Category: Junk Drawer

Documentation

~ Lenore Diane ~ Leave a comment

FYI: In case you are following my journey, know that this post is unrelated to my journey posts.

This is a post about what I realize is one of the many reasons I write: Alzheimer’s disease. Well, I’m not writing about Alzheimer’s, rather I am writing about why I want to document my thoughts and experiences about life. In the future, should I be diagnosed with a memory stealing disease like Alzheimer’s, I want my kids to know what I thought about friends, family and life. I want my kids to know I loved them. (And, I’m okay with them finding out what annoyed me.)

I started writing this post several weeks ago. I was inspired by at story I watched on CBS Sunday Morning, ‘Jan’s Story‘. Because I was afraid many would find the post too depressing, I held off making it public. However, because of some news I received today, I have decided to publish this post.

What news did I receive, you ask? I know, you didn’t ask, but I am going to share some of it with you, nonetheless. A friend of my nephew was murdered yesterday. Her life was taken away by her Mom, who then turned the gun on herself. My nephew is grieving. This 19yr old was murdered by her Mom, and then her Mom committed suicide. Her Mom committed suicide. Suicide.

Me and my favorite guys - the ones I love the most.

I’ve considered suicide. I have seriously considered suicide. I’ve planned suicide. I know what it is like to be in the black hole that is all encompassing. I know what it feels like to believe wholeheartedly there is no way out but death. And, by the grace of God (and the support of friends and family), I held on to my life; I found my way out of the black hole.

Because I am alive today, I can look back and recall very recent memories of laughing fits that left me with a belly ache. I can recall recent warm fuzzies where Joe and Charlie gave me ‘around the neck’ hugs. And, I can remember many nights this Summer, helping Joe and Charlie catch fireflies. These precious moments were inconceivable to me, while in the depths of despair; but, because I faced the black hole, I was left to live in the light.

As I type, my youngest has a pillow propped up on my arm, and he is lying beside me watching a movie. Soon, I am going to give both him and his brother a bubble bath. We are together, and I am thankful I am still here to be with them.

I want my kids to know the good the bad and the ugly in life. I want them to know when they experience moments, hours, days or weeks that suck, there are more moments, hours, days and weeks that don’t suck. I want them to know that just because you yell at someone at the top of your lungs, it doesn’t wipe away the intense love you feel for the person. And, in case I am not around, mentally, to tell them my take on all of the above, they can read about my thoughts and experiences.

Regardless of how it happens, death will find me. However, death will not find me by my own hand. Suicide is not the answer. Suicide is not the answer. Suicide is not the answer. Yes. Sometimes it is pitch black. Sometimes death seems the only way out. I get that. I completely get that. But it is wrong. Death is not the only way out. It is not. Someone will lend you a hand. Someone will hold your hand as long as it takes and as often as it takes to keep you going. Just reach out. I will hold your hand. Even though I don’t know you.

Do not commit suicide. You will hurt more people by leaving than you will by staying. Killing yourself will do more harm than good. Suicide is a cruel and selfish act. You are not cruel. You are not selfish. Do not do it.

Going back to Alzheimer’s, my hope is that I recognize and don’t forget who my loved ones are as death approaches. But, just in case, Joe and Charlie, whether or not I remember your face, your name or your role in my life, I don’t want you to ever forget that I love you. You will always be in my heart, even if my head forgets.

P.S. Remember Joe and Charlie, do NOT commit suicide. Reach out. A hand will be extended and willing to help.

A trip to the gas station

~ Lenore Diane ~ Leave a comment

After I picked up some groceries, I drove to the gas station, located in the same parking lot. I love the convenience big chain grocery stores provide by also selling gas. When I pulled up, I noticed an older lady (around 78 yrs old) standing behind her car, while a younger ‘older’ man filled the car with gas. He was the gas station attendant, and he was helping this older woman.

I got out of my car, and I started filling my car with gas. I heard the dialogue between this man and woman. She was telling the man about the car, which she and her husband bought 10yrs ago, with the hope of taking it on long trips. Then she said, “But then, he had a stroke and that was it. He had his own business, too; and, it was doing really well.”  As I stood by the car, trying to be discreet with my eavesdropping, the woman said, “She can pump her own gas.” ACK! I was caught!

I smiled to the woman. Then I heard her to yell to someone across from me, “He’ll be with you in a minute. He’s helping me pump the gas.” I looked over in the direction she was speaking, and I noticed a guy, probably in his late 30s, waiting for the gas station attendant to return to the cashier window.

He smiled and said, “That’s fine. No problem.”

Then the woman looked at me and said, “My husband and my sons never let me fill the tank. They would always carry (yes, she said carry) the car to the gas station for me.”

Still smiling, I said “That was nice of them.” Then she said, “Well, yes but my husband died and the boys grew up, got married and moved away from home. They all left me.”

I chuckled a little and said, “How rude.” She smiled back and said, “Rude and hateful. Just hateful.” And, we both laughed.

The attendant finished filling the tank, and I watched the two walk over to the cashier’s window. “Thank you for your patience,” the woman said, as she approached the waiting customer. “Oh. No problem.” He said. And, as I got in the car to head home, I heard her say, “I suppose I could have filled the tank myself, if my life depended on it.”

I enjoy moments like the one I had at the gas station. And, I enjoy the friendliness and generosity of good-hearted people. There was a time when a gas station attendant would always greet a driver at the gas pump. Gradually, the full-service gas station went to the wayside, though not before giving the driver a choice between self-service and full-service.

I remember those days, and I am certain the guy waiting at the cashier window remembers those days. But, nowadays, I know there are more people that don’t recall the days of the gas station attendant. And, those younger folks would probably not be as patient or kind as the guy waiting for the attendant. I am glad the attendant was willing to come out of his ‘box’ and help this woman. I wish more people would come out of their ‘box’ and help others, too. Or, if people prefer to stay in their ‘box’, perhaps they could be patient and kind while someone else lends a hand.

Whine Not

~ Lenore Diane ~ Leave a comment

Dear Blogary,

When the boys were infants, I tried to let them cry it out for a little while, when I put them to bed. Listening to them cry was tough, not because I found it annoying but because it broke my heart. And, because my heart was breaking, I would cave more often than not. Rob was better at holding out. Figures, eh?

Well, the boys are older now, Blogary. They are no longer at the age where they cry themselves to sleep. Or are they? Our youngest seems to see bedtime as the perfect time to do a whine/whimper/cry sort of thing. You know how the screeching of nails on a chalkboard makes a horrifically annoying noise? Blogary, Charlie’s whine/whimper/cry is worse. 20-gabillion times worse.

Some nights, when we put the boys to bed, Charlie may call for Daddy in a whimpering sort of way. While he whimpers and whines, I rock back and forth on the couch, doing my best to block out the noise. And Rob? He’ll just sit there, watching TV and/or flipping through the few channels we have. He never flinches. Never. How does he do that? Rob holds out, and Charlie eventually stops. But seriously Blogary, how is Rob able to ignore it?

Sometimes, Blogary, Charlie will start with his whining and whimpering banter, and I will take to the laptop, typing quickly, in an attempt to drown out the noise with the loud ‘click click’ of the keyboard. And, when that doesn’t work, Blogary, I take my anxiety to the freezer; I grab hold of Ben & Jerry, hoping to eat my way through Charlie’s whimpering whines.

Argh! I cannot stand the crying, whining, whimpering. Cannot stand it. When does it end? I thought this sort of thing would pass after Phase 2 – the toddler phase. Good thing Charlie is a super cute kid. Still, here’s hoping he gets through this phase sooner rather than later. Fast. Like, yesterday.

Love,
Me