A Love Story

Yesterday I went to Emporia to visit my Uncle Lawrence and Aunt Wanda. They are such a wonderful couple. I stayed and chatted with them for a couple of hours. It was a beautiful visit. I got to hear many stories about my Grandpa, who died before I was born. Uncle Lawrence, being four years older than my Dad, has different stories to tell, ones I had never heard before. They also told stories about my Uncle Willard, whose funeral I attended the day before my birthday last month. We discussed my job, my parents, my brother and all of their family. It was so sweet to listen to them tell stories together. The whole time, he would dote on her. At times holding her hand, getting her anything she needed. As it turns out, it was their 64th wedding anniversary that day. I was so happy to be able to be there on their special day.

This, however, is a bittersweet love story. The day of my Uncle Willard's funeral, we got the terrible news. Aunt Wanda had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and was given only 3-6 months to live. She has refused any treatment, not wanting to prolong the pain. She now spends most of her time in bed, which is where she was when I arrived yesterday. To see her weak and pale was heartbreaking. More heartbreaking was to see my Uncle Lawrence, a strong-willed, stubborn man-like all of the Palmers-in tears. She stayed strong throughout my visit, but he was weepy. You could see the distress all over his face. Here was his bride, the one person he had spent almost his whole life with, laying in bed, dying.

Uncle Lawrence said something very poignant. He told me that the man is supposed to die first. There was every reason why he should have been the one to go before her. He had smoked and drank. He was diabetic. He had a heart attack a few years back. Instead, she was going to go before him. The reason he thought it worked out this way touched me very deeply. He had to be there to take care of her.

He was doing a wonderful job taking care of her. Getting her medicine, rearranging her pillows and most importantly, holding her hand. And I got to witness it all first-hand. I feel that the bond between them is one of the strongest I have ever known. When Aunt Wanda passes, whenever that might be, I will remember yesterday and I will smile knowing that she was happy.

What Would They Find?

I was sitting on the couch yesterday, surveying my apartment. I got to thinking about what would happen if I died. What would my family find in my home? Would anything embarrass me? Well, let's just see.

Kitchen: There's an excessive amount of beer for one person. That's because I don't drink very often, but keep buying different kinds. The trash is pretty full and by the time someone found me, would probably be kind of stinky. There might be a dirty glass beside the sink, but the dish drainer will be FULL of dishes I've left to air dry. The fridge is a disaster. There's no organization whatsoever. Breakfast bar has a naked Chia Pet, fish tank, bowl of hard candy, bouquet of flowers, handcuffs and extra magazine case laying on it.

Living/Dining Room: Sunday paper laying on the sofa with cut-out coupons laying in various piles waiting to be filed. Stack of wedding magazines and my wedding notebook on the chaise. Can of wasp spray on the floor next to the patio door. Dining room table is very cluttered, I don't eat there, it's just a catch-all. Dottie's bag of hay, desk calendar, some mail, paint chips, pictures of wedding dresses and on it goes. VHS tapes stacked up on the floor because I haven't found a place to put them yet. Stereo and speakers disconnected and on floor because they don't fit in new entertainment cabinet. Three plastic totes full of stuff I haven't unpacked from the move. Empty cooler under the table because I have no where else to store it.

Guest Bathroom: Very clean (it's rarely used) but clothes hanging from every possible spot, waiting to be ironed. Door knob, towel rack, shower curtain rod all covered in clothes.

Hallway: More unironed clothed hanging from the doorknob of the utility closet.

Office: Stuff everywhere. Stacks of papers from an investigation currently being condcuted. Blank inspection forms. Stack of papers from a case I haven't filed yet. Notes on scraps of paper on both desks. Half-full bottle of water. Two pillows and comforter on the futon from the last time I had guests. Gun and badge laying on display shelf of work desk. Bottom drawer of file cabinet open about an inch. More unironed clothes hanging from doorknob.

Bedroom: Not too bad. Bed isn't made. Empty lemonade can on nightstand is about the worst part of the room. Dresser has jewelry, lip balm and eye drops. It's lived-in, but not messy.

Master Bathroom: You guessed it. More unironed clothes. Again hanging from the shower curtain rod and also on the hook on the back of the door. Makeup, two cosmetics bags, comb, ponytail holder, two hairclips, headband and new bottle of body wash all on the counter. Floor is undoubtedly covered in hair-I tend to lose a lot of hair! Trash can full of tissues and contact lens packaging.

All in all, I guess it's not that bad. If my family had to clean my apartment out, they wouldn't find anything shocking. But let's hope that never has to happen!

Divorce From a Friend

It's one thing to lose a friend because you grow apart and are just on different paths in life. It's much different when a friend does something so hurtful you just can't face him or her anymore. That is exactly what happened to me last week.

It all started with a wonderfully joyous occasion. My nephew, Mikey, as he will forever be known to me, became a father 2 weeks ago. As is the case when any baby is born, little Natalie was quickly dubbed "the cutest baby in the world". I sent out a pix message to several friends announcing her arrival. All but one of those friends replied with the usual "congrats" or "how cute". I didn't think much about the absence of the reply from my friend "T". I was too excited to really notice that one person among the throng of texters didn't share in my joy.

After a week had passed "T" texted me, wanting to know if I would be in town for dinner that Friday night. I replied that I didn't know what time I would be arriving, for I had a date to meet the cutest baby in the world. This, surprisingly, upset "T" since she has a 2 year old daughter who apparantly should never have been dethroned as cutest baby. At first, I thought she was joking as others had, that they had the cutest baby in their family. Keep in mind, this entire conversation is happening via text message, where tone and inflection do not exist. It became suddenly clear, however, that she was not amused. I tried to explain that this is just what people do when new babies arrive and that Natalie had actually dethroned her 8 month old cousin, Klaire, as cutest baby. That, it seemed, made things worse. "T" told me I could erase their contact information from my phone and that she was really hurt. I immediately tried to call her, but after 2 rings, I was directed to her voice mail. I left her a message saying I hoped she was joking and figured she would call me back.

Fast-forward one week. Still no phone call from "T". I had discussed the situation with several people including my fiance, who is also good friends with her, my parents, my niece, and other friends who do not know "T". All of them came to the conclusion that she had overreacted and was acting childish. I didn't want this misunderstanding to ruin our friendship, so I tried to call again. This time the phone rang 3 times before I was directed to her voice mail. I was very upset.

I called my fiance to tell him about it and to hash out my feelings. After a lengthy discussion with him, I made my decision. I would not try to call or text "T" anymore. I would, essentially, let the friendship die. I did not need somebody in my life who could not be happy for me at such a blissful time. I did not need somebody in my life who acted so selfishly and childlike. I certainly did not need somebody in my life who made me feel bad for so intensely loving my new great-niece. I deserve friends who support and love me. I would not stay in a romantic relationship with a similar person, so I will not stay in this relationship either.

Thankfully, in this divorce there is no property to divide, no contracts to dissolve, no custody battles to fight. There is, however, the same broken heart. The same feeling of loss. The same desire to move on with my chin up. And that is what I shall do.