It Takes a Village - Turning Over a New Leaf

Sometimes the" planets and stars" have to align in a special way before you can clearly see the answer to a struggle.
That's pretty much what happened to me during the last week of August, right after my sister passed away. I had spent months agonizing over a decision that would, once again, cause me to reinvent myself, that could possibly affect my reputation - and most importantly - could affect the well-being of about 2,500 other people.

I'm talking about my position as the Development Director for the VIM/HANDS Clinic of St. Lucie County, where, for the past three-years, I have been responsible for raising $1 million each year.
As anyone within the realm of fund development knows, it's a very high stress world, one that requires you to be "on" at all times. Adding to that is the fact that the Clinic had never embarked on any type of fund- or friend-raising campaign. So, I began with literally nothing.

The struggles my family and I have met this past year have caused my faith to come into question, have left me feeling empty, and have caused me to take pause and consider what's most important to me.

The result -- On Sept. 1, I gave my notice at the Clinic, making today my last day of employment. So, tonight, there are some people I want to thank; people who believed in me and helped me along the way as I raised $3 million to keep the Clinic open, serving the healthcare needs of this county's vulnerable uninsured adult population.

Wendy Dwyer -- Thank you for sharing your idea of what became known as The Jewelia Project with me. You could have shared that with anyone of a thousand people, but you chose me. I hope I made you proud, as the Project has raised nearly $400,000 to date. (And it ain't over 'til the fat lady sings, and I ain't singin'!)
Dr. Shamsher Singh -- Thank you for being the very first person to financially invest in the future health and well-being of the people of St. Lucie County.
A&G Concrete Pools and Art Allen -- Thank you for your financial support, for treating me on the same professional level as you would any other person or client, for truly understanding the need for these services that are provided by the Clinic, and for the Tequila.
Sandee Allen -- Thank you for always being there for me; more often than even my own husband (he thanks you for that), and no matter what time of day or night.
All of the Ladies of the Jewelia Project - Past, Present and Future -- You are the glue that has held me together. Cris Adams, Pat Alley, Wendy Dwyer, Jennifer Strawn, Tia Adkins, Sandee Allen, Veronica Tempone, Maria Seidel, Sue-Ellen Sanders, Jeannette Weiss, Bunny Webb, Mia Batalini, Debora Thompson, Kathy Post, Linda Evans, Deejay Gardner, Gail Flesche, Pamela Tempone, Jennifer Wiggins, Jackie Holfelder, Janie Reed, and Brittany Huff. You have proven over and over again how clever and creative you can be when it comes to event planning, taking it up a notch with each special event.
Kit Santacroce --  I have learned so much about the medical world from you, but most importantly the medical world as it pertains to those who are at risk, those without insurance, those in dire need.
Frannie Hutchinson -- You have been a guiding star since the loss of my mother; always knowing exactly what to say and when I need to hear it.
Ken Pruitt -- Thank you for guiding me through the maze that is the Florida State Legislature. Was I ever feeling like a fish out of water, but you calmed me down and pointed me in the right direction - making me successful in my endeavor.
St. Lucie County Board of County Commissioners -- Thank you for understanding the value of a healthy population and thereby providing $600,000 in support over the course of the past three years.
Local businesses -- Thank you for providing in-kind donations that allowed us to raise much-needed funding through raffles and auctions.

To every single person who ever attended one of the more than 40 special events that have been held to benefit the Clinic or who donated financially or with volunteer hours -- THANK YOU!

Mel Liebman, Geoff Liebman, Stacy Liebman, Jean Swift, Kimberly Smith -- Thank you for understanding why I couldn't always "be there," because of the demands of this position. Thank you - as always - for your love and support.

I know this is a huge leap of faith, publicly thanking people and risking that someone's feelings will be hurt, but remember -- it truly takes a village. And even though your name might not be listed here, a day doesn't go by that I don't thank this entire community for it's support.

And so, a new leaf has been turned over. Next week I begin my new position with PNC Bank, where I will be working for Aileen Pruitt in the bank's Community Development Department. I'm excited as a new chapter begins in my life
Please continue to support the VIM/HANDS Clinic -- without YOU, it's just not possible.

My Big Sister - So Much Like Mother.

I feel as though I'm walking through darkness, and yet, every step is all too familiar.
I want to go someplace where it's safe to scream at the top of my lungs, as if when my voice is finally silenced it will all be better - just a bad dream.
I want to know why. How is this God's plan?
I told her tonight that I wish I could shoulder at least half of her pain and discomfort, and she thanked me and we cried together.
I meant it.
I want the earth to stop revolving and let us get off for a while; let us have some quiet time together without any talk about collapsing health, or mean and uncaring assistants at doctors offices, or the inadequacies of the so-called advantage healthcare plans, or side effects of medications ...
I know we can't hide from her fate, but I want to.
I want to hold on to my big sister and squeeze her. Of the four siblings, she's not the strongest.
I want to protect her.
I need her.
I want her to know how much I love her. I've told her over and over for many years, but I want her to really know what her life has meant to mine.
I want her to know that I feel as though someone has sucked out everything I have - my guts, my heart, my oxygen, my faith, my whole being.
Again.
That's how much I love my big sister.
I want her to know what a beautiful human being she is.
She is selfless. No one else I know is as concerned more with the needs of others than my big sister.
She doesn't deserve this - not at all.
God's plan?
I want to relive the night she flew in from Illinois to Miami to visit with Mom, Dad, my younger sister and me. I was about seven or eight years old and Mom knew how excited I was to have my big sister coming for a visit. So, she woke me in the middle of the night so I could give her hugs and kisses.
I want to thank her for buying me my first pair of pantyhose and teaching me how to put them on. Unfortunately, she had to buy four more pairs, because I kept putting my thumb through them.
I want to play racquet ball with her one more time, and tease her for getting so sweaty.
I want to go to a parade with her so we can hide our tears together behind our sunglasses as the American flag passes.
I want her to know how appreciative I am for her giving me a home when I needed one. She and her husband and four children shared their three-bedroom apartment with me when I needed a place to live.
I want her to know what a good Auntie and babysitter she was to my son. To this day, he enjoys being with her.
I want to look at old photos with her, talking and laughing about those times; the big holiday celebrations where we'd spend hours at the dining room table.
I love laughing with her. Everything we've ever done together has been filled with high octane laughter.
I cherish those memories.
I want her to cook one more Thanksgiving dinner, so we can chuckle together about her lack of culinary expertise.
I want her to know that she's the only person I've ever shared so many secrets with, and I know they are safe.
I wish I knew more about the man she gave her heart to years after her husband passed away.
I love talking to her everyday on my way to work and on my way home. I already miss those conversations.
Together we bitch about our jobs.
I concede - hers is far worse.
I'm hoping she's not fearful, but how can she not be?
I don't want to be angry, but I am.
My big sister lies in bed at night, while the world is asleep, including the physicians that failed her. She knows there is nothing that can be done for her. Cancer is killing her, yet it's not taking her soon enough.
I am angry.
Forget about that eclipse trip we had planned together; her one and only "bucket list" item she's ever asked for in her entire life.
She wanted so little. So much like Mother.

Her Knight in Shining Armor

Daddy and Mom had been married for more than 63-years when he passed away from complications caused by Alzheimer's disease. He was 24 and she was exactly one-month away from her 19th birthday when they married on July 11, 1937 - only days after his brother's funeral.

In fact, it's that funeral that brought on the sudden marriage. Daddy was working in New Mexico and Mother had just finished high school when my dad's brother passed away and he needed to make the trip back home for the funeral.

As they say, "Absence makes the heart grow fonder," so they took advantage of the timing of the unfortunate situation and married. No pomp and circumstance, no wedding dress, no honeymoon.

Only days later Daddy returned to New Mexico, but this time with his beaming bride in his arms.

How romantic!

Mom's Knight in Shining Armor!

At some point in all our lives, haven't we wished someone would come and whisk us away? Our own knight in shining armor, so to speak?

It's funny, when I think about my dad, I don't really see him as a romantic; I see him as a hard-working, no-frills, get-down-to-business kind of guy. Yet, when I actually dissect those memories, I truly see a man who wanted the best for his family, who loved his wife with great passion, who worked hard to provide the best he could for that wife, and who wanted nothing more than her love and appreciation in return.

I see a man whom, upon returning home from work each day, would go straight to the kitchen where he knew he would find Mom making dinner and he would "sneak" up behind her, put his arms around her waist, and kiss her on the cheek. I can still hear Mom say, "Oh, Gail!"

Despite their hard times, as faced by any marriage, I still today see their's as a love story of great proportion.

For their 55th anniversary, I made this wreath as a kind of symbol of their commitment to each other and to their family. Through thick and thin, they had remained together. That's not easy - in any marriage!

Mother would hang it on their front door during the month of July.
After Daddy passed and she then lived with us, she'd hang it on her bedroom door.

Today, in keeping with  Mom's tradition, I also hang it from what used to be her bedroom door during the month of July.
Next Tuesday, July 11, my parents would have celebrated their 80th anniversary.

Happy anniversary, Daddy and Mom!
Thank you for your commitment to each other and to your family, for making my life as comfortable as possible, for loving me and making it so easy for me to love back.

It's true - absence does make the heart grow fonder.

I love and miss you, both.

Lost

I know that the space between now and then allows for some semblance of healing.
I know that tomorrow and the next day and the day after that will likely be a tiny bit better than today.
I also know that  no amount of time heals the wound; the scar left behind by the agony.

I am in more pain tonight than I have ever felt in my life.
I thought losing my father was one of the hardest things I would ever have to face ...
Until the loss of my mother, which I just have no words for.
Then came today.

I never expected it.
I wasn't prepared for it.
And I can't do anything at all about it.

I hurt.
My heart actually bleeds.
I cry for my son, his wife, my husband and myself.
My son.

You can be the most self-centered, self-absorbed person in the world, and parenthood will likely change that in a flash. You are the reason for your child's existence, but your child, instantly upon his birth, becomes the reason for yours.

When shit happens, why do people feel the need to say, "Well, I know it's hard to see right now, but God has a plan"?

What kind of God plans this kind of tragedy? What kind of God allows for this kind of pain? What kind of God would let this happen to my daughter-in-law? What kind of God would let this happen to my son? My son?

I don't go to church, but why does that single action determine whether or not someone is a "good Christian?"
I am a good person.
My son is an even better person with incredibly strong work ethics.

I no longer have any faith. Today I was stripped of any hope.
To deny me is one thing, but to deny my son is another.

Fuck you!
He deserves way better and so does she.

The Joy of Living

It's been a while since I journaled on this blog, but today I was captured by two books, causing me to take pause and temporarily let go of the "overwhelmingness" that has become my life. Although I'm not an avid reader, I have made a pledge to myself to read both of these books.

The first book was gifted to me by a friend. The title is "Strangers Tend to Tell me Things - A Memoir of Love, Loss, and Coming Home" by Amy Dickinson. She is the voice behind the popular advice column, "Ask Amy." Part of her book is about the caring of her mother at the end of her life. Although I haven't yet read it, the book appears to contain stories about her own way of handling love, the loss of a loved one, and grief - as well as many humorous stories about menopause, blind dating, and stepping in to her own middle ages.

Taped to the outside cover of the book is a note from Ms. Dickinson and from my friend that reads:
"Grief isn't something that can be hurried. You can't move through it faster than it moves through you." -- Amy Dickinson
"Sydney, I thought of you at least a dozen times while reading this. I hope you'll enjoy it, too, especially the sections about mothers and daughters." -- Love, Wendy

The second book is one that actually came out today entitled "Option B" by Sheryl Sandberg. She's been on the talk show circuit these past few days, and I watched her interview on two of the morning shows.

The last chapter of her book is about how she learned to find joy after the sudden death of her husband. In that chapter she speaks about a self-imposed challenge to -- at the end of each day -- remember three things that brought her joy.

After hearing that, I decided that I must do the same thing.

This morning I was looking back at one of my earliest posts on this blog. I wrote it on a day when I recognized that the passing of my mother had put me in a vacuum and had even slowed my ability to respond and react. I wanted to share that post with a friend who just last week lost her wife (which I did), but as I re-read the post, I realized that I've not actually moved from that place of stagnation myself.

Of course, there are many things that fill my heart with joy and love, and there are many people in my life that comfort and feed me. I know I am blessed. But I am also extremely busy, and I now find that I have become overpowered by that business - the distress factors in my work life - which spill over into my personal life.

So when I heard Sheryl Sandberg speak about her challenge, I decided that beginning tonight and every night going forward, I will also find three things that have brought me joy during that day.

Tonight I will begin with a few things that I will consider a given from this point forward -- the fact that I awoke this morning, that I am married to one of the greatest guys on this earth, and that - together with my husband - we laid the perfect foundation for our son who is a wonderful, hard-working and ethical man today. I will never take those three things for granted, but for the purposes of this challenge, I also will not include them in my daily list.

So, what three things brought me joy today?

1. First thing this morning I saw a post on Facebook that announced a new hair dresser would be working at my daughter's salon, which means that her new business is really doing well. For those of you who don't already know, at the age of 17, I gave my baby daughter up for adoption, so she is was not raised by me. Years back we were united and I'm ecstatically happy for her. I love her so much. Joy!

2. A friend called me tonight to check in and see how I was doing after the loss of our mutual friend this past week. Between that and her husband's 55th high school reunion, she felt as though she was definitely facing her own mortality, but we ended up sharing jokes, laughter and fun. Joy!

3. There is a phenom here where people are painting rocks and hiding them for others to find. Tonight on my walk along the trails in the back of our community, I found two and one is painted to look like a pink ladybug. Joy!

Those are my three I choose to write about tonight. I'm sure there were other moments of joyousness, but those are the three that seem to stand out. I'll continue to find joy in what others may see as mundane, small things, and I will smile at those moments in a friendship that might otherwise pass by unnoticed.

Joy - the ability to appreciate the gift of life in a way I never did before.

And now on to conquer those books!

I MAY NOT BE MY BROTHER'S KEEPER, BUT I AM MY BROTHER'S BROTHER

"A brother is a friend given by Nature."

I saw this quote today and thought of my own brother, of course. Although we are 10-years apart in age, and we really didn't share childhood times with each other, we did grow into adulthood together. I love my brother and I love our friendship and that we share the constant "I would do anything within my power for you" mantra.

But, as my husband braces for the call we all dread, I'm also thinking about his brother and their relationship.

There's also a bit of an age difference between my husband and his brother - about seven-years. Much like myself, by the time my husband was old enough to begin to appreciate that he had one, his brother was about to graduate from high school. So, their defining childhood years were not really spent together as kids -- boys being boys.

My husband's brother has always been more serious than my husband; never seeming to let go and let loose. We often tease him about it. It seems as though the older he has gotten, the more ridged he has become. He's never said this to us, but I've always felt as though he wished he could be a little more like my husband and me -- a little more off-the-cuff, flexible, able to let go of his fears and just have fun.

That being said, one of my first memories of my husband's brother happened while my husband and I were engaged and his brother's job required a bit of traveling. He would allow us to "use" his apartment while he was away. ha ha ha

They don't have a lot in common, but they share a mutual respect for their ancestry, their way of life as children, and for their parents.

He's not really been an obvious driving force in my husband's life, but he is a symbolic force.

This is his Big Brother, and he is very ill - not expected to recover.

If you follow me on Facebook, you know that I'm praying for a miracle - in fact, I'm expecting one. (Pish-tosh to the doctor's expectations)

But the situation is bringing many thoughts that we've never really talked about to the forefront.  My husband has asked and said:

"Did I do enough to see to his well-being?"

"Did I stay close enough to him?"

"Could I have done more?"

"I really feel for his son."

"If things go as we're being told, I'll be the patriarch of the family!"

"Do I know all the stories about him that I should know?"

"Wow, am I old!"

"I wish I had more say in his care."

Since learning about his brother's illness, my husband has, at times, been wrought with guilt, sadness, and regret - both for the closeness they had and for what they didn't have. Of  course, we all know that's normal, but what I think makes this more difficult is the realization that they have had even fewer common experiences as adults then they did as children.

It seems to me the possible loss of a sibling is kind of neglected in our adult life. What I mean by that is we know that our grandparents and parents won't be with us on this earth forever. (Even though I'll admit that thought never entered my own head.)  But we don't ever talk about the possibility of losing a sibling.

I've read that there is a sort of social expectation that the death of a brother or sister in adulthood will have very little disruptive effect on us -- almost like there's a failure to appreciate the significance of siblings in adult life.

Well, that's just rubbish!

My husband and his brother may not share a lot of experiences, but they do share the bond that only a big and little brother can fully understand.

I can't imagine not having my brother and sisters to talk to, to play with, to reminisce with, to poke fun at, to disagree with, to learn from.

Just as important to me is my husband's relationship with his brother, because what my husband feels and goes through - I, too, feel and go through with him.

My thoughts tonight are with my brother-in-law and while I want nothing but comfort for him, I'm praying for a miracle!

I'm praying for my husband as he makes this journey.

I'm praying for my own siblings, and may they continue to be a strong force in my life.

I will always be your baby-girl, and you will always be my Daddy.

15-years ago, almost to this very minute, I lost my daddy. After a long, arduous and losing battle with Alzheimer's disease, what I consider to be the most horrible of all diseases, he succumbed to its tangles. 

Strong.

Hard working.

Good-natured.

These are the words I first think of when remembering my father. Even though I have two sisters and one brother, I was daddy’s little girl and I knew it. I had him wrapped around my little stubby fingers. Of course, my younger sister had him wrapped around her finger, too, but I ignored that. ha ha. He never, ever admitted that I could possibly be his favorite - up until his final days when I tried to trick him into saying he loved me best - he said, "I love you, too. I love all my children."


Daddy was born on Oct. 20, 1912 and I was born on Oct. 19. He always said that I was his birthday present, and I always thought that made me special.

My dad wasn’t given any breaks in his life. He was a hard-working man, making the best living he could in order to give his family a comfortable life. From working in the mines in New Mexico, to the ship yards in Indiana during World War II, to delivering gasoline to filling stations in Southern Illinois, to supervising several stations in South Florida, Daddy worked hard all his life. And never one to rest on his laurels, he continued to work long into his retirement years – repairing lawn mowers, pumping gas, mowing lawns, bagging groceries and making deliveries for local businesses.

The best legacy he could have left us is the legacy of integrity and strength. For me, he did that by instilling that sense of pride I get when doing the right thing; speaking up against injustice; speaking for those who cannot speak for themselves; doing everything in my power to make things right.
My dad wasn't a community advocate, but he understood the important role one plays when helping those who can't help themselves. I made him proud, which still today gives me great pride.

A day doesn’t pass without a thought of my dad. I look to him for strength, I look to him for pride, I look to him for a sense of humor, but mostly I look to him for love. In the same way I thought of my mother, I never imagined life without Daddy.


In looking back – my family realizes that my father showed signs of Alzheimer’s disease a good 10-15 years before he passed away. But relatives called it hardening of the arteries back then.


My father was a proud man – unable to accept that anything was wrong with him. So, eventually when things became too difficult for my mother to care for him, we made the family-decision to place my father in nursing home care. 


Not too long ago, I read with interest a story about whether or not jokes or funny stories about Alzheimer’s disease were in bad taste or were they funny. The response was overwhelming. 92% of those polled said that they were necessary in order to keep sanity, while caring for a family member stricken with Alzheimer’s disease.


My dad had a fabulous sense of humor – teasing and playing tricks on friends and family all the time, so I will share one story that might be considered humorous. 


While in nursing home care, my father kind of deemed himself the leader. Whenever the residents from his wing were gathered to be taken to the main dining hall for afternoon entertainment, it was my father who lined everyone up before and after the show.


One afternoon following the presentation, my father lined everyone up for their return to their wing and asked, “Are we all here?” To which the woman at the end of the line responded, “Well, we’re all here, but I don’t think we’re all there!”


My take-away from that statement that afternoon is that those stricken with Alzheimer’s disease know something is wrong, but they are trapped inside their thoughts without a way to express them.


Only research can learn the truth and only research can find a cure.
I believe we are closing in on answers that could affect those of us that are next in line.
I believe there is an end in sight and it will enable our children and grandchildren to live in a world free of this mind-stealing disease.


And the next time someone says, “You’ll always have your memories,” it will actually be true.


Growing up, I never had my own birthday party, because we’d celebrate my birthday and my dad’s at the same time. As a child, I’d often wish I didn’t have to share the “spotlight.” I just wanted my own party with my own friends. Today, I’d give anything to be able to share it with him, again.

In memory of Maurice Gail Jackson - son, husband, father, grandfather and friend