Old Spice and Hope

Hope. Isn't that one of the strongest emotions we have? I know for me it is.  I live on it.  Have for a very long time.  Without it, I have no idea where I would be now.  Face down in a ditch most likely with a bottle of wine in a paper bag. 

Life has a way of trampling you to the point of despair, with absolutely no way to turn or anyone to go to. But with even the smallest amount of hope, you manage to get up and keep trying, or at least try to pretend to.  You can imagine that things will get better, that you could actually wake up in the middle of the night and breath, not panic.  That all your hard work and sacrifices matter.  

My life right now is, for lack of a better phrase, pretty much crashing in from all sides.  Professional, personal, physical, financially, emotional and morally; and all that encompasses.  

Basically, I'm a fucking mess.  

So, where am I going with this pity party montage of what's wrong in my life?  Well, let me tell you.

Something happened to me the other day at the River Park. I was a mess. Rent, bills, the responsibility of others, of me, my leg not responding to my brain; a lovely side affect of shingles. Frustrating as my PT had been going so well. But, I digress.

Having to wait on others decisions to decide if there really is justice, fairness and most of all, a reason to hope.  

Sitting in my car, unable to walk the track to the water I sat there crying. Not the soft, gentle kind of crying. No, this was the ugly kind where you can't catch your breath and you don't think the tears or feeling of despair will ever stop.  The feeling of being so alone you almost can't breath.  If anyone walked by, I only hope they didn't see my absolute breakdown.

I finally stopped crying, calmed down enough to catch my breath and bring my breathing back to normal. My face was a blotchy mess, nose running in such an attractive way were I didn't realize it until I glanced in the rear view mirror.  My face. Wrinkles, tear stained, blotchy and snotty.  Perfect photo shot for a dating app.

I could have cried again, but instead I laughed.

And then, I opened my windows, took in several large breathes of the beautiful day it was, relaxed and just settled down.  

After about five minutes my eyes opened, I sat straight up in the car seat and looked around with almost a panic in my searching.  

No one to be seen, anywhere. 

My car was enveloped with the scent of Old Spice. The original. My husband sprayed that on his body every day. I still have the little bottle he used.  God I love that smell. 

How the hell could this scent be in my car, so strong and powerful?  I can still smell it.  It lasted about ten minutes, during which time I just sat back and took it in.  Cryed softly this time. Not believing this was happening.  Matt was letting me know that I wasn't alone, he was with me even though not in body, but in spirit.

That was the first time anything like that has happened to me.  I felt at peace. 

I visited him that day after I left the park. I sat on the small bench in the memorial garden where my husband, sisters and parents ashes are laid to rest. To many gone to soon.

I thanked Matt for showing me he was there for me and letting me know that I wasn't alone. 

Moving forward is a bit easier for me now. I have a small group of the most amazing friends anyone could hope for. They keep me grounded, listen to me cry, vent, laugh and sometimes go silent.  I love them. 

But it's the early mornings and late nights when the loneliness hits the most  Devastating loneliness. But now I know he's there, always, even thought I can't feel him, touch him, and hear him tell me everything will be ok like he always did.

I don't know what the future holds.  But now I know he's there, by my side and I dont feel so terribly alone. 

And that's enough...

CROSSROADS

It's like when the wind shifts. You're not sure which way to face. Turn one way and the wind blows your hair off your face and away. Turn another way and it blows over your face, swirling around with no direction. 

Thus asking the question; how often in your life have you come to a point where, at that particular place and time, you felt that familiar uneasy tug in your stomach. It doesn't come often, but always showed back up when that was the last thing in your life that you needed. 

What the fuck. Do I go right or do I go left. Do I go the hard way or the easy way? Do I let the wind blow it all away, or just go with it and let the wind take me wherever it goes?

It's so much easier when you're young. Do overs are plentiful. But at my age it's scarey to let the wind take you.  So many things could go wrong.  But oh my God how exhilarating it must be to just let go, not think so god damn hard about every fucking obstacle that could block your  path and just let yourself breath. To stop, for one second and just be free from fear, ridicule and embarrassment; or failure.

I guess we can only hope to find such courage. 

Or is it to late? 

VULNERABLE

Have you ever noticed that when you least expect it, life throws you a curveball that you never saw coming?  Ever!!

In my case, it started with me blushing. Yup, apparently my cheeks still glow pink with me having no control. How does this happen at 69 years old?  Is that even possible?  There should be a statute of limitations on it. 18 and you're done. 

Now I don't know whether to feel young again or just foolish. At my age, a widow and blushing like I was 16 again.  Humiliating.

My saga begins with me walking into the bar, my bar, my safe haven.  Heading to my seat, minding my own business. I find my bar stool, next to Matt's empty seat; our favorite seat at the bar.  Saturday at noon. It was our sweet spot.

Two and a half years later, I still wear my wedding ring, still feel married, still mourning; yet.....something is about to happen that I didnt see coming. Vulnerability.

All seated, chat with my friend who happens to be the bartender, sip my Savouion Blanc; lean back and relax.  I notice a gentleman whom Matt and I had met over the years here. We share our pleasantries, and go back to our solitude and private thoughts.

Hes's with a friend who's on the phone, a bit loud, but really funny; hard to ignore, so I laugh. Thus starting a conversation.

To preface, I have good bar friends here; most knew and loved Matt; it's a nice, eclectic group of  really decent, interesting people. Good bar friends. I feel safe here.

But, I digress.

Fast forward to this stranger; a conversation started about nothing really. Where are you from, yatta yatta yatta. Then he moved his seat closer to mine as he doesn't hear well so we could talk easier, without yelling 

Because I had been so timid for so long in my life it almost felt like I'd nevet get out of that mind set. Stay silent, stay in the back, and keep your head down. No one will notice you. Well, that's not me anymore. I love to talk, to anyone, anywhere, at any time. You meet a lot of very interesting and lovely people when you smile and say hi. It broadens your view and opens up things and thoughts that you may not have had before. 

And, I digress, yet again.

A funny, general conversation continues, a girl from the shore and a guy from the city. Very interesting tete-a-tete. Extremely different ways of looking at things. He mentioned my husband, as he saw my wedding ring, and I stated he had passed away and this had been out spot.  We talked some more, and then he said it.. those words, three little words, words that I have not heard in a very long time; "You're so attractive. 

What the fuck???  For a brief moment, I looked around to see the hidden camera, as if I were on Candid Camera. I was sure Alan Funt was about to come out of the shadows and yell, SMIILE, YOU'RE ON CANDID CAMERA. Who the hell says that, to me? I blushed, stifled a laugh and managed to say, oh no, no.  I then asked him, how much he had to drink today? With a smile, of course.

I've never taken compliments very well, especially now, when I feel like an troglidite.

With that said, we talked for an hour or so, I got anxious, and most likely rambled. Exchanged phone numbers, not sure why other than he asked me for it, and went our way.  

I went home exhausted over nothing more than conversation and a compliment. 

Later that evening he he texted me saying how much he enjoyed my company and asking to take me to dinner one night. Nope, no absolutely not.  Drinks?  OK, I can do that, but not as a date, just conversation. Good lord.

A few weeks later he called one Saturday and we met at my bar for drinks and small talk. To say I was nervous is an understatement. It was ridiculous. Get a grip Nancy, it's drinks, not a hook up. Hmmm do people hook up who are nearing 70? Shit. 

Needless to stay, it didn't go so well, and that's all on me. I was not ready for any of it. Compliments, moving closer, talks of intimacy, possible meeting again, dinner and more. 

In my usual, mature way, I stammered and said no thank you. He then talked of his aunt who lived alone and never dated for 30 years after his uncle died. He couldn't believe how after two and a half years, I wasn't ready.  How could such a beautiful, fun and happy woman like me want to be alone.  How can you explain to someone that I didnt feel alone.  Being alone, not in a relationship, does not equate to loneliness.

I couldn't breath. I just wanted to go home.  We finished our food and drinks, he paid the bill and went to walk me to my car, which I polightly declined.  

I went home and cried

And now I know why I still wear my wedding ring. I'm still married in my heart, still in love with my husband and still so angry he left me.  

Lesson learned, trust your instincts when they scream at you that it isnt time. Not even close. May never be, really.

The funny and unexpected thing that came of this, and at the end of the day, when all is said and done; and coming as a complete shock to me, it really felt nice to be seen as a women again, no matter how old I am. 

Rollercoaster Ride

I absolutely don't know how to process this loss. I am iterally drowning in sadness, anger and, hopelessness.  I'm a strong woman who has been through much, but this has rocked me to my knees.  

I have lost every single person that I would call when feeling desperate or depressed.  Of course I have friends, very important, close friends.  But when is enough enough? My friends, my little inner circle have issues and life changing events that isnt always good.

I want to be there for them. I want to be the friend like they have been for me, for so long.  Yet, every day, after a very long day at work. I go to my bedroom, pour a glass of wine and sit on the side of my bed.  Door open, I'm not secluding, but I'm not functioning. All day at work, I produce, do my job. but not at home. I sit. Promising myself I'll get up and do something. Clean out Matt's drawers, closet.  He isn't fucking coming back.  What the hell am I waiting for?  Does me getting rid of my husband's things mean I didn't or don't care, that I'm moving forward? No, not at all. Just trying to breath again, normally. Just breath.

I have been so angry with Matt for not "showing" himself to me. To let me know know he is ok. I was sure he would. How screwed up is that?  Mad at the dead guy.? But I was. Then, the other morning I woke up at 4:30am to our bedroom  permiated with the smell of Old Spice.  He sprayed that on himself everyday.  The bottle is still on his dresser.  I cant bring myself to move it. Cowboy didn't sense anything as he slept wedged next to me.  But I knew it was Matt.  Letting me know he wasn't mad at me for "killing" him (taking the tube out) and was there for me and letting me know I did the right thing.   

We all go through it, but this ride. This mad Rollercoaster ride with Matt, with all the ups and downs was worth it; I just wasnt ready for the ride to end.  I really miss you Santa !!  And baby, I'm trying.

Dear Matt

Dear Matt,

Hello love. I went to take a shower the other day and realized I had none of my soap left. No big deal, but when you would tell me your worth as a man and husband were nill; it's times like this that remind me what I always told you my dear. 

You ran that house. Small things like always having soap, toilet paper, paper towels, every daily essentials.  They were always just there. I always appreciated it and told you so many times.  Yet you still felt inferior as a man. Nothing could have been further from the truth.

You dusted, moped and tidied up everything.  At Christmas time I would come home and the house would be decorated; so perfectly.

On the days you weren't too tired, dinner would be ready when I got home.

When Brittany would try to mop the floors or vacuum,  you would thank her; but that was your job. 

I hope with all my heart that you realized your worth. I know your family did. 

Matt, you made all the changes in my life after my promotion at work doable.  You were there for me every single day at 5;00 when I would call you after work. You would listen to me cry, vent and be boast about my day. You always listened and were there for me. 

I'm lost without that. Brittany and Shayne get the calls now. Not really fair for them really.  Yet they listen and are patient.  

I'll make it through this a stronger person.  It's going to take time.  Too much time.

Right now, I just don't want to ever get out of bed. 

I love you my dear. I miss you

I'm a Widow

Have you ever been sitting around, minding your own business and a random thought just popped into your head? The other day I was chilling at the inlet, having a cry and it occurred to me; I'm a widow.  I'm a fucking widow.

I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around the "title". Hate it actually.  It kind of solidified that my husband was gone; forever. It's not a long hospital stay, it's permanent. He's not coming back. Ever. 

I knew that, of course, when he died, but that title or badge if you will rocked me to my core. Where do I even go from here? We had plans that incorporated his declining health. We made preparations for that.  But yet, he died.  He left me.

My children are struggling, each in their own way. How can I go to them with my grief when they are struggling on their own?  I can't intude on their process of sorry. I need to be there for them. Not the other way around.

My co-workers are wonderful, but yet again, are going through their own issues.  And have been dealing with me and Matt's health for years.  When is it time to give them a break, a pass from listening to me and my sorrow at the loss of so many in my family? My crying moments at my desk?

My friends are amazing. They are always there for me, always and ways have been.  But they have lives and trials and issues as well.  

I am lost, in limbo. Half of who I have been for over 40 years is now permanently gone. I don't even know who I am anymore.  I was half of a couple. Now, I'm just one. 

My parents are gone, my sisters are gone. My husband and Uncle Bob is gone, my confidant, my co-worker of 35 yeas is gone.  

I am heartbroken that they died, yet the  selfish side of me is angry that they left me. Matt promised me he wouldn't leave.  Yet he did. I am devastated for him, and for me. He had so much more to do, to see, to love.

I have no idea where my path is now. No idea of tomorrow. But I'll navigate it the best I can and accept my limitations and not fight my grief.  There is a process and I will take it where it leads me.  The good the bad and the ugly. 

As long as I get up every day, do my best and realize that I am allowed to grieve in my own way and in my time; however short or long it takes.

I will be there for my family the best I can be. We are and will survive this together; the four of us. Arguments and disagreements aside, we are strong and will unite together in the end. Thats what Matt wanted.

This was a severe gut punch for all of us.  Matt always came back home; until he didn't....

EULOGY FOR MY HUSBAND

First I'd like to thank everyone for coming today to celebrate Matt's life. He was loved and cared for by so many.  I wish that Matt had known his worth long before he did. He was a complicated, complex, man for a very long time.  Family saw it, others didn't,  which is the way it should be i guess. I always knew what kind of man he was, a good, strong , kind man.  I'm sorry it took him so long to see it for himself.  

During those years if the kids had to share something, ask something or admit to something I always got the phone call first.  If they wanted to ask their dad a question, they called me first as well.  What kind of mood is he in, shoukd we ask now or wait? I gave them my best advice and I always  reminded the kids that whatever the question was, that dad was going to say no. Which he always did. Then, more often then not he would stop, think about it and say, sure, yes why not.  

But for all the years he was struggling,  he had moments of pure compassion, kindness and empathy. Which was the real man. Those memories are etched in my mind. I would want to shake him and say" this is who you are, can't you see, not that angry loner. " 

Some of his early moments that stick out for me was when shayne was playing baseball for the school. He was ok but he was convinced if he had this special bat he could do better.  It cost 105.00 and that was a lot then. Well unbenost to me Matt showed up to the next game with that bat for Shayne. The look on both their faces will always be with me. I honestly don't know who was happier. Shayne or Matt. Pure joy of appreciation and acceptance on both of their faces.   

Another was with Brittany. Brittany always loved old cars, specifically Subirbans. And she always wanted to learn how to repair them. So she asked her father to teach her. Absolutely I will help and teach you. He showed her everything he knew. It was such a happy time for him. And for Brittany. On one such occasion working on Brittany's old surban with her, he got the step ladder out, climbed up and proceeded to get into it. I will never the forget the sight of my husband, legs stiking straight out of the motor explaining to Brittany how to do something, so serious.  It was hysterical. His passion was real. They spent many days under the hood of that truck.  He taught her much.  

Anthony. For dad, watching you play soccer was a highlight of his weekends.  He was so proud of you and how determined and serious you took it. And then watching you with your BMX bike.  Pride swelled from him watching you.  But one of the proudest dad was of you when you were young was when a picture of you surfaced from your 8th grade trip.you were the only student in the picture with their hand over your heart during either the flag raising or national anthem. That one made him tear up. At some point in your lives you three have all frustrated, angered, and delighted him.. 

Brittany. When you ran your own company and how you raised Madison. Shayne, Anthony when you both jointled the Marines. He loved you all so much. 

Now, I don't think anyone doesn't know this but when Matt married me I had two small children. Shayne and Brittany. He didn't just marry me, he married all three if us.  It wasn't always easy but the love was there, always. After we had Anthony, never, ever did he not see all three of his children as the same, his. 

It wasnt easy for Matt to articulate his feelings though. But one time Matt and I went to dinner at a local bar that was changing ownership. We were sitting with the outgoing owners, and every time they were bought a drink, so were Matt and I. Matt was drinking martinis. Then to the Moby Dick for more. We got driven home, I wentto the house to get the kids to help me get their dad in the  and in bed. All he kept saying in that drunk, emotional voice. Was. "I LOVE YOU GIYS. IM SORRY I DONT SAY IT ENOUGH" It was so sweet and so funny at the same time.  

And then, as Matt started to age I could see the anger and self doubt start to strip away.  It was a slow process but one day Matt called me at work, crying. He said, Nancy the kids are calling me now and not you.  It was a profound moment for him.  From there it was all up hill. Matt's coat of protecting armor melted and the true man came out. 

He was an amazing father, husband, poppop and friend. He smiled and laughed openly, a lot for the first time in a long time. 

Then came the grandchildren. To say he he adored them would be an inderstatement. 

Madison, our oldest grandchild has been nothing but an absolute joy. We got to watch her grow up as Brittany worked nights.  When Matt used to be grumpy, a lot and Madison wanted to talk to him, she would get a red and white peppermint candy, go into the bedroom where Matt was watching TV and offer him a grumpy pill. It always made him smile. She held his heart and could always turn his mood. Years later as Matts health failed and he could no longer work, he was home more often. I'll never forget getting a call from him asking me, guess who I had lunch with today?  He sounded so excited. He said Madison and I went to Ikko. He sounded like a young boy on Christmas morning . He couldnt believe that she wanted to go with him, just him. It became a thing for them. He loved those moments.  Your work ethic,  which your mama taught you, your dedication to your school work. You push yourself so hard in everything you do and he was so proud of you for it. Your loyalty as a friend amazed him. Poppop adored you Madison. I hope you know that. He lit up when ever you were together.  

And then came Olivia, Mia and Brantley.  The little ones as pop called them. 

Some of dad's favorite memories were Olivia Christmas tree shopping with us and then lunch.  Cooking with us on holidays in her apron and chefs hat. 

Mia and her amazing hugs. Staring endlessly with popop at his fish tank. When shown the sonogram of her brother Brandly she wanted to know where the blood and bones were.  Daddy couldn't get over that. 

And then came Brantley Matthew.  My gosh, when Brantley was born dad was convinced he didn't like him.  He couldn't have been more wrong.  The child adored his poppop. I showed up at the door before Matt did as Matt was walking slower then and Brantley ran by me, where's poppop?? Shayne was laughing but mortified. SAY HI TO NANA..  When pop was around I was invisible.  And that was fine.

AND then there was Myrtle Beach. It was our safe place. Quiet, calm with just the pool, ocean and balcony.and Lulus. Our friends Ruth and John and Toni and Dan would join us. We had such good times there.  It was our happy place. When Matt started to deteriorate this year, he made me promise to continue to go the Second week in Sept. I promised.  I don't think I'm going to be able to keep that promise though.  

He loved his friends, his neice, nephews, and his many coworkers.  

At the end I know my children and I made the right decision. Matt and I had spoken often about it last year. He just was so tired. But the selfish part knows he will never hold my hand again. Never kiss my head after a long day at work and tell me that I'll be fine. That I've got it. Fall evenings sitting in the open garage with a cigar waiting for me to come home. The Broadway at noon Sundays chatting with Linda and Sue. Half Moon sharing stories with Carolyn.  We had a good life together with all its ups and downs.  

God speed  my dear. You are walking tall and without pain now.  I love you.

Due Process

I had to write this blog. As a woman, a victim of sexual, verbal and physical abuse, I felt I had no choice.  I am embarrassed of where women, not all, but many, have gone to with their self-righteous feminism. I am sure I will get a lot of backlash from this one.  So be it. This is my story and my opinions; nothing more.

I guess I need to preface this blog. Let you know a bit about who I am, and how I have evolved to this point in my life.

I grew up in a a small seashore town to parents who were Democrats. I followed their lead. Later in life my parents switched parties and became Republicans. I stayed put. Voted for Bill Clinton twice. It was during his second term I realized that the party I had embraced, had changed, at least in my eyes.  I could not relate to the Democrats need to control all under them. I couldn't understand their need to "protect" all people of color, women, etc. The perception I got was one of elite authority and  control. Stay down so I say what you get and what you need because I don't believe you can decide for yourself; all the while chanting equality.  Maybe I was the one that changed. So I started to read, listen and watch all I could about all the parties.

I came out of my research a strong Republican. Now that doesn't mean I agree with all the party stands for or all candidates.  Can you ever agree on every issue or candidate; I doubt it. But I did and still do believe people who are told continually that they are victims, will eventually believe it even if it isn't true.

I found/find it obscene when a black conservative spoke out, they were labeled an Uncle Tom. How dare someone of color have a mind of their own, thoughts or ideas  that didn't lean left. Am I the only one who finds that arrogantly controlling? For the party of inclusion and tolerance to hate anyone who doesn't follow their step?

For these reasons and so many more I chose to leave the left.

With that said I feel the need to address the confirmation hearings of Judge Kavanaugh, women's marches of today, among a few other things. I was disgusted.  The hearing was a farce. Kamala Harris and Corey Booker auditioning, and embarrassingly so, for the 2020 nomination.

I was very glad to see Republicans finally getting a spine and fighting back. It's about damn time.

And then we have Senator Feinstein. Withholding a letter for months (because the writer wanted to remain anonymous) and then leaking it. Someone leaked it, she had it. My thoughts.

Now the guts of my gripe on the whole thing.

Since when should someone be believed, or disbelieved for that matter, based solely on their sex, race, gender or anything else?  Since when does the chant "WE BELIEVE SURVIVORS" take the place of due process, of another's rights to defend themselves?

You want to be equal, then don't make up the rules as you go.

It is demeaning and insulting to assume that all women tell the truth and all men lie; and visa versa.

What do I know about anything?  At 17 I was raped by my boyfriend.  Not just forced, raped.  This boyfriend of mine also verbally and physically abused me, which I allowed. Damn near cracked my skull once. And the man that saved me from him, my first husband, evolved into a physical and verbal abuser as well.  You know, guns to your head, lit matches thrown on you. Furniture hurled at you in anger.  Oh, and I'll throw in how he brought a stripper home and slept with her in our living room while I stayed quietly in the bedroom too afraid to say anything.

I know abuse and fear and humiliation all too well.  Doesn't say much for my choices or self esteem back then, but that's another blog entirely.  I know what it is to be a victim of a vicious assault.  I am not just writing this out of my ass because I'm a Republican.

Justice Kavanaugh.

This is a man who revers the Constitution and his position; not as a law maker but one who reads and understands the Constitution of the United States.  He doesn't try to make policy for one side or the other; he is for the people. His record shows that.  This man had been vetted six times by the FBI.  Nothing, ever came out of this indecent.  So, when a woman claims that something happened 35 years ago, that's it. End of discussion.  She doesn't remember much, but she knows it was him.  Her four witnesses say not so, (one of them her friend) but yet again; a woman said it happened so she must be believed.

And then you have Alyssa Milano sitting behind Judge Kavanaugh with a sign that said something like I Believe Survivors, no on Kavanaugh.  What the hell does that even mean?  Her hair up and her glasses on, she looked like a prop.  No evidence, just someone with a vagina. That's all you need now.  What does it say about our mentality when we believe someone based on their genitalia?  Again, as a woman, I'm beyond embarrassed and insulted at how "progressive" women see the world.

I don't know if something happened to Ms. Ford. If it did I am profoundly sorry. But, you cant accuse someone of something with absolutely no proof and call anyone that questions you a woman hater and much worse.

You say we are equal but you can't be questioned about an accusation, lest being called a beast with no compassion, no soul; a women hater??  You say the white men on the court are not protecting you? But then you say I am woman hear me roar.  You can't have it every which way.  Did her lawyers ever tell her the senate committee would have flown to her in confidence??

She was so used by the left it was disgusting. Talk about no compassion.

I am at a loss to understand how anyone can say all women must be believed.

Let's talk about women's marches. You have Ashley Judd screaming about how angry she is and thinks about blowing up the White House. Wearing pink pussy hats.  Nice way to make a point.

I, myself, am not defined by my genitals.

I guess my point is that, in my opinion, women are doing themselves a disservice by claiming to be a force to be reckoned with, yet in the same breath say we must always be believed at any cost.

It is not a message that I want for my daughter, granddaughter, or grandson for that matter.

What does it say to decent men that if you are accused of a crime against a woman, any woman, you are presumed guilty and have no voice, at all.  You have a penis which makes you bad.

We are so much more than our sex, gender or color; or political affiliation for that matter. Human beings, nothing more, nothing less.  All to be held accountable for our actions regardless of sex. And to the elitist snobs of Hollywood. When you come out from behind your gated lives, then we can talk about an open boarder. 

So much more to say. But not today..

People make it so much harder than it has to be by acting so entitled.  Exhausting...

Suan

To say that I am heartbroken doesn't touch how I am feeling.  I knew it would be different from when we lost our parents.  The sadness, the loss; but I could never have imagined how different this is.

My grief for Susan's passing has so many levels I don't even know where to start trying to process it.  She was taken too early, she had so many things left to do, to see and to feel and selfishly, I had so many things left to tell her.

My heart hurts so much for her.  Susan had more children to teach, bridges to go over with Miles and time to share with family and friends.

Warm summer evenings on her deck, watching the water and sipping her wine with a book on her lap.  She loved her wine and she loved her books.  Susan loved life.

I have always known that life isn't fair and it isn't easy.  No one said it would be.  But this.  I am shattered to my core and have no idea how to survive this.  I know I will.  There really isn't a choice is there?

My niece and nephews, their wives and Miles.  How do I help them when there is nothing anyone can say to ease their pain?  They lost their mother too early.  They stood by her side every step of the way and felt helpless as they watched her deal with every test, every bit of bad news and every stumbling block that hit her.  For every step she took there were five to take back.

Her cancer was relentless but she never gave up; not until the end I guess.

I feel guilty for grieving so much; like I'm being selfish.  So many people have been touched by this and I feel at times like it's only me.  I know that's not true, but I have times when I feel so alone with this pain.

Can't seem to get a handle on this grief.  I get hit with massive waves of sadness the likes I have never felt.

People die every day of all ages and means.  These people also had hopes and dreams and plans.

But this is my sister, this is our families sorrow.

All Susan wanted after she beat this cancer was a little cottage by the sea, her bicycle and her family and friends.  To teach till she was old and gray, to love her students like no one I have ever known and show them all she knew.

I am so angry this was taken from her.  I'm so sad she won't have these things, that her children won't have her anymore, that Miles will never be with her again.  That I've lost a sister, a mentor, and a friend who listened to me not eight months ago crying over my wows all the while she battled this cancer.

Mostly, I am grieving that my sister didn't get to live the life she so wanted and so richly deserved.

At the End of the Day

At the End of the Day, it's just you and your husband. No one else. No distractions.  The good the bad and the worst. That's it.

So today was the first day that Matt and I officially worked together. Matt got his real estate license and I am the weekend secretary at the office where he will hang his license.

Marriage is a funny thing. You go through ups and downs, some worse then others. During those times you decide to stay or leave, try or give up.  Defining moments.  Life-changing choices.

Matt and I have had our share of ups and downs like all married couples.  Some trivial, some marriage ending, foundation breaking times.  Stay or go. Make the choice.

We decided to fight, long and hard up hill battles that were not meant to be won. But we struggled, cried, cursed and lashed out.

And here we stand.  A bit bruised and worn, but standing nonetheless, strong, side by side.

I watched my husband today, his first day as a real estate agent, work with confidence.  Ask questions when needed and go forward alone to rise or fall, to fail or succeed.

I am so proud of him, of us.

Sitting back watching him work today, in my environment was scarey, exciting and so rewarding.

We made it through all the shit, the petty crap we all go through and the heartwrenching ups downs of a marriage.

I am so glad we stuck it out, had faith enough in each other to continue to grow, learn, grovel and forgive.

Today,  watching him, I knew we made it.

My Girls

Sitting on my couch at midnight on December 7, 1999, not able to sleep knowing something was; changing. I couldn't put my finger on it but I knew there was something in the air that just wasn't the same.  It couldn't have been five minutes later when my only daughter, who had just that day turned 20 quietly told me that she was pregnant.

I hugged her, asked her if she was sure and then just sat with her in the dark for sometime in the silence of the night, not really saying anything, just taking in the moment.  My single, out of control, bipolar, beautiful daughter was going to have a child.

Without even asking her I knew that abortion was out of the question.  It wasn't something that she believed in for herself. Adoption was out for us as a family.  We also knew that marriage was not in the cards for them.

The father and our daughter had a long and volatile relationship. She was bipolar and he had issues as well.  Both good people but not good together.

I decided that the best thing to do would be to tell her dad the next morning when cooler heads might prevail. My husband's personality lends itself to an initial outburst and then calm.

So, the next morning I woke him up with the news.  I informed him to get out any comments he felt he had to blurt out now and not in front of our daughter.  Once words are spoken, they can't be take back.  You are either on board with this or your aren't.  It's that simple. Of course, he was on board.

Fast track 17 1/2 years.  Madison, our beautiful, quirky, smart, kind and compassionate grandchild is preparing for college.

All those many years ago our daughter decided to raise this child and abandoned her issues, fears and habits. The result is an amazing young woman who has broken all the molds.

Dreadlocked, tattooed mother who took motherhood more serious than most.   She has withstood ridicule, dismissive adults and down right cruel human beings thinking they knew, when in fact, they knew nothing.

Madison is the result of a strong, determined, selfless child in her own right that did the right things for all the right reasons.

With all of Madison's successes and achievements, there was her mother, right behind her steering and navigating the waters for her, with her.

So, come June, when Madison graduates and moves forward with her life; momentarily leaving her mother behind, I can offer this little bit of thought.

Child, you have done so much with your child. In a world of the Internet when every social site holds more clout than you, you over came that, you rose above it and blew right through it.

You did it ladies.  Take a bow,  know your worth in this world and keep shining, keep moving forward and never look back.

I could not be prouder of either if you.

Open Thoughts

This is so not about me; yet I'm so lost.  I feel like I can't catch my breath; like I'm drowning within the air that surrounds me.  I have so much I want to say and have no idea how to say it. In comparison, this is nothing.

How do you begin to tell someone that the sadness you feel has no limits or bounds?

What their presence in your life has meant and still does?  How do you let them know how proud you have always been of their accomplishments, their achievements and their stead-fast resolve at everything they have done.  How their strength and weakness in what they face has been profound to see and also humbling.

Good morning. Hey there. Hi. Yo. GM. How are you? You doing ok? Tired? Feeling ok? Can I do anything?

How many ways can you say good morning to someone who you just want to know is ok, even thought you know they aren't.  Asking someone how they are when everyone asks the same question in many different ways must be tiring, yet maybe comforting knowing how many people care and love you. But, frustrating to say the least.

I could go on and on about how unfair this is, on the heels of dad's death.  How for so long you were the pillar for mommy and daddy; the bill payer, the solid voice of their needs.  Always including Barbara and I yet carrying the burden of authority.  Never one to delegate, the weight fell on you.

And now this... Unfair, yet, what is fair?  Selfish for me to say "why you, why her?" Still, I say it; not wanting it for anyone else, but certainly not for you.  Not now, not ever.

How do you let someone know how you have been so intimidated by them for so long, which makes it hard to open up, to be at ease with them at times, to say what you want to say without sounding like an idiot?  That for so long, long before this disease, you wished for more time, more moments, yet were too foolish to ask for? My weakness and lack of confidence has made our relationship; at times awkward.  I feel foolish with things that I say and answers that I get.  Out of my league.  But wait, we are sisters, born of the same cloth, yet so different.; but not.

So with this, how do you let someone know that there is no pity, just profound sadness that there is nothing you can do to change anything.  You can be there, talk, listen, hug, hold, be a punching bag; whatever that person wants or needs.  But you can't change this; no one can, we can only hope and pray that God has a plan.  You can't take it away and put it on yourself.  Which, I have learned through all of this, I would do in an instant for you sister.

How do I let you know that if this battle is lost, the space that we encompass will never be the same.  That your legacy will never be forgotten or taken for granted.  And that won't be enough; not for many, not for me. I refuse to believe that this is the PLAN; that this is how it has to be.

Fight a good fight sister, stay strong and don't lose focus.  Yet,  as you said to me one day not so long ago; you are praying for the wisdom to know when to keep fighting, yet also, to know when it's time to let go.

Dear Susan; I hope that is a decision you never have to make.

The Mirror

Who is this stranger that I see in my mirror?

The face I see in the mirror, can that be me; really, is it possible.  Where once I saw crystal clear eyes that showed excitement and wonder at every turn, I now see tired and weary eyes looking back.  I see graying hair where once I saw only blond curls blowing everywhere.  I see my face, once cute and firm, now dreary and weather worn; sagging cheeks and neck.

I see my hands, that once were trim and fit, always working; still always working but wrinkled and old.  I see my body, once attractive, fit and tanned.  Now I see sagging skin that once was taut, I see rolls where firmness once was.  I see my breasts, the ones I feed our children with, now sagging to a degree that I never would have imagined.

Where did I go?

So now, that I am aging and not the beauty of my youth, am I no longer exciting, no longer mysterious to you?  Maybe not; but my mind is still young, my heart is still young.  Do you no longer cherish me, want me or desire me?  Don't see my weary eyes, see the sparkle that is still there just waiting to be touched.  Don't see my lack of energy as lack of passion, it's there just waiting to be rediscovered.


See me....

Letter to my husband

For an obscure, unknown writer as myself, I seem to have a global following.   I get emails every week, mostly from women, who want me to tell their story.  These women are from all over the world, all ages, yet they seem to have the same story so many times.

The request that I get most is about husbands, lost love and passion.  So, I have decided to dedicate this blog to all the women who have reached out to me, told me their personal tales of sadness, happiness and hope.  They have  shared with me intimate details of their lives and for that I dedicate this blog.  I hope you find some solace in knowing you are not alone and there is hope.

I have commingled their stories into this blog.

Marriage, most likely one of the most difficult endeavors anyone can take on can be fulfilling, heartbreaking and everything else under the sun.   To say it's hard is an understatement.  Is it doable? I guess that depends on who you ask, or when in their life or marriage you ask them.

With that said, and after talking to so many women about their marriages, ( I have that face that people trust and talk to, and an email address, and I love it), ups and downs and raw heartbreak, I have decided to write a letter to my husband, meaning all husbands, as it very easily could be any of us who share theses emotions, feelings and loss that have been so painfully shared with me over the last months. This is not my story, this is your story that you have so gratiously shared with me.

And yes, it could be a blog Dear Wife, but since I am a wife and I have a husband and have spoken to many wives either in word or email, it is Dear Husband.  If I have offended anyone, get a life, realize the world does not revolve around you and see the world as it really is.

Dear husband:

Can I still call you husband?  In reality we have been more like roommates for what seems like forever.  A hug, a peck on the cheek, a glance when we walk in the door. Dinner with pleasant conversation only to part ways in the hallway at bed time.  You to your room and me to mine.  Always pleasant, always an I love you; but it seems routine, almost like a recording.  There is no emotion there.

You with your internet or TV, me with with tears and TV, longing for something more and not having any idea how to find it.

Do we mean it, are we sincere in our "I love yous"?  I hope so, but who knows..

Years come and go, time passes all to quickly.  We raise our children with all that goes with that.  We grow older, problems come and go. Passions wain and we seem to seek excitement anywhere but home.  How could we let this happen?  Where did we get so lost that our thoughts turned to the outside instead of towards each other.  What happened to the young lovers who swore their allegiance to one and other regardless of the problems they faced?  Did we become so self absorbed that we forgot the person we made our vows too?  Are we so selfish that we forsook our partner for our own passions and needs?

When times get tough why do we escape anywhere but home, where it should be the safest and most loving?

Is it because it's to hard to face our innermost demons, to hard to admit our shortcomings, failures and fears? Don't you know that I am going through the same fears, insecurities as you?  That my longing for basic intimacy and communication is just as strong?

Your sexual ability to make love to me traditionally disappears due to illness so you turn outwards to strangers not realizing the worth of a husband is not the length and girth of his manhood.

For me, your wife, I have suffered through my own devastating sexual issues.  Painful intercourse after menopause, body changing and sagging, just cementing my self of body loathing and lack of self confidence even more, along with your distance. All this only intensifies my feelings of inadequacy as a woman, your partner, your wife.

Both sides insecure and both sides handling it so differently.

Your sleeping in the other room so you won't disturb me with your sleeplessness went from a week to years.  Again, only solidifying that as an older woman, I can no longer please you. I am no longer what you desire, no longer attractive to you; even though you yourself have aged in body and mind as well.  Why is it so different for a man?  Is it only the woman who needs to stay sexy, alive and vibrant?

You want  a sexy wife; when is the last time you put on an outfit for her to lust after.  Our society has made it so important for the wife to be slim, perky and always in attire to stimulate their man.  What about you?  Where does your responsibility lie?  It shouldn't be about facades, it is so much deeper and more intimate then that.  Years of working together, crying, laughing and just wanting the pain to end but enduring because your love is so strong.  Sagging, wrinkling, and aging is a sign of survival, nothing more.

But as you pull away because of your pride at not being able to fuck your wife for five hours, you neglected to see I changed too.  I can no longer handle the pain or traditional sex, yet I still yearn for your touch, sex in any other way than intercourse.  But you are conditioned from an early age that if you don't have a hard, huge penis, you can't please your woman.  How far from the truth is that? Miles and miles and miles.    So you search the internet for the nameless while I crave your familiar touch.

So in all this loneliness does one of you cross the line, go for it because you just can't see what is in front of you?  You bite that forbidden fruit, literally or figuratively. You go anywhere where you think you will be loved.  Anywhere but home.

Are you so blind that you can't see the love you are looking for is waiting for you. The excitement you think you lost, yet found outside is an impostor, a charlatan only looking out for themselves, not caring about you, just stroking their own ego; is this who you seek?  They could not care less about you or your life, your feelings, your past or your dreams.  An illusion to stroke their ego all the while lying to you while you lie to me.

Foolish person.  Open your eyes. He/She is right in front of you. Show love, compassion, kindness and understanding and it will come back.  The passion is there, it just got so lost and distorted we lost track of it.

Both of us, find it, nurture it and never let an outsider tell us our business or set inside our boundaries again.  Because they are just that, outsiders that we have a false impression of.  An illusion of the past, a more innocent time we all crave.  Don't you think I crave that as well.  Do you think I am content with life as it is?  A room mate, dinner companion and travel partner...  But it's important to remember why that outsider became outsiders to begin with.

You fell in love with me for a reason, remember what it was, and I you.  We need to work for it, do our share and more.  We can't let pride or ego get in our way.

So dear husband, learn from this, grow with me; realize my pain when I have it and understand why I have it as I will you.  Don't turn away because it is hard, turn towards me because it is where you belong and where we will find true happiness.

Love

Your wife

Emotions

What do you do when there is nothing to do? When a situation arises where all you can do is wait, be patient, and of course worry. It's agony. That's the only word to use.

But what if this waiting game wasn't yours personally, but a loved one?  You are not personally going through the physical or mental drama but yet you are, and you wish it were you, not them.

Do you hover, hound, pester and continually ask how are you, you ok, can I do anything? How do you know how long to wait before you ask again or call or text with a random question, just to touch base?

And how, now do you tell that person just how much you love them and need them without making it sound dramatic or anticlimactic, or selfish or too emotional? Things that should have been said all along yet maybe understood without words all along. But can, you be sure?  Are you ever sure?

How do you articulate to someone that although you might not have always agreed with the method of an action, you always knew the right decision had been made, that you never once doubted the end result, ever; just the execution or the feeling of being pushed away; not needed.  How do you burden someone with your insecurities when they themselves are dealing with more than anyone should.  You don't.

Is there ever a way to say what you feel during stressful times without tears or sadness?  I don't know, but I doubt there is, for me anyway. And maybe, just maybe, there should be tears. Tears don't mean weaknesses; they show passion and caring.

So, in the end you wait, you love, and you pray.

Really, what else is there to do?

The Election

To say that this election has brought out the best and worst in people is an understatement.  I'll be glad when it's over.  I do have to say, that although I post political articles at times, I can't remember ever insinuating that anyone who didn't have my opinions or was voting for someone that I thought  shouldn't be elected, was a racist, homophobic, women hating sub-human with no education. I hadn't realized several of my friends thought so little of me as a human being.

And inasmuch as I can't see how people can vote for someone, who in my opinion cannot be trusted with our country, I don't feel you are a drooling idiot who needs to be shamed and put in their place. I don't feel the need to label you.  Stop with the fucking labels already.

I was a democrat all my life, voted for Bill Clinton twice.  It was during his second term that I realized that the Democrats were not, in my mind, who they purported to be.  So I decided to do some homework and did all I could to educate myself on the parties, their records and what they cared for and how they went about running the country.

Do I love everything about the Republican party? Nope.  I don't know how anyone can agree with a President, party, or left or right all of the time and on everything.  But I needed to make a decision on the overall pluses and minuses; which I did.

I believe in my heart of hearts the the Clintons are very corrupt.  I don't believe that Hillary Clinton could tell the truth if her life depended on it and I honestly don't believe she gives a shit about anyone but herself.  Do I like everything about Donald Trump.  Nope.  But again, I believe he can make our country strong and proud again.  I believe we need borders.  I believe if you love America enough you will come in legally; just as our ancestors did through Ellis Island.

This does not make me a piece of white trash who never got out of the 4th grade and is a christian nut job.

My opinions, my thoughts and that's that.  So, with the election just a few days away, so many friends have laid claim to knowing what is best for our country and for me, To my face I have been lectured on "how could you, I know you and your family, you are good people. Let me tell you where you are wrong"  And if you dare to disagree with them, social media at its finest.  Trash, bash and label all who oppose you.  The media does it, the candidates do it; just didn't expect friends to.

I have thick skin, I guess I'm just disappointed in that when someone says to me that the are for diversity, being one's own self and not to be judged it only means if you agree with them.

Are their people like that on both sides; absolutely.  But this is my blog and I'm just speaking about my experience.

And for all of you who are "moving out of the country" if Trump is elected; I'll bet if celebrities said that when Obama was running they would be labeled racist.

It amazes me that if you don't like Hillary Clinton or didn't like Obama, you must hate women and blacks.  Jesus Christ; isn't it racist to vote simply for a color or genitalia type?

I don't care what sex or color our president has or is.  I want them to be the best for us, AMERICA.

Anyway, rant is over.  Just had to vent after reading just another post in which all people supporting Trump are stupid idiots who hate everyone.

Please get out and vote on Tuesday

Turning 60

Yes, I know, the alternative is to wake up dead.  I don't want that, trust me.  But 60....... My mom was 60 once.  I also know it's just a number.  But it's my number; well almost. Tomorrow I turn the big 60. I have informed my family I don't want a party.  If I could sleep all day I would. Bury my head under the covers and maybe it would go away.

Matt and I will go to dinner and I'll ask him to avoid the topic, then I'll talk about it the entire meal.  I know I'm being silly, immature really; and I know I'll be fine the day after.  It's just.........

SIXTY....  For fucks sake, that's a large number.

I was very excited about 50.  That's when I thought I would wake up thin, blonde and tan; oh and have sex all the time because when you are 50, you can't get pregnant, your kids are grown and gone and, well, that's what women do whey they turn 50.  They romp.  It was all a lie, I didn't romp.  My mind does wander and fantasize just a bit.  But, nonetheless, I was very excited about 50.

But once again I say, 60!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I don't feel 60, not sure if I look it or not.  Staying chubby has lessened my wrinkles for sure so that helps.. Hopefully I have inherited longevity genes from my parents.  Bacon helps also, so does red wine, and butter, in my mind anyway.    But I digress.

In my youth I had envisioned my 60's very differently than they are now.  The fantasy:  Long silver hair flowing in the ocean breeze, walking on an island beach in my bathing suit, subtle cover up on; hand in hand with my husband.  The facts:  Thighs rubbing together, hair frizzing and our fingers too swollen from the Caribbean sun to hold hands comfortably.... But again, I digress, yet again.

I am determined to charge ahead, full speed to accomplish the things that I lay awake and fantasize about.  Take the weight off that I put  forever ago and that I HATE, finish my second book and actually find an agent to take me on as a client.  I'm determined to love what I see looking back at me in the mirror.  Not just my insides, but also the outside.  And cook a goddamn piece of fish correctly.

The list goes on and on.

That's it. My age related mini pity party is now over.

I will wake up tomorrow, happy to be alive and grateful for all I have in my life.  My family, my friends, my puppies and my health.

Happy birthday fellow Taurians.  Life is good...

My name is Richard

I don't know how long I've been living in this black hole.  I don't know what happened or why this happened to me, but I know that I've been in this dark space for some time now. I hear people talking but it makes no sense to me.  I try to form words but am at a loss most of the time as to how to answer or even what words to use.  I know what I'm saying but I can tell by the faces of my loved ones that they do not.

Loved ones; I know these people love me by the way their hand's stroke my forehead, by the way they feed me my meals with a kindness that can only come from a loved one.  I want to thank them, to hug them, to speak to them and let them know that their love is returned; but it doesn't come out. I want to walk and get up but I've forgotten how.

My life as I once knew it is gone.  I have no sense of where I am but I know it's not home. My mind, or what's left of it, comes and goes.  I have split-second moments of being aware of who is with me; and then it's gone.  

I had a wife once.  She had been long forgotten by me, but now, I search for her and can't understand why I can't find her.  I think I see her but yet, she isn't by my side.  I think I miss her, but again, I'm not sure.  I don't think I'm sure of anything anymore.

Once, a long time ago I was a strong, hard-working man; husband, father and friend. What am I now?  The shell of what used to be.  I exist but I do not live.  My day consists of being bathed, changed, fed; everything that I used to do on my own is now done for me. My mind won't let me do anything. My body is shutting down.  I am completely dependent on others for even the simplest of tasks.  

I believe if my mind would let me, I would be utterly humiliated by all this; but my mind is know where to be found.  Words don't come, thoughts don't make sense and the faces of those who smile down at me aren't familiar.  I know they belong to me but I have no idea who they are.

This life is not something that I would have chosen for me.  Those little slices of thought that I can grab onto are heartbreaking.  There is only one thing that I do know, and whenever I'm asked I can answer.  Just that one question, nothing more.  

My name is Richard.  

For this I do know................

A wife's rant

Although this isn't the blog I had intended to post right now, I decided to go ahead and share this with all of you.  I wrote this over a month ago; but never late than never.  The post that I had spoken about is on its way any day now.  Thank you for reading my words and for encouraging me to continue.  Enjoy..


It's a bittersweet day for us today. Today marks the end of my husbands eight-year journey with Walgreen's.  For Matt it has been a rewarding and extremely frustrating journey.

This blog is my take on that voyage.  One that we have taken, in part, together.

These are my thoughts, observations and feelings. I'm happy, sad, angry and frightened all at the same time. To say that this has been a roller coaster ride is an understatement.

Matt and I have meet some of the finest people that I could have ever hoped to meet. For that I am so grateful.

So, before we take our first steps with our new company, M.O.M. Refinishing, I need to get a few things off my chest.

I don't coddle my husband: I used to. No more.  Oh,I do if he is sick or sad or feeling down, but not just to make him feel better when it's not warranted.  This is by no means a blog to stroke my husband's ego.  Did I say stroke?  Oh wait, that's for another blog of an entirely different subject matter.  But I digress..

This whole eight-year trip with all it's ups and downs has hit me in the gut pretty hard and has for some time.

Matt will tell you, for the past seven years I will be the first person to tell him if he is wrong, being an ass or just plain dropping the ball.  I'm also the first person to tell him when he has made me prouder than I have ever been of him for turning himself around from something he thought he was to the man he was all along and just didn't know it.

For many years my husband worked for, and eventually ran his families business in the industrial painting and refinishing field. .  He worked his way up through the company starting with cleaning toilets and sweeping floors; as it should be and eventually inherited the company when his dad passed away and he was, in my opinion, a bully.

It was after the death of my husband's family and the business had to close that the metamorphosis of Matt's leadership style started. Slowly at first, but then with a force that could not be reckoned with.

When Matt arrived at Walgreen's I believe he had finally found his home away from refinishing.  He saw first had, away from his family, in a much larger company, the harm that an iron fist leadership can do to moral, confidence in your staff and loyalty of your workers.  It kills productivity. You want respect, you have to earn it, you can't demand it.

Out with the old and in with the new.

Matt did well and started training many new hires; many of which would became managers over the years.  All the while we waited with high hopes for his turn.  And wait we did.

It became kind of a joke for us to discuss how many new managers my husband had hired and trained and how often they would call him for advice or how to do an actual job at their new store. The best was when one such new MANAGER called and asked how to do payroll.  You gotta love it.   It was funny at first, but not so later on when store after store went to someone else.

But when a store was in trouble, who did they call, they called Matt. My husband could go into any store and turn it around like no other.

Then his health took a turn for the worse.  Bypass surgery in 2009.  Matt recovered and back to work. He took it slow but he did his duties and slowly but surely he was as good as new.

More promotions, still we waited, still he was passed over.

We talked and discussed his options and it was decided that he should ask for a meeting with the big guy. Find out where his future was headed. The meeting was set, hands were shook and he was professionally patronized; told how it isn't easy to wait, but wait he must.  Climbing the ladder takes time.

With this Matt pointed out that he had trained several of the new manager over the last several years. What you say, you did?  Ohhhhh , he also pointed out the stores he was sent into to turn around and the list goes on and on.  More patronizing gibberish, another handshake and off he went.

If he wasn't promoted because of his heart issues tell me then why was it ok for him to unload trucks in 90+degree heat, snow storms and rain storms. 20 degree days with wind chills of below zero?

You have no idea what this man did in and for his stores that went above and beyond,

You dropped the ball with this one Walgreen's. I don't know the ins and outs of promotions and the like. But I do know you lost one hell of an asset to your company.

The people of Point Pleasant knew what you had and they voiced it when he left the Point Pleasant store.  And when he came back, it came back as did the moral of the store.  What a coincidence.  

He worked just as hard as his staff, even harder. Never asked anyone to do something he wouldn't. Got his hands dirty. He was a hands-on boss, someone his staff was proud to work hard for.

Matt gave everything to you and you in turn gave nothing back. Yes, he did his job and you paid him his salary.  He went above and beyond and you never bothered to see, to notice when he was sent to a store and numbers went up, complaints went down.  Cleaner, happier, moral was up and not down.

To Matt's staff in each and every store that cried; and I mean literally cried when he left because he was one of the only bosses they could go to for ANYTHING, he actually cared. He was tough and fair and always listened to what they had to say.  He couldn't always help them but he always tried.

To the employee that he sent to the ER when he found out she was ill but too afraid to go to the Manger because she was such a bully.  Did Matt complain about this Manager, yup.  Did it help. Nope.  PC at its finest.

Men and women, old and young, it didn't matter. Every single store he went to he gained the respect of the staff and customers alike.  Oh there were some Managers that didn't like Matt.  You see, for Matt, political correctness went our the door if it didn't mean being fair across the board.  He didn't care if you were white, black, Asian, Mexican, or martian. Straight, lesbian or gay; do I need to add transgender now so as not to offend or leave anyone out? If you were given a job you were expected to do it. If you were a Manager you were expected to follow the rules, be consistent across the board and if you had an agenda, leave it at the door.  If you thought you were above it, you were mistaken.  And if for some reason you were Matt's superior and you felt you were owed something because of any of the above, you were wrong.

From his own experience from years ago, bullies were put in their place and reported and hopefully dealt with. Period.  Mind you, he tried to deal with the "victim" Managers.  The ones who had to prove something to themselves. If that didn't work, then and only then on very rare occasions did Matt go higher up.  If it meant the crew, the worker bees were being mistreated because of some over zealous yahoo, he went to the mat for them and they knew it.

Life isn't fair. I don't expect it to be. I don't expect to be handed things gratuitously.  I would hope though that when something is earned so many times over it would be noticed and rewarded as such.

I guess Matt just didn't kiss the right ass.

Rant over.

His new life starts now.

My dad, dementia and me - and emotional day

This isn't going to be a very long post.  Not sure why I'm writing it actually.  Just feeling very emotional this morning.  I didn't start off feeling this way.  My day started off with joyful expectations of seeing my granddaughters and all my children.  What could be better? A party.

I kissed my husband goodbye as he left for work and off I went into the kitchen to start the preparations for the St. Patrick's Day party.

Corned beef in the crocked pot. check... Eggs in the water to boil for the potato salad and my CD in the Bows and away we go.  That's when it hit.

My sisters and I grew up in a home filled with music. All kinds of music. Loud and often.  Today, for me, it was a day for Gilbert and Sullivan's The Mikado.  As the orchestra started to play and my hands started to peel the potatoes without warning the tears started to flow.

I was immediately taken back so many years.  Music blasting, aromas from the kitchen filling the house and my dad enthusiastically explaining to me what the story of that particular piece of music was about. Who each character was, what part they played.  He would point out certain parts of each piece, parts that were his favorite.  He would get so into it.   I loved it and learned to love so many kinds of music because of it.

And as I was peeling those potatoes, crying and listening to this beautiful overture my heart hurt because I knew when I went to see him in the nursing home where he now has to live he won't even know who I am.

I will greet him with a big smile and a "Hi daddy" kiss him and hold his hand.  Most of the time I'll get a big smile and a hello back.  That is if he isn't having a sleepy day, which are more and more these days it seems.  But I'll remind him who I am and he'll smile back. On a good day we might even have little conversations. Not much but something to hold on to.

But today I'm going to tell him how grateful I am for all those musical memories he shared with us, and how much I appreciate so much those days of a music filled home with opera, musicals, classical and even Janis Joplin.

On my dad's bad days I pray that he will drift off and go to our mom.  Horrible thoughts?  I don't know.  I feel guilty feeling them but then again, when my dad has bad days it's very hard to hear about them and worse yet, witness.  The indignities that dementia patients have to go through every day just to survive and get through.  As a daughter it's painful to imagine your once brilliant father having to go through this.

But on his good days, when you get that big smile, with his missing tooth that he lost when he fell a few months back it makes your heart happy. And as I take his face in my hands and kiss his little bald head and tell him I love him...... and my dad looks up at me and says thank you.....

It's then that I so much want my dad back.