Margm

I hate it if Christmas is sad. We see neighbors having happy times (although cannot be too many of them). We are all under a dark blanket holding us down. Then I think, I'm warm, I have TV, books, a family that sometimes aggravates, but most time just loves this old Grinch. I think about all those kids in cages at the border that their parents did not mean to lose them, but they only have strangers for family, and possible memories of hard times, but not alone times. Our life is painful, some of it is physically painful, the rest is mentally painful. I hope the people sleeping on the streets can find warm rags and maybe a box or shelter. I hope they don't go hungry, but some are too proud to ask for help. I have it easy compared to a real big bunch of people. I miss my Billy, especially the one I finally grew up with. I wish each of you a soft bed, enough to eat, and a warm roof over your head. The words "Merry, blessed" are words we have to define. Happy is not one of them. It is a holiday really signifying something magnificent. Does not help the loneliness and the day afterward will be just another day, and they are all just another day. I say I've got to go home when I'm visiting (used to visit), but there never was a home without Mama and Daddy, and then without Billy. My sister just left. She could hardly breathe. Another worry.

We called him "Billy the Kid" because after the kids were grown, he adopted Christmas as his own. I know I have put this picture on here before, but it is Billy and Christmas. He would take all of his presents, and the kids made sure he had a lot to open. And, he would be so slow, savoring every piece of tape to remove gingerly. All I could do was just shake my head. I actually loved it, but thought the kids could not afford it and I fussed at him. He quieted down about presents, but our kids actually loved his enthusiasm and I had to tell him I made a mistake, the kids (and family) loved his joy of opening presents. So actually, he was Christmas more than my childhood happiness, Santa coming to our children and grandchildren. He was all of our's "forever kid." Not only did he relish opening them, he had already said things he wanted next Christmas, for his birthday, Father's Day, etc. I'm just opposite. I'm so hard to buy for. I don't want anything and my enthusiasm is the same as The Grinch's. Maybe I just miss his happiness at Christmas and I really am a Grinch. I slide through the season and just want to get it over with. It is Brianna's favorite holiday. I love my family, but we all still miss "Billy the Kid."

Screaming into a pillow twice gave me such a headache. Not worth it. Now crying. I could do that until I could not breathe anymore and that release felt so good I had to be careful. I didn't want to catch my breath. Now I keep tissue in my pants pocket, roll of paper towels close at hand. I cry at cartoons, music, commercials, any kind of show, movie. I cry in Walmart, if I feel like it. One time I had an anxiety attack and had to stand fearfully at the back of the store where no one was. I did not need any help, I could cry just fine, all by myself. Still do. I cry on talk shows. Not a thing wrong with my tear ducts thank goodness. No one feels sorry for me. Everyone in my family can/and do cry at anything, everything. I love to cry at other people's happiness most of all. Kelli picked up my granddaughter from the airport and called me with videos of people, (probably getting too close), but you don't have to know them. We just are a crying family. Like I said, crying at happiness is my favorite thing, other people's mostly..

I'm sorry, sometimes I don't know how to post things. I liked this though.

Karen, for some reason my mom used to recite that poem to me often. I don't know why.😏

Billy's dad drove those tractors you see on interstate highways. He wore a hat, but was in the sun all his life. He had skin cancers removed all the time. One spread to his parotid gland and from there all over his body. Yes, it is important to have them checked. My aunt had them removed from the top of her hands. I have many I suspected but dermatologist said "no." My aunt, grandmother, mom and dad, then Billy and Kelli, we fished all our life. Hands directly in the sun. We should have worn gloves with fingers cut out.

Why not? We all fight the same battles. I once asked my neighbor, the one who helped me so much when Billy passed, if she had ever had any problems the long time they were married, with unfaithfulness. She was so sweet and truthful with me anyhow, when she told me "no," I had to believe her. While all my friends had bumpy roads in their marriages, it felt good to know someone who had a faithful marriage. My own mom and dad's marriage had a time after I was out of the house that they had counseling from their pastor. Did my dad "cheat" on my mom? I kind of figure he did. He was a friendly person, not sticky friendly, but he would go out of his way to help a woman that had car trouble, needed help otherwise. My mom? No, the last thing on any of our minds would have been her cheating. Strange, one night Daddy was working late shift, he did not have keys to the new back door yet, he knocked and Mama had been asleep and said "Is that you James?" My dad's name was Elvie. We laughed about that for years. Daddy was not jealous. They never fought over anything but money. No drinking or drugs. I never heard them fussing about the opposite sex. My mom "burned her bra" a long time before the feminist movement happened. Billy's folks fought about cheating until he died, then she had a date with the funeral director. We grieve the man we lost whether he was good or not. We look for the goodness and sometimes we find it. My grandmother loved my grandfather so much. I know I have mentioned she had the same kind of cancer I did. She also had seven children by him. The coma she was in while dying, she would murmur "I couldn't be a wife to him" and I'm so sorry she felt that way. Our treatment was brutal. She knew he ran around, she excused him and blamed herself. She carried that guilt to the grave. I have sinned, but I don't feel guilty against Billy, I feel guilty I have let myself down only. We do Karen, and you have had your share and more of grief. I'm so sorry. We cannot go back and change things. We cannot think "I should of" about anything. I still feel close to Billy, but he was no more perfect than I am. We weathered storms some people could not. We went a lot of times not liking each other, but he was me and I was him. Maybe my throwing his way of living back onto him, maybe it helped him see himself. He actually apologized to me and said he knew he was being mean to me. Like I said though, I did understand where he was coming from. I could not have stayed past those first nine years if things had not changed. Don't feel guilty about talking about your marriage. You have told the reasons he had to not trust women. You just suffered the abuse meant for those other women, and you are sweet and not as mean as I am. Every marriage has problems. None of us are perfect.

You also have to follow your brain, not just your heart. You are a very intelligent, human, woman. I sure cannot claim sainthood, in fact, I might have to crawl under the "pearly gates" but I will be there. To all who have followed and know about my daughters abuse from the "youth minister" now 36 years ago. I did everything humanly possible to help her. I even talked to a Catholic priest, who informed me about the battle the Catholic Church was having. A movie in 2015, called "Spotlight" is not easy to watch, but the true findings are serious. This new pastor that sent Kelli the pornographic pictures made a grave mistake. I do believe it was warring with his psyche. He had already been plagued by these "weaknesses" in other churches he had pastored with. He messaged proof of his "problem" and Kelli tried to go through the big church association, then his pastor (who needs training in identifying these problems). Finally, she went through a friend who is a detective in this division of the sheriff's department. Undeniable proof. He was arrested. The charges are serious and lifelong. He also seemed relieved, and yes, he was a member of our church those 36 years ago when she was being abused. She had tried to tell me "Mama, he is not that nice a man." That will always live with me. Then the OD, and I hit the road trying to find help. She has had 36 years of counseling off and on for PTSD. He did not try to deny it and said he would tell all he knew on the pastor from 36 years ago, and he was a teenager then.. He knew. Nothing can be done now anyhow. He is in poor health and has been in trouble with the low on other things. Kelli said please no jailtime. She wants him to get a proper amount of counseling. His wife was there and she wanted him arrested, so he is in his wife's jail. She used to be a nurse in the parish jail, she had classes for women that had been abused, so she has this experience. She is supposed to work on a program with the church association's group to "educate" pastors that do not seem to understand this. They do not suspect, or maybe they do and just do not know what to do. This is a load that she has carried for 36 years that has been lifted. I can say, sometimes we feel no happiness ever again. This load lifted off my middle aged daughter was one happy moment, a happy feeling for my girl's heavy load being lifted. She has many illnesses but she fights like a true Wonder Woman.

No offence whatsoever. We all had trouble with these strangers whether married to them 5 years, 10 years, or married 3-4 times.. Like a said, you have to kiss a lot of frogs. Sometime you live with a bear. Sometimes you tame him. Lots of changing on our parts. I know he planned more for my dying than I did his. I said we did not ever talk about dying, and that was because we weren't. But we did. I could not get him past 75. I gave it all I had. Right now, I'm glad we didn't know. I don't want to know. I can still see those arms held out to hold me one last time and I knocked his arms down and turned my back. He wasn't leaving. But he did.

I'm so sorry Karen. He had told me marriage was 25/75 and to guess which part was mine. He finally got tired of working two jobs though. There were some ridiculous times, but I recognized his insecurity. I knew where it came from. Did not stop me from getting my revenge. Even if he had never known, I knew it. Time came for him to know. Time came for me to "forgive" and he was not happy with what I did at all. So, I up and left. He did change. He actually became a good trusting man, he told me he knew he was not doing me right. At the end of the separation, I really was not sure about going back. The kids were grown. I didn't have to go back. It kind of reminded me of our going steady. I wasn't into it fully. He knew it and finally said, Okay, lets just stay away from each other awhile. I thought about it overnight and called him the next day and said I didn't want to stay away. I'm not the type that will take it forever, but I probably do things wrong. It was right for me though. Lots and lots of good years way outweighed the bad. We just grew up with our kids, and I understood "where he was coming from" and I know two wrongs don't make a right, but they did in this case. Can you think back about why he would have been like this? I knew why Billy was. And it took me being "wrong" to make him right. Wonderful father, no faults there, terrific grandfather, so much better than me. There was a lot of love in him. I did understand him, but don't regret what I did. Miss him.

Kay and Karen: I spent nine years in a mentally abusive situation. I would walk with my head down if I passed a man, Billy walked behind me. I was such a person though that fought back after awhile, when my time to "get loose" happened. Billy's mom (and dad) were very unfaithful. The kids in the family would follow her to see who her new boyfriend was. I let my feisty personality get beat flat. He would not let me use my business education. Instead, he worked two jobs for nine years. He took his thumb off me and it was "katie, bar the door." I think I am basically mean. I did things he did not know I was doing and laughing to myself. One time he questioned me and I laughingly said "what you don't know won't hurt you." He knew he had lost his control. Still, through all the crap we did, we had two kids we could not hurt. We unconsciously did hurt them. It took all those years for me under a therapist to finally tell him what, when, why and where. He left me and a friend told him "your just angry because she beat you at your own game." Lots of times we did not like each other, but we could not get rid of the love either. It all culminated in a six week separation that I was not sure I wanted to return. He did. I told him why, and also the shrink said I would not have had the courage without the amphetamines. I did hurt one person a little too much and if he is not dead, if I have not covered my tracks enough, I would still hear from him. He did not deserve this, and yet he was not innocent either. We were married for 54 years but were only totally happy about 35 of those years. I didn't need a shrink anymore and he and I could talk and then nothing was ever brought up again. I did right by staying. He became the best friend I ever had, one it is hard living without. But I still tell him everything. I'm sure he already knows and when I say my prayers to Jesus, I talk to Billy too, and somehow, I don't think either is jealous.

I wish I could find me. I'm not the frizzle headed (too many permanents), nor the 18-year-old, and definitely not the happy one with Billy. I would put Bri's picture, but I believe she has Native American blood. She is actually Amerasian and one of the most beautiful young women ever. She won't believe that. Very timid, and will be glad when she can face a human counselor, won't Zoom or Skype at all. I cannot find Marg anywhere, love that picture of Scott and Kelli, and so glad they get along and get along with me too. I am blessed, I know, but I still miss someone. I'm not me without him.

I'm sorry Kay. Unfortunately Billy, his dad, and myself were all so fair we could not tan. I kept a watch out on Billy, that is why his having cancer that had advanced so far was such a surprise. I took his blood pressure and detected a skip. I had him at the doctor, down the street from us, that day. An appointment with a cardiologist was fast. I actually diagnosed him with his high blood pressure coming from more than inherited. I had them check his kidney arteries. They thought I was a crackpot, but I typed symptoms all day long and diagnoses. The word "malignant" hypertension meant it would only get worse. I could not accept that. Turns out he had three kidney arteries with one doing all the work. I got hysterical and shut myself up in the hospital room bathroom. I asked the doctor had he checked his kidney functions. He made fun of me, I cried. He checked his kidney functions and had one of the first (maybe the first) kidney stent placements in that teaching hospital I worked for. He was in his early 40's. He would have died then. I cannot discount 43 years of typing diagnoses, histories, physicals, consults, clinic notes and all the symptoms. One I missed, a whitish mole on his shoulder. It was a basal cell cancer, and about the size of a dime, smaller. His back had been a problem since his 30's. But, I did not see his skin hanging, one of the signs of disease wasting a person away. None of his family lived past 70. I was going to get him into his 80's. He had two complete physicals a year, because of his kidney stents.. No signs of an aneurysm that I knew to look for, but he had one on the base of his brain. An old one. No symptoms off anything. I still believe it was the oral tobacco for so long. I keep hearing "can't cry over spilled milk" and all you can do is clean up. But you can buy more milk. God just decided to quit letting me play at his job. Keep those checkups. Pretty young lady, my friend.

I made AT&T promise me they would forever have flip phones. I have no idea what these numbers mean, but can tell you some difference. They kept their promise. I still have a flip phone, a new one. I could accidentally get on internet while playing with both of these phones. AT&T sent fear into me when they wrote everyone they would no longer be on the third tier, by 2022, I had to be on the 4th tier. I had my sister and I on the 3rd tier. I brought both of us up to the 4th, and my near PhD sister could not work it and I could not show her how because Bri had fixed mine to where I don't have to get on internet (wi-fi, or whatever they call it.). I am able to add in contacts. My younger sister, who teaches college students, was unable to do anything with it while it was costing me more each month. I had to drop her and she intelligently went to "Consumer ?" and bought a big phone. She does not know how to use it, but will after Christmas when she goes to get it activated. My son has started paying his insurance and I won't ask him to pay his phone unless he gets a new one. "I cannot ask" is a problem of mine. I can give, but asking is impossible. Same here Gwen. I had a football numbered shirt and remember getting into the stance in the front yard, only there was no one to play with. Possibly I was one of the first "trans" people around. I covered my dolls at night, had my playhouse built in the little pine grove with the perfect room. Distain for the pretty tea sets Santa brought me, I wanted tin cans, boxes, and rooms divided by pine straw, imaginary walls. I was at football practice for my dad's younger brother, all the games. My dad was winner of all kinds of awards, including golden gloves. I was on the sidelines with him for my uncles football games. I never had any problem with who I was. I was female. At that young of age I had "crushes" on my uncles friends. One little guy that ran the ball down the field with none catching him. He lived over on the other side of the creek (Bayou) and Mama picked him up hitchhiking one day. (You could do that back then, he was a friend). She told him how much I adored him. I'm sure my freckled red face was fluorescent, I hid down on those big floorboards. He thought it was cute. I was mortified. Unfortunately, I have the news on and they are so disheartening with our ousted leader trying to take control like we were in Venezuela. This world is not my world.

I gotta have my cell phone. Keys left pocket, phone right pocket. Always figured Mr. Dillon needed one and he would not have to send Chester 10 miles on horse to get Doc Adams. All I want to do is call and talk or answer phone though.

I bought a changer that was supposed to do everything. It didn't. We now use one for the Fire, one to change the sound, one to change channels.. I don't know how to use the Fire, even though she told me how simple. I had to change phones with AT&T, it is a flip phone, I know how to call, add people to it, but it also does a whole bunch other things. I think my granddaughter fixed it to where I can just call and answer. My fingers shake too much to text. I might venture out and change the ringer sound eventually. I can do the skype on it too, or zoom, or whatever they call it, but I won't. I have talked to AT&T till I'm blue in the face. I honestly spend off and on 13 hours one day. I have been with them 14 years. I stayed married for 54, I don't change very easily. They put me with John that has such an accent I cannot understand him. I have to keep having him repeat (this has happened so often), names change, always fictitious names, which is good cause I could not pronounce theirs.. Finally I have to tell them they need to transfer me to someone who understands my language. I speak "southern great grandma" English as my 2nd language. So, they do.

Not sure, but think Walgreen's or Office Depot might can put them on CD's. Kelli would know, but I don't know these things about things you stick in the computer (sticks) and all the other stuff. I know we can't do skype or zoom on this computer screen. I kinda like that. I will say my boobs know how to call Kelli on the Kindle. I went to sleep and the Kindle fell on top of my chest. I kept hearing Kelli say "Mama, Mama" and then Bri came in laughing. Somehow I had camera phoned Kelli in my sleep and she and Brianna were just laughing because I have no idea how to use the camera phone on the Kindle, didn't even know I had one. I kept seeing some ugly gray haired woman with half a dozen necks in the corner screen and Kelli hysterical laughing. I still don't know how to camera phone.

Dee, we have many home videos that I need made into CD's. I cannot open these boxes with his name on top. I don't want to look at what used to be. I have memory to play it in my mind often, do not want to see it again, but my kids would like that, I'm sure. The problem is, they are in one of these boxes I won't open.

Billy and I would go to bed most every night holding each other. Sometimes I would just reach to feel he was there. Today, waking up (staying up till 5:00 a.m., sleeping till 1:00 p.m.), the difference in bed times may have made me do this, but I didn't slide out of bed, as per usual, and have gone 1-2 days without waking up, trying not to awaken him. That is something that has hung around with me since he left, I don't want to lose it. This morning I physically turned over and reached for him. Woke up in the middle of this. No sexual feelings, just thought he was there for a moment in time. Did not see or feel him. Just an automatic reaction that used to happen. I'm no sadder than usual. I have my granddaughter and great granddaughter in town and I'm supposed to see them. I do not know where my feelings went. I do not show love like I used to, I'm not mean, I'm just "not there." Not even yet. I have a dread of being around them. It is like something that I should not do without Billy. I really feel like half a person and cannot show affection like I used to. It just won't come. Billy should be sharing with me. He was the lovable one. I mentioned the calamity that makes me never want to get close physically again. Most older women need this. I have nothing against it. Their business, and if they can find some new traces of being human again, I'm all for it. My elderly mother-in-law had a date with the funeral director after Billy's dad's funeral. My daughter spent her training and sometimes her jobs were in nursing homes. Gwen is probably familiar with this unusual behavior from volunteering so many years. Sometimes dementia brings on hypersexuality and it comes sometimes with strokes. Sometimes they had to go get Mrs. Jones out of bed with Mr. Smith. This really happens often, so sex does not die with loss of hormones, it rages in dementia patients some times. I think it is listed as ISB (inappropriate sexual behavior). I have skirted around my disabilities and a crazy thought came to me, "maybe there is hope for me yet" and that is said purely "tongue in cheek" as it seems like a horror of dementia. I miss the heck out of Billy, but because of my radiation injuries, I would hope to be restrained with soft restraints. It would physically injure me. This is a phenomenon that does happen often in nursing homes. Am I sad? Am I happy for them? Well, I think I might be happy for them if it provides an added satisfaction to our life.

I am going to address something in the "going through hell" section. Only because I know where to look, and feel most times I'm "going through hell" anyhow.

I wish a genuine smile and happiness could happen again as on this one day. Love the picture. We didn't even have pictures made. I have one of him at Kelli's wedding pinching me on the behind and grinning. Pictures sometimes make me sad. I've got to find them all so my granddaughter can take all of hers home with her.

You all know my story of my having to be at the Houston hospital when my little girl was 14. I trusted our youth director at the church. He even prayed over my dying father while he was preying on my child. It went on three years and came to a stop with an OD. We were involved with my dad having terminal cancer the same time I had mine. My brother-in-law kept my daughter and would take her to "church things." I cannot tell you what all we did, but at her age we didn't want it in the papers. She has been treated for PTSD for all these years since then, now off and on. Recently she got a message from a member of this youth group that she went to school with. It just so happened he is an associate pastor of a big church. They conversed about old times and then he told her of his weaknesses and sent her a vivid messenger picture from all sides. She tried to handle it through the church association. This time she had pictures and messages. She was not trying to trap someone and tried to keep it quiet. She went to his pastor who she tried to show the pictures, but he didn't want to see them. He called her back and wanted her to meet with him and two other pastors behind closed doors to get "at the truth." She is not a 14-17 year old innocent any more. She is a PTSD survivor and I am so proud of her. A female friend is a detective in the sheriff's office and was only too happy to handle the situation. There will be charges filed and a job lost and a family situation at Christmas that should not have happened. Yes, you have to be careful. This did not involve drugs or drinking, just a twisted mind. So, please do be careful, all of you. When I was dating, our only "drug" was alcohol. Billy was not a drinker. I would, at our office parties that he would bring me to because he knew he was going to have to drive me home. All it took was 2-3 and I was throwing up, so it was never a real problem. Now we have weird drugs that you cannot trust someone you have just met handing you a drink. I'm sorry we have weirdos out there, but we do. But there are some good, very lonesome people too that need help, just like you might need it. Sometimes being elderly is really a "plus."

I have two kids over 50. Both have had different relationships. I've learned about things I might not want to know, but now I am "woke." Strange, sometimes I still flinch when I'm told something I really didn't want to know. With my kids and grandchildren, I've been re-introduced to music. I was really country, when country wasn't cool. Now I am given different pronouns that when I was 18, were a foreign country. My granddaughter insists I come into whatever century this is. In 2014, my body finished up what started in 1982, and I scare doctors. Nothing below my waist (if I had one) can be fixed and I find myself looking at death sooner than another man. I have no desire or time for another relationship. Another strange thing, I do not regret it. Billy was very jealous and I'm afraid I'd really see him again. That is really a joke, because the desire is flat lined. I do know this. If I had not had the medical calamities that I have had, I still would not look for companionship. But, I doubt anyone is like me. I hope not. I do think for any woman, or man, looking for a relationship, there is someone out there looking for the same. The woman that manages these apartments, she is a cute middle aged woman that when I moved in she was so excited about getting remarried. I saw her happy wedding pictures. She had been a youngish widow of two years. I usually pay with a money order put into a secure box in an envelope. We have to make appointments to go into my credit union, so I paid with a check I signed, she filled out for me, because I shake. Her new husband from last Christmas was a victim of this illness and she was a widow again, she showed me his obituary card with his wedding picture on it. It had not been a year. She had told me of the land they had bought and the excitement of moving a mobile home onto it. She is now getting settled in the mobile home, alone. I feel like I've had all the relationships enough. I've still got Billy with me. In fact, he is on his table next to the computer. I have all his mementoes on that table, his awards from work, a sign I found, big, hanging above them that says "A TRUE LOVE STORY NEVER ENDS" and a beautiful cabinet, oak, glass covered with red velvet shelves that hold his precious hobby, different animal and bird "calls" on each shelf. Maybe it is a shrine. I have a very small Christmas tree with the little sparkling lights that don't burn out. They are on night and day. All year. I have a jolting little sign he wrote one day when he went fishing, I found while packing, on the front of his wooden urn that says "Love you, will be back by noon" written with a red Sharpie. I don't have a monument yet, but was given the deed to the little plot of ground behind Mama and Daddy, my grandparents, next to my uncle and aunt, and the kids know what to do when the time comes. They will mix us back together, and by faith, I have to believe we will already be together again. I do know some of you look for happiness again, and I do believe that is possible for you if you are open to it. Another word salad. Sorry. I am the Grinch, I hate Christmas, but I'm the only Grinch in our family, and I can fake it, maybe.

Maybe your mom is lost in her memories. The only time Billy has visited me was when I nodded off. One time he kissed my forehead, I saw his khaki colored pants, then he was gone. Another time also. Of course I know he is not there, but it felt so real. Sometimes I'm afraid to nod off. I spent my first months reading this forum and other books written by widows or widowers. Martin Short's was the best. It was humorous, but you could feel his pain too.