The Girls from Athens

My husband signed up for a technical school to become an RV inspector and told me there were some activities for the wives to do while the guys were in class. I was here for 3 weeks so I figured, why not? 

One of the first activities I joined was a craft session. Everyone was meeting in the clubhouse and you could bring a craft to work on or something to share. I showed up without any crafts to share, although I had brought some things for myself to work on this trip. I just didn't have the materials to share it with everyone else. So I showed up empty-handed but that didn't matter. They were working on some pillows that were just tied together without any sewing. There were two or three ladies that seem to already know each other and had been doing this for a few weeks already. They told me about another lady who bought all these materials and stuffing to make these tied pillows and she left it here for everyone else when she was moving on. So I sat with them and listened to them and talked with them and made a little heart pillow that was lime green on one side and red on the other. It doesn't look like a real professional product but that's not the point; the point was I got to sit in community with these ladies and share some stories. Turns out we each had some things in common. They liked wine and they like to have parties and potlucks. We ended up planning a potluck for Saturday night followed by a bonfire. Most of them had some sort of military or law enforcement background with their husbands. They all wanted to get some exercise in the next morning we went walking around the lake getting in a couple miles. That led to invitations for more walking and possibly a wine tasting excursion although that hasn't happened yet. One of the ladies was in the nail manicure business and had brought some samples to try. I didn't get to try them that day but we exchanged Facebook information and soon we were following each other on Facebook. When the opportunity came up for another nail session, I knew I was in! I wanted to try it. 

So I took my laundry down to the clubhouse and started a load and then my friend showed up and we ended up being the only two there to do the nails that day. As it happened it was a perfect chance for us to talk, because on our last walk we were talking about spiritual things and visits from beyond after death. I shared that I had lost a son and she briefly acknowledged that she had also lost a son. So today gave us a chance to discuss that commonality and share our stories as we also gave ourselves a new manicure. We made a very comfortable and deep connection through our shared loss.

Although the circumstances of the loss of our sons was different, it was the same in that they were both tragedies and we had learned how to move on through life, never forgetting our children and still celebrating them along the way. 

I think I've made several new friends here that will probably stay in my life for a while, even if it's virtually on Facebook. We are all traveling in RVs, and while some are still working at careers online and maintain a home base, others are full-time RV'ers. As my husband and I expand and explore our travels, we may be running into these same people or even meet up with them from time to time and that would be really cool. 

Rob Reiner murdered by own son

 We heard in the news the other day that Rob Reiner and his wife had been found dead. Murdered, actually, by their own son, a son who struggled with drug addiction and whom they feared as they simultaneously endeavored to protect him and help him. 

I can relate. Watching out for a child, your child, who is in the throes of addiction or mental illness consumes your everyday thought and effort. Even as things seem to be going in a positive direction, the wheels can come off at any moment and disaster takes over. You fear that chaos and the dread that it will reappear. It affects you your relationships, your family, and every aspect of life even as you try to act normal and assimilate yourself into a normal looking lifestyle.

I feel guilty when I read about how tragically the Reiners' lives ended, as I also feel grateful that our family didn't have quite that same situation. The angel messages people received from Andrew as related to me said that he did it for me and that he loved me and that he was going to be okay. He took his own life and he spared us. One can't help but think of the biblical undertones by his act. He took his own life and relieved us of the burden of constantly worrying about him and monitoring him and trying to get him into some kind of treatment that never really took hold. It freed us to be able to go on with our own lives, and the act of being set free comes of the terrible burden of guilt which I feel and I know my daughters feel, and I'm sure my son's father and close family members feel.

That conflicted feeling that comes with this freedom is like walking a tightrope between depression and relief. The way I deal with it is to honor my son speak his name, tell his stories, and continue to share him with the people whose lives he touched. I choose to celebrate his life. 

Goodbye, Monique

 We knew you were fading and we so wanted to be by your site to comfort you and tell you how much you mean to us. Lee especially wanted to be there, but circumstances dictated that it was not appropriate. Taylor really to be there but he needed to figure out how... Mallory needed him and so did Claire, so he was feeling divided and torn and anguished. 

As you entered into Hospice, Taylor knew it was time, and he went. He stayed a week, by your side, saying and thinking all the things he wished he could hold on to. He loved you so much and he always did miss you. It was just never enough. 

Now you are gone and he is seeking ways to honor you and memorialize your existence. 

Dearest Monique

Dearest Monique,

First, I want to wish you a sweet belated birthday (08/03/25). I tried to think of something to give you that was meaningful and it took a while to figure it out. What I really want to give you is time. 

I searched the Internet and found a post by a feller by the name of Nick Deakin who was discussing how time was measured. He said:

"Without clocks, heartbeats were used to measure short increments of time in antiquity, boiling an egg, measuring speed, the number of knots on a rope when released from a ship, counted over heartbeats (approximately a second)."

I want you to know our hearts beat for you, every second, for eternity. I cherish our time spent texting and chatting as our friendship grew, and mostly, that day we spent together when you were here for Mallory's birth. That was a day in time I will always remember with awe for what it was and what it meant to Taylor to have you near. 

So I found this little clock and hope you will keep it near, and as the seconds tick on, know our hearts are treasuring you. 💕

Happy 42nd Birthday

****42****The meaning of Life

Happy birthday Andrew. Today you would have been 42 years old. It's been 16 years since we've been in your company. I hope you're flying high with the angels. We miss you!💞

This was shared to me from my sister Maryaina:

Andrew

Comments from my notes from Christopher Dilts, Angel Communicator

The analogy of Andrew needing to raise his vibration for his journey,” was he was riding a bike here on earth and he was ready to get to the next stage of his mission and needed to be flying in a jet”, to get it accomplished. He couldn’t do it from here.

We will learn from him. He is helping us let go and become more aware to have more love and acceptance of each other.  Let go of the fear.

Some will transform from this passing and some will not. Everyone will get what they choose to get from the experience. Some will need a nudge to look and see what changes their life must take so that they embrace life in a different manner. Let go of the fear.  Some will get great insight from this experience and grow. Some will close down sadly, closing off life.

What will you choose?

Many angels helped his transition. At the forefront is Archangel Michael, Protection and Archangel Zadkiel, Prayer.

Archangel Michael is dedicated to the preservation of the spiritual destiny of every soul.

Archangel Zadkiel guards the powers of invocation. The best known and most powerful form is prayer for the highest and greatest good from the deep call within your heart followed by thanks that it is heard.

After Easter is a very good time to pass over. It is a time full of grace. Many people die at this time and a high percentage by suicide. It is an easier transition and not evil in any way. It is an answer to a call to be in the ever-after for purposes our human forms do not comprehend.

Relatives were there to guide him.

Thursday April 16, 2009

April Showers

You know, I have a real love-hate relationship with April. On the one hand, everything in the outdoors is so beautiful and green. The flowers are beginning to show, starting with my calla lilies in the planter box that actually bloomed in March. It's the season of Easter and rebirth, regrowth, and renewal. What's not to love about April?

What's not to love is that we have lost so many of our dear family and friends in this month. April 15th is especially painful day for me. It is synonymous with tax day, but it is also the day my son was released from his suffering. Several years later, we lost my nephew on the 1st of April, No joke. My brother-in-law's birthday was in April and his untimely death was the catalyst to catapult me into a completely new life. But first I had to go through a long, painful season of rebirth and regrowth. 

I'm sure I could find many more parallels if I look for them, but right now the main focus is on my husband's dear best friend Jon, who went into hospice this week. He had been suffering from colon cancer for the past 3 years and it has overtaken his body. We are already grieving, praying, crying, and trying to deal with the inevitable finality that he will be leaving this Earth. We are praying along with this wife that he does accept the Lord Jesus as his Lord and Savior and enters into heaven where his wife Juliet will eventually join him in eternal life. But we know he will go straight to heaven because he's a good person. They are special couple who volunteered with us up at the racetrack and eventually got together in a very happy union. They got married on the same day as our wedding anniversary and we were so happy for them and honored to celebrate with them on that event. We also know because they got together later in life, as we did, that our time on earth is not nearly long enough, and we desperately want more time to spend together. God, Buddha, sacred spirits, a higher power, whatever it is that we believe in and gives us strength, will ultimately get us through and hold our energy forever.

Today on the 11th of April, I am looking for strength and wisdom to stand beside my husband and go through this time of grief. I will be the rock that my husband needs during this time. I know that in addition to losing his friend in current time, his emotions are coming up from all the losses he has suffered, including the loss of his mother when he was a young boy. That dark time is the one that continually haunts his dreams and shaped his future. 

But in the end, it is all out of our control. We give it up to God and ask for his forgiveness and his salvation. Amen. 

Andrew was a stand-up guy...

From a classmate—

I have a lot of fond memories with Andrew. I can't tell you how many times I saw him do the right thing when it was the hard thing to do. He was a stand-up guy, and I'll miss him.

A family who knew him through church, sports, school and socializing—

Andrew is remembered as a friend to all in our family. He was a great person to be around. He gave everything he did his best and he accomplished much. Andrew was a respectful, polite and obedient young man. A day has not passed since we learned about his death that we haven’t remembered something he said or did that brings a smile to our face. Andrew made many friends in his short time here and we consider ourselves very fortunate to be someone he touched. Kathleen, Bill, Jayne and Rebecca your son/brother is a very special person.

From a youth coach—

Andrew Ramos. What a kid. What a ball player. When I first coached Andrew in little league I knew he would give 110% all the time. It didn’t matter what position I had him play, he could do it all. He could hit, run, and field with the best.
Andrew was a very intense player and always wanted to do better each game; and he usually did. Andrew was one of the easiest kids to coach. He would listen and then would just go out on the field and do it. Sometimes Andrew would be his worst critic about how he was playing, but that didn’t matter because he would go back out there and try even harder to be the best he could.
I still remember that Ramos smile and that never ending desire to play baseball. Andrew had a real good throwing arm, so I guess I saw a quarterback in him, but that was not be because baseball was his true love.
As Andrew was getting older I would see him from time to time and he always had that big Ramos smile, and would ask: “How’s it going?” As I think about my past coaching career, Andrew always comes to mind because he was easy to coach and I could always count on him to do his best. The thing that I admired most about Andrew was his love of the game. Even though he is no longer with us, his memory will live on and will not be forgotten
Andrew, thanks for the time I got to spend with you.

My entry on the obituary guestbook—

Our loss of Andrew is so devastating and we will miss him in so many ways every day for the rest of our lives. The support we have already received from family, friends, hospital staff, employers, and everyone has been so gratifying and helpful in getting through the first week and I want everyone to know the worst is over...Andrew is safe and protected in the loving company of his grandparents, uncles and aunt who have gone before him.
It is our hope that you will remember Andrew with a smile as you perform a task, offer a service to someone, complete a project or participate in a sport or competition. As Andrew was loving and giving, so shall we endeavor to keep that spirit alive every day.

...so I think I will get up now and go clean the bathrooms and scrub some floors. I will do a thorough job and take pride in my work. That was Andrew's way...

Andrew would have turned 40 this year

It's been awhile since I felt compelled to write about anything, Even though my thoughts of Andrew constantly run through my head every day. I have little moments where he is present and I think about him. 

As we march through this year, several of Andrew's cousins and classmates are having their 40th birthdays. It's bittersweet for me to realize how long Andrew has been gone -- 14 years. I didn't get together and have any kind of a celebration for his would be 40th birthday this year. I just called the girls and talked to them on the phone, and talked to Bill, and then made some chili rellenos because Andrew likes them. I think we're all getting to the point where we don't need to cling to each other quite as desperately or something? I'm not sure what it is. We just don't want to make a big deal about his not being here. I guess it's just easier to acknowledge his absence in private. Either way it's sad.

This past weekend a family was recognized whose daughter was murdered while attending Cal Poly. It took 25 years for the Sheriff's department and the DA's office to piece together the puzzle and finally arrest and later convict the person responsible for her death. The sheriff's department had a rodeo this past weekend which I was part of the committee and the family of this girl and the prosecutors, cold case detective and a podcaster were recognized as honored guests. I got to meet the family and speak with them. It made me tremble inside because I knew their pain even though the loss of our children was under completely different circumstances. The way they persevered and were able to keep their daughter's memory alive is truly awe inspiring. They have to be the strongest people to be able to do that and walk through that pain and celebrate their daughter/sister publicly and privately.

The girls body has never been recovered. The killer has never confessed or given up any information that would lead to her whereabouts. They thought they had the location and they found so much evidence that she had been there, but they did not find her. I think I'm going to call on Andrew to help me remember to pray for this girl and pray for the family and pray that they are able to find her. 

I keep Andrew in his urn in the living room and he's with me everyday and I am blessed for that.

Naomi Judd passed away yesterday from Mental Illness

The how doesnt matter, nor should it be asked. Her daughters and family are grieving and trying to deal with the loss. It was just before she and her daughter Wynonna were to be inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame. They decided to go forward with it and honor their mother's legacy. Putting on a brave public face must have been extremely difficult, for sure. I know they're feeling the let down today. I know from experience that the ones left behind feel like they have failed. 

Mental illness is something Naomi has been dealing with and talking about publicly for many years. It's tragic that she did finally succumb, but the comfort is in knowing that she is released of her suffering here on earth. She was gifted in many ways and will be remembered lovingly. 

April 15

Besides being tax day, April 15th has a devastating connotation for our family being as the day that Andrew's Spirit left this Earth.

Today was my day off and I spent the day decorating cookies ironically for a friend's memorial celebration that we are planning in a week from today. I didn't even get dressed today. I stayed in my PJs all day, kind of rare and indulgent. It's been 13 years, and over the years on this day I've gotten together with my daughters, I've usually called Bill, but today I just stayed home and didn't call anyone. 

I did text the girls kind of an informal message but we didn't talk. I don't think it means we miss Andrew any less or whatever, I just think it means we are not wallowing in the pain so much and moving on with our lives. 

Andrew certainly isn't out of our minds, especially when I have to do voice reports dealing with suicides, mental illness, and so forth. Or I remember something funny Andrew did or said or one of the grandkids reminds me of him in some way. He is always with us.

I think I'll call Bill tomorrow, but today, it was just for me to be lost in my thoughts. 

Lunch with my new granddaughter

My oldest daughter invited Lee and I to lunch today so we could come up and visit and spend some time with her and my newest granddaughter. She had some gift certificates to use at a cute little restaurant located in a cozy historic home in Templeton. The menu featured many unique combinations. I settled on a Chutney and Brie sandwich and a cup of Moroccan chickpea soup. We sat out on the grand porch and enjoyed the cool breeze while we chatted and enjoyed our lunch.
It's a pretty amazing place to be right now and I'm talking about this time period of our lives. A couple of years ago, my daughter didn't have any plans to ever have children and she was lonely and pretty miserable about her prospects in life. That all changed for her when she began dating Rocky, and now 2 years later, they have a beautiful baby girl that they both love so much.
But the most amazing thing was on our way home, Jayne remarked that even though our family has gone through such really hard times and lost our beloved Andrew, we have come through stronger and tighter as a family. She said she is really happy with her life now as it is. I am glad that both of my daughters are happy, my stepson is happy, and Lee and I are happy. I am just so amazed that we have all progressed to this point. I thank God every day for these blessings.

Bringing County Mental Health issues into focus

Mental health treatment, liability and risk, inmate deaths at the County Jail...these topics are hot right now since the County recently settled a huge lawsuit with a family over the death of their son at the jail.

I was in attendance at my last all staff meeting of the human resources department yesterday. Our director was giving a briefing on current County issues, and the one at the forefront was a lawsuit resulting from the death of an inmate at the county jail.

The agenda was structured in such a way that there would be a few reports made, and then a round table discussion would take place where each staff member would report on their current activity and relay any information to the group that they felt was necessary. My turn to speak would be near the end and I was thinking of what I was going to say to the group as my turn approached.

My direct supervisor had mentioned in her report that I was leaving HR and going transferring back to work for the Sheriff's Department. So I led into my speil by thanking all of the staff members, as I looked around the room at each of them, for all of the experiences and assistance I had received in my year at HR. I told them that the two most impactful terms I had learned this year were: "organically", and "stretch assignment." They all laughed, because that pretty much sums up HR.

Then I briefly explained when I left the Sheriff's Department a year ago, I had to get out of the jail and off the night shift because it was killing me. I had planned  to make a new career, hopefully, in HR Risk Management, but then this opportunity came up for a Legal Clerk position that was too good to pass up. I would be going back to the Sheriff's Department, not at the inside the jail, but into the Records and Warrants Division, where I would be utilizing the skills I learned at HR to take on additional responsibilities and assignments and hopefully progress in that department as far up the chain as I would be able. The schedule, the days off, everything had aligned just as I had wished for, perfectly and organically.

Then I segued into the topic of the recent case and settlement. I told the group that I had an interest in the case because I had a son who had developed schizophrenia and committed suicide eight or nine years ago. I told them how we had tried to get help for Andrew and how difficult it was to navigate a system that doesn't clearly tell a person how to get help for mental health issues. I told them how it was my greatest fear that my son would end up on the streets and get arrested and taken to jail. I told them of how, while working in Booking, I would often take calls from parents or family members who expressed relief that their person had been arrested, because they felt that now they would be able to get the help they needed. I said to this group, of course, that is not how it works.

Mental health cases come in and out of the jail all the time when people are arrested for petty crimes. However, they don't get treatment until they have committed a heinous crime where they will spend a considerable amount of time in jail and psychological reports are mandated to prove their ability or inability to stand trial.

I mentioned that the jail is not equipped to deal with all these mental health cases, as has been stated in recent news articles. I emplored the HR staff to pay attention, and do what they could to ensure improvements in the system occur and that the Community is educated on ways to best intervene for their loved ones and get them the mental health treatment that they so desperately need.

From the moment I began talking about Andrew my tears started following and even though I couldn't look at anyone any longer I knew a lot of them were shedding tears also. I got a lot of hugs from my HR co-workers as the meeting ended and we headed out the door. Even the director came over and gave me a hug and expressed her sympathies for the loss of my son. I have to note here that I had been saying for the past month one of the reasons I was going back to the Sheriff's Department was because it felt more like a family and that I got hugs from the sheriff whenever I encountered him at the county building and I had missed all that. So now in my last meeting, I had made a rather deep and personal connection with the HR staff, and hopefully left them with something that they could relate to in a more human way as they managed their assignments dealing with County issues.

I feel a little guilty leaving my supervisor with the task of filling my job and my role, because I knew I had filled a big void in our Administrative Services Team. It had been a rocky journey for me and my supervisor, but I handled the problems I encountered intuitively, proactively, and  emerged with a base of good relationships with everyone I had worked with there.  My teammates have told me how much they're going to miss me and I know it's true. But fortunately, the stars have aligned, and the perfect person to replace me has appeared. The girl I am training is catching on so quickly and has enough experience in her background that she will be able to take what I have accomplished and run with it. My greatest contribution was in creating an accounts payable manual for our HR department that sifted through all the information and whittled it down to everything a person needs to know about our specific accounts payable responsibilities.

One big plus of what transpired in that meeting was that I did have the ear of the HR Director, who will have much influence on how the county procedes with mental-health issues. I know that I was able to create that emotional, human connection to the issue and that was exactly what I wanted to convey. Some of the comments I received afterward had to do with "being brave". I don't know about that, but I do know that I have put it out there into the universe, and I will be watching to see what the ripple effect could be.

Granddaughter's birth day

June 4, 2017  5:06 p.m.

I looked up and saw a hospital worker in blue scrubs come from the long hallway near the elevators and walk out into the lobby, alongside the Reception counter. Another visitor passed the worker on their way up to a hospital room, probably to visit another new mother. At first, I thought the visitor was going to ask the worker a question. I thought: "They never tell you anything." HIPPA laws. Privacy. 

My immediate next thought was: "The receptionist at Twin Cities Hospital had told me everything I needed to know and dreaded to hear after I gave her my son's name and she replied, 'Oh, I am so sorry. He is in ICU, third floor ...'" I knew, in that moment, my son was gone forever.

Here I was in another hospital, waiting on my oldest daughter to birth her first and maybe only little baby. I had called the hospital early in the morning after I saw some text messages from both of my daughters telling me she had gone to the hospital with labor pains. I called the hospital number first, thinking if my daughter was in labor, she might not be answering her phone. I gave my daughter's name, but the nurse who answered didn't seem to be able to confirm that she was there. She said I would have to call my daughter on her cell phone. Oh, privacy stuff.

Now it was just after 5 p.m. and we had been here since 8 o'clock this morning. A full week overdue, little Riley was finally almost ready to make her appearance into this world. My husband and I had been up in my daughter's room for most of the morning, talking with her and her fiance as the labor progressed along. My daughter had been administered an epidural to block the labor pains, so she didn't feel any of it once the epidural had taken effect. We could see the monitor recording spike after spike, and about the only discomfort my daughter was feeling was itchy skin and trying to find a comfortable position in the hospital bed. The blood pressure cuff was irritating her, as well, as it check her pressures every 30 minutes or so. We left the delivery room around 1 p.m., when the nurses decided it was time for my daughter to start pushing, a process they said could take several hours until the baby's arrival.

My daughter's fiance kept us informed on the progress by text messages. It was nice to get the updates every 10 or 15 minutes. Her water broke around 2 p.m. Another text: "Taking a break for an hour to see if the baby moves down more on her own", then, "trying to nap now".

The next text at 3:49 p.m. was, "Pushing and at 10cm at +2". Okay, all systems are go now. Baby should be here very soon. I was, in turn, texting Great- and Great-great Grandma's, Great-Aunties and my younger daughter with progress updates. The doctor was still not here. Waiting until the very last minutes...sheesh! Then one more text: "(Dr.) Spaulding is putting on the scrubs." Okay, here we go.

Another hour went by with no communication. Riley must have come and they were busy. Be patient. They will let us know soon. "Very soon now," I texted to all my contacts.I couldn't help myself...I started to get antsy. I walked down the long hallway and looked at all of the photography displayed along the wall. Finally, a text came through. "Grandma can come up and meet the newest grandchild." Yay! Just grandma, though. Mommy was not fully dressed, as it was baby-bonding time for the first couple of hours, skin-to-skin. Grandpa would have to be patient.

I went up and got my first peek at a fragile, tiny, skinny and wrinkled little chicken with pink cheeks, perfect bow lips and fuzzy, reddish-blonde hair. She was mewing like a kitten as she struggled to find her mommy's nipple and latch on. They hadn't weighed or measured her yet, as the bonding was the emphasis for now.

My daughter looked so exhausted. Then she told me about the scare that they had in the last minutes before delivery. Riley's heart rate dropped way low, then bounced back up, then dropped again. Suddenly, the delivery room population swelled from four people to eight as several other workers in scrubs appeared in the room. Nobody said anything, but my daughter was scared as she recognized their exchange of concerned looks and how they were all poised for action. She pushed again, as hard as she possible could, then another time...finally, the baby popped out! 5:11 p.m.

I knew it. I had felt it, that fear of losing your child. I felt it in those moments just before Riley was born. Kinetically attached to my daughter and granddaughter and Andrew. Thank God Riley was born healthy and we could see and touch her and love her forever.

Sean's Funeral

I just made it home from my nephew Sean's funeral. It went pretty well, considering it was my ex's side of the family who don't do funerals very well. It was a weird kind of deja vue, arriving at the funeral home for the service, because the place is so damn familiar. We have all been there together for many, many services over the past 20 years or so. One of the last ones was six years ago, today, for Andrew.

That fact made today especially hard on me, my girls, Bill, and anyone else who realized it. It was an ironic twist that landed Sean's funeral date on this day. My nephew Russell, who was left to plan everything, realized it after he had finalized all the arrangements, but there wasn't really anything he could do about it.

Bill said to me after the service, "It's just a thought. Let is go." I had, I thought, but it wasn't gone. It was just ironic.

There were lots of little ironies in this day. A little boy and his young mother were sitting in the same pew as we chose. The little boy looked at us and said, "Hi! I'm Kameron." Kameron, Sean's son Kameron? Oh yeah. Fine place to finally meet him. I lost it then. I was sitting there, feeding a bottle to my own little grandson, and thinking how this little boy would never really know much about his daddy. He might learn, someday, that his daddy was addicted to heroin and died by a drug overdose. I hope that doesn't define his daddy for him, because Sean was a sweet and fun boy. He just had a lot of pain to try to mask.

I was sitting in the pew behind my ex, on opposite ends. It wasn't intentional. We could have sat together and been just fine. My ex-sister-in-law who had been married to Bill's brother Don was sitting in the pew behind Don, too, on opposite ends. I wonder if that was planned or accidental? Anyway, we were all here, together, so to speak, for Sean. For the two remaining brothers, Russell and Cody. Just like old times, only completely different. No one would be hanging out at my house, drinking beer and barbecuing.

I saw a lot of ex-relatives that I hadn't seen since the last funeral. We decided we all had to stop meeting like this. Maybe the new generation of kids will start planning an annual barbecue so they can get together on happier circumstances. 

The service was actually pleasant, especially when compared to Sean's father Gary's funeral, or his mother Rollynn's. Both were so unbearable it was awful, because the priest that was sent over to do the service was a nut case. Russell was going to have the same one do this service, but he wasn't available. I guess he didn't remember how insane it was.  At least this person kept things in a good perspective.

I saw my niece from my side of the family there, along with her cousin who had once dated Sean. There were several of Sean's former girlfriends at the service. Anyway, small town. Everyone is related by one degree or another.

My oldest daughter was hoping to escape right after the service without having to deal with anyone. It was really a hard day for her. But it didn't quite work out that way. We visited with family and friends on the way out, and in the parking lot. Then my youngest daughter and her husband whom I had ridden with took me to my car and I headed home. I thought of Sean's little sons and started crying again.

As I got to the top of the grade, I thought about the photos my son had taken from the top, up the fire road. I wondered if I could drive up there? I pulled over and turned up the road. After a few feet, I could see the road was rutted with deep crevices that my car could negiotiate. I couldn't turn around, so I had to back down the hill. I turned to maybe go down the fire road heading south, but then I saw a "youth" in that roadway and decided not to drive by him. He just didn't look like a real good citizen. Foiled, I turned around again and got back on the highway.

Well, damn it! If I couldn't walk in Andrew's shoes today, I would at least cook a good piece of tri-tip for dinner and have a beer at home. Andrew would have like that.

More Grief

My nephew Sean died last week on a heroin overdose. It was April 1. His service will be held on April 15, a significant date because that is the day my son Andrew died in the hospital.

I am not sure how I feel about that date. Here at home, I am kind of indifferent about it and the upcoming service, but I know when the day gets here and I go through the group grieving process with the rest of the family, it will be much more real and difficult.

Like Andrew, Sean made a lot of friends in life. He was almost always smiling and happy, so it seemed. He liked to joke around, be active and light up a room. Unfortunately, he also liked to get high and escape all those painful memories that had taken over his life. A lot of his "friends" have been in jail, served time for petty drugs or burglary to get drugs, and some worse. All of these kids know each other, gotten high together, and they what each one has been involved with. They have gotten busted together, been to court and rehab together, achieved sobriety and washed it all away with another high down the road. 

Sean's father died when Sean was only 15 years old in a sudden traffic accident on his way to work, then his mother passed away eight years later from multiple internal failures probably steming from her alcohol and painkiller abuse. There was a lot of alcohol and substance abuse involved in their lives, and that pattern has been passed on to the kids. Even though Sean was the middle child with two brothers, he felt lonely and totally abandoned by his parents. They all do. Each one sought out coping mechanisms, but it seems that the older brother is managing to move on and live life in the most adaptive manner. He is married and has a good job and a wonderful wife. The youngest brother is still trying to find his way and has moved out of state with his girlfriend's family. We are all still waiting to see how that plays out.

I just know that the grief of Sean's passing is widespread among his friends and family, and that it just adds another layer of pain on top of the grief the surviving two brothers and the rest of the family will have to bear. How we all do it is a very individual thing.

Not looking forward to the 15th even more this year.

Weasel

Sometimes you just have to write it down right away, like right now. This is not about my son, Andrew, but it relates in a way. Writing it right this minute is risky, because I am at work, at my desk, facing the holding cells, but I want to remember my thought that are racing around in my head at this moment.

She’s back. It’s my older sister’s best friend from high school, and back then they called her, "Weasel". I am not sure where that came from, but it was her nickname. My sister's partner-in-crime, so to speak. They pushed the limits of what a kid should experience in high school, and in many ways, broke down barriers and helped set boundaries for me. I had a pretty good idea going in to high school what I could and couldn’t get away with, things I might get “killed” for by my Dad, and things that he could be reasonable about.

But this is killing me, seeing her like this at my workplace, the County jail. “Mary” is killing herself, slowly. So slowly its rather incredible. You don’t realize how much a human being can take. But she is taking and taking and taking. She is living on the streets, getting arrested every week and now every few days for being “Drunk in Public”, a high-crime in our parts. She looks bad, but oddly, not as bad as one would expect.

When I was 12, I worshipped her. She was an awesome horsewoman, and had her horse trained to follow her voice commands. She would say, “Load up,” and the horse would walk right in to the horse trailer. I had a rough, green-broke filly that I was trying to train to be a good gymkhana horse, even though I was a fish out of water. She traded me horses for a few months and spent some time training my horse while I got to ride her awesome horse, Brandy.

So when I see her in jail, sleeping off a drunk, it breaks my heart. As I see her come in time after time, it kills me…slowly. Obviously not literally, like she is killing herself, but it hurts. I wish there was something I could do, but at this point she doesn’t recognize me, I don’t have to interact with her, and its best to keep it that way. When an inmate discovers they know you, they talk about you to other inmates, they yell directly at you, they may bring up something hurtful or embarrassing from your past history with them…and that’s never a good thing. It would leave me vunerable. She had once posted something on my sister’s Facebook page about “who does she think she is?”, insinuating my sister had no business trying to run her business of healing therapies, trying to project a healthy and happy lifestyle. No matter how well a person is doing in recovery, this stuff brings you down a notch, sometimes all the way down.

I saw her on the street one day when I was out riding my bike. It was at a street corner about a block down from the Homeless Day Center. I had to stop for a red light, and she was stopped there, too. We were within arms reach of one another. I so wanted to say something, but, again, its not a good idea. I just gave her a smile like I would most anyone. She commented something to the effect, “Yes, I wait for green lights, too. Funny, huh, a homeless person waiting for a light to change.” I said something like that would be the logical thing to do, then the light did change and I pedaled ahead. Conflicted. But I keep on going. Sometimes that is all you can do, kind of like my own sister’s journey. She made the decision to get sober 25 years ago, and she has been living her life, going through her own struggles, but she is fighting to stay sober and live the best life she possibly can. She is a good and happy person. So to see this person left behind, hurts.

I always come back to Andrew in my thoughts of these people on the streets. He was so vunerable. The precarious bond of trust we had could have been severed at any time, and he would have been out on the streets with his increasing paranoia, victim of the harshness of that life. I am ever thankful that he didn’t end up on the streets, homeless. We took care of him the best we could and kept him safe from that, until he had enough and ended it. It could have, would have, gotten much worse. I need to remind myself of that. But it is still depressing.

Happy Birthday, Andrew! 30th!!!

So what would have been Andrew's 30th birthday arrived on Sunday. What a milestone. I really wonder how my boy would have been at 30? Better off? Worse? Things we will never know the answer to.

I watched some of his friends celebrate their 30th birthdays via Facebook. One of his friends, Deney, posted a nice acknowledgement of this marker year and how it felt to receive birthday wishes from so many people in his life via Facebook: friends, parents of friends, business associates, classmates, etc.

Actually, I will just quote to you what Deney wrote:

"I am feeling very blessed to have gotten to know so many wonderful people over these past thirty years! I feel that my 30's are going to be a pivotal point in my life and I can't wait to see what the future holds. Embrace life to the fullest everyday. Thank you for the birthday wishes and I hope that everyone has a great 2013!" -- Deney

Okay, so I can't help feel a bit envious. I wish my son could have had a day like that. I wish we could have shared it with him.

I remember my 30th birthday. My sister and sister-in-law made sure it was a big deal by arranging a wine tasting tour via limousine service. A coworker who was turning 21 went along with us, and a few more friends. I laugh about it, remembering what a wine-wuss I was in those days...I only tasted the whites and roses. I watched in awe as my sister-in-law tasted all the reds, too. Nowadays I am much more of a wine afficianado, so I actually prefer reds to whites.

I wanted my girls to come over and have dinner or something with us. For some reason my youngest wasn't up for it, and then my older daughter was trying to make plans for a date with a new friend. I figured, we can celebrate Andrew's birthday anytime, but I wanted my daughter to go on her date and have a good time. Move on! Embrace life!!! We could all meet up the following day, I reasoned. Still, I felt a little lost.

So I spent the day cooking a Portuguese dish from a recipe I found online, incorporating my farmer's market bounty of vegetables, something Andrew would have appreciated very much with his healthy-style of eating. I made a Portuguese Feijoada with Accompaniments: rice, collard greens and vinaigrette. The base of the stew was bacon and ham hocks with black beans--Andrew loved black beans! The vinaigrette was more of a salsa with vinegar, and it was delicious! I think Andrew would have loved this meal. I also made his favorite chocolate mayonnaise cake.

The meal was shared with my husband, my stepson and my brother who came over to visit. I had cooked the collard greens a couple of minutes too long so they were slightly scorched, but no one really minded. All in all, it was a small feast.

The next day I got ahold of the girls to figure out our plans. I got the hint they didn't want to drive over, so we loaded up and headed their direction, with a spaghetti casserole and the cake in tow. We ended up at my younger daughter's new place and had a very nice dinner, visiting and catching up on all the details of the older daughter's date and all. We mentioned Andrew briefly, but no one even brought up that it was his 30th birthday. We didn't light candles or sing. When it got time for cake, I cut into a very, very dense chocolate cake. It was almost like fudge. What did I screw up? I made it from memory, so I probably forgot a key ingredient...I went back through it in my head. Oh well, I will have to call my mother-in-law and ask her what I forgot. We all had a piece of cake and trashed the rest.

Life isn't perfect. We all keep on going anyway. Maybe this year is pivotal for all of us--maybe we are moving on.

An Act of Kindness

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cSMjgNMdzEI

Just watched this video...of course, thinking of Andrew. But on UTube there was a gun-control commercial at the beginning that is what really gets to me. A bunch of celebrities urging us to action regarding gun laws. I don't think it will address the root cause. I mean, yes, irresponsible people should not have access to guns. But if that is their weapon of choice, they will get it. or build a bomb. or start a fire. or poison someone.

We had to take guns away from Andrew one day. Actually, his step-mother-aunt and his cousin did it. I don't know what he intended to do that day, but he was in a manic stage and had a gun. His cousin got the gun. His aunt took the guns to another house so Andrew couldn't get them. He got through his phase and calmed down eventually. We should have called Mental Health that day...

What scares me is some of the people I have seen in our jail. One kid, under treatment but off his meds, killed two people in a random house around Christmas time. Another kid, off his meds, hacked up his step-brother. I am sure that they were out of their minds at the time, and when properly medicated, seem to be normal, friendly young men. Sort of...you know they are not normal. They will also be spending the rest of their days in Mental Health facilities. Andrew saw 4 days of that...and it was enough. Its no way to live.

Andrew knew he was not normal, and didn't think he could ever become completely normal again. He could try medication. He could try therapy and reprogram his thoughts. But he would never be normal, never feel right. That he knew. He also knew it could get much, much worse. I think that is why he decided to end it. He did it for us, so that we would not have to go through a much greater tragedy.

The gift is that we get to remember him as a handsome, healthy-looking young man with many talents, instead of broken and deplorable after having done something horrendous. He was outgoing and friendly, with a tender side for everyone. He slipped into darkness more often, but usually pulled himself out for a while longer. We always thought he could pull himself out, with our help. It must have taken monumental strength and resolve every time to do it, and I think it just wore him down.

I feel so sorry for the young children and victims of the Sandy Hook tragedy. I wish the killer had been stopped, helped, put away from society before people were harmed. Its just so extremely hard to know when that point actually arrives, especially with an ongoing illness such as mental disability. What Andrew did was an extreme act of kindness to his family and everyone who loved him. An Act of Kindness. Pass it on.

Blue Christmas

I've talked about this before, but Christmas 2008 was the last time I saw Andrew in person. He had been spending most of his time in his bedroom, not coming out and interacting with anyone. He was withdrawing from us all. But he was reading his Bible, so I felt it would be okay.
I took him a bag of groceries items, stuff he could barbecue, etc., but he didn't want it. I left it anyway. I didn't have a clue how to approach him in this kind of mood. In hindsight, I guess we could have had him 5150'd, but the damage might not have been worth it. We were all working hard to build Andrew's trust in us and didn't want to cut that cord.
Anyway, I do get Blue at Christmas time without my wonderful son. I know he is in a better place and is without any more pain. But I still miss him so much. So do my girls, and all of the family.
Merry Christmas in Heaven, Andrew.

The Musician is David Potter, a school mate of mine from Atascadero. He's a professional singer!

Over You

Missing my boy tonight. I know I am not the only one who misses Andrew. My sister shared his senior picture on Facebook this week, commenting that she was really missing him that day, very strongly. It reminded me that I was not the only one who did. 

Lee and I watched The Voice singing competition show tonight with the top ten finalists. The last girl sang "Over You", son written by Blake Shelton and performed by his wife Miranda Lambert, that is about when his older brother died suddenly. This young, aspiring artist, Cassadee, sang it tonight with such emotion...it was very beautiful and it made me cry.

Blake was explaining in an interview I had seen that his brother, who was about 10 years older than he, died in a car accident and Blake started playing his brother's record albums over and over after that. It just connected with me because when Andrew died, he had a lot of stuff...trucks (3 of them), TV, stereo, furniture, clothes, jet skis, tools, etc., that family members all wanted to hang to for some memory of him. I had to kind of step back from it all and I let my daughters decided what to do with his things. But I did hang on to his ipod, which my husband uses in his car every day. Lee swears some days Andrew just takes control of the song choices and sets a mood.

Losing Andrew has been so hard on all of us, but especially for his sisters. He was their hero. "How Dare You?", lyrics in Blake's song, resonate here with them, especially. How dare you go away, Andrew?
Jayne and Becca probably think those words every day. 

"Over You"

Weather man said it’s gonna snow
By now I should be used to the cold
Mid-February shouldn’t be so scary
It was only December
I still remember the presents, the tree, you and me

But you went away
How dare you?
I miss you
They say I’ll be OK
But I’m not going to ever get over you

Living alone here in this place
I think of you, and I’m not afraid
Your favorite records make me feel better
Cause you sing along
With every song
I know you didn’t mean to give them to me

But you went away
How dare you?
I miss you
They say I’ll be OK
But I’m not going to ever get over you

It really sinks in, you know, when I see it in stone

Cause you went away,
How dare you?
I miss you
They say I’ll be OK
But I’m not going to ever get over you