Need Your Help Again

I have this issue going on so I want to ask for your advice. I also have some information for you also.

The first being Al. I am learning that the days are becoming a little more confusing for him. A good example is this morning. He brushed his teeth after breakfast. I then placed his electric razor in his hand and asked him if he would please try to shave and I would help if he needed it.

He said he already shaved. I said, “no, you just brushed your teeth.”

After a minute of trying to explain he was crying and arguing. I then took the razor and began to shave him. Then he wanted the shaver back and he tried it. It was like something clicked and he realized he hadn’t previously shaven.

This is one example of what is happening here. Last night is another good example. He has terrible tremors and many times he and I have done hands on with changing the channels. Many times I have shown him which buttons he is allowed to use etc.

As he was changing the stations the remote went funky on the inside. No more switching, no nothing. I worked at it for about 20 minutes, frustrated because I didn’t know which button he had already pushed to mess up the remote.

I finally called Dish. After walking through commands and nothing happened, the staff decided it was definitely the remote. This morning a technician is coming out to fix whatever is wrong.

After I hung up from Dish Al went on a rampage of him hitting the wrong buttons. This is because it is usually the case. I explained that this time he did nothing, it was all in the remote.

He cried,  he wailed he started getting mad. Mad at himself and I think mad at me because I was telling him it was not his fault. This went on for some time and I could not reason with him so I left his bedroom.

I went back later and offered to take him out to the couch to watch the main TV so he could watch his shows he liked. At first he refused, on the kick of he did something wrong. I was actually starting to get a headache, letting me know that two arguments in one evening were not doing my blood pressure any good.

Finally I convinced him he had three choices. Watch the TV in  his room with one station and be limited on viewing, go to bed, or come out to the living room. He did let me bring him out here with me.

This is happening more and more. I blame the confusion but I also know from years of experience Al is a persistent arguer. I can pop a calming down pill in him or wait for him to reason things in his own  mind.

Part of me thinks if I pop a pill every time he is confused or gets upset he will be living on these pills.

What should I do? How can I handle this differently as the mind of Al becomes more ill?


100_0749The second part is the talks of Al and his funeral. He is becoming obsessed with who is not going to be at his funeral. It is also a familiar topic in our home now a days.

I feel guilty because my mind often drifts to the future, thinking on his funeral. I kick myself for doing this. It makes me feel like I am focusing on his death instead of his living. I am not actually, but I do ponder the more he brings it up.

I was talking to a friend here at WP about the topic of cards. I was wondering if it would be proper if I ever have to make that sad announcement to my friends here would it be alright to let you know our home address in case anyone wanted to send cards.

She suggested I not wait for that gloomy day. That since Al is having issues about who will or not be at his funeral that I suggest Thinking of You, or Wishing You Well, etc. cards be sent now while he is here to enjoy them.

So I thought that was a good idea. I guess what it comes down to friends is that I really do consider you my friends. Just not people in  passing, but friends who are involved with Al and my life. I would want to let you know if something happened to Al. I don’t look at any of you as,oh they are just WP friends. Nothing more or less. No, I look at you as part of my life, part of Al’s life.

Al still has his birthday card, and sometimes he will ask me to get them out so he can look at them and hold them.

So I think I am asking you, would you like to send Al a card now?

If so, please email me at

I will be more than happy to send you our home address. If you go by another name through your emails that I may  not recognize, please put Al’ card in the subject area of your email so I don’t consider it trash or spam.

What We Think

I was so busy today. Two doctor’s appointments, one for Al and one for me. Running errands for Al here and there. I am beat. Another reason I am beat is for the last two nights Al has slept for about five hours each night.

I want to apologize for not doing what I enjoy and commenting and liking your posts today. I just can’t do it. I am too exhausted and am praying for an early sleep.

Last night Al was having a rough night. Not with the illness itself, but with the mental part of understanding of his illness.

He evidently had been pondering on his funeral. He was asking me questions and I was answering the best I could. Then he started crying and was actually getting upset. He started getting mad at our Aunt in Florida and our half-sister.

The conversation went pretty much like this.

” This illness is going to take my life and no one cares. I fight and fight and I can’t get it to go a way. One of these days I am going to lay in a casket. Who is going to be at my funeral? I bet Aunt Mary won’t be there. She don’t like me. She wouldn’t come see me when we were in Florida. She never sends you letters through your computer. She never calls me. She don’t like me. I bet she don’t even remember who I am. Do you think Julie will come? Julie doesn’t care about me either. You told her I was sick and she doesn’t come see me. Do you think she will be at my funeral?”

This is a good part of the conversation I heard last night. He was really crying and I think he really wishes his aunt and sister would come to his funeral. He told me no one would be there but me.

I told him all of us would be there. I told him everyone from his old work place would be there and his church. I told him that it would be one of the biggest funerals I have ever been too.

I don’t know what or butterflieswill be there, but I do know when I told him it would be a big funeral and so many there would be just for him, he seemed to settle a little. The tears went from gushing to a slow stream.

Al must be doing a lot of thinking. It feels strange because he is having good days again but yet his mind is on his death.

My Own Death Becomes Me

I admit that I think about death and the there after too much. It is hard not to when I am constantly surrounded by people who deal with it. When I am told that Al is really sick. There will come a time when death will be the last thing I think of. Instead I will be thinking, beach, cabins, love and sunshine.

So thus stating this; you will understand my next sentences. I was laying in bed last night. My body ached, so I lie on my back. Suddenly my mind saw a casket.coffin It was my casket. I was imagining what my own funeral would be like.

How would I look to others?

Would there be make-up plastered on my face so I was unrecognizable. What would I be wearing? What clothes would my children pick out for me?

I imagined how comfortable I would be stretched out in my tight-fitting box. Do you think the casket companies can make these in an extra-wide, like they do in shoe sizes? I have a few layers of fat that roll to the side when I lay on my back.

I even noticed that my once perky boobs were now fallen to the side; although my stomach did look flatter.

I practiced positioning myself in my bed as I would be sewn together to stay in place in my casket. I placed my hands over my stomach and closed my eyes. Head facing the ceiling I lay there for only a few moments when I started getting a headache.

I realized than that I can not be buried like the conventional person. I must have changes made for my own personal comfort. When I pictured how it should be I saw a whole different scene play out.

First of all, let’s kick off that granny, print dress.granny dress Let’s change that formal look to one I am more comfortable in. Let’s throw on some shorts and Tees.dukes Let’s get rid of that hair spray and stiff hair that smells of old age and throw in some casual soft

Get that thick make-up off of me and just let me be myself, natural. I like a look that you will have no doubt in who I am.

Now take me off my back. After all I don’t want to have to order that extra wide coffin.

And the headaches have got to go. Lay me on my side. Let me prop my head on my arm which is tucked under my pillow.

Get rid of that tiny satin pillow and give me the one I have slept with for so long. After all, this is going to be a long nap I am taking.pillow

Now I want my bible tucked towards the side of my arm. I like to rest my hand on it as I fall asleep.

Make sure you put a couple of cartons of smokes and a few lighters beside me. Just sort of hide them. There may be non-smokers at my funeral and I don’t want to gross them out. I know, they are bad for me, but I have some bad habits, don’t you?

Next, but not last, is the flowers. Make sure I am surrounded by beautiful flowers. No roses please. I am terribly allergic to roses. If I start sneezing and I rise and look around and see those flowers, I will know I have an enemy somewhere in here.rose

Instead just bring some pretty plants and some Lillilyys. I love Lily flowers.

Let’s not have any of that sad organ music. Instead let’s have some of my old-time favorites. My favorite group to listen to when I was a teen was The Carpenters.carpenters

Let’s not cry please. I won’t be providing any tissues. Instead let’s have a party and celebrate my life.fireworks.jpeg

Everyone dance, eat and drink ice-tea or

Let us all rejoice that today is the birthday of my new day in heaven.

I hope that you will all attend, yes you, all of my friends.50's

Daily Prompt; In Loving Memory/ The Daily Post

The Lady in Red

Her children were reading the obituary through teary eyes. Reading it once, twice and three times. It was the night before the funeral. The viewings had been tiring. Many visitors and family members stopped in to pay their respects. Hugs and tears, plus many stories were shared among everyone the past two days.

The day of the funeral came. Her three children were sitting in the front seat. Mom would be so proud if she could see all three of her children sitting side by side. Sharing tears and hands. Her close friends sat next to the children, comforting them in their time of grief.

Her one friend stood up and spoke about Terry. She told of how many years they had been friends. How they helped each other out in good times and bad. They spent many hours on the phone with each other chatting the time a way. She told about a story where Terry was scared to death by the horse that ran in the middle of the night.

Daily Prompt: In Loving Memory

This was written for the Daily Post

Another friend from Illinois came to the funeral also. She had not been friends  long enough to get to meet Terry’s  children so she stepped up to introduce herself; while on her way to the pulpit. She spoke about how she and her own mama shared many moments together while each of their own family members shared an illness. Tears in the crowd were flowing after this friend sat down.

Her three children were the last to stand. Together they held hands, and they told about wonderful memories their mom had left them. Times when they made Christmas cookies and threw icing in each others hair.  Times when we went to the state park and had cook outs and went hiking. The big Christmas pile of gifts all for them. Mom was always letting us have parties and sleep overs. Mom was always trying to build memories for us kids, and now we know why.

When the kids went back and sat down, the minister stood up to the pulpit and said some kind words. He took the obituary pamphlet and read it aloud to everyone.

Terry J. Shepherd

Born April 21,1954

Died December 10, 2012


Mr. and Mrs. Miller, both deceased

One half-sister, where abouts unknown

One brother, living age 56

Terry was a kind lady who thought of others often before her own needs. She had been called by God to care for the ill and elderly. She worked with geriatrics, mentally challenged and dementia patients.

She cared for her father while he was ill, and after his passing she   continued the family care by watching over her brother who is now living in a facility. Terry took it very hard when she had to place him. I believe this is what took her life. A broken heart. The loss of her parents, her children moving in their own direction, and the placement of her brother was just too much for her heart to handle.

Terry also owned her own business for some time. She re-finished antique furniture. She also had a great passion for writing and had her first book written and was in the process of being published. I believe she had started on her second book at the time of her death.

She loved antiques and costume jewelry, Christmas trees. She studied black history and was involved deeply with the release of slaves.

We will always remember Terry for what she gave. She had little but she gave much. May we all say a prayer, that she is now smiling and sitting joyously beside Jesus.

We shall miss you Terry

Plinky, 11/15/2012

Portrait of French physician François Broussai...

The Prompt is; Reflecting Back at Your Life, and What Would You Be Thinking.

Reflecting at the end of Life

Knowing the way my mind works, I think I would be thinking back to my kids and hoping that I had done a good job at raising them, and that they forgave me for my own errors, as I am not a perfect woman, mother, nor wife.
I would be fearful of leaving everyone behind, but yet excited about seeing Jesus, and finally able to sit by him.
I always have said I will die from smoking or my diabetes, so I will probably be cursing myself, for not giving up the smokes, or for eating too many sweets.
I will be talking to my mom and dad, and letting them know how anxious I am to see them again. My grandma and grandpa will be there waiting for me too!
Even though, I can do nothing about it at this point, I will be going over in my mind any debts I have left behind. Hoping I have everything covered, so that my kids will not be left with my burdens.
Finally, I hope and pray, that when you place me in that casket, that you do not place me on my back! You all know I get terrible headaches when I lay on my back. Put me on my side, you know I like to be different, and lastly, I pray that there are no roses at my funeral. Everyone knows that I am terribly allergic to roses, so if there are any there, I will know that I had not taken the time to make amendments with one of my enemies.
Lord, I had a great life, and you provided me with many wonderful opportunities. I am sorry for the ones I let slip by and thankful for the ones I reached out and grabbed. Thank-you Lord for the many wonderful friends I have made through my blogging. It was because of your nudging me, that I even began to write. I am so thankful Lord, that you have loved me from day one, and that you have forgiven me for all of my sins. I am ready Lord, I have made my peace. I am coming now to see you Lord. Amen

Continuing Story Part 27

The next day came, and with it gloom filled Dahlia’s heart. It was the day of the funeral, a


day where she was going to face her own demons, that she had well hidden for years, so she thought.

She sat on her bed, not wanting to get dressed, but instead, crawling back under her covers, bringing them up over her head and burying herself until the new dawn met her. She knew though, that she needed to go, and how disappointed Rachel and Ralph would be in her by not doing the proper thing.

She got up out of bed and making it behind her, she went to her closet and chose a dress that had no frills or lace on it. Something so drab and plain, just like her thoughts were today. She got dressed in silence, tuning all noises out around her and then took her basket and went across the hall to brush her teeth, splash cold water on her face, and run a comb through her hair. Today, she would not fuss with her hair as she usually did, today, she would leave it down, to show her own personality.

She then followed the common path to the kitchen, and only had toast and orange juice for her breakfast. No one else was in the kitchen today, she thought, but over in the corner on a stool, sat Drew. He was watching her ever so quietly, as she finished her breakfast and got up to pour herself a cup of hot coffee.

When she sat down to enjoy this one moment of the day, she heard a stirring in the kitchen and asked who was in here with her. The voice of Drew came to her and her body became stiff and rigid with fear, and she started to get up and leave, but he asked her to stay seated, that he wanted to talk to her.

His voice sounded soft and her fear let up a little, and she heard him walk over to her and set across from her at the table. He began by apologizing for his past actions with her. He explained that he did not know why he had done this at the time, for he had no interest in her in that way, and he knew that she was promised to another. He went on to explain that now he knew why he had done as he had done, and she needed to know, that he was ill. That he had discovered yesterday, that he had brain cancer. He wanted her to know how truly sorry he was, and he was moving closer to her in his seat, begging for her forgiveness. He needed to know that she forgave him before his time was up on this earth. He could not rest easy until she understood.

Stirrings moved in her heart, and she knew from the tone of his voice that he was sincere. She stood and moved closer to him, and lying her arm over his, she said that although the memories are still fresh in her mind, and she was still struggling at putting it behind her, she understood, and she forgave him. She told him that she was so sorry to hear of this illness and she was willing to lay things to rest between him and her.

He cried, and the sobbing was hard, and he was taking her hands in his and thanking her for being so kind. He told her that she was a nice woman and that Drake was so lucky to have found her, and that he hoped they truly had a good life together. He promised her that nothing like this would ever happen again. With this conversation having nothing more to be added, they both parted the kitchen together.

What Drew had told Dahlia brought comfort to her, and she prayed to her God, that this would soon be a past never to be remembered. She found Rachel and Ralph coming out of their bedroom, and they saw her and asked her if she was ready to go. It was time, and no one wanted to enter late. Dahlia nodded in affirmation, and the three of them left to go the funeral.

Dahlia’s mind drifted to her past,and she thought of her parents and wondered if they had ever loved her. Had they ever wished that this child had never been brought to this earth. How did her mother feel about her on her dying bed. Thoughts drifted in and out as they drove to the church.

Once arriving, Ralph turned the car off, and came over to Dahlia and Rachel’s side and opening the doors for each of them, helped them to get out. The three of them walked into the church, where soft organ music was playing. Dahlia stayed close to Ralph and Rachel as she was not familiar with where she was and didn’t want to collide into anything.

The door greeter met them, and after asking their names, walked them into the main area, where her mother laid. Ralph and Rachel stood by her side as they found themselves standing in front of the open casket. Silence was surrounding them, and Dahlia found it odd, to have her mother not speaking to her. Soon they made their way to their special seats and others had come in and viewed and then had walked over to Dahlia and told her how sorry they were.

Dahlia thought this was never going to end. She didn’t recognize most of the people who had introduced themselves to her, but why would she? She was always left behind to do some type of cleaning. She was not allowed to intervene with her parents.

Soon the minister began to speak, and he was telling of things that Dahlia had never known. He was speaking about what a rough life her mother had when she was a young child herself. The rape that had occurred when she was a teenager, was a terrible incident, but her mother had fought hard to over come this, but never quite made it to total healing. He spoke of the marriage between the two and the child that was born, Dahlia.

He went on to say that he hoped that she felt peace now, and he said that he had spoken to her on her death-bed, letting her know that God had forgiven her of her errors in life. Dahlia sat and listened, not knowing who this person was, that the minster spoke of. This was surely not the mother that she, herself knew.

The service ended, and people shook hands and said their goodbyes and well wishes. When all had left the church, all that remained was Dahlia, Ralph, Rachel, and the minister. There was a stranger standing off to the side, as if he was waiting for approval to move. The minister went to him, and brought him along with her own father, and the two men asked Dahlia to please sit, that there was information that needed to be told.

The entire time of the funeral, her father had never made his presence known to her. She had wondered if he was even here, as even Ralph and Rachel never mentioned seeing him, and now here he was, sitting beside her.

He placed his hand on Dahlia’s hand, and commented on how beautiful she looked all grown up. He said how sorry he was for the bad treatment of his wife, her mother, and even himself. He explained that he was always trying to hide his feelings from the world, knowing he had a wife that lived in hell in her mind from the damages that had been done to her. She had never been able to get passed it, and when you, Dahlia, were born, she loved you so much. I can still see the glow in her eyes, as she held you close to her heart, showing you off to all those who paid a visit, but somewhere in the middle of all of this, nightmares would reappear, and she would hide within herself, sometimes not even speaking to him, her own husband.

Her father went on to say, that he knew of one person in her life that she loved more than even him, and this was Dahlia, but she could not get close to you, as she was so afraid that her fears and depression would enter your soul and destroy your chance of a good life.

Dahlia sat there trying to take in the new picture of who her mother really was. This was not the woman that she had grown up with, and now she was being told that her mother really loved her, so much love she felt, that she stayed away from her. She had practiced hatred so hard she had convinced her own child that she was not worthy of living.

This was a lot to digest, but before she could think farther, the strange man who no one seemed to recognize, brought forth a long envelope and opening Dahlia’s hands, he placed it in her hands, and said that this is from your mother, she wanted you to have this. It is her way of telling you how much she loved you, and also asking for your forgiveness.

Dahlia sat there with the envelope in her hands not knowing or wanting to open it. Was it a letter that she herself could not read?  Perhaps a card with her own apology written inside. Rachel asked her if she would care to open it, since this man had made a point to come here in person to give it to her. Dahlia handed it to Rachel, who handed it back to the stranger, and he opened it, and inside was a letter.

There was a letter stating that her mother hoped she forgave her, and that nothing from her own sadness had ever entered her heart. She wanted to let Dahlia know that she cried every night before she went to sleep over not being able to hug her own daughter, and tell her how much she loved her. The only way she could show this now, was to let her know that in the bank downtown, was key to a special box and inside of it was money that she had been saving every day since her child had been delivered into her arms. The amount of money that her mother had left her, was $50,000.

Dahlia sat in shock, then started to sob heavily. Her mother had loved her, all these years, and had never been able to show it in order to protect this child from the same fears she had carried herself. Tears came to everyone’s eyes, as the story that was poured out, began to make sense, and people were understanding. Her father moved closer and told her that he could not expose his wife’s wishes, and that he had also loved her ever since she was born. He produced from his pocket a big envelope that was filled with pages of a journal he had been keeping for her. His thoughts for her were inside, and as he handed Dahlia the envelope, he said that maybe one day Rachel could read these to her, and as the words left his lips, he broke down and wept, letting her know how much he has always loved her and still does. He explained that he was getting old, and if he could prove to her how important she was to him, then he could be content to die in the old house.