Sorry I have not posted anything lately. I have been helping my fiance remodel his bathroom and now I can barely move. I was in an accident 8 months ago and now have some pretty severe injuries in my neck. I happen to always over-do it and end up paying for it for the next following couple of days. I will be sitting down soon to write some more.. so keep your eyes peeled :-D
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Monday, August 9, 2010
My life was turned upside down
I refused to believe what had happened. After we found out that my dad was really gone, they came back in and asked if we wanted to go see him. I refused, vehemently. I did not want to be convinced. To me, he was still alive. When his funeral came around and the whole family was joined over the tragedy, I pretended to be perfectly fine. Everyone commended me on my quick action and my grown up attitude. My oldest brother, Todd, told me that I was his hero and he could not believe what all I had done. I accepted the praise, but still refused to admit that he was gone. I had been out of school the whole week but decided the day after the funeral I was going to go with one of my friends who had come to the funeral. We got on the bus in the morning, but by the early afternoon, right after lunch, my mom stopped by and asked how I was doing. I told her I wanted to go home. When we all finally returned back to school, my grades took a complete downward spiral. I would sit in class and daydream that my dad was coming home that afternoon to give us all hugs and kisses and we could all go on with our lives as normal. I had no idea on how to deal with the loss. My mom was also in total shock and denial. None of us knew how to talk about it. So we all let it fester up inside. How do you talk about something that no one wants to believe?? How do you handle that grief? I just pretended that he was away on a trip and he would be coming home soon. That is how I dealt with it the rest of that year.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
What you've been waiting for... 4th Grade
My fourth grade year was not my favorite year. To start things off, my teacher was pregnant and we were only going to have her for half the year. I was hitting that horrible stage of puberty that, as a girl, all you want to do is cry or beat someone up. I had a horrible crush on a boy in my class who had no idea I even existed! My best friend was going to a different school.
On November 3, 1990 it was a fairly pleasant day. I had spent the night at a friend's house and was being picked up by my dad that evening. Life was as it had been... fine. I had no idea it was the last day I was to see my father alive. We were driving home from my friend's and he mentioned he was not feeling well. We talked about other things that were of no importance. When we got home, he mentioned again that he just did not feel right. So he went to go lie down and I went to get him a glass of water. When I brought it in to him, he was sitting on his water-bed, against the head board. For the oddest reason, I asked him, as he drank his water, that what if he was having a heart attack. We were fanatics about watching "Rescue 911" and I had remembered when someone had a heart attack on it. He said he did not think that is what it was but he would be fine. I continued to stay right next to him. When he started breathing a little harder, I brought up the heart attack subject again. He said that he still did not think he was having a heart attack. He mentioned that no matter what happened, that he loves all of his children with all of his heart and all equally no matter what. He clutched his chest with tears. Then, he told me I should probably call the Cloquet Memorial Hospital (we did not have 911 out there where we lived so I had to look up the number in the phone book) and tell them my dad thinks he is having a heart attack. I burst into action. I proceeded to tell the operator my name and address and what was going on. I told her that I knew I had to stay calm in order for them to understand me and for me to understand them. The woman kept asking if there was someone older in the house. I had to tell her that my mom had not returned from work yet and the only older person was my older brother but he was in the other room. My dad continued to get worse and worse. I kept telling the woman that she needed to send out an ambulance right away. She kept asking to talk to someone else. I could not get it in her head that I was telling the truth. All of a sudden, my older brother, Vincent, and little brother, Kevin, were wrestling and Vincent got a little rough and made Kevin cry. They both came running into the room. Vincent noticed something was not right but Kevin had no idea. My dad started yelling at the two of them. That was when the woman realized that I was telling the truth and she needed to act immediately. She told me I had to get my dad to calm down and stop yelling. After Kevin left and my dad had calmed down and I had filled my older brother in on what was happening, I handed the phone over to Vincent. I ran out into the living room where my younger sister, Valerie, and Kevin were watching television. I was crying into my hands while just standing there. Valerie asked what was wrong. I was in such shock I was unable to say anything. She ran into our dad's room thinking that I had hit my face on something. After a few more seconds, I really had the feeling I should be back in the bedroom. When I got there, Vincent was on the bed, holding the phone in one hand and pounding on our dad's chest with the other. I grabbed the phone from him and yelled at the dispatch woman who did not believe me from the beginning "MY DAD IS TURNING PURPLE!!" and threw the phone back at Vincent and pushed him out of the way. I climbed on top of my father, pinched his nose, tilted his head back as best I could and gave 3 huge breaths. I tried breathing my young life into his purple body. I breathed my whole soul. I then wrapped my hands together, put them on his chest and pushed with my whole body to pump his heart. I pushed and pushed, and breathed and breathed. All of a sudden, he gasped and looked at me. Then all of his life left him. I screamed again. Pushed my heart into his chest, my breath into his lungs. When I was too exhausted to do any more, Vincent took over. I remember when I left the room, my dad was completely purple, his lifeless body was strewn across the bed, his arms were above his head, and his fingers were crossed. My sister and I went toward the living room when we heard the door open and closed. My mom was walking in with her brief case with a smile, unknowing what was happening in her family. Valerie and I both came into the room, yelling "Daddy's dying, daddy's dying!" My mom's smile faded into panic as she threw her brief case and went running for the bedroom. I felt completely helpless. I decided to go out and curse the sky. As I was out there, I also figured I should wave down the ambulance if or when it arrived. We had two driveways because we lived on the corner. Our closest driveway was not our actual "address" and our other driveway was way down by our garage. I saw the flashing lights and ran to the road. They pulled up into a neighbors driveway and I went screaming after them. They did not see me pointing their way to the closest access so they parked by the garage. When they came running up to the house with the gurney, I showed them the way to the room. My mom came out into the living room with all of us. We huddled in a circle, praying and crying, and hugging and crying. When the paramedics came out with him, they told my mom she could ride with. Our neighbor came over to bring us to the hospital behind the ambulance. When we arrived there, we had to wait. Waiting under circumstances such as those is longer than an eternity. Finally, someone lead us into a private room and all I heard was "I'm sorry" before the door closed.
On November 3, 1990 it was a fairly pleasant day. I had spent the night at a friend's house and was being picked up by my dad that evening. Life was as it had been... fine. I had no idea it was the last day I was to see my father alive. We were driving home from my friend's and he mentioned he was not feeling well. We talked about other things that were of no importance. When we got home, he mentioned again that he just did not feel right. So he went to go lie down and I went to get him a glass of water. When I brought it in to him, he was sitting on his water-bed, against the head board. For the oddest reason, I asked him, as he drank his water, that what if he was having a heart attack. We were fanatics about watching "Rescue 911" and I had remembered when someone had a heart attack on it. He said he did not think that is what it was but he would be fine. I continued to stay right next to him. When he started breathing a little harder, I brought up the heart attack subject again. He said that he still did not think he was having a heart attack. He mentioned that no matter what happened, that he loves all of his children with all of his heart and all equally no matter what. He clutched his chest with tears. Then, he told me I should probably call the Cloquet Memorial Hospital (we did not have 911 out there where we lived so I had to look up the number in the phone book) and tell them my dad thinks he is having a heart attack. I burst into action. I proceeded to tell the operator my name and address and what was going on. I told her that I knew I had to stay calm in order for them to understand me and for me to understand them. The woman kept asking if there was someone older in the house. I had to tell her that my mom had not returned from work yet and the only older person was my older brother but he was in the other room. My dad continued to get worse and worse. I kept telling the woman that she needed to send out an ambulance right away. She kept asking to talk to someone else. I could not get it in her head that I was telling the truth. All of a sudden, my older brother, Vincent, and little brother, Kevin, were wrestling and Vincent got a little rough and made Kevin cry. They both came running into the room. Vincent noticed something was not right but Kevin had no idea. My dad started yelling at the two of them. That was when the woman realized that I was telling the truth and she needed to act immediately. She told me I had to get my dad to calm down and stop yelling. After Kevin left and my dad had calmed down and I had filled my older brother in on what was happening, I handed the phone over to Vincent. I ran out into the living room where my younger sister, Valerie, and Kevin were watching television. I was crying into my hands while just standing there. Valerie asked what was wrong. I was in such shock I was unable to say anything. She ran into our dad's room thinking that I had hit my face on something. After a few more seconds, I really had the feeling I should be back in the bedroom. When I got there, Vincent was on the bed, holding the phone in one hand and pounding on our dad's chest with the other. I grabbed the phone from him and yelled at the dispatch woman who did not believe me from the beginning "MY DAD IS TURNING PURPLE!!" and threw the phone back at Vincent and pushed him out of the way. I climbed on top of my father, pinched his nose, tilted his head back as best I could and gave 3 huge breaths. I tried breathing my young life into his purple body. I breathed my whole soul. I then wrapped my hands together, put them on his chest and pushed with my whole body to pump his heart. I pushed and pushed, and breathed and breathed. All of a sudden, he gasped and looked at me. Then all of his life left him. I screamed again. Pushed my heart into his chest, my breath into his lungs. When I was too exhausted to do any more, Vincent took over. I remember when I left the room, my dad was completely purple, his lifeless body was strewn across the bed, his arms were above his head, and his fingers were crossed. My sister and I went toward the living room when we heard the door open and closed. My mom was walking in with her brief case with a smile, unknowing what was happening in her family. Valerie and I both came into the room, yelling "Daddy's dying, daddy's dying!" My mom's smile faded into panic as she threw her brief case and went running for the bedroom. I felt completely helpless. I decided to go out and curse the sky. As I was out there, I also figured I should wave down the ambulance if or when it arrived. We had two driveways because we lived on the corner. Our closest driveway was not our actual "address" and our other driveway was way down by our garage. I saw the flashing lights and ran to the road. They pulled up into a neighbors driveway and I went screaming after them. They did not see me pointing their way to the closest access so they parked by the garage. When they came running up to the house with the gurney, I showed them the way to the room. My mom came out into the living room with all of us. We huddled in a circle, praying and crying, and hugging and crying. When the paramedics came out with him, they told my mom she could ride with. Our neighbor came over to bring us to the hospital behind the ambulance. When we arrived there, we had to wait. Waiting under circumstances such as those is longer than an eternity. Finally, someone lead us into a private room and all I heard was "I'm sorry" before the door closed.
Monday, August 2, 2010
Poor? We never knew..
Before I move onto my fourth grade disaster, I want to tell you a few things of my life before then.
When we were growing up, we never knew we didn't have any money. My mom was a stay-at-home mom for most of our lives although she did dabble in things like Home Interiors (she was very good at it) and she did the home decorating section in JcPenny's. My dad was going to school to become a M.D. and he was also a musician. That's actually how my parents met. My dad was playing in one of the local bars and my mom was a waitress there... After some glances across the bar and some flirting, they hit it off. So back to my dad going to school and singing. He played for quite a few events and I remember going to many of them. At most of them, my sister and I would go up to complete strangers there and started dancing with them. We were always like the little mascots of where ever we went. It was so much fun. He was going to school at the U of M in Duluth. I remember going to a few of his classes. My little sister even got an honorary UMD cloth diaper when she was an infant. We lived in a beautiful country house.. or at least we thought. It was a little run down, but it had enough room for everyone. We made it home. Sometime in 3rd grade, one of our big huge dogs that had been shot passed away. He had been such an awesome family dog. The bullets had finally moved into his organs and he had been coughing up blood and finally went. Shortly thereafter, we were getting ready to go camping for the weekend. There was a terrible thunder and lightening storm, so my dad put the other dog into a junk car we had. In the morning, we were finishing up packing up when my dad remembered the dog. When he didn't come back for a long time, we all got anxious. We then found out that he had forgotten to crack a window and our beloved family dog died in his sleep. It was probably for the best, for he also had many internal injuries from being shot.
I was a serious daddy's girl. Everywhere he went, I wanted to go to. When he was studying, I wanted to help. I seriously believed that I could do his math homework. He rarely got short with us... except with my sister and my room. It was a pigsty and he would let us know it. He was a dark, tall and handsome man. He was one of the most beautiful men I have ever known...and he knew it. The women loved him. When we were little, he was a very unique father. He would take each one of us out on a special day with daddy. We would go to the park or out to eat at our local Perkins. It was a time to really get to spend one on one time with him. When I was about 8, I started having insomnia. He would grab his guitar, start playing and sing me to sleep. When that stopped working, he would help me meditate to fall asleep. As I said, I was daddy's girl.
When we were growing up, we never knew we didn't have any money. My mom was a stay-at-home mom for most of our lives although she did dabble in things like Home Interiors (she was very good at it) and she did the home decorating section in JcPenny's. My dad was going to school to become a M.D. and he was also a musician. That's actually how my parents met. My dad was playing in one of the local bars and my mom was a waitress there... After some glances across the bar and some flirting, they hit it off. So back to my dad going to school and singing. He played for quite a few events and I remember going to many of them. At most of them, my sister and I would go up to complete strangers there and started dancing with them. We were always like the little mascots of where ever we went. It was so much fun. He was going to school at the U of M in Duluth. I remember going to a few of his classes. My little sister even got an honorary UMD cloth diaper when she was an infant. We lived in a beautiful country house.. or at least we thought. It was a little run down, but it had enough room for everyone. We made it home. Sometime in 3rd grade, one of our big huge dogs that had been shot passed away. He had been such an awesome family dog. The bullets had finally moved into his organs and he had been coughing up blood and finally went. Shortly thereafter, we were getting ready to go camping for the weekend. There was a terrible thunder and lightening storm, so my dad put the other dog into a junk car we had. In the morning, we were finishing up packing up when my dad remembered the dog. When he didn't come back for a long time, we all got anxious. We then found out that he had forgotten to crack a window and our beloved family dog died in his sleep. It was probably for the best, for he also had many internal injuries from being shot.
I was a serious daddy's girl. Everywhere he went, I wanted to go to. When he was studying, I wanted to help. I seriously believed that I could do his math homework. He rarely got short with us... except with my sister and my room. It was a pigsty and he would let us know it. He was a dark, tall and handsome man. He was one of the most beautiful men I have ever known...and he knew it. The women loved him. When we were little, he was a very unique father. He would take each one of us out on a special day with daddy. We would go to the park or out to eat at our local Perkins. It was a time to really get to spend one on one time with him. When I was about 8, I started having insomnia. He would grab his guitar, start playing and sing me to sleep. When that stopped working, he would help me meditate to fall asleep. As I said, I was daddy's girl.
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