Saturday, March 29, 2014
Wednesday, March 26, 2014
Tuesday, March 25, 2014
Time Heals!
Its been a couple of weeks since the anniversary of Mark’s death. In my last post I talked about the difference between mourning and grief. Mourning is time related. In most cultures a year. Grief continues on forever, but with the passage of time it sinks from the surface. Never very far, but coping with those moments of grief brings less tears and heartache. I am here to report that this premise holds true, even more than I believed it would. The tears are fewer and farther between. The weight of grief has diminished. It’s still there, but easier.
In 1994 my parents were nearing the end. My brother and I had made the trip to Indiana once again. This was the hardest one because, we had to return Mom to the care of a nursing home. My brother and I agree it was the hardest thing we had experienced in our lives up to that time.
I was at the nursing home before I left for the trip back to Minnesota. I stood at the door and watched this final scene.
“Mom had the left-leaning list left behind by her stroke, as she shuffled down the hall on Dad’s arm. Dad had a slightly bent-over walk with his trousers, held up by his suspenders, situated too far above his waist and the tops of his white socks showing -- high water pants is what she would have called them. They had finally taken on the feeble look of the very old. Against the bright light, reflecting off the polished beige tiled floor, they moved slowly away from where I stood, supporting each other, moving gently into the light.
The next day, I started back to Minnesota. As I drove along, I couldn’t get that image out of my mind, and suddenly tears began to flow like the torrents of a summer thunderstorm beating against the windshield. I pulled to the side of the road, where I sat crying -- unashamedly. Eventually, the storm of tears subsided and the clouds of mourning cleared away. I felt as if a heavy burden had been lifted from my shoulders. In retrospect, that moment on the highway was my period of mourning for the loss of my parents because from that moment on, I cried very little. I realized the time had come to take my seat in the front row of life, as the older generation, and someday, I too would walk gently into the light. “
These experiences are consistent, although the facts of the circumstances are a little different. Mourning passes and grieve subsides to a little below the surface of your emotions. Time heals, even though it doesn’t heal completely.
As I wrote about my grandfather' s funeral on what it felt like when it was all over.
'"As we walked back to our car in silence, I took a quick glance over my shoulder to catch a final glimpse of where my grandfather would be buried forever. Dad started the engine, and we eased our way out of the cemetery and on to the road back to Grandma’s house. The silence was broken when my father reached over and turned on the radio. As the music began to play, I can clearly remember feeling the great burden of grief being lifted from my body. Suddenly, I felt better. The program on the radio was normal. The traffic was normal. The sunshine was normal. The green of the trees and grass was normal. Everything was normal, and the world was indeed going on as usual. I guess it was my first realization that death’s rituals pass and the world, as it had done while I was away, goes on about its daily business.
'
There is a new day!
Sam
In 1994 my parents were nearing the end. My brother and I had made the trip to Indiana once again. This was the hardest one because, we had to return Mom to the care of a nursing home. My brother and I agree it was the hardest thing we had experienced in our lives up to that time.
I was at the nursing home before I left for the trip back to Minnesota. I stood at the door and watched this final scene.
“Mom had the left-leaning list left behind by her stroke, as she shuffled down the hall on Dad’s arm. Dad had a slightly bent-over walk with his trousers, held up by his suspenders, situated too far above his waist and the tops of his white socks showing -- high water pants is what she would have called them. They had finally taken on the feeble look of the very old. Against the bright light, reflecting off the polished beige tiled floor, they moved slowly away from where I stood, supporting each other, moving gently into the light.
The next day, I started back to Minnesota. As I drove along, I couldn’t get that image out of my mind, and suddenly tears began to flow like the torrents of a summer thunderstorm beating against the windshield. I pulled to the side of the road, where I sat crying -- unashamedly. Eventually, the storm of tears subsided and the clouds of mourning cleared away. I felt as if a heavy burden had been lifted from my shoulders. In retrospect, that moment on the highway was my period of mourning for the loss of my parents because from that moment on, I cried very little. I realized the time had come to take my seat in the front row of life, as the older generation, and someday, I too would walk gently into the light. “
These experiences are consistent, although the facts of the circumstances are a little different. Mourning passes and grieve subsides to a little below the surface of your emotions. Time heals, even though it doesn’t heal completely.
As I wrote about my grandfather' s funeral on what it felt like when it was all over.
'"As we walked back to our car in silence, I took a quick glance over my shoulder to catch a final glimpse of where my grandfather would be buried forever. Dad started the engine, and we eased our way out of the cemetery and on to the road back to Grandma’s house. The silence was broken when my father reached over and turned on the radio. As the music began to play, I can clearly remember feeling the great burden of grief being lifted from my body. Suddenly, I felt better. The program on the radio was normal. The traffic was normal. The sunshine was normal. The green of the trees and grass was normal. Everything was normal, and the world was indeed going on as usual. I guess it was my first realization that death’s rituals pass and the world, as it had done while I was away, goes on about its daily business.
'
There is a new day!
Sam
Monday, March 17, 2014
On a Lighter Note!
There are always gaffs in politics. I like the funny ones. These are two of my favorites.
Joe Biden:
Joe was at a rally. Someone told him a state representative was in the audience who was running for reelection. Ever the politician Joe shouted out, "I understand Representative John Jones is in the audience. Stand up John and let us see you." Unfortunately, John was in a wheel chair. Joe rallied and recovered, but it was like an SNL moment.
Sarah Palin:
After Palin was introduced by McCain, she got into her speech and commented on Hillary. She complimented her on her campaign and on the dissatisfaction of Hillary's woman supporters, who were left behind. "Hillary left behind 18 million cracks in the ceiling." I still get a chuckle out of that.
Have a nice dy!
Are we there yet?
Sam
Joe Biden:
Joe was at a rally. Someone told him a state representative was in the audience who was running for reelection. Ever the politician Joe shouted out, "I understand Representative John Jones is in the audience. Stand up John and let us see you." Unfortunately, John was in a wheel chair. Joe rallied and recovered, but it was like an SNL moment.
Sarah Palin:
After Palin was introduced by McCain, she got into her speech and commented on Hillary. She complimented her on her campaign and on the dissatisfaction of Hillary's woman supporters, who were left behind. "Hillary left behind 18 million cracks in the ceiling." I still get a chuckle out of that.
Have a nice dy!
Are we there yet?
Sam
Sunday, March 16, 2014
The Mourning After!
A last week approached, I was not looking forward to it. It would the first anniversary of Mark’s death. No one can really understand the tragedy brought about by the death of a child, and I hope nobody ever has to understand. We are not the first nor the last people to lose a child. Everyone handles it in their own way, but It leaves a huge hole in your heart, mind and soul.
However, as the week went on, approaching that fateful day, I found it to be not as paralyzing as I thought it would be. Last Sunday, I ask my brother how it was when the first anniversary of Jeff’s death came around. He told me it wasn't as bad as he anticipated. If someone were to ask me the same question today, I would give them the same answer. I actually had a very good week. Oh, there were tears, but the overall week was a combination of praying, nostalgia, tears, laughs, reliving his life, reading the Facebook comments about Mark over the past year (there were many from this week from his friends and co-workers, his photography, his videos and my own reflections. My passage was soothed by writing from the my heart. He was unique. a loving friendly, funny, and a loyal friend to anyone he ever met. He is loved and remembered.
So with all the sadness I experienced this week, how could have been a good week? I have come to this conclusion. Mourning and grieving are too different things. Mourning is a time period. It has a beginning and an end. In most societies it seems to last a year. This week I ended the mourning period. When you put mourning on the back shelf, there is a sense of a new beginning. The first my of the rest of my life. Mourning is behind me.
When mourning is put away, it leaves only the grief. But a strange thing happens, the grief subsides and sinks below the surface a little bit. It will never go away, but it lowers itself in to a more quiet place. The grief will always be there, but with damp eyes rather than tears. I suppose this is the part in the stages of grief called, acceptance.
I want to thank all of my friends who read my blog for bearing with me this week. It has been cathartic.
With all my heart, I love you all. And so I move on making my memories.
Sam
However, as the week went on, approaching that fateful day, I found it to be not as paralyzing as I thought it would be. Last Sunday, I ask my brother how it was when the first anniversary of Jeff’s death came around. He told me it wasn't as bad as he anticipated. If someone were to ask me the same question today, I would give them the same answer. I actually had a very good week. Oh, there were tears, but the overall week was a combination of praying, nostalgia, tears, laughs, reliving his life, reading the Facebook comments about Mark over the past year (there were many from this week from his friends and co-workers, his photography, his videos and my own reflections. My passage was soothed by writing from the my heart. He was unique. a loving friendly, funny, and a loyal friend to anyone he ever met. He is loved and remembered.
So with all the sadness I experienced this week, how could have been a good week? I have come to this conclusion. Mourning and grieving are too different things. Mourning is a time period. It has a beginning and an end. In most societies it seems to last a year. This week I ended the mourning period. When you put mourning on the back shelf, there is a sense of a new beginning. The first my of the rest of my life. Mourning is behind me.
When mourning is put away, it leaves only the grief. But a strange thing happens, the grief subsides and sinks below the surface a little bit. It will never go away, but it lowers itself in to a more quiet place. The grief will always be there, but with damp eyes rather than tears. I suppose this is the part in the stages of grief called, acceptance.
I want to thank all of my friends who read my blog for bearing with me this week. It has been cathartic.
With all my heart, I love you all. And so I move on making my memories.
Sam
Friday, March 14, 2014
When Tomorrow Starts Without Me!
By David Romano
When tomorrow starts without me,
and I'm not there to see;
If the sun should rise and find your eyes
all filled with tears for me;
I wish so much you wouldn't cry
the way you did today,
While thinking of the many things
we didn't get to say.
I know how much you love me,
as much as I love you,
And each time you think of me,
I know you'll miss me, too.
But when tomorrow starts without me,
please try and understand,
That an angel came and called my name
and took me by the hand,
And said my place was ready
in heaven far above,
And that I'd have to leave behind
all those I dearly love.
But as I turned to walk away,
a tear fell from my eye,
For all my life I'd always thought
I didn't want to die.
I had so much to live for
and so much yet to do,
It seemed almost impossible
that I am leaving you.
I thought of all the yesterdays,
the good ones and the bad,
I thougth of all the love we shared
and all the fun we had.
If I could relive yesterday,
I thought, just for a while,
I'd say good-bye and kiss you
and maybe see your smile.
But then I fully realized
that this could never be.
For emptiness and memories
would take the place of me.
And when I thought of worldly things
that I'd miss come tomorrow,
I thought of you, and when I did,
my heart was filled with sorrow.
But when I walked through heaven's gates,
I felt so much at home.
When God look down and smiled at me,
from His great golden throne.
He said, "This is eternity
and all I've promised you,
Today your life on earth is past,
but here it starts anew.
I promise no tomorrow,
but today will always last,
And since each day's the same day,
there's no longing for the past.
But you have been so faithful,
so trusting and so true,
Though there were times you did some things
you knew you shouldn't do.
But you have been forgiven,
and now at last your free.
So won't you take my hand
and share my life with me?"
So when tomorrow starts without me,
don't think we're far apart,
For everytime you think of me,
I'm right here in your heart.
When tomorrow starts without me,
and I'm not there to see;
If the sun should rise and find your eyes
all filled with tears for me;
I wish so much you wouldn't cry
the way you did today,
While thinking of the many things
we didn't get to say.
I know how much you love me,
as much as I love you,
And each time you think of me,
I know you'll miss me, too.
But when tomorrow starts without me,
please try and understand,
That an angel came and called my name
and took me by the hand,
And said my place was ready
in heaven far above,
And that I'd have to leave behind
all those I dearly love.
But as I turned to walk away,
a tear fell from my eye,
For all my life I'd always thought
I didn't want to die.
I had so much to live for
and so much yet to do,
It seemed almost impossible
that I am leaving you.
I thought of all the yesterdays,
the good ones and the bad,
I thougth of all the love we shared
and all the fun we had.
If I could relive yesterday,
I thought, just for a while,
I'd say good-bye and kiss you
and maybe see your smile.
But then I fully realized
that this could never be.
For emptiness and memories
would take the place of me.
And when I thought of worldly things
that I'd miss come tomorrow,
I thought of you, and when I did,
my heart was filled with sorrow.
But when I walked through heaven's gates,
I felt so much at home.
When God look down and smiled at me,
from His great golden throne.
He said, "This is eternity
and all I've promised you,
Today your life on earth is past,
but here it starts anew.
I promise no tomorrow,
but today will always last,
And since each day's the same day,
there's no longing for the past.
But you have been so faithful,
so trusting and so true,
Though there were times you did some things
you knew you shouldn't do.
But you have been forgiven,
and now at last your free.
So won't you take my hand
and share my life with me?"
So when tomorrow starts without me,
don't think we're far apart,
For everytime you think of me,
I'm right here in your heart.
Thursday, March 13, 2014
The Worst Day Of My Life!
March 13, 2013. I started my day pretty much as usual. I checked out the news on my computer, lounged around and then headed for the gym. It was a typical Southern California day, beautiful. It was a day the Lord had made.
I finished my usual exercise routine, spoke to Jimmy, the attendant, picked up a copy of the local Coronado Eagle Journal and went out the door and up the stairs into the warm sunshine. As I reached the top of the stairs, my phone rang. It was about 10:45. It was my friend, Ruieta. She said there was a policeman who wanted to speak with me, I told him I would be right there and proceeded to walk to my building and up the elevator. I still had no clue why a policeman would want to talk to me. I wondered if he needed to talk to me about a friend who might be in some trouble.Yes, I do have friends that could be in trouble.
Note: Ruieta later told me that she was scheduled to visit a few of the units her family owned. She planned to make my building her last stop, but for some reason she changed her mind and came to my building first. She usually parks in the parking structure, but today parked out the front entrance to the lobby. When she went inside the policeman was there looking for me. They did not have my cell number at the desk. She spoke up and said she had my phone number. The officer made that fateful call.
I got off the elevator and Ruieta and the policeman were waiting. The officer said he needed to speak to me inside. We went in. and I offered him a seat on the couch and proceeded to sit-down in my easy chair, placing my newspaper on the table beside me. (It is still in that place one year later.) I still was not sure what it was all about, but I knew it might be serious.
He said, “I’m afraid I have some bad news for you.’” At that moment I knew and I knew it was about Mark.
“Your son, Mark, was found dead in his apartment this morning. I am sorry for your loss.” I was floored with this absolute bombshell. The worst nightmare was true. An emptiness flooded over my heart and stomach.. I asked immediately if there was foul play involved. He told me that it looked natural.
He then gave me the name and phone number of the detective handling the case. I thanked him and he left. Ruieta came in. I told her the news and said I needed to make some phone calls.
I called the number and got the Hackensack Police Department. I told the officer who I was and the detective whom I needed to speak to. The officer said that the detective was still on the scene, and he would call my back right away. I finally got the call and he outlined that Mark was found on his floor. There was no fowl play. His body would be taken to the morgue for an autopsy.
I then called Doe. She was coming out of her hobby job work place. I ask her if anyone had contacted her. By the tone of her voice I knew she did not know. I broke the news to her. I gave her the details. as I knew them/ and the phone numbers. Naturally she was in shock. I told her to go home immediately. The Eden Prairie [olice contacted her later and said they had been there but there was nobody home. We both want to thank the Hackensack Police Department, the Coronado Police Department and the Eden Prairie Police Department for their sensitive handling of this terrible situation. I imagine this may be the worst part of their jobs.
Later, I was able to piece together part of the story. Mark died on Monday night of a heart attack. The death certificate stated it was a result of a long time development of coronary heart disease. I had told both my boys that they had a heredity factor going for them because I had a heart attack at forty-four years of age. It was a fact that Mark didn’t take care for his physical health. He had heredity against him, he was greatly overweight, his diet and exercise were that of a couch potato, he smoked, his job was high stress with high stress travel. The sad part, if he had taken better care of himself, he might be alive today.
On Tuesday morning Mark did not show up for work. This was totally out of pattern for him. No one could reach him by phone, text or email. On Wednesday morning, once again he wasn’t there. His boss, Paul Yoo, now knew he had to find out why Mark was not there.
He drove to Mark’s apartment and contacted the manager. He told her of his concerns. She said that in these cases the police needed to be called to insure that if there was foul play, evidence would be secure. The detectives came and the manager let them in. Mark was on the floor with no life. I figured that he died either before midnight of the 11th or the morning of the 12th. In any event it was over night between the 11th and 12th, and does it really matter. I consider his death was when I got the word.
The manager later told Doe that Paul stood outside the door, acting as almost a protector and sentry. She offered him a chair, but he refused. The next morning the LG company flag flew at half mast in honor of Mark Arnold. We will forever be grateful to Paul and all of his co-workers. Paul and several of Mark’s close friends attended his Memorial service later.
I have my concerns about Facebook, but I found perhaps it is a most valuable tool for anyone in my position. His last post was a pinup shot of a beautiful young lady he had photographed the day before at his photography group. I was able to read posts to his page about the feelings of his friends and co-workers about him. I never read one without crying a little. Still do, because he still gets a post every so often. I still communicate by posting little things that I knew he would be interested in.He was truly loved by anyone who knew him.
As time moved forward, It was Doe who took over all of the tasks that needed to be done to move time forward. I will be forever grateful for all she did. I felt guilt that I couldn't do more, but that’s the process that moved the terrible tasks forward to its finality. It was way she wanted it. She has always been one who needs to control. It was also it is her way of coping. Keep busy. She did the best job given the task of anyone in the world. My other son, Tim, who is an attorney. helped his Mom with the legal matters.
I wish Doe and Tim would write their stories of this tragic time for our family. It would complete the the story..
I have lived a most blessed life. Mark’s death is the only real tragedy I have ever encountered, but it is all part of life.
Thanks for listening.
Sam
I finished my usual exercise routine, spoke to Jimmy, the attendant, picked up a copy of the local Coronado Eagle Journal and went out the door and up the stairs into the warm sunshine. As I reached the top of the stairs, my phone rang. It was about 10:45. It was my friend, Ruieta. She said there was a policeman who wanted to speak with me, I told him I would be right there and proceeded to walk to my building and up the elevator. I still had no clue why a policeman would want to talk to me. I wondered if he needed to talk to me about a friend who might be in some trouble.Yes, I do have friends that could be in trouble.
Note: Ruieta later told me that she was scheduled to visit a few of the units her family owned. She planned to make my building her last stop, but for some reason she changed her mind and came to my building first. She usually parks in the parking structure, but today parked out the front entrance to the lobby. When she went inside the policeman was there looking for me. They did not have my cell number at the desk. She spoke up and said she had my phone number. The officer made that fateful call.
I got off the elevator and Ruieta and the policeman were waiting. The officer said he needed to speak to me inside. We went in. and I offered him a seat on the couch and proceeded to sit-down in my easy chair, placing my newspaper on the table beside me. (It is still in that place one year later.) I still was not sure what it was all about, but I knew it might be serious.
He said, “I’m afraid I have some bad news for you.’” At that moment I knew and I knew it was about Mark.
“Your son, Mark, was found dead in his apartment this morning. I am sorry for your loss.” I was floored with this absolute bombshell. The worst nightmare was true. An emptiness flooded over my heart and stomach.. I asked immediately if there was foul play involved. He told me that it looked natural.
He then gave me the name and phone number of the detective handling the case. I thanked him and he left. Ruieta came in. I told her the news and said I needed to make some phone calls.
I called the number and got the Hackensack Police Department. I told the officer who I was and the detective whom I needed to speak to. The officer said that the detective was still on the scene, and he would call my back right away. I finally got the call and he outlined that Mark was found on his floor. There was no fowl play. His body would be taken to the morgue for an autopsy.
I then called Doe. She was coming out of her hobby job work place. I ask her if anyone had contacted her. By the tone of her voice I knew she did not know. I broke the news to her. I gave her the details. as I knew them/ and the phone numbers. Naturally she was in shock. I told her to go home immediately. The Eden Prairie [olice contacted her later and said they had been there but there was nobody home. We both want to thank the Hackensack Police Department, the Coronado Police Department and the Eden Prairie Police Department for their sensitive handling of this terrible situation. I imagine this may be the worst part of their jobs.
Later, I was able to piece together part of the story. Mark died on Monday night of a heart attack. The death certificate stated it was a result of a long time development of coronary heart disease. I had told both my boys that they had a heredity factor going for them because I had a heart attack at forty-four years of age. It was a fact that Mark didn’t take care for his physical health. He had heredity against him, he was greatly overweight, his diet and exercise were that of a couch potato, he smoked, his job was high stress with high stress travel. The sad part, if he had taken better care of himself, he might be alive today.
On Tuesday morning Mark did not show up for work. This was totally out of pattern for him. No one could reach him by phone, text or email. On Wednesday morning, once again he wasn’t there. His boss, Paul Yoo, now knew he had to find out why Mark was not there.
He drove to Mark’s apartment and contacted the manager. He told her of his concerns. She said that in these cases the police needed to be called to insure that if there was foul play, evidence would be secure. The detectives came and the manager let them in. Mark was on the floor with no life. I figured that he died either before midnight of the 11th or the morning of the 12th. In any event it was over night between the 11th and 12th, and does it really matter. I consider his death was when I got the word.
The manager later told Doe that Paul stood outside the door, acting as almost a protector and sentry. She offered him a chair, but he refused. The next morning the LG company flag flew at half mast in honor of Mark Arnold. We will forever be grateful to Paul and all of his co-workers. Paul and several of Mark’s close friends attended his Memorial service later.
I have my concerns about Facebook, but I found perhaps it is a most valuable tool for anyone in my position. His last post was a pinup shot of a beautiful young lady he had photographed the day before at his photography group. I was able to read posts to his page about the feelings of his friends and co-workers about him. I never read one without crying a little. Still do, because he still gets a post every so often. I still communicate by posting little things that I knew he would be interested in.He was truly loved by anyone who knew him.
As time moved forward, It was Doe who took over all of the tasks that needed to be done to move time forward. I will be forever grateful for all she did. I felt guilt that I couldn't do more, but that’s the process that moved the terrible tasks forward to its finality. It was way she wanted it. She has always been one who needs to control. It was also it is her way of coping. Keep busy. She did the best job given the task of anyone in the world. My other son, Tim, who is an attorney. helped his Mom with the legal matters.
I wish Doe and Tim would write their stories of this tragic time for our family. It would complete the the story..
I have lived a most blessed life. Mark’s death is the only real tragedy I have ever encountered, but it is all part of life.
Thanks for listening.
Sam
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