MSA

Death

Posted on October 24, 2011 Written by Tonya

People don’t like to discuss death.

In many circles, the topic of death and dying is one of those taboo subjects, right up there with religion and politics, however, when it comes to death, there is no debate. Death is final and it is going to happen to all of us.

Death is the great unknown and thinking about our mortality makes us uncomfortable.

Death presumably can never affect us in a good way.

Death represents loss; loss of a loved one, loss of everything that we know.

Death is equated with fear; fear of losing someone and fear of how it will happen to us when it’s our time.

Death is a mystery and makes us question the unimaginable:

Will I go quickly?

Will I be in pain?

Will I see a white light?

Will I have done and said everything I need to when my time is up?

What kind of legacy am I leaving behind?

Will I go to heaven?

Will I ever see my loved ones again?

Will anyone attend my funeral?

How will I be remembered?

Trust me, death is far more than Elisabeth Kübler- Ross’ Five Stages of Grief.

I am convinced that if we talked about death more, if it wasn’t such an off limits subject, it wouldn’t be so scary or hard to face.

Having lost my parents at such a young age, theirs (60 and 58 respectively) and mine (35) and serving as the executor of their estate, I implore you to think about your wishes after you die and discuss them with your loved ones.

Openly.

Candidly.

Luckily, my parents did have a Will, but it had been created 28 years before they died and there were a lot of blanks and unanswered questions. With the help of many people I trusted, their estate is now closed, but it took the better part of three years.

Imagine my shock when I discovered on my father’s last “To Do” list a line item that read: Update Will. He thought he’d have time to revise it.

I also encourage you to talk to your aging parents and/or grandparents about their Last Will and Testaments in addition to their material possessions.

When my sister and I cleaned out my parents home, we separated the things we wanted from the things to be donated and the things to be sold through an estate sale, and still filled a 4′ x 30′ dumpster to the very top with junk. 16 years of paper mostly. My parents it seems were pack rats.

Death is no fun, but it is inevitable and the sooner we stop tip toeing around it, the better.

The Hole In My Heart

Posted on October 14, 2011 Written by Tonya

October used to mean feeling Fall in the air and spying Halloween merchandise on every aisle at the supermarket and being greeted by big shinny round pumpkins with glowing smiles on my neighbors front porches.

October meant the nights were getting longer and the air a little cooler. Not quite flannel jammies time, but close.

Conversations about how to spend Thanksgiving begin and Christmas shopping lists are started in October.

Now October has a new meaning.

In particular October 15, but the days leading up to it and the days preceding are tough too.

October 15 used to have no significance to me at all, just another day on the calendar.

Now it marks the anniversary of my parents’ death.

Today they have been gone for four years. 1460 days. It’s hard to believe it has been that long.

I dread the anniversary the most; more than their birthdays, more than Christmas, more than Mother’s Day, Father’s Day or their anniversary. The day I was notified my parents had died was the worst day and every October 15, I relive it. And every year I think it’s going to be a little easier, and it’s not.

I’ll never forgot sitting in my friend Suzy’s kitchen two weeks after the memorial service and watching her eyes fill with tears as she talked about her own father’s passing as if it happened the day before. He had died 30 years earlier.

In some ways this was strangely comforting to me; knowing I wasn’t alone in my grieve for a lost loved one and in other ways it made me even sadder than I already was. I realized this wasn’t something I was going to “get over”, I realized that death is as permanent as grieve and I would have to learn to live with this emptiness, the loss and the hole that was now forever in my heart.

I would have to live with the sadness each and every October and all the days in between.

Catalina Island, July 2005

One good thing occurred on October 15, 2008 on the one year anniversary, I told my sister I was six weeks pregnant with Lucas.

The Summer Of ’69

Posted on September 26, 2011 Written by Tonya

Every now and then I have an undeniable and almost desperate need to be with family, members of my parents family that is.

Specifically my father’s family.

I want to talk about my father, ask questions and hear anecdotes about when he was a boy, a young man, how he was as a brother, an uncle and a friend.

I want to remember and hear about him being alive.

Last weekend, my sister and I took Lucas to visit our aunt and uncle (my father’s middle brother). We haven’t seen one another since Lucas was four months old.

Since my father died, seeing my uncle David will always be bittersweet. The resemblance to my father is uncanny and their mannerisms are so similar. I loved witnessing my uncle interact with Lucas. His tone and actions are so much like I imagine my father’s would be had he lived to be a grandparent.

One of the highlights of this trip, aside from being with family, was seeing the church my parents were married in 42 years ago on August 23, 1969.

Luckily, my sister carries this photo with her in her wallet. This awful reproduction was taken with my phone and the photo was just what we needed to confirm the exact side of the church my newlywed parents must have exited through, as there are many!

What dreams did they have have for themselves and their future together at the moment this photo was taken. Were they scared? Confident in their choice of life partners? Nervous about the journey that lie ahead, or simply deliriously happy and in love? I hope it was a combination of all four.

Family history is so important. It not only tells us who we are and where we come from, but it helps us remember when we are sad and it is one of the main reasons that I write, so that Lucas may know his (and me) better.

Family history is preserved through our children.

Back To 1991

Posted on September 12, 2011 Written by Tonya

I was assigned my first e-mail address as a Freshman at the University of Arizona. It was 1991.

Professors were suppose to connect with their students regarding classes and assignments via electronic mail, but no one had a computer in those days. Students and faculty alike were meant to use the computer lab in a building several blocks from my dorm.

I can count on one hand how many times in my four years I attended college that I visited the computer lab.

All of my college papers were written on a Brother ML-500 Electronic Word Processing Typewriter. I thought I was so state of the art with my dozens of floppy disks.

My first encounter with the Internet was also in college, circa 1995. My boyfriend at the time had a desk top computer (talk about state of the art), a giant piece of machinery that took up the entire surface of his kitchen table. He even had a printer. He used an online communications system called Prodigy.

He boasted how he could “look up” anything and information would be provided right there on the screen in front of us. Sure enough, as soon as I blurted out “Madonna”, he printed out a one page biography of the controversy-making pop queen. I was astounded.

Fast forward to 2011 and you will find “248,000,000 results on ‘Madonna’ in 0.16 seconds.” on Google.

To say that times have changed is a gross understatement.

By 1996, I was on a computer every day at work, but had yet to experience the world wide web. I did have an AOL account and would go home on my lunch break to IM friends. It was amazing, just like having a phone conversation, but better and way more fun.

Five years later, my parents bought me my first lap top on which I spent hours on e-mail and on-line shopping. My favorite shopping cart at the time was at Amazon.com. Since 2001, I have made over 100 purchases on Amazon.com (of course they keep track).

Sharing this new technology with my father was for lack of a better word, sweet and amusing. He never quite accepted the concept that what you found on the Internet would remain there for you to recall another time and so he would print out everything. Having hard copies made him comfortable not to mention killed a lot of trees.

What I have found in my 15 years of Internet experience is that as long as you own a computer (or an iPhone) and have Internet access, virtually (pun intended) anything is possible.

The Internet is the best and arguably the evilest invention ever. Everything is available right at our finger tips.

Today we get our world news, entertainment and weather on line. We Tweet, Pin and Stumble. We order groceries, diapers and the latest fashions, we research, find support, self-diagnose, fall in love, plan a wedding, prepare for a baby, book an exotic vacation and connect with our entire high school graduating class, even if we never said a word to them in person. We play Scrabble with our neighbors and laugh out loud to videos of giggling babies, we download, upload, bookmark, backup and can hide away from the world if we choose.

It’s sad when you stop and think about it. With the Internet, the need for real human interaction is almost unnecessary.

Knowing what I know now, I wonder if I could go back to 1991. Could you?

This post is for Write On Edge’s weekly writing assignment RemembRED. This week’s prompt: recall those early memories of being online.

The Fine Art Of Relaxing

Posted on August 24, 2011 Written by Tonya

Never is it harder for me to relax than when someone asks me to.

I try. I really do, but it seems I wasn’t built with that gene.

A glass or two of wine certainly helps, as does a napping child, or a really great workout, but in large part I’m constantly in motion. I’d love to blame motherhood but the truth is, I’ve always been this way. I’m the most energetic person I know, a part from my son, of course.

I don’t know how to nap and hardly watch TV because I get too antsy. I piddle around the house late at night; organizing and reorganizing God knows what, making lists and perusing the Internet. Even writing, which has proven to be tremendously helpful, makes me anxious.

I’ve tried yoga and love it but find it difficult to stay focused and consistent with a practice. I’ve tried meditating, but always end up with a mind full of more things I think I need to do.

I drive myself nuts.

I drive my husband nuts.

I’m starting to see my wacky behavior in Lucas, which scares me. I’m hoping his intense energy level is due to his age, but he’s very very busy and thrives on moving from one activity to the next. The upside to teaching him how to relax is benefiting me as well.

I blame my father for my craziness. He was the same way, only worse! The man never sat down. With him, it was all about the next thing.

He hated dining out. As soon as the check arrived, he was reaching for his wallet and ready to head for the door. This was very frustrating growing up and even more so once I became an adult and wanted to have leisurely meals with him and talk about anything and everything.

Maybe with age or the strong urging of my mother, my father enjoyed collecting stamps and would spend hours cataloging his latest find. He would research the origin and delicately place his treasures in one of the dozens of binders that filled our entire guestroom closet. Those binders are full of the most exotic, colorful, beautiful stamps you have ever seen. Stamps he culled from all over the world. My father’s hobby helped calm him, helped him with the very fine art of relaxing.

Perhaps a mind numbing hobby would do the trick for me too?

What helps you relax? If you have a child, how are you teaching them to relax? If you blog, besides writing, what are your other hobbies?

My Wedding Day

Posted on August 19, 2011 Written by Tonya

I started participating in Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop over a year ago. My first entry was a post called Second Chances, in which I wrote about my wedding day.

I loved everything about that day at the time.

Now my memories are bittersweet because the day after my wedding was the last day I saw my parents alive.

Always up for a celebration, my parents thoroughly enjoyed my wedding day and were happy to see me happy. It was a day full of toasts and laughter, hugs and tears of joy. There was good conversation and sunshine. Todd and I were surrounded by all the people we love most in the world.

Given there were only 27 guests in attendance and we got married at our home, the photographer we hired was a sweaty annoying mess, darting from here to there desperate for subject matter.

I suppose I can’t really blame him and in fact, today I’m grateful to him for capturing so many beautiful shots of my mom and dad.

Candid, non-posed shots that I will treasure always.

And then there are these:

Linking up with Natalie’s Down the Aisle.

Even though she only asked for our favorite photo – singular, I hope you understand why I couldn’t pick just one.

Hand Me Downs

Posted on August 16, 2011 Written by Tonya

“Lucas, what would you like for lunch?”

“Mac ‘n’ cheese, please!”

“Okay, do you want to pick out a bowl?”

My mother attended West Texas State University in Canyon, Texas. Her best friend and roommate was named Brenda. My mother remarked more than once that Brenda’s sole purpose for attending college was to find a husband.

It was a different time in the early sixties.

My mother told me how Brenda would never go anywhere without full make-up on because as she would say, you just never know.

This drove my mother crazy.

I believe my mother had aspirations of working for the United Nations as a French translator. As it turned out she ended up getting married in college too.

Brenda actually went on at least one date with my father before my mother started dating him. She said that she knew from the moment she met him, that he was the man she’d marry. I love that.

I met Brenda on several occasions and she was lovely. She did marry while in college. Twice that I know of. She had three children. Her eldest was two years older than me, a boy. I got all of his hand me downs.

This meant I wore a lot of blue and red. I didn’t know the difference and my parents were struggling to make ends meet so they were grateful for the clothes.

My childhood room was decorated in blue and red as well and I had a lot of Raggedy Ann and Andy dolls.

Back in the 70’s, cartoon/television characters weren’t plastered all over everything like they are today, so the bowl and cup set I had with Raggedy Ann and Andy’s likeness were special, as were the Mickey Mouse spoon and fork.

My mother didn’t make a point of giving these to me, I simply found them one day in our kitchen long after I had outgrown them and decided to keep them. At the time, I wasn’t sure why.

Now I do.

I don’t have any of my old clothes that I wore as a toddler and certainly none of the hand me downs from Brenda’s son. I do have a few well loved, stuffing-coming-out-of-their-heads stuffed animals and baby dolls with terrible haircuts and an old Barbie case filled with Barbies and accessories, but none of that would I share with Lucas, so I’m happy I saved these dishes and can hand them down to him.

Hearing “I want the Raggedy Ann and Andy bowl, Mommy.” is music to my ears.

In The In Box

Posted on July 13, 2011 Written by Tonya

I spend a lot of time ~~trying to stay~~ staying up on my e-mail. And by that I mean, what we all do: respond, put off responding, organize into files or finding more satisfaction than is probably allowed by hitting the delete button.

If you’re a mom, a blogger and a Twitter addict, like me, I don’t have to tell you how downright daunting a full In Box can be. What with all the newsletters, blog subscriptions, blog comments and back and forth with family and friends, it’s enough to make your eyes pop right out of your head. And now, Twitter e-mails me responses to my Tweets (anyone know how to cancel that, by the way?) It’s all a bit too much for me some days.

Especially when I’ve neglected it.

I like for there to be less than 18 e-mails in my In Box, that way with the size I have my browser set to I can still see the very last one. It’s the last e-mail my father ever sent me.

Beyond 18 and his gets pushed down too far.

It’s not even a great e-mail.

The subject is sox and addresses but it was sent four days before he and my mother died so I will keep forever.

So strange that I’ll never receive another e-mail from my father, but there he is, in my In Box every day. Right there with Groupon notices, Vlog Talk Weekly Prompts and tips on how to get your toddler to eat more veggies.

Just knowing it’s there comforts me somehow.

Except when I forget about it and then upon discovering it, my brain malfunctions for half a second and leads me to believe it’s a new e-mail from him.

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I’m A Celebrity Look-Alike

Posted on June 21, 2011 Written by Tonya

My friend, Morgan from The Little Hen House is the mastermind behind the latest blog-hop and since I played along with I was a Senior Hottie and Rockin’ the Baby Bump, I thought why not?

Here is I’m a Celebrity Look-Alike… what do you think? See any resemblance?

My father used to mail me photos ripped out of magazines of Sigourney Weaver with her jawline, cheekbones or smile circled with a note attached saying something like, I see it, do you? or There’s definitely a resemblance, but you are much prettier. Aw…

I have one friend that has always told me that she thinks I look like Elizabeth Hurley.

Don’t laugh! I don’t see it either, however, I do appreciate the compliment.

Another friend makes Blake Lively comparisons.

I wish!

And recently, someone put a link on my Facebook wall saying Kate Middleton was my doppelganger.

Hmmm…. maybe? Maybe not. What do you think?

Do people tell you you look like someone famous? If so, link up here and join in on the fun, even if you think they’re crazy!

Speaking of crazy, this is my 600th post!

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A Fine Mess

Posted on May 2, 2011 Written by Tonya

I didn’t come undone.

I was in shock for sure and completely devastated, but I didn’t lose my shit.

I couldn’t.

I couldn’t come unglued.

I had a younger sister to consider.

I had a younger sister that had just lost her parents and if I thought I was too young at 35 to be going through this, she was definitely too young at 23.

Not to mention, there was so much to be done.

So many decisions that needed to be made right away. There were phone calls to make, e-mails to send, notes to take, questions to ask, the repatriation of their bodies, a funeral home to select, urns to chose, a service to prepare for, documents, signatures, lawyers, and then ultimately, homes to clear out and an estate to settle.

I didn’t make any of tough decisions alone. Thankfully, I had my husband and my sister by my side, but it still felt like I was the one in charge.

My emotions could wait.

I thought I could delay my grieving process just a little longer.

Of course, I was wrong, so….

Four days after the memorial service, I returned to work in search of normalcy. Almost a year later I quit my job and discovered a new normal all together.

In the year that followed my parents deaths, I exercised like a maniac, which made me feel stronger physically. It also created endorphins that made me feel better mentally. Today, I’m an endorphin junkie!

I talk about my loss with anyone that will listen in a honest and open way.

I seek help in the form of a grief counselor or a glass of wine at the end of a particularly rough day, but have never turned to antidepressants.

I work through and with my sadness.

I cry.

I go through photos and momentos and remember.

I write.

A lot.

I could have curled up in a little ball and shut the world out, I could have let this tragic loss break me, but I made a conscious decision not to. It hurt like hell, but I chose to put one foot in front of the other and just keep living.

Some may say I’ve pushed my grief aside in an effort to avoid it or that I have compartmentalized it; placing it neatly on a shelf to address at another time, but I assure you I DEAL with it every day. It’s always there.

It is definitely a long and arduous process but I have learned that I am stronger than I ever thought I could be and I am very proud of the way I have navigated through such uncharted territories, especially considering I became a mother right smack dab in the middle of it all.

This post is for The Red Dress Club’s writing assignment, RemebeRED. This week’s prompt was: Tell the story (without any trivialization or modesty) of something in your life that you are proud of.

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Death

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