Election Day is 11 Days Away
Undecided voters, people that don't like either candidate, people voting for Bush, whoever. I ask you, for the sake of your future grandchildren, to read this article. Take a moment and think about where things are going in this country. Can we afford another 4 years of this?
Here's just a little piece from Molly Ivins column:
You probably don't remember the time he (Bush) visited the Youth Opportunity Center, a job training site in Portland, Ore. Hailed it as a model, praised the center and its staff. A month later, he cut it out of the budget.
I'm not saying Kerry is perfect. In fact, for some people, this bumper sticker I saw the other day sums it up: "Kerry sucks less then Bush." But if there are so many Republicans out there that are fed up with the direction of our country too and are now voting for Kerry (my father-in-law is one), doesn't that say something?
Until election day, I'm going to keep pounding this point home. So those of you who are sick of all my Kerry pushing & political talk, maybe it's best you don't read my blog until after November 2. Cuz it ain't gonna stop until then.
Friday, October 22, 2004
Thursday, October 21, 2004
Thoughts...
Maybe it's because it's fall, or the weather is dreary, but my thoughts keep returning to my Grandma...
At the end of September, it was two years since she had passed away. It still feels like there is something missing. It was such a joy to be able to go to her place as an adult and talk about anything. We'd have snacks (donuts!) and just chat about all kinds of stuff. In the last year of her life it became more about helping her out. Getting groceries, cleaning, those kinds of things. But it's the talking I miss the most. And knowing she was just there.
At her funeral, I read a memorial that I wrote. It was important for me to do that because she had always encouraged my writing. What I wrote for the funeral wasn't much, and I wanted to write it and say much more, but what I came up with is all that I could at the moment. Getting up to read it was much harder then I ever realized. I just wanted to convey to everyone what an amazing lady she was. I wish I could be more like her. And I wanted people to stop and think about their own grandparents, parents, etc that were still around and not waste that precious time with them. I wish even now that I could be closer to my Grandpa and Grandma Webb so that I could help them out with the cleaning, appointments, food. And I wish I could be closer to my parents so that I could help them as well.
I've always been afraid of death. When my step-sister Mary was killed in a car accident when we were just 16 freaked me out. I slept on the floor in my mom's bedroom for 3 months. After that, I avoided funerals and any mention of death just scared me. My dog was getting old, I was afraid to lose her. My grandparents were aging, I didn't want to lose them. I just couldn't deal with any of it. When Grandma died, my dad suggested that I use this experience as a way to overcome this fear.
At first, it wasn't easy. That night, after she died, I woke up screaming from a nightmare. At the funeral home, I was a mess. I had not been back to that funeral home since my grandfather had died some 19 years before. I didn't want to see her lying there. But, with me sobbing, and my mom and Mike on either side of me, I went up there. She really did look nice-more like herself then she had in many months. But, it just didn't seem right. It seemed like she would sit up and start talking to us.
By the end of the evening, things were easing. One thing that always helps is humor. My cousin Cindy's son Ryan (age 8 at the time) asked his mom if he could go up and tell Grandma something. When she gave her consent, he walked over and said in a low, confidential voice, "Grandma, when Derrick (his brother) was little, he called it a Bagina." I laughed so hard. It was the most random thing in the world, but Ryan knew how much Grandma got a hoot out of the things little kids said.
What I didn't imagine was that saying goodbye at the grave site would be the hardest part. I thought if we could all just get through the funeral, things would be better. But it was that final goodbye, in the rain, with the church bells tolling that hurt the most. It was like a movie-a small country church, people gathered under umbrellas, soft crying and talking. I just remember walking up and kissing her coffin, then putting my hand on top of the stone she shared with Grandpa and thinking, goodbye.
One of the moments out of the whole entire process that stands out is the experience between my mom & dad. My grandma loved my dad-no matter what. And dad thought the world of her, as did my step-mom. Grandma didn't judge, she just took things as they were. When Dad arrived at the church and was greeting people (many he hadn't seen in years) he came to my mom. He put out his hand to Mom to shake, and then put his arm around her in a hug. That put things to right in my mind, after all these years. I appreciated the gesture, as did my mom. And I have my grandma to thank for that moment.
And so, as I said at the beginning, I'm not really sure why I felt pressed to write this today, or why I was remembering. But, we all miss Grandma still, and I know we always will.
What gets me through is thinking of the reunions she must have had when she got to where she was going.
Maybe it's because it's fall, or the weather is dreary, but my thoughts keep returning to my Grandma...
At the end of September, it was two years since she had passed away. It still feels like there is something missing. It was such a joy to be able to go to her place as an adult and talk about anything. We'd have snacks (donuts!) and just chat about all kinds of stuff. In the last year of her life it became more about helping her out. Getting groceries, cleaning, those kinds of things. But it's the talking I miss the most. And knowing she was just there.
At her funeral, I read a memorial that I wrote. It was important for me to do that because she had always encouraged my writing. What I wrote for the funeral wasn't much, and I wanted to write it and say much more, but what I came up with is all that I could at the moment. Getting up to read it was much harder then I ever realized. I just wanted to convey to everyone what an amazing lady she was. I wish I could be more like her. And I wanted people to stop and think about their own grandparents, parents, etc that were still around and not waste that precious time with them. I wish even now that I could be closer to my Grandpa and Grandma Webb so that I could help them out with the cleaning, appointments, food. And I wish I could be closer to my parents so that I could help them as well.
I've always been afraid of death. When my step-sister Mary was killed in a car accident when we were just 16 freaked me out. I slept on the floor in my mom's bedroom for 3 months. After that, I avoided funerals and any mention of death just scared me. My dog was getting old, I was afraid to lose her. My grandparents were aging, I didn't want to lose them. I just couldn't deal with any of it. When Grandma died, my dad suggested that I use this experience as a way to overcome this fear.
At first, it wasn't easy. That night, after she died, I woke up screaming from a nightmare. At the funeral home, I was a mess. I had not been back to that funeral home since my grandfather had died some 19 years before. I didn't want to see her lying there. But, with me sobbing, and my mom and Mike on either side of me, I went up there. She really did look nice-more like herself then she had in many months. But, it just didn't seem right. It seemed like she would sit up and start talking to us.
By the end of the evening, things were easing. One thing that always helps is humor. My cousin Cindy's son Ryan (age 8 at the time) asked his mom if he could go up and tell Grandma something. When she gave her consent, he walked over and said in a low, confidential voice, "Grandma, when Derrick (his brother) was little, he called it a Bagina." I laughed so hard. It was the most random thing in the world, but Ryan knew how much Grandma got a hoot out of the things little kids said.
What I didn't imagine was that saying goodbye at the grave site would be the hardest part. I thought if we could all just get through the funeral, things would be better. But it was that final goodbye, in the rain, with the church bells tolling that hurt the most. It was like a movie-a small country church, people gathered under umbrellas, soft crying and talking. I just remember walking up and kissing her coffin, then putting my hand on top of the stone she shared with Grandpa and thinking, goodbye.
One of the moments out of the whole entire process that stands out is the experience between my mom & dad. My grandma loved my dad-no matter what. And dad thought the world of her, as did my step-mom. Grandma didn't judge, she just took things as they were. When Dad arrived at the church and was greeting people (many he hadn't seen in years) he came to my mom. He put out his hand to Mom to shake, and then put his arm around her in a hug. That put things to right in my mind, after all these years. I appreciated the gesture, as did my mom. And I have my grandma to thank for that moment.
And so, as I said at the beginning, I'm not really sure why I felt pressed to write this today, or why I was remembering. But, we all miss Grandma still, and I know we always will.
What gets me through is thinking of the reunions she must have had when she got to where she was going.
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