Old woman hair

“Old woman hair”.  When Ham said it, I didn’t know what he meant.  But, just a few days ago, I realized it.   I was with some friends at my favorite hang out.  These two really nice looking ladies came in.  Dressed well, nice jewelry, discreet makeup.  Didn’t look any older than I am, at least not to me.  And the guy sitting beside me commented that they looked good to be so old.  Said they could tell by the hair.  One had hair cut short, with that 60’s fringe of bangs and the top teased and sprayed to perfection.  The other had hers pulled back with the biggest, ugliest bow I have ever seen, with the requisite bangs.  70’s all the way. 

 

That’s when I remembered the conversation.  It’s funny, how you remember things at the oddest times, things that you thought were buried.  Conversations of no import at the time, but the source of immeasurable joy when remembered later. 

 

We were on our way home from a track meet in Niceville (one of the places I wasn’t allowed out of the kids sight because they didn’t like “the way they looked at their Mom”).  Country music was on the radio, and 4 young men, our 4×4 team, were rolling their eyes, asking for real music.  Switched it to “oldies” rock.  My hair was down.  I rolled down the window and was singing along.  My hair slapped H, riding shotgun,  in the face.  He laughed and said, “Red’s Mom (what they all called me), when you gonna cut that?”.

 

Jason, who had been relegated to the center of the back seat this trip, laughed and said that he and I had a deal.  I’d cut my hair “old woman” style when he graduated from med school…. you know, that perfectly coifed look, instead of the wild tangle that my hair usually is.  Until then, it would stay wild.  J told H that much as he liked his Mom, Charlotte, her hair screamed, “OLD”.

 

It’s still wild.

 

Just wanted to share a memory that brought a big smile to my face.   For my friends who never fail to make me smile…. thanks.  Especially you, Big Rick.   

 

Life is for the living.  Get out there and live it.

 

Princess

Maximum respect,

July 4th

The Fourth of July.  Not a day that I usually write about my boys (although I write about them for ME almost every day, I don’t share it).  This is a  day to write about my boys, my life, my journey, where I have been, and where I am going.

 

I remember all the July Fourth’s spent at Disney.  Mom, my boys, me…. we’d load up the Gremlin (yes, we actually had one)  and head to Melbourne.  We stayed with Alan and Vicky (most times, if we were lucky, we saw Tommy and Di for a few minutes).   I had to laugh when I remembered one visit tonight.  Jason Lee was supposed to get the Cokes out of the back of the car.  Guess he was as tired as I was, because he didn’t get them.  They exploded all over the car.  Mom and I could do nothing but laugh…. what was the sense in getting angry?  Couldn’t change it. 

 

The fireworks.  Standing in line FOREVER for the boys favorite rides.  But doing it with joy, and laughter, and Rick with his perennial, “we’re lost.  I know we’re lost.”.  The day it started to pour rain, while we were in the Magic Kingdom.  Mom took shelter.  The three of us?  What’s gonna happen…. we’re gonna get wet?  So, we continued with our adventure.  The older gentleman stopping us and sternly asking me if our Mother knew we were out in the rain.  Rick very politely telling him that I was his Mom, and I knew where we were.  We were outside the Peter Pan ride.  Did we get wet?  Yep.  But all I remember are the smiles and laughs and giggles, the popcorn, Jason and the turkey leg that was as big as he was, the hot dogs, the fireworks, Cinderella singling Jason out, and how he decided he’d just marry her.

 

My life is headed in a different direction.  It is one that I have known that I need to follow for quite some time now.  I am not the same person I was 8 years ago.  My time of taking care of aging, sick parents is over (unless I get Papa, and I’ll happily take him if I need to).   I’ll know soon exactly which way I am going.  But, in a new direction, it is.  I know that I am going to find a way to start a Survivors of Suicide group here.  It is so desperately needed.  Be the change you wish to see in the world.  I may stay semi-retired working on that for a while.  I don’t know right this moment.  I’ll know when I am supposed to know.

 

I used to say that life isn’t fair.  But, I had a print by Brian Andreas (you all know I love StoryPeople).  He always graciously signs my prints, because he knows what words mean to me, and how healing many of his words have been since the deaths of my sons.   It hung at Triple J for a long time.  My heart led me to give it to someone whom I felt needed the words.  Brian says,

They left me
with your shadow,
saying things like
Life is not fair

& I believed them
for a long time.

But today,
I remembered
the way you laughed
& the heat
of your hand
in mine

& I knew that
life is more fair
than we can
ever imagine
if
we are there to live it

 

We have to be here to live it.  Tonight humbled me.  It made me realize how much I am really loved.  What a blessing that is… to be loved.

 

After I finished the party, I stopped by my favorite Biker Bar for a drink.  I actually enjoy stopping by myself for a drink.  It’s me time, and I treasure it.   So many things happened, in such a short span of time.  The really drunk guy who told me I was too “classy” to be at Newby’s.  Trust me, the dude was REALLY drunk.  The drunk guy who wanted to impress me with his education.  Got rid of him by introducing Mark as my boyfriend. The guy who said, “You’re the shoe girl!!  Where’ve you been?”  The tattooed pierced girl who decided I was the “coolest person she’d ever met”.  The guy who asked me if I knew how lucky I am.

 

That gave me pause.  Lucky?  How am I lucky?  My children are dead by their own hands.  My Mother is in Heaven.  Andy is in Heaven.  The people that I love the most in this world no longer inhabit this world.  I am unemployed (I prefer temporarily retired).

 

Then I remembered.  11:11.  The Angel hour.  Those of you who know me know that I haven’t worn a watch since the day that Rick asked for Jason’s watch, shortly after J died.  There is something about watches that makes me shake, so I just don’t wear one.  I am not as attuned to time since my boys moved to Heaven as I perhaps should be.  I make it a point to be at work on time, but everything else happens when it happens.  I’ll be close to on time.  Maybe a few minutes early.  Maybe a few minutes late.  But close.  But, when I went inside to wash the blender, I saw the clock.  It said 11:11.  And I stood there, and talked to my 4 Angels until it said 11:12.  And had the most wonderful Angel hugs.

 

Lucky?  You bet I am.   The best kids in the world were mine.  They made an impact on this world that will be felt for centuries to come.  Andy loved me.  Me.  Who I am.  He didn’t want to change me.  He never made one snarky, hurtful comment.  Not one.  He just…. loved me.  Like I love him.  I am honored to have the best friends this old world of ours can offer, people that I can actually call in the middle of the night, and they’ll do whatever it is I need.

 

I have known great love.  I have known great loss.  But you know what?  It’s a great day to be alive.

 

Please, get out there and live your life.  It took me a LONG time, but I realized that what other people think of me doesn’t matter.  What matters is that I can look in the mirror and know that I was the best me I could be that day. 

 

I may share this.  I may keep it just for me.  We’ll see how I feel in the morning.

 

Walk good, be blessed, and thank your Higher Power for another day.

 

Maximum respect,
 
Brenda Adkins, always Red’s & Red Man’s Mom
 http://www.theovernight.org/index.cfm?fuseaction=extranet.personalpage&confirmid=10009264
 Life isn’t the party I’d hoped for, but I’ll dance anyway, because my sons believed I would.

 

Jason August 5, 1974 – May 7, 2000
 
Rick August 5, 1974 – August 16, 2002 found August 24, 2002
You may not think the world needed you, but it did.   For you were unique: like no one that has ever been before or will come after.   No one can speak with your voice; say your piece; smile your smile; or shine your light.   No one can take your place for it was yours alone to fill.   Because you are not here to shine your light, who knows how many travelers will lose their  way as they try to pass by  your empty place in the darkness
I miss you, Andy.  Kick their butts for me, please.
http://www.runningwiththewind.com/

The Perfect Cat

How does one even begin to describe the perfect cat?  And trust me, Bass was perfect.  He was Jason’s cat whether I liked it or not.  I guess he got tired of missing J, so he joined him Saturday.

 

There are so many “Bass stories”.  Sherrie’s son Hunter was determined that I was going to name him Sunny Bunny.  I named him Sabastian P. Ale (yes, for the beer!  I love Bass Ale.)  It didn’t take me long to figure out that the P.  stood for Perfect.

 

He had to have weighed all of 6 ounces when I brought him home.  I took him to Tommy’s store so everyone could meet him.  He promptly began to walk across the counter, then, quick as lightening, sprawled, all four paws out, sound asleep.  He was adorable,  Red fur, the biggest golden eyes you’ve ever seen. 

 

I was a bit leery of introducing him to the dogs.  I had Bebo, Bucket and Bert.  Bucket and Bo were Mother and son, normal sized Chows, with Chow brains, or Chow lack of brains, however you choose to look at it)..  Them, I wasn’t worried about.  Then there was Bert, my beloved 200 pound St. Bernard.  Bert had no idea that he wasn’t a Chow.  He also didn’t know that he didn’t precisely fit in my lap, so that is where he frequently sat.  I walked into the kitchen with this tiny ball of fur, ready to snatch him up if I needed to.  Bass promptly walked over to Bert and slapped him on the nose.  And thus they became the best of friends.

 

He bit our best friend Barry on the nose.  We TOLD Barry that Bass was finicky.  Barry didn’t listen.  For the record, all of my furpeople have bitten Barry except Bama.  And she will if she gets half a chance.

 

Bass grew into a beautiful 25 pound Himalayan.  He was this huge ball of fluff, ruling the house.  He accidentally went outside once.  I still laugh when I think of him stepping on the grass, looking at his paw, looking at me…. and going back inside.  After that, it didn’t matter if you left the door open.  Fat P wasn’t about to go out there.

 

He had his favorite chair.  He loved to eat.  I have an auto-feeder for my cats.  When it was down to about a quarter of the way full,  Bass would find me and take me to it, to show me that he was almost out of food.  He was absolutely useless when it came to cat stuff.  There is a canal behind our house, so the entire neighborhood has cats to keep the rats away.  Bass didn’t care about the rats unless he thought his food was in jeopardy.  Then he expected me (yeah, right) to do something about it.  Bama and Buford got the last one.  Bass walked around it.

 

One of my (many) favorite memories is Jason sitting in the recliner,  Bass curled in his lap.  J had a towel tied around his head with ice packs in it… he’d just had all 4 wisdom teeth removed.  He looked at me with those huge blue eyes and said, “But Mom!  Nobody told me it was going to hurt!”  Sabastian looked totally affronted that his person was in pain.  If looks could cause physical harm, I’d have been hurt, the way Bass glared at me.  And hissed when I changed J’s ice packs.

 

He was 18, down to skin and bones.  Still loved to eat.  Wanted his treats when the dogs got theirs.  Insisted is a better word, and he could definitely be loud.

 

Before I left Friday morning, we had a long talk, Bass and I.  I told him him much I loved him, and how wonderful he was, but that it was okay for him to go find his boys and his dogs now.  He purred, for the first time in a while.  He licked my nose.

 

He’s buried in the back yard, with his favorite box and blanket.  I miss him so much already.  He was my last living piece of Jason.  In the first days of J’s absence, Bass stayed with me, curled around my head, offering comfort.  He knew.  And he mourned with me.  The same when Bo left, when Bert left, when Bucket left, especially when Rick left, when Andy left.  Through it all, Bass has been there for me.

 

To some, he was just a cat.  To me, he was an Angel.  My Mom even loved him (not as much as she loved Boomer, though!).  She called them the three old people in the house.

 

Thank you, Mr. God, for letting Bass pick me.  Thank you for 18 wonderful years.  I miss you, Bass.  I love you.  I always will.

 

Mr. God, I don’t often ask for anything for me.  There are too many other people whose needs are much greater.  But, if You could find it in your Heart to give me just a couple of days of reduced pain, I’d really appreciate it.

 

 

Mommy

 

 

 

 

Maximum respect,
 
Brenda Adkins, always Red’s & Red Man’s Mom
 http://www.theovernight.org/index.cfm?fuseaction=extranet.personalpage&confirmid=10009264
 Life isn’t the party I’d hoped for, but I’ll dance anyway, because my sons believed I would.

 

Jason August 5, 1974 – May 7, 2000
 
Rick August 5, 1974 – August 16, 2002 found August 24, 2002
You may not think the world needed you, but it did.   For you were unique: like no one that has ever been before or will come after.   No one can speak with your voice; say your piece; smile your smile; or shine your light.   No one can take your place for it was yours alone to fill.   Because you are not here to shine your light, who knows how many travelers will lose their  way as they try to pass by  your empty place in the darkness
I miss you, Andy.  Kick their butts for me, please.
http://www.runningwiththewind.com/

 

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