My Halloween Weekend at Mt. Pleasant
Current mood: grateful
Category: Life

Friday afternoon I said goodbye to my husband and daughter and made my escape for a weekend of Halloween fun with my freind Holly. We drove 3 hours away to the college town of Mt. Pleasant where I met Holly's freinds from her time she had spent there herself two years before. At first I felt slightly akward when I discovered that most of the people I would be hanging out with during my two day stay were mostly 6 to 5 years younger than me. But, in the end I didn't notice any obvious age gaps apparent in myself or them. I fit in well with these people where I could mention 'Inuyasha' and wouldn't get the 'huh?' look. Two of the guys I met even dressed as anime characters, so when I discovered this I knew I would fit right in. I myself dressed as a sexy version of Hermione. Although when I first arrived in Mt. Pleasent I took the costume out to show Holly, but discovered that I had left the tie and cloak at home. I was upset, not only because I had spent a lot on the costume, but because I was afraid that I wouldn't be recognized as Hermione. I'm still not sure if most people got who I was, but two people did make 'Harry Potter' refrences to me during my time dressed in character.

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Living off Nostalgia

Last night I rented 'The Little Mermaid' for my daughter. We both made ourselves comfortable, Audrey in her Dora the Explorer chair and I on the couch as I pressed play on the DVD player. As the movie opened with the familar 'Fathoms Below' tune I realized that I could recite the whole movie word for word even though I haven't seen it in ages. Audrey seemed to be enjoying herself and I was pleased, because since her second birthday I have been trying to intrest her in DVD entertainment other than 'Baby Einstien' or 'Dora'.  Yet, somewhere around 'Part of your World' my daughter became restless and left the room. So much for me finding a movie that we both could enjoy together. I was about to discontinue Ariel's longing for her prince, but then decided that I would finish the film regardless of Audrey's abscence. I did exactlly so and finished the film until its very end. There was something oddly reassuring about seeing a movie from my childhood. I can still remember when my Mother took my sister's and I to the theater for our very first viewing of 'The Little Mermaid'. Watching the movie brought back so many memories from that time. It is hard for me to believe that that event took place 17 years ago. Sometimes I feel like I am still that 9 year old girl who believes in mermaids and love at first sight. How naive I was about the world back then. Why can't it be so simple? Why can't a girl find her prince and live happily ever after? Why can't our lives be a fairytale?

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Stephanie's Death: Part Six
Category: Life

After the burial there was a reception at the School/Church that Steph, Jeannette, Theresa and I had attended growing up. I remember walking up to the building and there being a photo of my sister taped to the doors leading in. Underneath the picture of my smiling sister were words that said the reception was in the smaller of the two gyms the school had. Much of what happened at the reception is lost on me. I can remember feeling like I had to be the hostess again, because now I was in a much smaller setting and it was easier for people to locate and talk to me. I do recall heading out to the parking lot with Sam to sneak a ciggarette behind my parent's big blue van. The odd thing was that my father came and joined us. When I first saw him I was a bit nervous, but when he asked if he could bum a smoke all my fears subsided. That was the first and only time I have shared a ciggarette with my father. He had quit smoking years before, but after my sister's death had picked up the habit again. That was something I could see as totally understandable. Even though I stopped smoking heavily 3 years ago and quit all together 1 year ago, if a situation is stressful I might break down and have a ciggarette. It's terrible that something so damaging physically can be so healing mentally.

Near the end of the reception the tears returned. I had not cried since first seeing my sister's lifeless body in her casket. I had not felt the need to. Yet, for some reason all the emotions from the day hit me hard at that moment. Maybe it was the fact that the reception was winding down and soon the day would be over. Everything had been building up to the funeral since I had first heard the words "Stephanie's dead." Now it was soon going to be over and my sister was still dead. I simply lost it and bawled into my husband's suit coat as he held me. Nothing had changed. The fact still remained that I would never see my sister again. She was gone and the funeral had done nothing to solve the issue of my mental anguish.

The rest of my time in Alaska was filled with events that I am unable to remember having a specific timeline. I remember doing them, but I couldn't tell you what day they had occured. Some might have even been before the funeral, but I wouldn't be able to know if it was or wasn't. There had been a visit to the hospital to see my Aunt Dawn who was comming in and out of conciousness. I remember seeing a Ford Explorer as we walked into the hospital that day. That had been the vehicle my sister had been in with my mom and aunt and uncle when they slid on black ice and rolled down into a ravine. Since then every single time I see a Ford Explorer I think of my sister and the accident. That was also the day I saw my Uncle Larry for the first time since the accident. Growing up I can remember my uncle almost always being a happy go lucky person, but ever since the accident I can always sense a distance and sadness from him. He has changed and it hurts. I miss his happy abandon, but I can't begin to understand how he must feel being the one who was driving the day of the car crash. I'm sure he blames himself and even if it is unwarranted, I'm sure he is just unable to shake his guilt. I have this incredible urge to just go hug him and tell him that I love him and don't blame him everytime I see him, but I'm sure this would only create more uneasiness than actually help. The day I was at the hospital, Larry sat in the waiting room with a sad look on his face and didn't really say much of anything. I sat on the other side of the room with the rest of my extened family in between us. Eventualy I was allowed to go in and see my aunt and my uncle went with me. Upon seeing her I just wanted to cry. My Aunt Dawn looked so helpless lying on her bed hooked up to machines and drugged out of her mind. I searched for words, but all I could think of was to tell her that her hair looked cute. Someone had come and braided my aunt's hair Laura Ingals style. She slowly replied in a drugged slur, "Oh yeah looks good, huh?"

Seeing my Aunt just made me think of Stephanie and when I finally left her hospital room I was glad to go. I couldn't deal with anymore sadness.

On another day my family and I visited the apartment Stephanie and her husband JD had shared. Of course, JD now lived there alone. The time I spent at the apartment was almost unbareable. Reminders of Steph were everywhere. The first thing that caught my eye was the sonogram picture of their now deceased baby displayed on the refridgerator. Underneath the picture I noticed the card I had sent my sister for her birthday. Seeing that she had placed the card out for everyone to see made me a little happy dispite my horrible sadness. Even though we hadn't corresponded that much after I left Alaska at least she still thought enough of my gift to place it on her fridge. Such a small thing, but now, because of her death it meant the world to me. I walked over her shoes that were splayed on the ground like she had just come home and plopped them where they lie. Then there was the most disheartening thing of all, the empty baby cradle in the nursery that sat there empty and would probably remain so for a long time. Seeing it almost took my breath away. How so much can change for a person in just an instant. A couple days before JD had been a husband and expectant father, now he was neither. I'm not sure how it must have been for him. My pain could never even compare to his. So many times I have been depressed about some trivial thing, but I have never had to go though what my brother in law has. His pain just makes every other issue of mine dull in comparison. I'm sure a lot of people had JD in there thoughts during that time.

As we drove away from my sister's former residence that day Jeannette started to cry. She was sitting besides me, so I instictivley put my arm around her in a comforting gesture. My baby sis instanly pulled away and lashed out, "Don't touch me."

I tried not to take her actions personally, because I knew she did this out of hurt and not anger. Yet, I started crying despite myself. I cried out of my own pain that I had been regected. I cried for myself and for Stephanie. I cried for JD. I cried for my Mom. I cried for the whole damn world.

Currently listening : Pinkerton By Weezer Release date: 24 September, 1996

3:55 PM - 5 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

New Job: Stay at home Mom
Current mood: confused
Category: Jobs, Work, Careers

Tonight I learned that I will have to quit the job I have held for the last 4 and a half years, because I no longer have someone to watch my daughter while I work. Since Audrey has been born I have only worked 3 days a week, but still it will be hard for me to give up something I have spent so much energy on and now focus that energy on being a stay at home mom. This scares me a bit, because I sometimes get cabin fever from just being home those 4 out of 7 days.

7:13 PM - 3 Comments - 1 Kudos - Add Comment

Stephanie's Death: Part Five
Category: Life

The thing about Stephanie's funeral was not only did I have to deal with her death, but I also had to deal with seeing people again that I hadn't seen in years. Her funeral was almost like a homecoming for me in a way. Stephanie and I had attended the same private christian school, so most of the people I had gone to school with she had also gone to school with.

After graduation I had distanced myself from highschool. I kept in contact was maybe one or two people from my class, but that was it. Growing up I had never really been part of any group or held strong friendships for very long. Every year of highschool I had a different group of people I attached myself to, but even then mostly I stayed off to the side. So, to see these people all together again at my sisters funeral was almost surreal and a bit frustrating. In my heart I wanted to be left alone, but I have this weird quality that forces me to put myself out there and for whatever reason be a good hostess. No one made me talk to these people. In fact, I probably could have smiled and kept on walking and most people would have understood why and not considered me rude. Yet, that hostess in me had to make sure everyone was happy. I rather hate that hostess.

Some people I didn't mind so much talking to, but others, especially those who had been unfreindly to me growing up, were bothersome. There were happy reunions and forced civility. I have no recolection of what I talked to these people about. One person actualy grabbed my finger and looked at my wedding ring like we were happy college students glowing about my recent engagement, even though I had been married for 2 years. I'm sure this person and any of the others I talked to were searching for words just as I had with my father on my first day home. What do you say to a person who has just lost a loved one? There was one person who knew exactly what to say and in fact, wouldn't stop talking. Eventualy even the hostess in me broke down and I had to exscuse myself.

By the start of the actual service I was so exhausted from greeting people that I was happy to sit down in a pew, even if it was to hear about my now deceased sister. I made a seat for myself between my husband and younger sister, Jeannette. I can recall at how annoyed I was that my 3 year old cousin, who sat directly behind me, made noises and talked through out the whole service. But, now that I am a mother of a rambunctious two year old myself I can only empathize with my aunt, who was probably mortified that her child was being so rude.

The actual words of the eulogy are lost on me now. I didn't cry though and I remember being surprised by that. Perhaps my tears had been so numerous earlier that I was unable to produce any more at that time. There were two speakers. One was the pastor of the church I had attended with my family growing up and the other was the pastor of the church my sister had started going to after her marriage. If you ask me, I think someone who knew Stephanie better should have spoken. I remember thinking while I listened that neither of these men really knew my sister and their words were probably word for word copies of a euology from the book "Funerals for Dummies". One pastor even claimed that Stephanie and her husband had been grade school sweethearts, something that was entirely untrue. My sister and her husband had started dating at the end of her Sophmore year in highschool. In the end I'm sure that none of this nit picking really matters. I can gaurantee that most if not all of those in attendence that day remember what was said.

Then the service was over. Music was played and I can remember my Mother going up to Stephanie's casket and placing her childhood blanket inside. My sister had been very funny about her blanket. It was a blue and white with large numbers printed across the cotton material. She had kept her security blanket close even into her adulthood when the ends had become frayed and the colors had faded. Now it would reside with her body forever as the pink coffin was now being closed. I remember thinking that it would be the last time I saw her and I strained to take one last look.

The box was then lifted by the ushers, two of whom where my cousins, Phillip and Jasen and the congregation followed as they lead outside. Once there I loaded into a van with my relatives and we drove to the cemetary for the burial. I don't recall much talking as we drove. The day was dreary and is was lightly raining. I stared at the rain drops as they hit the window I sat next to and watched them slowly make their way down. The weight of the day was so heavy it was only fitting that their would be rain.

At the burial site, Sam and I found a spot under a tree to keep dry from the rain and we listened as a few more words were said about my sister. Whenever I have visited my sisters grave since I always look at that tree and remember how I stood under it. In a way is gives me solace to see the thing still there everytime I visit. I would be sad if ever it was chopped down. When the speaker was done talking he offered to let Stephanie's immediate family to come and scoop dirt from a bucket and throw it onto her coffin which had already been lowered into its hole. I walked up there and did just so and said my last goodbye to my sister. The brown dirt splattered against the pink casket and I walked away with that sick feeling in my stomach ever present. Goodbye Steph ... I said to myself.

12:02 AM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

Stephanie's Death: Part Four
Category: Life

The next day I remember waking up and noticing the flowers for the first time. The upstairs living room was engulfed by daisies, lilys, roses and any other assortment of flowers you can think of. I guess I had failed to notice them the day before or maybe I had, but they had not seemed so numerous, because the house was filled with my relatives. Now that they had all returned to their hotels and the rooms of the house were vacant the flowers seemed to be everywhere. I suppose most people don't know what to do when they hear of someone dying. The normal reaction would be to give flowers. What really can you do? Giving them a shoulder to cry on is just as well, but flowers are something physical that you can hand to the person dealing with the death of a loved one. I can remember recieving three vases full of flowers of my own before I had left for Alaska. Yet, the gift I remember the most was a felt card made by my freind, Heather Maguire. On the outstide she had cut out letters to spell the word Hug and on the inside she had cut out a heart. That was it. Her gesture was so simple, but meant so much to me, becaue if you knew Heather, that was her. I can remember that by the end of my 5 day stay in Alaska most of the flowers were starting to die. That must be hard to deal with as well. Having to throw away all those flowers must make the house feel so empty.

4:34 PM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

Stephanie's Death: Part three
Current mood: sad

Upon arriving home in Alaska I had a mixture of two feelings. Of course I was sad, but in a way I was also excited. I hadn't been home in over 2 and a half years and so to see the familiar landscape of the snow covered moutains, as our plane flew over them, was comforting. Growing up I had been so anxious to leave the confines of the way up north. Now I didn't want to leave.

My Dad had picked Sam and I up from the airport. I have never really had any sort of close father-daughter relationship with my father. He is a rigid and cold military man. The kind of man you see as a sereotype in a war movie. I felt akward driving in the car with him on our way home. What do you say to a man who had just lost his daughter? Since we have never communicated our emtions to each other before I really didn't know how to approach the subject. I'm sure we talked about what happened, but I remember most of it being small talk.

As my father pulled the car into the driveway of my former home, I can remember feeling a sense of joy. It had been so long since I had seen it's stroganoff colored paint or Teddy, our little pomerainian dog barking behind the gate of our yard. I instantly jumped out of the car to pet him. He barked at me in his high pitched yip, so common in toy dogs. I knew he remembered me, even if it had been 2 and a half years. I walked around in the back yard playing with my dog a bit, before I made it into the house. I entered through the back door and instantly saw the upstairs living room filled with women. I'm sure I heard them first, because most of them were talking loudly. They were my mother's 4 sisters and 1 brother sitting and chatting. The one aunt that wasn't there was my Aunt Dawn. She had been the one in the accident and was still in a coma at the hospital. I searched the sea of faces for my mom's and found it. She was sitting in a chair with a sad look on her face. There was a bruise over her eye that I was sure had been caused by the accident. She smiled when she saw me and I bent down to give her a hug. Then I greeted each one of my aunts and uncle. That's when I also realized that my Mother's mom was there as well. I hadn't realized that all of my mother's extended family was coming to Alaska as well. At the time I had been so consumed with Stephanie's death that it hadn't occured to me that my Aunt Dawn's injuries warranted just as much concern as my dead sister. Now that I think about it, I'm sure most of my relatives were glad to be there for my mom's loss, but it was their owns sister's uncertainties that made their trips to Alaska necessary. None of my other aunts and uncle lived in Alaska. 2 were from North Dakota, 1 from Colorado and the other from Virginia.

I sat there visiting for awhile with my relatives, most of whom I had not seen since 1994. Then Sam and I decided to take a walk around the neighborhood. I also think our stroll was an excuse for us to smoke a ciggarette. At the time I don't think anyone in my family knew I smoked and I certianly didn't want them finding out then. We poured ourselves each a cup of coffee and set out. I remember their being a slight drizzle in the air as we made our way down the street. I pointed out certain places that held signifigance, like where I had my first kiss and the park I used to play at with my sisters. The moment would have been nice had it not been marred by my sister's passing, but still I enjoyed showing my husband where I had grown up. It's sad that the first time Sam visited Alaska was for Stephanie's funeral.

Eventualy we headed back to the house. Inside my Dad wanted to show me a tape of their church's service the day after my sister's death. He then told me he made me my own copy to watch at home. I haven't been able to watch the tape again since that day. The title of the sermon was 'Life's Uncertain". The pastor spoke specificly of my sister and her death. Watching the tape was like reliving the moment of "Stephanie's Dead!" all over again. I cried like I did that Saturday night and I was glad that I was viewing the sermon alone. I hadn't watned to cry this early into being home. I still had 5 more days here.

That night Sam and I slept in Stephanie's old room. She hadn't been living away from home for very long, so most of her belongings were scattered around the place. Pictures of her and her friends hung in place on the wall like they had just been put there the day before. There were posters that I had remembered once being mine that she had taken as her own in my abscense. CDs leaned against her stereo. There was the 'Oleander' album that she had secretly bought twice after my mother threw away the original, because of bad language. Then in a little cubby hole I saw her journals. I know I shouldn't have read them, because they were personal, but at the time I felt like I needed to take in everything about my sister. When someone dies you have such a strong need to remember every little thing about them. I wanted to be in her thoughts and memories. As I was pouring over every personal word, I came across an entry that after I read I tore out and placed in my wallet. I still keep it there to this day. I pull it out every so often and read the entry that might have forever been lost had I not been nosy. It reads:

August 12, 1999

Well, I am writing this at 11:30 pm on a Thursday rainy night. My sister Christina just left, the saddest thing. We spent the day mostly at home. For lunch we went to Pizza Hut. Then about fifteen minutes ago we had to say our goodbyes. :-( She was about to go upstairs and then I said to her, "Well, I guess I'm going to have to say goodbye." A sad look came over her face and then she droped her suitcase and gave me a hug. I didn't feel like crying at the moment cause I knew I would cry later. We hugged for a while and then Heather said, "Ahhhh." and then took a picture. Then Christina hugged me again. It seemed like she didn't want to let go. I loved it. Then it was time for her to go. I looked at her and she had tears in her eyes. I was so sad. I love her so much as she goes to college. I am sure going to miss Christina. P.S. As I was hugging her she said that she didn't want to let go. I love Christina.

To this day, reading the entry brings tears to my eyes, because I remember that night and it means so much to me that she wrote such loving words about me. I still have that picture Heather took. It's one of my favorites.

12:15 AM - 2 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

Stephanie's Death: Part Two
Current mood: contemplative
Category: Life

Death is a horrible sadness to begin with, but it almost seems worse that someone has to die, before you realize how out of touch you were with them. Growing up Stephanie and I had been close. Our times together included the fake radio show we tape recorded where we were the DJ's Heartyface and Roxy and also the times we dressed up as 'The Spice Girls' just for fun. But, then there was the time after I left Alaska and moved to Michigan that Stephanie and I didn't talk like we once did. I wasn't at home any longer to share with her that knowing glance of something we both thought was funny, but nobody else got. We grew apart and I hadn't even called her to wish her well on her wedding day. I remember being in the car with a freind and suddenly realizing it was my sister's wedding day and then announcing it, but eventualy doing nothing about it. The last time I talked to Stepahnie was a month before her death. It was small talk. I asked her if Mom was being controlling about the new baby by doing everything for her.

12:03 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Stephanie's Death: Part One
Current mood: contemplative
Category: Life

As the three year anniversary of my sister's death nears she has been on my mind and this morning when I woke up I had a sudden strong urge to write about her death and how it effected me. As I began to type I realized I couldn't write it all at once and so I have decided to tell this story in parts. Here is Part One.

11:08 AM - 3 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

Fiona Apple
Current mood: content
Category: Music

So, it has now been three days since the concert and still I can not get the experience out of my head. Of all the times I had gone to see bands, singers ect. I have never been so consumed with the experience of it all. Up to that point I would always say that my first Ani show was the best concert experience I had ever been to, but now I have to change that to say Fiona is at the top. She sang her songs as if she was actually going through the emotions of what they were about. At times she fell to the floor and at other times her voice cracked with the weight of her aggresion. My body tingled with the excitment of what I was witnessing. For someone to feel their emotions so strongly and to be able to work them out in song is just amazing. She reminded me of Kurt Cobain and how on his unplugged CD the pain in his voice just resonated. Except Fiona  showed her anger, sadness, and joy. Coming home I ran into another concert goer who said that he had seen her also the night before in Detroit. At the time I thought that was silly, but now that I think about it I could understand why somebody would want to see her over and over. If only I could.

11:26 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment