Age isn’t Kind

My Grandmother is less than a month away from her 91st birthday.  She has been there for me since the day I was born.  Over the last month, I have been forced to see three real truths exist in this world.  I always knew she wouldn’t be here forever… somewhere in my head, I know people don’t live forever.  But when you’ve lived over 33 years and someone you love has been there for you the whole time – healthy, independent, loving and supportive – it’s hard to really internalize the truth about this world.

This world is a cruel place.

Truth 1: Grandma won’t live forever.  Her time on this Earth is coming to an end.  There is nothing I can do about it.  There is nothing I can do.

Truth 2:  Everybody ages and age is only graceful to a point.  The body and the mind cease functions one by one.  I have no control over this.  I cannot plan for it.  I cannot stop it.  I cannot help her.  She will continue to decline until the end.  I think I maybe believed there was a chance this wouldn’t happen.  I think she has lived so long that I hoped she would just pass on peacefully in her sleep before any of these horrible things took place.  It’s pretty scary to think that even the healthiest person can’t escape this one horrible truth.

Truth 3:  I will go on living my life without her.  This is by far the hardest to accept.  When she is gone, the world won’t stop.  My life won’t stop.  I have to learn to live without telling her about it.  My holiday plans will have to change.  I’m going to get married.  I’m going to have kids.  But I’m guessing she will not see it.  I have to somehow find a way to accept that all this can happen – and is good – even without her in this world.  I haven’t had nearly enough time with her.

My Grandfather died 22 years ago.  She has lived all this time without him.  She loves him and misses him every day.  She always talks about him.  I hope that I can love my husband as much as she and my Grandpa loved each other.

I am breaking.  A piece of me is dying with her.  My family won’t let me see her right now.  I can’t help.  I can’t even be there with her when she is confused and scared.  I feel helpless.  I am angry.


The thing about where I live… Haven’t been gridlocked in a traffic jam for over an hour…

Except when I visit this horrible place called Chicago.  I drove 7 hours and then got stuck.  Been inching along slower than a snail ever since.  

This is the reason I don’t want to live here again.  Traffic.  It’s everywhere all the time.  

Memorial Day

The hardest thing about Memorial Day is remembering alone.  I’ve got my boyfriend and his family – his sisters are good friends of mine.  But they weren’t there when I lost those I lost.  I don’t have anyone to share memories of my freinds with.  It’s just an empty place.  

Does anyone remember my grandfather’s brother?  Other than me, I doubt it.  No wife.  No children.  Died in WWII.   His friends and famil are all dead.  So who will remember?

I’m sure my friend from high school is remembered.  His parents, his sister, and his closest friends remember.  There was a moment I thought he would be my brother-in-law.  But those moments faded into time.

In college I met a soldier.  Maybe it’s inappropriate to remember this because I have a boyfriend I talk about marrying.   But life imprints moments upon our memories.  I will never forget the rooftop kiss in a hot tub in Hawaii under the plumeria tree.  I’m sure hia family, closest friends, and the soldiers he served with remember.  But that memory is my special memory of a soldier who died. 

The guy who sat next to me in ROTC military science classes. His wife remembers.  Unfortunately his 4 children probably don’t.  They were 6 and under when he gave his life for their freedom.  They do know they are growing up without a dad, though.  It’s heartbreaking to think of them.   I remember his sense of humor and his children.

My buddy who passed away 2 years ago at the bottom of a staircase.  No – his body didn’t physically die while in the war.  But he came back so me$ed up from deployment that he never worked again.  He was nwver the same.  After years of suffering, God finally saw it fit to end his Earthly suffering and bring him home to Heaven.  But his boys were also deprived of the father that man once was.   

But I don’t get to share those memories with anyone.  So I write them here.  All these men gave their lives so we could have everything we currently have.  It’s hard to accept.  I’ve seen too much loss, too much pain and suffering as a result of war.  It’s almost impossible to draw the line between numb and overwhelming sadness.


I’m being bullied by people at work.  Honestly, I did yell at one of the bulliers on Thursday.  But that was after rudely interrupting my class, walking in front of a presentation a student was doing in front of me and 3 other teachers, and finally invading my personal buble.  I hadn’t talked to her aim e some time in 2016.  I’m not even sure it was this school year.  At any rate, before she hunted me down 3 times in one day to make a spectacle, she emailed a complaint to my boss about me.  So there was a generic email sent that didn’t specifically name what I was guilty of BEFORE I actually did lose my cool and yell.  Nasty manipulator complained for some unknown reason and then spent an entire day goading me until she got what she was looking for.  

I’ve been unauccesafully searching for a new career. Too many of the people I work with are less mature than the teenage students.  Some of them don’t even pretend to do their job.  I’m disappointed in myself because I thought I was better.  I thought I.was ready to go out into the real world and get a big girl job.  But if I can’t handle being antagonized for a day, maybe I’m not ready.  

The worst part is that I typically don’t engage.  I don’t gossip with people.  I listen a lot.  Chalk it up to people venting frustration and move on without repeating it.  This is also a reason some people don’t like me or don’t feel comfortable with me.  They don’t know how to hold other conversations so when I don’t engage, they are put off.  I usually become their target to the next person they gossip to.  But other than the fact that I’m a team player and I support the idea that our team is a democracy, I didn’t do anything to deserve this.  I’m frustrated and can’t sleep. Maybe now that I’ve written something about it I’ll be able to get some rest.

Poetry Unit

English 1 is in a poetry unit.  Yesterday they had to write 3 five-minute metaphors.  I figured it was a good opportunity for myself to get to writing – but it’s really hard to meet the objectives of the assignment and help students at the same time.  I mean to publish this yesterday… but didn’t get around to it.  You know… work… swing dance class… those things just get in the way.


The cold air is thousand needle sticks

driving through layers of clothes

when I leave my warm home

reminding me of the pessimism

I endure facing the mundane work day.




Teaching is a leech

feeding on positive inhibitions

sucking morale out of the air for dessert.




Clouds boil and bubble in the early morning sky

An eerie dance evoking darkness and fear

B: Busy.

Busy enough to put off writing, missing Tuesday’s “B” and Wednesday’s “C.”  Tuesday was  the first Tuesday of the month, making it “Brisket and Boogie” night.  The instructor smokes a bunch of brisket, the rest of use methodically pick something off the shelf at the store – or, in some cases, mix up a tasteful side – and add it to the table next to the brisket. The dancing was good.  Our “boogie” happens to be West Coast Swing.  There are two workshops and a late night dance on Saturday.  I am thinking about competing this summer and I definitely need the workshops if I’m going to do that, but they are expensive.  Saturday is a $55 kind of a night.  It seems my hobbies tend to be expensive.

Of course it’s Lent… which means dinner and service at church on Wednesdays.  Ran to JoAnn Fabric so I could use my 4 50% coupons.  I’m planning a wine and craft night for my friends.  Great way to get people to come over and hang out with me!  I love crafts.

So… Busy.  Between work, lesson plans, dance, church, and craft planning, I’ve been busy.  Seems all that busy cuts into my knack for finding words and describing things.  I’ll get there though.

A: Arrive

I am arriving slightly late to this party.  Missed A-day because I went camping with my boyfriend.  We arrived at the campsite after the rain before dark fell upon us.  We set up camp, made some food, drank adult beverages, talked, made smores!  We made breakfast, broke camp, and went to a wetland refuge to hike and photograph.  I managed to not really get any good photographs.  However,  we did make it back in time to shower and arrive at our brother-in-law’s birthday party on time.  But somehow this… attempting to get back into writing… searching out my words.  I may be a day late on this A to Z thing… and I definitely didn’t arrive with a theme.  But it’s just for me anyways.  I’m not trying to win any blogger awards or attract a mass following.  I prefer a small community of people who leave meaningful comments when they feel inspired to do so.  Maybe I’ll manage to pull this off and arrive on time a week from today with “H.”  Only time will tell.