Margm

Bless her heart, she did not think it through, but it was sweet wanting to get together. Sometimes I get an idea to do something, to go see someone, then I think of the small anniversary party planned because the elder husband's dementia was progressing so fast. It was 28, counting children, they were all semi-intelligent people, just wanting one more reunion to remember. And, it was one to remember. Twenty-four came down with COVID, one of the people serving had it, did not know it. The anniversary couple both passed away within a couple of days of each other and the older man who wanted to see his great grandchildren passed also. I do think my granddaughter might have agoraphobia, and not sure about myself. It is hard to remember...........we just can't get together, not even to remember the good times. We cannot.

As long as we have twitter, I don't think anything will change. Mr. Twitter will give us four more years of ignoring what he says and besides, without him, where would SNL and our late night commentators be? Kelli keeps her poodle almost completely shaved with wearing of long vests to cover down to her tiny hips. She took a picture the other day of Nawlins laying by her doggie bowl. She had to hold whole foods (doggie whole foods) from her for a few days and feed her only chicken and rice, so when she let her have her doggie foods, she lay down beside them and would not get up. Was not going to take her food again. She got her a coat with a fur collar and I cannot show you that picture, it is a GIF and I don't know how to put them on here, but she had the most disgusted, woeful look turning around like "look what she has done now." That dog is more than a fur baby, she thinks she is human. When my mama had Alzheimer's she would jump up in her lap and lay against her heart and Mama just loved the "kitty" so much. Kelli took her over almost every day and she would light up and they would love on each other. She was apricot colored when a baby but is a darker white now. (I should not say "shaved" but she keeps her hair clipped short).

My Kelli keeps a clean house. She washes all Scott's hospital clothes (works at VA), changes his sheets and pillow cases, sprays everything down with Lysol and keeps her floors clean. With two fur babies on her heels at all times, I doubt it is totally spotless. She does a lot more than I do. Brianna just warned/asked nicely for me to leave the tops on the spray Pam. Its easier to use without the top on it, but I am "Moonbeam McSwine" remember. She keeps the kitchen clean and won't go to bed at night unless everything is in place. My bedding is clean, but I sprayed it with Febreeze anyhow. I have to get me a bar for my tub so I can shower. It is a big step-down and it scares me. I have a chair in the tub. I can shower standing up, but ever so often I like the chair. Other than that, I do PTA baths. The thing is, Kelli bought her a $9 salad yesterday and promptly dropped it on the kitchen floor. She did not cry over "spilled milk" and promptly put the salad back in the bowl and ate it. Brianna was horrified. She is not sick yet, so I guess it was okay. She uses Clorox mostly, but Lysol liberally in spraying things down. I voted. Am I a patriot? We are not supposed to talk about politics or religion, but I like religion a lot better than politics. I'm turning the TV to Netflix and animated movies. More my speed. This other stuff I believe might be the cause of dementia.

In the 1930's. I never knew the people in front. Knew all about them and their history. My grandma's father was her favorite person. She got married at 15. My granddaughter thinks it is scandalous that my grandfather was 12 years older than her and thinks he was a pedophile. She was engaged at 13. They just "lived fast, died young and left a beautiful memory." No, wish it had been that way but my grandmother had 7 kids in 10 years and had cancer, sepsis, nervous breakdown and a bunch more. Out lived my grandfather about 25 years or more. They had passed down my name from generation to generation and I guess I broke the chain. The man in front got the first vehicle and people were always having to rescue him. He thought the whole road was his and if a car was coming toward him, it better pull over. He rode the center of the road.

When my cousin was doing our genealogy she wanted to find out one certain group and we grew up with them in the small surroundings. They took DNA from two younger members of each side of the family with this name. Turns out brothers had turned against each other many, many years ago. They were cousins, we were kin. No one knows what the fuss was. But we found out we had two 1st cousins that did not seem to welcome us as much as we welcomed them. My uncle, their dad, and their mom both had passed away. Both were very successful, so someone raised them with self-respect. I'm sorry, but years ago they would ride their horse just so far.

Ana, hope I didn't confuse things or screw up the whole forum. If anyone can do that, I can. I hope I moved it to "going through hell" part of the forum. Thank you for your words, but I doubt very much of the USA was like my family. I came from a paper mill town in a small area of the south that when my folks went to Shreveport (Louisiana), it was like going to the fair. So big. We didn't go but once or twice a year.

I don't know if I can move stuff, but I'm going to try. My mama's family was the most country family. No town anywhere close, way out in the woods and corn, cotton and in season sugar cane fields coming right up to the back of the house and also the country store. I had my "crawdad" stream under the bridge. I drove by last month and saw a small bridge but only pine trees growing all over the fields as a pine tree crop for some of the relatives, although most all the people are so far away only their relatives will get any benefit and it was a wonderful play land for all the grandchildren that have grown and some gone. Mama sold her land to a lumber company. But they were such a fighting family. I remember Mama having big fights with her sisters over a digging hoe, black iron skillet, a rescued baby bed, and something going on all the time. My grandma wrote her will on a Big Chief tablet using a #2 pencil she kept at her little country store. She wrote a letter to them all. She had left each of them some money she had saved from that little store and over double-digit acres of land for each.. They had to draw out of a hat which part of the land each one got, and the furniture divided. Now mind you, this was all home made furniture, except the 1928 "girls" room bedroom furniture. It was "store bought" and I guess, a prize. Kelli has the two pieces that I stored in a shed that I did not know had a bad leak. We saved the dresser and chest of drawers, but the rain ruined the bed. In her letter to all of them, she begged them not to fuss. Well, those words were just "blowing in the wind" because they never gave up the fussing. The worse it got though was when she was a teenager my mama threw the fork at her brother for spitting watermelon seeds at her. It stuck in his head right between his eyes. He had a scar the rest of his life. And Mama fought until she was 95-years-old. They put her in a seat that was supposed to hold her up and steady her for feeding. It was like a child's high chair. No matter how tight they fitted it, we would watch this mischievous 95-year-old Alzheimer's child wiggle around until she would get her legs out and on top of it. We had lost her with her mind many years before, but my sister would not put her in the nursing home. (I would have). My dad's family were just opposite, they were so sweet and didn't understand that backwoods woman he brought into the family. She wasn't loud, she was just mean. She hated my dad's mom and that woman never fussed with her, and that exasperated my mom. As I got older, I would shut her up about my grandmother, the woman really was what you would dream for a grandmother, she really was an Angel and Mama hated her that much more. Probably another of my repeater stories. As long as I can remember it though, that is in my favor. If I forget it all, I'm in trouble. Just so you don't think I'm making up these characters, this is four generations (about 10 generations ago), I knew two of them. Older woman in front is my great-great grandmother who delivered over 10 kids before epidurals, probably before doc came. She outlived her husband a bunch of years. Next to her is her son, my great grandfather, behind him my little grandmother who I take my "fluffy" body shape from and my namesake beside her, my aunt.

And the last post should have been under some other topic. I'm sorry. \

I hope I did not screw things up too much. I copied and pasted this under the post I made many months ago. I felt like I was slinging my word salad all over someone else's grief. I'm sorry.

Gwen, I think that happens often. I am about 9-1/2 years older than my sister and she had some bad times. Our parents sometimes were distant and sometimes really troubling to both of us. We were close when she was very young but by the time she was 10, I was married and out of the house, so she had to contend with them a lot longer really than I did. Daddy and her argued religion all the time and she was a "new age feminist" where I was an old age beat down coward around them. We are in touch 2-3 times a day with her living in the same apartments and it is like I have my baby sister back, but it is also like I am so afraid of losing her. And Karen knows, and my heart hurts so for Karen, but I don't want any of my babies to hurt, and they are all my babies, even though she is 69 now. She still teaches and I wish she didn't have to, but at least it gives her reasons to fight where with this virus, it would be so easy to give up. And I know, everyone on this forum have wanted to give up more than once, twice or three times. I just want you all to know I admire the heck out of all of you for keeping up the fight. My daughter can be my bother so often and my son, and my grandaughters too, but they are all why I'm still here and I don't want to lose any of y'all.

Oh Ana, I'm so sorry you had to go through all that. And, it only makes my mind more resolute that I will definitely have no memorial service or anything. I know my grandmother's request was that she wanted no silk flowers ever. It is a huge country cemetery and I think I will go plant some of those bulbs of the "suddenly flowers" and I don't know what they are called, I know spider lilies for fall or summer and around Easter there are some pink ones that bloom overnight. No one but the Angels will see them because everyone has died or live too far away...........but, I don't. I'm going to do that. I look forward to it. It is not on a grassy hill or anything, in fact, it is called Salem Cemetery and it is located in a loosely thrown around community called "Red Land" because, I think of all the red iron rocks that make up the land in what they call foothills of the Ozarks, but the Ozarks are a long way from our bayous in this part of Louisiana. I can't grow anything, but maybe if the Angels help me.

I am afraid I won't be able to turn it off if I try it. Billy would know. He's not here. I'm not sure Scott would know. He spaces out sometimes. No drugs, unless it is what the doc gives him as an antidepressant. After the fiasco with me not having enough sense to take the car out of neutral, I have not driven. I will though.

We waited until a year later. His old fishing hole, his old home bayou, family and friends released balloons and Kelli jumped off the RR trestle that went across the water. I guess if we had had liquor it would have been a Bayou Billy memorial, but he would not drink, and no one else did either. My mom's was quiet also, but she outlived all her close relatives at 95 and my uncle, her brother-in-law made it a graveside services with what family we have left. I just want to go quietly, but there are still some people that feel the need for services which I guess are meant to help those left behind. My dad had a big Masonic funeral and the family sat separate behind a side in front of all the people. I had cancer at the time and was weak from treatments and Billy and Scott were on each side of me. I just remember seeing people trying to see "the family." It was then I decided I wanted to leave quieter than I came. I hate the lengthy planned services. Billy was a private person so the memorial get together was for Kelli, the rest of us understood going quietly. It is up to the different people, I guess. My uncle wants the funeral, his wife wants the quiet, cremation. Mama wanted the quiet. My little cousin had alcoholic poisoning, was not a bar drinker but got the addiction and could not stop. At her funeral, big, the pastor, a family friend, long-time pastor mentioned her falling by the wayside. Only my love for my aunts made me keep from walking out of the services. Her young children were at the services. My mind was made up then.

I tried to let the 17th just slide on by. Scott went into his depression with his bipolar though and I could not make it any other day than just all of them are the same. He is coming out of it some now. He just gets quiet and holds it inside. Billy was like that, but would never have admitted to being depressed. He had high blood pressure and as head of the laboratory where he worked he would not have anyone do anything he wouldn't do. He retired and his blood pressure all of a sudden was normal. Of course it later on came back because of his kidney arteries. My heart is with you Gwen because no words help at all.

I have lived 78 years and have lived through my parents death, didn't want to live through Billy's, and this pandemic is something I've never faced and feel if I am alive still, I wonder why is all this happening now. I know I would be doubly worried for Billy, but this week was slippery with having to tell my sister (who would not let me take her to ER), having to tell her to call 911 as they could get oxygen to her. Not being able to call her. Talking got her out of breath. If I could not talk to her, was I going to find her body. She stopped the UTI antibiotic and can breathe. She has to talk to her doc. Then Nawlen's, Kelli's fur-baby that acts human, emergently was taken to vet and Scott paid for whatever was needed to save her life. It was a stomach infection probably caused from her picking up pecans that had been in, what the vet called "flying rats" mouths. She came so close to losing her fur baby over 10 years old, a tiny, tiny poodle. She is so smart and Kelli was crying. Because of COVID Kelli could not stay with her baby and I cannot go with my sister. I remember Mama being so scared of polio for me, people thinking it came from being in the sun too much (my people), but this time in my life I don't understand. My son has to work where there are COVID patients and he is scared he will bring a virus to his mom and I'm afraid even with precautions that he will have it again. So, I guess we are all living in fear. And I don't understand politics, even less than I understand religion. I will vote. I tried reading up on all the labels and what they mean and thought I might be a socialist because I want everybody to have health care and medicine without all this crap we are going through. I want no children to go hungry. I want people to have a safe place to live and not be scared of their surroundings. I want everyone to be warm when it is cold outside, to have a breeze when the weather is too hot. I just want people to be able to live without fear and all the kids on the border to have their parents. That is not going to happen. The hurricane is going to flood part of Louisiana, we have rain, but we are safe.

I'm so terrible about mail I have drawers of unopened stuff. I need to throw it all away but I used to could burn things, I cannot anymore. I need to invest in a good shredder cause nothing I have really needs opening but I am so paranoid, I don't want my address in the trash. I still get things addressed to Billy ever so often and he never lived here. In my email I just go through and if it is a utility, my insurance, or a friend, and this group, the rest I delete.

When we lived in the mountains four years we walked to the end of the forest service road (which ran by our house) and in a grove were crow skeletons. I don't know if it was where they came to die (Billy didn't know either), unless someone shot a bunch of crows and dumped them. I think they think they are bothersome birds, but I think they are probably the most intelligent bird.

Well, I got 3-4 hours. Kelli's fur baby had to be taken emergently to vet and thought she was going to lose her. She has been crying all morning but finally some good news. She is pepping up after the IV's.. A stomach infection. She had lost so much blood they thought they were going to have to do a blood transfusion. Believe me Gwen, we old people don't feel superior at all. We just know we are closer to the end and you've got more fight in you than we do. Nawlin's (fur baby) is at least 11 or 12 (cannot remember right now). If I take a nap (I think this is Tuesday, I will think it is Wednesday when I wake up and I lose more days that way. I have been known to take medicines twice. I hate no structure at all. I'm not good at structure when there are normal times and I don't remember close to normal, or what it was, or what it used to be, or if there is such a word.

I was in full panic mode. My insurance would have sent someone out. I wanted to call Billy, but thought I better call Scott, then I saw the two people. Glad I didn't get him out there since he is 30 miles away. He would have never showed me I was a bother to him, but stupid me just needed to put it in park. All of our Walmart parking aisles are marked or I would never find my generic gray car. It's when I get checked out and know then I forgot to check. I wanted a red car but felt gray would be less conspicuous if I was speeding. I think thousands of other people thought that too. It is a very generic short car.

I loved calling up the crows with Billy. They are so intelligent. One time I saw them chase a bobcat across the road. Billy had lots of crow calls and would talk to them. He would give a distress call and the crows would all come as if to help a crow in distress. They saw it was humans and I swear I could hear them cuss us out as they were flying away. No guns.

This pandemic has the whole world in a hold pattern. I can't get over the young man (middle aged actually) setting up a small gathering for his elderly parents and the great grandfather wanting to see his great grandkids. With 24 out of 28 having the Covid and the poor man's mom and dad both passing. The great grandfather passing also. I cannot find my aunt's grave because of all the new graves. The unanswerable questions of how, why, when, what have left us all in a depression. We just have to live until we can't. Nothing we can do.

I don't like to drive after dark. I really get scared. This started right after Billy left, so has been going on for over five years. I cannot see as good with the headlights coming toward me. I had two things to get at Walmart. I had let the time slip up on me and needed my headlights because it was dusk. I stopped the car, turned off my headlights and had a frantic moment. Car would not give me my keys, motor would not turn on at all and I was frantic. I saw two younger people and explained my problem. The young woman got in the car, took it out of neutral, put it in park and of course it started. I had lost my reasoning in a panic attack of my own doing. It was getting dark and I was scared. I was not thinking. They were so sweet to me. They did not make me feel like an old fool. (I was). With me anxiety is like swimming. I can't because I will get anxiety and drown. That is how I live too, I get anxiety and I drown. I might say, I did not take a Xanax, but I did get out of breath with my mask and Walmart making us go in the far door. I did remember (sometimes I forget) to look at my parking aisle number. I have a gray car and it looks like every gray car parked in the parking lot. (All of them).

Somehow or other, moving from that quiet house in the little coves and hills where nothing was heard but the sound of birds and maybe little animals, moving into an apartment house where there is a big wall across from the apartments, there is some kind of dog that barks constantly (I have not seen him, but he sounds big), not too much children's noises right now. Somehow hearing the noises I did not hear, hearing people getting up to go to work and maybe sitting with a cup of coffee out on their patio, where they cannot be seen, but are heard, just somehow that made me believe in life again. Billy had left me in that huge house, on that beautiful lonesome street, and the quiet was louder than anything I had ever heard. It was good when it was me and him and various family members at one time or the other. I fed the birds, the squirrels, we would identify any new birds and here I am. I have the biggest patio of any of the apartments. I've never been out on it. I cannot feed the birds anymore, that was mine and Billy's hobby, I do not want an only one hobby. I do hear life though. I didn't hear it after he left me. We are all so different, yet we are all the same. We miss someone so terribly we sometimes hide from life. I know I do. I need to be out walking with my trekking sticks. I know I cannot go far, but maybe a little further ever so often, so, why won't I do it? I don't need to dig this hole any deeper..

I have put myself into self hypnosis, I guess, once in my lifetime. It was back when we had cassette tapes and I had a set that was sold at my university hospital library, at the hospital I worked for. Cancer's uncertainty, my life's uncertainty drove me into anxiety attacks where I actually did leave a shopping cart full of groceries in a waiting line at Krogers and fled to my car, to home. I had to go to a psychiatrist, but the most helpful were those three cassette meditations. I actually could float on that cool soft cloud, and I felt it. When Billy passed I tried all meditation. (plus pills). That was when I had the plugs in my ears, had fallen asleep to the meditation, and my family could not make me answer phones (I could not hear them) so they (police) were fixing to knock down my door, ambulance waiting. Don't know what is wrong now but even with medication that has worked for five years I get the "heebie jeebies" (what I call them) around daylight. And no, I have not slept. I read. Medication did not take ahold. I was hearing people talking (we have balconies for each apartment), the outside is lighted with enough light you would think it was daylight. Each corner off the apartments have motion lights. So, last night I went back to the earbuds. First time since the police scare. I kept having to change meditation sounds. Some aggravated me but the soft guitar sounds had me asleep in no time. During the night I knocked them off. Perhaps I will try Marty's suggestions. We are very safe in a low/no crime area and tight locked windows with shrubs in front that would hurt anyone that tried windows. Balcony door protected. Hope it is just a phase. Billy did not have a bit of imagination or supernatural belief about him. I did. I think he took mine with him when he left. Addendum: I go back and reread my posts and I am tending to repeat myself often. Just ignore. I remember my little Mammaw used to repeat herself so often and her daughters would fuss at her. I didn't want them to fuss at her. I am my grandmother's granddaughter.

We know how much our mates are missed. I could not understand why this #5 was any worse than the others but my son is just now coming out of his deep depression. I hope. Every holiday and important date just tears whatever scar tissue we have built up. I was wondering last night. I am a Christian and Heaven is a great mystery. I looked up at the blue sky with clouds and I wondered out loud to Jesus and to Billy, do they know and do they care how much we hurt. I have no answers, just continual pain in my heart from missing him and his wonderful job of being the best dad any kid could want. My heart is with you today, and every day.