A Burial with Full Military Honors Was An Absolutely Beautiful Way To Say Goodbye

But the highlight of my father-in-law's burial was the miracle of Jamie.

Our nephew Jamie has autism.
He has an incredible memory.
He remembers faces, names, streets and maps.
He can tell you when a Disney movie was released. When he was three he could identify every car he saw.
Well now Jamie is twelve years old.
His autism is noticeable because he has certain impulses that can attract attention.
He utters words like "cutie" or "stupid" or a hybrid of both when he meets people.
Then he bursts out in laughter.
Sometimes he has the urge to topple over chairs, or fling things.
Because of his condition, he was the only grandson that was unable to be a pall bearer.


I think he gets an idea in his head of how something should look.
So, he closes things that are ajar or opens things that are shut.
Needless to say, I was nervous about how Jamie would react when he saw his grandfather laid out in a casket.

Jamie's parents are very admirable.
They calmly manage their son with consistency, patience, and good old screen time. (Jamie loves his Ipad)
It is clear that they prepared their son extremely well for what to expect because Jamie (and his two younger siblings) were composed throughout both days of the viewing.

The funeral mass though, I thought would pose a different challenge.
Due to the assigned order of processing into church, Jamie  became separated from both his mom and his dad.
He somehow ended up in a pew in between Gabi and me.
When I saw what had happened, I felt an internal panic.
I did not know how to "manage" him.
I feared a scene or an outburst of some sort.
I think I uttered a "Oh Lord" under my breath--but I don't think I was praying.

The mass was beautifully concelebrated by two priests that knew my father-in-law.
I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Jamie was sitting without fidgeting.
I thought, it was odd and so I wondered if he had his Ipad.  I saw that he was empty handed.
I quickly looked away for fear of jinxing the serenity.
I closed my eyes and this time said a prayer of thanks and urged God to keep doing whatever it was He was doing.
The liturgical service was not short, yet through it all, Jamie remained still and appropriately responsive.
In all my years of knowing Jamie, I had never heard him respond properly nor sit quietly for church.
At the end of the mass, everyone processed out in the same order,  and I was expecting Jamie to break lose to try to join either his mom or dad.
He did not.
He walked out solemnly in between Gabi and me with his arms linked through ours,  escorting us.

At the grave site, the Honor guard was waiting motionless.
With very sharp, crisp and precise movements,
they carried my father-in-law's casket draped in the flag of the United States.
They performed a march and a salute.
I was absolutely mesmerized by the flag folding.
It was a sight to behold.
The playing of Taps and the three volley salute took the sting out of having to say good bye to a great man.
The folded flag and three shell casings, for Duty, Honor and Country--were presented to my mother-in-law with a steadfast and unflinching gaze.
You had to be there.
It was one of the most solemn and beautiful ceremonies I have ever witnessed in my life.
And, through it all--yes even with the succession of shots fired--Jamie too, remained steadfast and unflinching.
A burial with full military honors is  a perfect send off.
And so is Jamie.
Despite how "wild" and locked into his own world Jamie usually is, (and was right after we left the cemetery)  I can see how he is thriving because of his parents' love.

There are two things that I am sure happened during my father-in-law's funeral last March 13th.
The first is, I know without a doubt that a Jamie miracle happened, and the second is,
I know that he made his Papa proud.

My Father-in-law loved this bracelet that Gabi made for him. He kept saying he will need a new one soon when this one fell off. In the end, he took this one with him.

Seven Years Ago Today

We are all going to die.
(This is my new mantra.)
Ever since
Our friends' 18 year old son died in an accident
last Easter Sunday, I've become more accepting of this thought.

The Prince and the Pauper.
The same day that the singer Prince died, an uncle of mine died in the Philippines.
My uncle was 80 years old.
My sister told me that
right after he died, he was cremated immediately.
Literally taken from his bed to the crematorium.
No nonsense.
Just the bare bones necessity for a man who was waiting for his certainty.

Death has no rules.
No method.
While most of the time there might be a progression to this event--the "when" is never a given.
Neither faith, health, money, fame, nor irresponsibility guarantees our path nor longevity.

Don't dread don't dwell.
Let Go, Let God.
Surrender.
These are the mantras I test drive on this trip.

Last night
I told Steve that in the event that I kick the bucket unexpectedly,
he is to tell people of my mantra:
"We are all going to die someday. 
I am prepared to meet my Maker."
Without taking his eyes from the TV screen
his response was,
"Well, I hope that all works out for you."

Seven years ago my dad died.
I used to think that it was just yesterday
That I could hear him say:
"Less talk, less mistake. No talk, no mistake."
but now it seems like such a lifetime ago.
I wonder why that is.

MW

I am still processing this.

My Auntie Linda (sister of my dad) Died Today

Claudine

Late last June I got a Facebook friend request from Claudine, a friend from college whom I had not seen in over twenty years. We were actually friends-in-law--I knew her through Augie, a close friend of mine.

Me, Augie and Claudine, Los Angeles, Ca. 1993.

I accepted the friend request but was unable to exchange messages with her right away.
It was the end of July before I remembered to write to her before leaving for our family vacation.
(On my list of things to do before leaving: stop the mail, contact the dog sitter, clean the bathrooms, write to Claudine)
When she responded, she told me that she was having health problems.
Serious ones.  The type with the stages.
By the time our correspondence continued,  I was already in Florida-- but because of the nature of her personal news,  I did not mention that I was on vacation.
I think I withheld that information because it felt out of place in a conversation about chemotherapy.
Claudine mentioned that Augie was going to visit her from Texas in a few days.
I was happy for her. I even requested that they take pictures of Augie's visit.
Before I signed off, I told her that I was going to pray for her. And I did.
That evening, I told Steve about my friend's condition and he confirmed that it was grave.
~~~~~
While I was in Florida, I made a conscious decision not to post pictures online.
I was trying to be present, and in the moment--instead of focusing on the perfectly staged shot to share with friends.  I stuck to this decision until six days into the trip I felt the urge to post this photo of Steve on Facebook.  (Something about the beauty of the double rainbows and the symbol of God’s promise)

The picture posted together with our location: TopGolf, Tampa Florida.
Suddenly I received a message from Claudine:
“Are you in Tampa?” she inquired.
I said, "yes, I've been here since Saturday. Tomorrow is our last full day here. We leave Saturday morning. Why?"
She said, "Augie is here with me, and she said that you posted a picture saying that you are here too."
I was so confused.
All this while I thought that Claudine still lived in Los Angeles.
I had no idea that while we were chatting earlier in the week--that we were already in the same city.  Claudine was excited that I was in town, but because she had chemotherapy scheduled for the next morning, she wanted Augie to be able to see me. She offered that Augie drive her car while she was at her session.
I told her that I would go to see them, because I wanted to see her.

It was past midnight on Thursday, but right away I asked Steve if he could drive me first thing in the morning about 45 minutes away.  I wanted to get there before Claudine left for the hospital.
I asked Steve because I don’t drive well in unfamiliar cities or at all.
Steve agreed to take me, (which in itself is a miracle as Steve is not a morning person)
~~~~~
The next morning, although we hit traffic and sudden torrential rain, we got to Claudine’s house on time.  The moment I stepped in,  for some reason, Claudine, Augie and I started laughing about one
thing after another.  Our time together was brief but filled with so much joy.

me, Claudine, her sister Melina, Augie: Tampa, Florida 7/31/2015

Perhaps our giddiness was brought on by the serendipitous nature of finding ourselves all together in one place.  (I had not seen Augie in eight years, and Claud’s sister Melina who now lives in Tacoma,  I don’t think I’ve seen since our college days)
We chatted, laughed and teased each other non-stop until Claudine excused herself to get ready for her appointment.
While Claudine was in the shower, out-of-the-blue Augie suddenly asked me,
“What made you come?”
I asked, "you mean here for vacation?”
She said--“no, here,  this morning.”
I looked at her and said: “I wanted to pray for her.”
Augie’s already large eyes got even larger as she said, "Chesca. This is why I decided to come too.”
"I wanted to pray with her because  “When two or more are gathered...” Augie started to say...
I interrupted her:
“...There I am in their midst.”  (-Matt 18:20)
~~~~~
I don’t know how to put into words the experience of praying with Claudine and Augie that morning, amidst the mist and steam of Claudine’s after-shower bathroom.
(It was the only private place we had as Steve, Claudine’s family and guests were in the living room)
The three of us held each other praying for healing, with uncontrollable tears streaming down our faces.
By the time we were done praying--there was a serenely peaceful look on Claudine’s face that I shall
never forget.

7/31/2015

~~~~~
Last week,  I made the 300 mile drive to visit my mother for her birthday.
Right before I pulled out of my driveway, I got a message from Augie telling me that Claudine needed prayers.
I spent the next 5 hours of my drive, praying for Claudine.
I was unsure of exactly what to pray for.
I prayed for miraculous healing, but I also prayed for God’s Will for her and that if she was to go, that she transitioned peacefully without suffering.
I wish that this is the part where I report a miracle, that Claudine defied all medical prognosis and is well today.
But that is not the case.
A few hours later, as I was in the middle of planting a huge flowering Chrysanthemum plant for my mom in honor of her 85th birthday, I got the message from Augie telling me that Claudine had passed away.
She was 45 years old.
~~~~~
I’ve been pondering, processing and trying to figure out what that whole experience was all about.
What I do know is that, although I was not close to Claudine, being drawn to contact her and see her 41 days before her death has left me with an unmistakeable gift that I hope I never forget.
The peace, joy and confidence I saw in her eyes gave me so much comfort.
It somehow reminded me that a lot of what makes me crazy on a daily basis, does not really matter.
While this may sound like I am giving up on life, on the contrary, I feel compelled to keep doing my best but to do so while surrendering the outcome.
I hope that I become as calm as her when I near the end of my life...or at the very least in my life today as I live through the experience of parenting teenagers.
Seeing Claudine smile ever so sweetly as she was dealing with her terminal illness has pushed me to assess my approach to each day.
I am grateful that my Claudine Experience is encouraging me to:
1. Give up worry.
2. Forgive
3. Do my best in all I do, but let go of all expectations.
4. Stop wrestling with life.
5. Live fearlessly and with great faith in God.
6. Have only good intentions in all I do
7. Let go of my ego
8. Keep my mind and heart open
9. Love
10. Just do it.

(For my friend Claudine:  1/19/1970-9/10/2015)

The Self-help Guru Wayne Dyer Reminded Me Of My Dad

They were both born on May 10th but my dad was 10 years older.

For such a devout Catholic, my dad seemed to have an unusual amount of books that dealt with self-help and cosmic juju.
My dad was into yoga before it was cool.

He taught us all how to stand on our heads--yes even my sister Karen, with the soft un-fused fontanel head--learned this at a young age.
And speaking of young age, I read a lot of my dad's books on transactional analysis, meditation and intuition before my 12th birthday. Not that I understood a thing.
Anyway, one of the books I read as a child was a book called, Your Erroneous Zones, by
Wayne Dyer.
(No, this was not a book on sex--but rather a book on changing one's negative thinking).

I few years ago, I rediscovered Wayne Dyer and hoped to even attend one his lectures one day however last week, Wayne Dyer died.
So I guess attending a lecture by him is not meant to be.
Sigh.
A quote of his I liked was:

“My belief is that the truth is a truth until you organize it, and then becomes a lie. I don’t think that Jesus was teaching Christianity, Jesus was teaching kindness, love, concern, and peace. What I tell people is don’t be Christian, be Christ-like. Don’t be Buddhist, be Buddha-like.”
~Wayne Dyer

While I am in fact a Christian (and a Catholic) I am not blind and do not think that mere identifying with a group leads to everlasting peace.  As I attempt to be Christ-like in my life today, I also try not to judge what other believe in. (well except when it comes to my family. I am still trying to coerce them)

Other Wayne Dyer quotes that I like:

"If you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change."

“How people treat you is their karma; how you react is yours.”

"When you judge another, you do not define them, you define yourself.”

“Conflict can not survive without your participation.”

“You can not be lonely if you like the person you’re alone with.”

With everything that has happened to you, you can either feel sorry for yourself or treat what has happened as a gift. Everything is either an opportunity to grow or an obstacle to keep you from growing. You get to choose.”

“All blame is a waste of time. No matter how much fault you find with another, and regardless of how much you blame him, it will not change you.  The only thing blame does is to keep the focus off you when you are looking for external reasons to explain your unhappiness or frustration.  You may succeed in making another feel guilty about something by blaming him, but you won’t succeed in changing whatever it is about you that is making you unhappy.”

“Your children will see what you’re all about by what you live rather than what you say.”

“It makes no sense to worry about things that you have no control over because there’s nothing you can do about them, and why worry about things you do control? The activity of worrying keeps you immobilized.”

“Begin to see yourself as a soul with a body rather than a body with a soul.”

-Wayne Dyer May 10, 1940-August 30, 2015

Six Years Today

Life and Death

Last Wednesday, Steve's uncle was rushed from his home 75 miles away to the hospital beside our house.
He was very sick.
Uncle Ted, is was the husband of my father-in-law's sister.
Steve had a good relationship with him, because they had hunted together for years.

The moment we got to the hospital, I was surprised to see that Uncle Ted was communicative and alert.

I knew he was critically ill, and because I did not want to waste any time,  I quickly reminded Uncle Ted about one of my favorite "hunting" stories that included him.

I was not close to him, but that little bit of time I spent with him, I loved.

On Thursday, Uncle Ted was still able to interact.
He even seemed sad when Steve and K left him that Thursday night.
When Friday came, Uncle Ted took a sudden turn and had to be put on a ventilator.

Of all days, that Friday, Steve was having a very long and difficult day at work at another hospital 25 miles away.

I already mentioned that I did not know Uncle Ted well, yet his illness and rapid decline had me in turmoil.
I found myself testing the waters--as to whether I could really believe what I just read recently, that death is a "transformation to a freer life."

Although I found comfort in discovering that Uncle Ted was a man of great faith, confident to face his Creator, it was still not easy to see how painful this whole experience was for his family.

The sudden downward spiral, drew more family from far away to come and see him.
I insisted that our home be their home base due to its convenient location to the hospital.
I did not really know Uncle Ted's family yet somehow we were suddenly made close by the circumstance of impending death.

Preparing our home and bathrooms for seven guests, turned out to be occupational therapy for me as I   made the executive decision (Steve still unreachable due to work emergency) to allow K to go out and ride in a car with a newish-driver-who-is-a-newish-boyfriend.
I also gave permission for G to go skiing with a friend 60 miles away.
Both K and G stayed alive and well.

Saturday was a day.
Uncle Ted's family included us in a meeting about palliative care, comfort measures and when to remove life support. I had nothing but tears to contribute to the discussion.
When we left them that afternoon, I thought that they were going to wait 24 hours before taking action.
I tried to have a glass of wine at home but could not really swallow it.
I knew that I was trying to numb my heavy heart.
So instead of drinking the wine,  I took a two hour nap.
Sleep always makes everything better.
At 5 PM,  I woke from my nap and went with DZ for a 30 minute run.
Just as I was starting to feel less depressed about the day, I found out that Uncle Ted died at 6 pm.

My house guests came to pack up and collect their belongings.
They were not going to need to stay any longer.
Uncle Ted's son, Doug described the scene to me.

He said his brother-law-law Bob was reading from the book of Psalms, while every one else gathered around Uncle Ted, praying and holding him as he "jouneyed."

The whole process took two hours.

That, to me, is what I consider to be a beautiful liberation into a freer life.

Steve and I went out for dinner with DZ/GZ, where I had not one, not two, but three Mojitos.
In a day cloaked in sadness--it was weird to be enjoying a Tijuana hotdog in a bar, while the last thing on the mind of Uncle Ted's wife of 60 years was food.
I felt very compartmentalized.
Life and death kept separate:
Supporting a bereaved family, while still making parenting decisions...
(Can G's friends sleep over? Yes)
Experiencing grief in real time,  touched raw nerves from my own past experiences with the death of loved ones.
Yet this experience truly brought me much more closer to understanding the importance of freeing a soul to soar, unfettered by medical technology or our human desires.

Today is Monday. We will drive to attend the viewing 75 miles away.

At 7:30 this morning I got a flat tire on my way to drop K off at school.
I pulled over to the side of the road, and K proceeded to walk the rest of the way, while I walked to make a roadside assistance call from home.
I did not have my cell phone with me.
As I was walking home I remembered to say a prayer of thanks for all the blessings the flat tire had reminded me of.
1. I was happy that I threw pants on today, as sometimes I drive K to school with just a big coat and my sleeping shirt.
2. I am glad the flat did not occur in the middle of nowhere on the way to the viewing this evening.

My mind focused on not getting derailed by a flat tire.
I recognized that this was nothing in the big scheme of things.
Steve's relatives are right now dealing with their  loss, and the logistics of today and
his funeral tomorrow.
I got back to my house this morning in time to make sure that G got on the school bus and proceeded with my hour of prayer.
I asked very simply for assistance with the car--and that God would order my steps for today.

My car is back in my driveway. I am grateful.
By 9:35 AM I was back on track.

Uncle Ted's birthday is on Wednesday.
He would have been 82.
While I know that his family is grieving his death, I can't help but believe with all my heart that his 82nd birthday is actually going to be the best one yet.
He is right on track.
After all,  there is no place like home.

(And now I shall exercise with JB)

First Post Of 2015

I did not know that I enjoy biscotti.

But apparently I do. 

I am not worried since I have been exercising everyday since the new year began.

Everyday.

My friend SL informed me that everything we do on the first of the year must be something we want to be able to do through out the rest of the year.

So on January 1st, I made the effort to stay away from my biscotti stash.

Also I set goals for myself and exercising everyday was one of them.

I don't mean a full blown daily work out. 

Some days it's a 30 to 45 minute run or a 20 minute walk or just 10 crunches. 

Everything counts when it comes to making exercising a habit. 

I have discovered that I need exercise in order to stay upright.

I have been meditating and praying every single day.

I've also been clearing my home of unnecessary belongings.

My goal is to donate items every single week.

The moment I pick out a donation item, I move it to my porch to await pick up by the Veterans.

I am trying to shed my practical nature of saving something I might potentially want in the future.

I am trying to live in the present moment.

The act of sorting through and letting go of material possessions is very therapeutic by the way.

For each bag or box I am able to give away, there seems to be a release of emotional baggage as well.

~~~~~

In less than a month Steve is turning 50.
The process of trying to clear out my home has, alas, turned it upside down and inside out.
The expression, sometimes you have to break something in order to fix it is quite true.
Unfortunately, Steve's milestone is not going to wait for me to finish my house overhaul, and so amidst all this, I am planning a party for him.
The problem is, I have not thrown a party in years. I am rusty.
I am focusing on not giving in to feelings of overwhelm.
I know that if I were to act remotely taxed or stressed, then that would not feel good for Steve.
So I just keep daily small goals:
-Dechristmasing the house completely (yesterday, I put away the decorations at the property and this morning, I took down the last of the outside lights and garlands of our home here).
-Researching food and drink options.
-Texting invites, etc.
-Clearing out stuff, including polishing off the last of the biscotti.

~~~~~
We made an unplanned visit to our property yesterday.
Just a day trip.
The girls were interested in searching for a frozen pond to skate on, while Steve wanted all of us to hike through the snow in search of a dead bear we had heard about.
I had been feeling slightly off recently and in an effort to do something
"as a family," we decided to jump into the car and go.
We found both, a patch of frozen in the woods that the girls skated on, and the dead bear.
Natural ice rink, lovely.
Dead bear, not too lovely.

~~~~~
A few days ago, I found out that the little girl I had been praying for since last month, died in her mother's arms.
I was heartbroken.
So in an effort to stay mentally healthy, I decided to just keep on cleaning out my house.
When prayer or exercise is not enough, occupational therapy is good.

While sorting through the bowels of this house I bumped into old photos, which gave me the idea to start a 50th birthday picture collage.
It was while I was looking through Steve's old photos that I found this:

A picture of him as a four year old boy standing to the right of that red feather Christmas tree.

There was something about the death of the little girl and finding this particular photo of Steve that switched something in me.
First, I realize how precious life is and that is a gift to be able to celebrate 50 years (especially for Steve, who as a young boy was not given a good prognosis due to kidney disease)
And then second, yesterday, when I was putting away the Christmas decorations at the hunting place, I found myself not just tolerating the red feather Christmas tree, but loving it.
Loving it.
Somehow, seeing this red tree survive life reassures me that some things are just meant to be.

Robin Williams' Death

I was jolted by the death of Robin Williams.
A depressed comedian.
A sad entertainer.
A creative person uninspired to keep on living.
Desperate.
Tired.
Hopeless.
Depression can cause substance abuse and substance abuse can cause depression.
Depression and substance abuse together, can make people do impulsive things to attempt to remove pain.
Although I won't claim to know exactly how this feels,
I get it.

I feel for him and for his family.

For Nine Months We Kept It Alive

G fished a tadpole out of a pond at the property 90 miles away.
We took it home and cared for it for nine months.
Despite the fact that I do not like frogs or toads,
I kept checking on it.

I watched it grow bigger because I was intrigued
(and worried).
Just the other day we were discussing
this tadpole and I wondered why it was taking so long
for it to metamorphose into its next stage.

Not that I was looking forward to it.
I worried that I would wake up with a large toad sitting on my face.
Such a, what's the word...to want something yet dread it at the same time?
I am deathly afraid of frogs or toads.

I guess I had nothing to fear as G's tadpole died yesterday.
I was very sad that G's tadpole died.
Which was weird since I am deathly afraid of frogs and toads.
K and I had a little burial ceremony for it.
G could not attend because she left for a few days of volleyball camp.

Thesaurus says the word is: Incongruous, Paradoxical. Perplexing, Confusing.

I Could Use Some Hot Soup Right Now.

I just finished reading a book that I borrowed from DZ called, Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller.
The cover states that it is a book about nonreligious thoughts about Christian spirituality.
I liked it.
I liked how reading it felt like I was having an interesting conversation with an unfamiliar visitor.
I realize I enjoyed this particular visit because I did not have to change out of my sleeping clothes.
I could tune in and tune out of the conversation without appearing rude and most of all, I did not have to put on my "open face" (the face I wear when I interact with people).
I cracked up today when I read the author describe himself as a cordless screwdriver that needed many hours of charging for just a little bit of use.
Just yesterday I had answered my friend JB's text with a quick: I am recharging.
And today, when my other angel SL would not stop texting me until I responded with a grunt (her words)
I texted her the cordless screwdriver line that I had just read. (I did not credit it to Miller though)

I AM recharging.

Despite the very minimal traveling and holiday socializing we did (mostly dabbled really)
I was SPENT.

Don't get me wrong, I was happy to celebrate the holidays.
I was glad that I did not really have to put on my "open face" unwillingly.
The holidays just emptied me out.
And the routine necessary for me to be upright was not too easy to keep.
But I am getting back on track, starting with a workout tomorrow with CK.

Speaking of visitors filed under the  "I needed my 'open face' for"---
The other day, Fr. James B. Reuter, the priest that officiated in the weddings of my parents, two of my sisters and one brother--I think he also baptized all of us--died.
He was 96 years old.
When the Silvas were still all together, we would have these once-a-year dinners with him.
It was the only time that we ever sat at our formal dining table since we normally gathered in the kitchen.
My only memories of this beautiful table were of the dinners with Fr. Reuter and of my evenings spent sitting at it, struggling with math homework.











Coincidentally, a day before Fr. Reuter died, this very table that reminded me of him was sold.
It was sold because the house I grew up in is also in the process of being sold.
It is a challenging time and process and it marks yet another chapter of the Silva family's life that is either closing, opening or both.
(methinks this may be contributing to my feelings of depletion)
Anyhow, as I trolled the internet reading up on the various thoughts and memories people had posted about Fr. Reuter's life and death-
I stumbled upon a completely unrelated young Jesuit priest's essay about life and our purpose.

A line struck me. Got me out bed actually.

God entrusts us with the lives of others even when many times we cannot even manage our own.
-Francisco Alvarez, SJ

How powerful and what a reminder for me to just keep on trucking.
I am going through something right now but it is nothing that I can't handle with faith.
(not the country singer).
And I have tools!

After I post this, I shall prepare a large, hot steaming bowl of wanton shrimp noodle soup.
One must be properly nourished to live a purposeful life after all.
And then I shall bathe my dog.
Happy New Year.

At 4:30 AM This Morning

I had discovered that a friend had died suddenly of an aneurysm.
I had just recently interacted with him--because I had thanked him for singing at the fundraising concert for my niece's baby.
The last time I saw Eric was during my last trip to Manila in 2007. (here he is, standing between Steve and me)

This is a video of Eric singing a song I always bugged him to sing every time I saw him.
(Literally, during trips to Manila I would make him serenade my kids, sing in my sister's kitchen, even just the refrain of it-- if we just bumped into each other in passing...
The song is called "I'll Never Say Goodbye.")

I am so sad for his wife and two sons.

I am reminded that because Life is too short, we must:

Say I love you to people you love (that's a given)

Be loving.
Do things that matter.
Keep things in order.

Gave Up Facebook for Forty Days But Replaced it With Chocolate

I heard this song yesterday on Pandora and it reminded me of our two friends CK and C who are getting married soon.
There are different videos and covers of it.
I immediately sent CK a link to
a version by Kathy Mattea
The version that I like the most is sung by Kate Wolf--but whoever posted it, set it to a clip from  Battlestar Galactica. (!!!) (which would explain why I did not send that one to CK)
Give Yourself To Love by Kate Wolf
The woman in that Battlestar Galactica clip looks like my childhood best friend Elaine Henson.

Today is Elaine's birthday. The peculiar thing is, even if I am mentally over the fact that Elaine is gone, my physical state argues differently.
Every single year that her birthday rolls in,  my body kicks into sad mode.
So today I fight it with chocolate.
Lots of it.
I am winning, although I am smiling with chocolate stuck in between my teeth.
Kate Wolf was a folk singer whose death anniversary is December 10th.
December 10th is also the date that Elaine was removed from life support. I'm thinking that I should play these numbers...

CLICK ON THOSE LINKS!
I literally bumped into this song and loved it.
I hope you do too.

"love is born in fire, it's planted like a seed,
love can't give you everything, but it gives you what you need.
And love comes when you're ready, love comes when you're afraid;
It'll be your greatest teacher, the best friend you have made."
~Kate Wolf

Happy Birthday Elaine, I miss you.

It Is When I am Feeling A Bit Off That I Start Questioning The Existence Of God.

What does that say about me?
It is dreary, wet and cold here today and I find it quite challenging to see how that can be considered a blessing.
When life is going well, I am quite aware and secure in the presence of God but when I am low, I start pondering and doubting.
This story  about an 18 year old's experience with death
made me read THIS today. And then it made me think about
my own nephew's experience with death and it has helped redirect me.
I am going to change this trait of being such a fair-weathered pray-er.
I shall start by praying for fairer weather.

1984

I went far away for my freshman year.
By far I mean, an hour away due to the congested city roads of the very populated Manila.
My initial course of study was Physical Therapy and  the program was offered in the original University of the Philippines campus situated in the heart of Manila nestled between the Supreme Court and the  Department of Justice. My father practiced law not far from there and because of this, it was not uncommon for him to kindly orchestrate his schedule in order to give me a ride to or from school.
On days that he could not give me a ride, I would catch a standing-room-only,  non air-conditioned, wooden windowed type De-Dios bus home. It was not super pleasant.

One afternoon, my dad's schedule unexpectedly opened up. He decided to intercept my passage home and offer me the luxury of a seat in his trusty blue Volkswagen Beetle.  Without the advanced cell phone technology to flag me down, he wandered around the university in search of his free spirited freshman daughter.
He stopped not a few co-eds inquiring, "Do you know Chesca Silva? do you know where I can find her?"
He had a few leads, but was unsuccessful in tracking me down.

When I emerged from my last class of the day, I was steeling myself for the stuffy De-Dios bus ride home when people started stopping me in the hallway to say:
"Chesca, do not take the bus today, your dad will pick you up."
"Are you Chesca Silva? Your dad is going to give you a ride home."
Not one or two people mind you--but a passel of people.
Even my Spanish Professor called out: "Senorrrrrita Silva yourrrrr Papa will fetch you today!"
Don't get me wrong, although I was happy to hear this, I was also morbidly intrigued to know how this information was disseminated.
Finally as I approached the main entrance to the campus I saw it.
My father had appropriated a rather large chalkboard and had written:

CHESCA,
DO NOT RIDE THE BUS TODAY.
I WILL PICK YOU UP.
-DADDY

Resourceful, focused and apparently shameless.
Parents will do what they need to do if they think it will benefit their children.

The Other Friday, I was sitting in the parking lot of Target, just catching a moment

for myself.
Suddenly it started raining. And hailing.
I would have waited for the downpour to end except I remembered that I needed to check the backyard drain to make sure it was not clogged.
I braved the barely visible conditions and made it home in time to clear debris and prevent a possible flooding in our basement.
Unbeknownst to me, at that very moment-- a deadly flooding was happening two miles from my home.
A woman my age and her two daughters, close to the same ages as my two daughters-- were on their way home from lunching with their dad who works at the hospital behind my house. Yes, the same hospital where Steve works.
On their drive home they were caught in a flash flood that killed them.

I felt emotionally crippled when I learned about it.
As I read more about the woman, I found myself gripped with even more debilitating sadness.
That they described the woman as someone that would go sledding with her children, and that they had a trampoline in their backyard told me that they were an active family that quite possibly had known how to swim.
They must have been physically trapped in their car or perhaps panicked beyond inertia.
I shuddered at the thought that perhaps they did not all die at exactly the same moment.
A child seeing their mom drown would be such a horrible last moment but a mother seeing her child die would be, in my mind, a reason to not want to take a next breath.

That Friday afternoon, I decided to leave the covered parking lot of Target in order to clear our drain from muck while another family was going through an unspeakable sorrow.

Muck is nothing.
Perspective is everything.

42

42 was a difficult year.

Oddly, all the loss and trials seemed to leave me feeling stronger, more confident that I can and will make it through whatever life throws at me.

And it made me more clear about what I can take and what I won't take.

It started with something that, in retrospect, seems fairly benign but was a very big deal at the time.

It is a real challenge to deliver one's first seminar to adults. Unbeknownst to me, it's also a very big deal to create such a seminar--my sister Karen, creates and delivers training seminars to adults all the time. She is rather nonchalant about it.

Fortunately, I was not aware of just how difficult when I committed to create and deliver a seminar early this year.

It was a seminar on the importance of relationships and in order to make it through my prep, I put all my relationships on hold. (No, the irony did not escape me.)

And as if the seminar was not enough challenge, the universe conspired to test my resilience by giving me the grave news of my dad's illness shortly before I presented my seminar.

We did not have very long to prepare ourselves for dad's departure, but the little time we had was such a huge gift.

My dad was so tickled to have all 9 children around him and I felt so proud and pleased to be a part of his family.

Even after he passed, I held him, trying to absorb the last of this man who gave me so much of who I am. I love that I got to spend so much time with him in his last days.

What I had not planned on was the dislocation that followed from dad's passing.

Two things happened. Our family changed in ways that surprised me.

I got to spend more time with my siblings than any time since when they would have argued about whose turn it was to wipe my bum...(Okay - so that's an exaggeration, but not by much.) And after the initial rush and excitement, I realized that I simply didn't have room to deal with certain kinds of relationships. Separation was painful but not as draining as continuing to allow relationships that made me feel defensive or unloved. There is nothing like feeling completely drained to make a person evaluate what depletes and what restores. One of the few good things about a year of loss is that a person can only take so much.

Last year, this would have rocked me far more, I am sure.
So many of the relationships that define me have changed and so have I.

Maybe the first part of life is about finding out who you are and the second part of life is accepting who you are not.

After what I've gone through, I know my limits more but I also trust me more and that's a good thing. One thing I have learned is that no matter who comes or goes in my life, I hang out with me all the time. And that's a relationship I'm determined will be a happy one.

For the first time in all my years living here in the States, I did an un-American thing and invited people to my very own birthday party.

It was liberating.

I can honestly say: 43, I am ready for you.

Pictures here.

Seven Months After April 24th.

I am okay.
I have to say, life sans an
anti-depressant certainly makes me FEEL.
It is amazing actually.
It's like I removed the saran wrap from my brain.
Now I understand why people that should be on meds take breaks from it.
I always wondered why the heck people choose to do that.
I mean, do they waaaaaaant to be depressed?
I don't think so.
You know how people on LSD (supposedly) see colors clearly, hear music better, taste things more explosively?
Well I have come to the conclusion that, that is me off prozac.
The only downside is, I am generally so high that on the occasion that I fall,
it hurts.