GreenSunflower

Six Years Down

On this day six years ago, I got a call from the person that staved off my suicidality for the 4 years of depression prior to Babe's entry into my life.  It was 6 am.  He woke me up from the east coast and said a plane had flown into the world trade center.  I was too out of it to even comprehend it.  I went back to sleep.  He called again a half an hour later.  A second plane had hit the second building.  He pleaded that I get up and turn on the TV.  I did so. 

It was like watching a movie, it wasn't real, and you were wondering where this was going to take the plot line.  Little did we know, we would be mired in ruining the lives of so many more than the families of the thousands that died that day.  That we would be draining money from our country, preventing social programs for those who need them, and not only that, but using that money to make the lives of millions of Iraqi civilians miserable.

Being that I work in an urban trauma center, I see just how cruel our world is to children.  How underfunded our public health system is.  The kid who had a brain bleed because his parents couldn't afford the right car seat... totally preventable.  Shouldn't there be a system to get free car seats to parents who need them?  I mean the money spent in the PICU by medi-cal was far more than the free car seat and a little education.  But I guess I understand that we need another Humvee to patrol Iraq.

The teenager who had two preemie kids with ENORMOUS lifetime complications, in less than a year, who didn't know depo-provera or the IUD existed?  If say she had a health clinic in her high school... she might have been able to get that.  But health clinics are expensive and we would rather create a war for soldiers to get hurt and need incredible health care.  I definitely think is we are going to send our soldiers out there, we need to provide top notch care, but how about not creating a situation for injuries?

I could go on and on.  I see every single day preventable situations that we just don't have enough money to prevent because we are putting our money in corporate pockets and in a war in Iraq.  What is that saying..."starts a home."  I cant remember the beginning, but I think change should start at home.  We need to get our shit in order first... before we lose the middle class, obliterate property rights for corpro development, and have anymore people without health care. 

Fuck.

Dear Mr. Chambers

Do you remember how we first met?  Do you remember 7th grade geography?  I remember it.  I remember the first day, when I sat behind you.  You in the first row, me in the second.  I remember making a comment intentionally illustrating my, Superior to all, intelligence.  You turned around with that huge magic making smile and tore me to pieces with teasing.  Could you see at that moment.  The first moment we met, the person I was inside.  The girl who was having her first class at a new school, chubby and socially awkward.  Did you see through all that and intentionally try to make me comfortable, or was it just something you did naturally?  Whatever it was, that was the first day I fell into your clutches.  The first day of loving you. 

I don't remember much of that rest of that year, except that you were enamored with my friend J.  She was prettier with bigger boobs, but I was your friend and we both remained steadfast to such a thing. 

8th grade came and we took to kicking (literally) each other's butts as we walked down the hallway.  I loved it.  I love chasing you after you did it, though I could never catch such a brilliant athlete as yourself.  And though we spent hours on the phone talking and many more hours in school being close, I was still awkward and chubby and you were popular and cool.  I think you were ashamed to be my friend, but you still came back for more.  I think you were involved with someone else with big boobs this year.  I still held fast.  I loved you. 

High school wasn't much of a change.  Freshman year was alright.  You started playing sports.  I attended every single at home game and many away games.  I was also score keeper for the girls' basketball team.  The boys' and girls' team often traveled together.  We always sat near each other on the bus.  You were merciless in giving me a bad time and I loved it. 

Sophomore year.  This was your first year of varsity soccer.  I learned this year that I LOVED soccer. It was the sport you were best at and the most fun to watch.  I sat and talked to your mom for hours, while we watched you run up and down that field.  You were sweeper and didn't score goals, but damned if that team wasn't lucky to have you.  Mr. Yo tore your ass up, but it only made you work harder.  I was always so proud of how hard you worked on that field.  I bragged to everyone about it.  In fact by this time people were a little tired of hearing me talk about you.  I think they were onto something.  I think they had figured out I had firming planted the roots of my first love in you.  I also dropped 60lbs this year and came out of my social shell.  It was also the year you gave me a poem thanking me for being your friend.  I still have that poem.  You quoted a Boyz II Men song at the end and I though that was way too cool. 

That summer.  We grew close. This is the summer Brew claims I stole you from him.  I think we officially started dating this summer.  We spent hours together.  Do you remember our first trip to the city.  Do you remember eating at Pasta Pomodoro and thinking we had found the coolest restaurant in the world?  Remember walking around North Beach, figuring out MUNI, holding hands and bodies, and never wanting to go home... ever.  It just felt so good to be near each other.  Like we were risking something but fulfilling something greater at the same time.  I saw you every single day that summer.  You came to my house, I went to yours.  We spent every spare moment we could find cuddling.  Holding each other, feeling so grown up.  I think by this time you were in love with me too. 

I had become close with your family, mine had adopted you.  I knew all your inner most hurts, wants, and thoughts and you knew mine.  I felt like I could never love another, nor could I love as strong again.  I did go on to love more, but never like this summer.  I don't think I will ever love someone with as much adoration and intensity as I loved you the summer I turned 16.

We started talking about sex.  Amazingly we had never explored more than cuddles and kisses up until this point.  That was enough for so long.  But I was turning 16 and you were already there.  There was something magic about 16 for me.  That was the age at which I could have sex and not feel badly about it.  I don't really remember how we came to decide after 16 would be it, but somehow we communicated that.  On August 4th, 1996, I asked you if you wanted to go out and have "ice cream" with me, in front of my parents.  I had just gotten my driver's license and had so much freedom offered to me.  You didn't get it, but at my persistence you started to put it all together.  My mom and Big J. were out of town and my dad didn't care if we got  ice cream, so we left my dad's and headed to my mom's. 

I don't think we talked on the way over there, all ten minutes.  We got there, into the door, into my bedroom and you were scared.  I still smile when I think the apprehension in your face.  I had never seen it before and there it was before me.  I knew this, what we were about to do, mattered.  It mattered to me too, but I was a little more aggressive. 

Do you remember how disappointing it was?  I felt so badly for that. I don't think we ever had good sex.  At least what I would call good at this point in my life.  But it all felt good then.  It was so new.  Every single touch and sensation a treasure.  We did that dance as many times as possible that summer and into the school year.  We learned so much.

Junior year was off to a good start, until you decided to be emotionally unfaithful.  This of course was brought to my attention, by the guy seeking my affection.  I could not see through his ruse and broke it off with you.  I don't think a harder break up existed than that one.  I don't think I hurt more.  Because the first hurt.  The one where you don't know if it will ever go away.  That hurt is the worst.

We never talked about getting back together.  In my eyes you cheated on me, I was cute and desired, and I didn't have time for you.  It didn't stop me from attending every at home (and some away) sporting event you participated in.  Because really I still loved you.  It didn't matter who I was dating now or how much better the sex was, you were my first and my heart still ached for you.

Senior year came and you weren't too much on my radar.  So much had changed.  I was going to UCSC. I don't think you had plans.  I never even thought about you and going away.  It didn't occur to me.  But it had occurred to you.  Do you remember the last day of high school?  Remember cleaning out our lockers?  Do you remember throwing a fit at something stupid?  Mr. McD was going to send you to the principle's office for one final round.  I talked you down.  Why you listened to me after all that time I will never know.  I just understood.  I understood you were hurting and I still loved you and you listened to me. 

I didn't see you after that day of school for years.  The next time I came into contact with you, you had a baby.  I was so depressed I couldn't see.  You didn't care.  We hung out.  You treated me with love and laughter, as you always had.  I wouldn't see you for two more years.

When I saw you, you had a little one, and one on the way.  The circumstances of these pregnancies were something I judged.  I shouldn't have.  They were huge blessings. 

I never saws you again after that until mid January 2005.  I saw you lying in a casket, dead.  On Jan 12, my sister called me and said she had bad news.  You were playing basketball and fell down dead. At that moment I was thankful you had died playing sports.  I could see no more fitting way for you to go, if you had to go at all.

I went to your family's house.  We shared memories and they asked me to speak your funeral. Did you hear me there?  Did you hear me barely finish my 5 min eulogy.  Did you hear how much I loved you in every single word I spoke.  Did you hear how my whole body missed you, in one huge heartfelt ache? 

I felt so many things.  I still feel so many things.  You were my first love and my best friend and you were gone.  I hadn't seen you in three years and now I would never see you again.  Never, ever. 

I have been thinking about you lately and today I will think about you more.  How does someone die at 25?  Sudden Cardiac Death, that is how.  It just seems so unfair.  One ECG, sometime, somehow and you would still be here.  But alas, thinking in what ifs never got anyone too far.

So today, on the second anniversary of your death, I want to say Mr. Chambers, that I love you.  I will always love you.  I have never and will never feel so intensely for someone as I did for you.  Only a first love can feel that way.  I hope you are at peace and I hope you know that a part of my heart is inhabited by your vivacious person. 

Again, I love you.

Got The Circumstance

now we just need the pomp.  Runtolla, my very favorite intelligent, ever loving, not to mention beautiful sister is graduating from nursing school.  By January she will be a licensed RN practicing in a trauma center ER.  Go Runt, its your birthday graduation day.

She is so excited that (wait I have to use my fingers) 9 people are coming into town to see her walk that stage and get her pin.  I mean she is infectious, you cant say no to coming and seeing her graduate.  I mean if you were her friend, but as her only sister, sibling, and fellow blood nursing student, if I didn't go, it would be disownment time.

When Runt started nursing school, I was beyond jealous and really I don't do jealous, so this was bad.  I was still doing ECT and there was very little light at the end of the tunnel.  Then I started nursing school and our programs were structured differently, such that she started clinicals immediately and I didn't start mine until one year in.  And you do not feel like a real nursing student until you start clinical.  Then she always seemed to know more than me, because 6 months when you are talking three years is a lot.  I was sure I would be jealous of her being one semester ahead of my for the rest of my life.

But alas, I am not.  Thank high holey heaven.  I graduate in 6 months and our theoretical knowledge is very similar.  So I guess I am over that huge whopping semester that lie in between us for so long.  I am happy for Runt.  Not jealous, because my time is coming, but just damned happy.  She is achieving something she set out for 5 years ago.  And as you nursing students know, not a lot of things are hard like nursing school and have accomplished that makes you want to sing.

Now I just have to worry that I am not going to be dressed nicely enough and that my fat rolls are going to fall out all over the place.  Because damned it is hard to be any kind of overweight in southern California.   

Presenting Mr. and Mrs. Babealicious

Aren't we cute? 

My Loving Friend...

Lost her baby at 15 weeks. She has her D&C tomorrow and is pretty nervous.  I don't think I have personally known anybody who wanted a baby more. They are in good spirits and looking forward to trying again, but she is asking for your prayers.  I don't personally pray but all my good energy is thinking about her right now.  So whether you vibe or pray, send it her way. 

The Funeral

My grandfather’s funeral went as smooth as silk.  Thank god, because there were some people who were going to break down, even more, if it didn’t.   Like my Mom.

The service was at a Baptist church, only because it was cheaper.  My grandfather didn’t seem the religious type to me, but he didn’t really speak of such things.  It was one of these nicer, newer churches, with comfortable seats and great audio-visual equipment. 

The AV stuff came in handy because someone, through my Mom’s organizing, put together a slide show of scanned photos, from the 83 years of his life. It was put to music and quite nice. 

The funeral service was done almost in its entirety by the Pastor, who tried to relay my grandfathers life, through hearing stories all week from his family. It came off OK, but there were things he said that were off.  It was pretty good, for someone who never met my grandfather, I guess. 

After that people shared their stories of my grandfather.  And it came off what a wonderful man he was and how much he loved everyone.  But what I truly realized was, after years of thinking I was my grandfather’s favorite, he made everyone feel that way.  It was just his special way.  He was a really personal guy, who made everyone feel special to him.  My Mom still claims that my sister and I were his favorites, but I am unsure after the funeral.  Does it really matter? No because he made me feel really special every single day I spent with him. 

At the end of the service they did a military ceremony and my grandmother got the folded flag and everything, because my grandfather was a WWII vet.  My grandfather would have loved that salute to him. I don’t think there was anything he was more proud of than his military service. He talked of it constantly and it was so spectacular, you had to wonder if it was made up.  My grandmother, now that he is dead, said every word was true, but spoke quite a different tune, when he was alive. 

We all gathered for a reception afterward, during which I sat by my cousin, who went on and on about how her ex’s girlfriend just got a boob job, on him, while he owes her back support.  Which is fine, I guess, but I haven’t seen this cousin in five years. I would have preferred to be updated on something in her life. 

We took a family photo, took my grandmother home, and went back to the hotel for a short respite, before making our way to dinner, where everybody got plaster on champagne in my grandfather’s honor. 

Today Was The Day...

that my grandfather passed away.  It was peaceful and he looked ready to go. They gave him lots of comfort medication so he did not feel any pain or anxiety.  I would like to write a tribute to my grandfather, but I was too close to him to be able to write coherently now. 

He was an old man and I guess every old man has to die, but I tell you, when they do, it hurts.

The New Puppy

For my Mom and Big J. that is. 

Scrapbooking

I am not crafty.  I do not sit around wondering what kind of work I can make for myself by doing a craft projects. But when I found out that we would be making a scrapbook and foam boards full of pictures for my grandmother's funeral, I thought that was an OK idea.  I have to tell you though, it has been hard work.  Picking the pictures out, cutting boarders around them, and pasting them. 

Then comes the disagreement about what exactly we are going to have at the funeral. My dad wants everything ever associated with my grandmother at the funeral for viewing.  Most of us think you just cant have 83 years of stuff out there.  I understand though, my dad wants his mother to be honored and everyone to see all these great things abut her life.  It just isn't that practical.

Well all of this scrapbooking and discussion went on for ALL DAY and by the end of the day, I was tired as hell.  I actually slept well last night.

Today is the actual funeral and we have more scrapbooking to get done.  I know I will cry at the funeral, but it will be OK.  My grandmother is going to be honored.

Rest In Peace

Mary was born in a small agricultural community in Washington, she was an only child and grew up honing her practical and intellectual skills.

She then went to college in Washington where she earned what she called a Bachelors of Laws.  A degree she created because there were none at the University which fit her liking.  She finished and graduated one of only two women in her class during the forties.  She then moved to Portland, OR, to become an assistant to a successful Oregon lawyer.

She later married this Oregon lawyer and they had two boys and a set of twin girls.  All of whom loved her with fervor.  She was the center of their world and the matriarch of there family.

After having the children, she made the important choice to be a stay at home mother and raise her children, but this did not stop her from extensive community involvement.  She was on school boards and assisted city councils to do things like bring parks, farmers' markets, and better infrastructure to the tiny suburb of Portland in which she lived.  After the children were grown, her community involvement continued as she became very involved with the Library in her town.  She was astute as her legal skills paid off well here.  She was never paid for any of this contribution to her community, she did it because of her sense of civic duty.

During her time involved in this small town, she also became a historian of the town, as she was a historian of many things, from the Oregon Trail to Washington, and now Oregon.  She loved history and had many stories impart regarding the past.

While making such a contribution to her community she developed beautiful relationships with many, who will remember her for all time.

As her children grew, her youngest son had two children.  She loved these grandchildren greatly and blessed them with much teaching about investment in all things, whether monetary, educational, familial, or social.  She also instilled in them a sense of independence, something she tried to give all those around her.

With her family by her side, Mary died yesterday around 6pm.  She will be missed by her entire family, as she was the central link for everyone.  Her pain is now ended and she will be blessed in the afterlife. 

Rest in peace, Grandma, I love you.