In the last few weeks I've experienced the loss of an old friend and ex-stepmother. It's the most difficult time for those who were close to these passed souls. A time of tears, a time of sadness, a time of change. The awkward realization of a present void. Stopping yourself from picking up the phone and calling someone who will no longer answer at the other end. A half-empty bed, one less person at the dinner table and the deep searing pain of loss. Just getting through the day is the biggest challenge. The minutes drag only to remind you of your heartfelt grief, and time can't pass quickly enough. Quickly enough to get to a place of less pain, less sorrow and maybe a hint of something resembling happiness will come and quash the desperate pain that pierces your heart.
Five years ago I was feeling all this and more. Five years ago my husband died suddenly and I was left with a tidal wave of consuming emotions. I was forced to start a new life, but first I had to get through my grieving and sorrow. I didn't care about anything, not even myself. I just tried to get through the day and wanted time to pass more quickly so I could get to the other side of grief. Grief is similar to having the flu. The icky feeling never seems to go away and you can't wait to get over it so you can carry on with your life as usual. But "usual" after loss doesn't apply anymore. You are forced to start a new "usual", a new routine and a new life.
While I was trying to sort through all these profound emotions, I did have to take care of myself. I had to eat, sleep, bathe and dress myself. But each task required great effort on some days. One day I decided I needed to get out and maybe treat myself to some beautification. I went to see my hairdresser for a haircut and told her of my horrible news. She was floored and deeply sympathetic. And for once she was speechless. She was so kind to me and it was apparent that she wanted to do more for me, but like most people, she was helpless to my situation. As I was leaving to pay my bill I was talking to her at the reception desk. We were still discussing my news and another woman was at the counter and overhead our conversation. She interjected and told me to be good to myself. Good to myself? Yes. She, too, had lost her husband in recent years and fully understood my pain and grief. But she insisted that I treat myself to something that I normally wouldn't do for myself. She was probably 25 years my senior and had a kind face. She talked to me the way your favorite grandmother talked to you. It was endearing and coming from a stranger had meant more to me than hearing it from a close friend or relative. She was sincere and I felt the warmth in her voice. Her hand, decorated with a stunning wedding ring and signs of years of caring and cleaning, touched my hand as she offered her words of wisdom. At that moment I scheduled a massage for myself at the spa for the following week.
As I continued on my journey of grief and discovery, I also took care of myself. It was up to me to take care of myself. To go beyond the daily routines of being human and to indulge in a massage, a nice dinner at a new restaurant, a facial to exfoliate the pain from my face, to purchase a new outfit at a better department store and maybe to sleep in once in a while. A leisurely day of doing...nothing. Maybe a drive in the country or to visit an old friend. Just to take the time to pamper myself a little, a reminder that I deserve to feel good, even if only for a few minutes.
A stranger's kind words evoked a feeling of hope within me. Hope that one day I could truly enjoy and embrace the warmth of the sun on my face. Hope that one day sadness has been pushed out by contentment, and maybe a glimmer of happiness. Perhaps these words from this stranger meant more because she, too, had once been in my shoes. She understood the desperate pain that overcomes you when you're in the abyss of sorrow. She was a kind of kindred spirit and I will never forget her and her gesture of kindness.
To all my friends and family who are suffering now with grief and sorrow, please, be good to yourself.
Friday, February 15, 2013
Monday, February 11, 2013
Time To Heal, Time To Forgive
It's time to heal. Not a bruise or bump type of healing. Healing of the heart and mind. Time to mend some scars and let the past stay in the past. Last week my ex-stepmother died. No need to be sorry or sad for me. This was a woman who tortured my brother and me for 13 years. And got away with it, more or less.
My parents divorced when I was 5 years old, and my father remarried when I was 7 years old. At first she seemed nice and kind. But once the gold band was placed on her finger, that all changed. She humiliated us, spanked us, slapped us, washed out my mouth with soap for saying "Oh my God", continually insulted our mother, and was just plain mean to us. And without good reason. We were good kids, but we felt so alone. No one believed us, no one saw what she did, no one seemed to care. At least in the eyes of an innocent child. I was never disrespectful towards her nor sarcastic. But it made no difference how well behaved we were, she would still punish us. My father finally divorced her when I was 20 years old. By then the damage was done. But she was no longer my stepmother. Just a nightmare of my past.
She left a lot of scars. In some ways, she destroyed my childhood. The innocent years were no more. Sure, I can justify or find reason for her cruelty, but it doesn't take away the pain nor does it make it right. Whatever was hurting her and making her so angry against the world, was taken out on me, my brother, and even my stepbrother, her son. I'm sure she didn't think that what she was doing was wrong or harmful. But it was. In some small miniscule region of my heart I do feel for her, and I knew she was suffering from something painful, too. I don't know why she did what she did, but does it really matter? Two wrongs don't make a right, right? It's a domino effect. When someone hurts someone else, that pain can turn into anger and be inflicted upon someone else, and so on, and so on. And those people that have been hurt can affect others in other ways, too, besides abuse. It starts out as a small snowball and turns into an avalanche of pain and sadness.
She's dead now. I don't feel sad for her death. If she died lonely or miserable, it was her own doing. Help is always available. But I'm not a psychologist or counselor. I'm a victim of someone else's pain. And I have found it very difficult to forgive her. How do you forgive so much pain? Regardless if they knew what they were doing was wrong or not? Regardless of anything. How do you forgive? I don't want to be a victim anymore. I'm a survivor. Maybe now is the time to help others with similar stories and similar pain. Maybe now is the time to let sleeping dogs lie.
My parents divorced when I was 5 years old, and my father remarried when I was 7 years old. At first she seemed nice and kind. But once the gold band was placed on her finger, that all changed. She humiliated us, spanked us, slapped us, washed out my mouth with soap for saying "Oh my God", continually insulted our mother, and was just plain mean to us. And without good reason. We were good kids, but we felt so alone. No one believed us, no one saw what she did, no one seemed to care. At least in the eyes of an innocent child. I was never disrespectful towards her nor sarcastic. But it made no difference how well behaved we were, she would still punish us. My father finally divorced her when I was 20 years old. By then the damage was done. But she was no longer my stepmother. Just a nightmare of my past.
She left a lot of scars. In some ways, she destroyed my childhood. The innocent years were no more. Sure, I can justify or find reason for her cruelty, but it doesn't take away the pain nor does it make it right. Whatever was hurting her and making her so angry against the world, was taken out on me, my brother, and even my stepbrother, her son. I'm sure she didn't think that what she was doing was wrong or harmful. But it was. In some small miniscule region of my heart I do feel for her, and I knew she was suffering from something painful, too. I don't know why she did what she did, but does it really matter? Two wrongs don't make a right, right? It's a domino effect. When someone hurts someone else, that pain can turn into anger and be inflicted upon someone else, and so on, and so on. And those people that have been hurt can affect others in other ways, too, besides abuse. It starts out as a small snowball and turns into an avalanche of pain and sadness.
She's dead now. I don't feel sad for her death. If she died lonely or miserable, it was her own doing. Help is always available. But I'm not a psychologist or counselor. I'm a victim of someone else's pain. And I have found it very difficult to forgive her. How do you forgive so much pain? Regardless if they knew what they were doing was wrong or not? Regardless of anything. How do you forgive? I don't want to be a victim anymore. I'm a survivor. Maybe now is the time to help others with similar stories and similar pain. Maybe now is the time to let sleeping dogs lie.
Monday, February 4, 2013
Alive in our Hearts
It's so difficult to say goodbye to a loved one who has passed away. Regardless of how old they were, we never want to lose our loved ones. Whether they were 96 or 46, it's always too soon. A few days ago, many friends and family had to muster up the strength to do such a thing when Marla was laid to rest. Now Lombard has a void. A deep void. A long time resident, a teacher, a community helper, a student of life, a mother, a wife, a daughter and a dear friend is gone.
I was one of hundreds who paid their last respects last week at Marla's wake. Quite frankly, her name doesn't belong in that sentence. She was taken too young and too soon. As I stood in the receiving line, I became reacquainted with Marla. There were numerous collages of pictures of her throughout the funeral home. Each collage represented a different era in her shortened life. And in every picture was her infectious smile and radiating warmth. I even saw a childlike quality in those pictures. A quality that perhaps explains why so many people were drawn to her. I overheard several conversations in that funeral home, too. Many friends, old and new, were recalling good times with Marla; driving to work together when her car broke down and laughing about it was one of many stories shared that night. Other people remembered her smile. A smile that never seemed to leave her face.
Another close friend talked about how Marla was everyone's cheerleader. Whether you were going through a difficult time in your life or just lost a pound on a diet, Marla would cheer you on, encourage you and celebrate your victories. She was the epitomy of a good friend. I hadn't seen her in many years, but she clearly hadn't changed. A good thing for everyone who knew her.
Even though Marla is gone, (again, her name doesn't belong there) her legacy will live on through her family, friends, co-workers, students and neighbors. She left a deep footprint in the hearts of many, and through them, her memory will be kept alive for generations to come.
I found myself inspired by Marla and how she lived. So much so, that I've decided to become involved in volunteer work again. To give back, to help others and become more involved in my community. I want to become a little bit like Marla.
I was one of hundreds who paid their last respects last week at Marla's wake. Quite frankly, her name doesn't belong in that sentence. She was taken too young and too soon. As I stood in the receiving line, I became reacquainted with Marla. There were numerous collages of pictures of her throughout the funeral home. Each collage represented a different era in her shortened life. And in every picture was her infectious smile and radiating warmth. I even saw a childlike quality in those pictures. A quality that perhaps explains why so many people were drawn to her. I overheard several conversations in that funeral home, too. Many friends, old and new, were recalling good times with Marla; driving to work together when her car broke down and laughing about it was one of many stories shared that night. Other people remembered her smile. A smile that never seemed to leave her face.
Another close friend talked about how Marla was everyone's cheerleader. Whether you were going through a difficult time in your life or just lost a pound on a diet, Marla would cheer you on, encourage you and celebrate your victories. She was the epitomy of a good friend. I hadn't seen her in many years, but she clearly hadn't changed. A good thing for everyone who knew her.
Even though Marla is gone, (again, her name doesn't belong there) her legacy will live on through her family, friends, co-workers, students and neighbors. She left a deep footprint in the hearts of many, and through them, her memory will be kept alive for generations to come.
I found myself inspired by Marla and how she lived. So much so, that I've decided to become involved in volunteer work again. To give back, to help others and become more involved in my community. I want to become a little bit like Marla.
Monday, January 28, 2013
Do You Remember 1st Grade?
It's been a long weekend with the tragic news of losing our friend and classmate, Marla Fawell Fitzgerald. It's been a weekend of reflection and recalling memories of childhood. While doing my daily household chores and homework, I found myself thinking about Lincoln School, Mike's Meat Market, Henderson's, Dairy Queen and Lilacia Park. These are or were landmarks and popular businesses in my hometown of Lombard, IL.
Lombard is known as the "Lilac Village" and for a good reason! In the downtown area there is a 10 acre park that we know as Lilacia Park. It's a gorgeous park or large garden filled with my favorite flowers, lilacs. To this day I still visit this lovely park no matter where I live. And then next to the park is the Helen M. Plum Library. How many hours did we all spend there researching for high school papers or when we were little kids looking for our favorite Dr. Seuss books. I still remember going to a viewing of a Dracula movie at the library when I was about 8 years old, and it traumatized me!
Lincoln School. My favorite school, and I went to several schools in Lombard as we moved around a few times when I was young. It stood tall and had a presence about it. At least in the eyes of a little kid. I remember the large boulder in front of the school with all the names of veterans who died in WWI that were from Lombard. The school itself was architecturally interesting. It was built in 1914, so it looked nothing like any of the other schools in town. It stood three stories tall with wide staircases. There was a stage in the gym and an incernerator separate from the building with a tall smoke stack. I remember when they painted the walls in the school using the colorful palette of the 70s. Some walls were bright orange or green or purple. And as a young child it didn't seem right to paint this old structure such modern colors.
Lincoln School is where I met Marla and we became friends. We played in the large playground. I remember the swings, the two sets of crossing bars, the monkey bars and slides. We played "Mother May I", "Green Light, Red Light", statuemaker, girls chase the boys (my favorite!) and other games. I remember one year when the cicadas arrived and we would all hang out by the back wall and play with them. Today I can't stand the sound of them!
I can pretty much remember the names of all my teachers, particularly at Lincoln School. My first grade teacher was Mrs. Huzinger, then Mrs. Haugen for 2nd grade and finally Miss Furman (who later married and became Mrs. Hunter). I loved all them! I think Miss Furman was my favorite. When I was in 3rd grade I was seriously injured and was hospitalized for 2-3 weeks. Miss Furman came to visit me and gave me a handmade stuffed frog. I cherished that gift for many years. And I still remember receiving an envelope filled with handmade Get Well cards from all my classmates. I could probably name about half of my classmates from those grades; Laura Tyndall, Lisa Ladd, Mike Szudarski, Betina Woolensack, Neal Alexander, Craig Oddo, Debbie Raetzke, Madge Anders, Pam Nelson and of course, Marla.
This is only a handful of memories that I have of Lombard, and Marla. Please share your memories!
Lombard is known as the "Lilac Village" and for a good reason! In the downtown area there is a 10 acre park that we know as Lilacia Park. It's a gorgeous park or large garden filled with my favorite flowers, lilacs. To this day I still visit this lovely park no matter where I live. And then next to the park is the Helen M. Plum Library. How many hours did we all spend there researching for high school papers or when we were little kids looking for our favorite Dr. Seuss books. I still remember going to a viewing of a Dracula movie at the library when I was about 8 years old, and it traumatized me!
Lincoln School. My favorite school, and I went to several schools in Lombard as we moved around a few times when I was young. It stood tall and had a presence about it. At least in the eyes of a little kid. I remember the large boulder in front of the school with all the names of veterans who died in WWI that were from Lombard. The school itself was architecturally interesting. It was built in 1914, so it looked nothing like any of the other schools in town. It stood three stories tall with wide staircases. There was a stage in the gym and an incernerator separate from the building with a tall smoke stack. I remember when they painted the walls in the school using the colorful palette of the 70s. Some walls were bright orange or green or purple. And as a young child it didn't seem right to paint this old structure such modern colors.
Lincoln School is where I met Marla and we became friends. We played in the large playground. I remember the swings, the two sets of crossing bars, the monkey bars and slides. We played "Mother May I", "Green Light, Red Light", statuemaker, girls chase the boys (my favorite!) and other games. I remember one year when the cicadas arrived and we would all hang out by the back wall and play with them. Today I can't stand the sound of them!
I can pretty much remember the names of all my teachers, particularly at Lincoln School. My first grade teacher was Mrs. Huzinger, then Mrs. Haugen for 2nd grade and finally Miss Furman (who later married and became Mrs. Hunter). I loved all them! I think Miss Furman was my favorite. When I was in 3rd grade I was seriously injured and was hospitalized for 2-3 weeks. Miss Furman came to visit me and gave me a handmade stuffed frog. I cherished that gift for many years. And I still remember receiving an envelope filled with handmade Get Well cards from all my classmates. I could probably name about half of my classmates from those grades; Laura Tyndall, Lisa Ladd, Mike Szudarski, Betina Woolensack, Neal Alexander, Craig Oddo, Debbie Raetzke, Madge Anders, Pam Nelson and of course, Marla.
This is only a handful of memories that I have of Lombard, and Marla. Please share your memories!
Saturday, January 26, 2013
Goodbye Marla
Last night I was scrolling through Facebook when I learned about the untimely death of an old classmate. Marla. I was stunned by the news, and then deeply saddened. Tears welled up in my eyes as I tried to digest this shocking and unexpected news. Someone who I went to grammar school with, attended birthday parties with and played with in the school playground was no longer with us. It took me by surprise, as it did with other classmates.
I shared the news with my husband as I needed to tell someone, and he was surprised at how hard I was taking the news considering I hadn't seen this girl since high school, some 28 years ago. I was surprised, too. I thought about why it struck me so deeply and I concluded that it was because she was one of the few school friends that I had who never judged you and just wanted to have fun. She was easily likable, silly and always funny. She was someone who you couldn't think of a bad thing to say about.
I can still recall having a birthday party for my 8th birthday and Marla was there. She gave me a stack of coloring books for my birthday, and that's the only gift that I can remember from that birthday. I loved coloring books! And I even found a picture of her from that party. She even had an adorable face, an approachable face.
I suppose the other side to this news is that it happened to someone who's the same age as myself. She was only 46. I have found the 40s to be the best years of my life. I wonder if Marla did, too. I hope she was happily married with kids. And I think she loved her job, but I'm not sure what she did. I hope life was good to her.
I wish I could have had one last chance to see her and laugh with her. But it wasn't in the cards for us. I'm glad I did have her as a grade school friend. I smile when I think about those days. May God watch over her family and close friends as they say Goodbye Marla.
I shared the news with my husband as I needed to tell someone, and he was surprised at how hard I was taking the news considering I hadn't seen this girl since high school, some 28 years ago. I was surprised, too. I thought about why it struck me so deeply and I concluded that it was because she was one of the few school friends that I had who never judged you and just wanted to have fun. She was easily likable, silly and always funny. She was someone who you couldn't think of a bad thing to say about.
I can still recall having a birthday party for my 8th birthday and Marla was there. She gave me a stack of coloring books for my birthday, and that's the only gift that I can remember from that birthday. I loved coloring books! And I even found a picture of her from that party. She even had an adorable face, an approachable face.
I suppose the other side to this news is that it happened to someone who's the same age as myself. She was only 46. I have found the 40s to be the best years of my life. I wonder if Marla did, too. I hope she was happily married with kids. And I think she loved her job, but I'm not sure what she did. I hope life was good to her.
I wish I could have had one last chance to see her and laugh with her. But it wasn't in the cards for us. I'm glad I did have her as a grade school friend. I smile when I think about those days. May God watch over her family and close friends as they say Goodbye Marla.
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
The dreaded dental check up...
Today I went to see my friendly dentist. I called a few weeks ago because of a tooth that's been troubling me. A little senstive and it doesn't seem to like pretzels. So I go through the usual routine with x-rays, picking away the tartar and finally the cleaning. But while going through this immensely fun ordeal I learn that I have some issues, besides the senstive tooth. Apparently I'm suffering from some decalcifying of a few teeth or in layman's terms, my enamel is eroding. Bah!! And why, you ask is this happening to me? Too much pop! Or do you say soda? I guess one of my teeth, the one that is bothering me is really suffering from some scary eroding. And it's below the gumline! How is that possible! Not enough flossing I was told. Eek gads! So I quit smoking, which probably contributed to this new issue, and now I have to give up pop! Or at least drink water after I have a can of pop. So there goes all my vices! No more smoking, no more pop and no more no flossing! It's tough being human! And to make matters worse, I have to go back to the hygenist to have a little scraping done on the bad tooth. Hopefully that will be the end of it, but she had to throw out there that I may have to see a periodontist! Really? It's tough to be human. So to all my friends and fans with teeth, I plead with you to take care of them. Brush twice a day. Floss. And watch the pop! But now I may have a drink (containing alcohol) to ease the pain in my gums. Hey, I have a vice!
Monday, January 21, 2013
You Can't Be Both?
The other day my husband and I were driving home from running errands and we were at a stoplight where we spotted a bumper sticker that struck up quite the conversation between us. It said, "U Can't B Both: Catholic and Pro-Choice". Really? We talked about it and looked at it from different points of view, but we still found ourselves appauled! For me it was an insult to being an American, despite your religion. And furthermore the freedom to just be human with your own thoughts and opinions about things. Apparently not. So if you're Catholic, which I am not, would you be ex-communicated if you voiced your opinion about being Pro-Choice? Is your whole faith riding on that simple point? Does the Catholic religion share this view of the bumper sticker? OK, here comes the big question; why is this issue so important to people? Now, think about it. How does what a woman chooses to do with her body affect you? Why does everyone need to have an opinion on this, much less why does the government have the right to toy with our bodies? If it were men having abortions, would this still be an issue? Probably not. And I'm not riding on the high horse of feminism here, although I have strong feelings there. No. I'm just trying to figure out why everyone is in such an uproar over abortion! I'm not saying that I condone abortion. I don't think it should be a last resort form of contraception, but I surely don't believe that anyone should have the right to govern our bodies this way. If scientists and doctors can't agree on when a fetus is considered a human being, then why is this such an issue. There are cultures around the world where a baby isn't considered a human being until they're at least 2 years old! Yes! 2 years old!
But I digress. I guess to sum up my view, I believe abortion should be legal simply because whether or not it's legal, women will continue to get them. I would rather have them legal where doctors have to follow regulations and perform them under the best conditions, rather than have a woman go to a butcher and suffer the loss of two lives (depending on whether you believe a 4 week old fetus is a human being). It's simply too late to stop abortions altogether. But for someone to tell me that I can't be one faith and believe in Pro-Choice (which stands for more than abortion), well, sorry God, but I'll choose Pro-Choice.
But I digress. I guess to sum up my view, I believe abortion should be legal simply because whether or not it's legal, women will continue to get them. I would rather have them legal where doctors have to follow regulations and perform them under the best conditions, rather than have a woman go to a butcher and suffer the loss of two lives (depending on whether you believe a 4 week old fetus is a human being). It's simply too late to stop abortions altogether. But for someone to tell me that I can't be one faith and believe in Pro-Choice (which stands for more than abortion), well, sorry God, but I'll choose Pro-Choice.
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