5 years

Ok so today is the 5 year mark of my dad's death. Sometimes it doesn't seem that long ago while other times it seems like it has been forever and a day ago. I miss him but I also know that he is in a better place and has no more pain. for that i am grateful! It has been a journey has been up and down. When he passed I couldn't have imagined what it would be like without him. There are times it feels like he is still here and other times I can feel the void of his absence.

He had his flaws. He was not perfect but regardless of everything he was still my dad! I think of him often and ironically there are times I hear his phrases come out of my mouth. I miss his laugh and when I would come home from where I was living in California we had a standing appointment every evening to watch Who Wants To Be A Millionaire back when it was an hour long and Regis hosted it. He would get flustered when I would answer the questions before the 4 multiple choice answers would come up on the TV. He would say "would you wait and give me a chance to see the options." I just told him you either know it or not. As the contestants got to the higher monetary amounts usually if the got to the 250 thousand mark we would make wagers on what the right answer was. The one I remember the most was from a celebrity episode and Rosie O'donnell was going for the million. I'll never forget the question. The russian writer Anton Checov (sp) was best known for writing about A: childrens lit B: law C: world history or D: medicine. Before the choices came up I said medicine. My dad said no way. So when the choices came up and medicine was one of them he still doubted I knew it and thought it was a wild guess. So he raised the bet to 20 bucks. His answer was c world history or law but could choose between the 2. Needless to say Rosie walk away with 500 thousand for her charity because she has no idea. Well all I will say I got my 20 bucks with the question of how I knew that. I don't know I must have heard it at some point in my life. I just knew it.

He always told me and others that I was sponge. I soak up everything and retain it. I rarely forget things. Not to say I never do but not all that often.

So for my dad the answer is still D: medicine I sure do miss those moments with him. Carpe diem (sp) dad I know I am trying to do so.

Please forgive the spelling and gramatical errors I am writing the via my cell phone while I'm at a doc appointment.

Time Traveling

First let me begin by saying yes I know it is late or early for some 3:33 AM. I am having a bad night physically. I am sure by now most of those that read this know I had my 20 year class reunion in August. What most did not know at that time was about a week before I heard the words that altered my life and shook me to the core as nothing ever before or since. The doctor came in the room and gently and softly said she was sorry but the mammogram, ultrasound, and MRI all showed that I had one rather large tumor and another that was not as big. They did the biopsy and again the doctor came in the room and said I have an aggressive stage 2 breast cancer. OK now I had to figure out how to process this. I couldn't. I didn't tell anyone, literally no one. Hell, no one even knew I had a mammo. Slowly I began to tell a very small circle of people I felt I could really trust. I was referred to a cancer care center and I have since had surgery and it was discovered that there was actually a third. The problem was it was growing between the collarbone and the breastbone. Like being wedged in. Now my doctor who is wonderful began to consult with other docs to figure out how to remove it without breaking or fracturing the bone because of the high concentration of cancer cells the chance of them getting into the bone according to the docs would only have given me maybe a 30% survival rate. The next surgery they did it with 3 surgeons in the room. I was terrified going into the OR but felt confident. I have since had many more imaging tests and they showed that there was part of that tumor they did not get. So it is still there. I have been going through radiation therapy and it is exhausting. It scares me and puts things in a perspective that I have never had before.
Now to the time traveling. Tonight first, I am in physical pain, and to be honest emotionally I am not in a good place. I have lived a colorful life to say the least. I fear that if this tumor is unable to be taken care of I don't what my life expectancy is. I have learned over the years of my colorful life to smile and just act as if nothing is wrong. I am very good at that, mastered it. Tonight I am having a bad night. There are so many things I want to do and kids I want to help and future teachers to help them understand kids as I was. Therefore, it has thrust me into a place that I am unfamiliar with. So I have begun to share my life story with future teachers. I did so on Tuesday to a group of college students specifically going to be special education teachers, which I was a sped kid too hyper and smart for my own good. I don't know if it the docs can get this into remission or not I don't know how much time I have on this earth no one does and I have decided that it is time to share my story with those it can help. I have the help of a former teacher which is a HUGE blessing. I couldn't do it alone. It is still difficult. I tire very quickly. It's like taking someone who lives their live at a 100 miles an hour and taking them to 50 mph instantly. That has been the hardest adjustment. There are times I am still in denial that this is even happening to me. I feel like I brought it upon myself because of things I have been through in my life. It doesn't matter if it was willing or not I still feel it is my fault and I brought all this on myself.
Due to speaking to these college students has sent me on a journey that is difficult but I want my message to get out to many people as possible so when they become teachers or whatever they will have a greater understanding of those kids that have live a life similar to mine. I want other kids to not have to experience things I did in school or home. The problem with that is it brings it all back to that moment. The time it happened, my mind goes back to that age and I feel it as if it is happening all over again. Now with the cancer my perspective on life. I need to share my life so others can learn learn from it. I will do anything I need to do regardless of how difficult it is. I can handle the physical pain; the emotional pain is more challenging. Sharing my life story is even more difficult.
My perspective on life has changed and I don't know what it holds for me. Will I live or die from the cancer. I am terrified to share it but I will do it through the terror. It is not easy thank God; I have a friend that helps me through the hard parts. She is a blessing in my life and was in sixth grade. She just didn't know it then. I hope she knows it now.
This person does not get everything I have been taught to believe but that is OK. Sharing my life with a group of strangers let me tell you it challenging, but this person challenges me in ways no one has done before.
I don't know that my future holds, but I am going to do as much as I can and make s much of a difference as I can. I know that I need to share my life with people and as hard as it is, I will do it. I will do whatever it takes to make a difference for all the kids like I was. You can look back at other blogs I have written to see what some of those are.
Maybe it is the medicine my defences are down I am taking, but I feel compeled to share just a few instinses. (I edited somethings out here in case my young neice or nephews see this) I have had some awful experiences with former teachers. However, I have survived it all. Not without repercussions, but what can you expect when I basically raised myself. I have compassion for people more don't. My life isn't that bad there are bright spots, my parents aren't bad parents, nor were all my teachers were horrible only 2 in particular.
This whole cancer thing and speaking to future teachers has caused me to think differently. Life is precious and I try to make a memory of everything that I do.
Tonight is a tough night for me. I am feeling very discouraged tonight, not to mention the physical pain tonight. I put a smile on my face and just continue on as if everything is just fine with me. Even when it's not. Which is now. I am afraid to tell people the latest result of all the imagine tests.
My life is what it is. I can't change it, but I can help others with it. I am fighting to beat this but there are times I feel I just can't do it. Thank God for good friends, a great doctor, and the prayers that are going forth for me. I have never run from a fight or backed down from a challenge. I am tired of the pain and and being tired. I am still feisty and there are days I feel I can beat this and other days that that I want to through up my hands in defeat and just let the cancer take its course.
If my life story will help one future teacher or save one kid, it's worth it. I had never shared it with anyone until speaking to the university students until that evening. I walked away from the college students was a milestone for me. Being told you have aggressive breast cancer everything. I will say that it puts thing about life in a completely new perspective.
When I was talking to the college student it really, it was difficult. They seemed respectful of my life. I pushed myself harder to get the job done.
So I do have pain and but to save 1 kid or help 1 sped teacher it's all worth it. So the physical pains groans on, I have a smile on my face, this time traveling through my life as hard but continue I must.

Voice of the Throw Away's

Life can certainly be full of interesting turns of events at times.

When I was a kid I didn't dream of a future for myself. It seemed like a waste of time. I never thought I would have one and if I did it would not amount to anything anyway, so I just did not dream. Partly because when I did someone was always right behind me shattering them. It was better to not wish or dream so when things did not come true I would not know what I was missing. I was what is known as a 'throw away kid.' The ones that no one had any hope for or wanted, the ones that people never even really saw as human. We were simply useless vessels using up some of their precious O2.
We are the ones whose job it is to absorb all of the evil and bitterness in people so the 'good' people don't get jaded by the malevolence of human nature. It's like we get singled out before we are even born to be the ones to sacrifices at any and all costs. So we do, do we know better? Maybe. When we are young no we don't, we just continue to take it knowing nothing different. We pray to be seen by someone, ANYONE, but we always just get looked over or straight through. We do what we need to do to just survive anyway we can. In our own silent hell we can't figure out what we did wrong or what we need to do to be loved, accepted, or just be noticed for something other than what everyone sees on the outside. It never happens. We continue to just flicker in and out of sight. We hide in the shadows but scream in the dark.
They don't bother trying to educate us because God forbid we learn there might be something better out there. Oh no, of course not. They don't want us to take those positions that are deemed to have worth because that would be taking something away from all the 'good' people in the world. Why would anyone want a throw away kid right? No they want us to continue to soak it up and be the whipping posts, the violence takers and whatever else. After all we are good at it. We can take it; it does not hurt us anymore. If it happened to one of the 'good ones' it would shatter their world to a million pieces and who knows if they would come back from it. Us, we always do, maybe a little more numb, or separated from ourselves then before, but we come back.
I had a conversation the other day from someone from my past. She came into my life at that critical time where my hope was waning fast. She is someone that does not understand the throw away kid aspect of life. She has never experienced it. She is an idealist that wants to save all kids. She wants to be the intercessor in the lives of kids like I was. In our many conversations she has asked me what it was I needed or wanted at that time. She asked me again the other day.
I had the answer in my head but could not get it out of my mouth without bursting into tears. I wanted to be saved. To be rescued from my own private hell. I wanted someone to reach out their hand to me and tell me it would all be OK. I wanted and needed to feel worth that next breath of air or the space my little bruised body took up on this earth. All those people who said they wanted to take me home with them and make things right, I never showed it but I wanted them to do it. To help me salvage anything that was laudable. I wanted to be Peter Pan; I wanted to be taken to Never Never Land. Where all is good and nothing bad happened to us and our worst fear would be of Captain Hook and Smeety. Where we could fly by just thinking happy thoughts. Where every kid there are ones no one wants and that is what makes them all equal. Or be the kid Mary Poppins came to help. Where we could jump into a chalk picture on the sidewalk and run in a horse race with horses off a merry go round. Or go to a friend's house and laugh so hard you floated up to the ceiling and had to think of something sad to come back down, dancing and singing on roofs with chimney sweeps, or where going to fly a kite solved all that ailed a young soul. Those are the kind of wishes you only get once in a life time. I either used mine too soon or too late. I should have saved it for a couple of years later. It was then my light was snuffed out, almost permanently. I was really a loss cause after that.
Interestingly enough this person from my past she reading something's to me that was not pleasant to hear. Frankly I still think I only heard half of it. I know I did not get the emotional impact I was suppose to get from it I did try though, I was afraid to feel the words she was reading like I know I should have, that I know I need to so I can put it on the table and walk away from it and be able to share my story with anyone it will help. I did not even remember some of what she read. Oh I remembered the events but not the emotions. I took some Benadryl before hand to try and keep myself calm so I would not shake or what have you, (it worked she commented that I seemed so calm) I would not take my sunglasses off, and was more worried about her then I was myself, I was afraid of her reaction to it all. The worse part of it is that think I may actually need to hear it one more time for the full impact to resonate with me to hear the emotions that child wrote about the one that seems so far away from now. I guess it would have to be without shades or hair in the way. However, sometimes things are beyond being able to ask for twice. Even if you do the guilt of asking never goes away. You always feel guilty for asking anything like it's a burden. So you just don't ask again. For many there are dates or times of the year that are more difficult than others. Where the events of life leave you feeling raw and exposed and most vulnerable. It could be a month, or a day on a month that has substantial memories attached to them, anniversaries of sorts. Maybe this year it could be my release day? Ah who am kidding, don't ever be an inconvenience to someone by asking for something more than once. That is the limit. So I blew that one too. So I won't be asking for that help again. Over and done with right? If you miss the opportunity the first time don't expect or ask for it to come around again. At least that is what I was taught.
See that is the mentality that never goes away no matter how old we 'throw away kids' get. We feel guilt if we involve anyone in our worlds. In the murk and mire or even joys and successes of it, even if it is to maybe help provide knowledge to those that might be able to change things for other 'throw aways.' That guilt never goes away. We always feel like we are a perpetual burden on everyone around us. We do our best to smile and just say everything is fine. Let me define what FINE means in the mind of throw away's. FINE = we are handling it. Don't get too close or I'll break, if I smile and say it enough maybe they will even believe that there is nothing wrong with us. It means we are screaming so loud inside and are shocked no one on the outside can't hear it. It's a way of saying things are a mess but we can't tell you or we will get in trouble, it means look deeper please don't give up. It means hug us, tell us we will be fine, don't let our defenses stop you if we crumble just don't tell anyone or think worse of us for it. However, we also know that is exactly what happens. They hear fine and assume it is true. So they walk away satisfied feeling like they had performed their duty of charity at least asking a question to the throw away. They are grateful as they walk away that part of their day is over, now they can focus on those kids who are not a waste of oxygen.
Eventually we throw aways grow up and become adults. Sometimes we turn out OK other times we don't. Even if we do we never lose that mentality of the world taking everything they can from us and giving nothing in return. My motto has always been if I lived off of other peoples love I would have been dead by 5 years old. You do what you need to do for yourself. That has its own issue because then people think you are selfish, when the opposite is true. I don't know what it would take to overcome that mentality but I know have tried and will continue to do so. I don't give up easy. It just gets tiring when around every corner is a reminder of just how worthless we really are. That 'throw away' status is a hard one to shake.
I remember reading a scientific study once that said that infants and children can actually die from lack of human touch and affection, that their brain actually stops growing. I think I was in middle school at the time. I remember thinking that can't be true because I was alive. My brain had not shrunk. Then I realized it did not only say affection. It just said human touch and stimulation. Well, being that it did not define the kind of touch, I figured my brain must be huge. I got touched all the time. Violence is touch, slapping, hitting that is all touching. I could not figure out why my brain was not getting so big it would blow apart my skull. Irrational thoughts from a kid.
When we get thrown back into roles we held as a child, where the responsibility is ours to shoulder. Where we are the caretakers of everyone else's emotions of physical well being, we step up to take it when no one else does. We do what we do not as martyrs but as the sacrifices we were ordained to be. The ironic thing is we love harder and deeper than most ever will. Even those that hurt us we don't give up hearing those words. When they need us for something that is where we find our worth. What most don't know is how lonely this actually is. People think it is so noble to take care of someone older. Noble? I am not sure about, it's lonely and isolating. We do it because we have to. Because we love the people we care for at all costs no matter what they have done or continue to do to us. Why we still love… Maybe because we have to. Like we feel that if we stop loving them that it will permanently close the door for the return to come our way. Like we have that power in our hands to make them love us. Even though we know it is a futile adventure.
Even if after you serve what is wanted for dinner and get it thrown in your face. Even if after your best friend betrays you on such a level that forgiveness can't get past the deep sting of infidelity of spilled secrets and the old record of pain that continuously plays in our head. That friend that has always been our sanctuary in times of tribulation, that place where tears are OK, feelings are understood and comfort is given. Where a hug or being held by that friend as you weep is not seen as threatening to the one shedding the tears. The one that tells you it will be ok soon enough. The one that you don't feel like a needy, clingy freak around when you need to talk. When that confidence in the friendship is broken it should not come as a surprise but it always does. All you can do is ask yourself what you did wrong for that to happen. You want to apologize to the person even if you did nothing wrong just to get back what you had; but you don't because you can't bow to it again.
That is when you look around to try and take a new inventory and realize that once again you are totally on your own. Even at this point in life it is second nature. However, you try not to allow yourself to fall into those old thought patterns of not shutting everyone out, and our trying to make new friends and let them into what pains our heart, but when you go up to the roof and get a glimpse at the big picture what you see is a dry and barren land where there is no oasis in sight, no trees to offer shade from the storms, or arms to hold you to tell you that things will be OK again.
So you polish the tears from your blurry eyes, clean up the tomato sauce mess, go back and make something else and hope that this one won't illicit the same response as before. You try not to feel all those things that the words and phrases of 'how can you be so stupid' when will you ever learn' you have always been a screw up' when will you ever do anything right' bring up from old. You try not to hear them and if you do you try and steel yourself to not feel the burning hot knife that just cut you apart from stem to sternum and left you bleeding inside. You try not to let them get to you, but get to you they do. Yet, we continue to try to love, give and lay ourselves out for anyone and everyone to persist in walking all over you but when asked your response it is always fine, that is what is safe.
You put your head down on the pillow and cry a little harder and relive the emotions and thoughts of the little child inside you that had to grow up so fast she never had a childhood to even speak of. The one with the wishes I could not express to my friend the other day when she asked me what I wanted or needed then. That I wanted to be saved. To be rescued from my own private hell. I wanted someone to reach out their hand to me and tell me it would all be OK. I wanted and needed to feel worth that next breath of air or the space my little bruised body took up on this earth.
Yet, now as an adult you realize just how stupid it is to even think that much less want or need it.
And still…. We continue to love even the ones who hurt us in hopes of someone making the trip to Never Never Land or popping through that chalk picture on the sidewalk and rescuing us from the throw aways. You learn that hope does not spring eternal, and friendships are conditional and superficial and never meant to be two ways streets.
So we stop crying because it does nothing to help.
This is the voice of throw away kids. Monotone, numb, scared, fearless, lonely, and searching for that person to start the rescue mission they can only convey through their eyes.

Oh well, more rabbit tale wonderings.

Haunts, Taunts and Blessed Teachers Part 2

Sophomore 86 - 87 / Junior year 87 -88

If you thought 6^th grade was bad….

After I began communication with my 6^th grade teacher she happened to mention my name to a colleague. They realized I had been a student of both of them. Not the best thing to have in common. Mrs. K from 6^th grade told Mrs. S that she was going to have lunch with me and she said she might join us. All I was thinking when she said that was "Oh great 2 former teachers, both of whom I was incredibly mean to, at one time in one place. Crap! OK breathe deep. Don't panic, I'll survive." Let me just say when I met Mrs. K today I was constantly looking around to see who was coming. Nervous, Oh ya. Needless to say Mrs. S could not make it. Although, I will say it actually would have been OK. Mrs. K and I talked a bit about Mrs. S and I think I would have survived had she shown up.

I do have a thing with people approaching from the back. That is why if I go into a restaurant or something I like to sit where I can't be approached from blind spots and I can see the door, and if I can get a table where I can actually put my back against the wall and see all angles. I know why but it's not important for you to. It did play into my jitters a bit though because we were sitting outside and people would approach the door from the blind.

But I digress…

I'll give just one example of what I put this teacher through.

I moved back to the school district and back in with my parent's second semester sophomore year. I had just turned 15. I left after 8^th grade and was gone 1 ½ years. During that time I went to several different schools. None of which boosted my confidence that there were any kind of qualified teachers left in the world. When I came back I was still in the "special Education" program. It is here that I met Mrs. S. Ya that was her lucky day right? NOT! 6^th grade had nothing on me now. I was really jaded, angry, walled off, untouchable, and virtually a true lost cause by then. What was the school to do? By law I had to attend they had to take me, poor them. I had been well schooled in the art of pushing people away, saying blah blah blah in my head whenever anyone was talking to me, raising all hell, not to mention sarcasm. Can you see how lucky Mrs. S was to be my primary coordinator and teacher? Again NOT! Did I mention sarcasm?

I don't know what she thought when we were all in that little room the day I was enrolling. She had my file, heard all the dirt and I swear was trying to tell me via her body language "it's OK you can trust me, but I am ready for you." at least that my interpretation at the time. I am sure now it was way off. I remember thinking "ya, you ready? Hang on tightly cause I do nothing lightly. Ah the challenge". That really is what I was thinking. Little did I know how true of a thought that would prove to be in a matter of months.

I had been hardened by a juvenile care system that was and still is a massively dilapidated, understaffed system that was crumbling under its own weight. I was one of thousands that fell through those proverbial cracks that social services does not acknowledge even exists. My behavior showed that. I knew where the invisible line was between the gray and the black. Heck I lived my life dancing on it. I got in trouble sure but never enough to get me into any legal trouble. Too smart for my own good? Maybe…

OK here I am going to get a bit more personal…

I was living with my parents again and things were worse than ever. I was growing more and more depressed. The anger was subsiding. I guess I should have known that something was really wrong. I spent a great deal of my life angry about one thing or the other. So this was a drastic change. My behavior was really spiraling down quickly. I was in the office damn near everyday for something. Mrs. S used to tell me she could hear me in the East office all the way from central hall as she was on her way to get her mail. If you know the layout of West Bend High School you know that central hall and East office is a LOOOOOOOOOOOONG ways.

I had only been in the back in town a few months. Long before that I already had no hope for myself or my life. By that time it had been trampled out of me by people that "just didn't know how to handle me and I was just a bad apple." Others told me "I might as well drop out of school because I would end up in jail for the rest of my life anyway. " By people that were to be there to help me. What wonderful people. Again sarcasm, gotta love it.

Over time I came to realize that I just didn't want to be alive anymore. Why would I if I was worthless, bad apple, even people that were "hired" to care were ruthless. Now, here I am not going to say what I did but I was told by a doctor that in all his years of practice he had never seen anyone do that or more determined to die. Literally doc told me he could not believe I was still alive. Needless to say I didn't die (obviously) but not for lack of trying. Somehow someone at school the next day found out. I still am not sure how, I thought maybe I turned my head the wrong way or something in class. I had not told anyone anything. It would have screwed up my after school plans.

I got called into the office and before I knew it both my parents were in there, Mrs. S and the vice principal were there. Again, can I just say Crap! I was busted big time. I just thought it is not to be this way. I'm not supposed to be here right now. All these people were trying to tell me how much they care. All I was thinking was "blah blah blah sure you care now but it's too late. I don't even want to save myself so I knew no one could help and see how much easier it would be if I just wasn't here?" They just weren't getting it. The office was getting very tense because I refused to sign myself into any place to get help. Didn't want anything to do with it. Then it was laid on the table. If I didn't sign, which by law I had to because I was over 13 years old, I would be put somewhere else involuntarily. I refused to speak. I wasn't angry I was thinking if I agree to do this I could jump out of the car on the freeway on the way there and this would all be done. Or if I do I can get these people off my back play the game of the program get out and I'll be done; vanished from this earth. So I agreed to go. A very loud audible sob of relief went out from Mrs. S and the vice principal. Nothing from my parents at the time. They were at the end of their rope with me as well and did not know what was going on except I was a problem again. At least I thought.

What I didn't know was both the school and my parents had been in contact with the doctor and he realized the seriousness of the situation. Apparently he told my dad to put me in the front seat, keep his hand on the seatbelt buckle so I could not take it off, (how did he know) and get there ASAP someone would be at the door waiting. It would take us about an hour to get there and I did try to get the belt off. I realized it wasn't going to happen my dad was too strong. So I switched my thought process to plan B. Play the program, get out and see ya. Obviously that didn't happen so the rest of that is not important.

I got out didn't go to live with my parents and went back to school with Mrs. S. Even I feel sorry for her now.

Years later I still think about it. That day in the office was a major turning point in my life. I just didn't know it at the time. The sound of the sobbing has never left me. I came to understand with age that Mrs. S did care. As I went through the program and my thinking changed (very slowly) I remember thinking that the vice P and Mrs. S were the only two people on the planet that cared if I lived or died. I had never felt anything that powerful before and from people who didn't really know me. That blew me away. She didn't see me as a lost cause, hopeless, or worthless. She saw me at my very worst and didn't walk away when it was over. Sure when I returned back to school I think she was a bit apprehensive or nervous about what I may do, and at times I felt like she handled me with kid gloves. Maybe afraid I would crack again. I knew I wasn't ever going to go back to that dark, dank place EVER again. I was stronger than I had ever felt in my life. My doctor saved my life literally at that time. I would be OK, still up to no good, cantankerous but now I was having fun again. I knew 100% happiness would not happen until I was out of the system and older but I was determined to get there regardless of the obstacles I had to get through to get there.

Mrs. S saw me as the kid I was, raw, uncensored and probably more real than I had ever been. When I think of the crying in the office it wrenches my heart. What I put her through and that was just one instance but it was the biggest one. I mentioned that to Mrs. K on the phone before we met today and it came up today at lunch. Mrs. K had told Mrs. S I mentioned something about it on the phone Mrs. S was surprised I even remembered that. Are you kidding me? Seriously? How could I forget? I hoped that she had but I guess I knew she couldn't have either. I have never forgotten that day or the rest of that school year or the year after. The lasting impact on my life that sound made I would no idea until I was out on my own. It was the sound of compassion, humanity and sincerity. She helped teach me how to be me again, to find the power inside me. That I could hope again and it was OK to dream about my future again. She made me feel safe if even only for that brief moment of a year and a half when she was my teacher. (This in a classroom had NEVER happened at any point before.) She NEVER gave up on me. In my world that was unheard of because just about every other teacher did.

When I left town to go to college and was a 4.0 student in some very demanding, fast paced classes it was her I wanted to send a copy of my transcript to. I just wanted to let her know I turned out OK. I'm here, more alive than ever, happy and successful educationally, professionally, and confident. I wanted to tell her I made it and you helped me get there. You believed in me, hoped for me but mostly you cared about me.

Oh here we go, Mar you are in trouble. Remember when you said when we were talking tonight that you would have been crying when I told about today? All I can say is thanks. Thanks a lot ya old hen. HA Now I am going. I don't cry but sometimes things are so deep and personal and hit so close to the heart that feeling finds its way out of my eyes.

I just appreciate this teacher so much I can't even tell you. I wish I would have known then what I know now. That is a regret I have. I am so sorry for what I put her through. She didn't deserve it. She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, but now I can finish that statement by saying – but with the right kid. I have never forgotten that day or her. She participated in changing my life and my perspective of teachers and humanity.

I was afraid to see her again today but not because she was scary or ever hurt me but my own fear and insecurity. I knew I could not vocally express what I felt and that in some way I would disappoint her. Which is funny to me because I usually could care less what people think about me or if I disappoint them. Hell there have been many times that was what I strived for early on.

I guess I didn't realize until today just how much I wanted her to be proud of who I am today. The compassion I have for those unreachable kids. The part of me that has so much compassion for people that need help does bring me to tears at times. It is because I had her as an example I know it. My life turned out different and so much better because of her. I had a strong male role model in my doc that helped bring up out of the dark and shine the light enough and she was the female role model that just helped make it brighter and more vivid every day.

I want to say thank you Mrs. S. You chose to be an active participant in helping me save my life. I could never say thank you enough. I will never forget you. How could I? I am just sorry that you remember that say too. I know it was hell and I know the sobs I heard and the tears I saw that day were out of raw emotion that I would at least live another day. The only other person in my life I knew felt that from was my grandma and she died when I was 13. Then came along Mrs. S completely unaware of what she was in for but never turned to run away.

When I lived in So Cal I had read the autobiography by Brett Butler (actress and comedian not baseball player.) There was a sentence in it that only a VERY small group of people helped me make that statement be true for me too.

So Mrs. S as the tears run hot down my cheeks instead of down my throat unseen except by the wisest of spectators this my old friend is for you.

"For all the times I tried to runaway but stayed instead to find some truth." Brett Butler autobiography Knee Deep In Paradise.

You are a large part in helping me find that truth inside me at that time of my life. You a hero to me. Thank you. I can honestly say I now eagerly wait the day I see you face to face again. It would be my honor and privilege to make your acquaintance again. My only prayer is that after this blog I can A) be able to look you in the eyes and not fear I said or expressed too much that I made you uncomfortable and B) I won't bust my tradition and just start sobbing myself.

I'm sorry this is so long but I knew it would never come out this way if I tried to speak it. This format allows me to express things I'm not always able to with my voice or conscious mind.

Tissue anyone? Boy did this take a bad turn. I did not plan on all this.

They say everybody has at least 1 teacher, well for a blip of time in 6^th grade I had one and a tad longer blip in high school I had another. I had two. May teachers around the world remember that the simplest of gestures, the humanity conveyed in a smile, the sparkle in their eyes when they are proud of that student, the emotions in their voice and words of kindness will stay with their students far longer that whatever the material they are teaching ever will. Those things will carry their students above the clouds and give them the wings they need from time to time to sustain the altitude the rest of their students' lives.

And Still......

Ah man, I don't think I can take anymore of this, and why when I am only asleep, why not remember these things or see these things while I am awake?
Well I prayed and asked about that tonight when I woke up from a nap. I like to ask the questions that does not mean I always want the answer., and still I got one. When I am awake my defenses are too high and I am so vigilant in protecting my mom against my sadness, and loneliness, and gosh forbid me from letting anyone know I am vulnerable because then I would just melt away and die. It's not that things like that are not being remembered while I am awake, it is just I am not as open as I am when I dream. Not to mention His word did say he speaks to us through dreams and visions.
I long for the day that even the good ones don't make me a weeping puddle waiting for the mop, and the bad ones don't have the same sting. I am sure it is out there somewhere and I have faith that I will reach it in HIS time not my own, (I'm not too fond of that part) but it will come. I just don't want to be a walking or driving rolling puddle with a mop not far behind while I hang in the balance.
So since I am crying all over again after waking up and immediately feeling that lose of those first 2 minutes after he passed. It just seems so fresh and raw in those moments it is overwhelming.
Tonight's dream was more like a film and I was in the theater watching it. If I had to title it it would be called "Through the Years". I saw him painting the living room when we first moved here and he spilled the paint can and mom quietly ushered my sister and I away because lets just say he was not happy. I was 3 years old I don't know how that would even still be in the memory bank. I watched when I was 4 and after dinner he would aways sit at the dinette table and read the newspaper. Sometimes I would sit on his lap while he did so and he would read it to me. It was not very long before I was reading it to him without him reading it at the same time. I am sure that is where my love of reading came from. In 4th grade I tested out of high school with vocabulary, comprehension and everything.
I heard his laugh in my dream. That alone was the biggest blessing because it had been many years since I heard that really deep hard laugh. In part because I lived far away and also because he had been sick for a while. Even though it has only been 3 years he's been gone but I almost had forgotten it. I loved to hear him laugh that hard, and his eyes would sparkle and shine when he did. I miss that.
I saw him planting the maple tree that was no taller than I was around 6 years old. Now it towers well above me and the house like a live guardian angel.
I saw him up north at the cabin we used to have and fishing from the pontoon boat or the pier. He taught me that if I caught a bullhead (catfish as you may know it) to be careful taking it off the hook because it's whiskers would sting me. I would fish by myself at dusk off the dock and when I caught one I would scream at the top of my lungs so he would hear me in the cabin DDDDDDAAAAAAAADDDDDDD he would come out as fast as he could and I would simply say I got a bullhead come take it off, and so he would. I knew if I screamed loud enough he would come. Sometimes as I got older and lived away from home I could whisper his name and know he would be there. Can you hear my heart whispering for you now daddy?
There was of course a great deal more in my dreaming film to even go into. It just makes me feel that deep void that his death has left behind. I know that even though my heart hurts so deeply it is almost selfish. I know my dad is back home with his heavenly father and his own dad that died when we was very young. He is happy in that perfect place we all long to go back to. I know the sorrow is for me, my family and his friends.
I know I have said this but I love him and I can physically feel the hurt of my heart. I know that gap will get smaller and eventually I will smile and only cry with great laughter in time. I don't believe in someone feeling sorry for themselves or wallowing in things but I think that this is something I have to let take his course and try to allow myself the time I need for that. It's just so deep it makes wonder if I will ever see the light again with that part of my heart and soul. I am not depressed (a little crazy, at least I think so at times) it's just a sad hole inside that needs to be filled up again.However, I'll tell you that I have done a great deal of really challenging and terrifying stuff of things I was sure I would never come out the other side of, but this.... Oh man, this by far is the most challenging, terrifying, and exhausting to go through. I wish I could do it all once, Cry once and just move on.
Unfortunately I can't do it. Believe me I have tried, it doesn't work.
So again I say good night to my dad and and to anyone reading this though a flood of tears. I just pray that if this happens again at anytime that it won't feel so fresh and new. For now I just hang in the balance and believe as a friend and her son told me that he is looking down and watching over his family. I hope I am the person he wanted me to be, and love as hard and deep as he did, and is proud of me for something. Lord knows I am trying for him and our God.
I just feel like I am stuck in one of those hamster balls that you put them in close up and let them roll around in them.
Some day I'll see you again dad. In the mean time I hope and pray that when you look down you will see something pleasing to your bright eyes. I miss you!
Sorry to all who read this, but this is what has been in my head and my heart lately. Thanks for putting up with me.