Grandma Faye

I am...struggling. I feel adrift...lost...circling the clouds somewhere with only one clear thought in my mind. When will I touch ground again?
I know that cleaning mindlessly and trying desperately to drown out this pain by absorbing myself into...well, anything I can, isn't helping me in the long run. I can't just throw on a pair of blinders and trudge through this muck expecting clean feet at the end...if I ever reached an end.
I am flailing...and I need a life boat. So...I will write.

I have experienced death before, but never has it affected me to this degree. My grandma Faye was like a mother to me in so many ways. When my mother, brother and I were stuck in a house, and much worse, a relationship with a man that abused us, my grandmother reached in a hand and pulled us to safety. She was tough, and if it weren't for her and others with whom I am lucky enough to call family, it could have ended...badly. Living with her and my my Aunts after that was like being pulled from the depths of hell to live on a rainbow. Wonderful, but a completely different world. I was such a wounded little girl that I then needed to be taught how to live my days as a happy, normal child.
I feel so blessed now, to think back to music almost constantly playing on the record player, dancing, jokes, love and smiles. Those times filled me with joy, taught me to sing and showed me what a strong woman I could become.
Later, after I SWORE I wouldn't make the same mistakes mom did, I ended up getting pregnant with my beautiful daughter at age 19. My family was pissed. I was scared to death and under pressure to have an abortion, but I just couldn't. When there were a couple of people at that point not able to look me in the eye, my grandma still helped.
As a single parent, clinging to an income and a roof over our heads, with food for at least one of us to eat, it was incredibly difficult. My grandma swooped in like the cavalry and agreed to watch Sophie while I worked so that daycare didn't take half my paycheck. It must have been difficult for her to keep up with such a rambunctious child at her age. I could never even begin to repay her for that.
My grandmother had a rough life, and even though her heart had been broken quite a few times by family, divorce, and the death of a child, among other things, she still had love to give. It might have been tinged with crazy, but I always loved that about her. I am eternally grateful for all that she gave to me and my daughter. I only regret that my son didn't get to have the relationship with her that we had. He is so young, he probably won't even remember her and that makes me a bit sad.
After I moved up to Michigan, I looked forward to coming over to her house every day from college so that she could make me lunch. I think she really looked forward to it too. I wish now, that I would have asked her more about herself. I want to know so much more about her than I do.
I feel that after I moved away, she lost that last little string that was holding her here and began to decline. I know that it has been said that one of the secrets to a long life is feeling needed. Feeling a sense of purpose. Every time I saw her after that, she seemed less and less like the woman I knew and that pained me. I felt...I still feel, that part of how her last years played out were my fault for not staying. I wish I could have been there for her more.
I always thought of her as sort of an immortal being...she couldn't possibly die. I know part of that was just me being selfish.
On March 25th, when I got the call that grandma had had a stroke and was in the hospital, I was told that she wouldn't last long and I shouldn't come. I heard the words...but my head...my heart, wouldn't let me listen. I called my husband immediately and had him come home from work early. I HAD to try and be by my grandmother's side. We left at around 6:30... less than an hour after I got the call, and drove up to Michigan. Teleportation wouldn't have been fast enough transportation at that point. By the time we got up there, it was already very late, so I dropped my husband and the kids off at my Aunt's and left immediately for the hospital. I got there at 2a.m. after driving for over 7 hours and was so happy to be able to hold her hand, that I cried.
She looked as if she were sleeping, but the Doctors assured me that she could hear me, so I talked. I talked, and I talked. I told her stories, I thanked her, and I reminisced about the 'good old days'. I held her hand and assured her that I wouldn't let the nurses do any harm to her when they came in to give her meds or a bath. I know how she always hated hospitals. Her face made it apparent that she had a lot to say about all this. I stayed in that room with her for three days. I got to know all the nurses by name and slept in the big, uncomfortable chair, hoping that I was making her happy.
I am lucky that I had the opportunity to tell her everything I needed to in that time. Many don't get that chance. I know this, and yet, I would have given just about anything to have her be able to talk back to me...to have the other half of my conversation. I am but a selfish girl.
On the fourth day, (after getting less than five hours of sleep total since I had arrived) I agreed to sleep at my Aunt's house. If only to relieve the enormous bags that had packed themselves under my eyes.
Nothing would have made me happier than to spend as many days by her side as necessary, but my husband had to go back home. Graduating with a PhD in Bio-Physics is no easy task and time away equals experiments undone, and at this point in time, potential jobs lost due to missing a job fair. We couldn't have that. I desperately tried to find ways for him to be able to get home while I stay behind, to no avail.
We left on Wednesday for Toledo to have a quick visit with my father before heading to a hotel in Fort Wayne to stay the night.
The call came early the next morning. My grandmother was gone.
It seems almost insane to me at this point that all I have of her now is pictures and memories. The woman that saved my life is now nothing but ashes waiting to be scattered on a river by her home town in Tennessee. I can't figure out how to deal with this loss. Again, I know that this is a selfish thing, but I can't get past this. I can't go a day without crying. I can't look at her picture and not miss her so badly that it hurts.
I wish that she could comfort me and tell me how to move on.

The Green Ladybug

I am proud of my daughter. I think that she is a beautiful girl with a huge heart and I am happy and lucky that she came into my world. She changed my life, and me as a person for the better and I am thankful.

After coming home from school a few days ago, my daughter was talking to me about what had transpired in her pre-teen world, while I listened, happy to still be involved. She had mentioned that she had bought a pen from the machine in one of the hallways and was happy to see that it had cute little, red ladybugs all over it.
Now, I love her, but sometimes she has a way of telling stories that go around and around with no ending in sight. (she might, or might not have inherited this trait from me, hehe) I was beginning to wonder if this was one of the a fore mentioned, when she looked at me with...a face. I focused again.
She continued, that on one side, it had one, lone, green ladybug. She said that she was even happier then, because she realized that she was like that lone, green ladybug. I asked her why, and she replied that she knows that she is different from the other kids at school. She doesn't quite fit in and gets made fun of, especially by the boys. But, she is happy that she is different, because, she can sing, and draw, and speak Japanese and all of the other things that help make her different. Her individuality makes her special.
I just about cried. I was so happy for her to have realized something so very precious in this harsh world at such an early age, I could have danced for joy right then and there.

I came from a single parent, poor household and therefor, had very little. The kids eat that stuff up with a spoon, so of course, I got made fun of for everything...sometimes, even stuff that wasn't true. I thought for YEARS that I was fat and ugly because the kids told me every day that I was. My poor self esteem carried over into my adult life and affected just about everything I did. It wasn't until about five years ago that I finally realized, with the help of my amazing husband, that I am not that fat, ugly kid I thought I was for so long.
 For my daughter, whom I love so very much, to not have to go through all of that torment in her own life, made me very happy.

I am always amazed at how wonderful my children are, but this time, I was even MORE proud of...my little green lady bug. 

Hello again, it's me. Zombie Rei.

I've been feeling wordy again lately. Not such a bad thing, except for the fact that since my last blog site closed it's doors, I haven't balled up enough nerve to throw at another. I am thankful, however, that I was at least able save my tear-stained progress before the big sayounara. At some point in time, I might actually post them here...you know, for kicks and giggles.
Secretly, I might also be hoping that writing again might serve as a muscle relaxant, of sorts, and help me to sleep like a normal human being again. Or, at least, a normal mother of two might. ;) Here's to having dreams...err...wait...