Monday Memories - Memories and Memorial

I came across these pictures in a box from Betsy's. The picture above and the picture below, (l-r) is Betsy, Cindy, Ann. These are Will's sisters. I love these photos!

I had to include one with the four of them . . .

And I could not exclude the wedding shot she had . . .

(I wonder, in hindsight, if there could be do over, would those flowers on those

dresses be so big? hehe)

Betsy, Nephew C, and Cindy - early 2006

This year Memorial Day seems to bring more to mind the Memorial Day weekend three years ago. I honestly could not tell you the date, I just know it was the morning of the Saturday of Memorial Day weekend, 2006 when we received the call that Betsy was no longer with us.

So today, for Memory Monday's with Gayle, I am remembering siblings, Will, Betsy, Ann, and Cindy. There are actually some great stories they share, but the stories just aren't flowing today. BUT, for another time, another memory day, I will share some of them then. For now, I am glad that they have fun memories.

It saddens me for them that no new memories with Betsy are being made, that there is that void. But maybe days, moments like these should be the reminder of how precious those interactions are with each other. How pleasant, loving times feed us emotionally for longer than that one moment. So smile and go make a memory today . . . laugh :)



And before any thoughts can arise that I might be leaving others out, I am not. . .

A great big thank you!!

Memory Monday

I don't need these anymore, it is now too warm for them. They will be packed up for next winter. But they stirred a memory, and that is what Gayle is asking for!

When I worked for Behavioral Health at the hospital, we had a department "retreat" for the therapist and managers. While I was not one of the above, and was a worker for this event, scheduling the facility, ordering and picking up lunch, and so on, they did so nicely give me these big fuzzy fiesty pair of slippers. All received them, the setting was to be relaxed for the day.

Well, hubby has given a chuckle whenever I break these out. Granted it means that my tootsies are cold and I am trying to stay warm more than trying to make a fashion statement. Which is a good thing, the fuzzy wild animal print on these, I have noticed, does nothing for him! But I recognize the chuckle and lack of adoration towards my choice in what to wear.

I recognize it because of this memory:

This is 1981, Christmas in a house being ridded of some internal walls and soon that hideous carpet and paneling. My mom is on the right. See that turquoise gowny thing she is wearing? She always wore it around the house. Summer, Spring, Fall, Winter - it was the main item she lounged in. My dad would, playfully, pick on her about it. Not that it mattered and I find it amazing that he noticed! He would make a joke, or grab at it - it was elastic around the neckline/shoulders - so it would stretch out and pop back in place when he released it. She would laugh and continue being comfortable.

One spring, after years of wearing this, my mom once again "got comfortable." In that turqoise gown. Once again my dad teased. Once again he gave it tug. But not again. Finally the elastic had had enough, it stretched and did not return to its origin. Thus ended the time of the turqoise gown! I wonder what harm might come to my fuzzy warm slipper?

Hosted by: Gayle, Planet M Files

Betsy

There are many stories I have not told, naturally, but there is one that keeps coming up. I keep debating about telling it . . . today I will, at least part of it.

I truly believe grief has to be one of the strangest of human emotions. It seems to me, that about the time one believes the “grief” and the loss are dealt with, the emotions come up and bite you in the back side. So far 2009 seems to be doing that a little more in our family. I don’t know why, it will be soon 3 years since the loss . . .

Remember a couple weeks ago when Ocho moved back in and I had a room to take apart? Well in re-organizing the contents of the room, I came across a folder. I did not recognize it – but as I started going through it a rush of emotions and tears took over. No one was home, so I could cry without making a scene or stirring things up for others.

A week before that, I received a call from my Kat, our niece, seeing if I was close by. My mother in law was having a very hard day. The sight of an old acquaintance brought the emotions to the surface.

My husband is the youngest of four children -and the only boy. There is Ann, the oldest, Betsy, 2nd; Cindy 3rd and then Will. Memorial Day weekend 2006, our family received news that seems still all too surreal. We were in town as well as our niece and Betsy and her husband. Everyone else had gone away for the weekend. At 5:30 a.m. on that Saturday, we received a call from Ann, who was at the beach. Em (her daughter and house sitter) had called when a detective had arrived at my MIL’s house during the night. Betsy had died, overnight. Actually she had been shot and killed. (Emotions are buggers, this is harder to write/type than to say). It was devastating and just did not fit into our world. No one’s world, no real people that is. In one evening the family lost a daughter, sister, friend, aunt. And they lost a son-in-law, brother-in-law, uncle, friend. What happened? Emotions, loss of control, bad decision? All of them combined. Life was crumbling around my brother in law, and in the heat of things, an action was taken and with that a life and his freedom.

What was in that folder? It was a folder of sentimental items from Betsy’s house. Probably a drawer with miscellaneous cards and photos and

School record book and what was once white gloves

Lovely notes of affection from her husband. It is rather difficult to read cards that shared such love and to know how the story ended.

I had wondered, and still do, what to do with the items. A shadowbox for my MIL? Or would that be too, oh I don’t know . . .

So here we are today. I forgot what today was. It would have been Betsy’s 51st birthday. My MIL has asked everyone to go out to eat tonight because it would have been Betsy’s birthday. This is new. I asked hubby about it and he said he believes she is afraid of the forgetting. Even though so many memories are re-told and enjoyed at the various get togethers, time is still marching on. More time away from Betsy.

There is always a laugh at how Betsy never peeled a shrimp for herself or cut her steak, and now she is in Heaven with her dad, probably back to his cutting her steak and shelling her shrimp . . .

I think I will have shrimp tonight . . .

Memories

Rhonda triggered a memory.
Her post of the letter from her mother made me feel so good. It was the little things that reminded me of my own childhood memories and fun. The memory of playing with paperdolls that had escaped to the deep recesses of memory arose with the excitement of cutting those paper outfits out to go on the flat doll.

The pancakes in her mom's letter triggered the memory of the fun of making mudpies in a frisbee. Sometimes those mudpies were laced with mashed plums set out to harden. I remember once even ruining a blouse with the so imagined delicious dish. This memory also brought back several memories that involved something very important: the playhouse.

My cousin had outgrown the cute little house and it was passed on to us. Us being me and my brother - he did not play house, but it did hold tricycles and such. It was also our lunch spot everyday one summer. My mom would bring our lunch to us, usually a sandwich, and a can of nectarine juice. I hate that drink to this day! The playhouse was white with blue trim. It had an eave that cut down across the front and a double door. We would close the bottom and open the top and pretend we had a restaurant and everyone wanted our pies!

My mom kept a few kids at home rather than working outside the home. Sometimes the backyard was so full of kids close to our ages, nothing but fun was to be had. I remember a kid my age named Greg. We were probably all of 7 at the time. We were "playing" like we were husband and wife, we both worked and took our tricycles home (down the long side walk in the back yard) to the play house. He did not arrive though, he took a turn around the playhouse straight to the swingset behind the playhouse. I waited on the front, finally he came around from the back, and I stood, placed my hands on my hips and said "Where the H*&L(my first cuss word) have you been?" I was just playing, but somehow my mom did not find that very funny at all! Needless to say, that ended my playing that afternoon.

That wasn't the best of my days but I can't help but to crack up at how growny I remember thinking I was!

One more playhouse memory though. As this weekend has been chilly with the remnants of winter, but bright with the promise of spring there is the memory of the annual escape to the playhouse my brother and I would make. We would bundle up near the end of winter, usually with snow still on the ground, and would quietly open the door of the playhouse, and ever so softly step in. Once both of us were in and ready we would SLAM the door as hard as we could. From the sides of the wall studs and ceiling hundreds and hundreds of moths, startled awake, would fly frantically all about us. Some might find that creepy, but to us they were just plain butterflies, and to be in the middle of all those fluttering wings was the best thing in the world as a kid.

What warm thoughts do you have as the weekend comes to a close?