Hi!  My name is Wesley the Great! And I am an Ewok/cat.  And you don't have to tell me, cause I already know that I'm too cute for words!

These are the other two cats that I let stay here.  Teddy Bear and Princess Buttercup.  The ol'Tedsters is quite the snob, since he's so handsome and Cary Grantish, but Buttercup, now that girl likes to play with me!  I let her think she's kicking my butt regularly, just cause I'm nice like that!  She doesn't know I'm holding back, or that I really don't need to cry for mama to come save me.  It keeps her happy, and we all know its good to keep the wimmens happy!

 

I know you wish you could rub my tummy.......yes, it brings good luck!

Mom caught me trying to bite, um, I mean, loving on B-cups tail.  *Sigh*, yes I know, our crazy mom named us after the "Princess Bride".  Teddy's lucky he doesn't get called "Inigo" or "Montoya"! Or after that crazy short guy, now that would serve him right!  "Never start a land war in Asia!"  Get it? He's Himalayan!  Gawd, I'm so funny!

Boy o'boy! This guy Teddy, what can I say, he's a big *koff*crybaby*koff*.  Always wanting mom to pet him, that nose is really brown, I tell you.  I'm on to him, it's all an act.

And B-cup, here, I think she's watched the Matrix movies too many times!  She zings around the house like she's got her own personal stash of cat-nip.......sigh, I wish she'd share..........

And another shot of me, for all my adoring fans.  I just saw mom get out the comb and nail clippers, and Oh no!  The scissors!  That means she plans to trim places she has no business being!  Now that's just rude, let me tell you!  Long and furry from the front, but I know what my backside looks like after she gets done!  I'm off to hide under the bed!

 

 

The Day He would've been 49.........

These are the last photos ever taken of him, 11 days before he died.
He had flown down to Palm Springs to visit his parents for the weekend.
He and his dad went to the Bob Hope Golf Classic, and he had a wonderful time.
He sent these photos to me.............by Fed Ex.
Just to rub it in, that he was in the sunshine, in the swimming pool, in January, and I was at work, in cold and rainy Oregon.
He called me on the phone, I could hear the chuckle in his voice, had I recieved any "important mail" that day?........"Who's sending me old man porno?" I asked him..........He pretended to be offended, and I scolded him for wasting 15 bucks on Fed Ex, the smart ass. But he thought it was worth it.............and now, I do, too.  Because I can't help but smile when I think of him, giggling in his devious little way, as he puts the Polaroids in the envelope. Sending them to the woman he most loves to torture...

Today he would be 49 years old.  I wish his birth-day and his death-day weren't so close to each other.  Death-day, Valentines Day, daughters birthday, my birthday, and now his birthday, all in 6 weeks time.  I am mentally drained and exhausted by the anxiety.

I wear those sunglasses, now.  I had his lenses taken out and my prescription put in.  I've worn them the last two years.
The lenses are packed away up in the attic.......with his toothbrush.......his shoe polish.......the swim-shorts in the photos, his life, his most prized possessions...........

The life of a man, a very good man, packed away in boxes, up in some attic.  Things that were important to him, or are attached to him in my mind, like the frog toilet seat cover that he got blood on when he cut his foot.  I was annoyed at him, "Don't you know I'll never get that blood out of the frog?"  "I was bleeding, for chrissakes!"  Now I thank the Universe for those brown spots on the frog......the ones that wouldn't come out when I washed it....the small things.

Is that what it comes to?  When all is said and done,...a pretty pewter urn up on the mantle, his name engraved on the bottom......  The big heart, great life, wonderful love..............all compressed into about a quart of ashes?  That's it?

I remember when the funeral guy gave him to me.....I unscrewed the top, and stuck my finger down into the ashes, swirled it around a bit.....so this is how he feels now....  The man I lay next to 4 days ago?  That I cooked for, laughed with, dreamed with. Loved with every fibre of my being..........this is all that's left??.............So surreal..... I'm holding a container of my husband.............

Funny, I never once, in 20 years looked at him and thought "My........He'll make such a nice decorative piece up on the mantle someday".  I never thought I would have to dust him.....dust him with my feather duster...... just never really thought about it.

Wherever you are, my dear, dear Bobbers,.... know that we're thinking of you today, the day you should have turned 49, and we're sending you our love, .......til we see you again.

Happy Birthday to my girl!  20 years old!  Wow!

This is known as "The day Kristy wrapped her dad around her little finger and tied him in a double knot", or shorter version, "The Day the Princess was born".  Look at all that hair! 

  A Bowlful of Happiness!  This was our

Christmas Card.

 6 Years old

One of my very favorites!  She hates it, for some reason....

 

 

  Cheerleader girl

 

My beautiful daughter.

Some Xangans also had B-Days!  Von and Dianna, so Happy Birthday to you two, too!

 

 

 

A note from my sweet man:

 

I love you so much more than I could attempt to express in the limitations of the language. Your understanding of my human frailty touched me as deeply as I've ever been touched and I'll never forget it. You mean so much to me. So very much. You help me to understand compassion more than ever before. There are times when I feel that our respective energies merge into one. This is new for me and I like it a lot. I look forward to sharing my life with you and vice-versa. I'm champing at the bit for meeting your family and for learning to embrace nature and experiencing it all with you. See you soon, my love.

Rick

When the time comes that I must leave you --
You, whom I love so much --
To go along my independent way
Without you,
Do not be consumed with sadness.

Speak of me with tears, please do,
But laugh also and talk of me
as if I were beside you.
(I would be there
If I could find the way.)
And when you hear a song I loved
Or watch a bird's swift flight --
Please let the thought of me
Comfort you.

For I will be loving you
Just as I always have.
(You were so good to me!)
There are many things I wanted us to do
And many things that I forgot to say to you.

Remember that I was not afraid --
It was leaving you that was so difficult.
We cannot see ahead -- what's there --
But this I know:
I loved you so!
I love you so!

                                                                                      Author Unknown

 

Robert McMillin
3-21-1956     2-11-2003
Beloved Husband,
Wonderful Father,
Faithful Son,
Friend to many
We Love you always
watch over us
and stay close

Got a card in the mail today from my old mother-in-law, who could never find a nice thing to say about me while he was alive, cried more at our wedding than she did at his funeral.  Critisized everything I did, from what I wore to what I did for Bob or the kids. Example - two posts back, there is a photo of Bob, Kristy and I when I'm pregnant with Bobby.  I am wearing a fucshia colored dress with navy blue what-nots on it.  She told Bob that night that I looked like a streetwalker.  Honestly.

Here's the note I recieved from her yesterday - I think I might frame it!

Shellie
I want to take this time to thank you for being such a good wife to Bob
Even Sonny doesn't call me "Precious One", like Bob did you.
Also, you have been a good mother to my grandchildren.
I really appreciate that.
Glad you and Sonny talk so much on the phone,
as I know it helps him.
I wish we could just skip February
Thinking of you
Joanie

I waited 23 years to hear that.............and now it breaks my heart.  Now I know for sure she has Alzheimers!  Sonny is the nickname she calls my father-in-law.  He's not quite as obnoxious, but more condesending. 

 

Waves of grief, whats going on around this anniversary - my daughter broke up with her perfectly nice boyfriend.  He is devastated, but we'll see how she feels next week.
My son started throwing up a little after midnight, and has been in the bathroom 3 times while I've been writing this.  My stomach churns like a washing machine, but no throwing up yet.
Bluesoid reminded me several times last night and this morning that he is here for me.
So sweet, he squeezes my hand as my nerves make me twitch.
I had to have him call and let a good friend know last night that I couldn't come to her party.
I ran over a concrete divider in my baby and broke it loose from the pavement and drug it about 6 foot.
Now, that was noisy.
I put the truck in drive instead of reverse and nearly ran over Rick last night.
OK, I'll shut up now.
Except to say "Thank you all, for being so kind to me".

Well, I must acknowledge the generosity and warm, understanding heart of this wonderful man.  He has gone out of his way to be kind and helpful to me.  I know it has to be tough, watching someone you love trying to come to terms with a mountain of memories, and the ghost of a dearly departed. This man is solid gold, and I love him a bunch.

I've been staying at night with my nephews, while my brother and sis-in-law are in Las Vegas.  That has been good for Rick, actually, because I've been pacing the floors (although he heartily disagrees with this summation), and had I been in the same home with him, I would have kept him awake.  But tonite he came and gave me bunches of kisses and hugs, and took me out for some dinner and "us" time for a couple of hours.  My son and his girlfriend cleaned on the house while I was gone, it is sparkling!  I really am so blessed.

And here's my girl, Penny, my sweet grey-beard.  She's an 8 year old Rott/Lab mix, and smarter than many humans I know.  My daughter picked her up out of a box of free puppies in front of a store one day in 96.  I swear she understands a couple of hundred different words and phrases.  I used to tell her to go get the kids or Bob for me, and she would go to the room they were in and growl at them to let them know I wanted them. "Go get Kristy", or "Go get Daddy", I would tell her, and she would come get me if Bob told her to "Go get mommy".  After Bob died, the kids would ask her "Where's daddy?" and she would whine and look around.  After a few weeks, she would go sit by his closet, where his clothes were.  I guess it was the strongest scent left of him.  She's been concerned about me the last few days, so I've been getting this look quite often:

About 3 months after Bob died, she developed an immune disease and nearly died, too.  I think her heart was broken from all of the sadness, and missing her dad, her bestest pal who would share his corndog with her.  She had to have a type of chemotherapy to kill her white cells and then two blood transfusions, and take Prednisone and some other meds for months. She also developed cancer in her ear, you can see in the photos that one of her ears is now shorter than the other, that is from the two surgeries to remove it.  I had to take her in every week for a blood test.  It cost me a couple thousand dollars and she was still dying.

I remember after fighting the blood disease all summer, she was so weak and thin, couldn't even stand up anymore.  I took her in to the vet.  The vet sat down beside me and said "I think she knows she's dying, and I don't know how to change her mind".  Now, I did NOT want another family member dying, was not in the mood for that at all.  I was so frustrated, I had drove her hundreds of miles, taking her to the ICU for dogs up in Portland, let her out to pee every 30 minutes for months (Prednisone makes them drink tons of water and feel hungry all the time), hid her food and fed her carrots, I was not about to give up!

So, I went home and I had a talk with Bob.........I went and sat by his ashes, and I told him that I needed him to come and tell her to stay with us.  I knew she missed him dearly, and he probably missed her too, but we NEEDED her.  We needed her here with us, we couldn't lose them both so close.  "So come on, Bobbers, tell her to stay, tell her to get well",  I cried and held the locks of his hair I have in a small box.

I know most of you are deciding by now that I'm insane.  I've laid so much of my life bare these last few days as I've struggled with memories, tears and regrets, but I would bet my life that he came and had a little talk with her, because she was remarkably improved the next day, and continued to improve rapidly.  In fact, the next time at the vet, she barked when the vet came in, letting her (the vet) know that she (Penny) was in no mood to be poked with needles or have a thermometer stuck up her butt ever again.  She still growls low in her throat when I exit the freeway where the vets office is!  Ha!  What a diva.

 

My daughter is 16 months older than my son, to the day.  Both born on the 26th of the month.  I knew I was pregnant with my daughter almost immediately, within hours.  I was nauseous, miserable, lost a lot of weight; so you can imagine how nonplussed I was to find I was pregnant again so soon.

But after a bit of queasiness in the first month, my stomach settled down, and the second pregnancy was easier, except for one thing.  This new baby seemed so large! My daughter weighed 8 pounds, but this kid was bigger. With each passing month I became more and more uncomfortable.  I told my doctor this baby felt so much larger, but he would run his little measuring tape over my belly, and say "Nope, you're just the size you're suppossed to be".

This was back before doctors had sonogram machines readily available, the only one in our area was at the county hospital, and my crap insurance would not OK for me to have a sonogram, because there was no proof of anything amiss.  Just me complaining about peeing my pants all the time.

The final straw was about 10 days before they induced me, I was in the grocery store, reaching up for a box of cereal, and the baby kicked me.  He kicked me so hard, he broke a rib on my left side, and I hit the floor, gasping for air.  That rib still protrudes to this day, there was nothing they could do for me.  Delivery is hard enough, but next time, try it with a broken rib, just for kicks!

Now we'll fast forward to D-day, they are starting to realize that I was not joking, this kid is pretty darned big.  They've been giving me Pitocin for 2 days, no food, no sleep, broken rib, no baby yet, and he is starting to show stress.  Now things start going wrong in a hurry, his heart stops for a bit, they realize his head is too big, can't get in the forceps, my heart stops, I remember alarms going off, blood pressure cuffs on both of my arms, taking turns squeezing the crap out of my biceps.  Now the doctor is saying something to me about my uterus starting to close up, and the baby has pooped, and it's really important that I get it together.  I think his eyes are awfully wide open, and I just want to check out from the pain for a bit, if they don't mind.  Really, doc, I'm just a bit tired, let me rest for just a second, it feels so good..............

Now, this seems strange.......Wow!  I don't feel anymore pain!  Wonderful, I feel so peaceful, just floating, relieved.  I'm looking down at the top of my doctors head, and I see he has a small saw in his hands, and is trying to figure out something on it.  He says something to one of the nurses, I can't hear it, and she's just wringing her hands, looking at me.  I notice the pretty barret under the net on her hair.  It sounds like it used to sound when I was a kid and would go down to the bottom of my aunts swimming pool, kinda muffly, but not silent.  So very, very peaceful, I don't feel concerned about anything.

Now the doctor snaps at the nurse, she jumps, and turns and gets something off of the tray behind her.  I look at the dust that is on the top of the flourescent lights in the room, "They need to get up here and dust these", I think to myself for a second, but I really dont care if they do or don't.

All of this has taken what? 2 or 3 seconds?  I see my husband leaning over me, I can't see my own face, he is in the way.  I see my gown is up, and I'm pretty indecent, but I don't care.  I just feel so nice, so relieved to be away from that pain.

All of a sudden, the side of my face itches, like a feather tickling, and I raise my hand to touch it...........

Just like that, I'm back, looking out of my eyes, hearing the alarms going off, the doctor's terse commands, the nurse telling me to do something, chaos.

But all I see is my husbands face in front of mine, inches away, and he is crying so hard, and between gulps he is saying to me "Please don't die, baby!  I can't live without you!  Please don't die!", so panicked and desperate, and I feel myself touching the side of my face where the feather was, and I realize it's not a feather at all........it's his tears, dripping off his nose onto my face, doing that little tickle thing they do.

And that, dear friends, was the moment I "knew".

___________________________________________________________________________________________

I'll save you having to ask and just tell you...he weighed over 11 pounds, and had a head circumference of a bit bigger than 17 inches.  And yes, we eventually got him out in one piece, but that is a story for another day, eh?  Oh, and he really, really owes his mom!

Bob, K, and I (about 3 months along with #2) (I'm looking at this, wondering where the hell that gorgeous neck went?)

Our big boy, about 2 hours old, some of the purple starting to leave his face, man, was he ever beat up!

Our bruiser at about 7 months old, I did his hair like Bozo! ha!

The four of us when he is about 7 months old. (Argh! My natural hair color! I turned almost completely silver when Bob died) I was struggling very much with what had happened during his delivery, because I had been raised and was still a part of a very strict Pentecostal religion, (Jesus only, as some call it) that frowned on people saying they had "out of body" experiences, and this "knowing" I had developed had me feeling very guilty.  Notice no wedding rings or jewelry, for those long time readers.

The three survivors now, as photographed by the great Bluesoid. Admit it, we are so freaking cute!

Well, I can't sleep, so I might as well write about the things I'm thinking of........I am, of course, thinking about my late husband Bob quite a bit, coming up on the anniversary of his death.  So I don't expect anyone to read all of this, I just need to let it out somewhere so maybe I can get some rest.  Feel free to go read a happier site, I really don't mind.

In the days after Bob's death, the phone rang constantly, the doorbell rang many times a day, we had 4 refridgerators and freezers full of food, and still more came.  Two and three different families a night would show up with dinner.  I ate very little of it, only what my mom put in my mouth with her fingers, coaxing me to chew.  I felt like I had been sucked dry, I was flat, like Gumby, if I turned sideways, I would be invisible.  So my esophagus was flat, and didn't want anything trying to go down, I would gag, choke things up.

He was an extremely well loved man, affable, friendly, the most unselfish person I've ever known.  He belonged to many service clubs - Lions, Elks, Rotary- in fact, his first year in the Rotary Club here in Eugene, the board of the club created a new "Rookie of the Year" award, and he was the first recipient.  I still feel pride when I think of them creating a new award just to honor his hard work.  He ran clubs at the high school, was in boosters, BBQ'd at the football games, always going, always volunteering, always helping.

My father sent his obituary down to a couple of papers in California, to the towns where we used to live.  The obit ran on February 14th, and his funeral was at 11 o'clock in the morning on Saturday, the 15th.  I was so shocked that morning, to see the people coming in to the funeral home who had got home from work on Friday night, read the paper, saw his obit, loaded up the kids and drove all night to be at his funeral the next morning.  Some had drove 12 hours or more.

So I'm not being overly sentimental when I tell you he was "much loved" by many, but especially by his children, his family, and myself.  There was not enough room at the funeral home for all the people who came.  And when they opened it up for comments, so many came up to say how much they loved him, and tell stories of what he had done for them, that they finally had to put a stop to it, because people were arriving for the next funeral, and there was no room for them.  They had had to move that poor lady's body out of the side chapel so that it could be opened up for seating for us.

And still the phone rang, and rang, and rang.  My family would answer the assorted house and cell phones......."no, she can't really talk right now, doesn't feel too well, OK, we'll let her know, thanks so much", they would kindly tell folks, and then they would mouth the name of the caller to me.  Most of them, I didn't feel any need to speak to, but a few had me reaching out my hand, trying to choke out a few words, crying, listening.....

One of those callers was Henrik, our very first exchange student, calling from his home in Sweden.  He came to stay with us the school year 88-89.  He is a surgeon now, happily married with two kids of his own.  I love him dearly, he has come to visit us three times since that year he spent in our home.  Our daughter was 3 and our son was 2 that year, and they drove him bananas.  Oh, the fond memories!

In our phone conversation, (well, he was talking, I was breathing), he said something that shook me to my bones.  He said "You always knew this was going to happen.  I don't know how you knew, but you did."  "What?", I croaked.  "You told me that year I lived with you that he would die young, that he would have a heart attack someday.  I thought you were crazy, but I've learned a lot over the years, and now I know you weren't crazy at all, you just 'knew'."  My stomach turned over, and I was filled with dread,........you see, I knew I knew.  But Henrik was wrong on one count, I hadn't "always known", in fact, I had only "known" for a couple of years when he came to stay with us.  I can't believe in my young craziness I told this foreign exchange student something like that, that I had spoke what I knew aloud to anyone.  But I guess I had.  Later, my mom told me I had told her, too, and that she herself had been told by a seer.

I had always in my heart said things like, "Well, 67 is young nowadays, I'll be 60 or so when he goes, and then a widow for 25 years or so...."  I really did that.  I would lie beside him, with my head on his chest, listening to his heart thump, and my mind would whisper "my enemy"....  And that was one of the first things I said, when I could speak.  There in the emergency room, I whispered it, while looking at his chest, covered in some blue goo.  "My enemy" had won, and death had come much sooner than I had been willing to acknowledge.

If I get enough mental energy, maybe I will tell you brave souls who read this what happened on the day that I first "knew".  As God is my witness, everything I am saying is true.

See that ring on that finger?

 

Whaddaya think about that?

 

 

 

The Valentine's Day I Cried

I sat beside him for hours.  Six hours, to be precise.  I stroked his hair, spoke to him in a low voice, reminding him of my love.  I straightened his jacket and tie.  I kissed him again and again, his forehead, his nose, his cheeks.  I couldn't bring myself to kiss his lips.

We had reservations at our favorite restaurant in town.  He had made them earlier in the week.  I reminded him of this fact, cursed him.  "Come on, get up!  Lets go!"  It was not only Valentines Day, it was also our half-year anniversary.  We were married on August 14th, 1982.  Each Valentines Day was extra-special, and we would always celebrate his putting up with me for another 6 months.  He always loved to celebrate, and never once did he forget an anniversary or birthday.

I thought about the hostess at the restaurant, holding our table, wondering where we were, probably irritated that her table was sitting empty; wishing with every fibre of my being that we could walk in together, hand in hand, order our favorite dishes and drinks, laugh and kiss, talk about the kids and work, about what we would do on the weekend.

Instead I nuzzled his cold ear.  He didn't look like himself at all, in fact, he looked terrible.  His mouth never looked like that!  Who did this to him?  I was dismayed.

I was glad only our closest loved ones and friends came to the viewing that night, I was glad I had decided to have him cremated before the funeral tomorrow, only his urn would be there when the crowds came.  He wouldn't be embarrassed by how unnatural he looked.  I comforted him with these thoughts. " I'm still looking out for you, baby, dont you worry".

People came and went that Valentines day, came and showed thier respects.  Some lingered, some quickly left.  I could hear them crying, blowing thier noses, comforting each other.  Our kids would come and lay thier hands on me, try to get me to come away for a bit, maybe get something to drink.  But I couldn't separate myself from him, I couldn't go sit in the pews, I had to be right next to him, the last day I would ever see him, touch him, kiss him again.  I don't remember when they gave in and brought me a chair, I don't remember who stood beside me to pay their last respects, who had to look past the tears and pain of his widow to say thier goodbyes to a wonderful man.

It was our 20 and one-half year anniversary...........and it was so, so wrong.  Like being caught in a bad movie, I lay there with my head on his chest, and I prayed to wake up, to "please God, let me wake up!".

Valentine's Day will never be the same for me.

___________________________________________________________________

Sorry to be so depressing, this is for Koffee Kween, so blame her!