Being Wrapped in Kindness

Never regret being kind

Anniversaries of personal tragedy are the hardest days for me.  The first year or the fifteenth year anniversary—time does not change the depth of grieving for the death of someone beloved.

It does not matter what day this grief hits me.

The anniversary day or any day, any year, remembering hits me.

This is Bill when he was in high school with his horse, Sonny

December 12, 1999 was the day my youngest brother Bill died, at age 44.  It was 11:30 at night, Sunday night.  His fiancée had phoned from Louisiana that afternoon at 2 PM to tell me that Bill was very ill and would be going into surgery to correct problems from a surgery done earlier that week. 

Very serious.  Septicemia.  Doctor says….

The rest of the day was spent in pacing around the house, calling the nurses’ station, pacing some more.  Until 11:30 that night.

On December 12, 2009, I sat, watching my granddaughters play.  The youngest, four year-old Sunshine noticed how quiet I was and how sad my face seemed.  She climbed up on my lap and asked in her little sweet voice if I was sick. 

I told her about my brother and how he had “gone to heaven” ten years ago.  Sunshine listened solemnly and nodded.  She knew about heaven since their dog Shelby had recently gone there, too.

“Well then, Grandma.  I’ll hold you 'til you feel better.”  Then she settled into my arms, laid her head upon my shoulder, and soaked love into my very being. 

I have never been given such a kind gift like this before, or since.

Who is cuddling whom?

Lucky mommy with 5 yr. old daughter!

This is a repost from 2009. It is 2020, eleven years ago. Sunshine is now 14+, taller than I am.  I could sit on her lap, but instead she curls up to me. I am blessed.

Q is for...Quest

Do you remember any New Year’s Eves when you toasted the old year by saying, “Man! I am sooo glad that one is over!” ?

My worst year?  1999.  No doubt about it, that was the worst year on so many levels.  My 44 year old brother Bill died Dec. 12, 1999.  His death took my breath, my heart, and my sense of balance away from me. 

When we toasted the new Millennium, I was choked with tears, and wished I could have somehow saved Bill with the knowledge I now possessed.

Still, it was the holidays.  As a large group, we and my husband’s family went to see “Galaxy Quest”, just recently released.  The theatre darkened, and the popcorn & soda were going fast.

Suddenly, I was taken out of my blackness into this alien world with Tim Allen, Alan Rickman, Tony Shalhoub, Sam Rockwell, and Sigourney Weaver.  Their lives as actors on a defunct TV show, “Galaxy Quest”, had not gone well since its cancellation in 1968 or something.  They made their living by hitting SciFi conventions and even attending ribbon-cutting ceremonies at dinky electronics stores.

Faithful fans like Justin Long believed in the reality of the Galaxy Quest world. 

In the dark theatre, I laughed until tears ran down my face.  Strange how laughter and crying are so close in their physical resemblances.  But, I laughed, rolling in laughter.

Q is for…Quest, Galaxy Quest.  For me, the brave crew and I made a quantum leap together that day.

Sources used for this post:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:GalaxyQuestCast.JPG

http://1linereview.blogspot.com/2011/03/galaxy-quest-1999.html 

My Secret Desire

My brother Bill with 'Sonny'

I have always been a secret cowboy, yes.  In my mind, I am riding a white Andalusia horse across the golden hills of Santa Barbara.  I would be young again, with long chestnut hair; my horse would fly across the golden land, and we would never stop.  Yes, that is my dream.

In reality, the only ‘horses’ I have ridden with any success are on the carousel at the fair or the ponies who miserably plod around in a circle. 

My brother Bill was a real cowboy; he bought a two year old quarter horse when he was in high school. When he became an adult (well, he grew to adult size, anyway), he lived in Texas and had several horses.  He even talked like a Texan.

My brother, Bill, in 1992

I came home from college one weekend after Bill had gotten ‘Sonny’.  He asked, “Wanta ride ‘im?” Sensing no subterfuge, I eagerly climbed up, and held the reins the way I remembered from my pony-riding days.  I even make that click-click sound, the one I’d heard in all the cowboy shows ever made.

Sonny took off, and I mean he took off like a rocket.  As he headed up the road, Bill’s laughter filled the air.  I was hanging on for my very life, and he was laughing. 

When Sonny finally stopped after going a quarter mile (I swear), I jumped down, and lead the blasted animal back home.  I didn’t sit for two days. 

My red boots next to my spinning wheel, things I have collected

I will never ever ride a horse again, I think.  I don’t want to hurt something that may not heal.  So instead, I bought something that will have to substitute: red cowboy boots.

Yup, pardner.  I may never fly across the plains on my white horse, but I will strut like nobody’s business in my red cowboy boots.