Stranger Than Fiction

My Grampy and Grammy have been divorced for 30 years. Grammy holds a strong grudge that has been placated by my family, allowing her to ignore his existence. My Grampy and wife (of 30 years) Alice, were my mother's main support during months of treatment and ultimately her death in 2003. I learned tonight my Grampy is struggling with health issues. Here we go again.

Photo Journal

Strawberry picking with the Westford Play Group

"I'm making lunch for Daddy."

This is what can happen when I go upstairs for five minutes.

Pre-Grieving?

My family Buster and Sharon have been emptying Grammy's apartment. As Grammy won't be returning it needs to be cleaned out by the end of June. I am especially grateful to Sharon for sorting and setting aside personal treasures. Tonight I looked through some of what has been set aside for me. There are photographs, cards and letters she had received and letters she had written but weren't sent. After picking up a frame with Sam and Mae's school pictures from last year, I realized how difficult Buster and Sharon's task is. They are sorting through Grammy's personal things, as one must do when a relative dies, yet she is still with us. My husband best articulates the situation: Going through belongings of the deceased allows for closure and healing. We aren't ready for closure while she still has stories to tell, questions to ask, "I love you" to say, and the ability to enjoy simple pleasures we can offer her.

I Have An Idea For A Book

I'm thinking about writing a book using the 57 messages my Grammy has left on my Uncle Buster's answering machine. If nothing else, it would be something beautiful to share with my family. The recordings range from "I want Pam to have the cookie jar..." to, "I'm getting weaker Buster, I don't know how much longer I'll be here." There is one that starts with "I love you Buster. Be a good boy so we can hold hands again someday upstairs." Some messages are funny, some are sad, and they are all worth keeping because she's Grammy.
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Grammy woke Friday morning feeling frightened that her hour was up and wanted us to come. I went. When we first learned of her tumor I wondered if she would die Motercycle Week.
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Motorcycle Week in Laconia started this weekend. When I was a kid, it was Motercyle Weekend. Streaking was in then, I was four or five and saw a naked man for the first time. I thought it looked like men had patches of mushrooms growing between their legs. My Uncle Buster told me some wild stories about the early years of Motorcycle Weekend. He was there the year Marshal Law was declared. That tale is best told by him.
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Today is Sunday and she is still with us. I spent 10 hours pampering her yesterday. For myself I want more hours. For her I hope she finds the peace she seeks.

The Swimming Hole

Memorable Summer Moments

I think about my kids having a conversation one day of their happiest memories from the Deweybarn. This moment would be one of mine.

I'm 40!

So many updates, my profile needs revising. I am 40, we now have one goat instead of two, and I have another job. After wife and mother, my next favorite is being a Passion Parties consultant, doing in-home parties selling sensual products for women.

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My friends and family used my new job to lure me into a surprise birthday party. I spent a good deal of time yesterday afternoon picking out products to demonstrate, loading batteries, and planning my introduction for a party at Mary's house. Those buggers! They successfully surprised me and I had a wonderful time!