April 24, 2010
Saturday, 10:52 A.M.
Home
For the first time in two months, I am sitting in my own place after my English 101 class. There was no after class call to Carol Ann to tell her I'm on my way, no 7-11 stop to fill up the coffee cup for the drive to Malverne, no orange Powerade to buy, no wondering if I will be able to get my friend outside in the sunshine. Last week I left class and was still on my way to her; to bid her the last goodbye. This morning, I am missing that routine, I am missing her, and I am using my blog to fill the void for the moment. I have been remiss for the last couple of weeks. Even my spirit hasn't been willing. My mind consistently reminded me, even badgered me to keep up with this assignment, but my heart just couldn't get me off the couch to fulfill my obligation. But here I am again, plodding through another entry and trying to figure out how I am going to make up the ones I have missed.
Sharing Carol Ann's final path in this life was an amazing experience. Being by her side as she took the steps toward the unknown was a gift beyond all measure. I will be forever grateful to the powers that be that she knew she was loved and not alone in this world; that she would be missed and her moving on would leave a void in the hearts of others. I am finding difficulty in accepting that she is no longer physically reachable. The reminders keep coming to me in little pin pricks teasing my brain when I am least expecting them. Maybe they are triggered by a sight or a smell or a memory no matter how unrelated to Carol Ann they may seem. So many pricks over the last week and a half when I believed my thoughts were totally occupied elsewhere, sharply invaded my thought space; her empty house, her orphaned cats, her abandoned car, her idle treadmill, her dark resting place, her cluttered e-mail, her silent home, her ownerless things, her smile, her inflections, her quirks, her songs, her expressions. What will I do with my Saturdays? She was proud of me for going to school. She read my first paper with Professor Kinsley's remarks and said, "You told me the professor said you were a good writer. You were wrong, she said you are a terrific writer." That was when she told me she was proud of me both for school and for another project I had once been involved in. It's nice to have someone in your life who is proud of you and lets you know it. I will miss knowing...
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Never Again CarolAnn's house
April 17, 2010
Saturday, 9:17 P.M.
Home
It occurs to me I will never again enter CarolAnn's house as my location for this blog. All kinds of little things like that are occurring to me in the last few days. I said my final worldly goodbye to my friend today. Her family held only a graveside service, purportedly according to CarolAnn's wishes. I suppose that is possible. Ca was more into the party that would be held afterward than the solemn goodbyes of a wake. I learned through this experience though, that for my loved ones, the people who really care about me, the wake is a final gift that I can give to them. Speaking for myself, I wish she had been waked. I wish we had her pictures to look at and anecdotes to listen to. I wish we had had a few hours to sit with her in the room and adjust to the finality of it all. The wake prepares the people who love you for the graveside service, for the inevitable parting. When my time comes, I don't really care how, or who, or what, or why, they can do whatever they want, whatever is best for them. I have learned through this that at that point, it isn't all about me-it's about them and my love for them. Another gift from CarolAnn; I wouldn't have ever realized that if I hadn't had this experience.
We will have a party on May 22nd. Our trusty piano player and accompianist will be back from his cruising, heartbroken that he is not be here to say goodbye, and all her music friends will get together to give her the party sendoff she so adamantly wished for. There will be music and laughter and drink and food and her spirit will soar with joy. I can't begin to describe the void that is left in my heart, my soul, my world. God, how I miss her...
Saturday, 9:17 P.M.
Home
It occurs to me I will never again enter CarolAnn's house as my location for this blog. All kinds of little things like that are occurring to me in the last few days. I said my final worldly goodbye to my friend today. Her family held only a graveside service, purportedly according to CarolAnn's wishes. I suppose that is possible. Ca was more into the party that would be held afterward than the solemn goodbyes of a wake. I learned through this experience though, that for my loved ones, the people who really care about me, the wake is a final gift that I can give to them. Speaking for myself, I wish she had been waked. I wish we had her pictures to look at and anecdotes to listen to. I wish we had had a few hours to sit with her in the room and adjust to the finality of it all. The wake prepares the people who love you for the graveside service, for the inevitable parting. When my time comes, I don't really care how, or who, or what, or why, they can do whatever they want, whatever is best for them. I have learned through this that at that point, it isn't all about me-it's about them and my love for them. Another gift from CarolAnn; I wouldn't have ever realized that if I hadn't had this experience.
We will have a party on May 22nd. Our trusty piano player and accompianist will be back from his cruising, heartbroken that he is not be here to say goodbye, and all her music friends will get together to give her the party sendoff she so adamantly wished for. There will be music and laughter and drink and food and her spirit will soar with joy. I can't begin to describe the void that is left in my heart, my soul, my world. God, how I miss her...
Thursday, April 15, 2010
If I've Learned Anything...
April 15, 2010
Thursday, 5:43 P.M.
Home
...it's to be more patient and yes, even appreciative of the annoying traits of those I love. CarolAnn had a couple of things that really annoyed the heck out of me. She needed constant reassurance. She would ask over and over again how her singing performance was, how the meal she cooked tasted, how the flowers she planted looked, and you learned in pretty short order to be complimentary or incur her wrath. She was very set in her ways, overly loyal to product brands, and pretty gosh darn judgemental. I grew impatient with her on many occasions due to these petty annoyances. I never looked at her and thought to myself, "Hmmm, if she were to die tomorrow, would these quirks be annoying or would they be endearing?"
CarolAnn moved on yesterday. Though I will not canonize her in death any more than I would in life, I do know that those little quirks have shifted one hundred eighty degrees to endearing. To realize that I will never again hear her sing that song or cook me that dinner or enjoy the plants in her backyard; to have it sink in that calling her or visiting with her is no longer an option; to accept that she hasn't gone on vacation or moved away one day to return; to absorb that she has left this world for the rest of my time in it, is having a huge impact on my perspective of who I am. To have had the gift of sharing this journey with her will alter my sanctimonious attitudes. I am not the judge, my way is not necessarily the right way, my thoughts and feelings are no more important than anybody else's. If I have learned anything, I have learned that love does not judge, love just loves moment by precious moment and I don't want to let any more of those moments pass by, wasted in petty annoyance.
Thursday, 5:43 P.M.
Home
...it's to be more patient and yes, even appreciative of the annoying traits of those I love. CarolAnn had a couple of things that really annoyed the heck out of me. She needed constant reassurance. She would ask over and over again how her singing performance was, how the meal she cooked tasted, how the flowers she planted looked, and you learned in pretty short order to be complimentary or incur her wrath. She was very set in her ways, overly loyal to product brands, and pretty gosh darn judgemental. I grew impatient with her on many occasions due to these petty annoyances. I never looked at her and thought to myself, "Hmmm, if she were to die tomorrow, would these quirks be annoying or would they be endearing?"
CarolAnn moved on yesterday. Though I will not canonize her in death any more than I would in life, I do know that those little quirks have shifted one hundred eighty degrees to endearing. To realize that I will never again hear her sing that song or cook me that dinner or enjoy the plants in her backyard; to have it sink in that calling her or visiting with her is no longer an option; to accept that she hasn't gone on vacation or moved away one day to return; to absorb that she has left this world for the rest of my time in it, is having a huge impact on my perspective of who I am. To have had the gift of sharing this journey with her will alter my sanctimonious attitudes. I am not the judge, my way is not necessarily the right way, my thoughts and feelings are no more important than anybody else's. If I have learned anything, I have learned that love does not judge, love just loves moment by precious moment and I don't want to let any more of those moments pass by, wasted in petty annoyance.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Research Paper
April 11, 2010
Sunday, 10:35 A.M.
Home
“After forty eight hours, you know it’s not yours…And I know it sounds terrible, but then you think, ‘Thank God it’s not mine.’”
These are the words of Kelly Bridson, wife of Army Spc. Joe Bridson who, in October of 2007, was stationed in Samarra, Iraq. She waited anxiously on a daily basis for the phone calls from her husband that assured her, for at least one more day, that he was still alive and well. When those calls didn’t come, she knew it most often meant that someone in his company had been killed or injured and the Army had cut communication until the next of kin could be notified.
Families with loved ones in the military expect that their husband, wife, son, or daughter will be deployed to the hot spots during war time and do their best to prepare themselves for that contingency. What has not been expected, is tours lasting fifteen months and the prospect of repeating those tours two, three, and even four times. In the days of the draft, which was ended in 1973, if a soldier was sent to war, he served for twelve months and was not forced to return for a second tour of duty. The mental and emotional impact of the horrors of war is
almost unfathomable. To be exposed to it as a routine part of one’s life could be tantamount to the torture we so vigorously oppose using against our enemies.
This piece will explore the impact of redeployments to the Middle East on the soldiers, themselves, and their families. It will also attempt to weigh the pros and cons of an all volunteer military force versus conscription to the service.
Sunday, 10:35 A.M.
Home
“After forty eight hours, you know it’s not yours…And I know it sounds terrible, but then you think, ‘Thank God it’s not mine.’”
These are the words of Kelly Bridson, wife of Army Spc. Joe Bridson who, in October of 2007, was stationed in Samarra, Iraq. She waited anxiously on a daily basis for the phone calls from her husband that assured her, for at least one more day, that he was still alive and well. When those calls didn’t come, she knew it most often meant that someone in his company had been killed or injured and the Army had cut communication until the next of kin could be notified.
Families with loved ones in the military expect that their husband, wife, son, or daughter will be deployed to the hot spots during war time and do their best to prepare themselves for that contingency. What has not been expected, is tours lasting fifteen months and the prospect of repeating those tours two, three, and even four times. In the days of the draft, which was ended in 1973, if a soldier was sent to war, he served for twelve months and was not forced to return for a second tour of duty. The mental and emotional impact of the horrors of war is
almost unfathomable. To be exposed to it as a routine part of one’s life could be tantamount to the torture we so vigorously oppose using against our enemies.
This piece will explore the impact of redeployments to the Middle East on the soldiers, themselves, and their families. It will also attempt to weigh the pros and cons of an all volunteer military force versus conscription to the service.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
The CarolAnn I Know So Well
April 11, 2010
Saturday, 7:55 P.M.
CarolAnn's house
To watch my friend holding court in her bedroom today, was a sight to behold! After two weeks of barely being able to speak, she propped herself up against the pillows and animatedly chatted and laughed (yes, I said LAUGHED!) with no less than five guests at a time for four hours straight. The number of people who decided to visit on this fine spring Saturday afternoon was staggering. As one or two would leave, one or two others rang the doorbell to replace them. CarolAnn seemed to become more animated and sociable with each new face. She even had a craving for a spaghetti dinner (with extra sauce, no meatballs) and actually got a few forkfuls down. It is evening now and the only people here are the hospice nurse, CarolAnn and myself, but there is a little brighter atmosphere this evening than there has been for a while. Don't misunderstand. I know this doesn't indicate that everything is great and next week she and I will take a trip to the jazz clubs in the city, but it sure was a lovely way to spend this Saturday afternoon. For a brief time, I saw the CarolAnn I know so well and it was a pleasure.
Saturday, 7:55 P.M.
CarolAnn's house
To watch my friend holding court in her bedroom today, was a sight to behold! After two weeks of barely being able to speak, she propped herself up against the pillows and animatedly chatted and laughed (yes, I said LAUGHED!) with no less than five guests at a time for four hours straight. The number of people who decided to visit on this fine spring Saturday afternoon was staggering. As one or two would leave, one or two others rang the doorbell to replace them. CarolAnn seemed to become more animated and sociable with each new face. She even had a craving for a spaghetti dinner (with extra sauce, no meatballs) and actually got a few forkfuls down. It is evening now and the only people here are the hospice nurse, CarolAnn and myself, but there is a little brighter atmosphere this evening than there has been for a while. Don't misunderstand. I know this doesn't indicate that everything is great and next week she and I will take a trip to the jazz clubs in the city, but it sure was a lovely way to spend this Saturday afternoon. For a brief time, I saw the CarolAnn I know so well and it was a pleasure.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
I Know...
April 8, 2010
Thursday, 9:06 P.M.
Home
It's a terrible thing to say and not a thought that is outwardly expressed very often, but this cancer thing literally becomes a death watch. I am watching the fading of a light in the vigil I keep with my friend. The transformation from vital, healthy, independent, feisty, talented, funny, sometimes unbearably arrogant woman to very dependent patient has been swift, far swifter than I had hoped. Her moments of lucidity are becoming fewer and farther between; as are her waking ones. When I enter her room in the middle of the night, I may find her crying quietly to herself and when she is aware that I am there, she will tell me "I can't do this anymore". I have gotten beyond scoffing when she speaks this way. No longer do I urge her to be strong and fight. I simply sit by her side, brushing back the hair from her very drawn, grey pallored face, cover the very thin, fragile body with another comforter, and tell her, "I know."
Thursday, 9:06 P.M.
Home
It's a terrible thing to say and not a thought that is outwardly expressed very often, but this cancer thing literally becomes a death watch. I am watching the fading of a light in the vigil I keep with my friend. The transformation from vital, healthy, independent, feisty, talented, funny, sometimes unbearably arrogant woman to very dependent patient has been swift, far swifter than I had hoped. Her moments of lucidity are becoming fewer and farther between; as are her waking ones. When I enter her room in the middle of the night, I may find her crying quietly to herself and when she is aware that I am there, she will tell me "I can't do this anymore". I have gotten beyond scoffing when she speaks this way. No longer do I urge her to be strong and fight. I simply sit by her side, brushing back the hair from her very drawn, grey pallored face, cover the very thin, fragile body with another comforter, and tell her, "I know."
Monday, April 5, 2010
Sea of Confusion
April 5, 2010
Monday, 7:12 P.M.
Home
This is just one of those hello goodbye entries. I attended my math class tonight, have a test Wednesday, and I'm finding myself floating in a sea of confusion regarding the new material. I need to sit and learn, learn, learn between now and then. This is on top of spending about 15 to 20 hours on studying for this test last week. I'm hoping, but I'm shaking...
Monday, 7:12 P.M.
Home
This is just one of those hello goodbye entries. I attended my math class tonight, have a test Wednesday, and I'm finding myself floating in a sea of confusion regarding the new material. I need to sit and learn, learn, learn between now and then. This is on top of spending about 15 to 20 hours on studying for this test last week. I'm hoping, but I'm shaking...
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