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Archive for the ‘Life Lessons’ Category

It takes a lot more than sperm to be a father.  I was blessed to have a very amazing father in my life who is gone now.  I miss him each and every day.  Roy was blessed to have a grandfather who was an equally as amazing father to him.  I wish I’d had the pleasure of meeting him and I wish I had a picture of his grandfather to share today. 

I can still hear my daddy’s voice.  I can still smell his presence.  I miss him each and every day.  

So … since I’m a little sentimental right now … please tell whoever your father figure is/has been … even if it’s more than one person … what they mean to you.  Do it now.  You never know how much time you have.  

Happy Father’s Day to each and all of you that fit the category of father.  Standing up as a man and being a father is not for the faint of heart.  May God’s wisdom and blessings be on every one of you on Fathers Day and every day.


Glenn B Crowley 
8.25.24 – 8.28.92

I miss you, daddy … each and every single solitary day.

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Yesterday was the 16th anniversary of Keegan’s death.  While it’s not something I choose to celebrate, it’s something that’s hard not to acknowledge because it’s woven into the very fabric of my being.   If you can’t understand completely … be thankful … but at least be compassionate to those of us that live it 24/7 forever and always.  All 3 of my children are part of me, whether currently on this earth or not.  The love will be there no matter where they are or what they say and do.

https://abedformyheart.com/7-things-since-loss-of-child/

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I thank God for allowing me to be blessed with three amazing children I gave birth to and one equally as amazing son-in-law.  I am not sure who has learned more from the experience of being there as you all have moved through life, me or you, but I’m blessed to be considered your mother/mother-in-law.  Even with 3 of you now as adults and 1 of you waiting in heaven for me, you are all miracles in your own right. 

Happy Mama’s Day from your Mama!  I love you all more than words can express.  💕 

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There was a homeless man up until recently here in my adopted home town that generally hung out near the McDonalds just off the freeway, but he was always nice, friendly, never caused issues, just meandered around.  Everyone around here knew who he was and pretty much watched out for him as “one of their own”.  I think a lot of small towns and neighborhoods have a guy like that … at least much of Main Street Conservative USA does.  

Anyway, sadly he died a few weeks ago.  It took the local authorities a few days to locate his next of kin, but apparently his family lives in NY.  I live in CA.  A lot of people around here thought he was a native to the area, but that wasn’t really the case.  The gentleman’s name was Elliot, and he was only 57.  He had mental issues, but he was never rude or aggressive or anything.  He was protected and loved by the residents of his adopted home town.  

In any case, his younger brother who didn’t even know where he was until a Placerville detective tracked him down wrote a letter to the area … essentially a eulogy for his long lost brother … that when I read, I cried for who this man was and the demons he fought in his head.  I cried because I can see someone I know and care for deeply in the stories shared with us about him.  The letter, though, was beautiful.  It was written as only a concerned sibling could write.   If you’re at all interested, this is the link to the article about Elliot:
 
http://inedc.com/14/“elliot’s-war”-memorial-placerville-homeless-man 

To my loyal readers, I offer this as a simple story about a local icon named Elliot who fought demons most of us cannot understand or imagine, even while being raised in good circumstances.  You just never know what someone may be enduring.  As my father used to say, “there, but for the grace of God, go I”.

Elliot, the residents of Placerville will miss you.

 

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Those of you that have read my blogposts throughout the past several years know that I write about a variety of topics.   I couldn’t limit myself to one thing if I tried.  I have entirely too many interests and ideas as well as a multitude of life experiences, being the age that I am.   

One of my common topics, however, is my children.  All of them are among the most important things in my life and have all made me the person I am today.  Through all of the ups-and-downs, all three of them have made an amazing impact on me. 

My middle child, Keegan, died when he was 17 years old, one year post double lung transplant.  He had an amazing old soul and touched more people in his short 17-year life than most people do in 80 or 90 years.   All of this I have discussed previously.  However, this morning, shortly after I arrived at work, it again became apparent how much impact he had.  I received a message from one of his high school buddies.   I can flat out say … I UGLY cried … which sounds terrible but it was a “truly-touched-my-soul-to-the-core cry” … and once again convinced me of what a truly remarkable being Keegan is/was.

 
Anyway, shortly after I arrived at work, I noticed a private message that had been sent to me via social media.  I checked and noted it was from a good friend that was one of Keegan’s really good buddies throughout school.  Her name is Ann and she has her own blog at:

 http://lostandfarm.wordpress.com 

 
Check her out. She is a wonderful friend, wife, and mother with a wealth of wisdom to share.

 
Anyway, I received the following message from her this morning:


 

 

 
 She then proceeded to state the following: “I don’t know if you remember Colleen ____ (she’s Colleen Houser now) but she asked if I know how to reach Keegan’s family still because she wanted to let them know that Keegan touched a lot of lives and will never be forgotten.  I told her I would pass the message on.”

 
I responded with: “You are more than welcome to give her my email and have her contact me through Facebook.  I’m sitting here sobbing at work.   He died the end of May.”

 
This is what I received in return from Ann: 
 

“I’m sure she’d love that. … she basically grew up with us and we all went to high school together. 🙂  She was often in on our shenanigans with Keegan.   LOL!  These are her books, by the way.”

 
There was more, but I’ll leave it at that.  Colleen contacted me through Facebook.   I remember her as part of the crowd that all were silly together in high school with Keegan and who he counted as friends.  I encourage you to go to her Amazon website and check her out.  It’ll be well worth it.  Her Amazon.com author page is:

 
https://www.amazon.com/Colleen-Houser/e/B00C5RHY00/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1491593348&sr=1-2-ent 
 

I’ll end with this.

 

Even if your life is short, go out and do something big.  Affect the lives of those around you, however you can.   Uplift.  Share.  Enjoy.  Put yourself out there.  Don’t live small.  Live large and you will make a difference.

Carry on, all. 

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For those of you that know (or even for those that don’t know), I had a torn rotator cuff.  My surgery was 6 weeks ago.  I’ve been back to work for 4 weeks.   

I was finally allowed to remove the sling on Friday.   My arm still hurts like ____ and physical therapy is sheer torture due to the stiffness of it, but it’s moving along well (at least according to my surgeon and my physical therapist).   I’m right handed … and of course it was my right shoulder … so it’s been entertaining (to say the least) to function left-handed the past 6 weeks.  I still am for that matter as my arm strength and mobility just isn’t there yet. 

I can finally type a little better … so here are my words of wisdom: 

Don’t tear your rotator cuff.
Whatever it is I did, DO NOT DO THAT. 

 At least the surgery went well and in the long run, it’ll be much better than prior to surgery … but still … it’s not something I’d want to do often anyway.  (More rotator cuff blogs from my viewpoint will follow soon.)

So anyway …

Don’t do it. 

Just don’t. 

That is all. 

Carry on.

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There are those people in each person’s life that seem to be almost indestructible.   They endure and come out of all sorts of things and always land on their feet.  I have been blessed with long-time family friends … people that were friends of my parents before my sister and I were born … before their children were born … that were like an aunt, uncle, and cousins to me … people that we’ve been through highs and lows with and still are friends … and our children are friends.

 

I’ll back up.  My parents got married in 1949.  I believe it was a year or two after that they had gone on vacation and had met a couple to whom they took an immediate liking.   This couple they later found out was on their honeymoon when they met.  It was a constant source of a joke back and forth between them from then on.   The friendship stuck and they began a lifelong journey together.  My father and the other gentleman had both fought in World War 2 and had seen various things in battle so they had an immediate bond that comes from that “brother” relationship that military men (and women) all share.  While my father had served in the North Atlantic, the other man had served in the Pacific … and had stories of being shot down over the Pacific and having been the only survivor.  He was a true hero who had floated in the ocean for hours before being rescued.  His wife was a middle school math teacher who terrified me and who I wanted to be around all at the same time and who probably operated her classroom as a drill sergeant might, but she had a heart of gold.  She is the one that taught me how to bake my own bread (something I dearly love to do) and how to make pie crust that people still rave over.  My parents both graduated from the University of Southern California (USC).  The other couple had graduated from the University of California Los Angeles (UCLA).  For those readers that don’t know, there is a deep-seated rivalry between those schools.   There was a friendly teasing back and forth between them over which school was better.  Whenever there was a sports game between them, there would be all sorts of jokes.  It was something I enjoyed hearing.

 

My sister is the oldest of the children born to these two couples (1952).  Their daughter was the next (1953).  Their son and I were born the same year (1954).  Yes, I am that old.  Get over it.  😏

 

Growing up, I remember the card games and dinner parties they had.  They visited us around the country when we moved around.   We visited them.  We’d show up and surprise them.  We’d plan trips over Thanksgiving weekend to all enjoy together.  We played charades (drunken charades, by the way, was by far the most fun), play cards, and play in the snow.  We’d talk, fight, laugh, and enjoy ourselves like family does.  We’ve been through relocations, financial set-backs as well as financial upswings, marriages, divorces, deaths, remarriages, illnesses, joys, sorrows, and accepted all of each other’s strengths and weaknesses.  Essentially … we’ve handled life in general together with all of the normal day-to-day ups-and-downs while continuing to love one another.  

 

My father was the first to die in 1992.  My 2nd son died in 2001. Their daughter died in 2008.  Their mother died in 2013.   Their father died roughly a week ago (2016).  On our side, my mother is thankfully still with us … as are my sister and me (obviously).  On their side, their son is still strong and healthy.  Now, grandchildren and great-grandchildren have entered into the fray.   Through all of this, we are all still hanging in together … my mother, the remaining children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.

 

It’s something hard to fathom … all of this from a chance meeting in the late 1940s/early 1950s of two couples that were thankful they’d survived World War 2 and had found people with whom they enjoyed spending time.   It’s hard to get used to these pillars in my life being gone.  These are those indestructible adults I grew up with throughout my childhood … that yelled at me, laughed with me, taught me, listened to me, loved me, and nurtured me … no matter what dumb thing I had done or how smart-assy I was.   They were proud of my accomplishments and there to pick me up in my failures.   So many of these wonderful people are fading away.  

Cherish those that are still in your lives.

 

Life is fleeting.

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