A Little Angry

My first husband’s mother (Barb) and I have always had a somewhat contentious relationship. I was 17, in high school, and she would hound me about getting pregnant because she wanted grandkids. Then when she got her wish, it didn’t seem to matter what I (or their doctor) had to say about it, she know what was best. Just as an example, my son was only 2 or 3 weeks old, and she was feeding him kool-aid!

Anyway, I know I have posted about how my Dad and my oldest child passed away this summer, two weeks apart. I have been devastated for sure.

Well, Barb took a tiny amount of Shane’s ashes and had paperweights made for his father and I.

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It is beautiful and I am very touched, and happy to have a piece of Shane nearby all day. I am also pretty angry! We scattered his ashes in the forest! We left him where he could be free, where he could fly on the breeze, and enjoy the grass! He was where the arthritis (all 3 kinds) wouldn’t bother him anymore! He was in a place that didn’t hurt, a place that didn’t hold him down, a place of uninhibited fun! What right did that woman have to trap him in a pretty glass ball!?

I am at the pissed off stage of grief I think. I am angry that I can’t call my Dad for advice. I am angry that my brothers and I have to clean out his house, and decide what to do with it. Do we sell it? do we keep it? do we rent it out? let his girlfriend keep living there and do nothing?

I am angry that I have 2 kids and a paperweight! I should have 3 kids! I am angry that my youngest feels like he needs to name his unborn second son after his brother! I am angry that I can’t be happier about another grandchild because this will be the first birth after my Dad passed. This will be the first great-grandchild he will never get to meet. This will be the first nephew Shane will never meet.  Shane Robert is my son, Robert Louis is my Dad, Oliver Robert is the name they picked for new baby due at the end of May.

I am absolutely heartbroken, pissed off, overwhelmed, so many conflicting emotions! What am I supposed to do with all this? I am sorry to vent on y’all like this, but it has to go somewhere and my husband is grieving just as much as I am. We could easily end up in a big fight for no real reason and I don’t want that.

I hope your day is a good one, and remember to tell your loved ones how much they matter. They can disappear all to quickly!




I am having a bit of a rough time. My Dad and my son’s birthdays are coming up in about 2 weeks. Dad’s is September 29, and Shane’s is just a few days later on October 3.

I should be shopping for gifts and cards. I should be worrying about getting everything shipped in time.  Instead I sit here in my living room wondering how I am going to talk myself out of bed tomorrow. Today, I needed a bathroom, otherwise I am not sure I would have left the bed at all. I am having a really hard time motivating myself lately. I am about 2/3 done with a cross stitch quilt for my grandson, the last one to finish and all 4 grandbabies will have one under the Christmas tree. I have a bunch of food to get canned and frozen for winter from my garden, my floors need mopped, the dishes need done, and all I can do is sit here wishing I could turn back time a couple of months and spend a day with Shane and my Dad.

I remember the last day I spent with Shane. I was actually in town for my Dad’s funeral and preparing his estate. My husband and I spent the day, about a week before he died with Shane and his kids at the city park. His brother Vince came down for a while and played with us too. Shane’s kids were all over the place, and really liked having their Dad push them on the swings, or catch them at the slide. I could see Shane was in quite a bit of pain from his arthritis, but every time one of his kids asked him to come play with them, he was there. He could barely walk from the pain in his feet, but still took both kids to the potty on the other side of the park several times. Shane’s hands were all crippled up, but he still helped push his daughter’s baby doll in the swing next to her while still pushing her and her brother.  We stayed at the park playing for so long, even the little ones were asking to leave.

Later that day, Shane, both his kids, my daughter Kiersten, her son, and my son Vince along with his son, my son-in-law Derrick, and my daughter-in-law Kendra all went with my husband and I to a local pizza buffet restaurant for dinner.  We were a bit loud, and rowdy. We probably irritated every other customer in the restaurant, but we had a good time.

Living so far away, I relied on phone calls with my Dad. I have tried to call my Dad several times since he passed. Dad always answered the phone. Even when I just had a simple question, we ended up bullshitting for a couple of hours every time I called. I would call to ask how long to water bath can a jar of jelly, and we would end up still talking 3 hours later. I miss those marathon conversations with him. I always knew no matter what, he was there.

I want them back. Maybe that is a bit selfish, I don’t know. Both Dad and Shane had some health problems, and spent quite a bit of time in pain. I just want them back. I want my grandkids to grow up with their Daddy. I want them to know their Great Grandpa. I wasn’t ready for them to be gone. Not yet, they were too young to die. There is more for them to do! I just want to wake up tomorrow and have it all been a bad dream!

Keeping Busy

So, tomorrow is exactly two months since my son passed away (July 3), and two and half months since I lost my Dad (June 16).

I am doing the best I can but some days are better than others. Keeping busy is helping a bit. I am cross stitching crib size quilts for my grandkids, talking to two different contractors, cleaning the house, working in my garden, and basically anything else my body will let me do in an effort to keep my mind occupied.

I am  thinking about a new tattoo to honor my Dad and Son. Dad was never without his cowboy hat, and Shane was a HUGE fan of Ozzy Osbourne, so I was thinking of a tattoo of Ozzy’s name with a cowboy hat hanging off the Y at the end. Maybe a red rose and a violet laying underneath. Red rose for Shane, and a violet for Dad.  I don’t know, it’s kind of hard to think about, let alone try to make a decision. I don’t want to admit or accept they are gone

We are remodeling the bathroom, and getting new siding and trim for the house.  I can post pictures later if y’all want. I just realized I chose a grey and white theme for both projects, LOL. The bathroom will be mostly white with a bit of grey, and the siding will be Dover Grey with white trim.

I am also working on an Eric/Sookie fan fiction. I am mostly through the outline/notes and am at 20 pages right now. I may end up asking for help with this one. It is certainly bigger than anything I have tackled before. I currently only have a single one shot published and I won’t publish a new story until it is complete and I am mostly happy with it, so it may be a while.

As always, take care of yourself, and if you have any questions, or want to talk about something feel free to ask.




Two weeks ago, my world fell apart when my Dad passed away.

Today, the 4th of July, a day of celebration for my country, I lost my son. He did not survive a car accident early this morning.

How much more am I supposed to take?

Well, The year from…

Hell continues.

The last couple of months have really sucked! I was diagnosed with thyroid cancer, shortly after that my husband had a heart attack, and two days before Father’s Day here in the States, my Dad died.

I was fortunate with the cancer I developed. We found it REALLY early, and it is one of the easiest to treat. Let me explain.

My doctor decided to remove my thyroid because I am one of the special people who tested positive for both Graves’ Disease (hyperthyroidism) AND Hashimoto’s Disease (hypothyroidism). I didn’t think it was even possible to have both. Both are auto immune diseases, and were causing havoc in my body. To top it off, I had 2 lumps the biopsy showed as benign. After the surgery to completely remove my thyroid, the pathology found the cancer.

My doctor said, “If you have to have cancer, you have the good one.” I had 2 weeks of a low iodine diet (that part stunk!) followed by a radioactive iodine treatment. That was it. It happens to be super easy to cure. From here on out, we simply need to monitor me just in case it pops back up somewhere else since it had migrated into my lymph nodes.

About 3 weeks after my surgery, my husband stressed himself into a heart attack. He ended up off work for about 6 weeks, and is still fighting with the insurance company to get approved for the short-term disability.

So he finally gets back to work, and is there long enough to get ONE paycheck. It was looking like things may just start going back to normal and we would get caught up on the bills when my older brother calls to tell me Dad had died.

Which prompted an emergency road trip. He lived 1000 miles away from me. I live in New Mexico, USA. He lived in South Dakota.  (It’s really hard to refer to him in past tense.) While we were in SD, my younger brother caused a few problems for me and my older brother regarding the will, BEFORE we even had his funeral! We did get that worked out eventually, but GEEZ! What an ASS!

We just got home from that trip yesterday, and I am sitting here at home trying to process the fact that the foundation for everything positive I have ever had, is gone. Dad was the rock for me. My mom is still around, but she is not my favorite person.

Mom actively abused my older brother until he turned 12, when she dumped him off at Dad’s house with his clothes. In the middle of winter. Without even sticking around to see if he could get in the house. She seemed to truly hate Wes.

Me, she just ignored. Ken, my younger brother abused me. In every way possible. He even gave me sexually to his friends, because they were in High School and STILL virgins. When I tried to tell Mom about it, she called me a liar, and told me not to leave my bedroom until I was 40. Her response was along the lines of “How dare I accuse my brother of something soo heinous! He would never do that! What is wrong with you (me)?”

Dad did everything he could for me and Wes. He didn’t know just how bad it was for me at Mom’s. Like most abuse victims, I hid it. For a long time, I thought I deserved to be a walking, talking punching bag. Dad never let Ken get away with anything at his house though. He always, if unknowingly, protected me from Ken. I was safe there.

Dad didn’t always like my choices after I got away from Mom’s house, but he always supported me and my right to make them. I don’t know what I am going to do with out him. Who will give me advise? Or tell me how to cook a new recipe? Or teach me basic car repairs? Or help my friends who have lost their own Dads?

I’m not ready for him to be gone! Not yet!

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I Love You, Dad!



I have been absent for a bit, I know but I wanted to share my good news!

I AM CANCER FREE! I just got word a few minutes ago!

I think this must have been the easiest and quickest cancer battle ever, but still pretty excited to hear I beat it!  It only took one radioactive iodine treatment and two weeks of isolation to beat the thyroid cancer. I even tolerated the treatment very well. I was a little nauseous the first couple hours but that’s it.

This last month…

has been seriously…ummmm….interesting, I guess is a good word for it.   Busy certainly fits, painful, exciting, fun, loud….I could continue, but instead will just let you know what all happened.

First, I am back in both Physical and Occupational Therapy.  I used to have a splint for my right hand for overnight, and a brace called an Ankle Foot Orthotic (AFO) for my right foot.  Both of them died recently, which is one reason my doctors put me back in PT and OT. The other reason is that physically, I was backsliding. Things I could do before were getting harder or became impossible.

The first thing my therapists did was to order a new splint and AFO for me. I should have them in a couple days thank goodness! Without the splint my right hand will ball up into a fist and refuse to move at all. Using the splint overnight, I have some days where I have almost normal use of my right hand. Which is super handy considering I am right handed, lol.

So, now I have my twice a week torture sessions again, and in the middle of all that it was time for my annual vacation. I’m pretty sure I have mentioned it somewhere, but just in case, my hometown is Sturgis, SD. Home of the world’s Largest Motorcycle Rally. All of my family still lives there (including my in-laws) so every year we head that way for Rally and to visit everyone. I hate that I only see my grandkids once a year, but being so far away there is not much I can do about that. 😦

In a bit of a coincidence, my OT was going to Rally as well this year which worked out perfectly for me! See my husband’s birthday is rally week and I always let him pick a band (tons of concerts to be found that week!) and I make all the arrangements including tickets and a designated driver for us as his birthday present. My OT was our DD this year to Five Finger Death Punch! He even managed to get us front row with my wheelchair!  It was an amazing show! Since my eyesight and mobility is so rough I appreciated being so close to the stage, and everyone around us (most of them complete strangers) made sure to keep an eye on me so I wasn’t jostled to much.  One gentleman directly behind us parked his bike sideways behind my wheelchair, sent his buddy after a tarp and attached one end to his bike and the other end over my head to the fence when rain threatened! I never did learn his name, but he was a great help with the others in the crowd that maybe didn’t see me.

After we got back from vacation I began the process of some much needed dental work. I had one tooth pulled right before we left because of an abscess, but need more work. It has been determined that I need dentures. Nearly 30 years of being a heavy smoker has really done a number on both my teeth and my jawbone. I have 6 teeth on the bottom that we are going to TRY to save, even if I only get a few more years out of them, it’s better than nothing. So a few days ago I had 5 molars pulled to begin the process. I will end up with a complete upper plate and partial lower plate.

My husband is a saint, and has been trying very hard to take care of me since the teeth came out. turns out I am still a terrible patient. Some things we are just used to me not being able to do, some things we are used to me doing with help. I have been so tired, swollen, and sore in the face that I can barely open my mouth let alone do anything else. He has been trying very hard to make sure there is things I can eat readily available, and that I am getting enough. He is always asking if I need anything, or can he do anything to help? Needless to say, I always have fresh ice water, and an ice pack handy at all times. I still suck at asking for help, even after all these years of being disabled, but I do appreciate everything he does! I can’t say I am looking forward to having more teeth pulled, but  I guess I am looking forward to having it finished lol.

Just as a side note…vomiting a few hours after having teeth pulled is NOT recommended. That shit HURT!

Hope all is well n your world!