What Becomes of Life Now?

 

 

 

As it seems that I have done for the last few months, I'm replaying history - like the movie plot that gets us all confused and bewildered, wondering if this scene is in the present tense, or rather a piece of memory? Each time I've written since January (aside from the gardening posts),  I am sending readers back into time. I recently posted a very sad, still fresh, harsh reality - my mother no longer exists.

poem read at her Celebration of Life

What now? Is there a certain way to live ... sans mother... a tried and true method that will help me to plod through all of this? I was given a gift of 55 years loved by a woman that was but a child herself when I was born. She loved me with every piece of her soul - she was more than happy to express her unbridled affection for me - her only daughter. Her lovingly exclaimed ~ "MY GIRL"
a frequent nickname for me.

Surprised at myself, quite honestly, that there is not horrible, wrecked, visible emotion at every turn. I have always been quick to cry, palpably emotional, touched and teary by even the merest of incidents. Yet, it feels to me that I am .... holding onto something? holding back? holding on for dear life? waiting for the other shoe to drop? For the life of me I cannot figure it out.

There is still the other 50% that makes me whole, to think about - my Dad. That man, so strong - and sturdy too, at most times. He had a break in his solidness just after my Mom's passing. He really got sick and it was quite difficult to watch. We hardly knew what to do for him. Off we were to emergency rooms (again, uugghhh) and doctors. He came through and has delighted each of us - his children - with his complete willingness to accept all of the "newness" of this lousy situation.

Many weeks at the beginning months of this year were spent with me traveling back and forth to his home in the pines, and living out a week here, a week there. My brothers playing back-up on weekends doing their faithful & loving duties.

Thus is my slice of abundance for the time being. So much of the time with my Dad a pleasure. Time that frankly was not often spent previously; alone with just him. As Mom and I would scoot off to browse antique shops and lunch, and be girls together - taking up most of the precious moments we spent, just we two.  Not that he much minded... we still had loads of family time with the whole crew!

Lo and behold, amidst the sadness and traveling there was fun and beauty also. I took brief moments here and there to truck off with my camera, possibly with Dad's dog, sometimes with heaviness in my heart, and other times with joy at the simplest of things. I took many a backroad and country lane, once in snow and oft alone. There were jaunts with Dad to places that mattered to us - a part of our family's past - to the town where he was born, a place I left my heart many, many years ago. We had visits with his only living sister and lunch at a funky diner with his great-niece!

There is still abundant joy to be had - in spite of the life we now have....
The abundance not always in the form I would love....

January 11th

It's come to down to this... the telling of what January will forever represent to me.  Possibly there will come a time that the start of a new year will mean what it does for most folks. It may hold promise and, like I said in this post {click here}...just imagine the possibilities a new year can present. Wonder how long it will take for me to imagine good possibilities?

We were with my brother & wife to finally get me up to speed with technology.  A smart phone was coming home with me on that day. Lessons needed to be given on oh so many applications and uses. So, off we went to brother's home for some lunch and tutoring. We thought ahead and invited our niece to lunch for her 30th birthday party planning. And, sometime in the early evening we left our small gathering of family - quite sated in food, learning, and the smugness of getting event details in writing.


January elevenths evening hours were cool.  There was quiet at home, as I sat on the couch bundled in my white chunky weave blanket, inspecting the new contraption; adding contacts and apps. While I'm writing this it feels as though there should be a drum roll, or an eerily piercing movie soundtrack playing.... well, because this is dramatic.  I tend toward the big punctuation!!!, the LARGE telling of a story with big emphasis toward the punch line. This particular story needs emphasis on the ending. I need to tell it, in all it's BIGNESS, because in my heart this day was as dramatic as they come. So then... here is where a song plays and I begin to cry...

My Dad is calling me - a sure sign that there is an emergency - he's not the one to phone, my Mom is the communicator. Words fly back and forth. I'm not certain that he is correct in his observations.. my brain won't let me believe that the sentence he's forcing upon me is certain. The one thought that I cling to is that my Mom is getting help, that those talented EMT's will get her to safety. "NO, Dad, it's okay, she'll be okay. I'm leaving right now. I'll be there as soon as I can."

By nightfall we're on our way through the dark to their place in the pines. That new technology a lifesaver in our car as we travel hours down freeways. Hubby texting, returning calls, speaking for me, reaching family who need to be told. My focus on the white lines, my hands heavily clutching the wheel - I yell intermittently in response to questions being thrown my way, as I am unable to hear all that is being said... and well, because I'm mad!


Anyone that has experienced hospital scenes with a loved one in an emergent situation knows precisely where I will take you next. Except, I won't take you there... far too personal!

We were all there, crammed in the tiny curtained room; she was no longer with us. All hopes dashed. In the early morning hours of January 12th the woman that gave me life, left her earthly one behind.

It feels as if I've only placed facts and time lines in this post. My emotions are strained... I haven't quite felt myself, and I'm running on energy from who-knows-where.  Possibly the energy will get me to the next phase of journaling about this life changing event....

Thanksgiving & Three....

Abundant Life...

Abundant Love...


Thankful for all that I am blessed to have, and all that I work for ~


ABUNDANT PICNIC...  on this Thanksgiving day, my words here have reached their 3 year Anniversary!

Three years ago on my first post {click link here} I spoke of having three Thanksgiving festivities to attend. This year I am sitting in my parents warm ( a tad too much so) house in the pines. Hubby & I have walked through the pinecone and needle laden streets. We've watched the New York parade, and now the television is tuned to football. The four of us will join a few of my parents friends for turkey dinner out. A whole new experience - and just such the sort of thing I consider the filling of an ABUNDANT PICNIC!

As time passes it is easy to reflect and wish for more time with our loved ones, many more hours on this earth, and in this beautiful life. How very thankful I am that my parents are still here.  How sad it makes me feel that my other Pops has left a wistful feeling in our hearts, as we near the one year anniversary of his passing.


Blessings of abundance and wishes of joy to all....


Shari

Not Nearly Enough

from the West coast to your coast - Connecticut...
~ a light still shining, amidst it all ~
~ a flag half-staff ~
~ a gorgeous sunset; there is still beauty in the world ~

Words... there are NO words...
Bloggers the world over, will not be posting words....
This is an email I received today:

A large group of bloggers throughout the U.S. will be observing a day of silence for those in Connecticut on Monday, December 17th. We will be posting the attached image on our sites, rather than any planned blog posts to show solidarity with the families and victims.

I'd like to invite you to join us.

   **

A second email came from this same lovely blogger. In it she mentions that she's unsure really what to do. What is the right thing? Will any of it matter?


At first I was in the camp to join-in as a comrade in force with my fellow writers. Apparently, I've crossed that boundary and followed my heart instead. I've now written words.


Still, these words are not nearly enough!

 

Loss

I call him Pops. Joseph Paul is on his birth certificate.  That certificate bears only statistical fact. Date and place that he was born, and to whom he belonged at that moment of birth. Were it simply that people came into this world - and then leave after a number of years - then I suppose I could bear the thought of the purely-factual-no-embellishment-style of obituary. But, this man was not ordinary - not in our eyes! I believe no human to be "plain ordinary"... we're much more than dates and places. Each of us has a story to tell. So Pops needed a written send-off filled with emotion and love, neigh - not grandeur - yet heartfelt and substantial - full of substance, just like he. An honor was bestowed me and I was asked to pen Joseph Paul's departing facts.

My Father-in-law passed away this week. It came as no surprise. Unfortunately we've had years of fear that time was not on his side. Hubby would say that Pops was living on borrowed time. My Joey definitely used that time wisely! He was going to get full use of that which he "borrowed". We can say with clear absoluteness that our days were often guided by our hearts.. did Pops want a game of dominoes; was he energized for a card game more than Solitaire?  Hey Pops? - wouldn't you say that your son made those quiet, puzzle-filled days a bit more sunny? I know the response would be YES! if you were able to speak with us again..


Pops? thinking of some of those last moments with you...  maybe you can enlighten us. You sure knew how then (and all of your years) to make people laugh... What the world did you want me to know about kapusta??  :-)  We've thought about you saying "kapusta, Shari.... it's not just pusta ...
it's kapusta"  Alrighty!!  somehow your mind was thinking back to Polish cabbage, and now? NOW that silly thing you said makes me cry, and at the same time starts me to smiling!

In the end kapusta, pickles and your request for water will remain with me all my days.
Your dry humor, devilish smirk, complete generosity, kindness and gentle ways are how your family will describe you and keep you ever alive in our hearts!



                     Nigdy będziemy zapominać was
                                    (in Polish - we will never forget you)

*****************************************************************

How I described this dear man, that I have been lucky enough to call my Father-in-law for 24 years ~

Joseph Paul Niczewicz

A giving and gentle soul, Joe passed away

on December 1, 2012 at the age of 79. Born

and raised in Troy, NY where much of his

family still resides.

Joe enlisted in the US Navy, and served on

the USS Midway 1951-1955. Stationed at

Moffett Field. This is how he came to the

west coast, and but for a brief return to NY,

made his home here in Santa Clara.

Joe raised his two sons in this home filled

with laughter, card games, sports activities

and endless devotion and love.

Retired from City of Santa Clara after 31 years.

Meeting his much adored wife, Frances at the

City of SC. Married for 44 years.

Joe joins many loved ones in heaven - including

his parents, and some of his 10 siblings. He will

be reunited with his beloved son, Chuck. Joe is

survived by his wife Frances, son Joey , Daughters-

in-law Shari Nicsevic & Germaine Houston,

Grandchildren George (Juliet), Janelle Ginestra, and

Great Grandson Charlie. He will be grieved by his

large family from coast to coast. His warm lap will be

missed by his dog companion, Kala.

Joe was a giving man; his fulfillment to dote

on his family. In knowing the spirit of this kind man’s

world, we are left with a fine example of how a life

should be led.

Amidst The Joy

Tucked into one of the days that we were blissfully playing in the sand - a tinge of sadness found it's way in. My Dad's youngest sister {my Aunt Bea} passed, at home in California. We were aware of the situation and my parents had just taken her and another sister to lunch before leaving on our trip.

Aunt Bea
 

One week after returning from Paradise - the family gathered to send my Aunt off to another Paradise. There were many of us. A good showing of nieces and nephews and those last couple of Aunt Bea's siblings. My Dad was one of 11 children. There are now only three. The point is not lost on the realization that we very nearly sent Dad to heaven a year ago...

Hubby & I left town early for Gerber to help with some of the set-up. Aunt Bea asked that there be a luncheon in her yard. Some of we cousins made Mexican paper flowers..

Bea's home was peeling of paint, sat quirk-ily askew on it's foundation, and held cobwebs in nearly every window. These observances were of no consequence. Actually, I found all of these items endearing.

 I also was intrigued by the surprise that Aunt Bea played the fiddle.

She sang in a choir, she was never married - nor ever had children, she was a hard working single lady, she was a community activist and volunteer. That is just some of her. The piece that I will remember most is her laugh. Aunt Bea laughed with gusto. It was unique, it was loud and funny. There was a chuckle mixed in too.



Together, we "fiesta-ed" in the scraggly, petite yard of my Aunt... all generations of us ~

my Dad and his Great-Great nephew

my Brother Randy and my Uncle Ralph

For heaven's sake!! I can hardly believe this ... nary a photo was taken of the women of the family on this day - Aunt Bea requested that the women wear hats, and the men wear jackets. We complied. It looked wonderful! I am nearly sick that I won't have an image of this to keep... only the image that's in my heart!

We did it Bea - we wore our hats!

Spanning the Ages

Saturday had my emotions all over the map. Feeling old before my time at one point, and young-again happy later.

We filled the pews at a funeral for a friend of our own age. Each time these sorrowful events happen it casts a shadow, ever so briefly, on my life gauge. That being where I am at the point, at that age, and where I hope to be in the future. It stops me in my tracks, puts a fuzzy gray blanket on those years that are  a ways down the measuring stick. If someone my own age has passed then how can I take for granted the fact that there will be many more years? Thankfully I don't dwell on this and I DO make plans for the future while being grateful for each day.

By day I felt older than my number. Sadness has the ability to tire you and make one weary don't you think? And then, by night I was light, happy and oh so young again. We went dancing, stayed out late and were in the company of new love. A definite prescription to feeling years my junior!


club essentials!

Now I'll sign off and go be silly, giddy even... and YOUNG!! I'll be watching the Golden Globes.

* Also, I've added some important work to my Jan. 12th post - Growing! Go see...