a man and his dog…

Pappa is an 85 year old gentle soul of a man.  Sammy is his 14 year old canine companion.

They are inseparable.

Last year Pappa had a heart attack…or was it 2?  I can’t remember.   He lives on his own, his bride passed away about 10 years ago.

Pappa is a fiercely independent man, or at least he was.  He cooked and cleaned for himself.  Drove himself to church and grocery shopping.  Pappa even had a lady companion J

But his heart attack was near fatal.  He has a pacemaker now…which gets all hot if he sits out in the sun too long lol.  Kinda cute.  His license was taken away from him and now he relies on his children to come over and maintain a house he refuses to get rid of.  When you talk to Pappa you have to talk reallllllly loud.  Even with his hearing aids he is still very hard of hearing.

Sammy is an old guy…he’s about 98 in dog years.  He was just diagnosed with a tumor in his anal gland.  Pappa is at his wits end.

Sammy is also almost completely deaf.  Seeing Pappa talk to Sammy is quite amusing…Pappa is so soft spoken he is hard to hear on a good day.

They make quite the pair.

Pappa is more worried about Sammy than his own health.  We do know that once Sammy dies, Pappa is not far from following.

There is something so endearing about the two of them.  Pappa is gentle with Sammy…and Sammy is most loyal to his “daddy”

They have been through the ringer together….

When I was there over the weekend, Pappa was in his chair…and of course Sammy in his own, and I heard Pappa say:

“Life couldn’t be better eh Sammy boy, you in your chair, me in mine…life is good”

Yes it is Pappa…life is good.

strength…

Since I turned 30, my body has changed.  I guess everyone’s changes.  When I turned 30 I had 2 major surgeries 4 weeks apart.  3 years later, I had another major surgery.  I was poked and prodded at least monthly for a good year or 2.  So much in fact that it just didn’t phase me anymore.  Since this I have been able to listen closely to what my body is telling me.

So I am back to a specialist on Monday.  I am not scared about the appointment or of the tests…like I said…this lifestyle has become the norm for me.

I do get scared about getting answers I really don’t want to hear.  I do get scared that I may need to face yet another surgery.

I have taken each blow with grace and with strength.  I struggled but I made it. And I suppose that I will continue to grow and become stronger than I was before.

I am a lot stronger than what I give myself credit for.

I’ve proved it to myself over and over again.

a boy named chris…

Chris was a lanky, odd looking kid…and I was a scrawny tom boy…

We went to public school together. 

Through the years, a lot of the memories are forgotten…yet some stay no matter how hard you try to shake them.

It would appear to anyone who paid the slightest attention, that Chris and I despised eachother.

We called eachother names, he pulled at my hair, if any of my body parts touched any of his personal belongings I would squeal in disgust and announce that Chris had just given me fleas.

At recess we would stay far away from eachother…as if an invisible line was drawn in the sand.  Neither of us would pass the line, but instead threw insults back and forth…we both tried so hard to get the last word…and tried desperately to get eachother’s attention.

One day Chris put me in a head lock.  My older brother saw this and ran over to “save”me.  My brother let me get a good kick in to his poor shin and I spent the rest of the afternoon in the principles office.

We always managed to take the same route home after school.  Of course we walked on opposite sides of the street…I wondered why he would always take the long way home.

I’d yell “Chris is the piss” and he would come up with something witty in retaliation…well as witty as a 10 yr old can get.

I HATED Chris…and he’d say he hated me too…but now that I look back…24 years later, well it must have been love if I hated him so much.

And maybe that’s why from time to time I think of him.  I wonder what kind of man he would have been…how many children he would have…would he make a wonderful father.  I haven’t seen him since I was 10…since he was 10.

Two kids walking home from school, yelling insults and claiming to hate one another.

The last thing I ever said was “I hope you die”. 

They were just words…they held no meaning…I didn’t mean them.

He died that night.  A brain aneurysm is what we were told…what that meant…we had no idea. 

For years in my child’s mind, I believed that I was the cause of his death.  I never told a soul about my “wish”.  I thought I would go to jail.  I never told anyone until I reached my 30’s.  I also have never wished another person dead…you know, the power of words and all…

I still think of him…and sometimes I get this ache in my chest…and once in a while I am 10 all over again…wishing I could swallow those words so deep inside of me…will him back to life.  Sometimes my 10 year old self still thinks it’s my fault….but only sometimes.

And sometimes I miss him…although 24 years have passed.  And sometimes he just dwells in my thoughts.  Tonight is just one of those times.

 

 

 

a little perspective…

It was my partners’ birthday on Monday.  I have been planning her gift since Christmas…it’s always fun surprising her!

Last year I threw her a big surprise party…this year I decided I would take Monday off work and take her away for a couple of days.

I bought her a 14k white gold band…the identical ring she got me for a Christmas gift.  She had been saying that she wanted matching bands…and I LOVED the idea!!

I love love love my ring.  Did I mention I love my ring?  Lol

Well, on Friday as we were driving to the mall…I glanced at my ring finger…and my ring was gone.  Gone.

This is a ring that I never take off.  Only when I go to bed at night…or when I put cream on my hands at work.  I have been so very careful with it…and now it’s gone.

My panic got the best of me and I drove to my work at midnight and tore my desk apart.  Nothing.  I came home and tore my place up even more…again, nothing.

I felt so defeated, I could only do what any other girl would do.  I cried…and I cried some more. 

Now her birthday gift would not be as special as I was planning…as I was anticipating.  Life as I knew it sucked.

 

We ended up going away and having a beautiful time.  We had a waterfront room, the weather was perfect.  We laughed and reconnected…it was amazing. 

I placed her ring in a big jar filled with candy…so as she was digging in for treats, she found the ring…she was surprised!!  It was bitter sweet…she feels bad wearing the ring when I don’t have mine.  

 

As we were driving back home, I was feeling sad that our weekend was over.  I was feeling craptastic about losing my most prized possession…I wanted to cry all over again.

I turned on the radio…and heard 22000 people lost their lives in a cyclone.

Precious lives lost…in a blink of an eye.  

And here I was crying over a ring.

Sure puts things into perspective.

I reached over and held her hand the rest of the way home.  She’s still here…that’s more important than any piece of jewelry.