Garlands of flowers everywhere
All of the colors of the rainbow
Maidens with flowers in their hair 🎶
🎶 Flowers that mean we should be happy
Throwing aside a load of care
Oh, May Day is Lei Day in Hawaii
May Day is happy days out there 🎶
I remember singing and dancing to this song when in elementary school on Maui. We’d put on a big show for our parents and anyone else who came. Each grade put on there own dance, at least a hundred in each grade. The teachers were responsible for teaching their classes the dance, then the last couple of days the whole grade would get together and try to synchronize, hoping that we’d all get it close enough to make it look as though we’d been practicing together, the hundred of us, all along. Five grades, five different dances. Oh, the memories.
2014 is finally over! One of my worst years, personally, and in business. For the last several weeks, I have been waiting for the year to change. I’d even started dating my documents with the new year, only having to correct myself once, whereas before, I’d have to do so, trying to get used to the idea of putting in the new numbers. It hasn’t been easy for me, physically, mentally, and especially emotionally.
With my best friend of thirty years gone, I had to learn to live without his protection. Luckily, shortly after he died, I reunited with someone who I hadn’t seen in a few years who I can lean on, but I am still getting used to the idea of having someone else fill those shoes. He reminds me a lot of my old friend, he knows when I need him, even from a far, he can see the look on my face of pain and anguish, even though I try my damnedest to hide it.
He understands my feelings of sadness, anger, frustration. He instills feelings of love, calmness, and wants to help me heal. He is my friend, my confidant, and my mentor. He is someone I can talk to without being judged. Someone I can turn to when my husband is out of reach, or impossible to talk to, which happens often these days, due to misunderstanding, drunkeness, or just simply no interest. Everyone needs someone like that. After David died, I never expected to find that again in someone else. I am very lucky.
The last few months, I have been so ready for the year to end. The urge to jump into the new year has been strong. Every one agrees that it will be s good year. I have already seen change around me. The people, their thoughts, their attitudes, their ambitions. Making plans, setting goals, adding to their wish lists with more promising thoughts.
A fellow writer was commenting on the fact that he hadn’t wriiten as many poems/songs as he normally does in a years time, just didn’t have the motivation. When I heard that, I reflected back on my year of writing and realized I hadn’t written as much either. Just no motivation. My heart just wasn’t in it. One of the goals, or hopes anyway, is that I can bring myself to write more. Of course, I’ve been working on my fictional, but when it comes from deep within the heart, it’s always in a song or poem. And it’s real, not just a story.
So, with the new year comes new avenues, new dreams, new terms, new ambitions. Welcome, 2015.
There are times when I’m sitting at the bar, zoned in on my pen and pad, while everyone else is talking and shouting over the music and sports games. Occasionally, they will try to say something to me, but it will just go over my head. In one ear, out the other, not even heard or noticed. It won’t be until someone taps my shoulder or yells practically in my face with their overly boozed breath that I even realize that it’s me they are trying to communicate with. I then shake out of my writing zone, apologize and ask them to please repeat what was just said or even what the subject was. Many times it’s something absolutely ridiculous and I just don’t even want to get involved. That is shown on my face or in the sound of my voice when I state my response, thinking, “just leave me alone and let me write.” Not said, but understood.
I’ll go back to my writing and the boys will laugh. One will say, “she’s listening, she just doesn’t want us to know it.” I’ll just smile to myself as I continue to write. If they only knew just what I’ve heard when I zone out and ‘ignore them.’
I never thought I’d have the joy of having grandchildren. Mainly because I am unable to have children of my own. But over the years, I learned that I can still have children, even if they aren’t my own to claim. It all started out several years ago when the young teenage son of a friend came to me asking for help. His father was being abusive and he needed to escape. After speaking at length with his mom, my husband and I decided to open our home and hearts to those who need the extra tlc. Our door was always open for kids to come by after school and do their homework until their parents got home. They came and spent the afternoon with us, watching tv and enjoying each other’s company. There were times when they needed a safe place to stay, and there was always a bed ready and waiting for them. If they just needed someone to talk to, we were there.
As time went on, we became close with these kids. They looked at us as parenting figures. And a couple of them began celebrating Mothers Day with me. And Fathers Day with my husband. Their parents were also very grateful to us for helping their kids. We were a second set of parents. Having been adopted myself, I know how it feels to have someone care for me and want me in their home as they did, as I did for my kids.
Now, all my kids are grown up. The youngest is about to turn 30. Amongst these kids (there’s eight of them now), my seventh grandchild was just born on April 23rd, and there’s an eighth on the way in September. It brings me pleasure to see these kids grow up and have families of their own. They introduce me as Grandma or Tutu (Hawaiian), and it brings me nothing but pleasure to welcome these kids into the world and into my heart as family.
Every year at this time, I reach out to my friends and family in hopes that support will show for not only myself, but for others who face the challenges of Epilepsy.
This is an important week for us, in that today, March 22nd, is a National March for Epilepsy in Washington DC. Unfortunately, I cannot be there with my friends who also have epilepsy, but my heart and thoughts are with them as they open the eyes of those around them. Kudos to those who are there.
This coming Wednesday, March 26th is Purple Day, on which we reach out to our friends and families to wear purple in support of our cause. It can be a piece of clothing, a pin, a ribbon, anything purple. Purple Day was founded by a nine year old in Nova Scotia in 2008. She wanted to help extend the knowledge of epilepsy around the world. You can find more information about her and the background of Purple day on the website www.purpleday.org.
Please, if you will, join us on Wednesday with something purple. We would appreciate that, and most of all, I appreciate YOU!!
Yesterday was a very trying day. I had been experiencing some slight chest pain the last few days, thinking nothing of it, as pain all over my body is normal with injuries I’ve sustained over the years. Yesterday was the worst. I felt as though my ribs were being squeezed together, and my upper arms were feeling weird sensations, for a lack of a better term. I closed my office early and had my husband take me up to the emergency room. Immediately, an EKG was performed along with some blood tests, and I was diagnosed as being fine, but some xrays were taken just to be sure. Again, the word was that I was fine. The only thing they were concerned about was my blood pressure, as it was a bit high.
Sure, I was pleased to know that I’m fine, but then again, I hate not knowing where this pain is coming from. What I’m feeling today isn’t as bad as it was yesterday, but still, it’s there. All we can guess is that I may have strained a nerve somewhere with heavy lifting or an odd movement of some kind, and I’ve been told to take it easy for a little while, to let myself heal a bit before doing anything strenuous. And, in basically the same sentence, to take a stress test within the next couple of weeks to be sure. But, with the pain I’m feeling, I am thinking I wouldn’t make it through the test. It would just make my body feel worse. So, I think I’ll wait on that one, just to give this pain a chance to heal itself first.
I must admit, it’s hard to keep myself down. Even my husband laughed when the doctor told me to take it easy, but I think this time, I’m going to try my damnedest to do so, even if I have to tie myself to the chair!!
The last few weeks, I have felt stressed, rushed, running out of time. Then when I look at my calendar,, I realize that it’s only February. Yet, still, I’m running out of time. Time for what? I just don’t know. With business picking up, I feel I have very little time to write. I’ll start a poem or a new chapter in my book, and I feel I don’t have time to finish it, so I just pack it up and put my notebook back in my bag. I try to make a pattern, but am unable to finish it, as my time runs out at the end of the day. I sit while waiting for my dinner, but then I don’t get to finish my current stitch as the food arrives. I visit with a friend, but I have no time to really enjoy his company. I have a seizure, which takes away from my energy, and by the time I’m feeling better, it’s taken up the time I could have used to finish the books. And now, I learn I have high blood pressure, and suddenly, I don’t feel I have the time to finish my goals in life. I’m about to have another grandson, will I have time to see him grow? Time…I’m losing time. But what is time? The seconds of the clock? The hours of the day? The days of the year? The years of our lives? I want more time…
(I’m sorry, I just needed to vent a little…back to work)
Four in the morning, as I am wide awake, flooded with memories of Kai walking into the costume room. “How do I look?” He asks in a soft voice. “You look stunning, but you’re missing a button off your uniform.” I look through my huge box of buttons, quickly looking for an olive green button that will at least somewhat match the others in his USO costume. I find one that is slightly off, but will do. He takes off his shirt and hands it to me, as I thread a needle and sit down next to the sewing machine. I quickly fix his shirt and drape it over his shoulders and button up his shirt. “You are a life saver, he says. “No,” I replied, “you saved my life.” He looks at me and pulls me close to hold me. How good it felt to be in his arms… The music for his song and dance number begins as he runs up the stairs and onto the stage, leaving me with a kiss on my forehead and tears in my eyes…