My blog posts came to an abrupt halt, even though I was still writing, I had not posted what I was writing... I suddenly had two blogs going, I wasn't posting either set, and felt that what I was writing for me didn't fit any blog that I write, and I really don't want to start another blog, but felt the need to write what I felt... but, neither was fulfilling my purpose for this Write 31 Days challenge, but yet they both did.
I know that is a totally opposing statement. It doesn't make sense, but it is true. I was still writing my blog for art, crafts and fun, but not posting because I didn't feel well enough to edit pictures, or try to make sense of the order they should be presented or fight with Blogger with posting the pictures... something that I took for granted would be the easy part of the challenge for me... because to me, most of the time at least, I have a hard time writing...
But then, the words were flowing for me. My problem was that I was very sick, still having to work, since I just changed jobs (and probably the reason I got sick, new germs) so I had to be there, or thought that I had to be there...By the time I got home, I didn't feel like looking at pictures to edit, I didn't want to do much, I was totally exhausted, nearly to the point of being cross-eyed!
Since I have worked in this department at the college, every registration brings a round of illness. I am closely working with people and many are very sick but don't want to miss the opportunity to take the courses, so they come to school with a fever, coughing, sneezing, and... I get whatever they have. I get over that and boom!... we have another registration.
So, I thought I was good for another week or two, since our registration is October, but had not taken into consideration that I would be offered this job, and all of a sudden, I am working in proximity to new people, some of whom are ill, and boom! I'm sick. So I'm running around, trying to figure out what it is that I am supposed to do in this new part of the department, and I'm running 101° temp, using cleansing towels, spraying disinfectant, and hoping I can stay far enough from students to keep them from getting sick.
These seem petty worries, I know, in the grand scheme of things. I get sick, I get over it, and all is well. This time, it just hung on, I needed rest. All is well with the world.
Monday evening I got a call that my brother had passed away. It was with warning, he had been in the hospital with pneumonia, he wasn't responding to drugs, and he was failing.
I didn't get to go see him. I wanted to, but had been really sick, and totally exhausted, and I felt like if I went, I would spread the germs to everyone I got near. I don't think hospitals like people coming in coughing and sneezing to visit patients anyway. There is so much of a risk of contamination of other patients...I wish I could have felt different about going, but in the end, it was the right decision. I didn't go.
Monday evening.
I was pretty much in shock, even though this is the outcome that I expected. You tell yourself that you will be prepared, that you will know what to do and say for this occasion, and you just stand with your mouth open.
I immediately thought about what I wanted to say about my brother, that I probably have not ever said about him. And the words flowed. All of a sudden, I had a new subject, a whole different path to follow, and I shared this with the sisterhood in a group that I have joined... and the reaction was all positive, and loving. Write...
'Write from your deepest heart' was one of the quotes. I think that one is the one that I need to remember... Writing from the deepest place in your heart is where it needs to come from right now. It is a place that is in pain, but then again, it is in this calm state.
I wrote about my brother a bit before, I think, though I can't find the piece. I am pretty sure that I have mentioned him a few times in other blogs, and I guess I've posted a few pictures of him, though I hesitate to actually write about him... since he was always very private. He didn't want accolades, and he never wanted people to hold him up for any reason.
I thought about changing the series to just write about my brother, and as an extension, the whole family, but thought about it for a few days now, and it just doesn't seem right... that I change everything. I set out on a mission, I am going to complete that mission. So, I am going to write about him today, but only today... saying that with conviction is hard right now, I probably will mention again, but not write a whole article on him.
My brother Steve. The oldest of my siblings. He was born to my parents during WWII. My parents met when my father was transferred to the army base where my mother worked in the PX. They fell in love, and were sitting eating pecan pie and having milk when the news was broadcast that Pearl Harbor had been bombed. After this is when they decided to marry, quickly, since no one had a clue what would happen at that point.
My father was eventually transferred to Louisiana, not long after my brother Steve was born, and life was tough for my mother and brother. It was terribly hot, humid and such a long way from home. My mother was young, had a new baby that was sick a lot, and she missed her family, friends, and eventually my father when he went overseas. She took Steve and moved to live with her parents for the duration of the war.
When the war was over they settled down near where my father was from and two more siblings were born, all was right in the world, and they got along with my father working... but the promise of money and stable career saw another move for the family. Mom, Dad, and the three kids settled in a small town where my mother's sister and husband lived.
When I came along, my oldest brother was graduating High School, and he was soon off to SouthEast Asia. A task he never questioned. Steve went, with bravery and courage. The kind of courage and bravery that came from growing up with my father, who was adamant about being true to yourself and your country.
I remember when Steve got leave at Christmas one of the years he was away, he was so dashing in his uniform and he seemed larger than life. He taught me how to tie my shoes that visit... Somehow, he had the knack for tying shoes. Or maybe it was the knack for talking to you in a manner that made things look and seem right.
I had a lot of memories of my brother, but one seemed to be such a sweet thing now that I am grown and have had kids of my own. He was living in an apartment with one of his best friends from High School, William, they were both just kids, really, in their early 20s, they had this place together, a real bachelor pad it seemed. Steve was going to college and working at a local drive-in movie to earn enough money to pay tuition and rent, and have money to go out and woo women!
Most of all, I remember how much he enjoyed taking us to the movie, such a treat for us, and Steve borrowed his roommate's car to take us for a ride around Dallas. That was amazing! Riding in a convertible, was super fun, something new for us (my dad was old school and had very sensible vehicles) .
I had either a broken arm or had a cut hand, I can't remember which, since they were close around the same time, but I couldn't get my hand/arm wet, so my big brother helped me in the pool, held me so I could play around and not get my hand/arm wet. In the Texas summer heat, that was amazing,
A few years later, my brother married a wonderful woman he had met back home, who lived in a small town near our home. They had corresponded throughout his time overseas, and while they were both in college, and she seemed the perfect mate for him. She was brave and courageous just like him, loved the outdoors, cars and was very beautiful, inside and out.
Over the following years, I saw a lot and a little of him. He and his wife started having kids and with jobs, and they were both still pursuing higher education, we just didn't get together as often. But when our father passed away, he kind of took up the role as the father figure in the family. At least for me he did. When I started driving, he provided a car for me. Gave me a job for the Summer months, and a place to live. Taught me how to work on cars. It was nice to have some cash to spend, something to do, and I felt like I was learning a lot.
Surely Steve garnered a few extra gray hairs in the deal... But probably learned how to deal with his own girls from his experiences with me! His daughter was not much younger than me, and we kind of grew up 'together' but I went to college and got married and even though we got together some, it just wasn't enough. I felt like we were missing out on so much time.
My younger brother passed away just one month almost to the day before my husband, and I had my husband to lean on then...
This time around, when my big brother passed away, I don't have anyone that close to lean on. My kids are such a blessing, and are a support.
But I have to say, I have been so very much at peace today. It was a very long, trying day, but it seems that it is all part of the plan, and all is right in the world.
The preacher read the 23rd Psalms, Yea though I walk through the valley of death, I will fear no evil. I think that is very appropriate. I think that when we are faced with the evil, the fear itself sometimes, we should have courage because God is with us. God restores our soul and we are assured that we will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. That should, in itself, give us hope and comfort for what glory he is in now.
I know that is a totally opposing statement. It doesn't make sense, but it is true. I was still writing my blog for art, crafts and fun, but not posting because I didn't feel well enough to edit pictures, or try to make sense of the order they should be presented or fight with Blogger with posting the pictures... something that I took for granted would be the easy part of the challenge for me... because to me, most of the time at least, I have a hard time writing...
But then, the words were flowing for me. My problem was that I was very sick, still having to work, since I just changed jobs (and probably the reason I got sick, new germs) so I had to be there, or thought that I had to be there...By the time I got home, I didn't feel like looking at pictures to edit, I didn't want to do much, I was totally exhausted, nearly to the point of being cross-eyed!
Since I have worked in this department at the college, every registration brings a round of illness. I am closely working with people and many are very sick but don't want to miss the opportunity to take the courses, so they come to school with a fever, coughing, sneezing, and... I get whatever they have. I get over that and boom!... we have another registration.
So, I thought I was good for another week or two, since our registration is October, but had not taken into consideration that I would be offered this job, and all of a sudden, I am working in proximity to new people, some of whom are ill, and boom! I'm sick. So I'm running around, trying to figure out what it is that I am supposed to do in this new part of the department, and I'm running 101° temp, using cleansing towels, spraying disinfectant, and hoping I can stay far enough from students to keep them from getting sick.
These seem petty worries, I know, in the grand scheme of things. I get sick, I get over it, and all is well. This time, it just hung on, I needed rest. All is well with the world.
Monday evening I got a call that my brother had passed away. It was with warning, he had been in the hospital with pneumonia, he wasn't responding to drugs, and he was failing.
I didn't get to go see him. I wanted to, but had been really sick, and totally exhausted, and I felt like if I went, I would spread the germs to everyone I got near. I don't think hospitals like people coming in coughing and sneezing to visit patients anyway. There is so much of a risk of contamination of other patients...I wish I could have felt different about going, but in the end, it was the right decision. I didn't go.
Monday evening.
I was pretty much in shock, even though this is the outcome that I expected. You tell yourself that you will be prepared, that you will know what to do and say for this occasion, and you just stand with your mouth open.
I immediately thought about what I wanted to say about my brother, that I probably have not ever said about him. And the words flowed. All of a sudden, I had a new subject, a whole different path to follow, and I shared this with the sisterhood in a group that I have joined... and the reaction was all positive, and loving. Write...
'Write from your deepest heart' was one of the quotes. I think that one is the one that I need to remember... Writing from the deepest place in your heart is where it needs to come from right now. It is a place that is in pain, but then again, it is in this calm state.
I wrote about my brother a bit before, I think, though I can't find the piece. I am pretty sure that I have mentioned him a few times in other blogs, and I guess I've posted a few pictures of him, though I hesitate to actually write about him... since he was always very private. He didn't want accolades, and he never wanted people to hold him up for any reason.
I thought about changing the series to just write about my brother, and as an extension, the whole family, but thought about it for a few days now, and it just doesn't seem right... that I change everything. I set out on a mission, I am going to complete that mission. So, I am going to write about him today, but only today... saying that with conviction is hard right now, I probably will mention again, but not write a whole article on him.
My brother Steve. The oldest of my siblings. He was born to my parents during WWII. My parents met when my father was transferred to the army base where my mother worked in the PX. They fell in love, and were sitting eating pecan pie and having milk when the news was broadcast that Pearl Harbor had been bombed. After this is when they decided to marry, quickly, since no one had a clue what would happen at that point.
My father was eventually transferred to Louisiana, not long after my brother Steve was born, and life was tough for my mother and brother. It was terribly hot, humid and such a long way from home. My mother was young, had a new baby that was sick a lot, and she missed her family, friends, and eventually my father when he went overseas. She took Steve and moved to live with her parents for the duration of the war.
When the war was over they settled down near where my father was from and two more siblings were born, all was right in the world, and they got along with my father working... but the promise of money and stable career saw another move for the family. Mom, Dad, and the three kids settled in a small town where my mother's sister and husband lived.
When I came along, my oldest brother was graduating High School, and he was soon off to SouthEast Asia. A task he never questioned. Steve went, with bravery and courage. The kind of courage and bravery that came from growing up with my father, who was adamant about being true to yourself and your country.
I remember when Steve got leave at Christmas one of the years he was away, he was so dashing in his uniform and he seemed larger than life. He taught me how to tie my shoes that visit... Somehow, he had the knack for tying shoes. Or maybe it was the knack for talking to you in a manner that made things look and seem right.
I had a lot of memories of my brother, but one seemed to be such a sweet thing now that I am grown and have had kids of my own. He was living in an apartment with one of his best friends from High School, William, they were both just kids, really, in their early 20s, they had this place together, a real bachelor pad it seemed. Steve was going to college and working at a local drive-in movie to earn enough money to pay tuition and rent, and have money to go out and woo women!
Most of all, I remember how much he enjoyed taking us to the movie, such a treat for us, and Steve borrowed his roommate's car to take us for a ride around Dallas. That was amazing! Riding in a convertible, was super fun, something new for us (my dad was old school and had very sensible vehicles) .
I had either a broken arm or had a cut hand, I can't remember which, since they were close around the same time, but I couldn't get my hand/arm wet, so my big brother helped me in the pool, held me so I could play around and not get my hand/arm wet. In the Texas summer heat, that was amazing,
A few years later, my brother married a wonderful woman he had met back home, who lived in a small town near our home. They had corresponded throughout his time overseas, and while they were both in college, and she seemed the perfect mate for him. She was brave and courageous just like him, loved the outdoors, cars and was very beautiful, inside and out.
Over the following years, I saw a lot and a little of him. He and his wife started having kids and with jobs, and they were both still pursuing higher education, we just didn't get together as often. But when our father passed away, he kind of took up the role as the father figure in the family. At least for me he did. When I started driving, he provided a car for me. Gave me a job for the Summer months, and a place to live. Taught me how to work on cars. It was nice to have some cash to spend, something to do, and I felt like I was learning a lot.
Surely Steve garnered a few extra gray hairs in the deal... But probably learned how to deal with his own girls from his experiences with me! His daughter was not much younger than me, and we kind of grew up 'together' but I went to college and got married and even though we got together some, it just wasn't enough. I felt like we were missing out on so much time.
My younger brother passed away just one month almost to the day before my husband, and I had my husband to lean on then...
This time around, when my big brother passed away, I don't have anyone that close to lean on. My kids are such a blessing, and are a support.
But I have to say, I have been so very much at peace today. It was a very long, trying day, but it seems that it is all part of the plan, and all is right in the world.
The preacher read the 23rd Psalms, Yea though I walk through the valley of death, I will fear no evil. I think that is very appropriate. I think that when we are faced with the evil, the fear itself sometimes, we should have courage because God is with us. God restores our soul and we are assured that we will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. That should, in itself, give us hope and comfort for what glory he is in now.
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