Alright y’all……I started this therapy thing a while back and everything was moving along just splendidly! I was mostly motivated to do it by the fact that I cry too dang much!! I wanna be able to see a friend cry and go give them a hug and tell em it’s gonna be alright. Instead I see em cry and don’t even know why they’re crying and the next thing I know, I’m more of a basket case than they are! Ridiculous! I know it’s ridiculous, but I can’t help it!! Drives me crazy!! Then there’s songs….different songs for different reasons. Could probably be helpful if I quit listening to country but that’s not gonna happen so we gotta find a different solution. Therapy was doin the trick. I went and cried for an hour and told her all the things that happened. I wrote a couple stories for y’all to read that helped me get out the feelings for some of the people but now it’s back!! It came back slowly….there were some little things that I was able to mostly suck up the tears for and then I lost it at church when I saw a friend crying. I was getting hugs on the way out of church and NOTHING even happened to me! Then this morning my son plays a song that mentions a 21 gun salute and Lord have mercy I couldn’t keep it together. I mean I kinda did….good enough for the moment. Thank goodness for sunglasses. I don’t even know what all the song was about….I think it was a hell of an Amen? Anyway, that’s it! I don’t wanna cry over stupid stuff anymore! So we’re gonna talk about all of y’all!! We got Daddy (oct 12, 2006), Uncle jack (April 12, 2010), Mommy (June 9, 2011), and my 21 gun salute man Poppop (Sept 11, 2016). I really don’t know which one of y’all I’m hung up on but I’m tired of it so here we go!

Daddy

Daddy and I did pretty much everything together. His wife wasn’t real fond of going out and doing a lot and my husband wasn’t very fond of me period so whatever we did, we did together. Daddy lived next door so it was pretty convenient. We called each other up to go grocery shopping, go to the flea market, take the kids on adventures, whatever popped in our minds that day. Shortly before he died, he started taking diet pills (I think that’s what it was). I don’t know if they reacted to another medicine he was on or what happened but it changed him completely. He became violent and angry most of the time, which was the absolute polar opposite of his normal self! I tried to talk to him multiple times about it and begged him to stop taking them but he wouldn’t. I spoke to his wife and asked her to try to do something. I don’t know if she did but if she did then it didn’t work. A few episodes that happened shortly before he died…….He was arguing with his mother and when his dad came out with a golf club he snatched the golf club and broke it over his knee. Another time his mother and I tried to talk to him about it and he picked up a chair to throw at her. I had to stand between them. So the final episode……the last time I spoke to my father…..I had my youngest son in the car seat and I left the car running to go in his house and explain to him that as long as he was taking those pills then I couldn’t be around him or allow my children around him. I was fairly close to the door and he was another room away from me when I told him. I saw him turn red immediately and start running towards me. I took off to the door and made it but he grabbed me and had me in a head lock. I honestly don’t know what all he was screaming but I managed to get loose and get the door open to run out. He then grabbed me by my ponytail and pulled me back in the house. I got free again and made it to the car and took off. I called his wife to tell her what happened but she just laughed and said to just leave him alone and he was fine. He called me a few times and left messages on my answering machine begging me to talk to him but I refused to do so until he stopped with the pills. Two weeks after this incident I was home late one night just playin on the computer after the kids were in bed. I got a phone call, the man asked me if I could come to the door. He said he was a police officer and he was outside in my yard which scared me to be honest. I started asking who he was and why he was in my yard. He then said I’m actually and your mother and father’s house but I need to speak to you. Well I immediately assumed that daddy had done something to his wife and I panicked and agreed to go to the door. When I answered the door I had a devastating and somewhat ridiculous conversation with the officer:

Officer- Ma’am your father was involved in an accident tonight in Orangeburg.

Me- Oh no! Is he ok? (Cause cops always come to relatives doors when there are fender benders!)

Officer- No ma’am I’m afraid not.

Me- we’ll what’s wrong? Is he gonna be ok?

Officer- No ma’am I’m afraid he’s passed away.

Me- (silence) THOSE DAMN PILLS!

I then said thank you and began to close the door. He said wait I need someone to go be with your step mom. I said well I can’t! My children are sleeping! I then told him I would call my brother which I did. I also called my aunt who had me repeat what I was saying 3 times and then just basically screamed into the phone as if I could somehow change the outcome of the situation. My grand parents were out of town and we had to call them home early. The wait for them to get home was just horrific. People cried, plans were made, time just seemed to fly and stand still at the same time. When it was funeral time, I was completely unprepared for what I was going to do. I had minimal experience with funerals and dead bodies etc. (That was gonna change pretty quickly!) I remember seeing my grandmother touch a body in a casket and thinking it was absolutely disgusting! Well when I walked in that room and saw my father in that casket I wanted to crawl in it with him! I didn’t give a damn about what was gross or weird or inappropriate! I repeatedly told him I was so sorry for not talking to him and the crying was absolutely uncontrollable. I was shaking so bad I could barely stay standing but I refused to let go of his hand! Thankfully I had a couple friends who stood around me and supported me both physically and mentally. If nothing else I can honestly say I have been blessed with some of the best friends anyone could ask for. People were coming up to see him of course which I was fine with but I wasn’t going to let go of his hand! The only people I remember were the friends who stayed with me and at one point one of my cousins came up and for whatever reason I latched on to him. We weren’t even very close….hell if I know, it just happened! I feel like he actually halfway calmed me down SOME. (If you’re reading this, thank you so much! It did mean a lot!) of course I had to eventually let go for the funeral to proceed but I so didn’t want to. I remember if nothing else thinking that I had held his hand long enough that it didn’t feel cold anymore and I wanted to keep holding his warm hand and of course they would close the casket and that would be the end of ever seeing or touching him for the rest of my life! I just wasn’t ready for that. The funeral went on and I don’t have a clue what anyone said about anything. We moved on to the grave site and again…..not a clue what was said! What I do remember is them lowering that casket into the ground. Lord have mercy! That was so painful to watch! I feel like I should mention my current husband who, at the time, was just a boyfriend yet he came home immediately when I called in the middle of the night (which isn’t easy for a truck driver) and took care of my boys this whole time when I didn’t even know if I was still in this world let alone where they were. He’s a pretty awesome man. So once the funeral is over we’re back to the houses to stare at food and each other in hopes of the pain lessening. No such luck for quite a while. I remember sitting home and listening to those answering machine messages begging me to call him just so I could hear his voice and beat myself up for not calling him. I finally got to the point where I was pretty sure I was gonna end up in the loony bin! I drove to the dr’s office without an appointment and with my toddler. I was crying uncontrollably and had been for days. I couldn’t stop! I needed some kind of help! They put me on anti depressants and eventually some of it helped. Here’s the part where y’all are gonna think I’m crazy, if you haven’t come to that conclusion already. About 2-3 week’s after daddy died I had a dream. Like a crazy vivid dream. I dreamed that daddy was sitting in the barn behind my house and he was calling me out there to come talk to him. He was so young! I don’t know what age but I would guess in his 20s. In the dream I was a small child and he picked me up and sat me on his lap. I immediately started apologizing and explaining how sorry I was and how scared I had been of him when he was taking the pills. He hushed me and said it was ok, That he could now understand what was going on and that I had to do what I did. We hugged and that was the end of the dream. Now I don’t know if y’all wanna consider that an actual visit from him, a message from God, or simply my mind making up what I wanted to hear but it helped me significantly! I thought I could go on with life again. I still remember grabbing the phone to call him a few times before it sunk in good that he was gone but I wasn’t nearly the basket case that I had been. I thought for sure that I was completely cured of any sadness from that point on. I had family members building monuments, planting flowers, plastering pictures everywhere but I felt no desire to do any of that because, with the exception of the last two weeks, I spent as much time with him as I possibly could have and loved him as much as I could and I know he loved me. There was really no “unfinished emotional business” other than the two weeks that he just explained to me that he understood. So I picked up and moved on and all was well. At least I thought so but judging by the amount of tissues I’ve gone through while typing this and the number of times I’ve had to clean my glasses so I can still see……I’d say I was wrong!

Uncle Jack

Now this one was mentioned already in a previous blog because this is the one I know I’m not doing well with! So I guess I’ll be repeating some from my previous story but here we go. Now Uncle Jack wasn’t someone I saw every day. He lived in PA with my mother. I eventually learned that Uncle Jack grew up with a very abusive alcoholic dad. Here’s the best part of that…..:he worshiped my mother, it was just Uncle Jack that he beat on! I’m sure that sends your self esteem flying through the roof! His father died when he was a teenager, thank goodness, and then he had step fathers who probably weren’t great but comparatively couldn’t be much worse. (I sometimes daydream about digging up my good ole grandpa and just kicking him repeatedly…..:.I haven’t yet so don’t call the loony bin for me just yet!) OK so he made it past an abusive father and eventually to a point where he had a mother and sister dependent on him. Again, I didn’t know till I was older, but my grandmother wasn’t the easiest person to deal with. I’m not sure he ever even thought that about her though. Anyway, the man got himself through college and excelled academically and was awesome in the theater department. He finished school and got a job working with computers at a time when computers were still a mystery to most people. Let’s just say he picked a good field of study for his time! He did well enough to take care of them both and he did. They were always priority number one and then I came along and scooted them to priority two! Lol! I don’t know about all that but I do know that he was just as loving with me as he was with them and I could count on him for ANYTHING! His caring for my mother took quite a toll on his mental and physical health. It was really hard to watch but there was nothing I could do. Any way I knew to save him required him disclaiming her and he refused! So we eventually got to the point that it was necessary to move them both closer to me because I needed to help care for them. I started getting all excited thinking I would have Uncle Jack close by and due to my mom’s health, it would soon be just him and I could nurse him back to health and he could have a wonderful life watching my boys grow up! Well it quickly became apparent that after years of caring for her, he was the one in the worst shape! He lived a short 3 months after moving him here. Which I should have known he wouldn’t have agreed to burden me with it had he had any other option. OK so here we go reliving this again. I came into the house that morning ready to start my regular routine. I passed by his hospital bed and thought something looked strange but didn’t want to alarm my mother so I just kept going to the kitchen to put up groceries and was glancing back at him. He wore a Cpap machine which made it harder to decide if he was breathing or not. I got concerned enough that I walked over and tried to wake him up. I hollered his name and nothing. I shook his arm, which was ice cold, and nothing. I snatched the mask off of his face and nothing! His lips were blue, his fingers were blue. He was obviously gone. I called 911 and she asked if I wanted her to talk me through CPR. I initially say yes but then said it’s pointless because he’s already ice cold and also I remember that he has a DNR. The paramedics arrive and confirm that he’s gone. My mother, who is also unable to walk, wants to get to him. So I get her in a wheel chair and wheel her to the side of his bed. The other side of the bed is against the wall so if I want to get to him too I literally have to climb in the bed…..and I did want to so I did climb in the bed! (Same person freaked out about touching dead people has now refused to let go of a dead man’s hand and is presently crawling in the bed with a dead body!) We stayed there waiting for the coroner. We cried and hugged on him and held his hands. I’m sure the poor paramedics thought we were insane and I don’t give a damn because they don’t know! It’s just another dead body to them. But he wasn’t just another dead body! He was everything. He gave everything and then some to his mother, his sister, and me! He was the most wonderful and loving person I have ever known in my life! I don’t believe I will ever meet someone as selfless as him again and really I hope I don’t because that amount of selflessness is too much! That’s why he had a rough life, that’s why he was bed ridden at the end, and that’s why he was dead at a young age! Because everyone came before him to an extreme that it literally killed him! They came and took him to the funeral home. I remember them calling to tell me that the body was ready to be viewed. I had ZERO desire to do that! I had laid in bed and hugged him and told him bye and had no need to see him again. I wanted to remember him before, not in a casket. My wonderful husband agreed to go do the viewing so that I wouldn’t have to. Funeral time came and my mother decided that she didn’t want to go through riding an ambulance to be there so, as I said in a previous post, the funeral of the most wonderful man who ever lived was witnessed by me, my husband, one of my boys, and a preacher who had never met him. Unreal to me! Horrible, evil people have funerals with people lined down the road for a mile and this amazing man had nobody! If nothing else, it’s changed my thinking about funeral processions. I see a long line and I no longer think it was a person any more important than one with nothing but a family car. Because the attendance means nothing! Now I had to get back to taking care of my mom so I remember a little crying session where I hugged my mom and told her how sad it was to be at the funeral with nobody there but that was about it. I had to move on and take care of her and his estate and there wasn’t much time to sit around and cry.

Mommy

My oh my I’m getting tired and possibly dehydrated after all this crying! I’ve told my Mommy story before so I’m just gonna hit some highlights and let y’all go read an old post if you’re interested. My mom was basically a very fun,crazy woman to hang out with! I idolized her as a child but then either her true colors began to show or I just became more aware. She was nearly impossible to satisfy! I have no doubt that she loved me and my uncle for that matter but, in my opinion, she had already killed my uncle and I was next! She was so demanding and life was so difficult taking care of her. It didn’t take me long to lose sight of the fun things about her that I used to love. Towards the end she ended up in a nursing home where she was extremely demanding with them and her size made doing things for her a huge ordeal because it required multiple CNAs. So she basically checked herself out of the nursing home at which time I was a basket case! I had people who had been around to witness how she was and they told me to walk away. They said you’ve done all you can and she refuses to do what’s best. She’s going to kill you! (That is seriously paraphrased) So I did! I went in the ambulance and told her bye. It was an awful emotional moment and I didn’t know what to do next. The ambulance service called to tell me that she had made them leave her sitting on the side of the bed which isn’t something she is even capable of! I asked what I’m to do next and they said nothing! Well that makes no sense! I mean she literally can’t do anything without someone so do I just wait for her body to rot or what? The lady helping to care for her at the end wanted to go out and check so I told her to go and of course she had fallen on the floor and it was a horrible mess! I called 911 and headed out there. I tried to hold her up so she could breath until they got there which tore open a previous hernia surgery (another long story) and they got her to the hospital. I came in and the dr stopped me to ask what had happened. I explained my story and she then told me to leave!!! Again I hear, she is going to kill you! Just leave! I asked how they would get in touch with me if I did that and she said your number is in the chart just go home. So I did. Of course I was a basket case and two days later I get a call that she is in ICU! She has aspirated and is on a ventilator. I rush there and the dr tells me that he doesn’t expect her to recover but he is trying her on antibiotics. He wants to give it 3 days. So he makes plans to remove her from the ventilator and says not to expect her to live long so we gather the family and go to the hospital on the 9th. Did ya happen to notice that daddy and uncle jack died on the 12th? Well when we got to the hospital the dr said he didn’t think she would make it and he wanted to wait 3 more days with the antibiotics (which would be the 12th). I asked if he thought her chances would be greater then and he said No!! What the heck? Ok so we have gathered the family and mentally prepared that this is happening today and now you wanna wait 3 days with zero more hope? No thanks! Besides the 12th isn’t a good day for me! He says I made the right decision and to this day I’m trying to understand why there was even a decision to be made?? So my husband, the lady who had been caring for her, and myself were at her bedside. (Not a huge family gathering) They removed the vent and we basically watched her die as I held her hand. I’m not Catholic so it slipped my mind but AFTER they had removed the vent it occurred to me that they believe in the last rights so I ran out and had them call the Chaplin who made it in time thank goodness. It was like the second she finished my mom passed. It was crazy to see. So again we face funeral time. She had always said what she wanted to wear and be buried with etc so there was really no guessing on that. I gathered everything I had been told to use and took it to the funeral home. They called for us to view the body and I went this time because I felt responsible to be sure all the things she wanted were there. There was a stuffed animal and certain clothes and some jewelry that she wanted to be buried with. Well after the viewing the funeral home asked if I wanted to go ahead and take that stuff home. I said NO!! She’s supposed to be buried with it! That’s the whole point! I think they thought I was crazy but whatever….I’m doin what the woman told me to do! So come funeral time we had a decent crowd. Some people knew her from many years ago but mostly just family and friends there to support me which again goes to show that the amount of people at a funeral means absolutely nothing! So I cried and it was a rough time…..I basically jumped right into dealing with the estate and cleaning things out and I never turned back! Ain’t nobody got time for that! The longer it’s been the sadder it gets because I’m finally far enough removed from all the hell she put me through to start remembering some of the good times we had. Then of course there’s the guilt. Did I kill her? Is it my fault? I feel like the answer is at least kind of yes….I mean had I gone home with her and continued then she would probably be alive. I think there’s a decent chance that I wouldn’t be, but does that matter? I don’t know….:I struggle with that one!

Poppop

Poppop was my father’s father. I was raised by Nana and Poppop from the age of 3 till about 13. I don’t really have any crazy dramatic stories growing up. He was just more of a dad to me than a grandfather. About 10 years before Poppop passed away we noticed some issues with his memory etc. He was eventually diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. He did fairly well for a while. He had such a predictable schedule that he just kinda carried on with it. Physically he was more fit than most people half his age. He continued to run the tractor and do projects around the house. As the disease progressed he became more attached to Nana and did less out on his own. She did fairly well caring for him until 2013 when her daughter had a stroke and was left paralyzed on one side. Having caregivers in and out of the house was just too much for him in his confused state and he became angry and violent. I was concerned for both of them. I mentioned finding assisted living for him. I couldn’t find anywhere nearby with an opening but I got on the computer and found a place in Sumter (about an hour drive). I was so impressed with this place and still am! They were clean and caring and took good care of him. My Aunt ended up in a nursing home as well and it became a routine to go visit them on Wednesday’s. Visiting Poppop was so hard on me! Leaving him there to begin with was devastating! I felt as though I was abandoning a child! They sat him down and gave him the news paper to read and basically we left. Like when you get a baby sitter and don’t want the kid to cry so you occupy them and sneak out. He was so far gone at that point that he had no idea when we were and were not there. He didn’t know who I was. My grandmother was the only person he recognized. He was so sweet to everyone (which was not necessarily always his personality)! He was grateful to me for bringing his wife to see him and would thank me and hug me but he didn’t know I was his granddaughter. There were days that I would walk in and see him and just completely lose it and have to go out to the car. I would say that’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever done in my life! You want to go visit because you don’t want them to feel abandoned or unloved but when you know 5 min after you leave that they don’t know you were ever there, then it makes you wonder if it’s worth the emotional torture! So Poppop was at this facility for about 3 years. That’s 3 years of emotionally scaring Wednesday’s! There are multiple bridges on the way to Sumter…….why I never jumped is beyond me! So Poppop started having issues with getting weak and they would send him out to the hospital. At some point they decided there was some issue with emptying his bladder so they inserted a catheter. Well someone with Alzheimer’s doesn’t necessarily adjust well to that and you can’t exactly explain it. After multiple times of ripping it out, he had some pretty serious infection. He was admitted to the hospital and the dr came in and told me that these infections would continue and basically it was time to consider hospice. I LOST it! Now people joke about someone being in their 90’s and ya can’t be surprised or sad when they pass. Well that’s a load of hogwash right there! Yes you can try to say they had a good long life etc but it doesn’t hurt any less to lose them! So we called in hospice and we got everything set up at home so he could come home. That was bittersweet. It was so sad knowing we were about to lose him but so great to know that he got to come back home. We had a lady who had helped us before come so she could care for him at night and I would stay with him during the day. He was going down hill quick and my birthday was approaching. I seriously thought he was going to pass on my birthday and I would think of that every year for the rest of my life but he didn’t! So then we get to the 11th and he seems really bad. The lady comes to relieve me for the night and I say there is no way I’m leaving! As bad as he was and with the famous 12th date approaching, I was staying parked right by that bed! (He actually passed on the 11th so we dodged bday and the 12th) Well there were several times that I thought it was going to be his last breath. Nana walked away for a min and I whispered in his ear (this was advice from a friend of mine), you know I’m going to take care of Nana right? He started mumbling something. I couldn’t make it out but he was nodding his head yes as he mumbled. Nana came back to the room and in no time he was gone. Oh Lord the pain! And yet you’re glad he isn’t suffering etc but that moment was all sadness for me I believe. So here we are at funeral time again. The funeral home called and said they were ready for us to view the body. I went with Nana. (I really wish they wouldn’t do that!) Then was the funeral. It was a graveside service but included that 21 gun salute. Nana debated if she should do it or not and I thought of course you should!! He earned that honor! I was almost mad that she considered not doing it. Probably because I had never seen it done. As if we weren’t all bad enough, I look down at my boys and see the tears rolling and then that 21 gun salute starts and they’re done for and so am I! Good Lord what was I thinking?? So again I don’t believe I have any regrets or “unfinished business” but I sure do miss the old man! I know it’s still upsetting for my boys and I hate it but ya know…..94 ain’t a bad run! He was a month from his 95th birthday and he lived a good life and he loved and was loved by many! That isn’t making it any easier to see through my glasses right now but maybe some day it will!

So again……I don’t know which one of you booger heads has me crying over stupid stuff but if I could console friends without being a basket case and listen to country music then that would be greatly appreciated!!