Here is a memory of mine....
Its a Thursday Morning. Its 6:45 am, on October 14th 2010. As I wipe away tears, I began to share my story about missing my daughter....Maybe if I write some of it, some of the pain will leave my aching heart.
My Daughter was Born on, September 4th, 2009, at 830 in the morning. She was a beautiful, healthy baby. Although my pregnancy was a very long one, she was born perfectly healthy. She was the apple of my eye, and she was my world. I Loved her very much, and not a day goes by that I don't think about her, and there is not a day that goes by that I don't miss my beautiful baby girl. She made me the happiest person in the world, and I Love her forever more. She was truly my angel.
Than that dreaded day came by, James was being an ass, he was never around, and I needed a few things from the store, so I figured before it got too late, I would go out and get the things that I needed. Mom was at work, so I had no choice to take my daughter with me. With the intention of going into walmart to pick up a few things, I walked out of there, with a two hundred dollar bill. The guy who helped me out to the car, loaded everything into my car, and gave me a hard time, when I offered to give him a tip.
I put my daughter in her car seat, and fasten my seat belt, and headed back towards home, hoping that mom would be home, to help me unload the car. Sitting at a red light, I looked in the back, and my daughter was fast asleep. She truly was an Angel.
Next thing I remembered I woke up in a hospital room. Unaware of anything that was going on. I see my mom sitting in the chair next to me. Her eyes are all puffy, and red. I remember asking for my Daughter, and she just shakes her head no, and I didn't really understand much. The doctors come back to my room, and give me something for the pain, that puts me right back to sleep.
When I finally woke up again, there were people in the room, James was sitting on the bed with me, holding my hand, he had tears in his eyes, he never cries, mom was still in the same spot where I had seen her the night before. James just holds me hand, and mom comes up on the other side of my bed, and kisses my forehead.
Than, mom tells me, that we were hit by a drunk driver, my Daughter was announced DOA, she did not suffer at all, and it was instant. I am unable to process anything, I have no idea what she is talking about. Drunk driver??? DOA??? Didn't suffer??? Instant??? I cry more, I scream but no words come out. After a short time, it finally hit me....My daughter is dead.
She is gone. How? Why? Why am I still here?? How is she dead, and I am still alive? We were both in the car, I was in the front seat. How did I survive and she didn't? I had so many questions. Its been almost a year since the accident, and I don't have an answer to most of them.
I watched a Movie tonight, it was called "And than there was one" its about a family of three, that discovers they have AIDS, the baby, the father and the mother, and over time, the father and the baby become extremely sick, and eventually die from the disease....
My only comfort in losing my daughter, was I did not have to watch her die, and she did not suffer. She went peacefully. She didn't hurt, and she is not hurting now. She is with angels, and she is doing good. She will never know pain, and suffering, and for that, I am extremely grateful.
Tonight, my heart longs for her, and misses her, and I think about her, and I know that she is not suffering, and she is watching over me, and now she truly is my angel.
I walk a lonely road The only one that I have ever known Don't know where it goes But its home to me and I walk alone.
When my brothers best friend died, always comes to mind. He was that, he was my brother and it touched my life so much. When he died I saw my other brother cry and... that really got to me. Life is hard and you never know who you're going to lose...
Getting my oldest cat. He's about 18 now. I lured him to me with a hot dog. He was hungry and now he still likes hot dogs. He's also a good friend. AND HE'S ALIVE!!!
lt"I see o' night among the wins
The Devil walking widdershins
As stoney silent as the Sphinx
I sit upon the sandy links
And listen to the glittering spell
Of Asmodee, the Goat of Hell
"The Devil's Conversion" from the book "Konx Om Pax" by Aliester Crowley.
Sitting around playing board games with my friends... the pizza, soda and the um spirited play. Risk was one of our favorites followed by Axis and Allies and Nuclear war. Lord that was fun.VrEJdvJ1z8E4Ldeq
I got one Bullet and I'm not afraid to use it... Back off man!
I have several that I will share but this one stands out...
I am a paramedic and was working for a 911 service. Across from our station was a little gas station. Herbert was a sweet lil ole man. Over time, we got to know each other and he would ask me about the girls and I would ask about his Mrs. One morning, we got a call for CPR is progress at the local Hardees. I just got a funny feeling. The fire department and EMS arrived at the same time. Grabbing the equipment, my partner and I ran in and saw Herbert on the floor. I had a paramedic student with me but just could not let her do anyting... I had to, just to make sure I was doing everything I could. Tears were streaming down my face as I yelled for him not to do this...that he is a fighter, not to quit. I cussed him, I intubated him, I shocked him... I ran my code and did everything that I could.
A few weeks later, Herbert came to see me at the station. Tears in his eyes, he hugged me and thanked me for not giving up on him when the situation looked bad. I told him to never do that to me again and we would be ok. He had to retire due to his health, but he still came by the station for coffee every now and then.
I was moved to another station. A few months after he survived his massive heart attack, he suffered a stroke and did not recover.
Several people have asked me why I do what I do. If you work hard to save someone, only to have them taken away...my answer...I do what I can, if it is their time, nothing I do will make a difference...but if I can give them just a little bit more time, then I will.
One day at a time is enough. Don't look back and grieve the past, it's gone... don't be troubled about the future it has yet to come... live in the present and make it so beautiful that it will be worth remembering.
I have one.
A guy I had a crush on at work wanted to go to a part of Detroit he has never seen before. On the ride, we get to know each other a little better, and tells me that the girls are intimidated by me because I was more vocal about what I thought should be done, and I spoke my mind. I guess being an independent woman who speaks up scares twenty-something women, I thought to myself. I just shook my head and told him that those girls need to grow a pair and stop being so docile.
One I have from when I was a kid of my Grampa teaching me to fish. I can recall to this day him breaking off a piece of a weeping Willow tree to make a fishing rod. He showed me how to tie on the line bait the hook yep we used good old worms. I don't remeber if we caught anything or not I think I was maybe around 6 years old or so but to this day I know the exact spot in the park he taught me it's also one of my favorite spots to ride to. Anyone that knows Connecticut may know the park Putnam Memorial State Park.
The time I got my cat I still have now. I wanted a cat and I wanted it a certain way. Boy did I get the cat of my dreams =]
My memory is a sad one. I was signing on at the job centre and my daughter saw the front page of a free weekly newspaper, on the front was a animal rescue centre that had a lot of animals that needed home. I moved house in january and we already had 4 gerbils. I ended up ringing the animal centre to ask about the gerbils; she said they are two male gerbils. They 2 1/2 years old so they won't live long.
I said that's ok!
A week later we brough our beautiful gerbils home. Two males, Addy black and white and Bruno ginger and white.
We brought them home that Friday and I took loads of pictures of our new rescued gerbils. I felt so proud I had rescued them as they was sharing a room with birds, rats and cats no fun I think.
I uploaded the pictures to my pc and swooned on how much I had fallen in love with Bruno. I recall holding him in my hands so still and gentle in my palm. I cuddled him most of friday night after the kids went to bed....I loved him already!
I got to bed late Friday nite and overslept on saturday morning.
The next thing I hear Saturday morning is my youngest daughter screaming "Something is wrong with Bruno he keeps shaking!!!!!!"
I start to run downstairs and I meet my older daughter saying, "Mummy Bruno was shaking and he's stopped moving and I think he's died"
I came into the living-room to see my youngest holding my favourite gerbil Bruno in her hands saying "He's died"
I took Bruno in my hands and this was the first time I'd ever seen anything die so real in my hands. I held him until I felt him going cold.
I found a brightly coloured strippy sweetie tin and layed some kitchen role and placed him inside and put the lid on.
I burried him in the garden this august 2010. And I miss him everyday. I have grown flowers and pretty animal pots with flowers and numerous other things.
I only had Bruno for 8 hrs, but my affection for this tiny gerbil will last forever!!
Damn, Honey. You just made me think about Sheba.
My little girl always wanted a dog that would play with her, and fetch shit for her, and sleep in her bed at night, to chase away those pesky bad dreams. We never did want a puppy-mill dog, so this meant weekly visits to the local pound and Humane Society. During one of those visits, we saw a skinny little black thing, shivering back at the other end of the kennel. She was a Lab, mixed with something undefinable. We took her to the play area and she was really well-mannered. She sat on command, she fetched a ball (once). She was a skinny little thing, to be a Lab. We wrote up the papers, and took her on home. We named her "Sheba". It was my daughter's idea.
Sheba warmed to the family really quickly. She did sleep in my daughter's bed, until she got too restless and had to go check out the rest of the house. We moved to a place with a big ol' yard - just over an acre. Sheba seemed to take personal affront to the fact that there were numerous other critters that considered the yard to be their home. Rabbits, squirrels, raccoons, possums - she took it to heart that part of her job in the new home was chasing all these critters away. Didn't seem to do any harm, since the critters could easily scamper through the fence, but the openings in the wire were far too small for Sheba to make it through.
It was late summer, 2004. Hurricane Frances passed right over our house. The house was fine and we were all okay, but it messed up the yard pretty good. I was busy on the weekends, trying to clear out the worst of the fallen trees when Hurricane Jeanne came through, three weeks later. What Frances had loosened up, Jeanne knocked over. The trees had taken out a part of the fenceline, burying it in a tangle of twisted limbs and up-rooted timber. I couldn't see the damage, so I didn't know that there was now an opening Sheba could get through. I let her out that night, just like I did every night, and went inside to finish watching whatever the TV was playing. Apparently, the storm had destroyed the homes of most of the woodland critters living in the woods around the house, and they had taken shelter in the brambles as best they could. Sheba must have thought chasing them away was the height of good sport!
I can't make any excuses. I should have known better. All the streetlights were out. We had power from our generator only. It was pitch-fucking-dark out there, and she was a black lab, for Christ's sake. She probably never saw the car that got her. When she didn't come in that night, I went searching. I clambered all over the fallen trees. I drove down whatever streets were still passable, walking when I hit a dead end. We let all of our neighbors know to be on the lookout for our friend.
Guy that lived across the street from me came and told me where she lay. I drove over, picked her up, and brought her home. I buried her in a nice spot, safe from any more harm. A good spot to plant flowers, if we had a yen to. As I filled in the hole, my eyes clouded over and this cynical, grumpy old fart bawled like a child. Not the first hurt I've ever felt, and not the worst, either. But totally senseless, and I have to live with the fact that I could have easily prevented it.
ok i have one..
about a year ago we had a rare stormy night. lightening and everything. my then not yet 3 year old daughter wanted to go outside to play. i told her no and all of you mothers, fathers and day care workers can guess the.. "why!" argument that came next.
finally, i said "because if you go out there you might get struck by lightening and die and then i will have to bury you in the ground!"
and my 2 year old said "That's ok mamma...cuz then i be a flower"
i was dumbstruck...
I cherish the memory of sitting on a park bench on a lovely October evening with my best friend by Lake Harriet. We talked and laughed and simply enjoyed being with each other. It was so strange and wonderful to actually be together in the flesh. The ten days we spent together on holiday are my favorite memories. It was the most fun I've ever had with anyone.
I was about ten, and my grandmother was being forced into long term disability due to her Alzheimer's. My mom, aunt, and uncle were all talking to her, explaining why she couldn't work anymore. I guess being a kid, I had been an afterthought because no one said anything to me one way or another. When they told her she had gotten truly upset saying she had no other reason to live if she couldn't work. It was her sense of self worth, and it was being taken from her. Well, my uncle decided that he had no reason to live if she didn't. He ended up walking into the kitchen and got a steak knife which he laid on the hassock in front of her telling her to kill him if she was going to stop living. The adults all around her in her chair, and me, the ten year old scared out of her mind sitting on the arm of the sofa. At this point my mom finally paid enough attention to realize I was still in the room and was told to go outside. I got up and grabbed my white tennis ball and walked out the room and down the hall, where I started crying, not knowing what to do. I don't know what happened after that. My grandmother and uncle were both what could pass for ok later, but it didn't help the fear from earlier that day.
When you can't hear anyone else, listen to yourself.
My earliest memories come from when I still lived with my Nan in Deptford. I would have been less than 3 years old because we moved to Kent when I was three.
Sitting on the outside toilet and waving to people as a train went past at the end of the garden.
My Uncle Graham carrying me on his shoulders and bumping my head on the light shade.
My mother trying to distract me by pointing out pigeons as we went for one of my regular (and very painful) treatments at the hospital.
My mum leaving me at home to go and wave her brother goodbye at the airport as he emigrated to South Africa.
Memory is such a strange thing, it defines us in so many ways. It's been great reading other people's memories here.
Eight years ago my mother-in-law and I were on one of our regular after-work walks with my two dogs. We were heading down the main street in our town and approaching the police station. A couple was there swapping over custody of their daughter (we later discovered) and began arguing. The dispute grew louder and more aggressive the closer we got, to the point where they each grabbed one of their daughter's arms and started trying to pull her in opposite directions. She was terrified and screaming at the top of her lungs. My mother-in-law and I ran toward the scene and yelled at them both to let go of the girl. The man released her only to grab the mother by her shirt and pull back his fist as if to punch her. He told the two of us to back off, but in a much less polite way. One of my dogs (a boxer) started growling and straining to get at him.
Another woman was driving by and swung her car in to the curb. She sat in the vehicle with her hand on the horn to draw attention to the scene.
This terrifying man was held at bay by three women. Thankfully he didn't end up hitting the mother. The whole altercation only lasted about five minutes, if that, but it felt like forever. A policeman eventually came strolling out of the office and took over. I don't know what he was doing while this was all happening.
Ok so this isnt all that serious but..i still remember the first time i cut a day of highscool it was rediculous..here in new york all school kids are given id's shoing your name and school..blah blah anyway me and some friends decide to leave and go for a train ride ..we rode the train back and forth about 3 times laughing and joking the whole way ..it was awesome [sighs] i love the simple things (:
I have been thinking this week the last time I saw my long distance bloke; I saw him pull up outside the house I moved into this January. The black can pulled up outside my house, the light inside the cab shining on his semi balding head! I saw the bulk of his coat and the way he'd shaved his hair very short. It was very dark by the time he arrived, and I mentioned earlier than the kid's would be in bed and that when he arrived that evening, I told him don't say a word just hug and kiss me!!!
I opened the door to him, my heart being unable to stay inside my chest. I grabbed him inside, hugged and snogged the lips off him. He smelled sweaty and unclean, but that didn't matter.
We sat on my sofa hugging, and all this week I keep seeing in my mind is how brown and hairy his arms where, when they hugged me tight from behind.
I miss him!!!
I don't lust for him, but you know when you meet a man and he gets into your soul, but at the same time I and he know both know that it's not right, yet can't let go coz....... we just can't.
I started to write a christmas memory,
but it was too long for this thread.
So I submitted it as a story,
(so not a poem, but two words do rhyme!)
I remember this day, 15 years ago. It was -25 degrees. My now ex husband drove me to the hospital to deliver our baby girl. He really didn't want to be in the room, being extremely squeamish. He stayed for me. Our lovely girl was born. He looked at me so adoringly and the look on his face as he held her, for the first time, is a picture I can still see in my head. I can't describe it all, but it was one of our best moments.
The question isn't who is going to let me; it's who is going to stop me. ~Ayn Rand, The Fountainhead
Okay, it's not actually a memory, because it just happened. Well, less than twenty-four hours ago, anyway. So I suppose technically, it is a memory, but it's not--
You all be the judge.
As some people know, our German Shepherd got pregnant. Not unexpectedly either, but on purpose. Our neighbor also has a Shepherd, and when we looked at him, and our girl, we just knew that they would make beeeyootiful babies together. We put the two of them together for a few days (at the appropriate time) and sure enough, the magic happened. We waited expectantly as she got bigger and bigger...
Since we knew pretty close what the conception date was, we also knew (pretty close) when she was due. I knew that dogs usually will crawl off into a closet somewhere to have their puppies. They need somewhere warm, close, and dark. They like privacy - it makes them feel safe. I didn't want her to have to find a place, so I built one for her. I took several cardboard boxes and tore them down, using tape to rebuild them into a low-sided box about four feet by five. This new box had a triple-layer floor and double-reinforced walls for structural integrity. I lined the box with a nice, soft quilt, then put her bed in there so she would know that was "her" space. I hung a black sheet over like a tent so she would have privacy when she needed it. I even laid down in there with her, so she knew it was all right to go in. Our vet told us she would show sings just before she went into labor. He told us to look for nesting signs - that she would find her whelping room, and settle down into it, often kicking blankets and floor coverings as if they just weren't comfortable enough. He told us that if we watched her, we couldn't help but see it.
Last night, Mrs. Smartypants and I were lying in bed watching TV. Our dog had made it a habit to lie in bed with us, between us. She'd nudge us with her head to remind us of our duty to scratch her behind her ears. Suddenly, she got up and slowly turned around in bed a couple times. As if she couldn't make up her mind whether she wanted to lie facing us, or facing the TV. Mrs. Smartypants looked over and said, "Hey - there's a big wet spot over here!"
We both looked at our girl, and sure enough, there was a brand-spanking new puppy struggling to get it's first breath! I can't tell you what I felt when I understood that the one place our girl felt safe enough to have her babies in was right between the Mrs. and I. It truly was a life-affirming moment. She trusted us that much! All the websites will tell you that it can be as much as an hour between pups. Well, it was an hour between the first one and the second one. After that, they came out every twenty minutes or so. She just barely had enough time to clean off this one, and get him breathing and mewling properly when we could see the contractions start for the next one. And the process just kept repeating itself. I wondered (not for the first time) just how many pups she had inside her! I thought she was done at six - there was a lull. Then it was seven, then eight. And then I thought she was done.
About a half-hour past midnight, she started having contractions again. Then they finished, but nothing had come out. She started making a low whimpering noise. She was pulling at something, but... nothing was coming out. Wondering, I took a closer look. There was her last one. His head was out, and she had cleaned the membrane off it, but he was stuck. He was breathing in a labored way - she had tightened up around his neck. The poor girl was just too tired to push him out. I ran for some latex gloves. I pushed on her belly, then around the opening. I urged her on, telling her to keep trying. I had nothing but his head to pull on, and I surely didn't want to damage it, or his spine by pulling, so I was trying my best to push with her, to push him out. I don't know how long it took, but I soon saw his tiny paws. I kept working at him and then I had enough to wiggle him a little. I wiggled and wiggled, and then his shoulders were out! And then... whoosh! He came out all the way. I let out a breath I had been holding in for I don't know how long. She took over for me, cleaning him off gratefully. Nine. Nine puppies last night. And I'm sure I'll remember that last little guy for the rest of my life.