I Hate You, 2011

My dog died on New Year's Day- the first freaking day of 2011.  He was 10 years old.

I guess technically he was my brother's dog, but for all intents and purposes, he was mine.  Shadow was a Scottie dog- they can be a little bit aloof and they like their alone time.  But he loved me and earning his love meant something because he didn't feel that way about most anyone else.  When I was pregnant with Spencer, it was as if he could sense I needed him and he slept beside me every night.  He didn't really like to sleep with anyone because he was afraid of heights, couldn't jump very high, and liked having his own space to stretch without touching anyone.  But during those months he'd jump up beside me and settle in the crook of my bent legs, never leaving my side.

When we first brought him home, I was ridiculously allergic to him- so much so that I went on allergy shots- 12 injections a week for 52 weeks.  I loved that dog so much, I went on allergy shots for him!

He'd been really sick recently, but it looked like he was getting better.  Since my brother was at school and my parents both work during the day, I did the majority of taking care of him.  And he was getting better.

But then something just stopped working inside him.
 
And I wasn't there.

And he died.

When I needed him, he never left me, but when he needed me, I wasn't there.  He died and I wasn't there and I should have been. 

My eyes are swollen into little tiny slits because I can't stop crying.  

I don't like 2011; it stinks.  I guess the only good thing is that it has to get better, right? 

I am going to miss you Shadow, my little Stinky Stinkerson, Little Man Boy.

Helpless

My friend who died ended his own life.  I found out today.

From the outside looking in, it appeared as though the world was his oyster.  He had a beautiful, intelligent wife, a house, and a loving family.  For what more could you ask?  I was looking at some of his pictures the other day, before any of this happened, and I thought to myself that he looked so happy, so loved.  He was one of the last people I would ever think could make such a decision;  to choose death over life.  

As sad as I am for him, all I can think about is his wife.  They were supposed to have a lifetime together- to grow old with each other.  And now she's alone; left by herself to pick up the pieces and somehow move forward.  It makes me queasy to think about the helplessness she must feel.  What must she have gone through when she went home and found him?

I've experienced depression before.  Shortly after my Mema died my dad was diagnosed with Small B-Cell Lymphoma, specifically Small Lymphocytic Lymphoma.  Within four months my world was turned upside down and I was devastated.  Months later I no longer recognized myself and my parents were so worried about me.  I got help, went to a psychiatrist and was put on an anti-depressant.  After awhile things began to look brighter and I was slowly weaned off of them under my doctor's supervision.  It was a painful time in my life, but I never thought about ending it.  That's why I know he must have been in such tremendous despair.


It's taken me five minutes to write the word.  Suicide.  It takes my breath away like a punch to the stomach.  I don't know if he reached our to anyone or if he kept it all bottled inside.  What if someone I'm close to is experiencing the same thoughts and feelings?  How can I help?  I hope I'm the kind of person that someone could turn to, but maybe I'm not.  I don't know, what are the right words to say?

Tonight, I'm feeling helpless.

Fleeting

I just found out that a friend of mine from high school passed away last night.  We weren't the best of friends, probably more of acquaintances in actuality.  But he's dead now.  Alive yesterday, dead today.  I just can't fathom that.  He was such a nice guy, incredibly smart, and was only 27.  I can't even imagine the pain his wife his going through right now.  I'm even more reminded how fleeting this life is; how we have no idea when our last day is in fact our last day.  It sends shivers down my spine to think of it.  But right now I'm just thinking about the break dancing guy from high school- the one who always had a smile and a hug for everyone.

Memory Lane, Penny Lane

Today would have been my Mema's 80th birthday. My mom, Spencer, and I are going to the cemetery to put the pink and blue hydrangeas that she loved so much on her grave. Well, actually in the vase on her grave - such strict rules these places have now!

While I still am shaky on my faith (but I'm working on it) I have always believed that when I'm talking to her she is listening. I miss her every day. I don't think it's just a coincidence that her dog we inherited is Spencer's best non-human friend. But then again, I'm always on the look out for "signs" from her, something that shows me she's watching over us.

I'm the brat in my family- everyone else is mild-mannered and obedient. Even though she got on me for my smart mouth, she was also my ally. She loved me and she was proud of me. She's been gone for three years now, but there are still so many times that I say to myself "I need to call Mema, she'll know the answer," only to remember that I can't.

She taught me how to sew, how to knit, how to crochet and even how to properly iron pockets inside of the pants. I never had a store bought Halloween costume because each year she always made mine and they were AWESOME! I always won best costume at every party.

She was a proud breast cancer survivor, a generous donor, an unfailingly loyal wife. She was June Carter Cash's BFF in high school, she was my BFF for always. When my Papa first moved to Richmond he saw her walking down the street as he drove by. He stopped, rolled down the window, and said "I'm gonna marry you one day." She thought he was crazy, but by the time she got to her house, he was already there, asking her father if he could court his daughter.

She was beautiful. She was also smart. Even though she never went to college, she was excellent with numbers. While working a full time job she also did taxes for many people. She saved her money and was an excellent investor. She firmly believed the only safe way to invest money was long term and low yield. All of her stocks were blue chip, because she preferred earning only a penny rather than losing a dollar.

She took care of my Papa for four years while he became a shell of his former self due to Alzheimer's Disease. When she finally had no other choice but to put him in a nursing home, they told her they had never seen another patient as far along as he was being admitted for the first time. She hated having to leave him there, even though she spent every day, hours upon hours visiting him. She did his laundry, ironed all of his clothes (even his handkerchiefs) and cut his hair. When I asked her why she spent so much time making sure there were no wrinkles in his pants, making the crease perfectly even, and the handkerchiefs in four perfect squares, she said "Your Papa would be mortified if he knew he was walking around in wrinkled pants! And it's just good taste to have neat handkerchief!"

 

She was a Godly woman, a virtuous woman. She read the Bible everyday and never missed, or was late to, any church service. I sat beside her in church every Sunday, from the time when she gave me Werther's Originals and let me draw on her bulletins, to the time when she let me takes naps on her shoulder, shielding me so my mom wouldn't see me asleep, to the time when she would ask me what chapter of the Bible we were on because she couldn't hear what the Preacher said.

I'll never forget the time she gave me Ruth Graham's autobiography as a random gift one day. She was so nervous because she didn't want me to think she was giving me the book because I was doing something wrong in my life. She had read it and thought it was a great example of a Godly woman who was also strong and independent. I still have the book, it's always in my nightstand drawer.

I don't think it's humanly possible for me to convey how much she influenced my life, how much I love her, or how much I miss her. Her death was so sudden and so shocking, and for some terrible reason that day is one that I can't forget. I'm pretty good at blocking out bad memories, mostly because I'm not good at dealing with them, but everything about August 28th is etched into my brain. It's the day I lost my ally, my friend, my problem solver, and in some ways, my faith.

Every year I go to her grave on her birthday and sing to her. I tell her how I miss her snarkiness even though she would have no clue what snarky meant. I ask her to try and make sure I don't forget her stories and her life- because I want to share them with Spencer. Every year I cry a bucket of tears and wish I could hear her say "Get a hold of yourself! A lady doesn't weep in public!" Then I laugh and think about how lucky I was to have her for 23 years, how grateful I am for all she taught me.


Not a day goes by that I don't think about my her. Spencer has her middle name and when she's old enough, I can't wait to tell her all the stories about her Great-MeMa. So Happy Birthday, I'm sorry I shared with the world your real age! I Love You Always.

Fire

There was a fire today at my old apartment complex. An entire building went up in flames. I was there when it happened, squaring away a few loose ends.

There were over 10 firetrucks, dozens of policemen, and even more Red Cross volunteers. People were jumping out of their balconies and windows, because the fire had moved up the entire stair well. It was so real, but like something out of a movie. The flames billowing wildly in the air.


I felt like such a voyeur, just watching something I wish I never had to see. The smell of burning is in my hair.

As I was looking at the hollowed out shells of bedrooms and living rooms, something caught my eye as I looked down. Almost right in front of me where hundreds of pictures, all charred around the edges. The owner wasn't there, most of the residents who got caught in the fire had to go to the hospital. Tears immediately sprung to my eyes, as I imagined someone scrambling to protect their photos, their memories, even though a raging fire was encroaching.

I was so glad Spencer wasn't with me. Even though it wasn't my old building, and I was never in any danger- it was so close. It scares me so badly when I think about how fragile this life is.

Tonight, I am grateful.


Grateful.

Patrick Swayze, Barbara Walters, Weeping Katie

I don't know if anyone watched Patrick Swayze's interview with Barbara Walters, but I did, and it's gotten to me. I think I cried through about 70% of it, especially when they got to talking about his relationship with his wife.

They've been married for 33 years and you can still see the love they have for each other. I think it's amazing for any couple to stay married that long, but I think it's so much more beautiful when that couple's love is apparent to everyone who sees them. I've only ever seen it a handful of times, but they've stayed with me, they've become what I aspire to have one day.


I think a lot of people in my situation, the ones who marry the father and the ones who don't, get married to the wrong person just because it will make things easier. It's hard to be a single mother, it's hard to see families together and it's hard to not be jealous of them. But I have to be an example to Spencer and any relationship I have will effect her; I'm not getting married to anyone unless I see us as an "always." I'm not going to settle for anything less than a love like that because that's not the example, the lesson, I want for Spencer to follow.

When I watched Patrick and his wife together, as they face the knowledge that their time with each other will be cut short, it amazed me how grateful they were. Yes, they were sad and angry and all those feelings that go along with a terminal prognosis, but their commitment and love were already rock solid before that. They didn't look back and see years of their relationship they wished they could change, and they were thankful for that.

It was so moving and I was a crying a mess. On the other hand, it made me think about all of this and really gave me the perspective I've been needing recently. Sometimes I get all "woe is me" but I have so much for which I'm grateful. I never want to look back on these years and have regrets about not appreciating them, or wishing they were easier, or wishing I could go back and redo it all differently. If you haven't watched it, I'm putting a clip at the bottom, but it should be up on abc.com pretty soon.

Oh, and have a few tissues on hand, I double dare you not to cry!