Sad September

This September has not necessarily been a pleasant one. There have, yes, been pleasant moments, but overall the bad has greatly outweighed the positive.
Now to be clear, I don’t mean that bad as in "it was just a crappy month", I mean bad as in "how many disasters can one family withstand"

September started out fine, then the week of the 12^th came around. My uncle (my aunts husband) was in a tractor accident. That struck us all in shock as he seemed a person least likely to be in such an accident. An air of confidence around machinery often wafted from him. He was always smiling (such a big grin!). I know everyone says of the dead, that they were so full of life, and that was even more so with him.

I did not know him well, so I will not lie and say I grieve for him. I do grieve for the loss of life, but I more grieve for my aunt. As a newlywed myself, I cannot imagine the emotions that were and are running through her. I wanted so badly to take away her pain, but this is a time where no one can do that.

That week, as we were all recovering from this shock, came the next - my Oma had a stroke. This time my grief and sadness was centered on many people, of course my Oma but also our family. My Aunt, who just lost her husband, my youngest aunt - who always seemed to need her mother the most, my cousin - who spent the most time with her, my mom - who was always the strong one...I always feel I am left to be the strong one, and how many times I wish for my mom to be able to help me with that load.

Bad things happen in threes, is what I was told, my mothers aunt, (my great aunt?) Had a fall in California, as well during that week. She, like my Oma was , is strong stock and is making a recovery.

My Oma has had Alzheimer's for a few years now, and though we have had many moments with her since then that were truly with her it often felt like we were only with her shell. I don’t know how many times she referred to me as my mother, or a friend from her childhood. Or refer to my mom as Bep, her sister.

The family rallied together to see her right after it happened. Staying by her bedside and giving her nurturing strokes, love, and kisses - as she had done to all of us throughout our lives. The role switch was not lost on me, and I felt it a perfect balance to be able to comfort someone who had given so much of that comfort to all of us. The second day she woke a bit - and got progressively better from there. She would look at each of us and widen her eyes and say "Hi Darling" and love you’s. It was astonishing to see someone who, had virtually no recollection of us before (that I recall) to suddenly know each and every one of her grandchildren, and even great grandchildren!

It seemed a miracle, and perhaps it was one. After that she went back down hill almost to the point she was at right after her stroke. It was a roller coaster ride and the doctor warned us to be prepared. I could not make it out for a week, though I had reports every night from my youngest aunt and mother (who were both diligently at her bed side). She had a day where she was very huggy and kissy, another were she didn’t react at all. And then this morning, after a week of waiting, she passed at 3 a.m. Mom says it was peaceful and that she was comfortable, well as much as one can be, I imagine.

The thing is, I expected it. We all did. At a certain point you know that your loves ones cannot last or will be taken from you. It sounds bad, but after her stroke I wished she would go quietly and quickly. It is not because I didn’t want my Oma. For I did. I wanted my Oma. But she had been mostly gone years ago. She wasn’t the same woman who would make fish faces at us when she wanted a kiss, or always have candies in her purse, or such interesting conversation that made you think "damn Oma is cool!" or even swearing at us in Dutch. No, I had lost her a while ago - and I had mourned her loss, long ago. So I wanted her to stop suffering. To me, I always thought that she knew she had Alzheimer's. Had she been blissfully unaware of her condition, I might have been OK. But I knew she had moments where she knew. And to live something you feared so much, as she did losing her memory, to being dependant....I just couldn’t stomach continuing that.

Now that she is gone, I realize that some hope has died with her. For no matter how strong, how logical we think we are...there is still hope. Hope that Oma, my Oma, would come back, that she would look at me with eyes full of knowledge and light, she would sigh in dutch, as she often did, and say something ridiculous that made me laugh. She would flirt with my husband and make us a cheese sandwich as she always did (the best!). I hoped she would come back, though I never voice this hope, for I knew how illogical it was, how it could and should not be able to happen...but I hoped regardless. Now that she is gone, that hope is gone too...and with that a small part of my childhood that belongs to her.

I am happy for her passing in a way I cannot feel guilty about. Whatever the after life holds. Whether it be heaven, reincarnation, ghosts, spirits, a second dimension (I refuse to accept nothing) - she is happy. She is now, as my mom would say, no longer trapped in her mortal body, she is who we all remember - that woman with the light and fire and so much sass.

I am happy that I had my moments with her, that no one can take away. Memories from the past and memories while at her bedside. Were we looked in each other’s eyes. I couldn’t help the tears forming in mine and I saw in her own. And I knew everything would be fine - for Oma was there. She comforted me, as I think she did all of us, that look told me she loved me, very much, that she was ready for the end of this stage, it told me half pieces of advise I don’t think I will fully know till I have to give that look, it told me things I don’t yet understand, and may never...it told me all I wish I could have had the chance to talk to her about before. Before.


But she knew I loved her, that we all did. She was enveloped in the love of her children, grandchildren, great grandchildren - her family and those who have become like family. What more could anyone wish for.



"Every goodbye is the birth of a memory." - Dutch Proberb



Ego v. Fact

You will find that sometimes life just doesn't go your way. Sometimes life sticks it's middle finger up at you and tells you to eff off, among other things. Last night felt like that kind of night. I was prepared (before  my big hissy fit) to write a blog about giving up dreams and what not - and then ended up sleeping on it. I wake up this morning to realize that, once again, I was glad I waited. 

My big recycled glass painting didn't sell. What happened was we had two small bids, then to up it, my friend added a bid hoping that the other person would add more. However, they didn't. So I was in big self pity mode because no one wanted to pay more then $25 for it. This, I equated, was my value. 

So I was down and out thinking that there is no point to dreaming, that I was stupid for believing I ever had an ounce of talent, and so on and so forth. Then I went to sleep after crying in my closet. Yes, i know. Childish.

I woke up, still thinking it sucked how it didn't sell for more, but realizing that #1. I didn't want to give up my dreams; and #2. the event wasnt about me, so suck it up buttercup!

The event did what it was supposed to and raised tons of money for Anita, so she could stop worrying about bills; and heal! It was a fun event, and I should have enjoyed that...however, I was stuck with my own ego. 

The painting didn't sell there - however there is a possibility of it selling elsewhere, of maybe doing a facebook auction, or even just selling it normally. 

My mom had said it best (though at the time I didn't want to hear it): that I am still getting better. I have a skill, one that should be worked on, but its a skill nonetheless, that I should be proud of.  it may not have been everyone's cup of tea, can I really expect that? No. 

There was more inspirational words, but right this morning I can't remember much beyond my embarrassing hissy fit that proceeded this. 

I have had my dreams dashed, this is not one of those times. However, my ego is still a bit sore - but I will survive it and get better so that one day my ego may be large enough to withstand such events and self induced pain. 

Lackluster Life

I've spent a lot of time this week trying to think of what to write on the blog. To be honest, my life has been less then spectacular this past week - so inspirational blogs have been less then forthcoming.

I've finally started to notice the daily dog walks paying off with the slight lessening of my gut. Weight hasn't dropped though, I am still the same - however I think I'm starting to develop muscle (probably from moving and still unpacking) so next comes the weight loss...right?

I've also noticed that I am really jealous. Not of other women, but of babies. I've always known that I wanted to be a momma, and to lots of little ones. Andrew and I have talked about having kids, and after last year's miscarriage, we decided that it's going to happen soon (next 5 years) but not just yet. We said "after the wedding" now it "after the honeymoon" and my mind is so torn between yes and no. We are young, only 23 and 22. We are not ready financially (but I know so many that make it being worse off then us). There's still so much I want to do before I have kids. Of course I realize that I can just as well do many of those things with kids... so it's kind of a void point. But then we have the yes's. We want one. We would be great parents. I may not be able to carry full term, so better start trying now. It takes a bit to get pregnant (statistically). I'm almost 24, which means it's the age I wanted to have a baby. We're not getting any younger - and I want the energy to enjoy my children. I'm super curious about what he/she would be like...

Yes I realize that the few points against are stronger then the points for...however nothing can get past the "I want" which is turning into a feeling resembling need.

Everyone has opinions on when someone should get pregnant. Many relatives tell me I'm too young. However, 23/24 is a respectable age to have a child. I am married, we both have a steady income and I would get maternity leave. I've also been told we should wait to buy a house. Do you know how hard it is to buy a house? It's hard. The only way to buy a house these days is that: someone has an incredibly high income (ie: working on the rigs, high up in a labour trade, work multiple jobs, etc), your have help (parents, family), or you win the lottery. I am sure there are people who have managed to save enough - but really, how often do you find young people, starting out, making under $18 an hour, able to save enough after their bills to get the 10% needed for a down payment on a mortgage? Yeah.. not often. Yeah, I know I'm a bit pessimistic.

So in conclusion, I have been in a crappy whiny mood.

On top of everything Laine has scratched the walls. Jumping up and digging his claws in to the drywall. I thought the move would stop that. Obviously not. So my solution is to put things in front of it, when I can't well that's where the tricks start. Clean with bleach (apparently cats have sensors on their feet and those leave a scent that says to scratch again), then put tin foil over it (cats apparently don't like the feeling), and see if it works to keep him away. If that doesn't work then it's to buy a spray that is sort of like when they scent by rubbing against things. Apparently cats don't want to scratch where they scent.. so that's the next one. I['m hoping there are more suggestions, but if not our last possible step is to declaw him. I am really against it, but judging by how badly he took the change when we moved - I don't think he could handle new owners, let alone being without his sister. I don't think I would handle it well either to be honest.

So, have any suggestions?