Tag Archives: loss

RAIN THEN TEARS

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I barely make it on time to the Greyhound Depot to catch my bus. It starts to rain about five blocks from the depot. I‘m thoroughly soaked through by the time I arrive there. My hair is dripping wet, and rain has somehow found its way inside my jacket.  I run towards the bus depot; my backpack is bouncing up and down on my back like a snare drum. The bouncing has the added effect of inducing a migraine headache. I step onto the bus and hand the bus driver my ticket. “Oh, sorry, I’m sorry. I got a late start. “

Greyhound Bus-Peter Wolf-Pixabay

I take one look at the bus, and I see it is packed to the gills. “Shit, shit, shit,”  I look at the driver and shrug my shoulders. “There aren’t any seats left; I purchased this ticket two weeks ago.”

“Yes, mam, there is. It’s in the second to last row on your left, next to the window.”

“Oh yeah, sorry, I see it. Thanks.”

I make my way halfway down the center aisle and trip over some guy’s foot that’s sticking out. He all but shouts at me, “Hey lady, lookout, are you blind or what?”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t see it sticking out. I didn’t expect someone to have their foot sticking out in the aisle so they could trip someone. And I give him one of my biggest smiles and flutter my lashes at him. And walk on. I mutter under my breath, “asshole.”

I notice as I cruise down the center aisle that all the other passengers have their heads down for some reason. Huh, I think what’s this all about? I try and catch someone’s attention, but no one looks my way. Then I think, oh maybe they’re all mad because I was late. Oh well, nothing I can do about that now.

I finally make it down the gauntlet of sad, distracted faces to my empty seat. I hear a weird noise. First, there is a sniffing sound. I think someone has a cold. And then I realize it’s the person in the seat next to mine. Great, now I’m going to catch a cold for crying out loud. I look at her. Tears are streaming down her flushed cheeks. I hear three loud sniffs, and then the crying starts and steadily increases until she is full-out sobbing. I take a step back. I look from left to right. I see no other course of action, no place else to go. I look at the people on the right and the left. Then I do an about-face and look at the passengers in the middle and the front.

About half of them have plugged in their headphones and have their heads down. The rest are staring out the windows. Probably wish they were anywhere but here on this stupid bus ride to hell. I turn back around and look at my seat.

“Excuse me,” I say to the crying young woman. “But this is my seat next to you. Could you move over so I can sit down?”

She slowly raises the armrest and blows her nose a couple of times on a tissue she has tucked up her sweater sleeve. I hear a honk, honk. I think, dear god, what is that noise? Then, I realize it’s the young woman blowing her nose. She slowly gets up, and I mean slowly, and moves over to the window seat. She doesn’t say a word, nada, anything at all. She just slides over and continues crying, with her head hanging low. Her chin is almost resting on her chest.

I pull off my backpack and unsnap one of the side pockets and pull out my headphones. I put my pack on the rack above my head with some difficulty.  I’m not the tallest person in the world, and I have short arms to boot. I finally shove it in and plop down in my seat. It’s only 7:55 am, and I’m exhausted. And there’s a thirteen-hour and fifteen-minute bus trip ahead of me. Oh well, I, think I’ll just take a nap, and that way I can get some rest and kill some time.

And that’s when I realize that I don’t have my migraine medicine with me. And I know that this is going to be the most interminable trip of my life. It was a mistake flopping down in my seat, too, as that has made my migraine pain even worse. I start to feel nauseous. My head is pounding as if it might explode. I begin worrying about how often they clean the bathroom on these Greyhound buses.

Somehow, I manage to fall asleep over the road noises and over the sobbing of my bus companion. As I’m about to drift off, I think, what in the world has happened to this girl to make her cry like this, non-stop and within hearing distance of everyone on the bus? And also, why am I so unlucky? Why did I end up sitting next to this weeping young woman? And then I realize it was my fault for being late leaving and being the last person to get on the bus. And that’s all I remember until I woke up about an hour later.

As I started to wake up, I hear a weird noise. I don’t immediately remember where I am. And then I hear a honking. Honk, honk, honk. It’s my seat companion. Blowing her nose once again. Dear god, is she still crying, I think?  I look over at her. Her eyes are so swollen from crying.   I can hardly see her eyes. Her nose is red. She starts pressing her fisted hands on her eyes and rubbing them back and forth. I stare at her. She seems to have forgotten that I’m sitting next to her. I try and decide what the best course of action is. Short of throwing myself out the window. Or at the very least, getting on a different bus at our first rest stop.

I stare at her red and puffy eyes and think. What would I want someone to do if the circumstances were reversed, and I was the one who couldn’t stop crying? Would I prefer people just ignored me or someone asks me if I’m alright?

“Excuse me; my name is Marilyn Carter. I know it’s none of my business, but you seem so upset. Is there anything I can do to help you?”

She looks over at me with a surprised expression on her face that says, where did you come from? She is still sniffling, and tears are running down her cheeks, but she isn’t sobbing anymore. I see her gulp. And then she clears her throat. “Oh, I didn’t even notice you were sitting there. And the short answer is no; I’m not alright. Four days ago, I was laid off from my job. Well, they called it a layoff]. But I won’t be called back. I loved that job. It was the first job I had where I felt I was making a real difference. I moved away from Raleigh to take the job. A place where I had spent my whole life. All my friends live there, and so does my family.”

As she mentions family, she starts crying again. I wait for her to continue. “And that morning before I got to work, I got a call from my father. He told me that my mother had a heart attack, and passed away. So, today I’m going home for the funeral. And while I’m there, I’m going to decide if I should go back to Philadelphia and look for another job there. Or if I should just go and pack up all my stuff in my apartment in Philly and move back to Raleigh and try to find a job there.”

“What did you say your name was, dear?”

“My name? Oh, of course, I’m sorry. I told you my whole life story, and you don’t even know who I am. My name is Candace Mickleton. I’m not in the habit of crying in public. I know this sounds dramatic, but I feel like my heart is broken. It hurts to keep breathing. Just the very act of breathing is painful. I love my mother so much. I called her every day. She always believed in me even when I struggled for so long, trying to find out what I wanted to do in my life. She was always there for me, telling me she knew I will be successful and not to ever lose faith in myself. And then to lose my job so unexpectedly. It’s too much. I don’t feel like I can go on. I can’t think of a reason why I should go on.”

“I hope you don’t mind if I call you by your first name Candace. Please call me, Marilyn.”

“First, please let me say how sorry I am about your mother passing away. I remember when my mother died and how her loss made me feel broken, empty. I couldn’t imagine going the rest of my life without seeing her. Every day for weeks, the first thing I thought about was my mother and how I would never see her again or hear her voice, how I would never hear her tell me how proud she was of me. And how much she loved me.”

“Over time during the day, I started thinking about how my mother would not have wanted me to feel this bereft because of her. She only wanted the best for me. And whenever I started feeling bad, I thought about how lucky I was to have such a wonderful mother. And I started to do things that made me feel happy; I concentrated on all the good things I had in my life. I moved forward in my life instead of being stuck in that moment of loss. I decided that from that moment forward, I would be happy and successful in my life because that is what my mother would have wanted for me.”

“As for losing your job well, that was bad timing. Perhaps you need this time to heal from your mother’s loss. Take the time to recover and consider what you want your future to be. You said that your job was the first job you loved and were doing well. You could use that experience as a springboard to something even better. While you are in Raleigh, you’ll have the opportunity to talk to all your old friends and relatives. And who knows one of them might be aware of an opportunity in the Raleigh-Durham area. That you aren’t aware since, as you said, you haven’t lived here in quite a while.”

Candace gradually stops crying as she listens to Marilyn. And she realizes she’s right. Her mother wouldn’t have wanted her to stop living her life. She would want her to move forward into her future with her optimism. “Thank you, Marylyn, that is what I needed to hear. I feel like I can breathe again. My mother would want me to go on with my life and be happy and successful. I don’t know what I’m going to do about finding a job. But I will talk to my family and get their advice. I love living in Philadelphia. I have made so many friends there. And there is always something going on downtown. On the other hand, I don’t like the idea of my father living alone. “

“Candace, why don’t you give it a few days and then talk to your father? He is probably in shock right now. You might find that he is perfectly capable of taking care of himself. And wouldn’t want you to give up your life in the North East. Since he knows how happy you are there.”

“Thanks again Marilyn I’m so lucky that you were late getting to the bus station. And that you ended up sitting next to me.”

“Thanks, Candace, life has a way of bringing the right people into our lives when we need them. I think I’m going to take another little nap now. But if you like it at the rest stop what say I buy you a nice lunch. I know I didn’t take time to eat breakfast, and you probably didn’t, either.” And with that, Marilyn’s eyes close, and she falls fast asleep and begins snoring loudly.

Candace looks at Marilyn and smiles. And closes her own eyes and falls fast asleep as well.

Corona Virus- May 16th,2020

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Corona Virus-May 16th, 2020

This week has brought equal parts of both good and bad. Reminders that life’s challenges help me to become a stronger person. This week I have observed that the Magnolia trees are in full bloom. I so look forward to seeing those majestic flowers every year. And it’s a reminder that life goes on despite what is happening now.
I look forward to the magnificent Crepe Myrtles blooming in a couple of months. We must allow ourselves these moments to enjoy the good things in life that are all around us.

Magnolia Flower- Photo by Bob Culver

One of the animals that I came to love at Animal Edventure met an untimely death. I will so miss her each day when I go there. She was the first one who greeted me, And I pet her from the top of her head to the end of her tail. I would bring her into the main building and feed her and give her something to drink. Such a beautiful animal. Such a short life.

I have faced many difficult times in my life. I believe I faced these times head-on. I look at each challenge and think about what will make this situation better or a least less painful. What can I do?

In 1985 my parents, who were then in their mid-seventies, became ill. My father developed lung cancer, he already had emphysema. He was a heavy smoker his whole life. My mother’s personality and behavior changed drastically. My mother was blind from glaucoma. She lost her vision slowly over time. She didn’t tell anyone what was happening. Her loss of vision affected her profoundly and she became frightened and paranoid. Perhaps it was dementia or as my brother who was a psychologist thought a psychosis. There aren’t words enough to explain how devastatingly painful to see my loving and caring mother change before my eyes to someone I didn’t recognize. I miss her still to this day. Not the person she became at the end of her life but the loving and devoted mother I knew for my whole life up until that time.

My children were only two and five at the time, and I was a stay at home mother for several years. And so, I was able to spend a great deal of time with my parents. My father gave me the power of attorney. I took over their finances and paid their bills and made medical decisions for them. When the time came, I bought their burial plots and their caskets, headstones, and flowers.

Lung cancer is an unforgiving disease and it progressed rapidly. By the time my father shared his symptoms with me, he had large inoperable lesions in his esophagus and right lung. At that time, there was no treatment for him, as the cancer was too advanced. My mother’s mental health deteriorated over this time. I have to admit I have never felt as low at any time in my life as I did during their illness and after their death. My entire family, which was a large one, stepped up to help take care of my parents. It was a sad time for us all.

After my father passed, it was apparent that my mother wouldn’t be able to live by herself. And I hired a woman whose name was Doris Cook to come in and stay with my mother during the week. My siblings and I took turns having my mother stay at our homes on the weekends. It was painful seeing my dear mother’s sweet and loving personality disappear day by day. She passed eight months after my father.

I know every member of my family felt this loss deeply. As for myself, I woke up every day and felt that loss and waves of sorrow would wash over me. Until I felt I was drowning in it. I thought I’m an orphan now, I have no parents. It took a long, long time for me to overcome this sadness. And still, to this day, I feel a deep emptiness when I realize that I will never see my parents again. Despite the fact that it has been over thirty years.

I have realized that loss is just as big a part of life as is joy and happiness. Loss offers us the opportunity to grow and mature and become a stronger man or woman. If we stand up to those challenges if we face then instead of running away or denying their existence.

Right now, at this moment, at this time, we are all facing the biggest challenges on every front that we never imagined would come our way. Not in our wildest imagination. A pandemic never crossed my mind, not once, not ever. I knew there was a pandemic in 1918 when my parents were young. But I certainly never thought it would happen in the here and now. In fact, I never thought about it at all. It belonged to the distant past. But here it is. And we are in the middle of it. Not just here in American but every single place big and small across our planet. So far, 308,985 people have died from this disease. Over 80,000 in the United States alone.

By nature, I am a caretaker and a fixer of sorts. In one way or another throughout my life, I have striven to give assistance and care to the people I come in contact with me. If I see a need and I am able to mitigate it in some way, I have. There are so many people now that are not getting their basic needs met with food, shelter, and clothing. I help in my own limited way.

We are all in this together. And if I could just offer this bit of advice please, please wear masks when you are out and about. They are not a sign of weakness. They are a sign that you care about others, including your own family members’ health and well-being. They protect “other people” whose masks protect “you.” Even if you never did anything for anybody your whole life, you can do this small thing NOW. Wear the mask to protect others and they will do the same for you.

We are not able to reliably project when the pandemic will end. It could appear as if it is and then flair up again and more people will die. Or it could become a seasonal disease that returns again and again. We will not become safe again until there is an antiviral available to protect us from this disease. And when this happens, get inoculated. Please. Do the right thing. If you never made a good decision in your life, why not start with this.

As you go about your daily life, try to be kind. I know it is difficult considering all the stress we are all under, not enough money to live on, buy food, pay our bills. People want to go back to work and provide for their families and they can’t yet. We miss spending time with our friends and family. And going out for fun. And a million other little and big things too long a list to mention. But, somehow, sometime in the future those of us who are still here will look back on this time and think, “I’m stronger than I realized. I did the right thing for myself, my community, and the world. I survived this, so I certainly can meet any other challenge that comes my way. Please do the right thing, not just for you but for all of us. We are all in this together.

__________________________________

Corona Virus- May 9th,2020

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Susan A. Culver writing- photo by Bob Culver 2020

I noticed this week traveling from my house to Animal Edventure that there has been a definite uptick in the number of cars on the roads. And cars parked at the local bar-be-que place that is located on route 50 just before I get onto route 210. I noticed people were waiting in their cars for take out, but at least half of the vehicles were empty, indicating that they were inside the restaurant eating.  This restaurant delivers the take-out to the cars, this despite the state mandate that no one can eat inside of restaurants yet.

When my husband went to the drugstore to pick up an order, he told me he didn’t see any people wearing masks except the employees. This is concerning since yesterday at 5 o’clock began the first step in three steps to open up NC. And people do not appear to be keeping six feet apart. Few people are wearing masks in the stores in this area. I am afraid of the consequences of this behavior. I can’t understand why they just don’t take these easy steps to keep the infection down. The outcome will be a tremendous increase in the number of people infected and possibly dying. I find this disturbing.

In my little neighborhood of twenty houses, I have observed some changes in our neighbor’s behavior. There is a house across the street where a couple who appear to be in their early forties live with their two teenage daughters. The mother is a math teacher in middle school. Currently, she’s teaching remotely. Since we moved here almost four years ago, I ‘ve observed her running early in the morning before she leaves for work. However, since she’s been home in these past weeks, she has increased her exercise routine, and her young daughters are included. The girls do all sorts of gymnastics, I think,might be related to being cheerleaders. But the Mom is now including weight lifting, including carrying large barbells over her head and briskly walking up and down half the street and then back again to her driveway. For some reason, I’m not sure why I find this comical. I’m fairly certain I would be unable to lift up these barbells of the ground, let alone carry them over my head up and down the street.

The UPS man is making deliveries to almost everyone on the street during the week at some point. I have to say that in some ways, people have adapted quickly to our current way of life.

Some of our neighbors who are out of work right now are doing projects on their homes. Upkeep, they have put off for years. Three families have replaced their mailboxes that were falling over or the mailboxes fell off. Every time I take a walk down the block, I pick up their mail and shove into the back of their mailboxes. Two families had their septic tanks pumped out. I don’t think I can take too much more excitement.

Our next-door neighbor cleaned their front porch of all the things that have accumulated on it. He also began painting his porch railings that had little paint left on them. I thought, oh great; he’s painting his porch. But unfortunately, an unexpected visitor arrived, and that was the end of the painting. Now his porch is half painted, and the paint and brushes are sitting on the porch deck. That was disappointing. What can I say we live in a quiet neighborhood except for the dogs barking all night and not a whole lot going on? It’s not Mr. Rodger’s neighborhood. But it is the quietest place I have ever lived.

In our garden, the Irises and Flags and Peonies are finished blooming. And now the roses and Calla Lilies are coming into bloom. I have come to enjoy sitting on our little deck and looking at our small pond beneath it. We have one large Koi; he seems to be the boss. And there are about twenty other smaller fish who swim in circles all day and seem quite happy to do so. Not realizing how small their pond world is since it is the only world they know. If you know nothing else, can you miss it? I don’t know. I put up hummingbird feeders from the railing of our deck and have yet to see a single hummingbird. I live in hope that they will appear sooner or later.

As for myself, I finished a long-term project this week. About nine years ago I recorded oral family histories from anyone in my family who wanted to participate. After they were edited, they were transferred to disks. I included letters to each of my family and instructions for copying the disks for their children and grandchildren. I mailed them off to them since I now live in North Carolina. And they live in New Jersey.

I interviewed each family member about their lives, the high points, and the lows. I found out many things I didn’t know about them. Since I’m the youngest in my family of six and my older siblings are fifteen and twenty years my senior. My brother told me that when my mother went into labor with my twin sister and myself, he drove her to the hospital. He was almost twenty at the time.

Unfortunately, my older brother passed away two years ago. But I know that his children will love hearing his voice again relating stories about his childhood and his life up until the time when I spoke to him. He led a good life and an interesting one and a productive one. He was a psychologist; he specialized in family therapy. And my oldest sister, Jeanie, died at forty-one from emphysema in 1979. She was beautiful and intelligent and kept her sense of humor throughout her long illness. I still miss her.

About ten years ago, I finished a book I made, which included family history and pictures of both my mother and my father’s side of the family who came from Ireland. And a family health history and pictures of each part of my family and their early life, married life, and their children. Also, I included copies of letters that my mother and father wrote to me in the seven years that I lived in Florida and California in the early years of my marriage. It took me three years to complete, and I gave everyone a copy at Christmas.

I haven’t decided on my next project yet. I am considering writing a children’s book and illustrating it. For the last year, I’ve been writing and publishing my memoirs on my blog. I’m not a famous person, but I believe that every life has value, and we have lessons to share and truths to tell. And we can learn from other people’s mistakes.

In my middle years, all I read was autobiographies because I have found the lives of people to be fascinating no matter if they were rich and famous or ordinary people like myself not afraid to share their secrets, their fears, their hopes, and their dreams. I’m and you are a book worth writing and a book worth reading and sharing.

I hope this coming week that you will keep safe and healthy and keep your eyes open for all the interesting things that life brings to you, whether it is birds nesting in your yard or your neighbor jumping up and down with barbells above their head.

__________________________________

LOVEY

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Lovey, the circus elephant

Lovey is exhausted and anxious. She’s been cooped up in the hot, dirty van for almost two days. Her legs are restless; she’s so thirsty that she begins to tremble. She trumpets her fear and discomfort for all to hear if anyone bothers to listen. She’s angry. She hasn’t felt anything for a long time, but she feels red-hot anger now. She rocks back and forth, hitting the sides of the van so violently that the van sways and rocks with her. The driver of the van yells, “Stop Lovey, stop” to no avail. He calls his boss on his cell phone. “You have to stop, so I can let Lovey out, or she’s going to cause herself and the van untold damage.”

The owner agrees to stop in the next empty lot he sees. And stay for the night, take care of the animals, and let everyone rest before their next performance. The last caravan pulls into the deserted parking lot well past midnight. Time and the sun have faded the painting of the bearded lady on the side of the van. But you can still clearly see her glamorous figure clad in a red, white, and blue ballerina tutu. Her glorious red beard is there for all to admire.

They had driven almost six hundred miles in the last two days. Everyone in the Three Ringed Circus is extremely tired, hot, and sweaty. It was getting harder and harder to find new venues. The public wants to see the glamour and incredible feats of courage and flying acrobats, doing death-defying acts. They want their animals wild, but safe, looking healthy and happy. But they weren’t getting that from Three-Ring Circus. It’s on the last leg of a journey that began its’ history in the early 1950s. Most of the famous performers have retired or moved on, or just disappeared from sight altogether.

When Gaucho pulls open the sliding doors to the van, Lovey trumpets as loud as she can, the only thing keeping her in the van is the shackles on her ankles. Gaucho has the bullock in his hand and shows it to Lovey. Usually, this is enough to calm her down. She knows from many years of experience that if it slaps against her sensitive skin, it will sting for a very long time and might well cut her. If the cut becomes infected, the circus doesn’t have a veterinarian on staff. And certainly, the little towns that they don’t have a wild animal vet. She would be a very sick elephant and might die from a simple injury. The circus often only had outdated medications and no money to spend on the care that these animals need. In the wild,  elephants often walk up to fifty miles a day across the savanna and live as long as fifty years.

Animals kept in circuses, even the famous, moneyed ones lived an average of twelve years. Gaucho steps back, he knows this animal has tremendous power and weight behind her, but he’s never seen her like this. He has been her trainer for five years. He knows from talking to the other carnies that Lovey and has been with the circus for a long time. And that at one time, she had a mate, named Ganesha a massive elephant from India. He had sickened and died before a large animal vet could be found. Lovey had been very attached to him and mourned his death for many years. He was told that she was never the same after his death. She had refused to perform and sometimes refused to eat or drink.

She has a big heart, and the loss had broken it. Elephants are herd animals, and she was here alone with no other elephants. She was near animals that would have been a threat to her if she were still living in the wild. Her life with the circus was unnatural and very stressful for her and all the other wild creatures that are captive here.

Gaucho walks over to the supply truck and pulls out a wagon that contains water. Luckily, they had filled all the containers upon their last stop. He grabs a bucket and puts it in the wagon. He pulls down the ramp and hurriedly pulls the wagon down the ramp and over to the terrified and terrifying Lovey. He carefully slides the bucket next to her and fills it with water. Lovey’s about to kick the bucket away then, she realizes it’s water. She puts her trunk down into the bucket and sprays the water across her back and then again into the bucket and quenches her thirst. She feels momentarily relieved and quiets.

Gaucho slowly and carefully unchains her ankles. By this time, many of the circus performers and all of the grunts are standing behind Gaucho. “Stay back, fools, get away from here while I take care of Lovey. Unless you want to be pummeled into the earth.” Gaucho waits for a few moments then give Lovey the trunk-up signal. Lovey becomes enraged and begins trumpeting loudly and stamps her feet. There’s a look of fire in her eyes, and it’s at that moment that Gaucho knows to get the hell out of the way and shouts.” Run, run.” He follows his own good advice just in time,

Lovey charges out of the van and begins running, running for her life. In her mind, she sees before her the golden savanna grasses being blown by the soft breeze and the cool water of the elephant water hole of her youth in the distance. She’s determined to reach it at any cost. She will run down anything that tries to prevent her from arriving there. She’s saving her life. Her instinct for self-preservation kicks in, and she runs full tilt, there’s no stopping her.

Everyone who has been watching her now disappears into the wind, not wanting to be trampled by this behemoth that has lost her mind. Someone has called the coffer, and he arrives just in time to see the elephant charging his jeep. He quickly reaches behind him to get his rifle and aims it at her head and pulls the trigger, and then again for good measure. Lovey keeps moving momentarily before the message gets to her brain that she’s dead. And then she drops to the ground, finally free, free to travel the land of her birth, among her tribe. She sees her beloved Ganesha, she feels love fill her huge heart and then peace. __________________________________

Corona Virus- April 11th, 2020

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Corona Virus- April 11th, 2020

I sat for two days trying to decide what to say about my experiences during the past week and come up with nothing. Early this morning at 4 AM,  I realized so many, many things happened that I hadn’t even been able to take it all in at all.

It begins with the fact that although I have always struggled with insomnia. I now have difficulty sleeping at all. I fall asleep exhausted at about 10 PM. I sleep for about one and a half hours and then wake up. It may take me two hours to fall back to sleep. My mind keeps going over and over all the nightmarish events that have happened that day, this past week. Sometimes I silently cry. If I do fall asleep again, I wake up every two hours and toss and turn. I finally wake up at about 4:30 AM for the day.

On a personal level, I was contacted by a family member and told that my brother-in-law had passed away. He lived in NJ. I live in NC, where we retired to three and a half years ago. I have known and love my brother-in-law Pat since I was about ten or eleven years old. He was married to my sister Jeanie. She passed away from emphysema in 1979.  She was forty-two. Pat was always kind and caring towards me for the entirety of my life. And when I was told he passed away, I didn’t let this sad news touch me. I sent out condolence cards. And then I  blocked it from my mind. In the past three years, I have lost my oldest brother, his wife, and my brother- law Jake.

I was told that there was only going to be a small funereal with ten or fewer people because of the danger of Corona Virus. Ten people to mourn a man who was a husband, father, grandfather, brother and uncle, friend to many. I was told maybe they would be having an Irish wake for Pat in the Fall.  I responded, “Oh, right, of course, that makes sense.”

I filed this bad news away far back in my mind, in the vault where I am keeping all my feelings now. All the fear, all the loss,  that I have no clue how to deal with it at any level. I didn’t tell anyone about my brother-in-law passing. Why?Bbecause all I hear, all that we hear all day are the numbers, big incomprehensible numbers of people that are dying in our state, in our country, in the world. It is impossible to comprehend, to digest. It is incomprehensible, completely overwhelming, and heartbreaking.

So, I lock it away, because I know that if I even think about it for even a minute, I will not be able to take one more step forward. I will be stuck in that moment, overwhelmed with fear and grief and loss. Anger is what I’m feeling right now. It is eating away at me, making me feel helpless and alone.

I have always been a person that deals with difficulties by looking at the problem, finding solutions, and then solving that problem. And now, I have no solutions. The problem is too big for me. I’m scared. I’m afraid of what the final outcome will be not just for me but for my family, our country, and the world. The loss of life already is devastating and hard to take in.

I worry about all the people who have lost loved ones or who will ultimately lose many people or might die themselves. I worry about the people who lost their jobs and don’t know when or if they will have jobs to go back to. I worry about how they will take care of their families with no income.

I worry about a country with a leader that thinks a couple of thousand dollars will take care of American families for the duration of this virus while giving big corporations billions.

I’m a person that has always looked around at my fellow humans and did what I could to help them. I continue to try and do that, but this problem is too big for me. I think we have to do everything we can to survive this and help the people around us when we can.

How this will end, I can not say. It will evolve. But I do know that significant changes will have to take place or we can not go on as we have in the past. Everything we do, every choice we make has consequences. How we treat our fellow man, how we pollute our planet.

Right now, in this moment, in this day, I will do the best that I can. I can not do more than that.

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Life Brings Joy and Happiness and Loss- These Things I Know To Be True

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During my life, I’ve been fortunate enough to experience many joyful events. I witnessed my older siblings get married and have fourteen beautiful children and watch them grow up. I loved each one of them.

I met and fell in love with the man with whom I have shared my entire adult life. I’ve given birth to my two daughters, Jeanette and Bridget. I was able to nurture and love them and teach them what I had learned during my life. I had the opportunity at thirty-six to attend college. My daughter’s learned it’s never too late to learn and grow in life. 

I lived in diverse and beautiful places. I grew up in the North East in New Jersey. I lived in Florida and California in the 1970s. I have retired to North Carolina.

In my work life, I had the opportunity to give back to my fellow man. I worked in social services with at-risk children who had an incarcerated parent. I worked with the Amache Program with Wilson Goode and Big Brothers/Big Sisters.

I worked as an Assistant Supervisor and houseparent at Ranch Hope in Alloway, NJ. to adolescent boys from inner cities including Camden, NJ.

I owned and operated two small businesses. Teaching art to children and adults in my art studios and making jewelry and selling it online.

Life offers us many opportunities, blessings, and challenges. We can grow from these experiences, or they can break us.

Life can be a smooth or unexpectantly bumpy and tumultuous path. We have to learn to navigate both.

There is an old but true expression. That into every life rain must fall.

When I was twenty- eight years old, my oldest sister Jeanie passed away. She was forty-two years old. She developed breathing difficulties when she was about twenty-seven years old. She was tested and diagnosed with a genetic disorder called alpha 1 antitrypsin disorder. It causes symptoms similar to emphysema. In that, it affects the lungs. She also had hemochromatosis, which is a blood disorder that causes a build-up on iron in the liver. That causes affects all your organs. It’s a disease that seems to affect people whose family’s origins are Celtic countries, such as Ireland, England, Scotland, and the Welsh.

Jeanie was sick for a long time. She was the bravest person I have ever known. Almost to the very end of her life, she maintained her sense of humor and her undaunting courage.

My sister’s death had a profound and lasting effect on myself and my entire family and her husband and two children, who were teenagers at the time. My mother and father were devastated by her death. My father seemed angry after she passed. He told me he was mad because no parent should outlive their child. 

I came back to New Jersey for the funeral. I knew she was very sick and had been for years. But I had never reconciled myself to the fact that she wouldn’t recover. Or the fact that she was going to die from this disease.

When my older brother Hugh called me and told me she had passed away, it was a harsh blow. One I had not prepared myself for in any way. I had lived away from home for over six years and hadn’t seen her.

Every day for a year after her death when I woke up, I thought about my sister, Jeanie.  I would never see her again. Every day this broke my heart anew. I would feel a wave of pain roll over me. And I would feel like I was drowning in that pain. Grief and regret were my companions. I regretted all the years that I had missed seeing her when I lived far away from her and my family. Years I could never recover. Opportunities lost. Every day for almost a year whenever I was alone, I would cry. When I was driving to work, I would have to pull over until I was able to get my emotions under control. I began having insomnia. I would awake in the middle of the night. And grief would wash over me like the tide.

About a year after my sister’s death, my husband graduated from college, and we moved back to New Jersey. I could see that my mother and father and siblings still felt my sister’s absence in some profound way.

But we each in our way started to carry on with our lives and move forward. My husband found a job. And we purchased our first home. We started a family. Somehow, we and anyone who loses a loved one must begin living their lives again.

Two years after my sister passed, I gave birth to my first child, and I named her Jeanette after my sister Jeanie. I could think of no finer gift to give my first child than to name her after my sister that I loved and admired so profoundly.

It has been forty years since my sister passed. And I and the rest of my siblings have endured the loss of my parents within eight months of one another.

My father died of lung cancer in 1986. And my mother had dementia, and congestive heart failure died eight months later. One of my nephews passed in 2001. My husband lost his father. He died from emphysema when he was only sixty-two. My mother-in-law died at ninety-two, but she suffered from Alzheimer’s for many years before she passed. It is a slow and painful death to watch.

My sister-in-law Mary Ann passed away two years ago. My oldest brother Hugh passed away a year ago last April. As did my dear brother-in-law Jake passed away last April, three days after my brother. I had known him since I was ten years old. He was the kindest, most generous person I ever met. Always willing to lend a helping hand.

So yes, we all know that life is fleeting. That none of us will live forever. But it’s a devastating loss when our loved one’s pass, our dear friends or god forbid one of our children, but it happens.

We must all carry on with our lives, taking each day one at a time. We must move forward and adjust to the loss. Our loved ones who passed would want nothing less than for us to go on living our lives to the fullest. And find our happiness once again.

POCKETS By Susan A. Culver

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I stand outside the red front door of my parent’s house for five minutes before I’m able to gather the courage to go inside. As I pull open the door a rush of memories of myself as a child, then a teenager in a Catholic school uniform and then as a young mother with my own children travel swiftly through my mind.

I walk through the front hallway, I’m once again reminded that the once bright yellow walls and lime green carpet are now dull and dirty from years of my father’s smoking. The air is stale and musty.

The house feels empty of life and filled with sorrow. I take a deep breath and go into the kitchen. I haven’t been in the house since my mother passed away three months earlier. She  suffered from dementia for the last five years of her life. Each day of her final journey had been marked by a new loss until finally there was nothing left but a mere whisper of the loving woman, she had been during her seventy-six years of life.

Only one week remains for me to clear out the house out before the new owners will arrive. I had put the difficult task of cleaning out my mother’s room off for as long as possible. I felt paralyzed with grief since her death.

I walk through the kitchen into the hall and slowly open her bedroom door. The room feels cold and empty. I look down at her bed, where she spent her final hours. There folded at the foot of the bed is the cream-colored afghan that I had crocheted for her while I was pregnant with my first child.

As I open her closet door a familiar fragrance fills the room. It’s my mother’s perfume Jean Nate’. The aroma surrounds me like my mother’s embrace.

I begin taking the well-worn house-dresses out of her closet, laying them across the bed. I don’t think anyone else will want the,m, but I can’t imagine throwing them away. Then I see a plastic clothing bag hanging in the back of the closet. I unzip it and find my mother’s favorite blue coat. The coat I made for her sixtieth birthday.

I  taught myself how to sew while I was in high school. At first, I made simple skirts and shifts and as my skills and confidence grew I made coats. The first coat was this blue one for my mother. She had encouraged me from the beginning of my journey with sewing as she had with everything I had attempted in my life. She would say softly, “You can do it, Susan, keep going you’re doing a wonderful job.”

When I finished the coat, I feet proud of it, I made of soft pale blue cashmere wool. I searched flea markets and vintage clothing shops until I had found the perfect buttons. They were mother-of-pearl shaped like roses, my mother’s favorite flower. I hand-bound the buttonholes and sewed the lining in place with tiny stitches.

She wore that coat every Sunday to Mass on the cold winter mornings for almost fifteen years. I offered to buy or make her a new coat, but she never wanted another one. Saying she didn’t want to wear anything else.

I held the coat in my arms close to my heart. It brought back so many memories of my mother.  The first time she wore it, I heard her telling all her lady friends, “My daughter made this for me. Look at this fine stitching and beautiful pearl buttons.”

I put the coat down on the bed and look through each pocket, making sure nothing is left inside. I find her rosary beads. The ones my father had made for her for their fiftieth wedding anniversary. The beads were handmade from dried roses and came all the way from County Cork in Ireland. Where my mother’s parents were born.

I found a slip of paper handwritten in fading ink with the names of all her children and their birthdays. At the bottom of the paper were the names Stephen and Gerard. My twin brother’s who only lived a few days. The children my parents never spoke about. But I knew my mother prayed for them every day of her life.

In the inside pocket, I found my mother’s prayer book. Its pages were worn thin from decades of use. As I pick up the prayer book, Holy Cards come tumbling out. I knelt down to pick them up.

Among the Holy Cards, I see a folded note. I carefully open it. The handwriting look familiar, I realize it’s my own. A note I wrote and placed inside the pocket of the coat when I gave it to my mother on her sixtieth birthday. I can see it has been read many times. It read, ” I made this coat for you my wonderful mother. Each stitch represents the love I received from you each day of my life. I hope it makes you feel as loved and protected as you always made me feel.

Love your daughter, Susan.”