On Men

My father died when I was 8, so I grew up without a male figure in my life. Couple that with not having brothers, and I didn't understand a lot about the male species until I was much older. They always fascinated me, the male brand, and I wanted to learn all about them. I did. Through my friend's brothers, fathers, then my male friends, my brother-in-laws, and eventually my Al. They all had a hand in shaping what I learned about men.

One of the biggest things I learned about men is that when they fall in love, really fall in love, they do not do well if that woman leaves them.

I have watched men get divorced and get stuck in their lives because they still love that one woman. They may go on, they may succeed, but most of the time, I have watched them stagnate, settle. For those closest to me, I urge them to take another step, to see another, to move, to change, to get out of their comfort zone and simply date.

Men who are widowed, who have lost their wife to death, do move on. It may take them a while, but most of them do find another to spend their life with. They are different from the divorced man.

Also, most men do not like change. So, I have met those men who are not in good relationships, who do not feel loved or even cared about, but they will not leave the situation on their own. They would rather sit alone in a cave than move to a room. Most men are just like that. Just try to get them to move the furniture let alone their body from the cave.

Men like to wear their favorite shirt, sit on their favorite chair, and watch their favorite program. Women need to wear many shirts, sit on the sofa, chair, anywhere; and multi-task while watching tv. Then, when man and woman mate, woman will make the man wear more than his favorite shirt, will make them go shopping and to the movies and walk in the park or look at books at Barnes and Noble, and together they watch their favorite program sitting side by side on the sofa -- sometimes.

Take that scenario from the man through divorce and he falls back to his favorite shirt, his favorite chair, and his favorite program. I've seen it time and time again.

Men, ya gotta love 'em.....they are different from the woman brand, but ya gotta love 'em.....

Have a great weekend. Until then...

The Talk in Ceramics

Thursday is my day to paint ceramic pieces. I am working on a teapot, and hopefully, by the time I finish it, I will know how to post pictures here from my phone. I am not going to hold my breath on that, though.

We are just a bunch of ladies (and a couple of men) who sit around and talk while we clean and/or paint our pieces. After we catch up with what everyone has been doing for the week, we talk about topics. Sometimes it weather or politics; today it was about death and dying. The majority of us are single not by choice, a few are married, but we have all felt the effects of having someone we love leave this earth, leaving us behind to figure out what to do next.

The topic started when one lady said that her niece's husband (in his 50s) died from a heart attack at the beginning of the new year. It was sudden and completely a surprise. I asked how her niece was doing, and she shrugged her shoulders and said, not too good. No, I guess she wouldn't be.

It is one thing to have someone die who has been sick for a long time and you watch them suffer or become weak. It is another thing to have someone die who has lived a very long life -- which is far into the 90s and 100s -- and the life has been good. And then there is the sudden, surprise death. How in the world do you cope with that surprise? I don't think you do, or can. I think it takes a long time to adjust, to understand that one day a person is here, and the next day, the person is not.

It's hard enough to put pieces back together when you know that a person is going to die, and that takes a long time.

Believe it, it does take a long time. It will be 6 years for me this April and it seems like yesterday and it seems like eternity. It took me a long time to just stop wandering around, walking the halls, wondering how I was going to go on. And I have. Slowly, step by step.

One woman in ceramics lost her husband to death a year and so ago. In the beginning, she said, she didn't even think about it, she just got up, sold everything she had and moved here. She was ready to start a new life. I asked her if she loved him, and there was no hesitation, Yes, Yes, Yes. But, she said because she was in the health field and she watched her husband succumb to diabetes and all the related medical issues, she understood and could close that chapter. Today, she is back pedaling, She is fighting her own, silent agony of missing the life they built together and the laughter they shared. She has moved on, to another town, another state, another house, but that solves nothing. Grief and coping with that grief has to be given its stage. Sometimes, I guess, it takes center stage from the start and sometimes it enters late, but it will show up.

I knew another lady who lost her son to suicide. That is another topic all together. It has been many, many years since her son took his life, and in that one act, she also took her life; not physically, but in every other way. She was an RN, and she never went back to work; she was married and even though she remains married, her husband and daughter have moved West; she does not talk to anyone, will not allow anyone to talk to her; and she stays in the house, day in, day out.

I could never imagine losing someone to suicide, that they were that hurt that they could not have reached out to want to continue to live.

I could never imagine the anger and grief from losing a person to murder. That is unfathomable to me. It just should never happen.

I could never imagine losing a child, one that you carried in your womb and birthed and cared for for as long as that child lived.

A long, long time ago I dated someone who married his high school sweetheart, and they had a child together, and the child became sick and died. And the marriage ended. Not because they did not love each other but because the grief was too much. I heard through the years that he did remarry his first love, but I also heard it did not work out the second time. Grief does not go away. Ever.

One thing I know today is that we are all broken. I never knew that before but I know it now. We walk around with a broken heart, whether from death, divorce, lost dreams. And yet, we go on, or most of us go on, a little changed, a lot changed, but we go on. And in the end, I guess that is what life is all about. Putting that first step forward, inch by inch moving forward.

Until tomorrow.... have a great day

A Nothing Day

Really, did not do anything today. Talked on the phone, waited for my masseuse to come over (she comes twice a month), and I really needed it because my body is just tight. She had her days mixed up, so she will be here next Wednesday. I guess it is going to be the heating pad for me to loosen up this body.

And it's been a rainy day. Seems to me that when it rains, I seem to hunker down. I am one who is definitely affected by the weather, always have been. But, here in Florida, I am out and about more in the rain when the sun shines than when it is gloomy, which is probably two days a year. Not bad. I remember in Illinois before I left, the last winter it was so bad that I did not leave the house for three weeks because of the snow and cold. I could not open the front nor the back doors because of the snow, and the only way out was through the garage because I had fantastic neighbors who snow-blowed my drive way. I became so house-bound, that I finally had to get out so I got in my car in the garage, road around town to have a change of scenery, then went back to the garage and into the house. That one fateful day was my turning point.

Sent a couple of my shorts to my editor. My goal is to have all shorts ready to self-publish by the end of April. I am so excited. I have really done it. I finished by first book. And even though it is not a novel, it will have as many words as a novel -- 40,000 words.

I am thinking of copying one of them to this blog for you to read.

I am also thinking of taking one of these shorts that I have written and expand the story line into a series of books. If I can write 40,000 words of short stories, I can write a novel. Soon, I will see.

Have a good day.

The Picture Saga continues

The instructor said all I had to do was go home, pull up photos on google and all my photos would be there. NOT! And so I continue. I'll bet you one thing. Once I get this to work, I bet I'll never forget it. The iphone was so easy to get my photos from. All I had to do was plug in my phone to the pc, and a prompt opened asking what I wanted. So far, I have been given instructions from the phone and that didn't work, and then it was explained, no that wouldn't work. Now, I have gone to a class, and have all the pictures in one spot on my phone, but I still can't get the pictures to come up on my pc. I guess there will be more phone calls, more driving to the nearest Best Buy, more instructions...

On another note, I had my writer's meeting today. There were 20 aspiring authors reading their work. Actually, a few were better than good.

Most of us have had to live a life outside of what we really wanted to do -- write -- to pay bills and put food on the table. We are the lucky ones, we have lived long enough and have been able to retire from the daily grind of making a living to pursue dreams of long ago. I am happy to be among that group. I feel that I have made it!

It may be true that I worked as a journalist and editor, but that was not my creative writing, of making stories from people I met for maybe a minute, of making stories from conversations I heard, or of making stories from "feelings" I received from situations and events. Coupled with my interview powers and editorial marks, I can now tell the stories I have collected in the recesses of my mind.

What am I working on? I am starting with a collection of short stories. Most are light, one or two fantasy, and a few dark and deep. And I am nearing the end. I should have all the stories written, edited, sent to an editor for a second set of eyes, and rewritten as necessary by the end of April. Then, on to self-publishing. I do not know much about that, but I will be learning, and I will pass the information along as I learn. I do know that many people in my writing group have published, and most people are willing to show me the ropes. I am excited. This is what this chapter of my life is all about.

And it is beginning to appear that learning how to put the photos from my phone to the pc is another part of Chapter 14. I am really hoping that it is only a paragraph of my chapter.

Until tomorrow....have a great day.

The Picture Saga continues

Went to the Samsung phone class today. Learned a little, hopefully, a lot about the photos. Initially, what the sales person told me to do last week over the phone to get the pictures off the phone did not work. Today, he showed me in easy steps how to have the photos on my phone all in one place, then, I am to go to my pc and see if it works. They should automatically be on my computer because they are all in one place on my phone. Go figure! I will -- later. Right now, I am tired from all this technology. There is always something to learn, and then, there is something else or it changes as soon as I get the hang of that lesson.

I remember my first phone -- a bag phone. It was simple. I had the phone in the car, plugged it into the cigarette lighter, and then called everyone I could think of because I thought it was cool.

 

 My first phone:  A "Motorola Power PAK Bag Phone" by Trent021-Own Work.

Then, phones got larger and you had this honker by your ear. I believe that was the first cell (wireless) phone. Then, they got smaller. They flipped open, they slid in the pocket, they were convenient for making and receiving calls.

Then, they started getting smart. Smarter than me. And now, phones are mini computers. As the instructor in the class said, your phone can do anything your computer can do. Holy Toledo! With an approximate size of 6x3 inches, I can call, receive calls, email, use facebook, store tons of information as well as pictures, look up information, have a map, play games, calculator, watch tv and movies, download and listen to my favorite tunes ... the list is limitless. How does it do all that!

My mind is still boggled with how the computer can obtain all the information with a stroke of the finger. Before, if I wanted information, I had to go to the library, go to the file box and look up the Dewey code and then search for the book among the piles. Only if you love the feel of books (and I do) do you have to handle the good ole black and white.

So, my picture saga may be on the mend. We'll see for tomorrow. Until then, have a great day...

Celine Dion

Today, Celine Dion buries her husband; tomorrow, she buries her brother. My heart feels her pain as she goes through the motions and emotions of today, tomorrow and the days that follow. Her journey is the same as mine, as the same as anyone who has felt a great loss, whether through death or divorce. Somewhere, somehow we survivors forge ahead to make a new life, like my ancestors did when they moved from Europe to the New World, like so many before me, and now, what I am attempting to do. To make a new life, a Chapter 14 in my book of life.

Somewhere along the line of healing it dawned on me that we are all broken. We walk the sidewalks, we laugh, we play, we work, we talk to others, we sit quietly to pray or meditate, we live a life; and yet, we are broken. Our hearts have been broken through loss -- loss of a missed opportunity, a failed loved, chances never given, talent never appreciated, divorce from one who is still loved, death. Then, we go on.

There are people I have met in life who do not go on, they are stuck in that scene. They keep reading the same script over and over, not wanting to let go of what was, not understanding that what was will always be, because that scene, that person, that idea is what we are. We can not change how we have developed our life, how we have lived our chapters. We carry everything with us, and we learn to let go of the negative, to put it in the back of a filing drawer; and we learn to cherish the good, to keep it in the front drawer where we can pull it out when we need a smile, a chuckle, a warm feeling.

Celine Dion will go back on stage in Las Vegas in February. Her heart may fill the pain, but the face will be brave, and with patience she will persevere. She will not be the same person she was before today, but she will continue. She has her work, and she will build from that.

That is what I am doing with my goals. I found in Chapter 13 that I needed to work, and that is my intentions in Chapter 14. Only now, I do not get paid for the work I do, it is for the love of work -- the writing, the researching, the painting, the glass creations. I am who I always was, and really, really, I love the life I am making. I am doing exactly what I want to do. Yes, I am alone, and some days I feel the aloneness, but most days I am too busy to feel it because I am working towards fulfilling my goals -- the crafts, the writing, the travels.

And as soon as I learn how to transfer the pictures from my phone to the pc, I will be able to share those parts of my life. The class is set for Monday, but the Samsung guy told me what to try to get it to work.

If I can get the pictures to work, I will be posting about Busch Gardens tomorrow; otherwise, Monday.

Until then, have a great day....

The Last Man Standing

Thinking about my ancestors, I could not even imagine the aloneness they felt when the two brothers ventured to a land that was not even given a name --it was simply a new world.

That new world is what I am experiencing. My immediate family is gone. I am the last man standing from the family I grew up with, who I fought with, and loved, and cried with, and laughed with, and dreamt dreams with. They are all gone.

My mother would always talk about her siblings, and she would dream of them when they left this earth. She, too, was the last man standing from the family she grew up with. I never understood why there was so much emphasis on her dreams as she relived her younger life with her sisters and brother. I never understood why she continuously would talk about them, telling their stories, more than she did than about the husbands she loved or the children she bore.

And there was a guy at work who always talked about his parents and brother who left this earth way too early. He would always talk about how much he missed them, never letting anyone forget that his parents and brother had existed in this world. I never understood why his childhood family was his daily reminder, even though he had a wife he loved and children to make memories with.

I just did not understand, and now I do.

I understand the difference between aloneness and loneliness. I do not feel lonely in this world, but I have a huge void. I can understand what it would be like to get off a ship in a foreign country, not knowing anyone, now knowing a language, not knowing where to go or how to get there. I do not believe that my ancestors were lonely or else they would not have gone on the adventure. But, I am sure they felt alone in this brave, new world. They were one in a world of many.

My mother never spoke of being lonely, of having a yearning to be among people, but she had the void, she felt the aloneness on being one, of being the last man standing.

The guy at work was not lonely, there is little doubt in that; but he always talked about being alone, without family, even though he made his own family.

Now I understand that when you are the last man standing, you are the last man. When it is my turn to leave, that one unit of family is gone forever, and the next generation takes over. With that thought, I also understand the responsibility I have to accept my aloneness to carry on with a brave heart and a brave face, like the people before me. We are all brave people. In each family unit there will always be a last man standing, and the void will become real for that last person.

I moved here so I would not be lonely, and I am not. So far in my life, I have never felt lonely, and I hope I never do. I never felt alone before now because everyone was around, and now I realize it's not what you make or do in this world, it's about the love and after that, how to succeed as the last man standing. That's my reality, and I will do everything in my power to succeed. I have my goals.

And my immediate goal is to learn how to download my phone's pictures on the pc. There is a class I am going to sign up for. Stay tuned on that one.

Have a great day. Until tomorrow....

DAR

I am proud that a part of my family was instrumental in the formation of this country. My father's ancestors came to America in 1710. They arrived in Philadelphia and made their way to North Carolina to claim land and build a homestead. When I think of just this one pursuit, I realize that I come from sturdy blood and we are not afraid to take chances.

We left Europe (either Switzerland or Germany) for a reason I am yet to find out, and came to a land that was completely foreign to what my ancestors knew. And they fought against the British when the time came, and they won, and built a mill, and they believed in education and church, and in one generation, when the patriarch died, the family split and headed west. The split was due to greed, and the story continued into Tennessee before settling in Illinois.

My older sister and I started the genealogy search in the 1980s when we visited the Library of Congress, and we followed it for a bit, then she became too busy and I became too busy and all was put on the back burner until she retired when she finished the lineage. We saw life differently -- she was interested in the lineage, I am interested in the stories. Now it is my turn to be retired, and I will continue and find out the whys and hows.

And I am going to start another line, my father's maternal side. In other words, I want to follow my paternal grandmother's father and mother. I think there are good stories there as well as my father's paternal side where the lineage is complete. The stories are good, and since I like to write, I am pretty sure I will be attempting a couple of historical fiction pieces.

At this moment, though, I need to start the network of fellow patriots -- people who have ancestors who also fought to win our independence from the Mother Country.

Today's presentation included a woman who spoke of historical based books, specifically one about George Washington's spies who were instrumental in knowing when the British would land and where so he would know where and when to attack. No one knew about the spies until years later, and even today, the historians know that there was one woman who was a spy, but no one knows her name. Hopefully, one day there will be someone interested in their ancestral line, and maybe there will be a letter, a note indicating who this woman was. Without these spies, the presenter said, the war might have gone another way and today we would all have a British accent!

I am still struggling with transferring the pictures from my smartphone to the pc. I will learn this. I knew how to do it from the iphone, it's just the android that I am trying to figure out.

Until tomorrow....have a great day

White Furniture

I have always seen the beautiful pictures in magazines of white walls, white furniture with pops of bold colors as accents. I thought I could do it when I decorated this house, and I started looking at the whites, then I realized that my eye was more drawn to the creamy white instead of the stark white, even though I envied the pictures in the magazine. I bought a cream colored leather sofa, and I thought I would do the one chair I needed in stark white. I found the prettiest white, white chair and ottoman with gold stars and I bought it. It was beautiful (notice WAS). When anyone walked into the house, they commented on the chair. An eye grabber, like the white in the magazines. I felt, for a brief moment in time, I was going to have a bit of the white room I dreamt of.

Then, I started looking at stark white carpet for the flooring that needed to be replaced. Beautiful lush, plush white on white carpet. Shoot, it was just me now, so I thought why not. That is until I saw the price of the lush plush, and thought I either need to keep looking or save for it, that is, save for about 5 years to afford it! The carpet was put on hold. I would have to live with the painted carpet for the time being.

Then, I thought, well, I could put the white lush, plush in my bedroom. I would only have to save about 1-2 years for that. Thank goodness I needed to save for the lush plush.

I have had my beautiful white white chair now for about a year, and what I have found is it is now an ugly dirty white chair, and uglier dirtier white ottoman. I have towels (white) draped across the seat of the chair and the top of the ottoman. So much for white on white. I guess there is a reason why we see the pictures of white on white in magazines instead of in people's living rooms.

Can you imagine what white white carpet would look like after a year? Scrap that idea.

But, the cream leather sofa is a winner. Maybe because it is leather. The chair was fabric. When I replace the chair, I have decided to go with brown, maybe brown leather, maybe a brown leather recliner. Haven't decided anything yet. But the white chair will be replaced. And my pretty white white chair will be cleaned, I will buy a cover for it, and then move it to the enclosed lanai as an occasional chair. Probably what it should have been to begin with.

If I knew how to download the pictures from my Android, I could show you the chair. I will keep trying to learn. I watched a you tube video yesterday, but that didn't help. Eventually, I will learn then I can show you my world as well as writing about it.

Have a great day. Tomorrow I go to my first DAR (Daughters of the American Revolution) meeting in Florida. Should be interesting.

Pink Walls

First, I want to say we went to Busch Gardens in Tampa over the weekend, and as soon as I learn how to transfer the pictures from my Android to my PC, I want to share that with you. OMG -- a wonderful Park, and the boys said it was even better than Disney and Universal. Now, that's saying a lot.

So, I continue forward. The next chapter of my life is beginning...with pink walls. No, that can't be. My next chapter will begin with basically beige walls.

I arrived in Florida about three weeks before my furniture (boxes) arrived, so I thought I would hire a painter, have the walls painted, buy the big pieces of furniture, and be ready for life to begin. NOT! True, my bed was delivered, and I bought two chairs on line, and folding tables from Walmart. That's what I started with. And a list of painters. Oh, believe me, it's not that easy to hire a painter. Mind you, I came from a town where I had grown up, knew many people, and knew people who knew people. Al was an old steel structure roofer, so he knew people. In other words, I had my list of contacts and knew who to call for what. Here, I knew no one. There were no people to call to ask about who and where do I go. I didn't even know where the hardware store was. And I took my list, my phone, and set about calling and scheduling appointments.

I know what a paint job is going for, and I know when something is cheap and expensive. But, I wasn't prepared for a con job. I received many bids, but the best one was from a "reputable" place where the man started with $5000 for the large living room and small galley kitchen. Then, the longer we talked it went to $4000, then when I told him about Al, it went to $3000, and then when I told him the other projects that were on my list, it went lower. And the lower it got, the more I did not want him. So, I learned everything is negotiable here. A lot. Then there was the man who came, gave me a quote, and then called me every 15 minutes to ask if I had made up my mind. After the 10th call, I told him I had made up my mind and someone else won out. (I was far from finding the right painter). Eventually, though, I did find a painter who I thought I could trust and who gave me a reasonable price --

And I found out that reasonable price has nothing to do with trusting that a job would be completed.

My walls did transform to beige, and the job (on the whole) wasn't that bad. Not perfection, but not bad. It's the other....the paint on the carpet, not showing up to clean up the mess, and his phone that stopped working that turned out bad. So, I cleaned up the mess, licked my wounds, and went on. And I wondered what in the world had I done. I didn't know anyone, was outside of my comfort zone, and I did not see a light at the end of the tunnel. But, I knew I waited enough time to make the move (you should never make a major change within a year of a major crises, the experts warned). My sisters died in 2009, Al died in 2010, and my mother died in 2011, and now the year was 2014. I really needed to move forward, and I was, whether if I was skeptical or not. I moved forward.

For three months I simply readied my house, had walls painted, some floors replaced, bought the furniture, unpacked many boxes and found some pieces missing, some broken, and many in one piece. I was beginning to put together the house. And I ventured out, found the hardware store, the grocery store, the basic of necessities.

I met with my friends who lived in Florida upon occasion, and I traveled to IKEA in Tampa to buy more items for the house. I felt like I was trying to adapt, even though I still wondered what I had done with my life, wondered if I should simply go home, and wait....wait for what, to die. No. I want to fulfill my dreams, my goals. And so I joined the ceramic club, and I met a lady who has gone with me to Barcelona, and now I am meeting more women who want to do things.

Today, I do not think about going back to my old life, but I still have days when I wonder what I am doing. And then I think of my goals, and know that most days I work toward fulfilling those goals. And the other days, I simply piddle. I am a piddler, and love to piddle, but I do not allow myself to have many of these days; otherwise, I would piddle my time away.

Have a great day. Talk with you tomorrow.

Diversion

At Christmastime, I spent it with my niece and her family in S. Carolina. We went to midnight mass (at 10 p.m.) and it was a bit dark outside, a bit rainy, a bit of a bad night. So. We were walking towards the church when everyone else was on the sidewalk, I opted to walk in the parking lot aiming to go up the ramp walkway. Well, I did not make it. I tripped and fell. I think I was more embarrassed than anything, and needed to just settle my nerves a bit, but two men grabbed each side of me and lifted me straight up while my niece was telling them to be careful, I had a bad hip. I could stand, I could walk, sore, but I could stand and walk. I was good.

That night we cleaned my scraped knee, put hydrocorticone on it, and I went to bed. The next day it was swollen, so we started with the ice  bags and elevated my leg. I could walk, so I thought I was good to go. And I was and am.

I drove home to Florida, and continue my routine of ibuprofen, ice, and elevation. The swelling is not going down, and when I lay down, there feels like little bugs are crawling around that area in my leg. Ewww!!! But, I can walk and stand. Finally, after three weeks, I give in and go to the doctor today, actually the Physician Assistant. I have cellulitis from falling on the cement. She ordered antibiotics, and I should continue with my regular routine of ibuprofen, ice, and elevation. Next Wednesday I will go for an ultrasound to rule out any blood clots. Who woulda known???

That's one thing I am blessed with -- I am in good health, except for stupid mistakes. And arthritis, but osteo doesn't really count because most people have some form of it. So, I am good to go. I am lucky. Also, because I do not have any pressing ailments, I will defer a doctor's appointment until it is really necessary. I do go for my yearly, but other than that, I will doctor myself until I know I really need the doc. Then, I go. And medicine, don't get me started on that. Again, I am lucky. I take so little medicine that the drug companies would be out of business if they had to depend on me. And I hope it remains like that. My mom took little, my older sister took little; I think it runs in the family. But I hear some friends, I hear how their medicine has doubled in the past year. I hear about the medicine bills into the thousands for a month. And I wonder what will happen in five years, in ten years. Where is the cap, the ceiling for these people?

This piece is a bit out of order, but it definitely is part of Chapter 14 -- the first doctoring without anyone around. Makes me think that I just might need a plan if something serious was to occur. As Scarlett said, "I'll think about that tomorrow."

About tomorrow -- my niece and her family are coming from S. Carolina and we are going to Busch Gardens in Tampa, so I doubt if I will be around to write tomorrow. But I will be back and I will start Chapter 14.

Have a great day.

Goals

I have always been a goal-orientated person. Even when I was young, Then, I had two vague goals -- to go to college and to go to Europe. I have done both, and both more than once. I am finished with degrees but as time goes on, I do think I will take some courses -- for fun. I have been thinking about an astronomy course. Look toward the skies. I wonder what is out there? Since I am so close to NASA, I need to take a drive to the East Coast and look around. I know it is nothing like what I am interested in, but I still think I should go. What I need to do is to find a great observatory and watch the stars. I do have a telescope (Al gave it to me for Christmas one year), and I need to learn all the components to get the most out of it.

But for now. I want to create craft projects, write, and travel. That was my purpose to move into an active adult community -- to find liked-mind people. I have found those people.

Craft Projects --
As I have mentioned before, the first club I joined was ceramics. I have been in the club for a little over a year, and have painted a number of pieces. And I have learned it is way more expensive than when I painted ceramics when I was young. Just to do it, I don't think it is worth it; but, if the pieces are going to be different, I think I will continue in this for a while longer. Right now, I am honing my painting techniques, but I really want to do the hand building. After I learn that and do it for awhile, I will decide whether to keep ceramics in my life.

When I arrived in Florida, I came with a few small furniture pieces, namely tables, so I decided to paint the tables white (I like white). So, I learned all I could about chalk paint and painted until the pieces were complete. And I have gathered small pieces to do other projects with wood, like applying napkin designs to wood or wicker, but I have not tried this yet. And I want to make a broken china tabletop for my guest bedroom.

The final craft that I want to master is stain glass. Actually, I like fused glass better, but I had to learn stain glass before I could take the fused glass class. I have made a few stain glass pieces and will make a few more, and I have taken the fused glass class and have made one piece. The stain glass technique intimidates me. It is so foreign to what I am familiar with; I get nervous with all the small pieces that have to be cut, foiled and soldered. But fused glass -- oh, I am going to like this craft.

Writing --
I started a blog Miswords on word press, and although I do not blog here often, I do think about the phrases and need to return to that blog as well as be consistent with this blog. Miswords  is a play on words, especially idioms and worn-out phrases like "son of a gun" or "a dime a dozen". And there is this blog, my chapter 14, that I will write on until this chapter of my life is over. I have no idea how it will end, but I do know that looking back on my life. it has been divided into chapters, like a book that I am writing.This chapter is all about moving on, growing, fulfilling every dream I have ever wanted to do, and reaching goals.

One of my goals and dreams was to write a book, but a novel has always seemed like a huge undertaking. I am a trained journalist, I can interview and write short pieces but 40,000+ words in one setting seemed daunting to me. So, I decided that I would write a collection of short stories. I started that in Illinois and was mostly complete until I went to a writer's conference at Ball State in Indiana and the person I talked with said my short stories were good but they needed to have a common thread. I went back home, looked at my stories and some of them had "mother" as a common thread, so I decided I would salvage those stories and continue writing. I am proud to say that today, even with the move, I have one story to write and my editor has the beginning of the shorts. I am on my way....

From one of the stories (the one I am going to write) will be the formation of a series of books.

Another idea that is rolling around in my head is to write historical pieces. My sister and I started genealogy in the 80s at the Library of Congress, and since she was older than me, she did finish one line. And I am going to work on the next line. What stories there are!

Travel --
I arrived in Florida in September 2014, so 2014 does not count as far as traveling is concerned unless if I wanted to count driving to Florida a number of time. But, I have been blessed to travel in 2015 -- to Hilton Head, SC; Illinois (to finish business); Montana and Yellowstone National Park (I would recommend this trip to any and every one); a 4-night Bahamas cruise; a 17-day trip to Barcelona and cruise to Malaga, Spain; Madeira, Portugal; Gibraltar,UK; and the transatlantic cruise to Tampa; then to South Carolina for Christmas.

These three goals are what I will be writing about as time goes on, as well as changing, growing, and moving on after so much loss. And I will write about loss because on some days that loss still consumes me, but days are getting better.  I want everyone to know that we can all go on, we can all move on, even if it one step at a time. And we must. Life is for the living is my motto, and I am sticking to that!

Take care, and tomorrow Chapter 14 starts.

Finding out what I bought

The next day, I got up, dressed and spent my day between my car and the storage unit. I had boxes, markers, and tape. I was ready. And what was I going to take with me for the next trip to Florida. This time I was going to walk through the house and sign the papers. What would it look like? According to the pictures, it didn't look too bad. The realtor said I would like it (based on my previous picks), and I was hopeful.

So, I loaded the car with what I thought I would need before the furniture and boxes arrived, and left a mess in the storage units. I had approximately 3 weeks before the movers would come to load up the storage units to move my belongings to Florida. My plan was to go to Florida, sign the papers, order a bed, come back to Illinois and finish packing the littered "stuff" in the unit. I gave myself one week to drive to Florida, do what I needed to do, then come back to pack and meet with the movers.

And off I went.

Two days later, one day before the signing, I walked into the house I was going to buy. I didn't know if I wanted to laugh or cry. Everything was pink. PINK!!! The walls, the carpet, everything. And the kitchen had old wallpaper that was beginning to unravel and it was small pink flowers. OMG. What had I done, what have I gotten myself into? I wanted to run home, to my comfortable home in Illinois where I knew where everything was and where I knew everyone. What Have I Done??? I felt so completely alone. I had just sold, given away, or boxed up my entire life. And here I was in a foreign state, with only knowing two people. I remember just walking through this new house of mine and thinking I Have Just Made a Huge Mistake. I can't believe I sold my house in Illinois, a house where Al and I laughed and cried together, where we danced in each other's arms on the kitchen floor, and where we made the house our home. You stupid, stupid girl. What have you done.

After going through that emotion, I pulled myself together. It had been four years since Al left this earth, and there at our home, I found myself totally lost. I would ramble through the halls and rooms, and not going anywhere just stand there. I had to move on. I had to, and if this is what it took, I would do it. Or else I would die. And I am not ready to do that. There, in our home in Illinois, Al had not died yet. He lived with the furniture he sat in. I could hear him walk down the hall, and when the Bears or one of our favorite programs was going to be aired, I would call for him to watch tv with me. I knew I had to move on. I had to let go. And I also knew that is what he wanted me to do. In fact, he would have wondered why I hadn't done it before.

So, with a sour stomach and pink on the walls, I signed the papers to this new house of mine. I would make it work.

I emptied what I brought in the car, bought a bed to be delivered when I returned, and left Florida for Illinois. I had a lot of packing to do, a lot of people to see, a lot of loose ends to finish up in Illinois. I needed time to wrap my head around what I had done and what I was going to do. I had to think about what I was going to do with this next chapter in my life. What would it bring?

Tomorrow -- my plans. Have a great night.

Packing

I had approximately one month to pack an entire house. Even clearing out my house to show it did not put a dent into my accumulations. And I did not think I had much! Ha!!

My niece gave me a $100 gift card for Christmas from Lowe's -- I bought boxes and tape and started in. One room at a time, and one room was entirely empty to start so I figured I could put the boxes in that room as I packed.

In between time, I had to find a mover. People offered to move me with uhaul, but I had no idea how big of a truck, and by the time I paid their way to Florida and back, I was not really ahead. And I looked into Pods, but found out that the signature company did not deliver where I was moving to. I called different moving companies, and they were too expensive. I was beside myself. I continued to sell or give away the large pieces of furniture so I would not have to move them. I figured I would go with the basic necessities to get started. And I packed. And another niece helped me pack.

In between time, I had to tell doctors, banks, utilities, anyone I could think of that I needed to tell that I was moving. There would be no one on this side to handle anything after I was gone. I had to think of everyone and every thing that was involved with my daily living. I made lists on lists.

And I packed, and my niece helped when she could. Where was I going to stay until I knew how I was going to get my "stuff" to Florida? Lifelong friends offered that I could stay with them until I knew. But I am not one to impose, then again I did not have a choice. I took them up on the offer.

In between time, inspectors came to make the house ready for closing.

In between time, a lifetime of friends wanted to say good-bye with lunches and dinners.

And I packed and numbered the boxes and figured there were too many boxes for the room. And what was I going to do with the boxes if I couldn't find a mover. I rented a storage unit. And we packed.

Finally, someone knew someone who was also moving to Florida and they gave me the number of a reasonable mover. I called and made the arrangements. They would pick the "stuff" up at the storage unit in September, three weeks after I closed on my house in Florida. I told my friends, and they said no problem, whatever you need. Thank God for those friends. I had no idea what to do.

And I packed.

In between time, my broker in Florida needed to have the signed necessary paper work for the Florida house. There were many trips to Staples to copy and fax pages, and many phone calls.

Time slipped away, and I packed, and now I was giving away anything I remotely thought I would not need. I gave to charity, I gave to people, I gave to anyone and everyone who wanted and needed anything. And I continued to pack.

A few days before closing, the new owners wanted to move their "stuff" that was in a Pod to my driveway. No problem.

I had not even touched the garage. By now I had over 150 boxes and two storage units.George, my lawn man came with his truck and moved my small pieces of furniture to the storage unit, and he filled his truck with more boxes. Thank you, George, once again you were such a big help.

Most everything was getting finished, barely, and it was down to the last day. There was no way I could finish, I was running out of boxes, and I had to clean the house before the closing. I was panicking. I called the friends I was going to stay with. I still had clothes in the closets, and I was still packing. They came over and starting filling up my car with what I needed to take with me. Once my car was filled to capacity, they started filling up their car. The rest, we simply pitched. I have no idea what really was pitched. No idea whatsoever. Which showed me that most of the "stuff" in my life was never going to be missed. I had already put my treasures in my car a long time ago so I would not lose what I held close to my heart. After my car was filled, they started filling up their SUV. I thought I was going to hyperventilate. Breathe, Mary, breathe.

I had approximately one hour to clean the house, shower, change clothes, and drive across town to the closing. My friends left with their full car, and an hour after the closing, I was to meet them at the storage unit where we would simply put the stuff in, not boxed.

I cleaned the house and went to take a shower. I had not even thought of cleaning out the master bathroom. I looked at the necessities, took a shower, and simply threw everything into a bag and pitched it. There were some nice things, but, too bad. I had no time. And I did not keep any clean clothes nor a decent pair of shoes. And I didn't keep my hair dryer to dry my hair. I had to get out of the house. I had to drive across town. I was going to be late, and I called them. 10 minutes, at most.

So there I was, flying into the closing, hair wet, clean body, dirty clothes, and awful, smelly shoes. I do have a sense of  humor, and we laughed, and I signed the papers, and we exchanged keys, And I left to meet my friends at the storage units.

We simply put everything in the storage unit and tomorrow I would come and decide what was to go with me when I closed on my house in a few days. The day was done, I was hungry and tired, and frazzled. We went to get something to eat, and I went to their house; my room was ready. I slept.

Tomorrow, my transition continues. Have a great day!

A Diversion from the Move

Went to Slipaway in St. Pete today with some ladies I met at the Ceramics Club. Slipaway is where creators meet to work on creative projects, especially ceramics. It is also expanding to hand building ceramics, fused and stained glass and fabric art pieces. The owners also pour molds for the ceramic greenware and sell various paints. I went for the paints and decals for pieces I am working on.

The Ceramic Club is the first club I joined after getting a bed and a chair at my new house. I wanted to meet new people, and once I walked into the room I found the person sitting across from me only lived a few houses from the one I bought in Florida. It was going to be nice to meet new people.

I really enjoy painting the ceramic pieces, and through the months that I have lived here, I am slowly learning new techniques. What I really want to learn is the hand building. That is where (with clay) I will be making pieces like flowers, birds, grapes, anything my imagination will inspire; then, after the clay piece is made I mold it onto a wet ceramic piece, such as a tea pot, vase, etc. I really can't wait to learn this. The owners of Slipaway will offer this class starting in February. I am excited.

I have enjoyed meeting the ladies who are involved in ceramics, and they have provided me with travel companions, and lunch mates. One lady I met at ceramics went with me when I went on a 4 day cruise to the Bahamas in September. The cost was $288 each. Not bad because we did not have to pay for air fare. All I had to do was drive the 2 hours to Port Canaveral and park the car (I paid for the gas, she paid for the parking). I thought, this is going to work! Then, another lady and I saw an advertisement for a 17-day trip in November to Barcelona, ports in Spain, Portugal and Gibraltar before making the cruise across the Atlantic. Seventeen days was about $2500. That is air fare, the ship, taxes, insurance, everything. Not bad. We went.

The Club meets every Thursday, and together about a dozen women and one man paint ceramic pieces, talk, and eat. We listen, laugh, eat, and plan what we are going to do next. For that time together we are one, and although it is not a job or school to meet people, I have started forming a friendship with these ladies. We are all at different stages in our lives, but we are all healthy and we have healthy attitudes of wanting to make this life work. We have also lost great loves in our lives, whether through death or divorce, and although we mention those great loves, we do not dwell on it. That is the difference between staying put in my former community and moving on in a new community. As one of the ladies said today when I mentioned that one of the talkers talked a lot because she is probably lonely, this lady said, and at some times we all get lonely. True, but here all I have to do is put my foot out the door, go for a walk, say hi to someone in the clubhouse, sit down to play cards, go the gym, join a club or attend a class, and I don't have to be lonely. Or, maybe I should say, I will be surrounded with people. And, hey, isn't that what life is about. Being with people.

Will definitely write about the move on Monday. Have a great weekend. (And, yes, retired people do still categorize sections of the week -- there is still Mondays, Fridays, and weekends.)

Choosing Where to Live in Florida

When I was young, fresh out of college, I found a job reporting for the Hollywood Sun-Tattler in Florida. I loved my life then, hated to leave, and always yearned to go back. I had to go back to Illinois because back in the '70s, I did not make enough money to live on, let alone pay for a car and pay back the student loan. I made $2.10/hour with a Bachelor's Degree. Mind you, all prices are relative. I paid $160/month for rent including utilities, and I had a Baby Blue Cougar Convertible that cost me about $7000 new, but $2.10 did not go far. I tried getting a second job but it was not allowed at the paper, and once I did wait tables midnight shift in Miami Beach, but someone saw me there and reported me. So, even though they liked me at the paper, and was willing to give me a loan (further in debt -- really?), I left and went home to cold Illinois.

It was a no-brainer where I would retire to -- but where in Florida. Not back to the East Coast. When Al and I checked that area out years ago, it had changed too much for me to be comfortable there. I had friends on the West Coast in Florida, so that is where I started looking while I snowbirded during those couple of years. I looked at quite a few places and areas, and decided I wanted to be in an active adult community because there were people there.

I chose the active adult community over a neighborhood because I knew it would be hard to meet people as a single, retired person new to the area and the state. There would be no job, no school, no where in particular to meet people, and it was very important for me to be around people and to become involved.

I looked at small communities where there were few clubs, communities where couples were favored over singles, one community (The Villages) that was extremely large and very well known, and there I found it was too large for me. I felt like Goldilocks -- one was too big, one was too small, but where was the right size?

I did find it in Sun City Center. It has two parts -- the gated and the ungated. I chose to live in the gated part because there is a HOA fee and everything is done for you. I do not have to worry about the lawn, the outside paint, bugs, roof, etc. All I have to do is take care of the inside, plus the fee pays for water, cable, garbage -- everything but electricity. I am a half hour to Tampa, half hour to Sarasota, 40 minutes to St. Pete, 20 minutes to Brandon, an hour to Orlando/Disneyworld, 2 hours to Ft. Myers, and 2 - 2 1/2 hours to the East Coast (NASA area). In other words, I am centrally located. And I am getting to know all the areas excluding Orlando.

At SCC there are over 200 clubs, and as I have gotten to know the area, there are those clubs in the gated part and then again in the ungated part. Anyone with a badge is welcome either place.

The community itself is lacking. There are few stores, basically fast food restaurants, and no movie theater, but in just a few minutes I can be anywhere and this place is growing, especially since Amazon has built a warehouse a couple of miles from here. Give it a few years. On the up side, they do show current movies at the theater on grounds for only $2, and there are nice restaurants on grounds, and I am finding great, no, superb seafood restaurants close by on the water.

So, my community was picked. Then, I needed to find a house. I had the offer on my house in Illinois and the closing date was late August. The first of August I headed to Florida to find a house. And I found one, cute, basically new, desired location, and I put an offer on the house and left the state for Myrtle Beach to visit my nephew who is a real estate appraiser.

I did not even get to the state line before someone else came in with cash and bought the house. I had a runner up. I told the realtor to put an offer in on that house. That one was gone in 15 minutes. He could not even put the offer in. I needed to talk with my nephew.

Once in Myrtle Beach, after talking with my nephew, I looked on the internet and found a house that interested me. I was beginning to doubt my decision to move, thinking maybe this was wrong, but instead called the realtor and put another offer on this house. I got it, sight unseen. I was going to close on this house in Florida approximately one week after my house closed in Illinois. I really needed to go home and finish packing and get rid of stuff. Wait until you read about this!

Have a great day. I will be back tomorrow.

The ending of Chapter 13

I did not bury Al; rather, he was cremated, and I still have his ashes. I don't know what to do with them. He would be soooo mad at me for keeping his ashes, but, seriously, I do not know what to do with them.

Mother continued at the nursing home, and she was worried about me. My doctor was worried about me. Many people were worried about me. I continued to work, continued to be with mother, and went to hospice counseling (Al had hospice also even though he was in the nursing home), and I saw another counselor, and I went to grief counseling. I found out I was okay, but due to all the deaths coming at once, I was having major grief. I was okay, and all was needed was to work through this. During this time, I could not focus on anything. I could not read, I could not write, I could not hold a long conversation, I could not watch a movie, I could not watch a tv program. I had the tv on for noise, but I have no recollection of watching anything longer than a minute. I told my mother she could not die, that she had to live because I could not go through another death right now. I know she stayed alive for me.

And one night, in the middle of the night, I woke up and said I had had enough. Life is short, and I was going to retire. So, a year before the date Al and I picked, I put in my notice, got my forms in order, and left my employer.

Mother continued to hang on -- at 94 years old, and weighing only 90 pounds, and still not eating nor drinking, and handling her own grief of losing her two daughters, she lived.

And that first winter after I retired, I went to Florida for a month, and she said okay. I called her every day, and it felt good to be away from the cold, from all the memories. And I returned to mother, and started going through the house, letting go of some of Al's possessions. That is a very hard thing to do, and it took me a very long time. In fact, I still have some of his stuff.

Looking forward to the next winter, I wanted to go back to Florida but for 3 months. I told mother of my wishes and intent, and she said no, she wanted me with her. I begged, pleaded that I needed to get away and I would be back. She said no, and I said yes. I said, okay, a month, please. She didn't like it, but she gave in. Instead, she died. At the age of 95, she just got sick one day and died within a couple of days. She died on Jackie's birthday.

Mother lived a long, good life doing exactly what she wanted to do, and together her three girls made sure she was happy with life. So, no, I do not have any grief on her dying. And I was so tired, so weary that sometimes it would be hard for me to simply put one foot in front of another. Actually, I celebrated her death because of her life. She would now be with her husbands (she was afraid that she would have to choose one of them in heaven -- I said, I don't think it is like that, to have to choose), and her sisters, and brother, and her parents, and her children. All she wanted from life was to have a family, and she watched that being taken from her, so, no, I never felt bad. May we all live as good of a life as she had.

And I went to Florida for three months. A friend of mine knew someone who owned a place in Florida, called her, told her my situation, and I was in for 2 months. I rented another place for a month. It was a strange 3 months. I walked around in a daze, didn't know where I was, and knew only a few people there, but it was the beginning of my coming out of my haze. I remember looking in the mirror one day, and said, oh, no, you have to change.

When I got back to Illinois, I decided I needed to do something. I started substitute teaching, but that did not work out. Then, I saw an ad in the paper for a tutor for a young man with autism. I thought, I could do that, sent my resume, had the interview, and was hired.

Miracles happen in the most unexpected ways. Who would have known that a young man with autism helped me through this transition, and gave me a reason to live. Together, we read, and cooked, and I went on field trips to Chicago with him, and we continually and consistently counted and worked with money. And his mother was always trying to feed me, and we would talk without her knowing any details of what I had just transitioned from. And we would laugh, and watch the tulips bloom, and the snow gather on the deck. And we would talk about where he went on vacation, and where I went on vacation. And I was getting better, I was coming back to life.

After two years, I knew I could not continue this forever. It would have been very easy to have this as my life, so I started thinking of snowbirding to Florida in the winter. Then, one night in the middle of the night, I sat up straight in bed, said, I am going to move to Florida, and then laid back down and went back to sleep.

The next morning I started to get my house ready to sell. I was going to move to Florida and start over. I was going to do that.

And that is what I did, I started Chapter 14 of my life. It started in September, 2014, and this is my journey. My 14th distinct journey, and I hope you follow it with me. I hope that I can help someone who has lost, whether through death or an unwanted divorce, and know that there is life after that loss. It will not be the same life, but it can be a good life.

Until tomorrow....

Chapter 13 continued --

In 2008 I had my hip replaced (due to arthritis), and the recovery was fine. Then, I had the opportunity to stay at home for my recovery and spend time with Al. I treasured our time together, and even though this was not the way I wanted to spend time with him, it was appreciated. He continued to be my mentor, my sounding board, and now my nurse. I talked to mother on the phone, and Al visited my mother to make sure all was well at the nursing home. All in all, 2008 was a good year, and in regards to 2009, it was a great year.

2009 was the beginning of the end. Al and I were starting to talk about when I would retire ( since he was older than me, he already was retired) and what we would do. We had a semi plan, and we were looking forward to the days when it would be just the two of us again, at least for 3 months out of the year when we would snowbird. And then there came a day in the summer when Al coughed and he coughed blood. Alarm, not much but a trip to the doctor was in order.

In between time, my sister who lived in my hometown, died. She went into the hospital with what she thought was an asthma attack, and a week later, she died. Cancer had ravaged her body. They could not test her brain, but they thought it had gone there, and maybe that was the reason why her behavior was so bazaar. Who was once my best friend, and who later told me she hated me, was now not on this earth. My mother's baby was gone. And mother cried, and I felt I needed to be with her even more.

And during this time Al had many tests, He was diagnosed with Stage 2 Lung Cancer. Stage 2, OK. It's just the beginning. He wanted surgery. "Get it out" was his motto, and we found a surgeon at Rush in Chicago who would do minimally invasive surgery to remove the cancer from his lung. As the surgery was scheduled for October, I decided to visit my sister in Myrtle Beach to tell her about Al, and basically ask for moral support and for her to come home for a bit to be with mother.

When I got to Myrtle Beach, my sister was in the hospital. She had a colonoscopy a few days before and she ended up in the hospital. Oh, no, this can't be. Not Jackie! I called Al, and he told me to make sure she moved to a large teaching hospital. I talked with her, and her doctor diagnosed her with diverticulitis. I doubted that, but I am not a trained medical person, but I did not like what I was hearing, and Jackie was in pain. And as I sat in the hospital room, we talked. Not about Al, but about her and her life and her children. I wanted to stay there with her, I wanted to scream at the nurses and doctors to listen to me -- that she just had a colonoscopy, and they had to look at that. I wanted to be with her, to make things right. And I wanted to be with Al, and I needed to be with my mother. And I had a job to go back to. And I left Jackie, knowing her outcome was not good. Her final words to me were, "I love you, Mary, and take care of mother." She was in her husband's and doctors' hands. There was nothing I could do as a sister except be there for her, and I had to leave. And she wanted me to. I told her I would stay, and she insisted no, I had to take care of mother. She had no idea about Al, about my true intentions for the trip to visit her.

The month of October, 2010, was probably the worst of my life, and will always be the worst of my life. Jackie was dying in Myrtle Beach, and then transferred to the Medical Center in Charleston, SC, where she was basically put on life support. And Al was operated on at Rush in Chicago. One day in particular, I was spending my days in ICU at Rush with Al, and he was good, getting better, when he simply fell out. His entire body shut down, and all doctors, nurses, it seemed as if everyone was there working on him. I sat in a corner, and with tears running down my cheeks I  prayed. And Al died, and the doctors brought him back to life. I watched it all from my corner. And when I could not stay any longer and I knew that he would be on this earth tomorrow, I went back to the Marriott and called my nieces in South Carolina. My sister was dying, having a heart attack, and her body was shutting down. And I called my mother who was crying, and I called my cousin to look after my mother. And I returned to the hospital the next day, and Al was better, stronger.

And after a few weeks, Al came home with me with a diagnosis of "cancer cured". We asked about radiation, chemotherapy, and the doctor said no, he had no cancer. And we believed him.

In between time, I still had my job, and I spent as much time as I could with my mother, knowing my mother's first born was about to die. Jackie's children finally decided to let Jackie go, and they called me to say when -- on my birthday! No, no, no. So, they said, OK, the day before. Birthdays will never be filled with the same joy as before. There is nothing to celebrate except another day gone by. So, on November 15, 2009, my sister left this earth, and I sat with my mother that day. She has now lost two husbands, her house, her earthly possessions, and two of her three children. And she can't eat. I have never felt so bad for one person as her. And then, I went back to Myrtle Beach for the funeral, and then I went back and stayed home to concentrate on Al. To simply be with him and love him and enjoy his personality and how he made me feel.

That was short lived. In January, 2010, Al started complaining about his shoulder hurting. After many doctor's appointments, trips to the ER, and phone calls to medical personnel, he was again diagnosed with cancer. This time, bone cancer. I knew this was it for him. And he knew it, too. And we talked. And he went into the hospital, his children were called, and he was released from the hospital to the same nursing home my mother was in. In fact, the room next door. The doctor said he had up to 6 months. All I heard was 6 months. I believed that. I guess, I needed to believe that. But within a week of checking into the nursing home (he refused to die at home), on April 7th, I kissed him good night, and he said, "I love you, Mary", and I went home, saying I will be back tomorrow. The next day I got a call about 11 and the nurse told me to come to the hospital. I didn't understand her, and I said I would come after work. She said, no, now. It hit me, and I looked at my co-worker and said, I have to go. Tell the bosses I am leaving. I called his daughter immediately as I was driving to Al. I was there, my mother was there, Al's sister and niece were there. And Al left this earth at 1;10 pm. His daughter made it at 1;20 pm and I gave her time to be with him alone.

I will finish the ending of death and the beginning of the transition in Chapter 13 tomorrow.

In the Beginning

Good Morning --

This is my first post for my blog "Chapter 14's Journey". This will be an account of my changes during this chapter of my life, and how I got to this point. I debated a while on whether to write this, but with friends' support and encouragement, I decided to just jump in and do it.

Let me back up for a minute. I have lived a full life filled with accomplishments, love and laughter. I was living with the love of my life, Al, and together we had a great life. My job was not that great, but I made good money and I was saving for my retirement, traveling, and just simply enjoying life. Then, one summer day in 2005, my life changed. It was the beginning of chapter 13. It lasted 9 years with three of those years wondering what in the world was I going to do with my life now.

Chapter 13 began when my step father suddenly died with cancer. Actually, he had kidney cancer for a year and told no one until one Wednesday he asked to go to the hospital, and in the emergency room we heard him say that he had cancer. The shock of that was one thing, but the speed to the end was completely another thing. He was released that Friday with Hospice coming to the house, and we called his sons who lived in Arizona and Texas. They arrived by Sunday, a few hours before he died, and life changes. He was 87, my mother 88.

Immediately, I became the primary caregiver to my mother. She wanted to stay in the house, and I wanted to abide by her wishes. We found a CNA who would come into the house during the day while I worked, and at night me and other family members would take turns to stay with her. I knew things would change with time, but for the time being, this was a good plan. Too bad it did not materialize.

Thinking everything was under control, I started to go to work when I got a call from LifeLine, my mother had fallen. Instead of going to work, I immediately called in, and went to the house. The ambulance was there by the time I got there. Long story short, she broke her leg, and was to rehabilitate at a local nursing home; one with very good reviews and reputation. Her rehab turned into a permanent residence when we found out that she did not have enough bone left in her leg for the bone to heal due to osteoporosis. Okay, we'll make the best of this. She was lucky enough to save enough money to stay in the nursing home in a private room (not that much difference in cost). So, I now had to dispose of all of her worldly possessions and the house. She lost everything -- a husband, a house, and most everything she owned in her life. Not a nice way to spend your last days on earth. But she will even have more heart break as time goes by.

We did make the best of it for quite some time. It was hard on me, but, hey, I gave her enough grief when I was young that this was the least I could do for her. For the next three years, mother, Al, and I retained some sort of schedule. I worked, Al became sicker with COPD and diabetes, we traveled a bit, and mother settled into the nursing home routine. The nurses and CNAs loved her. One of my sisters lived in Myrtle Beach, and she would call mother every day and come to see her every few months. The other sister lived in town and became a big pain in the butt. But, that was her problem, not mine. My focus was on caring for mother, Al, and my job. Didn't even think about me. And I started to gain weight. And I started to get tired.

Then, a few years into this journey, mother came close to death, and she had the choice of a feeding tube or death. She was very aware of everything and she made her own decisions. She chose the feeding tube. Her life changed drastically. I do not think she understood the ramifications of the feeding tube and after its insertion, she refused to leave her room. From that day forward until she died some three years later, she did not have a morsel of food nor a drink of water. Never. And she never cheated. And she never complained. Never. I so wonder if she knew what was going to happen in the next few years if she would have had the feeding tube. I will never know that answer because I never had the heart to ask her. I only know that this changed my attitude on how I look at life and how I look at the end of life. I never want anything to prolong life. Never. And I have made the necessary arrangements to see this is fulfilled.

Tomorrow, I will continue with Chapter 13 so we can journey together in Chapter 14. Have a great day.