018

https://youtu.be/8H9T7427EbI

Happy Mother’s Day

I made up my mind

That you weren’t the kind

To replace my real mom

i wanted you gone.

 

 

Years and years went by

Not a tear from my eye

Then one day I grew up

I knew I’d screwed up.

 

 

I started trying to stand

Understanding my hand

You didn’t have to be here

You could have turned a deaf ear.

 

 

Health issues you bore

I decided to spend even more

Time with you; while you healed

The layers we peeled.

 

 

Life seemed so much better

My heart light as a feather

Then the telephone rang

Life crashed with a bang.

 

 

You lay lifeless and cold

Your hand in mine I hold

God took you from me

My tears all could see.

 

 

I’m so glad I did change

God focused my range

I had the best mom of all

Oh how I wish I could call.

 

Written by,

Terry Shepherd

 

Happy Mother’s Day in heaven Mom.

The Truth Was Known

Four years ago at this time, I was not sleeping

I was tired and weeping

My brother in pain

Nothing to gain

Unless you were God.

 

 

Tired of fighting but not willing to give up

Multiple System Atrophy was winning

Take me! Take me! I thought

As I sat there watching him breathe

But God knew.

 

 

His heart and mine touched each other

He couldn’t speak but we both knew

His time here as my brother was ending

He didn’t cry, so I did it for him

And God knew.

 

 

In five days you will leave me

You will find peace and I shall be torn

You will stand tall and walk

I will be planning your funeral

God has his plan.

 

 

I make sure you understand I love you

On the 24th, I will release purple balloons

I will celebrate your release from the pain

But dear brother, my void still exists

God knows my pain.

 

Written by,

Terry Shepherd

03/19/2018

 

If you would like to let a purple balloon off on March 24th, in honor of my brother’s release from Multiple System Atrophy, please share a photo of you doing so. Thank-you

Daily Prompt/ One Word Prompt

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/conjure/

The word for today; Conjoure

con·jure

verb

1. 1.

   call upon (a spirit or ghost) to appear, by means of a magic ritual.

   “they hoped to conjure up the spirit of their dead friend”

 

Every day as I drove to work; my eyes gazed the old, white building.  Repeating thoughts arose. Who lived there? Why is it still abandoned? Doesn’t someone care?

The thoughts continually went back to my childhood where I wondered the same things about myself. Why did I live there? Why did they make me feel abandoned? Why didn’t they care?

I knew something was different by the age of three. When I tried expressing myself at that age, I was told to shut up. If I cried, they put me to bed. If they went out, I had a babysitter.

As I grew a little older, I learned to have imaginary friends with me at all times. There was Betsy. She was my favorite. She always greeted me with a big smile. She enjoyed my company and we played lots of games.

Then there was Betty Sue. She let me lay my head in her lap when I was tired or sad. She would run her fingers through my blonde, curly hair until I fell asleep or felt better.

Then there was Bobby. Sometimes Bobby scared me. I asked him different times to leave me alone; but he wouldn’t. He seemed to always show up when I was sitting around just thinking. It was like he could read my mind.

He would come into my room on a weird kind of looking sled. He would spin upside down and do tricks I could never do. He would show me visions of mazes and tell me about this old, white house that set right in the middle of the screen. I never recognized the house; but the paths of the maze felt familiar but confusing.

It was a Fall, crisp day. I had worked too many hours so was told to go home early and return on Monday. I was driving and saw the familiar site. I glanced at my watch. Yes, I have time. I am going to get this settled. I am going to find out the story within the walls.

I pulled up the dirt, curvy driveway. I turned off my engine and sat there looking dead on the white house. Quiet, quiet screamed all around me and yet there were these invisible fingers prodding at me saying, Come on little one. Step onto the porch steps. Learn the truth.

I took my keys out of the ignition.  I locked my purse inside the car. With keys in hand, I pulled my sweater a little closer to me. I walked slowly, one foot in front of the other, until I reached the first  porch step.

I turned back as if afraid of what I couldn’t see, but once again, those fingers prodding at my soul. I stepped onto that first step, then another and stepped onto the porch landing. The door slowly and creakily opened.

I could see a golden ray of light and without hesitation; I followed it. Once inside, my fears left. The prodding fingers disappeared. My soul felt lightened. There on the walls of this abandoned house were the answers to all of my questions.

Prayers Are Answered

Thanksgiving morning, the house was alive. Children running and yelling. Pillow fights, playing Tag, jumping up and over the furniture. Mom in the kitchen and dad hovering over her; telling her how to do this and that, although he didn’t have much practice at anything in the kitchen.
There was a small table with two chairs. The mom of the husband, the children’s grandmother, sat quietly at the table in the corner. Ellie drank her coffee and puffed on her cigarette. She was trying to go back in her own memories of this holiday and was wondering if these days too, were full of chaos.
She put her cigarette out and in a wispy voice asked, “Is there anything I can do to help, either of you?” No one replied. I am not sure if it was due to not being heard, or maybe just being ignored. Ellie cleared her throat and then stood up to her walker.
She was dressed still in her night clothes. She had a faded flannel, floor-length nightie on and an almost two tight faded, pink robe. She gathered the belt tighter as to hide herself and slowly walked towards the sink. “I said, is there anything I can do to help either of you? I’m not really doing anything and maybe I could set the table or get out the glasses.”
“Old lady, you have done enough. You harped and harped at us until we gave in and let you move you and your stuff in. You spend more time in your room smoking or you let our kids get by with shit when you are supposed to be babysitting and setting a good example. You are here for Thanksgiving aren’t you? You didn’t pitch in any money for this fine food we are going to have did you? No, I , no, we don’t need your help. Just go back to what you were doing, which is nothing.”
Ellie turned her head away as she felt the tears begin to fall. Those words cut to the bone. She didn’t want to move in with her family. She never wanted to become a burden to anyone. Tears fell faster as she turned and walked back to her little table. She remembered the days when she was beginning to get weak. She had fallen a few too many times and the ER finally admitted her for a broken hip. She was told in no uncertain terms, that she wasn’t going to be allowed to return to her home. She needed a place to go.
Ellie only had two children. One lived in Alaska and the other here in the next city from where Ellie had lived. Her husband had passed away a few years ago from cancer, and although she got lonely; she was doing fine on her own. No one seemed to want her as a permanent live-in, but she did end up here at her son’s home, and she guessed she would have to deal with it until the day she died. She hoped that would be soon.
Each morning before she put her feet on the cold floor, she thanked her God for a roof over her head, food to eat, and another chance at life. She also prayed for God to do something so she wouldn’t be a burden anymore to this family.
Some days she had visitors from her church she used to go to. They would drink coffee and chat about what was going on at the church or fill Ellie in on the town gossip. Although no one said anything, her friends noticed the tears. One time when her closest friend had come to visit, she saw it. It was black and blue, about the size of a fist. It was on her arm. Someone had harmed this woman, this friend of hers. It was probably that mean, old son, who only let her be here so he could spend her money.
Thanksgiving day left and the weather turned pretty cold. Snow fell and the ground was covered in pure white. At nights she stood at her walker, staring out at the snow. The moon making sparkles on the snow-covered tree branches. Sometimes she would hear a car pass, and they made a crunchy noise. She was glad she was inside, but she missed the winter’s crisp air.
It was a couple of weeks that had gone by since she saw her friends. Actually, it was getting real close to Christmas. The phone rang and her son yelled, “It’s for you old lady.” Ellie walked to the hall and picked up the phone. “Hello, this is Ellie.”
“Hello mam, my name is Robert T. Wagonor. I am a friend of your friend Betty. I go to the church sometimes and fill in for the minister. I was wondering if Betty and I could come pay you a visit.” Ellie liked visitors. “Yes, that would be real nice. When will you be coming?”
“At 1, right after lunch. Is this alright with you?”
“Yes, see you then.”
Ellie got herself her lunch and then went in and made herself as presentable as possible. She went out and sat on the couch awaiting her visitors. It wasn’t long before the knock at the door came. Seeing no one was going to let them in, she got up and walked to the door, opening it wide, saying, “Hello, welcome, come on in.” They followed her and waited for Ellie to sit, then sat across from her.
” I would like to get right to the point of our visit. It has come to my attention that this may not be the safest place for you to live. You deserve to be safe and happy. Can you tell me if our thoughts are wrong?” No one said a word. No one shook their head. ” The church has had some meetings and we have talked to people here in town who really care about the well-being of senior citizens. With the help of the city and private donations, we have been able to come up with enough money to pay your rent for the next six months. The place we are talking about is called, A Place Like Home. We want to take you there to visit and see what you think.” Ellie agreed and was helped with her coat, hat, gloves and boots on.
In less than half-an-hour, they were all sitting in a cozy living room. A fire was crackling in the fireplace. There were nice, soft chairs and rockers, a long sofa. There were plants sitting in the window’s light. Soft, lacy curtains covered the windows. It felt like home. Some of her friends from the church were there and Ellie learned they lived here all the time. It was less then four days when all finances were transferred to safer hands. It was less than four days when Ellie was sitting in one of the rockers, not smoking, drinking her tea, laughing with the other ladies. This place was her home. This place was like home. She rested her head back, listening to the others talk, and smiled. Thank-you God for fixing my problem.
Written from my heart,
Terry Shepherd.
God bless our Senior Citizens.

 

Guardian Angels

 

Today on Joyce Meyers program, the topic was guardian angels. I love listening to her, and I have said it over and over; I hope to go see her in person before I die. This would be a dream come true for me.

Anyways, I wonder if first of all; you believe in angels. I do, I certainly do. I ask the angels to surround my car when I go somewhere in it. I ask the angels to stay near my family and keep them safe. I ask the angels to surround the Multiple System Atrophy patients and caregiver, along with family. I ask God to send angels to everywhere high on earth who have highly-placed positions and bring them peace within so sound and true decisions can be made.

 

I believe there are angels who help me through each day, guiding me and gently holding me up.

 

What about you? Would you do any thing different on your day- to- day schedule if you knew for sure angels were watching and staying close to you? Would the curse words fade away?

 

What about the alcohol? Would you still consume it? Would you change anything about the way you treat your spouse or children, siblings or extended family? Would adultery become a thing of the past? Perhaps angels can help us get a better grip on our lives; if we only ask them.

 

Many do not believe in our almighty God. Some believe in another higher host and some believe in nothing.

This post is not to offend anyone or place anyone on the defense. This post is rather on angels. So tell me, what is your opinion? Yes you believe in angels, no you do not?

 

#God  #JoyceMeyers  #Angels  #Beliefs  #Wordpress

 

Angels

I am a short-story writer and a poet. If you would have an interest that you would like me to write about, please let me know.
I am now going to write about a topic on “Angels”. This idea comes from
Maria.

For months, Sherry was prayed for. She came down with an illness that not many doctors knew about. Sherry fought the diagnosis and continued to live her life on the wild side.

She drank and did drugs. She stayed out late at nights and often brought home strangers to keep her company during the nights.

Time flew by and so did the symptoms of her diagnosis. It got harder for Sherry to live the way she chose; but she continued the best she could.

There came a night when she left her familiar bar. It was late and had been raining for some time. When Sherry reached the wet pavement of the parking lot, her vision went blurry and she fell. She cracked her head hard.

While she lay there, three men came up and roughed her up and stole her purse and belongings. She couldn’t fight. Her mind was groggy. Her head was bleeding. She slipped in and out of alertness.

She sometimes thought she saw angels flying around her head. They were so beautiful, she thought. Light as air, huge, white, delicate wings. Then she would become alert and feel her pain.

What seemed hours, but less than a half-an-hour, the sirens were heard and soon she was lifted into the EMS. The ride was quick. The attendants were giving her oxygen, and had poked her arm with a needle. They were talking among each other and into speakers of some kind.

She was taken into the ER and placed on a clean, white table. She heard the men talking. “I don’t think she will make it, but let’s start a line on her. Check that blood pressure. How’s it doing?”

She closed her eyes and saw the most beautiful light. There were those angels again. She smiled to herself, as the angels swooped down and carried her home.

Written by,
Terry Shepherd

 

Each Day We Must be Positive

I wish every day was like today. I had so much energy; I felt like my old self. I rearranged my living room, watered my plants, cleaned the hamster cage and swept. I admit, tonight I have some sore muscles, but I do know what it is from; today.

What is the magic ingredient I added today to be so active? If I only knew, I could cure everyone. I have no idea. I will have to just be thankful for a good day.

Tomorrow after six long months, I go to the dentist for my final fitting of my false teeth on the bottoms. I spent last year doing the same with the uppers. I will be glad it will be finally over.

For three hours tomorrow I will have no bottom teeth, while the dentist makes that final fitting with a much lighter-fitting plate. I should like that. To be quite honest, I hate both of them. The set still feels like I have something too big in my mouth, but my original teeth were bad. Every time I ate, I had to use floss to pick out every fiber of food or I would be in so much pain.

The gums had been receding for some time and the roots were starting to show. I am thankful for no pain any longer. The most embarrassing thing I endure from these babies, is biting into a sandwich. The  uppers begin to slip and I have to form my muscles around them and hold them in place. ( I can’t stand the gummy stuff to hold dentures in, I gag) Pain in my rear, but better than eating liquids the rest of my life.

Friday, I go to my brother’s neurologist and hopefully, I will be told I do not have MSA; just Parkinson’s. The neuro is very smart about MSA and would you believe he examined my brother once and diagnosed him with MSA?

Multiple System Atrophy is a rare disease that is neurological. It breaks all ties during the illness of nerves going from the brain to action. Eventually you end up with a frozen shell, who is very much alive inside. There is no cure. The life span is an average of seven years.

I teach Hospice groups about MSA and I am an advocate for the disease. On my Facebook page, I am very active with caregivers, patients and families. I so wish I could do more, but at this point I don’t know what. I would give my left arm to be able to afford to go to one of the National meetings MSA holds within the U.S., but it takes money to get there and money to spend the night.  My biggest hope ever is to meet a woman is has this disease, but carries herself high and has been a close friend of mine ever since my brother began his journey with MSA. Her name is Bonnie. I want to meet her so bad. She is from Canada, but does make trips here to the U.S.A. Perhaps someday, my dream will become a reality.

My Gift From God

When we wish upon that star

And we think with all our might

We hope that God or angels

Grant our wish tonight.

 

There is so much to achieve

For me upon this earth

I believe with all my heart

This is my gift since birth.

 

I am poor as poor can be

But helping others dream

Makes me the richest of all man-kind

I actually burst from inner seams.

 

A kind word I can lend

A question answered too

Helps others have less fear

It’s what I’m here to do.

Written by,

Terry Shepherd

The Very Special Gifts for my Birthday

This past Friday was my birthday. I won’t admit to my age because my mind isn’t in alignment with the numbers yet. My daughter-in-law took me to  lunch. We went to Pizza Hut. I always have the buffet and try to only have one slice of pizza along with my heaping salad. My daughter came from out of state for my birthday, and my other son had a cook-out and bonfire planned for me.

Going back in time, three years in fact, my brother had a beautiful Peace Lily delivered to his funeral. I have nurtured it for these three years and enjoyed its company too. Where I lived the past year, was a strain on this special plant. The water and lack of natural light took their toll and at the end of the lease; I had to say goodbye to the plant with a couple of falling tears.

I prayed about this. I know, it sounds silly to pray about a plant; but this plant was a surreal connection to my brother. I could see it, not just vision it. I ask God to please replace the plant and I would dedicate it silently to my brother.

For my birthday, only a month after I had to dissolve Al’s plant, I received the same type of plant from my one son and family. It is beautiful and much, much bigger. It came with one big, white lily opened.

Also on my birthday, along with the many well-wishes on Facebook and from my children, I was leaving my door to go to the elevator, and there in the dead center of the long hallway was something that I knew without a doubt, was a birthday wish from my brother. It was three, heads-up, pennies. You know how I know it was from him? Because each penny was aligned perfect in length and width. It was exactly how he lined up his Hot Wheel cars when he was a child. There was no way, I could miss that as I walked. I picked them up and placed them in a special drawer.

This year, I had an extra special blessing and I thank my children and God for my gifts.

 

Hello Dear Brother

Hello Dear Brother

I ride your scooter, you probably know
I use the walker, like you did bro.
I have a cane as you did too
Sometimes dear brother, I see me in you
You had an illness called MSA
Maybe I have it, some docs say
I have your Parkinson’s, no doubt of that
I tend to fall just like your past
People say this can’t be passed on to me
But my symptoms are very hard to flee
If you hadn’t gone to heaven so soon
We could share these scenes without the doom
I’m going to see your neurologist
The one who gave the song of bliss
He’ll ask me questions that he asked you
I’ll remember your answers that rang so true
I sometimes feel better because I know
You’re walking with me, every step I go
I feel so close to you these days
Because I resemble your MSA ways.
I love you brother, stay near me now
Because it is possible I’ll have to take that vow
To keep strong, and hold onto my faith
Just the way I made you when you paved your way
I’ll ask our God to guide me through
Just like the way I prayed for you.
And if the day comes I have to leave
Keep your promise and save a seat for me.

Written by,
Terry Shepherd