Funeral For A Friend

This was a difficult week. I travelled back to Michigan to attend Diane's funeral. I was able to stay at Diane's parents' home and they made me feel (as they always have), that I am not a house guest, but a close family member. I was surprised repeatedly at how generous and open and wonderful the entire HUGE family is. This is what I feel family should be, if most of us weren't so caught up in past wrongs or current gossip. It is what I will strive to attain. Over the 30 years I've known them, I had never had the opportunity to live among them (sounds a bit Jane Goodall, but couldn't help it ;-)). It is only now that I understand what compelled Diane, her sister and their parents to move back to Michigan after living in California. It isn't the snow, or the weather, or the crappy roads... It's the people. And in this series of villages and townships, it is her entire family. Oh sure, there are Aunts & Uncles in Kansas and Florida (all of whom drove upward of 24 hours to attend), but my running gag for the week was that you couldn't throw a stone in any one of these places without hitting a relative. Every time we passed a place and someone remarked that, "Well ya know, that farm belongs to aunt..." or, "The person doing the sound is related by...", my only response was "Of course it is."

The one weird thing was that Aunt Helen, Liz (Diane's mom) and Terry (Diane's brother-in-law) all said repeatedly that I sound like Diane, or I remind them of Diane. I guess it was our similarities in sense of humor that kept us friends for so long, and it was bound to happen that our speech patterning and expressions would be similar.

I cried when I hugged Sue at the visitation. I cried when I hugged Diane's estranged husband as well, but not for the same reasons. I had such a tremendous anger built up toward him that I could no longer contain it. It was the last I will ever see or talk to him. That he could not, or would not see the value of Diane as a person, a mom, a wife, a sister, daughter, niece cousin and friend infuriates me. Her value to him was only as much as she could make him look good, and he truly had no idea who she really was. He will move on with his life, grieving in his own way. We all continue to live, but I have the joy of being able to share my grief with those who did really know Diane, and for that I am grateful.

I cried at the funeral service when Uncle Dan sang "On Eagle's Wings". It is one of my favorite church songs and fitting. I cried when Aunt Helen gave such a beautiful and touching eulogy. I also laughed during it, as she really did capture Diane's humor. I cried when Diane's youngest played "Amazing Grace" on his trumpet. I cried at the grave when he played "Taps". I avoided Cousin Julie because I just knew, and when I did finally talk to her and we hugged, I cried even more. I cried when the minister choked up and when I saw her dad cry. I cried when we touched down at SFO when I realized I will never hear Diane's voice again. I cried like a mess when I got home and was able to put my arms around Maria, and when I saw my kids again.



And now for the gratitude to all who lent a hand, an ear, a shoulder:
Maria - for being here for me, holding me when I cry, telling me it will get better, and whispering all the soothing things I need to hear. For loving me and giving me safe strength which allows me to do what I need to do. Also for missing me terribly and thinking I look beautiful even when I'm bawling my eyes out.
Brian - my ex brother-in-law and Diane's first boyfriend. He gave me companion passes for the airline so that I could afford to actually go.
Sandy - my sister. She picked up our folks at the port when they arrived from their cruise to Mexico (a job I was supposed to do, but couldn't).
Ron - my ex husband. He took The Boys an extra day, got them to where they needed to go and attended a band parent meeting in my place. He also gave me time with The Boys when I returned because I'd asked.
Nicole - my BFF. She took care of the cat, feeding and socializing with her so that the wrath I felt upon returning was minimal. She also agreed to be the backup in case The Oldest needed to be picked up from school.
Chaela - dear friend. She agreed to be the backup in case The Youngest needed to be picked up from school and hugged and cried with me.
Bill and Liz - Diane's parents - They welcomed me in as one of their own, insisted I walk in with and sit with the family, and even in their grief found time to catch up, chat, laugh and cry with me.
Aunt Pat - She loaned me her car, which allowed me to not have to rely upon another grieving family member to come get me.
Aunt Helen - she included me in the eulogy. (Yes, that also made me cry.)

Good-bye Dear Friend

This has been a particularly difficult week. My dear friend Diane has been battling cancer for over three years. Today she died. I was able to speak to her on Thursday, and after we said goodbye I cried for over two hours. I knew it was the very last time I would ever hear her voice. She knew it too. She was done fighting, her body was tired. It was her decision to not pursue further treatment, and Hospice was in this week to help care for her at the end of her life. Her family was around her, and her Mom and Sister were there this morning. I woke up around 5 because she came to me in my sleep - to say goodbye. When I woke up, I knew. This has happened before - my grandmother and great grandmother both said goodbye. It happens to my mom too. I waited for the phone call, and it was Diane's mom who made it. I saw the area code and she was her usual straightforward self, telling me how it went. I couldn't say more than to thank her for letting me know because I was too close to tears. She was too. I then let a few people know who had been asking about Diane lately. I imagine I will travel back there for the service.
I am actually happy for Diane, and sad for the rest of us. I will miss her laugh, and her wit, and her smile. She loved her family and friends, and didn't beat around the bush to let you know exactly how she felt. She was trying to live a happy and healthy life, which is all I'd ever wished for her.
I've known Diane for 30 years. We met around when the above photo was taken, in High School. We remained friends all this time, talking on the phone often about our lives, our loves, our kids, and our struggles. I was very fortunate to be able to go back to Michigan and visit her last year (where the two below photos were taken).

I've written about Diane multiple times on this blog. You can find it all in my first Wicked Wednesday Post, and Thoughtful Thursday posts here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, and here. Diane has also popped up in lots of other places here, which is what happens when you are a part of a person's life in a significant way. My hope is for her sons to know exactly how much she loved and adored them, and for her parents and sister to find comfort in each other and in the memories of her happiness. For the rest of us? Hug and love those around you now, for you may not have a tomorrow.

Local death

One of the reasons I have been off blog for a bit. The rest will come out in due time, but this had me sad.

My town's local homeless man was shot dead during an altercation with a female police officer.

I knew this person, and had written about him HERE. That initial photo is now a part of his RIP facebook page, as well as the local news cycle blog HERE. It is always sad when a member of our community is killed, or injured. Unfortunately, and what has made me even more sad is the commentary from otherwise reasonable people on the sides of "all homeless are worthless", and "the cops are crooked". None of that is what this is about. This is about two members of our community who were negatively impacted by an interaction. I'm sure it could have been handled in a better way by both parties so as not to have this result, and I actually miss seeing Daryl around town.

This guy gets it

I've quoted him before, but you just need to go read this now.

And to anyone who is feeling like an outsider, I say this to you:
You are NOT alone. We, the outsiders welcome you with open arms, homes and hearts. It is in the edges and the fringes you will find yourself. You will find your way, your life, your love. I want to be there when you do. I want you to be here when you can shake your head about those stupid kids you went to school with, and their narrow minded little lives. And I want you to be here to forgive them. At some point you will forgive them because your heart can hold only love and light and laughter.

How I spent my 43rd Birthday

July First marked my 43rd trip around the sun. And yes, I know the picture to the right is misleading. I do still look quite a bit like it - still have curly har, and now have many more freckles than 38 years ago. I don't think I would go back and tell my five-year-old self what to expect as she gets older. I want her to be just as surprised and full of awe and wonder as she can.
I most especially wouldn't tell her how heartbreaking it is to lose someone you love. How difficult it is to let go, and how painful it is to stand at an open grave on your birthday and say your final good-bye while people sing Happy Birthday to the one person in your family who shares your special day.
Some images from My Birthday:
Members of the Color Guard, preparing to present the flag:

What's left of Uncle Paul:

The view is very nice though:

It's been one of those weeks.

You know the ones - you try to smile and be cheerful, but are just slammed in the head and heart repeatedly.

I have friends who are facing serious health situations, life ending health situations.

BF - he's been battling cancer - esophageal, and now it's in his hip, ribs, spine and possibly lungs.
HH - she was breast cancer free for the past 2 years - this week she had a rod put in her spine because it has been weakened by cancer, which they found in her spine last week.
JC - a nearly 2 year old who received the news this week that his life expectancy due to Leigh Syndrome is around age 3. His family is trying to handle as best they can.
GG - went in for routine exam and is having bypass surgery today.
AZ - attended his funeral yesterday and he was 45.

All I can think is WTF. I am taking deep breaths, hugging my family extra long, and bawling my eyes out.

I did find out one piece of relieving news yesterday that the program The Boys attend is expanding to include all elementary grades. I won't have to stress about standard classrooms and environments for another 2 years - when The Oldest enters Junior High. By then, he will be ready. I'm also looking forward to teaching art to the older kids. We'll be working on 1 and 2 point perspective, negative space and life drawing. I've been wanting to do that for a while, but they are not topics for K-3rd graders. I'm sure we'll get in more ceramics, water colors, and dabble in photography.

Music Monday and RIP

While I was on vacation with my family, three notable people passed from this world into the next. I can only imagine the conversation they had at the pearly gates...

Firstly Al Ross, former boxer and the founder of Doggie Diner. I've been talking about Doggie Diner lately having just adopted a dashchund who resmbles the DD mascot, minus the chef's hat and bow tie.

Secondly Dixie Carter, actress and singer. I LOVED her character on Designing Women. She was one fireball of a woman, and will be missed:


Thirdly Meinhardt Raabe, actor and most well known as the Munchkin Coroner in The Wizard of Oz, and as Little Oscar, in the Oscar Meyer Weinermobile:


Rest in Peace to all.

Rest In Peace

So this month is really bad for my family and death. Many more of my ancestors have died in March than in any other month of the year. Just this month two of my uncles have died.

Uncle Steve died early in the month in Florida. He had recently been hospitalized after a fall and stroke. When I last talked to him (about a week before his death) he was souding great and happy, and back to his old self. Steve was originally from Hungary, and not an actual uncle, but he did adopt Pop Pop and Mom Kay in Key West and took care of them for many years while they also looked after him. He managed restaurants and bars and gave tours. He did NOT like Jimmy Buffett, and that was no secret. He was a phenominal dancer, had a regular's status at the 801, and loved his family (all of us). He was the uncle who helped raise many unruly, surly teens when their parents were at the end of their ropes. All of those teens are now responsible, loving adults many with their own families. We all owe Steve our gratitude and we will all miss him.

Uncle Paul fancied himself as an Uncle Buck. He came to our family when I was 11 and he married my Aunt. We did not always agree on politics or hot button issues, but he always respected my opinion, and was there for advice or encouragement. He served as a Marine during Vietnam, was a body builder in the 70's and knew Arnold Schwarzenegger. He was active in local politics and his church. He grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area, and even worked for my dad at one point before dating my Aunt. He suffered his own health setbacks, diabetes and on dialysis, a triple by-pass at Christmas, and on the list for a liver donor. He raised and trained dogs and loved the cats that my Aunt brought in from everywhere.

Tableau Tuesday

Found out yesterday that Uncle Steve passed away. He called everyone in his address book over the past 2 weeks, and I don't have any more of the story, and likely won't. I'll scan some photos of him and post them at a later date. I miss his Hungarian ass.
Some shots I took at and around sunrise on Sunday:

Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.

A funeral for a friend

The weekend (yes last weekend) soared by in a blur of Fudge and Irish Cream making, A Birthday Party for The Oldest and his best friend, which was really fun for almost all attendees, and will be shared more as I get my shit together. For those of you who know me IRL, you can stop laughing now...

Monday I was considering not attending the funeral. AJ was not a particularly close friend of mine, though I did think of her often, and she was one of the most kind hearted and generous people I've known. She was at one time, a very high powered executive in Silicon Valley, and also very down to earth. She'd had cancer, and been dying of it for the entire time I'd known her, and at age 47, lost that battle on December 12th. Her funeral mass was at St. Joseph's Cathedral in San Jose, and well attended. I was unable to stay for the reception, and on one hand was glad for that, but on the other I wish I could have stayed.
You see, AJ was a friend in a group that I've kind of fallen away from due to several factors, most of which could have been avoided or mended by me. It is my level of maturity (or lack there of) that has caused much of the falling away. I fairly sure all of our common friends would likely welcome my friendship again (and some have stuck with me despite all of the shit), but I really don't know if that is true. I also don't know if I am ready to open myself up to all of it again, revisit old wounds that are still painful, and risk losing dear, dear friends again. I am so scared in fact, that just typing this has me crying into my keyboard. Sometimes it takes the death of a loved one to open such doorways of opportunity. Do I let it shut quietly, or do I throw it open wide and just grow up already? I can't lick my wounds indefinitely, nor hide in the background. I think it's time for some New Year's reaching out and apologizing. Some of these relationships may restart, some may not, but none will if I just sit on my hands.
AJ wrote a poem that was printed in the memorial, as well as read at the service:

Something Good

Wouldn't this old world be better
If the folks we meet would say:
"I know something good about you,"
and then treat us just that way?
Wouldn't life be lots more sunny
If we praise good we see;
For there's such a lot of goodness
In the worst of you and me
Wouldn't it be nice to practice
Just this way of thinking, too;
"You know something good about me
I know something good about You."

I think she was on to something, and I'm here to say I know something good about you.
Merry Christmas to all!

au revoir et salut

Eartha Kitt died on Christmas Day. This makes me sad to know the population lost a tremendously talented woman. Though the thought of her and Miriam Makeba together in Heaven makes me smile.
For your viewing and listening pleasure:

Uncle Jack

Originally posted 9/2, and the final installment of "from the other blog".

My Grandfather Frank on the Left, and Uncle Jack on the right.

My dad's Uncle Jack died on Friday. In his prime, he was a Merchant Marine working the SF bay. He was 6'8" and 300+ lbs. of solid muscle. Uncle Jack is Irish, as is that side of my family, and his full name was John L. Sullivan. My Great Grandmother named both sons after famous people. My Grandfather's middle name was Xavier, after Xavier Cugat. Today is the Rosary and Viewing, and tomorrow is the funeral. Thursday is the burial, and sometime this week will be the wake. Uncle Jack was the last left of his generation in my family, and now there is only one generation ahead of mine. I am lucky that my folks are still around and young, and relatively healthy. Even though I was not especially close to Uncle Jack, I will miss him. My dad looks like a smaller version of Jack, and has picked up Jack's penchant for jokes. I'll be posting more as time and memory serve, but here is one:

An Irish woman marries young and has 10 children. After the 10th, her husband dies. She marries another Irishman and has 10 more children. She passes away shortly after the 20th child is born. At her grave site, the priest looks down to the graves, and says (in a brogue), "Aye, at least they'll be together now". The husband is enraged, and says, "Oy, now what's that to mean? Surely I gave that woman the last good years of her life!" To which the priest replies, "I'm not talkin' bout her and her first husband, I was talking about her legs."

I miss you Uncle Jack.