Mortality

Understandably as we grow older, mortality seems to be an ever-present tingle in our minds… and yes, sometimes the thought is VERY scary. We lose folks around us that mean a lot, and we discover new aches, pains, and things that just don’t work as well anymore. But instead of fearing the INEVITABLE (NO ONE ESCAPES!) and burying ourselves in what once was, I choose to look forward.

 

I choose to be thankful for the things and people I have had in my life, and the time I had with them. I choose to be thankful for what I have now. I choose to be thankful for now, who and what I am, my memories, and my ability to hope for a tomorrow. Yes, I still shed tears for people I miss, my parents, my sister, a couple of cousins, a few friends… and yes, even some beautiful pussycats. But I try not to let my tears consume me, and I know that those I love and loved wouldn’t want me to waste a single day or moment that I have left.

 

And yet I can’t help, every time my phone rings at an unlikely hour, and every time I don’t get a response from someone I’ve reached out to, just a little bit of a shudder and a slap of what could be reality… and thankfully MOST of these alarms are simply false as I breathe a sigh of relief. I just don’t ever want to waste a day, I don’t want to waste any time telling someone how much I love them, I don’t want to waste any time cuddling a pussycat. Yes, I want to spend time reliving some of our memories with my loved ones, and I also want to make lots of new ones.

 

And when the day comes when I am gone, and those I leave behind shed a few tears, I hope they will live and love the happiest lives they can… mostly for them (and selfishly, just a little tinge for me). I truly believe the best honor we can each do for our dear loved ones is to live each new day as fully as possible and to remember our shared memories long after we can no longer share.

 

Here is to EVERY tomorrow!

 

The Peter Pan Story

 

I was about 5 or 6 years old when my paternal grandfather passed away… he wasn't that old, maybe 58 or 59. I really didn't understand at that time that I would NEVER see Pop again. At his wake (my Dad was Jewish through his mother, not his dad), I had no idea what was going on – and I snuck into the room at my aunt's house where the coffin was, climbed up on a chair, and tried to wake my grandfather. I was shaking him in the open coffin when it was discovered where I was. My aunt scolded me and stopped suddenly; I saw tears in her eyes. My parents took turns holding me and explained that Pop wasn't going to wake up.

 

I wasn't allowed to go to the funeral, I think a neighbor watched my sister and me. My sister (5 years older) gently tried to explain about death and its finality, I think I began to catch on. But when my parents came home, I saw Daddy crying – I didn't think that fathers ever cried. That's when the explanations my sister tried to tell me really hit me… and I was terrified.

 

Daddy wiped his tears, held me, and asked why I was so scared. I told him in my own juvenile way that I realized that growing up meant that our parents would die. I knew that my Mom's father had died long before I was born (I'm named for him) and that reinforced my terror. I cried long and hard on my Dad's shoulder while he tried to comfort me. I kept on yelling that I didn't want to ever grow up.

 

Daddy hugged me, his arms were always so strong and safe, and he asked me if my name was Peter Pan. I stopped crying and looked at him, I had no idea who Peter Pan was. He told me that Peter Pan was the boy who never wanted to grow up. I told Daddy that I agreed. He chuckled.

 

We sat in his chair, he put me on his lap, and he told me, it's true, as we get older, we often lose those who are older than us. Daddy said that's the way it's supposed to be, and then he told me that even though losing people sometimes hurt, he would never change a thing because growing up also meant that you would meet new people and have families of your own. Daddy said that if he and Mommy hadn't grown up they never would have met, and they never would have had "the most beautiful daughters" in the world. And he told me that even though he and Mommy would one day leave this earth, he knew that we would both find others to love and maybe even have our own beautiful children.

 

Daddy died a little more than 17-years after he lost his own dad. My sister had already married and had a son, a grandson who was the pride and joy of both of my parents. I had also gotten married to a man I loved so much. Mommy and Daddy were thrilled with both of their daughters and the "sons" we had brought them. During the days after he passed, I heard Daddy's voice, ACTUALLY HEARD IT, telling me that he was glad I had decided not to be Peter Pan and he was excited about the life I would live.

 

Although my husband and I lost all 4 of our parents just a few years after our marriage, I still feel blessed. Today, more than 46 years after marrying the love of my life, we have two beautiful grown children, a daughter and son, and two wonderful in-law children. We've had adventures and many joys. My sister and her husband had a second son, two daughters-in-law, and 4 grandchildren… and their first GREAT grandchild was born shortly before my sister died.

 

We grew up, and just as Daddy told me, I wouldn't change a thing. I am so glad I wasn't Peter Pan.

 

Grief

We've all experienced it, it's that ache inside your chest that has led to the common and anatomically wrong description of "a broken heart". Your heart may feel like it's breaking over the loss of a parent, a sibling, a pet, or any loved one. Sometimes grief strikes over the ending of a way of life, the loss of a dream, a worrisome medical diagnosis, or the breaking of a cherished object, but there it is.  Grief never leaves, it is just something that you learn to live with.

 

No one's grief is as intent or paralyzing as another's. No one solution will work for all to put grief away in a tidy little box and only visit it occasionally. A response from someone may seem callous at first… just get over it… it might be that person's inability to process or deal with their own fear of grief. Grief is like a fingerprint and different for each person, and even different for one person dealing with more than one loss. Grief's five letters, like fingers of a hand, will slap you until you can no longer turn away.

 

The past two years have been tough on so many, Covid deaths and losses, isolation from loved ones, failed businesses, lost income, and so many lost opportunities. Yes, things MAY be easing now, but it's so much time lost, so many changes. So many of us are confused between our anger and our sorrow. So many of us just want to resume our NORMAL lives, but we can't, we can't rewind to a time we felt safer and more connected. So many of us are struggling. So many are mourning losses, time, missed events, missed memories, and now we are just expected to resume our lives as if nothing ever happened.

 

If you are struggling, there is help…

The Suicide Prevention Lifeline

1-800-273-8255

Veterans’ Crisis Line

1-800-273-8255 press 1

National Drug Helpline

1-844-289-0879

Reach out, for yourself and for others

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Year of Firsts

I posted back in June, my only sister passed away fairly unexpectantly. She was five years older than me and in her early 70s, we had A LOT of time together, I am very blessed for that. It's still a huge change in my life though…

 

As we are nearing the end of 2021, and with all of the holidays surrounding us, her absence from my life is weighing heavily on my mind. This is what I call the "Year of Firsts" — it's the FIRST time that I am doing things differently, doing things without her presence. Although I will always be sad that she isn't here, the "next time" becomes a little bit more normal.

 

We lost our parents in 1977 and 1979 and we had each other for support during the years of firsts (and yes, Thank G-d, we also had our husbands who were total rocks for us). As our own young families grew, we spent many, many Thanksgivings together taking family pictures and torturing our kids along the way, lol. As our own children got older and had their own homes, we didn't have the dinners together, but my sis and I often spent A LOT of time on the phone "cooking together"… this year I didn't have that.

 

I began to think about the upcoming New Year's Eve and how every year we would be on the phone together within minutes of the ball drop in Times Square. That phone call will be missed this year. Her first birthday since she is gone and all the holidays since have been painful reminders that she isn't here, everything was a first. I know that even after the first anniversary of her passing there will still be so many poignant moments, but I will have gotten through it once already.

 

It's not that I am strong, but I do remember all the wonderful years I had with her and all of our memories. I am in the process of writing MY memories down because with my parents and now my sister gone, I'm the only one with ALL of those memories. (And as my daughter said to me, it's a GREAT opportunity for me to put MY spin on everything!) My memories and my blessings are what will get me through.

 

I had my sister in my life for 67 years, a lifetime of secrets, laughter, compassion, sharing, joys and just simple talks. I have my brother (in-law), her husband, who has known me since my teen years and has become more of a brother than an in-law. I have my sister's sons and their families in my life. My husband and our children and their mates got to know her. And I have many little tidbits of advice she gave me (she not only loved to tell me what to do, but she was also a psychologist) that will remain with me forever.

 

While I still shed tears, sometimes more often than I want to admit, I also realize how fortunate I've been to have had ALL the people in my life that have been here — and I am truly so fortunate to have had such a wonderful friendship with my sister.

 

I am halfway through the "Year of Firsts", I'm going to make it.

 

Bobi, I will always love you.

IT WILL NEVER BE THE SAME

 

 

From early 2020 through spring of 2021, the COVID pandemic brought about so many losses and changes… in less polite terms, COVID was a b*tch!

 

Throughout the pandemic, which affected the entire world and not just our country, we heard of lives lost (sometimes whole families!), financial difficulties, closed businesses, inadequate schooling, jobs gone, and emotional trauma that will last forever. Politics and politicians became part of the blame game. Friends became adversaries about things like masks and vaccines. Increased racism became a focus for anger, fear and blame.

 

There was so much heartache as families could not see each other, grandparents felt forgotten, children only saw friends via computerized apps, and relatives in hospitals and nursing homes were kept isolated from family and friends. Healthcare workers were overtaxed and often driven into despondency because of the emotional toll. While many workers who were still lucky enough to have their jobs worked from home, it changed the relaxing escape to go home at the end of the workday, into the feeling of “living” at your job. Snow days no longer existed since many students were learning from their own homes via computer. And areas without decent internet and computers were often left without schooling, and “ZOOM” family get-togethers.

 

According to reports, here in America, there were 621,633 COVID deaths as of July 7, 2021 — yes, SOME of those who died had “pre-existing conditions”, conditions which they had lived with for many years before COVID struck. There were many TEMPORARY business closures that turned into permanent ones, according to a recent Wall Street Journal report, “the pandemic resulted in the permanent closure of roughly 200,000 U.S. establishments above historical levels during the first year of the viral outbreak”; that is ABOVE the national rate of normal businesses that close for reasons including bankruptcy, retirement, and general demographics. Many EMTs, Paramedics, Healthcare Workers and other First Responders died, they died doing their job to help others.

 

It’s been said that US job losses due to COVID-19 are the highest since the Great Depression. Food banks were overtaxed helping to feed families who couldn’t afford groceries. Prices on certain commodities rose because of hoarding and shortages, 2020 became the year of toilet paper and hand sanitizer shortages. Our economy suffered in every conceivable area. In June of 2020 it was estimated that nearly half of all American homeowners considered selling their home simply because they could not afford the mortgage payments. Over one-third of homeowners could not afford to hire outside contractors to make necessary home repairs and had to attempt the job themselves; about 18% of those were unsuccessful.

 

But even when the COVID illness wasn’t the threat, there were many lives lost because of it. People experiencing chest pains, severe “headaches” or other sudden symptoms were afraid to call 911 or go to the hospital and the waiting game caused a higher mortality rate. People in the often-unknown stages of Dementia or other debilitating conditions were not being seen in-person by their doctors and the isolation from family members and friends, as well as the lack of personal interaction caused many sufferers to deteriorate at a faster rate. According to the Houston News in May, 2021, “Dementia diseases were the sixth leading cause of American deaths during the Covid Lockdown of 2020” due to the severity of isolation brought on by the lockdown.  

 

Things will never be the same. There is no way we can go back. Just about everyone knows the empty hole that has been left in their lives by the loss of loved ones. Families who were uprooted are trying to make their new lives with different expectations. While the major lockdown restrictions have been lifted in our country, there are still CDC recommendations to wear masks (especially if you are not vaccinated). Some travel restrictions remain in place depending on your destination and departure point.

 

We can only go on from this point as wisely AND KINDLY as possible.

 

 

 

 

 

LIFE GOES ON

 

Life goes on, despite tears and disappointments life continues.  We can sit mired in sadness or we can choose to live our best lives. For anyone who has suffered the loss of a loved one, a life-altering illness, the breakup of a relationship, or the betrayal of a friend, LIFE GOES ON.

In my own life, I recently suffered the passing of a loved one.  As I experienced the shock, pain and cries of “how do I cope”, I realized that she loved me as much as I love her — and she would not want me to “stop living”. I need to honor her memory and the love between two sisters. For ourselves and for those around us that we care about, we need to choose life in the best way possible. It is okay to carry our memories, and even shed a tear now and then, but life goes on.

Make the most of the time YOU have left to honor the memories and to care for those still around you. If someone you love has passed on and your heart feels broken, know that they would not want you to waste what is left of your life or to ignore other loved ones around you. You might even want AND need to double your love for the other members of your family who have also suffered the loss. You can never replace the loss but being with other members of your family is good for all of you.

If you have ever dabbled with Tarot Cards, you might have noticed the Five of Cups. The card depicts a figure that is wearing a black cloak. The person hides her face in what seems to be despair. There are five cups on the ground, three of which have fallen while the other two remain standing. The woman, however, doesn’t seem to notice that there are two standing cups and is too busy mourning over those which are fallen. There is a powerful river which flows between her and a house or a castle in the distance, indicating that a torrent of emotions have separated her from home.

Always remember your loved ones who have passed before you, keeping their memories alive will keep them from dying a “second death" by being forgotten. In Judaism we say a prayer for the deceased that is called Yizkor:

May G‑d remember the soul of my (mention her Hebrew name and that of her mother) who has gone to her [supernal] world, because I will - without obligating myself with a vow - donate charity for her sake. In this merit, may her soul be bound up in the bond of life with the souls of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel and Leah, and with the other righteous men and women who are in Gan Eden; and let us say, Amen.

 

Honor those you have lost by living the best way you can — love others, do good for others (including strangers) with charity and empathy, and most importantly, love yourself. Never lose sight of what you have had... and still have.

 

 

Eyes Wide Open

 

Many of us have the luxury of growing up “without a care in the world” — yet as life goes on and we face hardship or loss, our attitudes change, our priorities shift. It’s not only the sad times that change us.

 

Try to think back to your childhood; What were your biggest concerns? What were the things you were sure you knew all there was to know? How confident were you that you could handle anything that came your way? Hopefully, as a child, you were able to know love, you were kept warm and nourished, and your biggest problems were which toy you wanted to play with — I was indeed one of the lucky ones.

 

My parents weren’t rich, but they were extremely loving and made sure that my sister and I were cared for. Even if some of our “wants” were beyond their means, they made sure we had what we needed. One of my favorite playthings was a dollhouse made of a cardboard box and plastic toy rejects made at the company where my dad worked. My mom was disabled for as far back as I can remember, but she was always there to talk out our problems, to help us with our schoolwork and to teach us about growing up.

 

Eventually I did grow up. Life was different. My sister was married and a mom herself, and my dad had been sick and it scared all of us, fortunately he did recover. And I had met the man I fell in love with and we got married. Life seemed idyllic as we began our married life in a place of our own and even with job loss and an out-of-control downstairs neighbor, things were going well. Then life changed… a little more than one year into our married life both my husband and I had to bury our fathers less than three weeks apart. And less than two years later my mom passed away. No matter how old you are, when you lose a parent you feel like an abandoned child.

 

We pulled ourselves together as best we could and life went on. A house in the suburbs and we decided to grow our family. After two early miscarriages, our beautiful daughter was born. Life was wonderful, we enjoyed being parents and my mother-in-law was thrilled with her granddaughter. We tried again to expand our family and four months into my next pregnancy my mother-in-law died — and I miscarried again. Life continued changing. My doctor wasn’t optimistic about my getting pregnant again, but quite surprisingly, a positive test came back and at six-and-a-half months, we brought a beautiful baby boy into the world.

 

We went through the ups and downs of their finding their way through their childhood and teen years. Our two beautiful children grew into amazing adults, their individual accomplishments and adventures continued to thrill us. Amazingly we both saw similarities to our four parents (they are named for three of them, a niece is named for the fourth), we admired their activism, their skills, and their compassion. Each had romances, some false starts, and (today) they are both settled down with wonderful mates. Seeing our children grow has been total joy.

 

Four years ago my husband suffered a stroke, he was rushed to the hospital, thank G-d survived and spent the next two months in rehab. I will never forget how, just after midnight on our 41^st-anniversary, the doctor walked in with the diagnosis. I was devastated to learn that my wonderfully strong husband was disabled. Today, four years later, though he has regained several of his abilities, the effects of the stroke remain (which often frustrates him).

 

So in 700-words, this has been my life. My priorities have changed, wearing a fancy dress to a party is no longer the most important thing. Losing our parents, our miscarriages, 9/11, storms we literally weathered, my husband’s stroke and this pandemic has certainly helped me see what is really important. Having my family around, seeing my (grown) children’s happiness in their own homes, knowing they each have good people to experience life with, and still having my husband to grow old with… to quote the song, “these are a few of my favorite things”. Happiness is what you have in your heart, the memories you’ve made, the dreams you still look forward to.

 

In a poem by Linda Ellis, it’s said “what mattered most of all was the dash between those years” (between birth and death). I’d like to think that one day my dash will shine very brightly with my memories, my tears, my joys and the love I have always known.

 

Dear Mario

Mario 2008-2018

It’s almost two years since you left us so suddenly. One morning you were just playing and the next you were gone. I don’t think I will ever really get over that.

We brought you home as a tiny kitten. It was so funny how you and your brothers CHOSE US that day we visited the animal shelter; you and Luigi stuck your little kitten claws into Marc’s sweatshirt and refused to let go, and Tigger beckoned to us through the bars of his cage. The three of you knew you had to come home with us that day.

You gave us ten beautiful years — and your name fit you so well, you grew from a tiny little kitten into a “Super” Mario, big and beautiful, and oh so affectionate. You were truly “My Gentle Giant”. We were in the middle of moving when you passed and we had such plans of you and your brothers running through our new home… we brought you with us anyway, you’re buried out back. 

I know you were greeted by our cats that came before you, Pumpkin, Dusty, Peppe, Shadow, Issabelle, Whiskas and Stumpy (actually your "nephew"). I really miss each one, please say HI for me.

Your dad and I have had the pleasure of cats living with us for almost our entire married life of nearly 45 years. There’s always been mischief, and lots of purring and cuddles. Our two-legged children (Jenni and Marc) grew up knowing your love and protection, and being so much richer for the experience of having “pets” in the house. Both of their grown-up homes are filled with four-footed members as well.

Mario, I always think of you, especially at this time of year, both for your birthday and for the day that you left us. I wish you had been around longer even though the ache of losing you could never be less.

Unfortunately, cats (and dogs) don’t have the life expectancy of humans and each one takes a little piece of our hearts with them as they pass. Yet somehow each cat (and dog) seems to make our hearts bigger and able to love more. Visits to the animal shelter always proved the ability to love another, and maybe even more than one at a time. We have been blessed to have had our four-legged companions live with us and show us how capable they are of loving us as much as we love them.

Mario, Luigi & Tigger

If you are looking for love…
visit an animal shelter.

Broken-Hearted, RIP Mario

We had to say good-bye to one of our pussycats this morning. It was a sudden illness that took Mario from us, the vet and the vet tech did what they could but there was no saving him. And I am heartbroken over the loss of this Gentle Giant of a pussycat.

So this post is dedicated to Mario, born in July 2008
(please forgive my self-indulgence). 

He was part of a litter and surprisingly he was left behind at the shelter as the "runt" - he grew to be such a big boy weighing in at over 25-pounds. Mario pretty much dwarfed his brothers Tigger and Luigi. He loved to chase reflections on the floor, the walls, and the ceiling... for a big cat he moved really fast. One of his favorite "toys" was an electric tower fan, it had a little shiny logo and when it caught the sunlight the reflection skittered across the floor, Mario had so much fun with it.

 I nicknamed him (in addition to my Gentle Giant) my Creamsicle because he was orange and white. As a tiny little kitten (we got him when he was three months old) he looked like he had dipped his nose into a bottle of white paint, and I still can't believe that something that tiny grew so big.

Mario had a distinct personality and I admit while the "breed" wasn't 

the same I did model the cat in two of my novels after him (Mauszer)

Mario played with his brothers, often stole their food, and fought and cuddled with them non-stop. We adopted Mario along with Tigger and Luigi in early September 2008 from our local animal shelter; Tigger was the "old man" at 3 years old, Mario (3 months) and Luigi (2 months) were the "babies".

At this point I know he is romping at the Rainbow Bridge with brothers and sisters he never physically met (Mark and I have had multiple cats for most of our married life), but I am convinced that their spirits still roam through our home — as I am sure Mario's spirit will pay visits every so often as well. 

He leaves us with beautiful memories. We love you Mario, thank you for being a part of our lives.

Have a good life ~ #MondayBlogs

Pain and grief are personal.

No two people will feel the same pain. For nearly 30-years as a NYS EMT I always asked my patients, as we were all trained to do, "on a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being the worst pain you ever felt, how bad is your pain?"

The real truth is that one person's "6" may be another person's "10" while someone's "8" barely gets a "2" elsewhere. It doesn't matter, it's all PAIN. As 1st responders we needed to know how the patient was managing the pain, was it getting worse or was it (hopefully) getting better?

It's the same with emotional pain, how we deal with it is individual. Two widows after losing their mates of many years will react differently and neither way is wrong or right. The same goes for other personal tragedies and losses, we all have to find our own ways to cope.

For some people the return to "normal" life takes longer than others, and for some the return never seems to happen. Is it wrong for a young mother to still cry years after a miscarriage, even when she has other children? Or for a man in his 50's to be angry after being hustled out of a long time job he's held for years? 

Human reactions are just that... human - and they are personal.

Somewhere down the line though we do need to regain some living potential again no matter how deep the wounds are. We need to allow ourselves the chance to heal even if it means we never lose our scars. Yes, there are people around us that need us to LIVE again, but we owe it to ourselves not to waste away.

A good friend of mine likes to say "Just put one foot in front of the other..." Healing is a process and no one expects you to ignore the wound or the scars it leaves. But if you let bitterness consume you or never stop crying, think of how much you will continue to lose.

It is so much harder than just these words, but somehow you have to find a way of focusing on what you still have whether they are memories or other loved ones. Whatever is in your past has made you who you are today and who you are is important, don't throw it away.

When I feel down and mourn loved ones no longer here (physically) I remind myself of the 5 of Cups Tarot Card and realize that I need to focus on the positives in my life. 

When my paternal grandfather died and I saw my dad crying I swore to him that I never wanted to grow up because growing up meant people got old and died. After laughing and calling me Peter Pan, he told me that yes, people do die but he was very glad to have grown up, met my mom and had my sister and me. He made me see that life is always giving us new things and we should never ignore the new joys. Years later I miss my parents very much, but I take such joy in my own husband and children. Daddy was right, I would never want to miss out on the life I have now.

I've been told that I have a Pollyanna outlook on life and that I am always looking for the bright side. In reality, I just want to live.

"I am convinced that life is 10% what happens to me
and 90% of how I react to it."
~ Charles R. Swindoll 

The Five of Cups is a Tarot card that signifies difficulty, loss, and the challenges of dealing with that loss. The figure in the card wears a black cloak in which he hides his face in apparent despair. At his feet are five cups, three of which have fallen and spilled onto the ground and the other two behind his back remain standing. He does not seem to notice these upstanding cups because he is so focused on the fallen cups instead. Ahead of him a powerful river flows between himself and a castle or home in the distance. To his right is a bridge that can lead him to the security of the house across the river. Despite the fact that this card has a strong indication of loss and tribulation, there is a positive aspect that must be considered. Is your cup half full or half empty?

#MondayBlogs ~ Peter Pan and the Circle of Life

With Mother’s Day just behind us (although moms will always be MOM), I find myself reflecting on my childhood and thinking about my mom and dad, both long gone, my Grandma, my aunts and uncles (most also gone) and even a few cousins, all younger than me. So many losses and I miss them all, but so many wonderful memories for me to hold on to.

When I was just five years old my paternal grandfather passed away. I remember being horrified at my dad’s tears and pain and I told my father that I never wanted to grow up. He asked me why and I told him, in my child’s frame of mind, that growing up meant that you lose people you love. I remember how he chuckled and hugged me; he told me that it could happen that way and that some order of loss was natural such as a child burying a parent.

He admitted that he was sad, but that growing up for him had meant finding his love, my mom, and having my sister and me. Daddy told me how happy he was with his life even though he had tears along the way. Although I was still frightened, my dad’s words helped me cope with the loss of my grandfather. Eighteen years later I sat at my father’s funeral and heard his words in my mind; once again he helped me cope. That year started a whirlwind of loss, eighteen days later my father-in-law passed away — in less than five years we buried both fathers and both mothers. Despite my father’s wise words, I wanted to go back to playing Peter Pan who never wanted to grow up.

Today, while I admit to thoughts about people I’ve loved and lost, I enjoyed a wonderful Mother’s Day. Because my loving husband is “under the weather” with a bad head cold we decided to have a family brunch right here. Our two children and their respective spouses (or as I prefer to say, my FOUR kids), my husband and I sat at the dining room table and enjoyed a simple but indulgent feast. While filling our plates and stuffing our mouths, there was laughter and joy. There were flowers and cards and smiles and warmth. My heart was so full with all of the riches of my life. The pangs of loss never go away, it never really gets better, but my dad was right. I grew up and have had so many wonderful things come in to my life.

My husband and I are married forty years this coming December; our daughter and her husband just celebrated their eighth anniversary; and our son and his bride just tied the knot last December after a lengthy courtship. I wish our parents were here to see their grandchildren and the wonderful people that they are, but I am sure they are looking in from heaven. My daughter is named for my mother and my son for my dad and mother-in-law and so often they remind me how appropriate the namesakes are. In the meanwhile I am celebrating my life and the memories we are making together, memories that will live on for generation, memories that will one day be the .stories told by my children and G-d willing my grandchildren… and maybe even beyond.

Life is good.

Many of my stories center around family dynamics, good and bad. Sometimes that's a challenge for me since many of my memories are on the positive side, but I do love writing about a "good" villain, lol.

Summertime reading is just around the corner, please check out my books, I am sure you can even find a few you can relate to... 

 http://chellecordero.com/

There But For The Grace Of God Go I ~ #MondayBlogs

Years ago I used to share office space with a lovely lady by the name of Ruth. Whenever Ruth heard of anyone's misfortune she always uttered the words "There But For The Grace Of God Go I."  Through the many years since I worked with her I've often found myself uttering those words in appreciation of my own blessings.

It's hard to hear news of someone else's sorrows and not empathize and when we empathize we find ourselves shuddering in fear as we realize the same thing could have happened to us. And we are thankful that it didn't — and then maybe we feel a tad guilty even though we shouldn't. Being grateful for our own fortunes doesn't mean that we don't feel for them.

We should always realize the things we have to be thankful for and never turn our backs because not everything goes our way. We should also, no matter how strongly we feel someone else's pain, never lose sight of joys. Each morning that we wake is an opportunity and each night that we close our eyes to sleep is an achievement.

A good reminder for me and the way I live my life is the Tarot card, the five-of-cups. The common depiction is of a sorrowful figure who is focusing  on three overturned spilled cups and ignoring the two full cups behind; although the meaning is a card of loss, it shows us that there is still something left. Never ignore all the joys and riches you have in life, concentrate on the good things. Like the old adage, "When life gives you lemons make lemonade," life is what you make of it.

Does this mean that we have to settle, no. We are still allowed to want, to set goals for ourselves, and even to appreciate the occasional win. We can be happy. I think the moral is that we shouldn't devalue the good things we have no matter what we may not have gotten in our lives. 

Appreciate everyone you have in your life.
Be happy with the things you have.
Enjoy life.

#MondayBlogs - Think first of others

When someone is upset by an event in their life such as the cancellation of a dream vacation, the loss of a pet, the break-up of a romance which you might not have approved of, or any stress caused by something they feel is important, it is NOT your job to tell them they don’t have a right to be upset. I’ve heard folks tell others that they are not the first person to…, so get over it; or say things like I didn’t like him anyway; it was only a pet; or even comparing their plight to another’s and making it trivial.

Anytime someone faces an abrupt change, or feels like things are beyond their control, or faces a disruption to their routine, it can cause stress and feelings of crisis. People react to stress in individual ways, they have different priorities, strengths and weaknesses. No one has the right to minimize another person’s concerns, fears, love, loss or sadness. Supporting someone who is in crisis mode means respecting their feelings and not putting your own feelings first. You may not care for dogs but telling someone who just lost their beloved pet that “it was only a dog” is cruel and thoughtless.

Practice kindness by showing compassion for someone who is suffering. Compassion begins with understanding their feelings, empathizing with them, and the desire to help them survive the stress. Minimizing and ignoring their feelings may be easier for you, but does nothing to help them. Respect their feelings, don’t criticize them. Be there to lend a shoulder or an ear, hold them (literally or figuratively) and let them know you care. Their feelings are important to them, respect that. This also holds true for celebrating accomplishments – it’s a big thing and important, so applaud them loudly and congratulate them without limits. 

“Compassion brings us to a stop, and for a moment we rise above ourselves.” ~Mason Cooley

I’ve been fortunate with the people surrounding me – one of my pussycats was recently very ill (thank goodness he seems to be recovering nicely) and friends and family offered encouragement and showed genuine concern. It really was appreciated.