Tag Archives: love

So much sadness….

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I don’t usually blog about deeply personal things, but the past week has been tough and my heart is too heavy for the usual fluff today.

It started with the death of one of my husband’s coworkers. An unexpected heart attack. He was 52.

The next day we learned an old childhood friend of my husband’s had passed from the cancer he’d been battling for years. Not unexpected, but still sad. He was 71.

We’ve also been helping to care for my husband’s elderly uncle who still lives alone at 91. His mind is strong, but his body is failing and he’s unable to do everyday things. We do his grocery shopping, run his errands and clean his house… and while I know he appreciates the help, he also gets very cranky with the invasion of his personal space. He really needs nursing home care now and though it’s not unexpected… it’s been sad seeing the slow decline of health of a once vibrant man.

But the situation that’s broken me is my SIL. A big hearted, funny, generous to a fault, deeply troubled woman who’s suffered from depression all her life. An unhappy childhood, an abusive marriage, a bitter divorce and a diagnosis of MS in her late 40’s led to a deep slide into alcoholism and opioid addiction. After trying to kill herself in 2010, we took her in and she lived with us for a year. We got her off the booze, the drugs and the cigarettes. We put over 30lbs on her frail frame, got her substance abuse counseling and psychiatric help and shared what she always tells people was the best year of her life. We gave her love and a fresh start and felt good about setting her up in a nice little apartment. But left to her own devices, the last 12 years have been a slow road to self destruction. Isolating herself from friends and family and smoking two packs a day led to COPD and emphysema and a total dependence on oxygen. Somewhere along the line she gave up on life and though we tried to help numerous times, you can’t save someone from themselves. Now… at barely 80 pounds, she’s dying in a hospice facility. We visited her yesterday and the literal husk of the woman we saw there broke both our hearts.

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It is.

But damn, it’s a hard price to pay.

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Just in time for Valentines Day.

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While most people will be out shopping for romantic cards, flowers, chocolate and/or thoughtful gifts for the holiday … I offer an alternative for those with something other than love in their hearts.

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Huntress… I think this has your name written all over it.

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Cry Me a Cockroach sounds perfect for your ex.

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And for those who live in the Northeast…

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You’re welcome.

❤️

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Let’s play.

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You’ll like this one.

You get to tell me what to do…

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Advice. Everyone seems to have it, but no one seems to want it.

My late father always used to tell me not to take any wooden nickels, which seems ridiculous these days… but I suppose you could substitute ‘cryptocurrency’ for ‘nickel’ and call it good.

While I make a habit of never offering unsolicited advice, being happily married for 38 years people often ask for our secret and want advice on staying together.

Love, respect, and understanding. All important, but I usually default back to compromise and choosing carefully. Chemical attraction and lust fade, trust me on this. If you don’t have anything deeper to hold you together you won’t be searching for the traditional 40th anniversary gift. ( Ruby! Let’s hear it for hanging in there.)

I constantly hear people say you have to have things in common with your spouse to cement a relationship, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth for us… we’re very different people. But we find common ground in the type of life we want to lead and where we want to live it. That trumps his preference for television over my love of reading any day, even if it means a John Wayne marathon now and then.

My husband and I met and were married 6 days later. Guess I chose correctly. ❣️

Your turn. Give me some advice…

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Gifts no one wants.

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If you’re looking for that perfect Christmas gift? For God’s sake, don’t look here.

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A crocheted octopus hat? While I admit the side view is impressive, I can’t think of a single friend who would actually wear it.

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Men? I’m going to speak for all women when I say we don’t need you to amplify your junk. You’re entirely too proud of it already.

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Be still my heart.

An affection erection?

And they say romance is dead.

🤣

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Going out on a limb… part 6.

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This will be the last  I never knew River was such a loon unexplained experienced post. Strange things happen, and sometimes you have to blog about them. Which is what I did after my mother passed…. and now again because  Swinged Cat  asked me.

Weird event #6.

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Wow.

Added: Wednesday, July 9th 2014 at 8:54am by rivergirl

I have one more amazing experience to share with you, and for me…this was the most meaningful.

As I’ve said before, the people who work and volunteer at hospices are angels in my eyes. A more compassionate, caring set of individuals you’ll never meet. They were there for me at the worst time of my life…. even when I didn’t think I needed them. They walked me through the process of death and held my hand. Literally and figuratively. They offered a shoulder to cry on and a hug when words weren’t nearly enough. They shared their stories of helping others through difficult times and it ended up helping me.

One woman told me of a patient who had terminal prostate cancer. He was given 3 months to live and was surrounded by his large, loving, Italian family at all times. They came in rotating shifts, cooked meals, read books and played cards. One afternoon while his favorite grand daughter was visiting he told her he was a little tired and wanted to take a nap. She said, “Okay Gramps. But we’ll be right outside when you need us because we’re not leaving you for a minute.” 10 minutes later, forgetting her purse in his room, she snuck back in quietly and found that he was gone.

He needed to spare them the pain of his passing and chose his time.

Make of that what you will.

When you’re sitting in the hospice rooms… there are books, pamphlets and literature on dying scattered everywhere. They’re meant to be helpful, but for days I couldn’t bring myself to read them. Denial is a wonderful thing.

But as time wore on and things got progressively worse, I picked one up.

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It was written by a nurse who has witnessed numerous deaths in her career. And as hard as it was to read…it was also strangely fascinating. Because I learned that it’s a very defined process, death. No matter what your disease or illness….you will die in clearly recognizable steps.

Reading about the months prior to death I realized my mother had been showing the signs. She’d given up reading, which she loved. She’d given up the New York Times crossword puzzle, which she whipped thru in pen. Her appetite had gone from small to non existent. Her sleeping patterns had changed. These are all part of the process….the pulling away from life.

So I sat, I waited, I cried.

And then it happened. It was an afternoon when a social worker had come to talk with me. At this point my mother had been completely out of it for almost a week. You couldn’t wake her and she didn’t speak.

The social worker had gotten up and walked around the room, looking at all the photos I’d brought. We stood on opposite sides of my mother’s bed and spoke of my father and the strange experiences I related here earlier. I had tears rolling down my face when I told her I knew my dad was waiting for my mom. We turned, made our way to the door…. and then? My mother woke up.

Her eyes were as clear as day… and she found me across the room. I rushed to her side, leaned over her bed and held her hand. I told her I loved her. She looked like she was trying to say something…. but couldn’t. Her breathing became labored.  I leaned closer, kissed her and told it her was okay. That it was her time…and that I would be alright. I told her she would be with dad again soon.

I told her he’d been waiting for her a long time and it was okay to go. I told her he was right there with us.

And then the strangest thing happened. She turned her head, reached out an arm and looked right past me….in every sense of the word. Her eyes went completely glassy. Like a curtain had been drawn. Her breathing calmed, she smiled…and I knew. She’d found him.

She closed her eyes and went back to sleep, but I knew the best part of her was already gone. I’m sitting here with a lump in my throat and tears splashing the keyboard, but I tell you at that moment….I felt such an overwhelming sense of peace.

And grace.

I kept a bedside vigil for many more hours. And reread a passage in the book about what happens when death is near…

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Well, I recognized it…. and it was amazing.

She died later that night. A half an hour after I’d left.

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Going out on a limb ….part 5.

I’m just going to keep putting these out here until I run out. If you’re reading them and seeing me differently, so be it. I’m finding it quite cathartic…. and as Bon Jovi says, It’s My Life.

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Weird experience #5, another from my days in the hospice with my  late mother.

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The Crash.

Added: Wednesday, July 9th 2014 at 5:25am by rivergirl

As I said before, I brought a lot of pictures to my mothers hospice room. I hung them on the walls, taped them to the nightstand and tucked them in the tv screen. I wanted to surround her with love and happy memories.

There were many of me and my husband, and our pets and special times we had shared with my mother….

The nurses and staff loved it. They told me it lets them meet their patients in a different way, which considering the never ending sadness they deal with… I thought was very touching.

Most of the pictures were mine, but there were 3 framed photographs that had hung on my mother’s walls for 50 years… so I brought them too.

Here they are:

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Momma & her father

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My mother and her father on Jones Beach.

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My mother and father on their wedding day at the Stork Club.

And this one:

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A very old photo of my mother, in her 20’s, and her first love… Frank.

He was much older and very wealthy. He introduced a young, naive girl born to Austrian immigrant parents who lived in a cold water tenement flat…. to a world of art, culture and high society. They were together for many years, but never married. In 1957 he broke it off and introduced her to a junior partner in his firm….my father. They were married a year later.

I grew up knowing all about Frank. It was no secret she loved him and it in no way diminished the love she felt for my father. First love is first love. It never bothered me.

Now fast forward 50 odd years and her daughter is sitting alone with her in a hospice room waiting for the end. I cried. All day, all night, on and off for days.

During the first afternoon, I was sitting on the rock hard couch thinking about her life, my life and everything in between. I thought about my dad. About how much he loved her and what a good marriage they had.

And then I heard a crash.

The picture of my mom and Frank had fallen off the wall.  It fell face down on the floor and the glass was smashed to bits.

No one had slammed a door, no one had knocked the wall from the next room. There was no seismic shock or tremor that rattled the building. No airplane flew too low and shook the windows. It just crashed.While all the other pictures stayed right where they were.

Apparently while my mother loving Frank didn’t bother me….it clearly bothered my dad. And he told me so in no uncertain terms.

The photo stayed face down on a side table until I brought it home after she passed.

Call it coincidence if you want….

But I know better.

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Going out on a limb… Part 2.

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If you’re back this morning it must mean you want to know how my reading with the psychic went back in 2013. Funny, eight years later and I still have to pinch myself when I think about it. Roll your eyes, scoff, write me off as a nutcase… I don’t care. I would have done the same if I hadn’t experienced it myself. You know me…I’m a pragmatic chicka. A realist. There have only been a handful of things in my life I can’t explain…. and this was one of them. So jump aboard the crazy train and thank Swinged Cat  for opening up my archive with his request for sharing weird experiences.

My evening with spirits…. **Friends only**

 January 29th 2013 at 9:47am by rivergirl

I’m not sure I know where to begin.

And if I start rambling, please forgive me…it was a very emotional experience.

The psychic was a lovely woman who made me feel completely at ease. There was no incense, no crystal ball, just a table and the prerequisite box of tissues. She instructed me at the beginning of the session not to volunteer any information. Only to acknowledge or negate what she said. So for all you skeptics, there was no way she was pulling details of my life from me since all I said for an entire hour was yes or no.

I have to say it felt surreal. The moment we started she told me there was a man, who she felt was my father, waiting for me. I won’t go into all the details since none of you knew him….suffice it to say she had him down cold. There was nothing she related that wasn’t completely accurate. She had his personality, his job, his appearance, his love for my mother, his wartime experience, his poor health, his dry sense of humor, his love of the sea. She saw him surrounded by books, artist’s brushes, animals and gardens. She spoke of his grief over the loss of his brother when he was young, of his regrets in not being able to watch me grow up, his sense of duty towards his widowed mother and awful sister.

(And let me tell you…she had her down pat also. My hateful aunt who the psychic called spoiled, entitled and bitter. Fittingly, she is as alone in death as she was in life. Nice to know you really do reap what you sow. 👍)

I think the most amazing thing I came away from this experience with was the knowledge that our loved ones are always with us. My father said he was glad I had found a good man who loved me. That we were secure financially, that we were happy. He knew my husband had been in uniform and was older than I. He spoke of the big building project we had undertaken (the barn!) and how well we worked together as a team. He said he had been worried for me in my early teenage years right after he died because I, how shall we say….ran a little wild. (Which I totally did!) He said he appreciated the fact that I care for my mother… and to please have patience with her… as he had to, for she is not a strong woman.

The psychic told me of my father being there the night of the Marine Corps ball and how lovely he thought I looked in my dress. Of how proud he was of me for finding my own voice after so many years of being a shy wallflower. (Yeah….I know, hard to believe but at one time I was.) He wanted me to know that our beloved beagle Hiram was beside him now as he had been in life….which made the animal lover in me rejoice. He told me to lead the life I wanted to lead…that it is the regrets we take with us. And even though I never felt neglected as a child, his biggest regret was that he worked too hard and too long and didn’t spend enough time with my mother and me. He spoke of many little childhood memories I had all but forgotten. He spoke of the grief he carried over the loss of my brothers and sister. (My mother had multiple miscarriages early in their marriage) As I said…it was surreal.

Though I did choke up a few times….I didn’t babble. Which is surprising because even after all these years, I can’t often speak of my father without crying. I think I might have been too stunned for tears. My jaw was probably hanging open half the time because even though this was exactly what I had hoped for…part of me didn’t believe it could really happen. I’d happily crossed over into the Twilight Zone… and no one could have been more surprised. But aside from the other worldly vibe? The over all feeling of the evening was peace.

And love….above all, love.

For 35 years I have missed my father…. and wished over and over again that he could have shared my life as a teenager, as a young woman, as an adult. And now, the most remarkable thing I realized?

 He has.

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Dudley update.

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It took almost 3 weeks, but our new boy is settling in nicely and less skittish every day.

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Loud noises like the snow plow still send him under the bed … and the jury is still out on exterior wonders. He spied wild turkeys in the backyard the other day and growled from under the couch for 5 minutes straight.

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But he’s learning to trust us and coming out of his shell. Toys help, and I’ve retrieved that fuzzy ball from under the furniture enough times to require another visit to the orthopedist.

I think it’s safe to say I’m in love.

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Even my girlfriend recognized how much having a little guy around the house again means and sent a congratulations card.

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Dudley loves his squeaky mouse, but not when we wave the stick…. so I rigged up a do it yourself playground.

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I’m sure he’s grateful, though he doesn’t look it.

It should be noted that while I love dogs and all their slobbering appreciation? There’s something about the utter disdain cats show their humans which speaks to me.

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