October 7, 1918 - December 15, 1993
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Friday, October 8, 2010
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Death takes a holiday (Six Word Saturday, 3/27/10)
"Death takes a holiday - after Monday."
And then this was my Twittascope for today. Oh, how so accurate Internetz? I'm thinking there is a Magic 8 Ball somewhere out there, or they have my phones bugged. Hmmm ...
You may feel as if you've been running on autopilot lately. It's not that you aren't aware of what's happening; it's just that you are spontaneously making choices while you are still in motion. However, you might modify your style today because you want to be more conscious of why you are deciding one thing and not another. Logical analysis can be helpful as long as you don't turn it into an obsession that disconnects you from your intuition.
Some of you know already that immediately following the death of our 18 year old cat last Sunday, I got word that my 44 year old nephew had died suddenly from a heart attack. He went to use the restroom at work and never came back.
I received a call from the woman he was renting a place from, she found my number in his cell phone. The irony of it all is that the call came exactly one year to the day from when he called me to tell me he had been released from prison. When he was 20 he was sentenced to life for felony murder for his drunken participation in a stupid robbery gone horribly wrong. His older brother turned state's evidence against him in exchange for a lighter sentence. In spite of expert testimony to the contrary, he was convicted.
He was a little slow, he was easily led, he was a follower. He was a good man in spite of it all. He was my late sister's baby, and his father (my sister's ex) stopped taking his calls from prison. So did the brother who put him there. After she died in 1994, I was all he had left. I sent him money when I could. I sent him towels, underwear, and candy at Christmas, and a Bible the year he asked for one. I wasn't a saint, sometimes I didn't take his calls either and never mind how I feel about that now.
He was paroled one year and four days before I got the call this week, after serving 23 years. He had a job at a metal works company. He had a cell phone and learned to text. He bought a car and paid cash for it from what he had saved while on 6 months of work release. Most of all, he had a surrogate family that had adopted him years earlier. He grew up with one of their boys and they kept in contact with him this whole time. He was renting a place on their property when he died and they are heartbroken. Until this past November, I hadn't seen him since Christmas 1980 just after my first son was born. He was 15 and I have pictures of him holding his new baby cousin. When we went to see our Marine Son™ at Thanksgiving I knew I couldn't pass back through Savannah without trying to see him. I called him and we met for coffee at a Waffle House just off I-95. We spent 45 minutes just chatting and looking at each other and he was bent and broken. Before we got back on the road to home we took pictures, and by then I could begin to see the kid I'd known in his eyes. He was in there and he was going to be okay. It struck me too, how much he looked like and was built like, my father. When we got back in the car I cried for miles and miles.
The last time I heard from him was a text last month: "Hey, Love! It's snowin'!"
Since Tuesday I have been planning a funeral long distance. I have called and waited for calls from medical examiners, funeral technicians, one attorney who won't release his cell phone and wallet to me until we can prove that the brother is nowhere to be found. "Suppose he shows up and sues the job site because we gave his things to you? He's really the direct next of kin." Sure, of course. Legally I get that. But then please explain to me why I should care? He hasn't been heard from since my sister's funeral in October 1994. His dad and mom are both deceased, so that leaves me to pick up the pieces.
After I direct the cantata tomorrow, Palm Sunday (twice, we're doing it at both services), we're hitting the road for Georgia. His service will be Monday afternoon at 3:00 in the church where he had found a spiritual home. After his cremation, I'm going to scatter his ashes over his mama's grave. He talked so many times about wanting to come back to Florida to see where she was buried. I think he'd like that, and I know she would.
Rest in Peace, Tom. You've earned it.
And then this was my Twittascope for today. Oh, how so accurate Internetz? I'm thinking there is a Magic 8 Ball somewhere out there, or they have my phones bugged. Hmmm ...
You may feel as if you've been running on autopilot lately. It's not that you aren't aware of what's happening; it's just that you are spontaneously making choices while you are still in motion. However, you might modify your style today because you want to be more conscious of why you are deciding one thing and not another. Logical analysis can be helpful as long as you don't turn it into an obsession that disconnects you from your intuition.
Some of you know already that immediately following the death of our 18 year old cat last Sunday, I got word that my 44 year old nephew had died suddenly from a heart attack. He went to use the restroom at work and never came back.
I received a call from the woman he was renting a place from, she found my number in his cell phone. The irony of it all is that the call came exactly one year to the day from when he called me to tell me he had been released from prison. When he was 20 he was sentenced to life for felony murder for his drunken participation in a stupid robbery gone horribly wrong. His older brother turned state's evidence against him in exchange for a lighter sentence. In spite of expert testimony to the contrary, he was convicted.
He was a little slow, he was easily led, he was a follower. He was a good man in spite of it all. He was my late sister's baby, and his father (my sister's ex) stopped taking his calls from prison. So did the brother who put him there. After she died in 1994, I was all he had left. I sent him money when I could. I sent him towels, underwear, and candy at Christmas, and a Bible the year he asked for one. I wasn't a saint, sometimes I didn't take his calls either and never mind how I feel about that now.
He was paroled one year and four days before I got the call this week, after serving 23 years. He had a job at a metal works company. He had a cell phone and learned to text. He bought a car and paid cash for it from what he had saved while on 6 months of work release. Most of all, he had a surrogate family that had adopted him years earlier. He grew up with one of their boys and they kept in contact with him this whole time. He was renting a place on their property when he died and they are heartbroken. Until this past November, I hadn't seen him since Christmas 1980 just after my first son was born. He was 15 and I have pictures of him holding his new baby cousin. When we went to see our Marine Son™ at Thanksgiving I knew I couldn't pass back through Savannah without trying to see him. I called him and we met for coffee at a Waffle House just off I-95. We spent 45 minutes just chatting and looking at each other and he was bent and broken. Before we got back on the road to home we took pictures, and by then I could begin to see the kid I'd known in his eyes. He was in there and he was going to be okay. It struck me too, how much he looked like and was built like, my father. When we got back in the car I cried for miles and miles.
The last time I heard from him was a text last month: "Hey, Love! It's snowin'!"
Since Tuesday I have been planning a funeral long distance. I have called and waited for calls from medical examiners, funeral technicians, one attorney who won't release his cell phone and wallet to me until we can prove that the brother is nowhere to be found. "Suppose he shows up and sues the job site because we gave his things to you? He's really the direct next of kin." Sure, of course. Legally I get that. But then please explain to me why I should care? He hasn't been heard from since my sister's funeral in October 1994. His dad and mom are both deceased, so that leaves me to pick up the pieces.
After I direct the cantata tomorrow, Palm Sunday (twice, we're doing it at both services), we're hitting the road for Georgia. His service will be Monday afternoon at 3:00 in the church where he had found a spiritual home. After his cremation, I'm going to scatter his ashes over his mama's grave. He talked so many times about wanting to come back to Florida to see where she was buried. I think he'd like that, and I know she would.
Rest in Peace, Tom. You've earned it.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Crossroads
I sit here thinking about today's post and I can't help but recall the old song, "Girl, You'll be A Woman Soon." While the lyrics don't at all mesh with what I'm thinking (I'm not a boy pining for a young girl, after all), the title just won't let me be.
Our daughter, our baby, has mere months left before she leaves behind her safe life at the K-8 school she has attended since Kindergarten. She will be in the scary world of High School next fall and while it may not be scary to her, it scares the hell out of her father and me. We won't be two minutes away from the school any longer. There won't be faculty and office staff there who have known her since she was 5 and have always looked out for her. There will be older friends with cars and other temptations, teachers who don't know the girl that we know inside out. There will be pressures that even she can't begin to imagine at this point in her life no matter how worldly-wise she thinks she is.
She is our baby, our surprise child. Let's be honest, after our two boys reached the ages of 15 and 9, and the husband and I were 41, a little girl wasn't at all the retirement we were planning in just a few short years. We have maintained for all of her 13 years now that she is a blessing, a gift, and we mean it wholeheartedly. I can't imagine our lives without her. She's tough. She began life 8 weeks premature, and weighed in at a whopping 3 pounds 7 ounces. They called her "the dancer" in the NICU unit because she never stayed still; they had to swaddle her just so that she could rest and conserve her energy. Her love of dance has always been there and no I won't embarrass her by telling the "table dancing" story from when she was 2, but it was a classic moment in our family story bank.
She has applied for several magnet schools in the area, for their drama programs. She has been rejected for one and we are still waiting to hear from another, but this morning we learned that she has been accepted into a magnet program for Bio-Medical and Environmental Studies. Pre-med. While her father and I blinked in disbelief and laughed, I can't even print what her response was. She applied and attended the open house because it would look good on her records. Even looking over her grades, they still want her. Go figure. And I don't mean that in a negative way at all, I'm just being honest here.
Yes, she can do anything she puts her mind to and I have no doubt she could do this, too, if she sets her mind to it. She is our child, she's brilliant. And talented. And beautiful. And funny. And sensitive. And---
And she's growing up way too soon.
Our daughter, our baby, has mere months left before she leaves behind her safe life at the K-8 school she has attended since Kindergarten. She will be in the scary world of High School next fall and while it may not be scary to her, it scares the hell out of her father and me. We won't be two minutes away from the school any longer. There won't be faculty and office staff there who have known her since she was 5 and have always looked out for her. There will be older friends with cars and other temptations, teachers who don't know the girl that we know inside out. There will be pressures that even she can't begin to imagine at this point in her life no matter how worldly-wise she thinks she is.
She is our baby, our surprise child. Let's be honest, after our two boys reached the ages of 15 and 9, and the husband and I were 41, a little girl wasn't at all the retirement we were planning in just a few short years. We have maintained for all of her 13 years now that she is a blessing, a gift, and we mean it wholeheartedly. I can't imagine our lives without her. She's tough. She began life 8 weeks premature, and weighed in at a whopping 3 pounds 7 ounces. They called her "the dancer" in the NICU unit because she never stayed still; they had to swaddle her just so that she could rest and conserve her energy. Her love of dance has always been there and no I won't embarrass her by telling the "table dancing" story from when she was 2, but it was a classic moment in our family story bank.
She has applied for several magnet schools in the area, for their drama programs. She has been rejected for one and we are still waiting to hear from another, but this morning we learned that she has been accepted into a magnet program for Bio-Medical and Environmental Studies. Pre-med. While her father and I blinked in disbelief and laughed, I can't even print what her response was. She applied and attended the open house because it would look good on her records. Even looking over her grades, they still want her. Go figure. And I don't mean that in a negative way at all, I'm just being honest here.
Yes, she can do anything she puts her mind to and I have no doubt she could do this, too, if she sets her mind to it. She is our child, she's brilliant. And talented. And beautiful. And funny. And sensitive. And---
And she's growing up way too soon.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Home again, home again
The short version: Thanksgiving was wonderful. We spent two days in North Carolina with our younger son and his wife. We slept, we ate, we drove around and sightsee'd (sight-saw?) ... At any rate, we looked at lots of stuff. *g*
I spent some time writing (by hand! oh, the horrors!) in an attempt to finish my entry for NaNoWriMo, and I accomplished that today.
So now I'm going to rest on my laurels (they're actually quite comfy, those laurels of mine) and enjoy a little bit of calmness before the true insanity of the Advent/Christmas season explodes around me.
The long version: Well, I'm going to save that for another, more serious (but equally happy) post.
I spent some time writing (by hand! oh, the horrors!) in an attempt to finish my entry for NaNoWriMo, and I accomplished that today.
So now I'm going to rest on my laurels (they're actually quite comfy, those laurels of mine) and enjoy a little bit of calmness before the true insanity of the Advent/Christmas season explodes around me.
The long version: Well, I'm going to save that for another, more serious (but equally happy) post.
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