Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
Showing posts with label death. Show all posts

Friday, December 19, 2008

Blue Christmas


Just a note to update everyone. Won't be here for a while because my Poppa just died...
:((

I am working on a Christmas post with pictures of all our snow and ice, but in case it isn't done before Christmas- Merry Christmas to all of you, my friends! You can read my Christmas story in the December 2007 archives if you want.
I love and value each of you!
Slainte~
Rachelle

Wednesday, December 03, 2008

Farewell my friend...

This is my friend Brenda.
This is her son, the light of my life and my little buddy, Levi. Notice the cheesy smile!
This was the last time I saw him in June, after his momma had been missing for a little over 3 weeks. He is at my house, and this is the only time he let go of me long enough for me to take a picture of him. The rest of the time he held my hand sitting right next to me on the couch as we watched videos and talked, or he sat on my lap. All 13 years of him.

Brenda and Levi came into my life like a hurricane eight years ago when I decided I wanted to go back to work in special education for the first time since the birth of my children. My daughter was in 1st grade then, and I wanted to be at the same school with her and to be able to bring in a little extra money at the same time. I had previously worked in the special education field for 20 years, all the way up to, and a little bit after the birth of my first child- when I decided I wanted to be home with my baby, and that getting my head bashed into the chalkboard was soooo yesterday.

Enter Levi. Levi is autistic, and my specialty in my career choice of special education was autistic children, especially those with aggressive behavior disorders. He fit that bill perfectly.
Tiny but powerful, Levi lived inside his head to the exclusion of all else. Full of anger and frustration that his limited communication skills would not allow him to express fully, he had already been there done that kindergarten thing, but it was decided it would be tried again here on the mountain and with a 1:1 aide. That turned out to be me.
Little did I know that my life would forever be changed by Levi and his mother.

The first time I met Brenda I recognized her as an alcoholic. I was able to see her with different eyes than most everyone else, as I am also an alcoholic- sober 18 years this past April. Most people just saw a drunk, I saw a woman who fought many demons daily. I saw a woman of courage and great strength who had to walk through a valley filled with traps each and every day. Someone who would do ANYTHING for her child. Someone who was lost, and had no knowledge at all that she was a child of God and that there was a father in Heaven who loved her more than she could comprehend.

To say that Brenda's life revolved around Levi would be the understatement of the century. As a single mother, Brenda was the hub of Levi's existence, and her reason for living. She loved him fiercely. As it is with most autistic children, Levi had trouble with self control. He was on the path to trouble with his hitting and slapping, and Brenda was the recipient of that all too frequently. Still, she stayed.

There were times in my career where I found myself forced to call Child Protective Services on a parent because their child was at risk for injury or abuse. That child would be healthier, happier and safer outside their home environment.

I knew that Levi would die if he were taken from Brenda, and that the same was true for her. They lived and breathed for each other, and their lives were richer for their relationship. They were like the earth and the sun orbiting around each other.

When Levi was in second grade, I wrote a book about him. It is called "Donny is Different".
Brenda was thrilled by it, and everyone who read it loved it. Levi was very intelligent, sweet, kind and very affectionate to those whom he loves, a very different kind of child from the typical autistic children I had ever worked with before- at any age. Capable of learning reading, and basic math, yet still super involved with self stimulation, prone to be extremely loud and to horrible tantrums, Levi was able to show impulse control- something most autistic children are not able to exhibit at all. Levi was mainstreamed all throughout his school time here with regular classes, and made many 'normal' friends who were kind and very accepting of him.

It was my pleasure to be able to work professionally with him from kindergarten through third grade, and to see him mature and completely stop any aggressive behavior and tantrumming.
To grow into a fine young man who can carry on a normal conversation with you, express himself fully and coherently, and whose loving personality and winsome smile can light up a room the instant he walks in.

Over the years I became close to
Brenda, and even after I stopped working with Levi in the school- he went on to the middle school up here and I stayed home with my daughter who was having health problems- Levi would come to my house once a week and I would tutor him. My children learned all about autism from Levi, Cameron and Codi both learned to love him. My daughter especially held a special place in her heart for him because they attended the same schools all through the years and she saw how cruel children could be and stuck up for him whenever she could.
We went to his birthday parties, exchanged gifts for all the holidays, and often we would just stop by and tell them we loved them. I advocated for him at IEPs and spent some time in his middle school classes so I could report back to Brenda that everything was indeed going well.

Brenda always said we were family, that I would always be a part of their lives, no matter where they went or how old we all got to be. She said that she told her sister- who was Levi's guardian in case something ever happened to Brenda- that I was to be kept in his life, always. That I was family.
We talked a lot, about everything. She was there for me through a whole lot of crap in my life, and I always told her how incredibly strong she was- and she never believed me. Always positive about everybody else and always self deprecating, that was Brenda.

Once she touched my daughter deeply by taking her into her room and opening her jewelry box, and giving many pieces of old and beautiful costume jewelry to her. She said "I don't have a daughter, so you will be mine and I'll share you with your mom from now on."

Last year she found love. It was a man who said he loved her, and who -more importantly- loved Levi. This was what Brenda had been looking for, she was beaming, and lovely in love. They moved out of their little trailer and into his house. She sold all of her belongings, truly believing this would be the last move she would ever have to make. Levi would have the daddy he deserved, they would be a whole family...
Things were strained but she tried to make it work.
Then things became abusive, and she moved back into her mobile home, and that was the beginning of the end.

This is my Levi in the third grade with his science project.

Now for the hard part and I apologise ahead of time if I am too brief and short on the whole story, it is very painful and I only hope that writing about it might ease that a little.

I said that the last time I saw Levi was in June. The day after this picture was taken he moved off the mountain and with his aunt.

In May, Brenda went missing.
Prior to this, everyone had noted a change in Brenda. I noticed she was more depressed. She wasn't returning my calls. Since the hard break up a few months earlier, she had vacillated between an "everything's gonna be even better now" attitude and being overwhelmed and frustrated, and then there was the sadness...

She went through a stage shortly after the break up where she was trying to figure out her life, Levi had her smoking outside all the time, handwritten "No Smoking In The House!!!" signs on the door, and Brenda was talking about getting sober. Having quit drugs already after a scary stint in rehab, I encouraged her- you can do it! It lasted for a while, and during that time Brenda looked for God. She looked in books, she prayed all the time, and she even asked me about my church. She had often said she wanted Levi to know about Jesus, and I had invited him to church many times, but to Levi Jesus was in his heart, and church was where you had to be quiet all the time.

Brenda invited the missionaries from my church to come and talk with her, and invited me as well to come. She said she saw what God was doing in my life, and she wanted that for herself. She always had faith that He was there, she gave thanks to Him daily for the many blessings in her life- what was missing was the personal knowledge that she was a highly valued daughter of God. That she had a divine purpose, and that most importantly, she could find redemption through Him.

I had great hope that she would find what she was looking for, but she couldn't.
She became morose, called me a few times crying, could I just take Levi for a while?
Then, I heard nothing from her for a whole month. Then came May, and she was gone.
That May day Brenda dressed up nicely, and got on one of our local transit buses. Everyone thought she was going to work, but later her friend found a note from her saying she just couldn't do it anymore.

In the note she said to take Levi to her sister, that she loved him with all her heart, and that she was tired.

She left a perfectly packed bag for Levi in her house, and her wallet and purse with all her ID in it next to the bag where it would be found easily.

She was last seen in a mini mart where she bought a turkey sandwich and a bottle of vodka.
People said she just took off, she had done it before- before Levi was born anyway- and she would be back.

Friends searched the mountains for her around where she was last seen without finding any trace.

I knew. I knew Brenda would never leave Levi if it wasn't for good. I knew....

A couple of weeks ago a hiker's dog found some remains near a secluded spot in the mountains with a spectacular view of the valley below, and the house where her dreams were dashed to bits.

Yesterday the coroner identified the remains as Brenda.
I haven't seen Levi since. I hear he is adjusting well. He had been told previously that momma was gone taking care of a sick friend. But he knew, as the months passed, he knew...

I remember that last day I saw him, how he clung to me and told me he loved me over and over- "I love you Mrs. Black- you're a true friend"
Brenda's sister has never contacted me, and I fear I may never see him again.

Brenda, I miss you. You were incredibly strong with the heart of a lioness.

Levi, I think about you all the time I miss and love you ever so much.





Monday, September 24, 2007

Life's a dance, we learn as we go....

Hi there loyal readers,
Well, I am currently on cria watch, so I am pretty much Night of the Living dead these days. Not fully capable of functioning on a cerebral level. I thought I'd revamp an old post I did over a year ago when I first started blogging.
I really liked the premise behind the post, but thought I could do better. So, I managed to refresh it and here it is.
I hope you like it!

So I am just sitting here thinking about life. I know, I know, deep thoughts for such a... HEY!!! WHAT ARE YOU THINKING ANYWAY?!?! I can read your mind you know.

Anywho- as you know, I love pictures. I hate being in front of the camera, but would hide behind one forever. That said, I don't scrapbook, or have a million photo albums and I have no idea where all my kid's baby pictures all are, I just know there are a lot of them. I like pictures. Taking them and looking at them.

I can go to a total stranger's house and spend hours looking through their photo albums. Weird? Maybe. But there is something very magical about photos. Did you know that in some cultures people believe that to take a picture of them means you are actually taking a part of their spirit? Like a part of their soul goes into the picture, never to come back into their body again. I have read stories about those same people thinking they were marked for death after someone has not respected that belief and taken a photo of them anyway. And of that person dying not long after.
How persuasive are beliefs.

Interesting to me..... when I was a child, I thought that pictures could "see" me. Like the photo was aware of what I was doing, saying, etc... and I would not have any photographs in my room. Paintings were fine, but only if they weren't of people. People in pictures, I was sure of this, moved at will when no one was looking. I spent long hours wondering where they went and what they did when I wasn't in the room. This was long before Harry Potter and the moving, seeing pictures portrayed there in, but when I first read the book it made perfect sense to me.

Two years ago I lost my best friend. She was a wonderful person, a mother of 5 children, wife of 26 years, and she died very suddenly. Jane was, to me, the perfect wife and mother. She made me want to be a better person, and her countenance was dazzling. I can't recall any time when she wasn't positive- even when times were rough. -- sigh-- there aren't words to adequately describe Jane and how special she really was...... She was in the hospital having a stint in her thigh removed- placed there to catch clots after vein surgery- and the doctor punctured her heart accidentally. This was the first time in medical history that this had happened.
((WHY??))

When it came time for her funeral, there was a viewing.
I couldn't go.
simply. couldn't. go.

You see, I have a picture of Jane, and she is smiling. Smiling at me, every day... In those first few months when I fully expected her to walk in the door of the church we attend, when I picked up the phone to call her, before remembering that I couldn't do that anymore, I looked at her photograph, and my heart was lighter, even though it was still broken. I still miss Jane terribly, I still cry... although the dreams are less frequent of her waving at me and saying 'hi' like she is still here. This is how I will always remember her.

There is one picture I have of her playing a ring-around-the-rosy kind of game with a group of children. Her husband gave me that picture, and I thought it was a recent one. I found out though that it was taken almost 15 years ago. She looked exactly the same. Smiling, happy, radiant. I will remember her that way forever because of a photograph.

The power of photos is readily evident to me, for it seems in my life there has been much loss. Perhaps this is why photography has been so tightly linked to high emotion for me. When I was fifteen my 21 year old brother committed suicide. No one would talk about it with me, and I wasn't even allowed to attend the funeral. I had to deal with it on my own. To come to terms with the act, without any of the details or any explanation. My father couldn't even speak his name for years, and I do mean years afterwards. It was too painful for him. But here was I, wanting more..... So I cherished his last photo. He was smiling at me. He wasn't sad, or depressed, or on drugs or anything. He was just Jeff, smiling at me like he did when he was alive.
This is how I will remember him forever- because of a photograph.

This is not to say that all photos make me sad. I frequently look at a photo taken when my daughter, then only 2 1/2 years old, got caught inside a tomato cage. Cruelly, I made my husband keep her there while I ran for the camera. A priceless picture that makes me laugh every time I see it, the last time was just a few days ago, with Codi sitting next to me.



It invariably brings the evil eye on from my daughter who can't understand why I tortured her like that just for a picture. She doesn't get it- but she will when she has children of her own.




A picture I have of my son playing his guitar- such a handsome boy. At age 4 he got his first one for Christmas. He thought he would be able to pick up the guitar and play like Raffi on his first try. Little did he know as he was so discouraged after that first attempt he would become a virtual prodigy as a teen. Makes me fit to burst with pride and love. A picture of him with his face all screwed up in that impossible way only a one year old can while preparing to let loose a primal scream... I smile.

Wow, are those my kids? They are so beautiful!! Unbelievable that such children could come from me. Me who is so not perfect, and is actually very much lucky to be alive still. What a miracle.



One of me, in Hawaii in 1988. Young, and was I ever that thin??? I always thought I was fat and ugly. Wow, that was me. The lies planted in my heart at such a young age were truly that, just lies. I was beautiful.


One of my husband, in his leather jacket from Turkey, looking over the top of his glasses at me with that look... -- heart flutter -- back away girls, he's all mine :))


The problem is that some of us don't want to have our pictures taken. I am one of them, but I learned a most important lesson. See, we don't have a lot of pictures of my brother Jeff, and I only have a couple of my friend Jane. There are so many others I have lost and there aren't nearly enough pictures of them either.
Life is short, we are mortal, and the others in our lives go on without us.
I wish I had more....
We get old and cranky, we don't want our pictures taken and hide from the camera, we think it is not that important for crying out loud.
But....
If I can't have more time with those I have loved, then I want more pictures.

So get out there and get in front of the camera. I don't care if you are fat, old, or have a mustache (um, that would be the female persuasion type I am referring to here) I need more pictures, and so do all your loved ones.
Life is short my friends, take lots of pictures, and share them with everyone you love.
Pictures are indeed magical. Perhaps a piece of us really does reside in certain pictures after they are taken. I wouldn't be surprised to find out that is true.
See you next time.
Slainte Mor~
Rachelle

Sunday, May 27, 2007

7 things you'll wish you never knew about me


Today I was tagged by David McMahon ... I feel so.... sticky.... I just wish I knew what color spray paint he used! It's so hard to tell in this virtual world.
Sorry David, I don't know how to do that loverly little name click thingy, so visit David here:
http://david-mcmahon.blogspot.com/ And do it regularly, the guy is a master of puns and has more vim than the energizer bunny.

David wants to know seven little known facts about me (the real tag title), as you will see the timing is impeccable. Reader beware.
Here goes.

1) yesterday one of my favorite alpacas gave birth to a beautiful female cria who was premature. She died a few hours later while I looked on and could do nothing, and I cried all night. This was to be one of only three expected crias this year on our small farm.

2) in 1990 I almost committed suicide but instead went to an AA meeting. I got clean & sober that year and stopped my life destructive drinking and my cocaine abuse, and thought life would be so much easier. I thought I would never think about alcohol and suicide again.

3) Yesterday I thought of both. I contemplated throwing 17 years of sobriety out the door and remembered the oblivion I was able to achieve with sufficient quantities of liquor. Yesterday it didn't seem like such a big thing, 17 years- bah. And suicide? Good enough for my big brother, right?

4) Today my eyes are puffy and I still want a drink something fierce, but I will not take it. Suicide has been banished to the dark undercellar of my mind where it belongs, and life, amazingly is going on. One day at a time.....

5) Yesterday I wanted to quit, I questioned the existence of a loving God and raged and gnashed my teeth like a woman possessed. I convinced myself it was all my fault, and that I was being punished for not being good enough. I said "Who needs Him?? I am fine on my own."

6) Today I am humbled and realize I cannot do it alone. I haven't made it to my knees quite yet, but that time is coming, I know it is. I opened my door to this world, and found people out there who cared enough to cover me in spray paint. Thank you David for helping to pull me out, whether you knew it or not.

7) Today I went out and sat with my grieving momma to offer her comfort, and somehow she managed to make me feel better. Dumb animals indeed.
Oh, and sometimes? I just wish I was Harry Potter. With a wand, and cool robes. Escapism in it's highest form.

I would like to thank David for the tagging, and I tag the following people:

See you next time,
Rachelle

Friday, May 11, 2007

For Madriene


Wednesday night one of my dear friends died. While I am too raw to write all that she meant to me, as I have lain sleepless the last two nights and wept and grieved, I feel the need to express a little of what comes to mind when I think of Madriene.
A bright and cheerful Cosmos bloom- for her upbeat personality.

Bright spring peach blossoms for her ability to light up a room with her smile.

A rose, weeping in the morning dew- represents both all I have lost with her passing, and the hidden thorns which might be revealed when she was riled up.

Truly, I am simply flattened by this passing. In one week it will be the two year anniversary of my best friend's death.

I am undone.

Next week I will be gone to Kentucky, so while I will be checking in and reading, I won't be posting.

No one is allowed to die while I'm gone.

For my wild, bohemian hippy love child Madriene- I miss you..........

Photographs copyrighted: Rachelle Black 2007

Monday, April 02, 2007

What dreams may come



In May it will be two years since my best friend died.
It used to be I would dream of her waving at me in passing, like she was letting me know she was still around, not to worry.
It has been quite a while since my last dream of her. I don't cry every day anymore, or when someone mentions her name, or when I think of her family left behind.

Sometimes grief will sneak up behind me and grab hold of my throat, choking me when I least expect it. Like a couple of weeks ago at church when a speaker started talking about how good she was. Then I break down and start to sob. It all comes back to me in a rush, oh yea, she is gone, she won't be coming back...... I do still miss her.

I haven't been sleeping well these last few nights. Having some health struggles of my own right now, I am on some new medication and it is interfering with my sleep patterns. As I have mentioned before, I dream in living color. Big, bold, save the world dreams where I have to be the hero or watch the entire human race go down in flames. Lately my dreams have been particularly heart wrenching.

I dreamed that it was, in fact, the end of the world. Everyone was running towards these bunkers and there was chaos and screaming. Fleeing from some nameless terror vaguely familiar and seen just around the edges, perhaps from the corner of your eye, we ran pell mell.

Upon arriving in one of the bunkers, I looked around me and realized how few we were in numbers. Bunched into furtive groups, some hiding in fear from the faceless enemy, some hiding their evil human nature away, biding their time to feed upon the few valiant left in the world. Some exhibited a newfound suspiciousness of one another, "Are you one of them?" their eyes asked. Or one who seeks to take advantage of these treacherous times? Sheltering their children from other's eyes.
I came to understand my family wasn't with me. I ran from bunker to bunker searching frantically. One such bunker housed Satan worshipping minions. Formerly afraid to boast of their religion, relegated to hiding and secrecy in the past, they openly revelled in this new world and blatantly flaunted their evil natures- posting large banners proclaiming their beliefs and their intent to take over the souls of those left behind to rebuild a decent, upstanding society.

I stated my intent to these robed and hooded faceless entities, to remain valiant, and bravely, with great fear in my heart, stood up to proclaim that good would indeed conquer evil in the end. I remember the fear....

Searching for hours, I found no trace of my family. I peered into one bunker and recognized a family I knew. They too were short members of their family. They stressed to me that they had not seen my daughter or son, and I left bereft.

In the next bunker I came to, I saw my daughter from behind. It was her! Her hair, the shape of her silhouette, backlit by sun streaming in the window. My heart rejoiced, at last! I ran to embrace her and the young woman turned to me.... it wasn't her. I crumpled to the floor in despair. I sobbed, and screamed, tearing at my hair for I simply knew I would never find her, or any of my other family members. I was alone.

I awoke with my eyes puffy, crying my heart out. I went back to sleep only to relive the last few moments of my dream, over and over again. Waking each time to find myself weeping and feeling that terrible ache in my heart that convinced me it was not a dream. Unable to fully awaken, unable to try and search further, to alter the ending of the dream, destined to return again and again to the same place and relive that awful realization over and over again- I despaired of ever feeling whole again.

Finally I was able to break the cycle and awaken fully. Rushing to my daughter's room I sat at her bedside forever stroking her face and reassuring myself that it was, in fact, only a dream. On to my son's room for the same routine.

As I write this, I weep again, so powerful was this dream.

What was it? A horrible premonition of some event to come? An underlying fear of loss that is buried in my subconscious and manifesting itself in my dreams? That's what the experts say happens anyway.... Everyone knows that a mother's most powerful fear is the loss of a child. But what purpose does a dream like this serve?

--sigh-- I wish I could just sleep, only sleep.

Last night I dreamed of my friend Jane. She was standing on the edge of, well..... something. I ran to her and hugged her tightly. Telling her how much I loved her, and how much I admired her. Knowing she was going to die, I expressed my desire to be able to do something, anything to help her. I couldn't tell her that she was going to die, so I was trying to find some way to just do something to help.

I don't know if I meant to prevent her death, or to help her prepare for it, or even if it was a simple wish to help her family afterwards deal with such a terrible loss. All I know is that she hugged me back, and that I knew I had let her know how much I loved her..... before she was gone. Maybe this dream was her way of telling me that she knew it all along.

Regrets, yup, I've got them. I learned a powerful lesson with the loss of my friend. Tell people you love them, admire them, treasure them every day, while you can.

For days after my dream about losing my family, I had to stop and hug my daughter. The feelings of hopelessness I felt coming back fully every time I saw her face.

I have to wonder, what purpose do dreams of the apocalyptic kind serve? To remind me to strengthen my faith for trials ahead? To serve as a reminder of the fragility of mortal life? I don't know.

Maybe it's just hormones.... ha-ha.

Till next time my friends.

Slainte~

Rachelle