Tag: Happy Birthday

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Random Acts of Kindness

I know, right? Nothing for months and now two in, like, three days? In all honesty if tomorrow wasn’t Caitlin’s birthday (she’d be 36 tomorrow btw) and, therefore, Random Acts of Kindness (RAoK) Day, I probably wouldn’t have written one this quickly.

But it is (or will be) and so I am.

I think most of you are familiar with the story; Caitlin was killed by a drunk driver when she was 17 years old. It was a week before her high school graduation, three weeks before her 18th birthday. I’ll put some links in for anyone that needs a refresher; here, here, here, here, here, here, and here. Jesus, seven links, I’m pretty sure that’s a record for ICRTD. I’ll keep this one intentionally short on the off chance any of you want to go back through some of these. There’s tearjerker or two, so maybe don’t read them at work…

So here’s the deal. All I’m asking for tomorrow is that you do something nice for some random person. Whoever is behind you in queue at the coffeehouse, drive-up or wherever. You can do it anonymously if you like, or you can tell the person that it’s in memory of a pretty amazing young woman, you can do anything you like, just do something. No act is too small, I’m not asking you to drop a hundo for this, if all you do is buy a beverage for somebody, that’s great. Heck just hold the door open for a stranger if that makes you smile, or help them carry groceries to the car. Just do something nice that you might not normally do for someone. If what you do makes your eyes light up, like the ones in these next two pictures, that’s a win. Actually, it might be a good thing for some of us to do on a semi regular basis, or at least more than once a year. But if you can do it tomorrow, please give a thought to Caitlin when you do.

Last thing (I think) that I’ll ask for today, and I’m pretty sure I’ve made the same request before; if you do something tomorrow for RAoK, please mention it, either in the comments here, or through whatever social media led you here.

I’d love to know we can continue to make a difference.

Thanks.

and Peace.

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Forty Isn’t Old, If You’re A Tree

Jesus I’m old. This is not some new phenomenon btw, but today, it got reinforced in an unforgiving way. Today, my second child hit 40 years old.

Sigh.

I’m not even going to ask how it happened, I mean, duh, right? But there are questions in there. How did this cheesy little tow-head

get so old so fast? That picture feels like it was about two years ago. It also provides further documentation that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, since closer inspection reveals he is holding a chocolate cupcake. He’s also already got a well developed, if subtle, “Really Dad?” look on his face. Although I must say, I never got too many of those from him over the years. Unlike a certain unnamed sibling.

As I thought about what I wanted to say to mark today, I knew I had to include one of my fondest memories of his childhood. The day I was convinced he was going to play in the big leagues. He was a toddler, probably between 16-19 months old. We were all out in the front yard, doing I have no clue what. But he had his new, plastic bat in his hand. I was sitting on the front step of the house and he was eight or ten feet in front of me. I grabbed the plastic wiffle ball that came with his bat and tossed it to him. First time ever. So, obviously this was the first time he’d ever swung a bat at a “pitched” ball. He lined the ball off my chest. I mean like “THWACKTHUMP” quick. And that rocket shot was produced by the sweetest little, natural, left-handed swing. Now, this may not seem like anything to many, maybe most of you. But at this, still early stage of parentdom, I was convinced this kid was going to be a professional ballplayer.

Of course, he didn’t become a ballplayer. It’s safe to say the gene card deck was stacked against him. But, too, I don’t believe that was ever his passion. You don’t throw yourself into something you’re not passionate about. You don’t try to change the way things are if you’re not passionate about why the change is needed. You don’t take up the fight that benefits others more than yourself (since your ship has already sailed) without passion.

The 39th year was not an easy one for my son. He’s faced, and continues to face, a challenge that has bested many. And he keeps moving forward. Coming from a crisis state, which he was in last spring, to today, is nothing short of remarkable to me. The transparency, the openness of what he’s gone and is going through is inspiring to me. The fact that he chose to continue addressing his struggles with PTSD through the passion of his service to others is, to me, far more impressive than if he had, in fact, played major league baseball. Conceiving of Run For Our Lives to raise awareness of the very real problem of firefighter suicide, something A.) we weren’t even aware was a problem as recently as five years ago and B.) raising money for an organization, Illinois Firefighter Peer Support, (ILFFPS) that provided help for Ryan and Danielle on the day they realized he couldn’t go on, speaks to me about the type of man he has always been.

And it will always make me think about the day I got a text from Danielle that read, simply, “You have a minute”

The day he almost became a statistic.

The day he took his first step towards light.

So, at this point, I’m going to ask you to, if you haven’t already, click on this link and register to be a part of the Run For Our Lives virtual run. It’s pretty painless, mainly since you don’t need to run or walk all 130 kilometers on one day, like Ryan will. The virtual run opens February 1st and must be concluded by May 30th. The math is a little over a half mile every day between those two dates. The fee is $130 and of that amount $100 will go to ILFFPS, an organization funded totally by donations, so that they can continue to provide essential resources to firefighters, and their families, that find themselves in a crisis state. If you’ve already registered, invite a friend to do it with you. If you’re in a position to make a corporate type sponsorship, contact me and I’ll get you in touch with the right people. Before I give up this particular pulpit, let me also add a phone number or two; 855-90-SUPPORT if you or a first responder you know is at or nearing crisis. 800-273-8255 is the number for the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline for anyone that may be in need.

Lastly, I think, I want to thank everyone that has registered so far. You’re helping to make a difference in the lives of people you’ll liklely never meet and that’s no small thing.

Ok, I lied, I’ve got one last thing… I just want to wish this guy a Happy 40th!!!

I know you’re a fan of naps, but I hope as you settle into this new decade on the planet, you find true value in their recuperative powers. Even if you no longer get to share them with Tobi the Jack Russell terrorist (not a typo). Have a great day Ryan, I’ll talk to you tonight. I love you.

Peace.

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Time

As I looked back through some of my posts over the last couple years, and thinking about some that I put up on the old site, I realized that so many have titles relating to the passing of time. This is, of course, a recognition on my part of the course my family’s lives have taken over the last 16+ years. As I was chatting with the Oldest One on our daily phone call as she makes her way home from work, we talked about today (since we talked yesterday, it was actually tomorrow then…) and, as I’ve written before, today is unalterably the most bittersweet of days. We celebrate the birthday of the youngest grandchild while acknowledging another year since Diane died.

To be honest, when I sat down yesterday to work on this, my first thought was to just do some cursory introduction-type thing and then put in an excerpt from what I’ve previously written about Diane and Caitlin. After I ruled that out I thought maybe I’d just re-post a piece I’d written on an earlier August 21st.

Neither of those things felt right as I looked at them (the posts) more closely, and the more I considered it, the more I knew the day deserved its own post.

So here goes.

As the Little Diamond gets older, I want to make sure she knows the Grandma she never got the chance to know. I mean, obviously, I want all of the grandkids to know her; the Reigning Princess shares some of her personality traits after all. The Heir To the Throne and the Boy Genius, while maybe not remembering her, at least had moments with her. Moments saved on film (or, you know, digitally) that the three younger ones never will have. So, while I don’t want to gloss over the other littles, because of the connection inherent in their “shared” date, it’s important to me that LD knows her Grandma. I know they would’ve been fast friends, LD has some of Ellie’s personality and she and Diane had a pretty solid relationship, after a time. I think, Diane would’ve been in on the Jojo Siwa phenomenon too. Maybe not to the point of wearing bows and/or unicorn headbands herself but, yeah, she would’ve loved taking LD shopping for Jojo-wear at the drop of a hat. I know her heart would have been so full watching the first dance recital last spring too, just for one example.

Quick side story, one of my favorite Diane/Grandma Ellie stories at that. When the Boy Child was in the Army he bought his first new car; a Jeep Wrangler. He really enjoyed driving it with the doors off and the top down. As you might imagine, this made for a pretty windy trip wherever you were going. Diane was pretty particular about her hair. I don’t mean to say she was obsessive about it or anything, but she always looked pretty dialed in before she left the house. One day, while I was at the firehouse, the two of them got in his Jeep and went for a ride. Someone else was with them, but I’m drawing a blank on who it was. And since that part isn’t germane to the story, I’ll leave it at that. Since it was a forty-five-ish minute drive from the house in Wondertucky (not the town’s real name) to the Greater Burlington Metropolitan (all 500 citizens) area to say they were a little windblown is an understatement of epic proportions. To further set the scene, Mom’s eyesight wasn’t stellar by this point in her life. As I wrote about on the old site after her passing, it wasn’t so bad that she wouldn’t point out (real or imagined) road hazards; other cars, dogs, deer, tractors, you get the idea, but it was bad enough that she wouldn’t always see faces clearly unless they got really close. So, when they stopped in for a visit, and the Boy Child greeted her with a typical “Hi Gram!” her response was an enthusiastic “Hi Ryan! Who’s your friend?”

We all had a good laugh about that one, and reminded Ellie about it from time to time. And it’s actually memories like that one that have helped soften the loss as the years have passed. It also feels a lot healthier mentally to laugh about our past than it does to weep over it. Kind of a celebrate what you had versus mourning what you lost perspective. I’ll always be able to connect with the last days. But I try really hard not to tap into that. Especially since I’m no longer doing VIP’s. I felt like ripping open that particular vein and bleeding on the stage helped get my point across. Now that I’m done with that part of my life, my grief can finally mellow. It will never go away completely but it allows me to live a normal-ish life.

Well this is starting to take a turn on me, so let me try and get back to where I was originally headed with this thing. I FaceTimed with the Little Diamond and her Daddy this morning, and she told me they were going to the coffeehouse and then the play place. I’m fairly certain there are (were) bunny cookies and a cupcake in her future. As there should be on a birthday, amirite?

Sweetie, I don’t know if you’ll ever read this. But one day I’ll sit you down and show you pictures of an amazing woman. I’ll explain to you how she was the life of every party she attended. I’ll explain to you how much she meant to, not just our family, but through her advocacy work, to people she barely knew. I’ll explain to you how much she would have loved spoiling you, and your big brother, and your cousins if she’d had the chance. And maybe one day you’ll understand why sometimes, on your birthday, I get a little tear in my eye.

Happy birthday sweetie, I love you!

Peace

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Life with Lilly Episode 3 – Road Trip!

This is actually a two-fer, since I just snuck in a second trip this past weekend, but let’s start at the beginning, shall we?

Lilly is now an experienced traveler and she was an absolute trooper during the trip back to Illinois.  We got off to a rocky start, she began whining after about 45 minutes in the car, we weren’t even out of North Carolina yet, so I dutifully pulled off onto an entrance ramp so she could go potty.  We walked around and she sniffed for every bit of 15-20 minutes before I determined it to be a false alarm.  We got back in the car and drove to Beckley, WV for a break.  We stayed for about an hour and she not only didn’t really eat anything, she never did her business.  She did however meet a charming young Jack Russell terrier from Reno, NV. named Tank.  His human drove a tanker truck so…  He was her first doggy bud, and once they each got over the initial shock of meeting another puppy, they were besties.

A couple of hours up the road, in  Middleofnowhere, OH (not its actual name) Lilly started to whine again and this time she meant it.  I found an exit and pulled off on the entrance side and within minutes she had emptied everything she had carried with her to that point.  We made it to our hotel, checked in and hauled our stuff up to the room when I realized I’d forgotten something down in the car.  We headed back down and as we turned the corner in the hallway I saw a woman with two large dogs, a Golden Retriever and another similar sized dog.  I hesitated since Lilly hasn’t got much experience with other dogs (Tank notwithstanding) but thought since the woman didn’t say anything, her dogs must be social.  I was watching Lilly to make sure she was acting appropriately when the Golden got off its collar and charged at Lilly growling.  She cowered back into an alcove and I stepped in between the two kneeing the Golden away and telling it “NO!”.  The lady grabbed her dogs and pulled him away and never once said anything about the incident.  Nothing.  Shame on me for assuming someone could control their dog, I guess.  Had she told me her dog might be a jerk I would’ve picked Lilly up or something until they’d passed.  Oh well.  Lilly forgot about it in seconds and was proudly prancing back down the hall to the elevator.

In addition to her first time experiencing a jerk of a dog, and riding the elevator, this was the first time #LillyNO saw her own image.  The hotel room had a closet with full-length mirrors for doors.  Let’s just say hilarity ensued…

Day two was pretty uneventful.  Another false alarm in Middleofnowhere, IL (also not its real name, but equally fitting) where we sniffed around a bean field for fifteen minutes, but that was it.   We met the Great Vincenzo for coffee in Yorkville and he and Lilly hit it off great.  She also attracted attention from almost every female patron that walked up.  I think he wanted to borrow her for the day after that… just kidding… kinda…

Now, traveling several hundred miles like I do on these trips there are many rivers to cross (shout out to Jimmy Cliff) including… YES! my favorite, the French Broad River!  Of course that didn’t come until my second trip (I’ll get to that in a little bit) but this thought occurred to me while driving through Indiana.  I can’t, it seems, drive through Indiana without thinking about French Lick, Indiana.  No, really, that’s the name of the town.  Who the heck thought that was a good name for a town?  French Lick is the home of NBA legend Larry Bird btw, and I think it’s also got a highly regarded resort there.  But I can’t get past the name, you know?  If you know me IRL, you know where my mind wanders when I think about  the name.  So, exhaustive research (I GTS’d it, natch) produced this.  It’s named after mineral springs in the area.  Kind of a let down, for me anyway.

But back to my travels.  And the reason behind them.  The Little Diamond and the Heir To The Throne each had a birthday, yay!  LD became a threenager (boy did she ever, lol) and HTTP is now *checks math, looks in mirror, sighs* 18. Eightfrickinteen!  How on earth did that happen?  That’s a rhetorical question, btw.  I know how it happened.  I just have a hard time believing I have an 18-year-old grandson.

All in all, I had a great visit home.  I didn’t see a lot of family, though I stayed with the Boy Child and PhojoMama™ and their family which was a delight.  It also produced, quite possibly, one of my favorite pictures.  As you can see here, #LillyNO struck up a quick but strong bond with the grandchild formerly known as Beatle Baby who at one point leaned over and looked the puppy in the eyes and said “Lilly, you’re the best dog EVER!”  Instant heart melt.  And I can assure you, she feels the same way about him.  He read to her, played with her, cuddled with her, and generally enjoyed her company.  If it hadn’t been for the high quotient of chewable things that she shouldn’t be chewing on, I think she would have slept with him while we stayed there.

I was able to meet with a couple different friends for coffee, always a plus and in both cases entirely pleasant.  Lilly also met some of the guys at the firehouse that Sunday when we went in for Sunday brunch.  Chef Bob once again delivered an excellent meal, biscuits and gravy that would pass muster at any of the fine Southern establishments I’ve discovered since I retired.  One of the guys that I used to work with always commented how we should raffle off a chance to dine with us since Sunday brunch at the firehouse is a pretty awesome experience.  I agree, it would be a great revenue stream for the village.  #LillyNo seemed to have an innate understanding of the ideal way to address a Sunday at the firehouse.  She settled into that spot and slept soundly, only picking her head up when the tones dropped and the fellas went out on a run.  She wasn’t quite sure what to make of all the commotion, but then that’s not at all an uncommon response to waking up to the tones.  We stopped back in a couple of days later to drop something off for one of the fellas and, after saying hello to the guys working that day, quickly resumed her favorite pose in her favorite position.  Aaahhh, life at the firehouse can be so taxing.  One must get one’s rest when one can, you know?

The return trip home was uneventful, thankfully.  #LillyNO was again a real trooper, spending most of the trip sleeping in her crate on the floor behind me. Most of her random whining was put to rest by me reaching back and putting my fingers into her crate.  I don’t know if that reassured her or what, but she would quickly settle down and go back to sleep whenever I did that.

I was home for about five days and then, leaving #LillyNO in the care of my neighbor, I headed out to Chattanooga, TN for a music festival.  I met a couple of guys from the firehouse there and we had an amazing time.  A little rain, but there was only one brief delay in the music.  Chattanooga is a pretty cool town I think.  Although when our Uber driver at one point advised us that “We took back downtown” was the root cause behind any resurgence there, it caused us all to wonder when Chattanooga had been occupied, by what invading nation, and why we hadn’t heard about the conflict on the news.

One other thing that made me chuckle was on Sunday morning, as we were walking back in to the festival.  There was a man and a woman standing on a street corner by the entrance, each holding a sign advising us we should repent our sins or some similar message.,, The man, using a bullhorn, was calling out festival goers, telling them to change the error of their ways.  Now, don’t get me wrong, I think organized religion is a fine thing and I know many people who have deep, spiritual roots and find great comfort in their faith.  And I’m absolutely fine with that.  But I had to laugh when, an hour or so later the skies opened up and poured rain, chasing the proselytizers down the street for cover, while the fest patrons stood enjoying the music.  I guess Jesus didn’t approve of their message…

I also saw what may well be a copyright infringement of me.  This shirt – worn by a fellow music lover made me do a double take and prompted the picture.  My only regret is not posing with the guy for the sake of comparison.  I guess I should point out here that, the Boy Child, the fruit of my loins for Chrissakes, refers to me as “Doc Brown”.  That, of course, is the Christopher Lloyd character from the “Back To The Future” movies.  I asked the guy where he got the shirt and he said some random t-shirt shop in Florida.  I found that part odd, since it says “Myrtle Beach, SC” on it, but whatevs, right?  It’s still a classic and if I can find one, I will purchase it.  Doc Brown, my ass…

I guess that just about covers my travels for the last few weeks.  Quick Hurricane Florence update while I’ve got you… We got a little over four inches of rain yesterday.  I think up to that point we were at about an inch and a half, so yesterday was pretty wet.  No flooding near me to report, as hurricanes go, this was a good one to get my, ummm, feet wet on…  #seewhatIdidthere #sorrynotsorry.  This one turned a little more wordy than usual, but I had a lot to say so, ya know, stuff happens.

And, as Rod Stewart says “Every picture tells a story, donut”

Peace

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Twelve and Three

I debated with myself whether to do this today or not.  And I won.  And, I guess since it was with myself, I lost too.  It remains to be seen if you think I made the right choice or not.  Here goes…

Twelve years ago was very likely the worst day of my life.  The day Diane died.  Now, astute readers may recall me mentioning that that happened back in June.  That’s because occasionally, I’m an idiot.  The date in June was actually our wedding anniversary, not the anniversary of her death.  That faux pas would have cost me big time (rightly so) had I screwed up an anniversary while she was alive.

Three years ago was among the best days of my life as we welcomed the youngest of my five grandkids, the Little Diamond, into the world.  I wrote about this a couple years ago, in the aftermath of LD’s first birthday, the emotional turmoil I felt, albeit briefly.  We just FaceTimed (a wonderful bit of technology) so I could see her on her actual birthday and I’m heading home for a week, leaving in a few days, but I wanted to see her on her special day.  I know Diane would be thrilled with our grandkids.  And she would spoil them unrelentingly, and support them unhesitatingly, as any grandma should.  But it wasn’t meant to be.

While I have things to say, I chose instead to leave it at this and finish it with an excerpt from what I’ve been working on, this time from Diane’s stay in the hospital.  I may close it with pictures, I haven’t decided yet.

I went into Diane’s room, for what felt like the hundredth time since I tried to get some sleep.  She had almost constant nursing care due to the fragility of her condition.  I don’t remember who was there on the overnight shift.  I remember Dani, Manny, Laura, and Missy, but I know there were so many more.  The perfusionists too, Paul is the name that sticks in my mind.  These people were with her around the clock, working their butts off for all of their patients.  I don’t think I could ever express my thanks to them enough.  

There wasn’t much I could do except hold her hand and talk softly to her.  I know there have been studies done that relate how comatose patients can hear even though they can’t respond.  I was banking on that.  Talking to Diane about everything I could think of.  Telling her how much fun we were going to have with Elliott and our new grandson, just born in April, Damian. 

As Saturday morning turned into afternoon, the CCU waiting area started to fill with friends and family.  And again, the staff there was incredible.  They brought us food, made sure the coffee machine was full, in short just went out of their way (it seemed to me) to make sure we were as comfortable as we could be given the circumstances.  And I went back into “shuttle” mode just as I had when Caitlin was in the hospital.  I knew I could go in and be with Diane pretty much whenever I wanted, day or night, so I thought I should defer to friends and family that came to visit.  And this way Cassi could spend as much time at her Mom’s bedside as she wanted.  I shuttled people back-and-forth from the waiting room to Diane’s room.  By this time I’d already gotten to be on a first name basis with the nurses caring for her and they did a great job of keeping us informed of her progress.  

Or lack of progress.  By Saturday evening one of the nurses told me they thought Diane’s kidneys had shut down.  She had stopped producing urine.  The cardiac surgeon stopped in late Saturday night and we talked, for a while.  I told him about our family, about what happened to Caitlin and tried to explain to him how important the relationship between Diane and her daughters was.  He told me, in no uncertain terms, the seriousness of Diane’s condition.  He said in addition to her kidneys shutting down, her brain didn’t appear to be functioning.  

I understood.  Whether I had been conscious of it or not, whether I was willing to admit it or not, I could see her deteriorating.  I’m sure I wasn’t completely prepared to accept that she wasn’t improving.  And yet, I distinctly remember telling her; when we were alone, after I spoke to the doctor, that I got it.  That I knew she loved all of us.  And that I knew, more than anything, that she missed Caitlin.

So, yeah, I understood.  But I needed the doctor to understand too.  And I told him, how important it was to me that Cassi knew we did everything possible for Diane.  She’d already lost her only sister.  I needed her to know that everything that could possibly be done for her Mother was going to be done.  And he agreed.  He scheduled a consultation with a neurologist for the morning.  

The kids were waiting for me in the family waiting room that we had commandeered.  They knew I was speaking with the surgeon.  So I told them what the plan was.  The neurologist was coming in at 9:00 in the morning to examine Diane.  

We all settled in for the night.  I went back out to the main waiting area, ironically enough for privacy.  Actually, since it was well after hours I had it all to myself.  I settled in to my lounge chair and started reading “Marley and Me” again.  I was getting close to the end, I knew I wouldn’t be sleeping much tonight so I figured I could finish the book by morning.  I really enjoyed it to this point.  As I said, there were many similarities between Marley and our pup Sophie.  But the more I read, the closer to the end of the book I got, the more obvious it was to me how it was going to end.  I had to put the book down.  I just felt like I was certain Marley was getting to a point where I didn’t think he wasn’t going to be around at the end of the book.  And I had to stop reading.  I was getting too emotional to finish it.  Too many parallels between the book and what we were going through with Diane.  I put the book down and haven’t picked it up since.  It’s at home, somewhere.  Maybe on the shelf in her closet, I’m not sure.  I still haven’t seen the movie either.  And I won’t.  I mean, I heard it was well done; I just don’t have any desire to re-live that night.  I’m afraid that movie will do just that.

So I paced.  And I went in to sit with Diane.  I talked to her.  I talked to God.  I cried.  A lot.  It was my time for it.  The kids weren’t there; I didn’t have to put up a front of being strong, so I could let my emotions go where they would.  I knew there were huge differences in Diane’s condition.  In addition to what the doctor and I talked about, I could see the physical changes in her appearance. 

 And I noticed that instead of two nurses, like she’d had Friday overnight, there was only one.  

I was up before the sun again on Sunday morning; actually it was well before the sun.  I know I slept a little, but Saturday night into Sunday morning was a repeat of the previous night.  I finally got up for good, rolled up the blanket I had used, went into the back and got a cup of coffee.  Ryan joined me outside the entrance to the CCU a little after 6:00 AM.  As we sat there, making idle chit-chat, Dr. V, Diane’s cardiac surgeon, came in to do his rounds.  He was carrying a couple boxes of doughnuts for the staff.  I made a joke about him drumming up business.  He laughed and said he liked to do little things like this for the nursing staff since they all worked so hard to make the doctors look good.  I thought it was a pretty stand up move for someone that didn’t need to do it.  

Around 9:00 AM the neurologist came in for a consult.  We left Diane’s room so she could be examined.  A little while later the neurologist came out to talk to me.  She said she didn’t see any evidence of brain activity.  She said she couldn’t say Diane was “brain-dead” (a phrase I’ve grown to despise as you might imagine) because she had to do two distinct tests, separated by time.  

The rest of Sunday is kind of a blur.  There were many visitors; family members, and friends, trying their best to keep our spirits up.  I think we probably put up a good front, at least I’d like to think we did, but I’m not sure we pulled it off entirely.  I remember being in shuttle mode again several times over the course of the day.  I also remember thinking how noticeable the changes were now in Diane’s appearance.  Her face was starting to retain fluid, she looked puffy.  

When I had some time alone with her, I leaned in close and whispered to her, “It’s ok honey, I understand.  I love you and I’ll miss you forever, but I know you need to be with Caitlin again.  It’s ok.”  I had that “conversation” with her several times over the next 18 hours or so.  

It’s funny, as I’d looked at the weather forecast for the weekend; I thought Sunday afternoon would’ve been a good time to bring Sophie to visit Diane.  We could’ve sat in the outdoor courtyard right outside the Cardiac Care Unit and Diane could’ve showed off Sophie to everyone and anyone that showed an interest.  She was really pleased with what she accomplished with Sophie through their training.  She loved socializing Sophie around as many people as she could.  And Sophie ate up the attention.  But now, with the way things had turned, bringing the dog over was the last thing on my mind. 

As Sunday at the Cardiac Care Center progressed, we saw many people from across all of our various phases of life.  Family, both hers and mine, coworkers from jobs both current and past, and so many friends.  Once again, I was in shuttle mode between Diane’s bedside and one or the other of the waiting rooms.  And, once again, the staff was doing their best to make things as pleasant for us as they possibly could.  But as the day wore on, Diane’s condition spiraled down.  The kids did their best to take host pressures off of me, and it helped.  But we were all in the middle of the juggling act of keeping our best appearances up for the visitors while trying to get our heads wrapped around what was happening before our eyes.

This is an easy picture to post, from one of our best days after Caitlin was killed.  The Quiet Child’s wedding reception held in our back yard.

Obviously we had no clue what the future would bring, but this day, in particular, helped remind us that life still provided us with some good days.  And that, among those good days, you sometimes get visited by butterflies…

Peace

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For An Amazing Young Woman

Today, we should have celebrated Caitlin’s 33rd birthday.  I often wonder, as the Kenny Chesney (that’s right, I like both kinds of music, Country and Western) song says “Who You’d Be Today”.  As I wrote last year on the old site, our family looks to commit Random Acts of Kindness to honor her memory.  That helps with the day, it truly does.  And, of course, it’s always a good idea to be kind, but it just feels like the right way to honor such an amazing young woman, taken from us too soon.

The anger from that time, I think it is safe to say, has finally gone.  It took probably longer than it should have, and I don’t know, maybe not speaking about the events of that day (and the weeks, months, and years that followed it) regularly at Victim Impact Panels has finally allowed it to leave me once and for all.  I don’t know if that’s it, but that’s just the first thing that popped in my head as I realized I didn’t feel the rage (probably too strong a word but whatevs) rising in me.

The old saying goes; time heals all wounds.  But the truth, as Rose Kennedy said is more along these lines “It has been said, ‘time heals all wounds.’ I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone.”  As the matriarch of the Kennedy clan, she knew a thing or two about grieving, so I give her words a lot of weight.  She was right.  

Back to the opening paragraph; I wonder how our lives would be different had Caitlin lived.  I think I’ve mentioned here before, I keep in touch with some of her bff’s and now, fifteen years removed from the crash, they all have their own places in the world, many are married and some have children of their own.  

Would Caitlin?  

Even though Diane had an underlying and undiscovered cardiac issue, would she still be alive today?  I’ve always believed the stress from Caitlin’s death was a key contributing factor to her death.  And that without the loss of her youngest child, she would still be with us.  I think, from time-to-time, of how over the moon Diane would be with all of the grandkids.  How excited she would be (and how vocal, lol) at the Heir To The Throne’s baseball games, how fascinated she would be by the Boy Genius’ science and computer projects,  how she would be enthralled by the former Beatle Baby’s knowledge of all things Skylander, and how absolutely giddy she would be organizing a shopping trip for the Reigning Princess and the Little Diamond.  

I have a feeling I would have had to put off my retirement to bankroll those shopping trips, lol.  And there’s a really good chance I wouldn’t be in central North Carolina now.  My feeling is that she would have vetoed being that far away from the littles.  Although she did love summer and summer here is so much more, uhhh, summer-y.  

This week (this month, actually) tends to bring up thoughts such as these.  In addition to it being Caitlin’s birthday today, my Dad’s would have been the 6th, and the Oldest One’s is tomorrow.  And the 12th is the anniversary of Diane and I getting married.  So, yeah, my mind tends to wander in this direction this week more than any other.  And doing something along the lines of a RAoK helps me to keep my emotional shit together.

So, here’s my suggestion.  Actually I guess it’s more of a request.  Go out today and commit a Random Act of Kindness.  If you choose to do it anonymously, that’s cool.  If you choose to explain that you’re doing it in the memory of an amazing young woman, that’s cool too.  But if you do it, please come back here and leave a note, either on the social media that brought you here or in the comments section below, and let everyone know what you did and if you had any interaction with the recipient, what was their response.  i.e. last year, I pre-payed for a bunch of people at the coffeehouse I used to frequent.  One of the regulars, a man I’d often seen but never spoken to, got a free coffee.  The barista told him why and pointed me out, so he came over to thank me and to ask about Caitlin.  It was a pretty cool moment.

Also, if you’re so inclined, please feel free to share this however you like.  The world, imho, can always use a little more kindness, and maybe by spreading the word, more good things will happen.  It’s worth a shot.

Lastly, I leave you with this.  These two happy mugs.  Another example of pre-cellphone camera selfie to put a little smile on your face.  I’ll always remember the joy they shared, and that which they spread.  Like I said last time; love the ones you’re with and live each moment as if it were your last.  Now go be kind to someone, please.

Peace

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Moving On

As I sit here, waiting for the sun to break the horizon, I am not yet “homeless” but I am, in fact, bedless.  I took that apart and boxed it up last night, since the movers are coming today to load up the truck with my stuff so that same stuff can be reunited with me on Thursday after I close on my home.  My retirement home, you might say.  You might, but I won’t.  At least not for a few years yet.  I hope.

On the Funkenwinkel Nuisance Ranking Scale  (That’s a made up term btw so don’t bother GTSing it) I’d rate this experience so far as a solid “it’s not so bad” which is more than “why did I wait this long?” but far less than “WTF was I thinking?”.  I can’t really complain too much about it.  Other than unfortunate timing on the pick up, which will most likely, cause me to miss an evening with some of the guys from the firehouse.  Since I don’t have the power to reroute a moving van, I guess I have to grin and bear it.

One of the things that has really helped buffer the process, and in turn keep the FNRS score low has been a steady stream of music blaring into my ears.  This has helped pass the time while I’ve been crazy busy packing my stuff.  Of course it hasn’t stopped me from occasionally bouncing from room-to-room as I see something sparkly that distracts me from whatever I was packing and sends me spinning off in a different direction packing some other, random household item.  I kind of wish I could watch myself (from a safe distance) while I packed up.  I would have probably had many snarky observations about me and about my organizational skills.

Hint; I have none.

On the plus side; I have made many new friends at the local U-Haul Store…

As the realization that last night was literally the last night I’ll spend in my humble, little apartment, one that has served me so well for the last few years, I naturally look back on one of the best parts.  As realtors like to say; it’s location, location, location.  And it’s not just the proximity to downtown or mass transit.  It’s about the neighborhood.  At least in my case.  The people in this neighborhood are pretty great.  Sophie (pour one out for a great dog) and I met so many of them, and I’ll always have fond memories of them.  Marie, Ken and their boys took Sophie in for me a couple of times when the Boy Child and PhojoMama™ were unable to take her for me.  And they doted on her.  John, from upstairs took care of her, and gave her great care, while I was on shift.  And, for the last couple weeks, Amy and her kids have kind of taken me in and kept me fed.

And entertained.

This is the family I referred to recently, the one whose dogs I help walk.  Amy is an absolute sweetheart and the kids are a trip.  Case in point; I was down there the other evening doing a load of laundry while the kids were doing their homework.  Aviator (not her real name because obvs) was working on her spelling.  As you may have figured out, I’m kind of a word guy.  So I was looking over her shoulder as she worked on it.  One of the assignments was to write a paragraph using five of her vocabulary words.

She wrote it about me. (sniff, sniff)

She not only wrote a funny piece, in addition to her vocabulary words, she managed to incorporate all three of my names.  Joe, Joel, and Joelson.  Yes, I’ve added a new nickname as that’s how the Aviator refers to me.  I’ve got to hand it to her, it made me laugh when she threw that one at me.  She’s a bright kid, they both are, no question, but with this one’s wit, one day she’ll either make a lot of money making people laugh or rule the world.  She may not be the funniest kid I’ve met, but she’s the one photobombing the class picture of funny kids, no doubt.

So, briefly, to Amy, Aviator and to my dog walking partner in crime (DWPC) I can’t thank you all enough for the kindness you’ve shown me.  I so wish we had gotten to know each other sooner.  I promise we’ll stay in touch (as I told my friend Wendy, it’s up here in public now, so the pressure is on me to stick to it!) and I hope your futures hold nothing but wonderfulness.  You’ve got my digits, as the cool kids say (at least they used to.  Do they still?) so reach out any time.  If you come to NC, you’ve always got a place to stay.  You’ve touched my heart at a time when I needed it most and I hope you all (I guess I have to start saying y’all eventually but now is not that time) enjoyed hanging out with me as much as I’ve enjoyed hanging out with you.

Peace

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Wendy The Walker

What do say when you’re discussing a legend?  And I’m not even joking.  Around the firehouse (specifically in the high-rise district, but her fame has spread) everyone knows who Wendy the Walker is.  Most of the town does too, at least that part of town that exists along and/or near Main Street.

So how does one become legendary?  Let me tell you…

I don’t remember exactly when the first time was that I met her.  But I remember I was working on another shift; trade or overtime I don’t recall, but I remember I was working with a guy that lives in town.  And I walked out on to the bay floor this particular day and saw Dick standing in the back of the station, talking to a woman.  This was not uncommon, btw, Dick was almost as much of a “chick magnet” as the Great Vincenzo.  Almost.  At any rate, I walked back to see who she was.  I’m pretty sure she was introduced as “Wendy the Walker” since everyone knows her as the woman that walks four miles down Main Street every. single. day.

Thus began a friendship that I value as highly as any I’ve ever had.

Flash forward a couple years.  I remember coming back to work after Diane died.  I had been off for a month, thanks to the efforts of a bunch of guys I worked with back then, and Wendy stopped to chat when she saw me.  I think she asked where I had been since she hadn’t seen me in so long.  And, since Wendy is the kind of person that is truly interested in people, I told her the whole story of Diane’s passing.  She listened intently the whole time and from the look on her face, I knew she heard, and felt, every word I told her.

Now, often times, people will tell you “call me if you need anything” and, it’s not that they don’t mean it; many, if not most, do.  But for some it’s just platitudes and you learn to take those words with a grain of salt.  That’s never the case with this woman.  She said, knowing about our Walk 5k for Caitlin, and knowing how much work Diane did for it, “I’ll handle the publicity for the walk”

And she did.  For the remainder of the time we did W5kfC, Wendy handled it.  She wrote more articles and got them in more publications than I ever imagined possible.  And that was just the start.  Every hare-brained scheme I came up with over the years, she was all in on.  Without question.  And, also without question and, as if I ever had a choice, she became my Jewish mother.  Which worked out well since she’s, you know, Jewish.  And a mother.

She’s had a profound impact on so many of the things I do (i.e. anytime you see a “PS” on here, it’s an homage to Wendy) but not just me.  Pretty much everyone that works or has worked at good ol’ #3 has become part of Wendy’s personal domain.  And if they’re no longer there I’ll hear from her “how is my Mike?” or “how is my Rob?”  She is our chocolate fairy as evidenced by the many random deliveries from her, of something made in large part from the seed of the cacao.  Even “Bagel Saturday” a long standing tradition from a few years back included chocolate bagels.

Wendy knows many of our birthdays and makes a special trip to drop off something because “birthdays are a big deal.”  And, while that may not be a direct quote, I feel it’s close enough to deserve the quotation marks.

Which brings me to today.

Wendy, my very dear friend, you have meant so much to me, and to so many of the guys at “your” fire station, I wish there was some way to let you know just how much I cherish our friendship.  Even though you continue to try and talk me out of moving south.  You mean the world to me and I promise I’ll always keep in touch with you.  And yes, I realize that putting that in here kind of locks me in to it.  And yes, I realize that you will remind me (not so subtly) should I falter in the frequency of our chats.  You win.  Besides, I’m kinda scared of you. And I mean that in the nicest possible way.

So, while I know you’re celebrating with your favorite cellist and this all but assures happiness, I’m still going to wish you the happiest of birthdays on this very special day and I hope the rest of your birthday week (because birthdays are a big deal) is every bit as awesome as I know today is.

Happy 29th!!!

It is 29th, right?

Peace

Gi #m L