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Posts Tagged ‘life lessons’

As an “essential employee” 🙄 in downtown Sacramento, I took these pictures from the commuter bus window this morning. At least the government panic mongers can’t take this beauty away from us. Don’t let the tyranny going on right now destroy you as a person.

… and … if by magic … this song, as sung by #AnneMurray (a beautiful version by the way), came up on my music playlist …

“Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue and the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true …”

Carry on fighting the GOOD fight. ❤️

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My newest pet peeve term:

SOCIAL DISTANCING

What an idiotic overly PC phrase.

Please, people … just stay away from others when you are sick … like you should do anyway. This isn’t a new concept. I would like to think your parents taught you that growing up.

🙄

It goes with:

***

REACHING OUT
IT IS WHAT IT IS
CRAZY BUSY
CLOSURE (when grieving)

***

Those are all lazy PC terms.

There. I said it AND I MEANT IT.

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I know I haven’t written a blogpost in a while, and I’m ok with that, because I use writing as a cathartic release for me to release feelings, frustrations, and all.  In all of it, however, if I can help someone, I’m glad, because my purpose in life is to help others get through their own grief and setbacks (of which I’ve endured many as have so many of you) as well as to rejoice in any and all accomplishments.

Anyway, I’m having a rough day today. I have four children, two sons and one daughter that I gave birth to and then my wonderful son-in-law. I love them all dearly.  I also have one grandson (so far … hint hint … to my daughter and son-in-law … 😏). He is the light of Roy’s and my lives, and he’s most DEFINITELY (at least currently) my very favoritest of favorite little faces.  My second son and middle child died many years ago (as I’ve discussed before). My first son (and oldest child) and I have a very strained relationship.  I haven’t seen him in several years, and it hurts my mother’s heart to the core.  Essentially it feels like I’ve lost both sons, and it hurts beyond belief.

Now don’t get me wrong!  I have a wonderful life (with all of its ups-and-downs), and my daughter, son-in-law, and grandson are sheer joys to Roy and me.  Nevertheless, some days are harder than others, and the weight of it all drags me into a very deep hole until I remember to count my many blessings and carry on.  Life is to be lived and not just existed in or suffered through!

Today however is one of those days where my heart is very heavy. It is my oldest son’s birthday (the one that I haven’t seen in a long time).  He’s 37.  I won’t go into all of the reasons why we haven’t seen each other, because it’s between him and me, but since I can’t see him, I then start thinking of my other son who died when he was 17 of Cystic Fibrosis and how hard we tried to keep healthy, and it hurts that I can’t see either one of them (although I know I will when I move out of this life).  When I get like this, my supportive husband, Roy, along with my wonderful daughter hold me together.  Even though Roy has had his own losses (which I won’t discuss here either since those are his personal losses to discuss or not as the case may be) and my daughter has essentially lost both brothers (since she doesn’t really see her oldest brother either), they are always there for me. I guess that’s why we are so close, because we understand each other’s brokenness.

Anyway … below are the lyrics to a very nostalgic song originally from the 1930s, but it always makes me think of my husband as well as all of my children and grandchildren … whether I can be with them or not.  So here’s to my four children … and to my one grandchild (so far 🙂 ).

 –

I’LL BE SEEING YOU

by Sammy Fain and Irving Kahal)

I’ll be seeing you

In all the old familiar places

That this heart of mine embraces

All day through –

In that small café,

The park across the way,

The children’s carousel,

The chestnut tree,

The wishing well.

I’ll be seeing you

In every lovely summer’s day.

In everything that’s light and gay,

I’ll always think of you that way.

I’ll find you in the morning sun,

And when the night is new,

I’ll be looking at the moon,

But I’ll be seeing you.

I’ll be seeing you

In every lovely summer’s day.

In everything that’s light and gay,

I’ll always think of you that way.

I’ll find you in the morning sun,

And when the night is new,

I’ll be looking at the moon,

But I’ll be seeing you.

I love you all more than you know, no matter what happens between us. ❤️

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I personally truly *ABHOR* Valentines Day. Saving all your loving kindness up for one day to me is fake. Surprise the other person at random times throughout the year to show your true love. It’s a fake holiday.

So here’s my VD sentiment for Roy, as it fits our overall relationship:

🤢💕🤢

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I know I don’t write as often as some do, but I write when it is good for me or when I need to get something out as it can be very cathartic. At least that’s the purpose of my blog … to help me and to hopefully help someone else who runs into the same types of issues.

With my children, I’ve had highs and lows, great successes and great losses. Sometimes certain occasions and occurrences can evoke those up-and-down feelings in me. Right now is one of those times.

Roy (Papa) and I (Oma) had the great joy of being blessed with our first grandchild (Harrison) on 12.21.18. It’s a humbling feeling, quite honestly to view the next generation.

I have a true sense of joy from this, but I cannot help but wish that my late son, Keegan, could be there as his baby sister, Kara, becomes a first-time mama to Harrison. I can’t help but cry over the loss of a beloved uncle that would have loved this baby boy to pieces, spoiled him rotten, and taken him on crazy adventures.

I know that I am truly blessed … and my heart is overflowing … as are my emotions. Harrison and Keegan are loved beyond words, and this Oma/Mama is honored to be a part of their lives.

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I don’t know who originally wrote this or I’d give credit where credit is due.  It was anonymous when I received it as an email forward from a friend.  I generally don’t use email forwards but this is not only telling of current societal and cultural issues but also sad and unfortunately right on the mark for many that are your basic salt-of-the-earth citizens.

——

I USED TO THINK I WAS JUST A REGULAR GUY, BUT …

 

I used to think I was just a regular guy, but …..

I was born white, which now, whether I like it or not, makes me a racist.

I am a fiscal and moral conservative, which by today’s standards, makes me a fascist.

I am heterosexual, which according to gay folks, now makes me a homophobic.

I am non-union, which makes me a traitor to the working class and an ally of big business.

I am a Christian, which now labels me as an infidel.

I believe in the 2nd Amendment, which now makes me a member of the vast gun lobby.

I am older than 60, which makes me a bit less than I used to be.

I think and I reason, therefore I doubt much that the main stream media tells me, which must make me a reactionary.

I am proud of my heritage and our inclusive American culture, which makes me a xenophobe.

I value my safety and that of my family and I appreciate the police and the legal system, which makes me a right-wing extremist.

I believe in hard work, fair play, and fair compensation according to each individual’s merits, which today makes me an anti-socialist.

I believe in the defense and protection of the homeland for and by all citizens, which now makes me a militant.

Recently, a sick old woman called me and my friends “a basket of deplorables”.

I need to thank all my friends for sticking with me through these abrupt, newfound challenges in my life and my thinking!

I just can’t imagine or understand what’s happened to me so quickly!

Funny . . . it’s all just taken place over the last 8 years!

And if all this crap wasn’t enough to deal with, I’m now afraid to go into either restroom!

——

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It doesn’t matter how old someone is or how long a true “daddy” has been dead.  Today would be my father’s birthday.  I still miss him and I always will. 

I was an awkward gangly smart-mouthed little girl.  I was tall (actually … lol … I still am), skinny, red haired, fair skinned, and freckled.  I have worn glasses or contacts since I was 7 years old.  I was too smart for my own good and didn’t fit in with any particular crowd.  He always encouraged me to be who I was at my core and loved the fire in my soul.  Most definitely not everyone liked it, and it frustrated and angered him at times, but he never wanted to squelch it.  He celebrated me.  This is how he would have described me …

Nevertheless my daddy always made me feel beautiful … even when my sharp tongue got the better of me. 

I know I am incredibly blessed to have had a daddy like him.   Not everyone is so fortunate and I am sorry for that.  He taught me to be a strong lady that could handle and withstand anything life threw at me. 

Daddy, I miss you.  I always will.  Go fishing 🎣 with Grandpa and Keegan up in heaven today to celebrate 🎉 your birthday 🎂.  

❤️

Glenn B Crowley

8.25.1924

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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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My middle child was born on February 29, 1984 (yes, Leap Day).  I know I’ve stated that in prior blogposts, but this year it’s particularly of import to me anyway, because he’d actually have a “real” birthday.  He was one of the select few with that special day as his birthday.  I remember it well also.  He was born by emergency C-section, but he was a beautiful full-term baby.  We didn’t know what awaited us though with his health.  As I’ve stated before, he died on May 30, 2001 from complications of Cystic Fibrosis (CF) a year after a successful double lung transplant at Stanford University in Palo Alto, CA.  The fact that he had CF was a 1 in 4 chance for each child his father and I conceived.  We didn’t know that we carried that gene at the time, because it couldn’t be tested in advance then and it had never appeared in our family.  However, our beautiful 1 in 4 child was born on a day that happens only every 1 in 4 years.  Anyway, he had Cystic Fibrosis, something children that can’t pronounce it have called “65 Roses” over the years.

*~*~*

 

February 2001

 

 

*~*~*

 

 

65 Roses

The Wolverines

When I was just a small child, mama and daddy came to me.

They sat me down and told me of the flowers my sister received,

65 roses in yellow and red, made her so tired she had to stay in bed.

I just couldn’t believe the flowers my sister received

Made it so hard for her to breathe.

Why does she have 65 roses,

Must be her birthday today?

She must have been good to get 65 roses!

Why can’t she come out to play?

65 roses of yellow and red made her so tired she had to stay in bed.

I looked all around, but I couldn’t find

The 65 roses were on my mind.

When I’d grown up, I see that the only one thinking of roses was me,

And the reason that the 65 roses came

Was because I was too young to understand the name.

65 roses!

Cystic Fibrosis made her so tired she had to stay in bed.

65 roses!

Cystic Fibrosis!

I wish she had roses instead.

65 roses!

Cystic Fibrosis!

I wish that she could come out to play.

Life, one supposes, is no bed of roses.

I wish she had roses instead.

I wish she had roses instead.

65 roses.

Cystic Fibrosis.

 

 

*~*~*

 

 

August 1993

 

 

*~*~*

 

 

This post isn’t about all of that though.  I had to mention it however, because I found the song so amazing.  Also, Cystic Fibrosis (65 roses) was part of his life.

This post, however, is mainly about how he lived his life, albeit a short one.  He experienced more and touched more than most people do by the time they die at 80, 90, or 100 years of age.  He endured more pain than most anyone I know, but he enjoyed life to the absolute fullest.  He used to tell me that he didn’t want people to forget him and that he didn’t want them to think he just existed in life but that he truly lived life.  He absolutely abhorred the term “passed away” when referring to someone that has died.

“Mom!  That’s so demeaning.  It doesn’t even sound like they really lived.  They merely existed in life, and then they passed away and through.  Maybe some people live life that way, but when I’m gone, I want people to remember that I lived and that I then died.  I didn’t just exist.  I LIVED!”

This is why this song by OneRepublic is so appropriate to dedicate to him, not only because they have it dedicated to a fan of theirs that has Cystic Fibrosis, but also because, in his own words …

 

 

I LIVED

OneRepublic

Hope when you take that jump, you don’t fear the fall.

Hope when the water rises, you built a wall.

Hope when the crowd screams out, they’re screaming your name.

Hope if everybody runs, you choose to stay.

Hope that you fall in love, and it hurts so bad.

The only way you can know is give it all you have,

And I hope that you don’t suffer but take the pain.

Hope when the moment comes, you’ll say …

I did it all!

I did it all!

I owned every second that this world could give!

I saw so many places, the things that I did!

With every broken bone, I swear I lived!

Hope that you spend your days, but they all add up,

And when that sun goes down, hope you raise your cup!

Oh, I wish that I could witness all your joy and all your pain,

But until my moment comes, I’ll say:

I did it all!

I did it all!

I owned every second that this world could give!

I saw so many places, the things that I did!

With every broken bone, I swear I lived!

Oh with every broken bone, I swear I lived.

With every broken bone, I swear …

I did it all!

I did it all!

I owned every second that this world could give!

I saw so many places, the things that I did!

With every broken bone, I swear I lived life!

Oh I swear I lived!

 

 

 

*~*~*

 

 

 

February 2001

 

 

*~*~*

 

 

Ask his friends how he lived.  He lived it to the fullest.  Even at a camp held especially for transplant patients, he was all into the camp … and ended up with a broken bone in his ankle … but he lived … and he did it all.  He endured broken bones and a broken heart.  He experienced travelling to visit new places.  He never feared failing.  He owned every single solitary second that his God gave him, be it good or bad.  For that, he will forever be a role model and a hero to me.  If I could just be half as brave and daring as he was, I’ll know that I did life proud.

So on what would be his 8th “real birthday” … or the 32nd year since he was born … I’ll also offer this from one of Celine Dion’s hits … one of the ones that make me remember him so dearly, as he had said once that this made him think of me, how I worked to get the health care he deserved, and how he wanted to dedicate it to me.  That made me cry, because, in my mind, it better describes what he and both of his siblings did (and continue to do) for me.  I am now who I am … because all 3 of my children loved me.

 
  

 

Because You Loved Me

​​​​-as written by Diane Warren

​​​​-as sung by Celine Dion

For all those times you stood by me,

For all the truth that you made me see,

For all the joy you brought to my life,

For all the wrong that you made right,

For every dream you made come true,

For all the love I found in you,

I’ll be forever thankful, baby.

You’re the one who held me up,

Never let me fall.

You’re the one who saw me through it all.

You were my strength when I was weak.

You were my voice when I couldn’t speak.

You were my eyes when I couldn’t see.

You saw the best there was in me,

Lifted me up when I couldn’t reach.

You gave me faith ‘cuz you believed.

I’m everything I am,

Because you loved me.

You gave me wings and made me fly.

You touched my hand. I could touch the sky.

I lost my faith. You gave it back to me.

You said no star was out of reach.

You stood by me and I stood tall.

I had your love.

I had it all.

I’m grateful for each day you gave me.

Maybe I don’t know that much,

But I know this much is true:

I was blessed, because I was loved by you

You were my strength when I was weak

You were my voice when I couldn’t speak

You were my eyes when I couldn’t see

You saw the best there was in me

Lifted me up when I couldn’t reach

You gave me faith ‘cuz you believed

I’m everything I am

Because you loved me

You were always there for me,

The tender wind that carried me,

A light in the dark, shining your love into my life.

You’ve been my inspiration.

Through the lies, you were the truth.

My world is a better place because of you.

You were my strength when I was weak.

You were my voice when I couldn’t speak.

You were my eyes when I couldn’t see.

You saw the best there was in me.

Lifted me up when I couldn’t reach,

You gave me faith ‘cuz you believed.

I’m everything I am,

Because you loved me.

I’m everything I am,

Because you loved me.

*~*~*

 

 

*~*~*

 

Happy birthday, Keegan!  I love you forever and always!

 

 

 

 

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*~*~*

I do not know who drew this, but I saw it on my FaceBook feed this morning from one of my friends who has children that have died.  I cried while on the early morning commuter bus.  It touched me to my soul.  Every time I look at it, I get teary.  It was posted with the poem below.  It sums up what I tell people a lot with regards to my beloved son, Keegan, and his death.  Do not judge.  Unless you’ve been there … and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone … you don’t understand … and I hope you never have to understand.

*~*~*

DO NOT JUDGE

Do not judge the bereaved mother.

She comes in many forms.

She is breathing, but she is dying.

She may look young, but inside she has become ancient.

She smiles, but her heart sobs.

She walks, she talks, she cooks, she cleans, she works, she is

… but she IS NOT …

… all at once.

She is here, but part of her is elsewhere for eternity.

Author Unknown

*~*~*

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