Josh S.

 One of my classmates from Kindergarten thru High School passed away Friday, Jan 29.  Josh was so kind, energetic, and just a decent human.  We were never the best of friends, but we were never not friends.  It feels impossible to see him as anything but the child I knew...his blue eyes and blonde hair, typical 80's bowlish cut in a turtle neck.  

It's surreal that I'm at the point in life where I know more people dying than getting married or being born.  And to lose Josh...ugh, it's heartbreaking.

Rest in peace my dear friend, you are missed by so many.  My thoughts are with your family.

Outliving

Today is the day that marks the time in my life that I have officially lived longer than my father.  He passed away 78 days before his 40th birthday.  Feb. 22 is 78 days before my 40th birthday.

My older brother never made it to this date. 

Rest In Peace Grandpa

Today, a great man passed on.  He was my father's father, but the man who walked me down the aisle at my wedding as my own father should have, had he been alive.  My grandpa meant so much more to me than words can express.  I will eternally miss my grandpa, he was the only one I had.  I will remember him as the kindest man I ever knew.

He was the namesake of my father and brother, and now, the last of the Johns is gone.

This, on the day I lost my dog Riley, just 2 years ago.  Well, May 18, you take the greatest on this day, so thank you for peacefully taking my grandpa.  As was his belief, may he be reunited with his loved ones, but mostly his beloved wife, Eva.  May it be the glorious reunion he anticipated.

My grandpa suffered for a year from what we would later learn was cancer.  The fight is over, he won on his own terms. Rest In Peace, Grandpa.

20 Years Ago Today

Twenty years ago today I said good-bye to my father for the last time.  Officially, he will have passed away on July 24, 1994 just before one o'clock in the morning.  I said my final farewell the evening before in a sterile hospital room filled with family, no privacy for the matter.  I whispered "good bye"; I gave him a kiss on his lips.  He never responded.  I promptly walked out of the room and stood against the wall until I could no longer stand before sliding down the wall while crying.  A nurse passed by me and made some exclamation along the lines of "poor girl".  She asked me if I wanted a Popsicle.  I have spent many years wondering when my last real good-bye was, the responsive one anyway.  I do not even remember how many days my dad was comatose, but that last real good-bye would have been just before the coma.  I do not remember many of the gritty details anymore; it is probably a good thing.  The only good bye I have to remember was a kiss upon unresponsive lips. 

It was twenty years ago today that my Aunt Jo Ann offered to take my brothers and I to her home for food and rest.  I do not know why I said yes, but I did.  She took my older brother home while my younger brother and I went to her house.  That house...it has seen more tragedy than a home should.  I slept in my cousin Sara's room with her.  Sara, who passed away in that house in January this year, was so kind to me.  My junior by 9 years or so, she refused to let me sleep on the floor.  I would find out that following morning that my dad was gone as my aunt sat next to me on her sofa while gingerly giving me the news.  To be honest, I had known before she even said the words.

It was twenty years ago today that I realized my life would be different.  I had known this time was coming.  This death was from an illness that took its time and crept into my dad for years.  He was 39 when he died.  I knew it was coming.  Nevertheless, until the moment I kissed my dad good-bye, that very last time...it was just another day to get through.  That last time I left the hospital was when I knew things would never be the same.

It was twenty years ago today I said good-bye to him.  I do not know what my life would be like if he were still here.  There is no point in imagining it.  Regardless, it has been twenty years of missing the best parts about my dad.  It has been twenty years of consoling others while saying, "the pain never goes away, but it does get easier" because I actually know.  It has been twenty years of life moving on without him.

Appreciation

It's been some time since I've blogged anywhere. Not only am I finding it very hard to find the time to blog, but I just haven't wanted to do so. December has been a hard month. It started out with good people in the hospital and turned into a nightmare that has been overwhelming for everyone involved. My best friend since I was 5 years old lost her baby boy Wyatt on December 13th after he spent 33 wonderful weeks in his mother's womb. To make things even more dramatic for her family, her mom was in the hospital that weekend before with serious issues as well. In an odd twist, many other friends have been going to funerals all month. Even this month my mom experienced a double edged sword with a recent medical diagnosis. While we are happy she has a diagnosis, we are worried at the road she now must take. I can tell you that it makes me appreciate my Dano-Dano even at three in the morning during a crying fit. It makes me appreciate my friends and family. It makes me appreciate getting the chance to do things that many cannot do and that others take for granted.

Normally I'd use this time in my blog to vent, to share my feelings, and to get out of my head what ever it is that dwells there. But this time I'm not going to do so. I feel as though I will always remember the anger, sadness, guilt, lack of understanding, love for friends and family, and general hopelessness of this event for which I will eventually come to terms. Instead, I am going to end here to head over to Baby-Blog and write about a few things there. I will also leave here with the following poem. I read it shortly after my dad died and really liked it. It was read last night at Wyatt's memorial as well.

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there, I did not die.

Let the Jealousy Begin

I thought the 4 of us were napping together (me, Yadi, Bella, and Riley). In fact, when the phone rang to wake me the four of us were still snuggled in bed like one cozy happy family.

When I got out of bed I noticed some stuffed animal "residue" at the foot of the bed. It wasn't there when I went to lay down!



I decided to inspect further after seeing from afar, some disturbance in the nursery. I am sad to report that there is a sheep down. I repeat, WE HAVE A SHEEP DOWN! [Ok, so we really only have a sheep missing a hoof, excuse me for dramatizing]



I suspect this is a random act of violence. I placed the sheep in a low post on a shelf and I have what I suspect is a bored bulldog (aka Bella). The combination can be, and is obviously lethal.

I should have known, Bella is already competing for toys!

Farewell Pat

Often times I would look out the back door into the yard and see Riley standing at the fence. His giant head peering over letting out one bark after another. Knowing Riley the way I do, I always knew these as "hey, pay attention to me, I want you to pet me" barks. They were the same barks he gave to neighbor Terry (aka The Vegetarian).

These past few years though, Riley has split his neighborly barking among a few neighbors. One neighbor even gets Bella hopping around and eager to paw or bark for attention (as opposed to merely biting Riley's ankles). I had always thought that it was the neighbor dog Buddy, that runs along the fence with Bella that got her all wound, but it wasn't; it was that dog's owner, Pat that got them both so excited.

So it goes that I'd hear barking outside, I'd look, and there my two beloved children would be, barking at the fence. I'd see Pat wave finally, I'd send a wave back and go about my business while I watched him and his dog, along with my dogs hanging out at the fence. It was a little while later I learned that he made special trips to the fence with treats for my dogs.

Pat was a really great man who had a kind heart. It was Pat that knocked at my door to notify me that someone threw a rock through my car window. I saw Pat at least twice a day if not at my fence, always taking his dog Buddy for a walk.

I'm very heartbroken and sad about the death of a man I hardly knew. Perhaps I'm sad for my dogs who will never understand why their pal will never again be over for treat time at the fence. Perhaps I'm sad for Buddy who is now without his faithful master. Perhaps I'm sad for the entire neighborhood, as we've lost a really great person and neighbor.

Anyway it goes, I'm sad. January 25, 2010 -- Rest in Peace Pat, you were a great person.

Three Is My Lucky Number

They [whomever 'they' may be] say, deaths come in threes. Lots of things come in threes...wise men; Columbus' ships; witches of Eastwick...the list could really go on, in fact so much further than three! My point is that yesterday I found out about three famous deaths: Patrick Swayze, Darren Sutherland, and Jim Carroll. Patrick by cancer, Darren by suicide, and Jim by heart attack.

I thought about some of my own 'threes'...like how I need to take three Tylenol for this. When working in REVIT, I save after every three modifications I make. For some odd reason I only keep three of my drawing aides on my desk.

Then I got to thinking about something totally off track after seeing my drawing utensils. I thought about China. I don't like China. I won't buy goods made in China [there are a few exceptions you'll have to ask me about later].

And since I'm jumping all over the place with topics, I thought I should update you that I still haven't heard from Shane Brain. I did hear, through a Third Party, that he is at least alive. I don't know if I'm allowed to mention Third Party's name since technically I'm not allowed to talk to him. I've never been one to adhere strictly to rules I see as pointless, so, as you can obviously tell by reading, I still speak to Third Party.

You may have noticed how I pulled this whole blog back around to threes (three topics, Third Party...). So, now that I have you wrinkling your brow in confusion, I think this is where I will depart for the day! [Oh yea, another topic you should ask me about one day is my dislike for the celebration of Columbus, bastard Nazi]

Your words...
safety date: A person that accompanies you to a friend's or family event to give the appearance that you are seeing people and not isolated from society or to avoid being set up on blind dates by well-meaning friends.
pop hundies: To spend big bills, such as hundred-dollar bills.
#3: In relation to using the toilet, this refers to diarrhea. Alternately this can refer to a third type of bodily fluid, usually ejaculate.

Never Being Repaired

All of us will inevitably go through life with some terrible story that we will never forget until Alzheimer's or death. We'll each carry that story with us close to our hearts recalling every tiny detail as we remember them. It's hard to share those stories, for each time we tell them we realize how much we have forgotten, but we also recall how painful some of those details are to us. My story goes like this.

I was 15. My friend Kelly and I spent countless hours in her backyard escaping from reality. We knew everything about each other, that we were at least willing to share. As such, she knew how I wished my father dead. I did so nearly every day. I wanted him gone for the abuses he inflicted upon my brothers and my mother. Despite what I ever endured, it seemed nothing in comparison to my poor mom. She loved him so dearly, did she not see? Looking back from 15 years in the future, I now understand that she did see, and yet her love was unwavering. It is hard to not love someone when the love is there, even when that person breaks your heart continually. I will never say what I would have done in her situation, it is not for me to judge. I know what is considered the best decision, and it was tried but to no avail.

So it was a summer evening that my mom hurried over to Kelly's yard. Her face and eyes were red so I knew something was more serious than normal. It was this moment that I heard the first phrase that I would replay over and over in my head, "they say he has about 2 weeks left". I don't know that I said anything, how could I when the wind was knocked out of me. As soon as my mom was out of hearing range, Kelly said, "looks like you got your wish", yet other phrase I replay in my head. It's this phrase that haunts me to this very day. The phrase that has willed me to never use the word "hate" towards any individual, and the phrase that always makes me think wisely before any wishing is had.

I have to admit that I can't sufficiently recall the details of these two weeks at all. I had for some reason failed to believe that dad could die. He was the cat with nine proverbial lives. He'd lived through much worse. I saw him every day. Every day he lay in that damned hospital bed I would tell him about my daily adventures with Kelly. Surely he wasn't leaving.

At around 6 in the morning the phone rang. I answered at the same time my mom answered. I kept quiet, knowing I needed to hang up, but not wanting to sacrifice the knowledge of the call. The nurse told my mom that "he is slipping into a coma, perhaps having you here to talk to him will keep him from slipping too quickly, and if nothing else, your chance to say goodbye". It was only moments later that the four of us, mom, Dusty, Drew, and myself, were at the hospital, beside dad, who would never speak to us again.

Everyone told me how brave I had been, how it was difficult to go through this, and yet I was strong, not crying, not yielding to the stress. I needed to be strong for my mom, this was no time for faltering will. The reality was though, that it hadn't hit me yet. After a few days of enduring dad's coma, my aunt offered to take me and my brothers to her house for some sleep. I gladly accepted as I was exhausted and knew Drew wouldn't go without me. I walked into dad's room full of loved ones, walked passed the eyes watching me, and to dad's bedside. I looked at his yellowed face and leaned in to say "bye dad, love you". I gave him a kiss on his still lips. I will never forget the feeling of kissing someone and getting no response. It is the most unloved feeling I have ever known.

I don't recall leaving the room, but the next memories I have are of me sitting in the corridor outside his room crying for the first time. I have a memory of a nurse giving me a Popsicle. I know that Aunt JoAnne dropped Dusty off at home since that is where he wanted to be, while Drew and I chose to sleep at Aunt JoAnne's home. I awoke the next morning and was sat at the couch in the living room with Drew; Aunt Jo told us that our dad had died at 12:54 in the morning. I did not cry. I did not speak.

It was about 2 weeks after we buried my father when his dad, my grandpa, was over repairing the air conditioner. I was excited that I got to help! I couldn't wait to tell dad. I sat in his chair waiting for him to get home from work, and as time passed I thought he was running late. I walked to the window to peer out and saw his truck sitting in the drive way. It was this very moment that I finally understood that my dad was gone. He was never coming home, he would never hear my stories, he would never sit in his chair. I had my heart broken by him on many an occasion, but this time, it would never be repaired.

Cartoon Steph

I am super bitchy today, I almost feel as though the wind has been knocked out of me, as if I’ve been shoved to the floor and kicked around a bit. I want to talk about most of it so you’ll have to bear with me and endure a long and possibly boring blog. I will alternate the goods and bads.

I’ll start with bad…yesterday a coworker who shall remain nameless got some really bad news. I refuse to mention specifics of the news [I don’t gossip here] because it’s horrible and I can’t even imagine the sorrow. All you need to know is that when you hear your coworker that upset; you should realize how important people are.

A good thing, also relating to a coworker, is that Justin, my blog crush, recommended some bands I might like. One of these bands, Billy Talent, is coming to St. Louis in October. He sent the recommendation based on the fact that they play shows with a band I like Alexisonfire. Nice suggestion Justin, I thank you sincerely!

A crappy thing is that I glooped mustard all over my shirt at work, then proceeded to open my soda to have it explode all over my desk and pants. This of course is all part of the day where nothing seems to work. I can’t get my building model to behave how I would expect; it won’t mesh right for a finite element analysis, among other crappy ass things!

A good thing…for those of you that think I am too prepared [looking at you Christine], I managed to dig up another decent shirt to wear at work that is mustard-less and cola-less.

Now, I'm tired of crappy ass stuff so I am going to ignore how crabby and pissed off I am. I am going to ignore my rant on media. I am going to ignore my rant on people who think they are better than me. I am going to ignore my rant on people who ignore me. Instead I am going to show you a cartoonized version of myself that I think is adorable. It is a work in progress by Mike C. Should you feel compelled to make your very own cartoon version of me, please do so. I am very amused by the thought!


Before I go I want to send a quick thanks to Ironstef and Mike C. for dinner and a wonderful discussion of Skank Ham. I want to thank Becky for allowing us to come hang out in the pub (there really are few options in GC). I want to thank those people on Twitter to which I randomly/seldomly communicate; you all always seem to have a way to make me laugh or smile (though you probably don't know it you certainly deserve a thanks). You would be surprised how a quick step away from work and into some silly video, or even some smart article/blog can really just wake me up, clear my head, and get me back on course. If there is ever a way I could help you, I certainly hope you'd ask!

Word...
cubular: Anything that is "cool" in a "business-geek" office context; often used ironically. This is a term derived from "cubicle" and the surf-slang "tubular".

15 Years

Not feeling really bloggy today. Today marks the 15th anniversary of my dad's death. I have officially lived half of my life with and half of my life without my father.

Anything you can do to cheer me up would be greatly appreciated. Funny video? Magic tricks? Just a photo even might work.

Dad wouldn't want me to be sad, and he'd surely be trying to cheer me up in some way.

Anyway, try your best please.

Miss you daddy!
Miss you too Shane Brain! You've been deadly at making me laugh!

Word-
shine:

1. Jewelry. Bling.
2. To insult someone in front of other people.
In Use: Damn, that girl was shinin' on yo' ass and you didn't say nothin' to hit her ass back.

My Heart Is With You Ruben

Have you ever met someone that you know deserves everything wonderful the world could provide? The best smells you can think of, the best flavors imaginable, the best feelings you could encompass yourself with ... these things should belong to Ruben Aya-Welland and his beloved wife Kara (http://kayawelland.wordpress.com).

On July 13, 2009 at 10:30pm, Kara passed away.

Her heroic six year battle against a very rare cancer has come to an end. She was 36 years old. And we just celebrated our 14th wedding anniversary. -Ruben

If you pray, then pray for them, and if you don't, please just think of them. Good people always deserve so much more than they are given to work with, and yet they make the best of life in ways most of us may never understand.

My heart and thoughts are with you Ruben. The pain may never go away, but it gets easier. Know that you always have a friend in St. Louis!