RSS Feed

Tag Archives: Death

When you need an “adultier adult”

I’m a firm believer that life gives you darkness to balance out the light. Sometimes, you have to create some levity and lightness to balance out the dark. I love “silver linings” and often try hard to find the humor in tough situations. Sometimes that humor is self deprecating, sometimes it’s wildly inappropriate, but humor carries us thought the tough moments and brings us forward.

A couple of days ago, the little was scheduled for surgery, but we had to cancel because she got strep. It just seemed like it was too close and I didn’t want her having to fight of the trails of a virus and a surgery. The surgery has been pushed out. Since she was cleared to go back to school, and I still had the day off, I spent much of the day doing nice things. Yes, I dropped off goodies to the school, but I also used some gift cards to get my nails done and grab a big, calorie indulgent Starbucks. I was in full “treat yo’self” mode, but had no funds to do so. I was however, armed with gift cards, so I was making my own fun. Being a mom, getting time to relax and have little luxuries are a big treat. As I sat in the parking lot, joyously luxuriating in the car with my Starbucks drink and protein box, perusing my phone while I munched happily away, something caught my eye. It was thin, and black, and it was sticking out of the gear shift. Upon a second glance, I saw more than one of these long, thin black things sticking out.

A spider, otherwise known by it’s fancy name, “ohshititsabigbastardofaspiderinmygearshiftandifitslegsarethatbighowbigisitsbodyohsweetbabyjesusgetmeoutofthecar”. A spider with the longest, thick black fluttery legs was hiding in my gear shift! Coffee, cucumbers, and other object launched as I screamed loudly and flailed about the car.

I’m not a big fan of spiders. I mean, they are ok, I suppose, but I don’t prefer they get up close and personal.

In my mid-flail and holler, I saw the shocked but bemused face of a woman in the car next to me. She was eyeing the chaos occurring in the car next to her, and honestly I can’t fault her. It must have been h.i.l.a.r.i.o.u.s.

So there I am, flailing frantically and squealing, because the legs on this spider are HUUUUGE. Suddenly, I peer closer, and I see many more legs. Is the spider upside down with just it’s legs out? What is happening? I fearfully look over, and realize there are more than 8 legs. Is it having relations upside down with another spider? Do I have spider kink in my car? Oh GOD what if it’s making babies in my car? I look closer. Now, as I’ve gotten older, my eyesight is less that stellar. I own it. I bend down, as close as I am comfortable with, and I realize exactly what it is I am witnessing.

It’s….it’s…..a fake eyelash. I sort of remember my husband driving us home after a party one night and me, after a few drinks, thinking how HEAVY those false eyelashes felt, so I peeled them off. I then forgot them in the car. It had moved it’s way over to the gear shift and stuck itself to it.

I looked at the woman in the car next to me, mouthed “it’s ok!! It’s ok!! It’s just an eyelash!” and waved the offending lash her way. She looked bemused, and I sheepishly drove off.

Yesterday, I picked up my little from school and passed the boy child walking home with his friend from the bus stop. After a while, he still wasn’t home, so I messaged him, and he responded asking me to come outside. Apparently, a bird had flown down, almost landing on him except he ducked a bit, and the bird landed on the ground next to him. The bird sat on the road, just looking around. My son was concerned a car might come, and was trying to sort of shoo the bird to the sidewalk. I walked over and my son explained the situation. “You ARE a handsome bird, aren’t you?” I bent down and said to the bird. The bird NODDED. In my own head, for just a moment, I felt like a character in Harry Potter. “Does this bird speak English?” I pondered for a moment, before realizing I was an idiot. I stood up in surprise at the bird’s seeming agreement to my question. I shuffled a tiny bit closer, and bent down again, thinking the bird would instinctively move over towards the sidewalk. It didn’t. It eventually moved a few inches, but appeared to limp a little bit. I send my daughter to grab my phone and a box so I could call a friend who does rescue to find out what to do. My son, his friend and I admired the bird, but you could tell we were all a bit worried. Suddenly, something changed. The bird started flailing, and the only way I can effectively describe it was it appeared to have a massive seizure. It might have had a stroke. I panicked, and wasn’t sure what to do. It then sort of tipped forward, it’s beak in a bit of snow. “Is it drinking?” my son asked. His friend and I looked at each other. My daughter appeared. Clearly, the bird had just passed away in front of us. We somehow all felt a connection to this bird, and nobody wanted to leave him in the road. I was concentrating on not crying.

Now, let me say that I am not great with death. For all the studying, the research, the talking about it…it still unsettles me. It’s even worse with animals for some reason. I didn’t really grow up around death, and my parents shielded me from it. I’ve always been bad with animals dying in particular. As a kid I would get overwhelmingly upset if an animal died. I also get very anxious touching dead things. I now had to find a way to pick up the dead bird and make some decisions. I immediately looked for an adult to help. I then realized…I was the adult.

Isn’t that THE WORST? The moment when you look frantically for an adult, and realize YOU are the adult, and you now have to man/woman up and handle something you have NO desire to be in charge of? I decided to look for a taller, adultier adult, who knew would to do with a poor little bird who had chosen a little boy to land right next to, seize and then die in front of. I was out of luck, until my son’s friend took the reigns. I was never so grateful for a 6 foot tall 12 year old to save the day. “I can see you look really sad. I can help pick the bird up if you get a shovel. I’ll get him in the box, and us kids can bury him”. And that’s what happened.

The kids proudly dug a grave and buried the little bird with love and dignity. They even gave him a name.

Albirdo.

When I heard that, I had to excuse myself and go to the bathroom…to laugh my ass off. I couldn’t have picked a better name. I was proud of them for looking after the little bird, and also for giving him such a great little name.

We came in the house, and I sent the little upstairs to go get ready for her gymnastics class and overnight with her aunties. I sat down to handle the flood of work I had to do after a day spent in meetings, when I suddenly heard a panicked scream. I raced upstairs and saw my little covered in blood. Blood on her naked torso, blood on her hands, and I almost passed out. While clearly there aren’t many things I am good with, spiders, death etc, I’m also not good with blood. After doing a quick scan to find the source, I saw it was her nose. She gets monsterous nosebleeds, so I set about starting to help her stop the bleeding and calm her down. Something about lots of blood makes my blood pressure go wonky, which often makes me get dizzy or lightheaded. I’m trying to stop the blood so I can hold myself together and do the mom thing I’m supposed to do. My daughter is upset, because it seems like it’s always her who has the maladies….teeth issues, tonsil issues, nosebleeds, strabismus, and a host of other things. I get it. I’m giving her a pep talk that I’m pretty proud of and suddenly realize she’s handing me wads of blood soaked tissues. I almost over. I finally get her nosebleed under control and pep talk her to a smile. I clean up all the blood and go lay in my room to do a silent scream of freaked outness. I also feel like this adulting business kind of sucks. Before I know it, I’m giggling at my own ridiculousness. I guess no matter how old I get, there are moments when I search for an adult, even though I myself am an adult. Maybe an adultier-adult who is in a better position to navigate things. I mentally pat myself on the back for not passing out, and not bursting into a flood of tears over the poor little bird with my kids standing in front of me. I also realize that I’m the same woman who thought my fake eyelash was a monster spider, and it’s clear, perhaps someone should assign an adultier adult to help me on the regular.

Advertisements

Medium Left Me Cold

After losing some of the most important people in my life, for a while, I became pretty interested in death. I suppose everyone has their coping methods, and mine was to learn about death. It felt like if I could get a grasp on it, talk about, and learn about it, perhaps I would and could fear it a little less. The end result was that I learned it’s not death I fear so much, but the loss of hope and losing the loved ones I hold so dear to me. I think a lot of people, when faced with death, follow up with the question…what, if anything happens next? Are our loved ones’ energies still around somehow? Are there ghosts? Why do ghosts always seem to be from the Victorian era, and not Bobby the crack head from around the block? Are ghosts and spirits real? Or are they just a figment of our imagination we use as a coping mechanism? Can we somehow communicate with the deceased, or they with us? Or, when you die, is that just…it? End of story?

Last year, I started looking into self proclaimed psychic mediums. I was curious what they had to say, and whether any appeared to be legit. I saw one who did some readings online, and started paying attention to see whether he was on point, or whether he was cold reading. If you’re not familiar with cold reading, take some time to look it up. It’s a bit of an art form, and once you know what it is, it becomes easier to spot. Cold reading is when a person can sit with someone and effectively throws out statements and questions, common names, letters, and other info to try to “pull in” the person sitting. Usually the person or people sitting WANT to believe, often because they have recently lost someone close to them and want to get some message or closure. For example, someone professing to speak to spirits may do a group reading, and say…”I am seeing an older woman, and I am getting an “M” name. Mary? Maggie? Marie?” Now an audience with older people in it have pretty good odds that their parents, aunts, grandparents or great grandparents may have passed away, and all of those names are common. Usually someone will acknowledge the connection, and say “yes, my grandmother’s name was Mary!” Now the reader has a target. “She is telling me she is very proud of you. You do so much for others!” The reader, hearing flattery, is likely hooked in at this point, agreeing they do much for others. The reader may then make generalized statements about ‘Mary’ that could apply to just about anyone, before saying “I see a male energy, he is pretty quiet though”. At this point, this male energy could be anyone, and is open to interpretation. Any info by the sitter to the reader can lead them on to the next piece of info. Hits are celebrated and focused on, misses are brushed aside and occasional excuses are made “hmm, not sure who that could be, but she is definitely telling me something about a man with the letter G. Think about it.” Often times, the person getting the reading begins to fill in the blanks. This makes it easier on the reader, and they can then use that info to play into. Cold reading is a bit of an art form, but with the help of an audience that is already pre-programmed to believe, it usually isn’t all that hard.

I started watching a medium who does readings online, usually in groups. The messages are often prefaced by implying that those watching should see how the message may be relevant to their lives. He makes general statements, and the viewers dive right in. I watched as people feed him info without meaning to. The saddest are those who are determined any info that may come up is from their loved one, even when the statements are incredibly general. It becomes inherently clear that people want to believe and will do so at all costs. I’ve watching him read for people I know, and while one person raved that he gave them specific, detailed validations, the others I watched were full of sweeping statements that the person determined MUST be a message for them. When a medium says…”I am seeing someone pointing to their chest…as they may have died from a heart issue or a lung issue” it doesn’t escape me that 2 of the number one killers are heart attacks and lung cancer. With statistics as they are, the person is bound to get a hit. I can spot the cold read, but then again, I’m familiar with it and looking for it.

I dove in and scheduled a reading with a psychic medium that came highly recommended a few months ago. I was admittedly curious, as the person who recommended them has a close tie to me, and the meeting they had with him had info that was so specific, it caught my ear. Even information on the spacing of writing on a headstone was mentioned, as well as info that one could certainly link to my mom. I scheduled a video conference with him, and settled in. As someone who is inherently familiar with cold reading, I was cautious to listen intently, but not really provide a ton of information. I felt comfortable that my social media was locked down, so there was no way to garner much info about me online. I didn’t offer up details or much, just confirmed what was applicable, denied what wasn’t. The reading, sadly, didn’t really go anywhere. Without me offering details, I found he really struggled to give me much info at all. Honestly, though, the guy was really pleasant, and I felt a bit bad he was so stumped. He didn’t even charge me for the reading.

Now, before you say “well, maybe nobody came through” let me assure you….anyone who knew my mother knows if there was a tiny sliver of a way she could reach out to me, she WOULD. My mother believed in an afterlife. I think that’s part of the reason I believe some of the things I do. When my mom died on the operating table and had to be resuscitated, she told me a story after of what she had seen, that she had asked for proof of such, and we found the proof existed. After she died, I had a lot of strange electrical things happen, and it followed me from place to place. It became so bizarre that I have no doubt if she was able to communicate in any way, she would.

This leads me to today. I saw a discussion online about psychic mediums and a medium came up as HIGHLY recommended. I admit, my curiosity was peaked. As a birthday gift to myself, I made an appointment. At the very least, I figured, I’d be entertained. Best case scenario, I might get a hell of a birthday gift. Before I went, I spoke out loud my plan to the universe, and felt, if my mom was able to hear me, that I gave a few “keywords” I would be looking for. I walked in, sat down, and met the medium, who was, honestly, extremely sweet and lovely. Again, I had oodles of people who had said how “spot on” she was during their readings with them.

We started off with small chat about the weather, and suddenly, she delved right in about an older female energy. I decided to offer a bit of info, and acknowledged that could be my grandmother. She mentioned strife between my mother and my grandmother. I advised the two were actually very close. She then turned to my mom and said…so how are things with you and your mom? What’s going on there? I paused, unsure how to answer that question, which I think she took to perhaps mean an affirmative. I’m hearing that something is going on with you and your mom now, what would that be? I said “not much, I mean, she passed away”. “of course, I am seeing her now” she responded. Already, I was seeing that this wasn’t going to go very well. She said my mother always tried to look her best and dress nicely (don’t MOST women do that?). She said my mother was proud of me (doesn’t every child hope to hear that?) She kept asking me about a letter name, but it was nothing related to me. I explained I had a friend who passed with the same letter, but not that name. “He is telling me you were such a good friend. You always had things to laugh about”. Well, don’t most friends have things to laugh about? (Aren’t most friends kind to each other?) I didn’t offer up much info about my friend and she quickly left the topic. Back to my family it went, without saying much. “Your mom says you are very independent, very busy, always on the go” “You did things your own way”. These type of general, sweeping statements could apply to anyone. I was feeling defeated. This is just SO bad. I tried to offer a lead her way “I am wondering about a very random object in the dining room, as my mom would be very, very clear about it” I said, to which she paused, trying to clearly figure out what on earth I could be referencing, before switching topics.

She made a lot of statements, all of which were flattering, somewhat vague, or statistically plausible. None sparked me. In fact, while I tried to keep a straight face, inside I was dying. This was going just SO badly. There was a lot of flattery, a lot of generalized info, but I felt without a doubt, that she was not speaking with anyone I knew.

You know, they people we love and cherish are such 3 dimensional characters. They have passions, humor, and nuances about them that make up their spirit of who they are. My mom, at about 5’1, was a tiny force to be reckoned with. She had a somewhat dirty sense of humor that was often surprising considering her posh accent and clothes. She was a HUGE personality in a tiny package. She was talkative, kind, and always extended a hand to the new person or outsider to bring them in. I have no doubt that if she had a chance to truly send me a message, it would be quite specific and there would be something humorous about it. She would want me to have no lingering doubt it was her. The messages I received from the Medium today belied everything about my mom. I paid the woman for her time, but left almost angry with myself for wasting it.

Will I ever go to a medium again? I can tell you I don’t honestly know. I think my experiences and the fact I have seen so much cold reading should lead me to say no. I’m an optimist at heart, albeit a bit of a cynic, which is an odd combination.

I’d give anything to have any sort of conversation with my loved ones who have passed. Sometimes when I am mulling over something I can almost hear their voices telling me what I’m quite sure they would say. Maybe I don’t need a medium. Maybe the ones I love are always in my heart, and I know, deep down, what their thoughts of things would be.

So far all those claiming to be mediums have been clearly cold readers. Maybe they truly believe they have a gift, maybe it’s just a job with a parlor trick. Who knows? What I do know, is that HAD my mom been sitting in that room, she would have laughed and said “This is bloody bullshit, this is!”

Everyone deserves a written send off.

I’m currently working on possibly moving my blog to a new domain since my stalker has created fake accounts on this one to get notifications of when I post.  It’s ridiculous I have to do that, but such is life. In the meantime, I’m still going to post here, because frankly, this is my blog, and I’m not bowing down to ridiculousness. I’m even questioning moving it, because I simply shouldn’t have to.  All of that being said, I began this blog to be an outlet for me, to express my thoughts.  Yesterday’s event warranted this post, so I’m posting it.

Yesterday was a tough day, for reasons I was not expecting.  I found out an old friend of mine passed away.  She was only 49.  When you become an adult and your parents and friends start dying, it’s a surreal feeling.  Everyone still feels way too young to die, and honestly, 49 is.

She was one of my close friends for a while.  She could make me laugh until I rolled around on the floor.  We shared a similar, dark, savage humor, and could find the laughter in just about any situation.  She was my friend during some hard times, and she certainly helped get me through it.  I also got her through some devastating times.

After a while, she met a new guy, while still married to the old one, and the new guy came with baggage.  Lots and lots of it, actually.  He was bad news from everything I could see, and I did my best to warn her.  I warned her, I begged her, to stay away from him and all the bad he was bringing along.  You know how it goes though, some girls love those bad boys and their big promises.  Before I knew it, her behavior became erratic.  She became paranoid, angry, and was acting like a totally different person.  I knew she was on drugs, and it was doing some major damage to who she was.  The last “conversation” I had with her was filled with paranoia and anger.  None of it made any sense.

The fact is, I have kids, and I just can’t have that sort of stuff around them.  I’m also grown, busy, and tired and I can’t have it around me either.  These were hardcore drugs.  I also saw her doing some other things that seemed questionable.  I had to bail.

I’ve felt badly over the years that I bailed.  The fact is though, when someone is on heavy drugs, they just aren’t the same person.  No matter what I did, I never would have been able to rescue her.  It had to be her that made her choices to get better.  Nevertheless, I felt sad.  I missed our friendship. I missed the laughter, her good heart, and I wondered why it all ended he way it did.

She ended up running away with the bad boy, I think they may have even gotten married.  Last I heard, he had terminal cancer.  I have no idea if he is even still alive, to be honest. It all just seemed so sad.  Yesterday, I saw she had passed away.  The blurb is short, she was born here on this date, she died in her residence on this date.  That made me even sadder. It seemed there was nobody to properly eulogize her life.  She had been reduced to a blurb.  I sat at my computer and cried. Here was a larger than life soul and all that was there was a 2 or 3 sentence blurb about her birth and death, but the middle, where all the important stuff really was, was missing.  I tried to find a proper obituary, but found nothing.

Everyone deserves a written send off.

I am sad for the end of her life.  I am sad for the end of our friendship.  I know I had to end the friendship, but it doesn’t always make it easier to know she’ll never have a chance to get back to the her that she once was.  It feels like the death of a chance.  I hope she found happiness with her bad boy, even if it came with a lot of baggage, chaos, illness and sadness.

I can surmise how she died, likely one of two ways.  I’ll likely never know for sure, but it doesn’t really matter.  It is what it is, and it’s sad. I’m sad. The past two weeks have been a test of all my emotions, and this one brought the sadness.

 

Goodbye friend

I woke up today, and immediately felt as though I wanted to burrow beneath the covers. It was wet and dreary out, the type of day which makes you want to seek out coziness. I eventually heaved myself out of bed, padded into the bathroom, and lamented the fact I had to go to work. It’s been a rough few weeks at the office, and spending the day with my husband and kids looked far more promising. I suddenly thought to myself that I need to get inspired for the day. “I’m awake, alive, and it’s a new day to make mine” I thought. I pondered that statement for a moment, Sure, I have a cold, I feel under the weather, but I am alive, and I have a chance to live another day. That in and of itself is a gift. Feeling more positive, I headed into the office, where I realized that one of my friends didn’t have the same opportunity that I did.

I saw the Facebook post that my friend had passed, I paused, shocked,and went to his page. Post after post of condolences and confirmations that it was true. I burst into tears, and left the office.
The rest of the day was a blur, mainly because I spent much of it crying, I cried for the loss of my old friend. I cried, as a mother myself, for the pain his parents and family must be feeling. I cried for the guilt of not picking up the phone more, I cried for assuming there would be another cup of coffee and a chat about his travels. I cried for the fact that while his death was caused by a fluke accident caused by a faulty heater, that I realized I am entering a stage of life where this will happen again, and more frequently. His was my first friend to have passed away.

He and I met in high school. We went to different schools, but ran in the same circles, we became friends, and spent many hours chatting about our hopes and dreams for life. He wanted to retire young, certainly by 40 he said. I moved to Virginia but we spoke on the phone a lot. He was an authentic person. Very “what you see is what you get”. I remember promising him I would see him graduate, and I drove 300 miles and crashed his graduation ceremony to cheer him on.

College came, and he went across the country. College can be tough. We both went through a depressed stage, and each helped the other one through it. I remember getting a call in the middle of the night, and he was in a bad way. Probable more depressed than I had ever seen him. I was worried enough that I got on a flight the next day and flew cross country to help him out. We both made it through the tough times by having each other’s backs and laughter. We used to exchange stories about the crazy people we dated. Both of us found a couple of nutjobs to date over the years and we’d laugh hysterically at each other’s plights.

Over the years, life took over and we weren’t always in touch regularly. He got married, I was busy working, dating, and partying more than I probably should have. He started drinking a lot, and eventually got sober. He got divorced. I got married and had a baby. He became very religious, while I had become less so. He was no longer interested in money so much, he just wanted to live and make a difference somehow. We were different, changed from our life experiences, but when we spoke again, we quickly caught up and it was like little time had passed, I always think a true measure of friendship is that while you may not see each other or speak regularly, as soon as you do, it’s a quick catching up and it’s like no time has passed. True friends don’t make you question their friendship. It just IS.

It’s been several years since we saw each other, and again, life had taken over. Marriage, kids and work had kept me busy. He had moved from state to state. I didn’t have a current phone number, but I knew he was on Facebook sometimes, albeit rarely. I thought just a week or so ago that I should message him to say hi, and check in. I meant to. I. Intended to. But like all good intentions, it stayed an intention. Today, I am regretful. They often say that it’s not what you do that you regret, but what you don’t do. I regret not making the time to say hi to my old friend. To catch up, even if briefly, and to let him know that, like all good friends, he had passed through my mind. Now, he is gone, and I am left feeling sad for a life taken way too soon. I am sad that I will have missed hearing about his recent adventures.

I remember in college he had called me in the middle of the night, sometimes drunk after a frat party. He would tell me, in that unguarded way that drunk people do, that I was such a good friend to him, and that I had always been there for him. I hope I was a good friend. I think I was. I hope that he knew that I was his friend right up until the end, even if life had kept us busy and we hadn’t spoken. Good bye old friend. Thank you for all of the friendship, memories, and laughs.