Thanksgiving started on Monday of “Thanksgiving Week” for me this year. I help in the kitchen at The Crossing and on Monday we cooked about 80 corn muffins with celery and onion already chopped up in them so the dressing would cook without any of us worrying about whether the onion and celery would be done. Christi prepared two turkeys that were donated and she prepared her basting consisting of orange zest, mandarin oranges, orange juice and I really don’t know the rest. All I know is that I cut both of my thumbs while “zesting”. Ed really got a kick out of that and, you know, you shouldn’t make fun because guess what? He cut one of his fingers. Oh well, so we’re old and we have accidents. If you’re wondering, no there was not any blood or lost band aides in the food.
Tuesday we finished the meal. We had Turkey, dressing, gravy, mashed potatoes, green beans, corn, rolls, and Jonathan and I made “little Turkeys” for dessert. I melted chocolate and heavy cream and dipped Oreo cookies into the mixture. Jonathan did most of the decorating of the cookies—candy corn went around the edge, a yellow candy disc in the center with a red jelley bean for the nose and we made “eyes” with the chocolate. Jonathan said he never wants to see another candy corn!
Wednesday, I rested! I had to, I couldn’t walk. My feet hurt when I stand too long.
Thursday, Christi and Jonathan went with me to assisted living to eat lunch with my dad. He didn’t feel very well but he sure cleaned his plate and ate his piece of cheesecake. The food was good and everyone seemed to have a good time. A lady was at the table next to us and she went ahead and ate her lunch, but her family never showed up. To me that was so sad. The funny thing was that she told us that she and another lady had had a fight over my dad and when she left, she leaned over to him and said, Bye Honey.
Friday, was Thanksgiving over at Christi’s. I have to confess that she is a marvelous cook! Turkey, dressing, corn casserole, broccoli casserole, sweet potato casserole, mashed potatoes with fresh green onions mixed in (fresh from Leon’s garden the night before), rolls, sweet tea, coffee, pumpkin pie, coconut pie, pecan pie, and egg custard pie made especially for Scott’s mother. Kila brought a strawberry dessert and her famous pretzels wrapped with bacon. Jonathan made the potatoes and two of the pies. He is really getting good. Alex joined us, which also included Ed, Kila, Reba Underwood, Scott, Christi, and Jonathan. I missed Christopher, but he was working!!!! Scott took him a plate to his work.
I really enjoyed Thanksgiving this year, but I have to admit I miss Charles and my mother. I know they are both in a better place, but this year I had a harder time with it than last year. Maybe it’s the realization they are really, really gone. The good thing is that one day I’ll see them again!
DR
11/26/11
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Monday, November 14, 2011
Family
I’ve been thinking a lot about family lately. On my dad’s side, there is no one left but me and my daughter. Everyone is gone. I can’t imagine how he must feel outliving everyone in his family, including his wife. My dad grew up without a father. He was two years old when his dad died from TB. His 22 year old sister also died from TB and he really never knew her either. I grew up with no brothers or sisters and I swore I would have more than one child—well, that didn’t happen and so I have only one daughter.
My mother was the oldest of 13 children. Now, there are only 6 left. After my grandfather died, it seemed that the family never got together again. My grandmother died when she was 88 years old, but she didn’t seem to want everyone together. There were times when she didn’t even speak to my mother. They had a disagreement about something and my grandmother had a tendency to hold a grudge for a long time.
My husband, Charles, has 4 daughters and after his divorce from his first wife, they were all older and never really had anything to do with him. When he first got sick in 1996, I really didn’t know if I should even call them. My mother told me, he is their dad and they need to know—so I did. One daughter started coming to see him almost every year and then when he went on hospice she came down and seemed to act strange. When she got home she wrote him several emails that were so horrible—how he was such a terrible dad. Charles never got over those emails and never mentioned them to her. The youngest daughter drove here from Florida to ask her dad to forgive her for never getting to know him. They both cried. All 4 daughters came to his funeral, how I wished they had come together to see him before he died. The one who wrote the emails told me that they didn’t want people to talk about them if they didn’t show up for the funeral. It’s funny how people think.
Now my dad is in assisted living—if you can call it “living.” He’s in diapers now. He can barely walk some days. Sometimes we can carry on a pretty good conversation, which is better than I could with my mother. He couldn’t accept that my mother was sick. I knew she was but never in a million years would I think that when I brought her to my house she would be here less than 24 hours. She had fallen—not broken a hip—but couldn’t walk. She had Alzheimer’s/dementia and usually didn’t know many people. That evening she knew everyone and kept saying how thankful she was that I had brought her “home.” She visited with 2 of her sisters, some nieces and nephews, and my cousin brought Charles downstairs to see her. He was in a wheelchair then. He rolled right up to her and she said, Hi Charles, how have you been? My mother ate her last meal of fried chicken, gravey, creamed potatoes, homemade biscuits and ate another biscuit and gravey before she went to sleep. She never woke up the next morning. Two weeks later my husband died.
Family—what does that word mean to you? I sit here all alone and most of my family is gone. Thank goodness I have a daughter who means the world to me, but she’s not here in this empty house with me.
I thought I was the only one with a dysfunctional family—but I have learned a lot in the past few years. There’s a lot of you out there. Brothers and sisters who hate each other, sons and daughters that seem to hate their parents.
I go to assisted living and some of those poor people have nobody. Yes, it’s hard for me to see my dad like that and I usually cry all the way back home.
This Thanksgiving what are you thankful for? Are you thankful for your family, or are you holding grudges against some of them?
I see a lot of people on Facebook telling daily what they are thankful for, but are you really thankful? Life is short. You’re only a breath away from eternity. I’ve seen it and I know. This year, call somebody and tell them you love them. Better yet, go see them. Go visit a nursing home and then you can truly see how thankful you are that you have good health.
Family—how is yours?
DR
11/14/11
My mother was the oldest of 13 children. Now, there are only 6 left. After my grandfather died, it seemed that the family never got together again. My grandmother died when she was 88 years old, but she didn’t seem to want everyone together. There were times when she didn’t even speak to my mother. They had a disagreement about something and my grandmother had a tendency to hold a grudge for a long time.
My husband, Charles, has 4 daughters and after his divorce from his first wife, they were all older and never really had anything to do with him. When he first got sick in 1996, I really didn’t know if I should even call them. My mother told me, he is their dad and they need to know—so I did. One daughter started coming to see him almost every year and then when he went on hospice she came down and seemed to act strange. When she got home she wrote him several emails that were so horrible—how he was such a terrible dad. Charles never got over those emails and never mentioned them to her. The youngest daughter drove here from Florida to ask her dad to forgive her for never getting to know him. They both cried. All 4 daughters came to his funeral, how I wished they had come together to see him before he died. The one who wrote the emails told me that they didn’t want people to talk about them if they didn’t show up for the funeral. It’s funny how people think.
Now my dad is in assisted living—if you can call it “living.” He’s in diapers now. He can barely walk some days. Sometimes we can carry on a pretty good conversation, which is better than I could with my mother. He couldn’t accept that my mother was sick. I knew she was but never in a million years would I think that when I brought her to my house she would be here less than 24 hours. She had fallen—not broken a hip—but couldn’t walk. She had Alzheimer’s/dementia and usually didn’t know many people. That evening she knew everyone and kept saying how thankful she was that I had brought her “home.” She visited with 2 of her sisters, some nieces and nephews, and my cousin brought Charles downstairs to see her. He was in a wheelchair then. He rolled right up to her and she said, Hi Charles, how have you been? My mother ate her last meal of fried chicken, gravey, creamed potatoes, homemade biscuits and ate another biscuit and gravey before she went to sleep. She never woke up the next morning. Two weeks later my husband died.
Family—what does that word mean to you? I sit here all alone and most of my family is gone. Thank goodness I have a daughter who means the world to me, but she’s not here in this empty house with me.
I thought I was the only one with a dysfunctional family—but I have learned a lot in the past few years. There’s a lot of you out there. Brothers and sisters who hate each other, sons and daughters that seem to hate their parents.
I go to assisted living and some of those poor people have nobody. Yes, it’s hard for me to see my dad like that and I usually cry all the way back home.
This Thanksgiving what are you thankful for? Are you thankful for your family, or are you holding grudges against some of them?
I see a lot of people on Facebook telling daily what they are thankful for, but are you really thankful? Life is short. You’re only a breath away from eternity. I’ve seen it and I know. This year, call somebody and tell them you love them. Better yet, go see them. Go visit a nursing home and then you can truly see how thankful you are that you have good health.
Family—how is yours?
DR
11/14/11
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Riley
Riley was my mother’s youngest brother, and he was three years younger than me. My mother was the oldest of 12, well 13 if you want to be really accurate. One brother died right after he was born.
After my mother was living in assisted living, I would go over and sometimes a plaque would be off the wall. I would ask her why and she would say that, well you know Riley lives upstairs and he took it off and I don’t know why. Well, Riley was guilty of many things while she was there and she never knew why he did those things. The good part is that he was always there visiting her. You need to know that Riley did not live there and he did not do any of those things and I guess I will never know who did, but I find comfort in that she was never lonely. I know she loved Riley.
I have picked Riley to talk about today because he got killed by a car two years ago today—his 61st birthday. What a shock to all of us. I could never tell my mother or my dad about Riley. My dad had all of his senses, but he could never accept that my mother didn’t and I knew that he would tell her and I didn’t want her to get upset. I’m sure my mother was surprised when she entered heaven and there stood Riley. I miss my mother, but I’m glad that she’s with her mother, dad, some of her sisters and brothers and of course my Charles.
Happy Birthday Riley—you’re missed.
DR
11/9/11
Monday, November 7, 2011
Things You Think About…..
It’s funny how your mind wanders, and all of a sudden a memory comes flooding back
to you. I was just getting ready to go
out and was putting on my cologne and suddenly thought about a conversation I
had with Charles years ago. I told him
that someone told me that I always smell good.
I asked him if he had noticed and he said, you just always smell like
Diane. That was a compliment from
him. When I thought about that, I had to
smile. I miss him.
DR
11/7/11
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