Happy Anniversary, we miss you.

I woke up a little confused this morning, dreams of my mom and dad. Then when I sat down I realized she had passed away a year ago today, on their 46th wedding anniversary (today would be their 47th anniversary). Of course it happened that way, my parents loved each other too much to go long without seeing one another. My mom liked holidays so this seems perfectly in her style to pick one of her favorite holidays to pass.

She didn’t do well after my dad passed away in February of 2016. She was lonely a lot, and I couldn’t be with her daily (but at least weekly I was). I did call her multiple times a day, every day and she seemed buoyed by it. Then my brother stayed with her. She tried hard to keep things going, but in the end her body couldn’t hold up to her grief.

Although she was incredibly brave, and remarkably at peace as things failed her. She didn’t want to be here anymore. As her heart was giving out, we talked with her and she went into hospice. By this time we were driving up daily to see her. So many things happened I will talk about later. I remember her asking me for the days in hospice what day it was. She wanted to make it so badly to their anniversary. It was important to her.

I kept telling her it wasn’t “today” yet. Eventually that day did come, no matter how much I wished it wouldn’t. Their anniversary arrived quietly on a hot summer day, and as we went up to see her in the hospice house I knew it would be for the last time.

We arrived there, met with family, drama and a desire that I could whisk her away somewhere she could get true peace. We sat with her for hours, she was slowly fading, but would occasionally stir and say something garbled.

I was holding her hand most of the day, she was less responsive then the previous days. I leaned over and whispered to her that it was ok, today was her anniversary she had been waiting for and it was ok to go. She was mostly unconscious but she still squeezed my hand.

We stayed a few more hours, and I thought I had been wrong. Not more than 30 minutes later, while we were still driving through Mount Vernon on our way home, I got a call from my sister. She had passed away. I was numb for the rest of the car ride, but that will be talked about in a future post (along with everything else that happened around her passing).

I love you mom. I still miss you and I hope you are in a better place. Even with all the issues our family had, I am grateful you were my mother. I know you loved all of us deeply.

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Mom in  May 1970
IMG_0802
Mom in May 2016, still holding it together for the family after my father passed.

It is funny, I still remember you more towards the way you looked in the 1970s.

Oh, and my mom was a stickler about holidays, ALL OF THE HOLIDAYS, so I know she expects me to wish her and my dad a happy anniversary, 47 years ago today. So HAPPY 47th ANNIVERSARY MOM AND DAD!

From Parents Photo Album
Married July 25th, 1970. John and Mary Bradley.

I love you, just wanted you to know that we love you, and we miss you and dad.

Dreams: Packages and Mom

Dreams Road SignI don’t really have a witty title for this dream, I wouldn’t call it a nightmare really, or even a bad dream, but it did wake me up and I needed to write it here. Because I only woke up three or four minutes ago, please forgive the grammar/spelling issues.

I was sitting in a living room, sort of similar to my mom’s parents old house. I have very little memories of the house, but it seemed to fit. The room was bathed in a morning light, bright, but diffuse with the curtains, sort of a golden yellowish light.

I looked around the room and there were packages everywhere, getting ready to be delivered. I noticed a very large package sitting in the chair. I never really saw the outside edges of the package because I noticed the package had a hole at the top front.

I could make out a person inside. Part of me knew exactly what I was looking at, even if in that horrible dreamlike state it still moved forward with a “reveal”.

Looking back at me was an older woman, although not quite as old as I remember, the last five months of her life without my dad had aged her. Her skin had a waxy complexion, with what appeared to be warbles. It looked like her body had been through a rough time after she had been embalmed. The reason I thought she was embalmed was the same waxy look my grandparents had when they were buried.

A side note, my mom wasn’t embalmed, both my dad and mom wanted no embalming at all, so I knew even in the dream that it must be a dream, at least part of me did.

Her eyes are what caught me. They were different, damaged, or else changed in a way that I couldn’t tell. I want to say they were golden, almost cat-like in color but with my colorblindness that may not even be what they were. Her eyes would have been a focal point in filming her if it was a monster movie, slowing panning across them. As I was looking at her eyes, trying to figure out what was going on, they shifted and looked back at me.

The dream stuttered for a moment, and then there I was same place, with my mom sitting in the chair (the packaging was gone). Everything else was the same. She had the same complexion, the same weird goldenish eyes that didn’t look right. Her hair looked like it had been dyed sometime recently, it had that straw-like crackle to it, but it wasn’t grey.

We were talking as if we meant to see each other. She was asking me how I was doing, how the hubby was doing, and what had happened after she was gone. It was a very nonchalant conversation.

I then apologized for her eyes and told her I had them donated when she passed, and while they found they couldn’t use them for a cornea transplant, they could use it for research (this is indeed what happened). It dawned on me that is what was wrong with her eyes, the corneas had been removed.

I told her that it is almost a year since she had passed (July 2016). She was reassuring, even with those eyes staring at me. She seemed pleased I had tried. We continued to talk, but the dream was fading.  I knew she loved us, and she knew we loved her..

I woke up, hubby woke up a bit too and I told him a little bit about the dream. He reassured me and I told him to go back to sleep, he needed it. He has a lot of recovering to do. Finally he fell back asleep.

Even as I was in the dream, I knew this dream is more of me dealing with the hubby’s surgery, especially since this is the first major thing I have had to work through (his surgery) without having them still here to talk to me and reassure me that things were going to be ok (well, their deaths was the first time actually, but that doesn’t count).

So I wrote it up here in the dark hotel room, listening to my husband beside me snore and the random HGTV show on the TV.

I am just sitting here missing my mom.

Double Feature

Yep, another post about another dream.

Over the last couple of weeks my anxiety has been kicked up to an 11 due to Wolsey’s surgery, work and just a lot of stuff in my head. Last night I took some meds to go to sleep and ended up having dreams I mostly remember.

The first dream is we were in a house, a real place (sort of in the dream) that I lived at as a child. It mostly consisted of my dad talking to us, giving us shit. We were talking about a girl named Brie Larson who my dad had a fling with in the house (the reality is there was a drunken one night thing in the place I don’t think the girl was named Brie though). My dad was being huge and giving us shit about the place.

For some reason I turned around annoyed when he brought up the place and I said “Well, this is the place where you died too” and everything stopped. It wasn’t of course, he died in a place 30 years later. He just looked at me and I realized he was gone in the real world. He just gave me a small smile and said he loved me.

I woke up and found it was about 1am. I didn’t want to get up and I must have fallen asleep fairly soon after.

The second dream was more intense and longer, but I remember less of it as I am sitting here. I remember it was a hospital and there were many people there. My mom was in the hospital again to get surgery on her heart. In the real world I think I did this with her four times before she had the final problems she died from eventually.

We waited for her to come out and several others that went in for surgery around the same time she did had passed away. there was a lot of stress about her results. After some drama with the nurses and with my sister (which is too close to what happened in real life with my father) I was freaking out. Finally they brought her back out and she was ok. All I could focus on though was how thin her skin felt when I was hugging her. Thats when I woke up.

So there it is, the depressing dreams of the day :).

Only if you can spare it.

Hi Folks, I need some help. My father’s imminent passing has us cornered. He doesn’t have any funeral insurance (or life insurance at all) and Social Security only provides $255. We are trying to swing for payment of his funeral (plot, etc) plus the plot for my mom so when she passes she can be buried next to him.

If we could get any help, we’d be very appreciative.

I want everyone to understand I absolutely HATE doing this. There is a reason I avoided help for Wolsey’s surgery (we were able to harangue the money in the end). However, as is the norm, my dad’s timing sucks and this is happening just as we paid out for Wolsey’s surgery last week.

1. By no means do I expect anyone to help. This is just in case someone does want to help. You all have been great and I already feel crappy even asking.

2. Do not feel bad if you don’t help. There isn’t any reason for you to feel bad. Sometimes shit happens, and we roll with it.

3. Some people don’t like gofundme (and I don’t blame them). If you want to still help I am ok with taking anything in person or by mail/paypal/whatever.

4. This is the most important part. Just having you folks be so warm helps a lot. This will get figured out, no matter what, I will make it work.

I want to thank everyone for how supportive they have been. That alone leaves me and my family walking away on top.

Thank you for everything.

If you can help, please see our GoFundMe (https://www.gofundme.com/9jnpq2xj) page, or contact me directly.

Oh, and I am intentionally not posting this on Accidentally Gay. It isn’t fair for me to ask for help on a site specifically for a different purpose (thank you to those who suggest, I just don’t think it is fair of me).

Dad is in hospice

Sometimes 1998
Mom and Dad, Sometime in 1998 (I think)

Saw my dad yesterday, he is in the final stages of hospice, but he is at home in bed and comfortable. He will pass anytime now, but we got to say our goodbyes, hug, and he talked back to me. I probably will post specifically about that later, it was important, but don’t have the words. I am going back up there regularly, and especially after he passes I will need to help make arrangements and help my mother.

I was trying to come up with a simple phrase to describe him and who he was. I thought about all the things he did in the Vietnam War, how he grew up a bastard in Oso and was the black sheep of the family. His historic run ins with the law, his running with a motorcycle MC or Miami Vice like incidents. How he loved his kids and wife and how he had trouble with alcohol.
However, while I was thinking about that yesterday, I think the one thing to talk about to describe him was that everyone in the neighborhood loved him.
We had several neighbors from upstairs apartments, across the street or who called across the state who wanted to talk to him and say goodbye. They were crying, they were going to miss him.
I think that is the best way to describe him. Not the badass tv action series that his life would be (probably at least 4 seasons of exciting stories), rather it was the fact that everyone loved him, and are going to miss him. I think the tears on the neighbor’s face asking when he could come visit is probably the best testament to him.
I am not good with words right now, once he passes I probably will write a lot about him and my mom. Until then you folks get weird fragments from my consciousness.