Out With The Old (2014) : In WIth The New (2015)

In Feb of 2011 I started this blog spot.  I started it as a college project that was a requirement to complete a course.  The criteria called for me to develop and improve a blog site and enhance it as the course advanced.  I was to reach out and grow its following as I wrote and published blogs.  I will admit that when I first started the assignment I was not real motivated to do anything more then meet the requirements to pass with a solid A.   While my passion is to write I was satisfied with hand writing in my journals that now number in the triple digits.  I still do the majority of my writing by hand writing in those journals, documenting the moments of my life in assigned journals to the people in my life. 

My hand written journals are precious to me and I rarely end a day that I am not handwriting in one or more of them, keeping them updated with the memories I cherish.  My thoughts, my feelings, my fears, my happiness.  I have designated journals to each person in my life that has impacted it in one way or another.  Family and friends, those that have died and those that are still living.  I have journals that lay out travel agenda's, where I went and what I accomplished as I traveled the states.   Handwriting these days is a lost art to most of the world, but not to me.  The times I sit to write in my journals is therapeutic and allows me to relax in a state of mind free of social media, electronic devices and the crazy business of the world today.

In early Feb of 2012 I met a little girl, Grace, that had terminal cancer and was near the end of her fight.  I would walk her journey to Eternity with her until late May of 2012 when she took her last breath of life.  I spent four months working with Gracie on her story, on her terms.  She would dictate the story of her life to me and once she left us I would write the story of her death.  There were 40 blogs that were dedicated to my little Amazing Gracie that touches on our time together in the final months of her young life.  Those 40 blogs would reach over 29 countries and be read by over 22,000 people.  It was enough to blow my blog assignment out of the water. 

This was no longer an assignment to me, it was not even a hobby.  It has become my mission to share my own journey in life as I followed the lives of the people I love along on their journey's and shared it with anyone who wanted to walk that journey with us.  The number of people my blogs have reached is simply outstanding.  What started as a college assignment has become therapeutic and important to me.  I continue to blog about various things going on in my life, in my mind, and in my heart.  While not all my blogs are well read most of them have reached unexpected reads from an enormous amount of individuals around the world. 

In 2013 I published over 70 blogs on this BlogSpot I call Beyond A Breath Of Life.  In 2014 I published almost 35 blogs mainly due to creating another BlogSpot that has a darker edge to it that I have not yet made public.  I have high school students that intern to help me with this blog site, sifting through comments and emails regarding the list of blogs.  I personally try to answer as many questions as I can from my blog followers but it has become impossible to keep up with that on my own. 

As 2014 ends I can close out this years blog statistics very strong and very much satisfied with how well received my entries have been.  As 2015 approaches I am prepared for the long year ahead of blogging more spiritual, heart warming journey's of the people in my life.  I am committed to this blog site and the followers for as long as they are interested in following me in my journey here on earth.  In 2015 I will share more of my personal journey as well.  Where I came from, where I am today and where I hope to be in the future.  How I got to where I am, physically and mentally and spiritually. 

My followers have made me passionate about my blogs and they are becoming just as important to me as my hand written journals.  I appreciate all the feedback you give me and I cannot thank you enough for sharing my blogs with your family and your friends.  Thank you for the past three years and I look forward to sharing so many more years with all of you.  You inspire me and I truly enjoy conversing with those of you that reach out to me.

I hope your 2014 was everything you hoped it would be and I wish you all a great 2015.  I invite you to join me on social media if you would like to, where I also publish my blogs.  It is my hope that in the future some of you will want to be a third party guest on my BlogSpot and publish some of your own blogs to share with my followers.  If you would like to follow me on a few of my other social media accounts please request my friendship.  Again, thank you for being apart of a wonderful 2014.

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JettPauling@yahoo.com

A New Year, A New Outlook

Although I've never faced death personally I have witness death from many different angles in those that were close to me as they took their last breath of life.  I've lost two siblings in vehicle related deaths, a brother to cancer, a mother to a stroke and a dad, well, I'm not really sure how he died, but he also is gone.  I have lost friends to cancer, natural causes, old age, broken hearts, suicide.  I have witnessed friends lose a child at the age of eight and friends who lost a child before he was even born. 

On this blog site I write about the deaths I have witnessed.  How I felt, how I imagine those that lost their loved ones felt.  It is how I deal with the pain of losing people in my life that I love.  Sharing those moments of my life with others is a comfort to me as I imagine my blog followers relating to my pain as I relate to theirs.  I write in hopes of helping others in their times of grief, or maybe help them understand what they one day will feel as they lose a loved one.

While one truly will never fully understand the pain someone else suffers from losing someone close to them, I think we can all agree that it is painful and that we all grieve the same even though we grieve differently.  I wouldn't even say there are different levels of grief because no matter how you are grieving the pain is still there.  That unimaginable pain that we never knew existed until we experienced it.  Yes, it hurts. It hurts bad and it hurts forever.  The grieving process of losing and missing a loved one never leaves.

As blog followers you have read about the many journey's of people in my life that ended here on earth.  I have shared some spiritual blogs and I have mixed in a few random acts of kindness blogs along the way as well.  However the majority of the blogs on this site were about death, dying, losing battles and struggles of everyday life.  I also have a blog site that contains some very dark content that I have yet to share in the manner in which I share this blog site.  The things I consider worse than death.

I guess what I am trying to relay to you through this blog is that my life is not just about death. Sure I have struggled greatly in that area and I have seen my share of struggles in my life, but I also have stories about those that survived.  Those that survived an illness, a suicide attempt, a car wreck, an accident at home.  There are many stories of survival I have witnessed.  Those that won their fight and those that are still fighting. 

It's important to me that you know my life is not all about the pain and suffering and deaths that end the struggles of people I have crossed paths with.  My life is also full of joy for those that have won, those that have beat their diseases, beat the odds against the struggles they faced in their paths.  Those that are still on their journey with the strength of a warrior, pushing past everything set before them in life.  Their lives took a turn in a big way but they accepted that challenge, accepted that change and came out stronger and better then you or I could ever have imagined. 

This New Year, 2015, that is approaching in just a few short days will bring a new light to this blog site.  Although I will continue to blog about death and its effect on our hearts and our souls and our minds, I will also blog about the survival of friends and family who fought hard through their struggles in life to continue their journey here on earth.  I hope you will all continue to follow this site this next year and share my blogs with those in your life that you feel may benefit from their contents. 

Thank you for helping me reach so many people in so many countries by supporting my efforts to become a writer, a journalist and following me through my college years.  It's been a great 2014 and I do hope you follow me in 2015 as my life takes even bigger strides in becoming a published writer and journey through the rest of my life with the girl of my dreams.

God Bless and may 2015 be a year full of success and happiness to each and everyone of you.

Your Greatest Fears Are Completely

Dependent On You For Survival

Finding Fortune In My Misfortune

Every once  in a while you make a connection with someone who helps you put into perspective the difference between what you feel is misfortune and what they feel is misfortune.  It goes to show you that it is all in a matter of how you think and how you feel about any given subject.

Some of you may remember the passing of my mother on Nov 22, 2011.  Three years ago this past Saturday is when God took her home.  Although my mom wasn't the picture of health and had suffered a couple minor strokes prior to her death, she was able to do most everything on her own.  The help we were able to give her came in the form of driving her around, helping her clean her house, doing her lawn and shoveling snow.  She was able to get around pretty well on her own and even worked part time cleaning offices in the building my brother Jordy was employed at.  When our mom had a major stroke, she was admitted to the hospital and that is where she died. 

My Sturges friends in Iowa have what I consider a more unfortunate demise with their mom.  Their mom's health has been failing for the last few years.  I call her Grandma Helen and I love the stories I have always heard about "Holy Helen".  It pains me to hear now all that they go through in taking care of their mom.  They are slowing watching their mom's life fade away from them as her health continues to decline.  In talking to Aunt OJ (Julie) who is one of Helen's daughters it has always been one of her sisters goal to never have to put their parents into a nursing home and let others care for either one of them.  Aunt OJ has told me that although her sister initially set that goal, several others of them have come to agree with her.  They take care of their mom as much as they can.

There are seven siblings, four girls and three boys.  I can imagine it takes all of them helping to accomplish such a commitment to their mom.  I admire their dedication to taking care of their parents in their later years.  Their parents are much older then my mom was when she died, by twenty years at least I would guess.  So taking care of them as they age naturally is probably a chore in itself and then to add Helen's failing health on top of that has to be difficult.  I mentioned to Aunt OJ that I say prayers for her parents and siblings daily, that God will ease the pain in Helen's body and keep the rest of them strong as they care for her. 

I made the statement to Aunt OJ, "I am sorry you have to go through this difficult time with your mom, I know it is probably not the way you imagined spending the final years of your mom's life with her."

She hesitated for a moment before she responded, "I am sorry you did not get this kind of time with your mom Jett. As difficult as it can be, I am enjoying spending time with my mom that I otherwise would have taken for granted had she not become ill."

I have been thinking about our conversation a lot since Aunt OJ made that statement to me.  I guess I imaged a lot of sad days in their lives taking care of their mom.  I imaged a lot of pain, frustration, sadness, tears.  Talking with her put a different perspective on their situation for me.  Sure they get tired she said.  Her sister is a teacher and works full time which if you know anything about teaching is more then a 40 hour week.  She has really been the main care giver of her parents for years already and she was the first to commit to seeing that their mom remain in her home, working through her health issues.  Cooking and cleaning and grocery shopping and taking care of her medicine.  Often sleeping on the sofa to make sure Helen's needs were taken care of day in and day out.  The other siblings all playing a role as well, all of them working at least full time jobs, the girls providing relief for their sister so she gets rest and a break from the dedication of her role as care giver.  The boys taking care of the house and the yard so the girls do not have to worry about that as they care for their mother.  One of the sons has even helped with the medicine and the care of making sure Helen is safe when she needs to get up and move about. 

I loved my mom deeply and I always thought if she would have survived her stroke and needed that kind of attention and help I would be happy to do what I could.  I was devastated when my mom died and wished I could have done more.  I now think about the time I spent with her before her major stroke and while I did what I could, I now wish I could have done more.  I never got to see my mom grow old  I never got the stories from her of her youth and her life that I could have had she lived longer then she did.  My brother and I still talk about how hard it would have been to live our lives like we were used to had mom survived her stroke.  How time consuming it would have been to help her with things in life that we could.  Maybe that was our way of relieving some of the guilt of having to decide to keep her on life support or take her off. 

After my recent conversation with Aunt OJ I have to say how much I admire and respect their decision to tough this out with their mom.  To stay by her side day and night, to dedicate all the time they can to making her life better by being able to stay in her home.  I think about how I always felt fortunate that our mom did not have to suffer with health issues even though it meant we no longer have her here.  I think about how I have thought how unfortunate for the Sturges siblings to have to watch their mom suffer so, and dedicate their free time to helping her.

How wrong was I?  Incredibly wrong.  I love their outlook on life as they find themselves feeling fortunate to spend so much time with Helen, hearing stories about her youth.  Discovering new things about their mom that they would otherwise never know had they not decided to keep her in her home.  How wonderful of a job did Mr and Mrs Sturges do in raising their seven children to be so thoughtful and thankful to their parents.  Thankful enough to want to never let go, to want to be with them until they take their last breath, in the home where they were raised.  The memories they will have to share long after their parents are gone.  How fortunate they are to have this special time together.  How unfortunate for me to not have that same opportunity with my own mother. 

Lessons in life come from so many different sources in our lives.  Capture ever minute of the breathes your loved ones take.  Don't assume fortune and misfortune is what you are facing in the difficult times.  Embrace the moments before you, good and bad, and find the things you can walk away with and revisit when your loved ones leave you. 

The very last memory I have of my mom before she had her stroke was taking her out to eat.  I was frustrated with her never being able to decide what she wanted to eat and wanting me to make the decision for her.  The very last memory I have of my mom before she took her final breath was thinking about wishing we were going out to eat and me getting to, not having to, decide what my mother might like for her meal.

I felt it was my misfortune to have to make those simple decisions for my mom when I should have felt fortunate that I got to spend time with her, anyway I could.  My conversation with Aunt OJ has enlightened me in making sure I find the fortune in the misfortune in my life.

Happiness In The Pursuit

 

I think about all of the time I have spent not feeling as if happiness would ever come my way.  All the times I spent feeling as if I did not deserve happiness, but never really figuring out why I felt that way.  I remember at a very early age in life I thought happiness always meant something bad was about to happen.  It was as if something bad was the punishment for enjoying anything good.  When I say at a young age I am talking about the single digit age numbers.  I may not have been able to pinpoint the feeling at that age but I remember knowing the difference between happy and sad and feeling happy at things in life then waiting for something sad to follow. 

I've not ever shielded my blog following friends from the abuse that was inflicted upon me by my birth dad in the form of mental, physical and sexual abuse that started around the age of seven.  At that age you accept it for what it is in your life because you really do not know it is wrong, especially when it is hidden deep in the walls of the house you live in.  Years later I realized it was around the time of my little sisters death that we no longer went to family gatherings, we no longer had visitors at our house and we no longer enjoyed the freedom of the outdoors when our birth dad was around.  It was around this time that the abuse started for me, even though years later I would find out it had been going on for years for my older brothers. 

I remember all the happy times I had with my mom during the day hours while my birth dad was at work.  When it was close to the time he would come home from work the happy times would be tucked away for another day and the evenings brought on the abuse.  I never realized the abuse my mom also suffered at the hands of her husband, at least not until I hit my early double digit numbers in age.  I knew it was getting worse for me, but I never thought about what my mom was going through.  Homeschool teacher by day, slave wife by  night.  That is what I would describe her life as back then, knowing now what I did not know then.

So the fun I had during the day, the learning, the reading, the crafts, the walks up town to the library, would always be followed by the yelling, the beatings, the sexual abuse at night.  Happiness followed by sorrow, it was the way life worked right?  Enjoy a bit of fun, pay for it later.  Find happiness in your day and expect to be punished for it by night.  So many people wonder why women, or children for that matter, stay in the home where the abuse is occurring.  If you have never been the victim or an abuser you may find it hard to understand that you do not think about it being a choice.  You think of it as being routine, the way it is for everyone, you know no different because you have come to accept the punishment of sadness for the reward of happiness.

And then you grow older, not really wiser yet, but your thinking changes and start to wonder where the happiness without the punishment comes from.  For me I decided to reach out to my older brother Joey.  If you are a blog following friend of mine you remember Joey is my brother who died at the age of 24 from complications of Stage 4 lung cancer.  The year before he was diagnosed I was thirteen and I reached out to Joey for help, telling him of the abuse I was suffering from our birth dad.  He promised to help me, to make things better for me and I was so happy that Joey loved me enough to come around home more often then he had ever done since he moved out.  It didn't stop the abuse but on the nights Joey stayed and never left my side our birth dad stayed out of my room.  It made me happy, I felt Joey was going to be able to protect me from all the abuse in a short manner of time.  Then he got sick and he only grew weaker.   My happiness was being punished.  I was so happy Joey was there for me and my punishment was him becoming terminally ill.  I accepted this, once again, feeling that I brought on the bad by enjoying the good.  When would I learn? 

There would be no happiness for me without sadness.  It was as common as slapping jelly on a peanut butter sandwich, it's just the way it was.  Happiness and sadness were meant to be together, like rain falling from a dark cloud, it just is.  I can think clear back to when I was six and Jocelyn was four and we were happy to be riding our bikes out in the sunshine at a family gathering, laughing and enjoying our day.  Then she darted across a driveway sidewalk where she was backed over by car and killed, proving from the single digit of age six that if you want to be happy, you have to be sad.  Would it not just be easier to not enjoy any good feelings and go with the bad ones if the end result was going to be the same?  Why not seek out the bad and just let it flow if that was going to be the outcome anyway.

At the age of fourteen I would enjoy a bit of sadness with a gob of happiness when my next oldest brother helped me flee our Bushnell home in Sioux City IA and take me to Boston MA where I would continue to be punished for being happy.  Happy to leave the abuse, sad I had to leave my mom to do so, that made me sad.  This was the point in my life where I realized I should be on a pursuit of happiness.  Go out in this world a boy full of doubt and find the happiness I felt I earned.  I would spend the next eight years in the pursuit of happiness before I discovered all I really needed was to enjoy the happiness in my pursuit. 

I know now that in my journey towards eternal life there will be many sad times.  I will lose family, friends, and even friends families to death.  I will experience failures that will eventually make me a better me.  I will make mistakes that will make me feel as if I was enjoying to much happiness along my journey's way.  Because that is just life, and without the sad times I would not appreciate the happiness I stumble upon.  I know now that it is OK to be happy, to expect happiness, to accept happiness, to live for happiness.  I also have come to realize that there is no journey in the Pursuit Of Happiness, but there is Happiness In The Pursuit of everlasting life.  That I should enjoy every moment of happiness I come across in my journey on earth.  That its not about deserving happiness in your life, its about enjoying that happiness.  It took me a little over 22 years of life to realize I am allowed to be happy with some sad moments and I shouldn't wait around for the bad times to follow the good fortunes.

The Pursuit of Happiness does not exist in our journey on earth no matter what we feel we are on a journey of.  The Happiness of the Pursuit is alive and real and we should embrace every moment of happiness that comes our way.  Accept the challenges of the sad moments and use them to measure the amount of happiness we actually do have in our lives.  Since I have discovered the concept of deserving happiness and I have stopped waiting for tragedy to strike me down for enjoying it, I am the happiest I have ever been.  I would like you to be the happiest you can be as well.  Start today, count your blessings and as you do, know that you deserve them as well as any happiness that may come your way.

I make the choices in my life and only I can enjoy those with all my heart.  The changes I have made in my life this past six months have been tough.  The paths I have chosen to follow have not all been smooth.  There have been a lot of hesitant feelings where at times I wondered did I make the right choice.  I breath and I tell myself that even a wrong choice is still a direction.  A decision to learn from, a decision to grow with, something that will confirm not only my faith in God but my faith in myself.  Leaping forward with happiness has been a lot more productive than leaping forward with fear.  I no know longer regret the chances I have taken even if the outcome was not what I desired it to be.

 

Leaving Pieces Of Me Behind

 

 

 

"How would your life be different if…

You stopped making negative judgmental assumptions about people you encounter?

Let today be the day…

You look for the good in everyone you meet and respect their journey.”  

Every time I have lost a loved one to a breath beyond a breath of life I always think about how a piece of me has gone with them.  I always felt a feeling of a piece of me missing now that I don't have them with me on my walk on earth.  I have a reoccurring dream that I am walking along a long and narrow path and as I walk, with each step I take, a piece of me is left behind.  Literally, a finger, a toe, a hand, an elbow.  As I walk, parts of my body just fall off.  I have never made it to the end of that path but each time in this dream journey I go a little further and lose a little more of this shell I live in.  It is a dark and lonely path, even though it is lined with people on earth who love me. 

I always manage to wake up as I am running out of people on either side of that path.  I look beyond them to empty spaces that no doubt once held more people I love and who love me.  When I wake up from this dream I think about who I no longer see along the path I am walking on.  Who was there the last time I dreamt this, and who is no longer there.  In this dream, or these dreams I never see anyone on the path, never pass anyone, that has already gone before me.  While I am dreaming I look closely at their faces to see if anyone already gone will appear, but so far none have.

It is always one of those dreams where you think maybe if I fall back asleep I will continue where I left off and I can reach the end of that narrow path and figure out what this is all about.  So I try, but if any of you know me even a little bit, you know about my poor sleeping habits where there are nights I don't sleep at all.  It just never happens that I can fall back asleep once I have woken up.  So I just lay there and think about the meaning of this dream, or if there is any meaning to it all.

I had that dream last night.  It seems as soon as I fell asleep I had this dream.  When I woke up from it I had only been asleep for twenty minutes, which is surprising because it always feels like I am on that path, taking that walk, for hours.  I laid there trying to figure out what the pieces falling off of me represent.  That had me thinking about how I (and several others I am sure) say that when we lose someone a piece of us goes with them.  I thought about each death I have experienced when I was old enough to actually repeat that phrase and feel that piece missing.  

Why do I feel as if  'a part of me'  is missing?  I haven't left, I am still here.  It is my loved one that left.  Have they perhaps left  'a part of them'  behind with me?  Yes I concluded, they have left the memories of our time together behind for all of those who loved them to share, keeping a piece of them with us, even though they are gone.  I thought again about 'a part of me' that went with them.  Maybe it has in a way and maybe it is a part of me that I won't miss.  Maybe I let a small piece of me go to be with them on their journey to an eternal life with God. 

I don't have that answer, but I do know this, if a piece of me went with my loved ones each time they died, it wasn't the piece that they loved the most about me.  I still carry those pieces with me.  I share them with new friends and new family members that come along my way.  It would not have been a piece of me I need, I still have some living to do.  I learned from a very smart little eight year old girl that our hearts are HUGE and it will never be filled to its full capacity so we should keep filling it up with all the love we can. (Go ahead, prove her wrong.  I am trying to."  R.I.P.  Amazing Gracie, love you forever.)

I feel we are all made up of pieces of the people in our lives.  Pieces of their hearts, their souls, their minds.  Pieces of their character, pieces of their history.  I'm a firm believer that you are what you eat in life.  If you hang around with great influences, you learn the importance of you yourself being one.  If you hang around with highly spirited individuals, you to become spirited.  If you hang around with positive people, you yourself tend to be a more positive person.  As hard as it is, it is important to not include others in your life that are not happy for who you are and do not allow you to be the best you that you can be.

That is hard in today's world where everyone seems to want to point out the weakness's of others.  Everyone seems to have the desire to in all ways, be better then everyone else.  Some people focus so much on how important they are to the world, they forget that others are also just as important to the world.  There is a big difference between self confidence where you feel great about who you are, and lack of love for yourself where you find fault with everyone and everything to make yourself feel better about who you are. 

Trying to be who you are is difficult enough and when you figure in the way others treat you it becomes impossible.  The easiest way to be confident in who you are, is let others be who they are too.  Don't get so wrapped up in your own happiness that you forget to be happy for others as well.  The only part of us that will leave the earth when we die is our soul.  We might as well leave pieces of ourselves in others so when they bury our bodies, there are pieces of who we were still walking the earth.  I know I strive to leave good memories behind me in my path.  I would like to be remembered in a positive way where others can remember how I touched their lives in positive ways.

I would like to think this reoccurring dream I have is a picture, a road map, of my soul heading towards eternal life.  As it does, pieces of me are being left behind for those in my life, those that have crossed my path.  Memories for them of how well I treated them, how much I loved them.  I don't know what this dreams means, like I said, maybe it means nothing.  I do know that it at least holds value in getting me thinking about my happiness and the happiness of others.  I know how I feel when my feelings get crushed, when my dreams get laughed at, when I get judged for living life for who I am and not who others want me to be.  I hope I never leave anyone feeling hurt and that the times I do I recognize what I have done and I fix it, and learn from it.

“A kind gesture can reach a wound that only compassion can heal.”  

 

 

A Bitter Sweet Day of Life and Death

A funeral this morning, a wedding this evening.  As one family lets go of the soul of a loved one, another family welcomes a new soul into their lives.  A celebration of two lives beginning, a celebration of a life ending. 


The same church today that was booked for the union of marriage on this date several months ago, will host the funeral on this date that was planned two days ago.  Two groups of people who have never met will share the same alter, on the same day as each other, oblivious of the life that ended, or the bliss that is beginning.


Families will gather for two very different types of celebrations of life.  One full of tears of sorrow, the other full of tears of happiness.  One will honor the past days and life of young man whose journey has ended, the other will honor the future days of a young couple whose journey is just beginning. 


An alter full of flowers this morning, representing the love for the life no longer breathing a breath of air. An alter full of flowers this evening, representing the love of two people starting their lives together full of breaths of fresh air.  A music arrangement this morning of songs that pull at your heart strings reminding us that the circle of life ends here for this young man.  A music arrangement this evening of songs that lift the spirits of hearts for the love being shared by two young people. 


A slow walk up the aisle by six pallbearers, followed by the deceased body of the young man here today to be released to the hands of God.  A slow walk up the aisle by five bridesmaids and five groomsman followed by a young bride today to be united in faith to a groom.  Families of the deceased young man sitting in the pews of this church that houses the faith and trust in our Lord to comfort our saddened hearts.  Families of the young couple sitting in the pews of this church that honors our faith in the Lord to a new beginning with our joyous hearts.


A single candle will be lit to represent the eternal life that will carry this young man to his final resting place where he will sit with Jesus and be whole again.  Two candles that will be used to light a single candle to represent the union of two lives where together with Jesus this young couple will complete the final journey in life. 


Mothers sit near the alter, one watches and listens as she is told to let go of her sadness and trust in the Lord, two watch as they see their young daughter and son become one with a joyous heart.  Fathers sit along side the mothers, one strong enough to let go of the son he never imaged losing at such a young age, two witness their children leaping into lives outside their families to form their own.  Siblings sit in pews behind their parents, this morning to weep as they realize their brother will no longer come home at the end of the day, this evening to shed tears of joy and happiness as their sibling counts increased with the welcoming of a new brother or sister. 


A celebration brunch follows this mornings service where family and friends will gather in a somber mood, to share a meal together, a last supper ritual if you will.   A catered dinner will follow this evenings ceremony where family and friends will gather in a cheerful mood, to share a meal, a first supper of sorts, with the new couple. 


A limo ride for this mornings family taken to a cemetery to bury a son.  A limo ride this evening takes a new couple away from their family and friends to begin their life together.  One family is left behind with a struggle to meet the next day with open hearts and renewed faith in their belief that putting their son in God's hands for eternity is accepting God's plan.  One family is left behind and will meet the next day with joyful hearts as they remain faithful that this new young couples life will be a happy journey.


The House of God holds many celebrations in the lives of His believers.  There are wedding vows, baptisms, confirmations, and many more celebrations of life held at the alter, the front door to God's house.  Funerals are a celebration of life as well, life's lived, life's lost.  Beautiful celebrations that shower us with happiness and sorrow.  Beautiful celebrations that reflect God's plan in each and every one of us.  Daily and Weekly mass celebrations we attend to renew our faith, and encourage us to enjoy every moment we experience in the Circle Of Life under God's care.  Celebrations that bring us to our knees, celebrations that shed tears from our souls.  Celebrations of life and celebrations of death.


Today I celebrate the life of a friend through his death.  I am sad for this lost in not only my life but the life of his family and friends as well.  The memories I have made in my short walk of his short life will last through eternity, as will his soul. 


Today I celebrate the union of the lives of friends I have met through another friend.  I am looking forward to celebrating their new bond as husband and wife and watching their love grow as they move forward in their journey together.  The memories we will make in our friendship will also last an eternity. 


A bitter sweet reminder on this day of how precious life is, how short it can be, and how through death, life goes on.  Relish in every moment your loved ones are with you, cherish every celebration of life you encounter.  There will come a day when the celebration of life is the celebration of death.  Take no moments in life for granted, waste no time on anger and hate.  Let others live their lives to the fullest, even when you disagree with their method's of living.  Except nothing less then the things in life that make you happy.  Live with your soul, let your heart lead you to the end.  Never assume tomorrow will come, never regret the day that has past.  Live for today. 


We will all stumble on our path, we will all struggle with our lives.  Accept the challenge before you with an open mind, a warm heart, a fearless soul.  Leap through the loops in life as you journey towards eternity, the forever we all strive to achieve.  Let no moment of happiness slip by, take hold of what is within your reach and someday when your journey lands beyond a breath of life, your loved ones will accept your end and see it as a new beginning.


A bittersweet day full of memories and reminders of a past that has met up with a future.  New beginnings through death, new beginnings through life.  Lives that passed through the same path, one gone, two just beginning.  Two celebrations that produced moments of tears, one of sadness, two of joy.  Two rides to a new beginning, one in a hearse one in a limo.  An end. A beginning. 


A ceremony that requires "til death do us part", a ceremony the says "through death I have found eternal life".  Celebration's of life, eternal by definition. 

Yes, a bittersweet day.  Faith, Hope, and Love

215 Days of Life Before Death

Cancer took a piece of Brandon when he had to have his left leg amputated just below the knee.  It took more than a piece of his body, it also took a piece of his life.  Brandon played football and soccer but could also be seen out on a baseball field and a golf course in the summer months.  A broken leg that was the result of a tackle when he was playing football with his friends lead to the discovery that Brandon had leukemia.  I first met him at the Children's Hospital just days after the diagnosis was presented to him and his parents.  I annoyed him that first day we met and I intended to go back a couple days later and annoy him some more.  CLICK HERE TO READ HOW I MET BRANDON

Brandon's fight against cancer was not any harder, or easier, then anyone else who was fighting this disease.  I did the best I could to stay with him during his treatments and I was with him the day they discussed with him and his parents that they needed to remove his leg, or at least a portion of it.  I watched his fight level go up and down, his attitude about life go up and down, his willingness to fight harder fade.  I visited him often, bringing his homework with me and offering to help him do it so when he was well he did not fall behind in his studies.  When they amputated his leg and sent him home I often joined his family at their dinner table and helped Brandon with his studies before leaving him for the night. 

He struggled with life and it was understandable.  He lost his limb, he lost his ability to play sports with his friends, he was losing his will to live.  I pushed, harder then I thought I could push, to help him see the light at the end of the tunnel.  His parents pushed, they did not cuddle him for a single moment.  His siblings cared for him, helping him meet his every need, letting him know, cancer took a piece of you, but we get to keep the rest.  Brandon was doing so well, back in school and involved how ever he could be supporting his friends in their sports.  He was actually inspiring to those around him.  He was proving himself wrong, he was doing better then he thought he would.  He wanted to live, he was enjoying life. 

My visits to Brandon at his house were scarce these days.  He was a popular busy guy and hard to catch up with.  If I received one return text from him a week I was satisfied.  I was more then pleased with how well Brandon was embracing his life and moving on.   A few minor set backs, but each time he persevered and was right back on track.  I was proud of Brandon.  I admired him.  I loved that he kicked cancer right out of his system and short half a leg, got on with the life he loved before he broke his leg. 

Then at the end of my work day the call came from my dad.  "Brandon's cancer came back buddy.  His dad called me and would like for you to give him a call."  I knew, without being told, I knew.  I felt it, down in my soul, I felt what I was about to hear.  It had been 215 days since little Lars died.  It had been 215 days since someone I was close to had died.  It had been 215 days of my life, void of death.  As I looked at the calendar on my desk, thinking about how just this morning I wrote the number 215 in red, representing the 215 days since I last had to deal with death, I took out a black marker and circled the number.  Tomorrow I would begin my count all over again.  How many days will go by this time before someone else I love dies?

I did not want to dial Brandon's dads number, but I knew I needed to.  Not for even a second did I think I would hear anything but "Brandon is gone."  I was just that sure that the feeling I was feeling was the shadow of death creeping over my life, once again.  A guy could start to take this personal, assume he was just a bad luck charm, a grim reaper.  Sure enough, Brandon's dad briefed me on his loss.  Brandon had been sick for a couple of weeks.  The cold that never went away, never got better.  A trip to the doctor and a few days of testing confirmed what no one wants to hear, 'it's back' they told him and we need to be aggressive and decide what we would like to do. 

He told me that Brandon cried a little, but then he composed himself.  They would go back tomorrow and decide on the details of what was to happen next.  He fought this once and won, he would do it again.  We got home and Brandon just wanted to lay down and rest, he would see us at dinner.  We kept the house quiet so he rested well.  Dinner time came and when his mother went to get him to come eat, she could not wake him up.  He was gone.  He overdosed.  I'm sorry to have to tell you this, he said, you were a good friend, a great motivator to him.

I offered my condolences to his dad.  I asked if I could stop by the house tomorrow to offer them to his wife and Brandon's four siblings, all younger then his 19 years.  "Yes", he said, "the kids would like that, so would we."  I told him if there is anything I can do, please don't hesitate to ask. 

I guess even though I knew he was gone, I was stunned.  I believed it, yet it didn't seem real.  I was shocked, yet I was not surprised.  I remembered back to when Connor died, how I classified his overdose as a suicide, even though I knew he was just a wreckless party boy.  How Cedric shot a bullet right into his heart, ending his life.  I remember how angry I was at both of them for leaving the way they did.  I still get angry with them when I see their families, still very sad and suffering no matter how much they try to move on.  How I have not once ever felt sorry for either one of them because of what they left behind.  The confusion, the pain, the emptiness of the lives of their siblings, their parents, their friends.. 

But I cannot be angry at Brandon.  Watching him battle through almost one and half years of fighting off the cancer and racing back into life, with the constant reminder of what he went through each morning he tied the laces of one tennis shoe, I felt sorry for him.  He just must not of had any fight left in him.  He must of imagined what he would lose to cancer next.  Man, I just really think life should not be a struggle, or a fight.  Why does it have to be so hard?  You just get tired.  It's exhausting to keep fighting to get to stay.  I really feel sorry that Brandon's life had to tragically end because he was tired of the fight.  I hope God accepts him into his Kingdom quickly and Brandon finds his struggles are gone. 

Visiting Brandon's family this morning was tough.  It's like your heart breaking into several pieces each time you hug one of them.  Listening to them as they try to reason with themselves that everything will be ok.  His little brother, barely 10 now, not sure if Brandon will walk through that door again or not.  His sister, 13, with tears pouring out of her eyes, latching onto her daddy as if he will leave her too.  His sister, 17, clutching her dead brothers Red Sox jacket as if the tighter she squeezes it the better the chance of him being in it when she opens her eyes to look.  So much sadness, so many tears.  Will they ever be able to push forward, go on from here. 

I'm really not looking forward to the service's that will lead to the burial of Brando.  I will go, of course, he was a good friend to me, we took each other through a lot in the two years we have known each other.  I dread all the sadness his services will bring.  One more set of parents, burying their child.  As much as it hurts to bury your parents, it has to be extremely difficult to bury your child.  I hope his family and friends remember to celebrate his life as they mourn his death.  Although Brandon was too tired to fight this latest battle, he lived a great life.  He should be proud of his accomplishment, and so should we. 

"Brando my friend, my heart aches for you tonight but it also beats a bit stronger in honor of your life.  May the light of God shine on you during this next leg of your journey.  You are loved and heaven is lucky to have you so soon. RIP."


dec 2, 2012

This Old Soul, This Young Brain

Sometimes I forget I'm really just a kid, or a young man, and not the adult I would like people to think of me being at the age of twenty-two.  I often get told I have an old soul, and to a certain degree I feel that is true.  I often feel as if I might have lived before even though my church would like for me to not believe in that concept.  When my niece Olivia was born, and watching her in the almost four years she has been on earth with us, I tend to believe a little more that old souls exist and what that means to me is that your soul has lived before in the world.  She is very wise beyond her four years of age, and not just in her intellect.  She is so compassionate about other peoples feelings, often offering comfort when she really should have no idea that you are sad, or that something is bothering you. 

I guess I can see that in myself, especially in my written words.  There are time I sit at the keyboard and my fingers begin typing and before I know it I have typed a note, or a blog, or an article that I had no idea existed with-in me.  Some of things I can feel, without ever experiencing it first hand, surprise me.  Some of the things I can see, the pain seeping out of other people's souls, amaze me.  I'm by no means complaining about the thought of an old soul existing inside this young body.  It fits with my passion for embracing other peoples sadness and the need to share it with the rest of the world.  It does not come without a price, but I am learning to deal with that price as I get older.

Sometimes that price consists of forgetting that my brain is not my soul.  That I am in fact just twenty two and I still need to remember to respect others whether I feel I am right in a situation or not.  I also tend to forget that my mouth should not be connected to my brain and that there are times when I should shut my mouth and turn off the part of my brain that lets it spout off.  I try to use the excuse that I'm just stating the truth, often forgetting that sometimes the truth really doesn't matter.  That sometimes what I consider the solid honest truth is just my opinion and other peoples opinion matter too.  I try to justify some of the things I say with the fact that I am just protecting someone I love and if that means hurting someone else well so be it.  For an over 4.0 student through all my schooling, I can sure miss out on the common sense portion of my brain at times.

I get many compliments from people in my life about how nice I am.  Compliments about how well I carry myself in life.  How well I have done for myself.  How successful I am.  How caring and giving I am of myself to others.  My normal answer to them is "thank you, I appreciate your kind words but I am a work of God and I am sure he is not yet finished with me."  I would like to think I was born with all the fine qualities I am gifted with, or that I was raised by parents who instilled the very best in me.  Neither of which is true.  The cold hard truth about it is that I have always wanted my family to be proud of me.  Most all of my family is gone, albeit for one brother, and it is important for me to stay on the best path I can so one day I can hear each of them tell me "I am so proud of you".  It grounds me really that the family members already in Heaven cannot say those words to me face to face.  It keeps me on the straight and narrow, never crossing the line.

The line.  I never cross that line but I sure do walk it like a tight rope.  There is a very special person to me in my life that I teeter with while keeping my toes on the right side of the line.  This individual entered my life when I needed her the most, before I even knew that one day I would need her with me on my journey.  I have never thought about her never being a part of my Misfit family life.  I have never imagined what life without her in it would be like because I have always expected her to stay in it.  That is until recently when I actually crossed the line of respecting her for who she is and accepting her for who she isn't. 

From the very bottom of my very deep heart I wish my old soul would have stepped all over my brain before it leaked a conversation out of my mouth that I will never be able to take back.  I would like to eat my words, which some would say is 'swallowing your pride', to let her know that I was wrong.  As right as I tried to convince you I was, I was not.  I was as wrong as the day gets long and my apology to you is sincere.  It's not an empty apology because my dad told me to 'fix this'.  It's not an apology to ask you to not exit out of my life.  It is an apology that I owe you, not because either one of us was right, or wrong for that matter.  It is an apology because of the lack of respect I displayed to you, not just in our last conversation, but for all the times I failed to realize you would never hurt me.  That you have always been there.  That you have always forgiven me.  That you never found fault with me, never harped on the times I made errors in my judgment.  Your support in my life has never swayed, you have always found ways to help me be better, without hurting me in anyway.

I love you so much for what you have brought not just to my life, but to the lives of those I love, both alive and dead.  I love you for never leaving me, or us.  I love you because you are someone who continues to give second, third and fourth chances.  I love you because you accept who I am and who I would like to be, even though you know I am young and foolish.  I love you.  And when I broke your heart with my cruel words, I broke my heart as well.  Thank you for the times you stood back and let me offer you my opinion, even when I never gave you a chance to give me yours. 

I don't often feel broken when someone who I love is still on earth with me, but the last 24 hours I have realized when I shattered your heart, I shattered mine.  I do not promise you I am done growing, or done making mistakes, but I will promise you this.  From now until forever I will remember that my old soul does not give me the right to criticize who anyone else is.  You are perfect in my eyes and when I teeter on that line, or cross that line, it is not a test of you staying or leaving my life.  It is my issue and I will work on facing that issue so I do not ever put our friendship on this line again.  I don't know if you will forgive me for my behavior.  I would like you to, but I will not ask you to.  I do know that I will have a hard time forgiving myself for approaching you with my brain when all I really needed to do was approach you with my heart.

When I count my blessings in life, you are in them.  You have brought so much to my life, new friends, new family, new joys and hope and faith in all things good.  The times I feel weak, I know you are part of the strength that helps me get back on track. 

God isn't done with me yet, I don't know if He ever will be, but I hope you stick around to see it.

Being Kind, It's Not That Hard

I have blogged a few times about Random Act's Of Kindness, those times when complete strangers do something unexpected all in the name of spreading joy.  I believe in second chances, I believe people can change, I believe in being nice just for the sake of being nice.  I think paying it forward with a random act of kindness is a wonderful experience for both the giver as well as the receiver of the kind act.

Todays world actually makes it hard to pass on the kindness most of us would enjoy giving away.  We really do not trust each other as a human race anymore.  We worry about what others will think, or how they will perceive having something nice done for them.  We have to teach our littles about stranger danger, make them aware that sometimes people are bad and we have to be careful not to become a victim to them. 

Gone are the days where you would see someone walking and offer them a ride.  Now neither one of you want to take the chance in todays world of giving, or accepting, a ride with a stranger.  These days when you offer to help a nice little old lady cross the street you don't know if you will get smacked upside the head with her cane or purse.  Even the simple act of tossing a few coins to the person in front of you at the store because they are short gets you strange looks and a weak thank you.  Yes, todays world makes it hard to show others you are just a nice human.

Should that stop you from being kind? No, it should not. Smiles are still contagious and tears can still be wiped from an eye with a simple gesture to show others you care.  I believe we are still a kinder more gentle race despite the fact that 98% of the news we hear and read is negative.  I believe there are still great people in the world that believe as I do, that as different as we all are, we wish happiness for each other.  Perfect, no, not by far, but I believe the majority of the strangers I meet on any given day continue to spread their kindness where ever they go. 

If that little old grandmother needs a hand across a busy street, I will always ask if I can assist.  When it comes right down to it, I would want someone to step up and help her if she were my grandmother. If my kid were stranded on a highway with his hood up, I would want someone to stop and ask him if they can help him.  If an adult witnessed my kid being bullied by other kids I would want them to step in and take the threat of bullying away from him.  What good is a kind nature if you cannot use it?  How does holding back from being the best you can be to others help anyway, just because todays world makes it hard for us to lend a helping hand?

Being nice, or kind, is not that hard really.  You start by accepting others for who they are.  Respecting their difference, realizing that no two people are the same.  Embrace the things about them that you enjoy or find refreshing.  Welcome the things about them that make them different from you.  Let others be who they are whether you like something about them or not.  Focus on what they bring to your life instead of what you want them to be in your life.  Appreciate what they have to offer and do not fault them for what they don't.  It really is that simple. 

A smile as you pass a stranger.  A nod of the head as you walk by strangers on the sidewalk.  A dollar given to the musician as you pass his bucket.  A kind word spoken to an old homeless man.  An arm lent to a handicap person crossing the street.  Your seat on the bus for the waitress who has been on her feet all day.  Putting your phone on silence when someone is talking to you.  Listening with care as someone tells you about their day.  A hug, a kiss, a handshake.  It cost nothing to be nice.  It is priceless when you show kindness to others. 

Make it a point to challenge yourself for thirty days to be a kinder person to those around you.  Go out of your way to mend a broken friendship.  Take time to visit a lonely person and let them know you care.  Thank the girl behind the counter that waits on that line of people before she got to you.  Give encouragement to someone down in the dumps.  Praise someone that has done the best they can, tried their hardest, even when they did not meet your expectations.  Be kind, be nice, it's a reward you give yourself when you turn someone's bad day into a great one.

 

 

The Pursuit Of Happiness

 

I caught the happiness virus last night
When I was out singing beneath the stars.

It seems that I have been in the pursuit of happiness forever.  I have been waiting, most often impatiently, for the day I would find happiness in my life.  I have enjoyed many happy moments and I can recall numerous memories of some of the happiest times I've experienced. I can also recall a number of memories that would haunt me to this day, and more then likely every day I take a breath of God's earthly air.

My earliest childhood memory that I clearly recall is the trip my family took to Omaha NE during the July 4th weekend in 1998 to visit my birth dad's brother.  I was a little over a month from being six years old.  My little sister Jocelyn was four days away from turning three.  On July 3rd of that year Jocelyn would breathe her last breath of life.  Her life ended tragically when a car backed over her as she rode her bike in my uncles driveway.  She took her first breath beyond a breath of life on a Friday.

One of the happiness moments of my life would also incorporate one of the most tragic.  At the age of six I had no idea that years later I would conclude that I had experienced both happiness and sadness with-in mere seconds of each other.  Going from riding bikes with my sister, my best friend, to watching as they tried to save her little life.  I knew then as sure as I know now that at the time I had very little understanding of what had happened.  I knew that when we drove to Omaha from Sioux City IA that Jocelyn was with us and on the drive back, she was not.  I can remember asking for days afterwards where she was, when would she be home.  As time moved on I never forgot about Jocelyn and I still had all our memories of playing together but I accepted her absence in my life ... and I moved on.

In December of 2000 I was eight years old.  My oldest brother Jayson was 24 and away at college.  He was sixteen when I was born and by the time I was three he went away to college.  I saw very little of him during his four years of college, mostly on the holidays and a little during the summers.  As odd as it may seem, he was a stranger to me although I knew he was my brother.  I remember my mom was excited that he was coming home for the holidays.  I remember how happy me and my brothers were that Christmas was just days away and Jayson would be home with us.  The next thing we knew the phone rang and the Iowa State Patrol was informing my mom that Jayson had been killed in a head on collision when a drunk driver crossed the median into his path.  He took his first breath beyond a breath of life on a Friday.

Again I would experience a happy time of life closely followed by a tragic moment. At the age of eight I understood more about death and learned from the death of my sister that Jayson was not coming home.  Never again would we sit around the house during the holiday with the expectation of him coming home to spend the holiday with us.  Like I said before, Jayson was more of stranger in my life because of our age difference.  I knew he was my brother but it would not take long for me to move on, keeping the memories I had of him but letting go of the role he played in my life.

By the time my brother Joey died, on Feb 7, 2007 I was realizing that happiness was not mine to have.  I started to regret any good thing that came my way, knowing that something tragic would take my happiness away.  I was fourteen when Joey died at the age of 24 from lung cancer.  This death was different because Joey was in my life every single day.  He was there at my darkest hours to make sure I saw the sunshine, that I knew the rain would bring the rainbows.  I watched as the cancer slowly took Joey from us.  I visited him daily the last three months of his life as he laid in bed, dying from his illness.  I was with Joey when he took his last breath of life on earth.  I was the last one to leave the hospital room after he took his first breath beyond a breath of life.  I was fourteen and I knew what his death meant to my happiness.  That first breath of life he took beyond a breath of life was on a Wednesday.

I never accepted Joeys death and to this day I wish him back on earth with me.  My tears of sadness have never gone away.  The pain in my heart has never lessened.  Any happiness I had with him, because of him, for him, is gone.  Even the memories of my times with him cannot take away the feelings of emptiness and sorrow.  What I did accept after he died was that happiness was not going to be mine.  That each time I had faith, and hope, that things would be better, it was not meant to be.  Happiness would not come my way.

Confirmation of a life with happiness always being followed with a tragedy came when my mom died on Nov 22 of 2011.  She suffered a stroke and all said and done she had no fight left with her to come back from it.  I was nineteen when she died.  It was on a Tuesday.  It was my Aunt Mary's birthday.  I remember thinking 'how will I ever be happy on that day again? how will I ever be able to help Aunt Mary celebrate her birthday?'  I also remember being angry that mom died on a special day like that, not to mention two days before Thanksgiving.  Just like Jocelyn died a day before the July 4th holiday and Jayson died ten days before the Christmas holiday.  Joey, seven days before Valentines Day. 

It seemed every day is one more day I wait for tragedy to occur.  I have given up on happiness and the pursuit of it.  I have come to the conclusion that it does not exist for me.  That if the price of happiness is going to come with bad moments in life, I'd rather skip out on happiness.  I took on trying to live in other peoples happiness. Trying to get by on the good in other peoples lives.  I thrived on helping others be successful and seeing the joy in their lives.  From the outside others could see my happiness, but failed to noticed it was just a reflection of their own. Then it became a chore and I was even more unhappy then I was to begin with.  I was sure God's plan in my life did not include for me to find inner peace, to be happy, to live my life out always looking for the worse and never realizing that all this time, happiness was not something you can pursuit, happiness was something you find inside yourself.

This past couple of weeks I have found happiness.  It was in me the entire time I had been pursuing it.  I'm not saying there will not be some tragic moments, or some unhappy times, or times I would hope for a better turnout then the way it had turned out, but I am learning more about happiness then I knew I was capable of ever having.  For instance you do not go on a pursuit of happiness.  You cannot buy happiness.  You cannot depend on others for your happiness.  Happiness comes naturally and if it is not, it is because you are fighting it.  You are so wrapped up in your sad moments of life that you push it away, thinking you are not deserving of happy times when so many sad times have come your way.  You start looking for things that make you happy, if only temporarily. 

I know I have a long way to go in dealing with all the things in my past.  The abuse, the deaths, the tragedies of life.  I also know I have to start realizing that I have to be me. I have to live the life I feel best benefits me.  That as soon as I find happiness and live comfortable with who I have chose to be, I can share that happiness with others in my life.  I am done living the life others feel I should.  I have a great career, I have a great family, great friends.  I have definite goals of publishing my books.  I have a great new apartment. I have a great girlfriend.  I have all the things I worked for, things I wanted in my life.  Now ... I need to enjoy them without the guilt of happiness.  I need to embrace the things that make me happy and realize that my family and friends will support me in my decisions even when they want me to go in a different direction.

Happiness is when what you think,

what you say,

 and what you do are in harmony.

 

The Perfect Fan / I Love You Mom

The Perfect Fan (link)

If I could ask for anything I would ask for one more day.  One more day to spend with my mom before she had a stroke.  I hate that the final days I spent with her was when she was on life support, not really dead, but not really alive.  I got to talk to her all I wanted, but I don't know if she heard what I was talking to her about.  I have no idea if she heard me tell her how much I loved her and how much I wished she would just wake up.  I have no idea if she could feel me hold her hand, kiss her forehead, or touch her cheek.  I have no idea if she could feel me lay my head on her shoulder and whisper to her that I really wasn't ready to let her go.

Not that I would ever really be ready to let her go, or anyone else I loved for that matter.  I just really had so much I wanted to talk to her about.  I wanted to hear her say she was proud of me for what I accomplished in life and how proud of me she was for the goals I had set for myself for a better future.  I wanted her to tell me how happy I have made her to be my mom, how much she enjoyed all the good times we shared.  I wanted to hear it from her, in her own words, in her own voice.

I wonder if she could hear us talking about her, about letting her go.  If she could hear us discuss turning off the machines and leaving it up to her whether she stayed or whether she left.  I want to know if she could hear the pain in our voices, if she saw the pain in our hearts as we talked over the options that would see her live, or see her die.  Does she know we wished she would open her eyes, squeeze our hands, or anything that would give us a sign she could hear us.  Does she know we waited several times, for several minutes, waiting for some movement that would tell us what her wishes were.  Does she know we tried to figure out what she would want?  That we tried to figure out what she would do?

When I sat with her for my 30 minutes before we made the decision to take her off life support did she know that I cried because I was afraid to live the rest of my life without her?  Did she hear me when I sang 'I'm A Little Teapot' to her, hoping she would remember how often we sang that song together after she taught it to me?  Could she see the pain in my eyes, the single tear roll down my face when I stared at her laying there as I wondered if she had any fight left in her to come back to us?  Did she know I was there, by her side, as she breathed her last breath?  Does she know I did not leave her and I didn't want her to leave me?

NEVER QUESTION GOD, NEVER BARTER WITH satan.  I try very hard to not make deals with God or the devil.  When you lose someone from your life before you feel you should have, you feel cheated.  You wonder what you ever did that would possibly make God or the devil want to take away your happiness.  If God loves you, why did he take away a piece of you?  If the devil wants you on his team, why would he allow your happiness to be stolen? 

I don't get to ask for another day, I just have to live with the day I got.  The answer to my questions will never be answered, never be confirmed.  Did we do the right thing? Did we do the wrong thing?  Would she have lived? Would she still have died?  Does she know we stayed with her so she didn't die alone?  Does she know the fear that surrounded her when her heart stopped beating?  Would another day have made a difference?

I love you mom and not a day passes by that I do not miss you.  Not a day goes by that I do not have memories of our years together.  I see mothers with sons everywhere I go and the pain comes back stronger than the day we lost you.  I hear mothers talking about their children and I wonder if you would be that proud of me.  I feel the love between the mothers and their children as they hold hands, hug, sing, and dance.  I am happy for them, but I am sad for me.  I want that. I want that back.  I want you here with me, to help me, to teach me, to show me.  To be proud of me, to brag about me, to tell me everything is going to be alright when I don't want to do it any more.  To hear your voice, your laughter.  To see your smile and the sparkle in your eyes.  I want it back and there are days like today when I don't know how much longer I can wait to see you again.  To be a family again.  To feel the love, see the love, receive the love and give the love that a mother and son should get to share for longer then 18 years. 

If I had one more day I would make sure you knew how much I love you.  If I had one more day I would make sure you knew how honored I am that you are my mom.  If I had one more day I would show you that you can be proud of who I am and what I have accomplished.  If I had one more day I would never let you go.  If I had one more day ...

The Perfect Fan (click this link to hear how much I love my mom)

Suicide vs the Threat of Suicide

I cannot stop thinking about the death of Robin Williams.  It was so shocking to those of us who never knew him outside of his profession as a comedian and actor.  He entertained us, made us laugh, made us cry, stirred up emotions inside of us with the roles he played and the stories he told.  Some of his closest friends were in shock over the death of their friend and then to hear that it was a suicide death set them into an even deeper shock.  How could they not know?

I think back to my friend Cedric who also took his own life.  Cedric, His Final Day's  I have often asked myself that same thing.  "How could I have not know?"   How did I not see past the pain he carried inside of him from the death of his girlfriend, Alana, who was the love of his life?  She also took her own life.  How did he not know she also felt suicide was the only way out?  How did we all miss the signs of despair in the people we loved and knew so well? 

I felt I did everything I possibly could, after Alana's death, to tend to Cedric and the pain in his heart.  I kept in touch with him daily, texts, phone calls, visits, even attended mass with him.  Me and the boys drug him out for boys nights out.  He kept promising he would get back on the ice soon, which was his next greatest love in life behind Alana.  All the signs of Cedric being OK were before me.  Yet I failed my friend.  Everyone tells me that I did everything right, everything I could.  That Cedric led me to believe he was OK, that he was on the road to recovering his loss.  Acknowledging the pain would follow him through life but it was bearable, manageable. 

I look at all the pictures in the media of Robin Williams the man.  I see all the photographs of the characters he portrayed.  I was part of the audience he made laugh, made cry.  I was part of everything he did artistically.  When I view those pictures, when I watch those movies, I noticed the one thing I failed to notice about Cedric.  The eyes.  Robin Williams eyes were always shining, always had a sparkle to them.  He lived to make others laugh.  He developed the art of entertaining others so they could enjoy a bit of pleasure in their lives.  He lived for other peoples happiness, even though he could find none of his own.

When you look beyond the surface of his eyes you can see the sadness.  Every picture is the same.  The deep sadness inside of him can be detected by taking the time to look into them.  Past the gleam, past the joy he got out of other people's happiness, deep deep down in the soul so sad he was certain to run out of strength in dealing with his internal pain.  Hidden from his fans, his friends, even his family.  The one thing Robin Williams did better then entertain the world was hide his sadness.  When life became to painful to live, when that final straw broke the camels back, he took the most painful trip in his life, to end his life. 

Just as Cedric had done.  I cringe when I think of the two brothers he left behind.  I cringe when I call his step-dad and hear the pain in his voice as he reaches for reason to find comfort in the lives left behind.  I cringe when I think about Cedric's mom who herself felt a pain so deep from the loss of her first born son she too decided to take that final painful trip beyond a breath of life.  I still get angry with Cedric for leaving us all behind to deal with the thoughts of how we could have saved him, how we should have known.

Why didn't I see it in his eyes.  Gracie and I spent hours communicating through our eyes, reading each others thoughts of happiness, fear, pain, and all the other emotions we journeyed through together.  Why did I not see it?  Why did I allow him to trick me into believing he was doing OK.  That he was going to be alright?  What could I have done differently? How will I handle the next tragedy in one of my friends or families life so I don't miss any signs?

People will tell the story they want you to believe.  People will lead you to believe that their happiness runs deep.  When they are determined to end their pain by their own hands, they will not ask you for help.  You can reach out to them, help them understand you are their for them.  You can ask all the right questions, do all the right things, look for all the signs you should, but at some point it becomes their decision, their responsibility, for how they deal with the pain so deep the only way out to them is to leave. 

Suicide is not a cry for help.  It is not a selfish act.  It is not meant to cause pain to others.  It is not an act of desperation.  It is the end to an illness that has no end to it while breaths are being taken.  It is the end of despair.  It is an end to a sad soul.  Just because we cannot see the illness, does not mean it is not there.  Depression, while it can be medicated, cannot be cured.  When you feel you have taken every other means to handle your depression, the cure you reach for is death. 

The threat of suicide is a cry for help.  The threat of suicide is when you reach out to be saved.  When you have suicidal thoughts and you fear death and you reach out for help.  The threat of suicide is real and should always be taken as a sign that someone is reaching out.  Looking for help to get out of a place so dark they fear they cannot come out of it alone.  When someone shows signs of the threat of suicide it shows they still believe there is hope.  They still believe the pain will subside, get better, be manageable.  These people want to live, these people are still able to fight through their depression, fight for a better life, a better outcome to what they are feeling inside.

Yes, I believe there is a difference between Suicide and The Threat of Suicide.  Unfortunately Cedric and Robin Williams never showed signs of wanting to be helped.  They never threatened suicide to anyone so we could find a way to help them deal with their pain and depression.  The wanted to leave it all behind, they lost hope for themselves, they had reached the point of pain where they decided their was no turning back.  I don't hate Cedric for leaving, but I do understand the path that takes you to the fork in the road.  I would like to say I always choose the road to the right, but who am I to say it is the right road?  That is a personal choice. There may be a road to your left and a road to your right, but is there really ever a wrong road?  Until you are there, you should not judge.

                                                        American Foundation for Suicide

 

Pains Legacy

 

                                     

Today I had the great opportunity to speak to college students pursing mass media and journalism degrees in their hopes of careers around the mass media fields.  I was honored to be asked and even more honored to know they have been following my blog site for the past year.  Just graduating from college myself a few short months ago I found it refreshing and exciting to share some of those experiences with these students.  Their eagerness to learn more, to reach out for more knowledge and more life experiences, reminded me of how much I will miss not going back to campus this fall.  I so enjoyed my four years of college and found myself envious of the students sitting before me.

When their college professor asked me if I would speak to these students I did not hesitate to accept his invitation.  We were attending the same conference, packed wall to wall with inspiring journalist who are trying to get a jump on their field of interest.  I am trying to get closer to publishing Gracie and my story of her life on earth and the short time she was here.  I was sure when he told me his students have been following my blogs that it was the story of Gracie they wanted to visit with me about.  While we did visit the topic of the Amazing Gracie blogs, it would be one single blog that they would choose to discuss with me.

 Legends Never Die would be the chosen blog.  You can follow that link to refresh your memory of the blog in its entirety but to sum it up for you briefly it is about a friend who lost his best friend in an untimely death and the pain it left in his heart.  It is the fifth most popular and read blog on my BlogSpot with almost 5000 reads.  It is the first non-Gracie blog in number of emails I have received from our blog followers.  It is the most shared blogged I've written and it has been read in 16 different countries, translated in many languages.  I was not surprised that this is the blog that the majority of these students wanted to discuss. 

There were 23 students before me as we started our discussion.  The first question I was asked regarding this blog was "How were you able to capture the pain in such a manner that the reader could not just feel that pain, but put themselves in the position to understand that pain as if it was them who lost their best friend in such a tragic manner". 

My friend Keri in Omaha once said something along the lines "until you have experienced the loss of a loved one, you have no idea how much it hurts".  That is exactly how I answered the question before me.  I carry the pain of loved ones gone with me every day.  It is there when I wake up, it is there when I go to bed.  I have lost many people in my life who meant so much to me.  They all occupied a piece of my heart when they were here and in their passing the memory of them remained inside my heart.  It is a pain that is as unexplainable as why bad things happen to good people.  It puts life in a new perspective for you.  You see the world differently, you function differently, you are never the same as you were before the death you are facing, the loss of a loved one.

It never gets easier, and it never goes away.  The more people you lose to death, the more you accept it, but you do not understand it any better.  You find ways to go on, to convince yourself you are ok, it will be alright.  You justify your loss as someone else's gain.  You buy into the whole reasoning that this is God's plan, that God needs your loved one now.  That they are in a better place and one day we will see them again.  The pain you feel is real.  Like the wind you cannot see it but you can feel it.  When the wind blows to hard you find a way to shield yourself from it, just like when the pain becomes unbearable you find ways to push it deep inside you to avoid it, but it is still there.

Another question that surfaced was regarding my explanation of how when you lower the casket you are planting a seed and that seed is the legend that lives forever.  "Where did you come up with the explanation about planting a seed?"  That was not as easy to explain but I used the death of my brother Joey to explain myself.

My biggest fear of all is that as time moves on the people in my life will forget about my brother Joey's life, before he died.  That he will eventually be forgotten as everyone moves on through their lives.  Not just Jake and Mikey, or my brother Jordy, but everyone who has gotten to know my brother Joey through my blogs.  That his legacy will never continue.  Joey was 24 when he died, he had no children to carry on where he left off.  I fear time will pass and with each year goes by that Joey is no longer with us his life will be forgotten. 

I work hard to see that he is not ever forgotten.   My brother Jordy has two girls, Olivia and Jaci, who were born after Joey died.  They will never know him on earth, even though I believe they will meet him one day in heaven.  I keep Joey's memory alive through them, talking to them about him.  They have pictures of him sitting on their nightstands and pray for him often.  Though he is no longer here, the memory of him is.  So is the pain of losing him.  The same pain that we all will face as our loved ones pass. 

Writing that blog out of respect for my friend Cory and his buddy Davy came very natural to me as I have felt it, seen it, and experienced it.  Until you have experienced that loss, you will never know that pain.  Once you lose someone you love, you will forever live with that pain.

My parting advice to these students pursuing careers in various fields of media was this:  Never try to write beyond what you know.  Never reach for a feeling you have never experienced.  Never assume how much pain someone else has unless you are living with that pain inside of you.  Anyone can write about pain and how it hurts, but only someone who is living with it can write it in such a manner that your readers will feel it as though they are living through it.  Keep it real, write with passion, be true to yourself and honest about your feelings.

I feel blessed for being offered the opportunity to share my thoughts with these students and I am sure as they continue their journey through their college days they will find success.  I hope they have taken away from me as much as I walked away with from the time we spent together.  I thank them for their interest in my blogs and I look forward to reading theirs.