Posted on by Julie Deziel

Hidden

Shinedown “Through The Ghost” posted at the end of the blog. Feel free to play it will reading. Very thought provoking song. I do not own the rights to the music.

Who as a child did not play the game of hide and seek. Oh the excitement as you waited as they counted to ten or twenty and heard the words; ready or not here I come.” Holding your breathe so they did not hear you as they looked behind the couch and you may have even shut your eyes believing that by doing so you became invisible and there was absolutely no way they could ever find you.

Through the years I cannot deny I have simply wanted to shut my eyes and pretend I am invisible, that I do not exist, that I am a ghost that not a single soul can see me. I have tried to hide myself away from all that I encounter just so they will not know me…as I know me.

I boast oftentimes that I am the “queen of the mask” and I have drawers full of different ones. I can pull one out at the drop of a hat, for any situation. I do this so that I can hide myself away. I can find a way to cope with all that I hear through the 911s I hear. I can cover myself with the dust of an old mask of anxiety as I wait for the next tragedy. The tragedy of it all is that I no longer see myself. It seems the color of who am is blank. The senselessness and hopelessness has overtaken the color of my soul.

I am pained that through all the aid given, all the proper authority that has been sent, all the abuse taken by the upset and angry individuals, and all the tears cried with the hurt and desperate that the world with never know me as I once knew me…for I live within a shell of a ghost. It is easier to hide myself away. I have found that shadows allow me to live and function forward. The world will not know me as I had once known me. Time has taken its toll. I will remain behind the shadows as I take my place behind the mic where the only part of me exposed is my voice. My voice is my mask and the callers becomes a part of my army of ghosts that I will live through tomorrow. Excuse me. The line is ringing once again that I cannot hide from. “911, where is your emergency?”

Posted on by Julie Deziel

A Hard Season

*click on song below to play while you read*

The perfect home for the long awaited season. My husband has enjoyed deer hunting since he was a young child. He has passed on his passion to his oldest son who is passing it on to his sons. For many in our neck of woods it is a tradition that is planned meticulously for months. Lists made, food planned, the perfect spot picked out, and the stand put up. The hours of sitting and waiting for the perfect “one” and the talk of the big ones that got away. The season will go on for approximately two weeks and the venison will be packed in the freezer and those lucky enough to get the trophy buck will have it hung on the wall much to the chagrin of the spouse.

I have watched my extremely strong, independent daughter build the life she wanted with the perfect fit for her. They shared twelve years together with most of them laughing and cementing the strong marital bond that many would be jealous of. They brought their long-awaited son home and the perfect home was laid out with the three of them. Their little home was set…until tragedy stuck like a bullet cursing through the fall air on opening deer hunting.

We as parents take our children through maybe trials in life; potty training, that scary first day of kindergarten, first loves followed by the first breakups. We kiss their ownies, love them through the long nights of high fevers, chase the monsters out of the bedroom and hours of horrendous homework. We are there to make it all better no matter what. What do you though as a parent who cannot make your children better when major tragedy hits? How do you fix it for your child whose grief is so heavy?

I have entered that long, hard season with her. The loss of her husband is the one horror that cannot be chased out of the room. I have no kisses to make this pain go away. I sit here at a complete loss. I feel as if my hands are tied behind my back. I am at a complete loss because I cannot mother away her pain. My baby hurts immensely and my instinct is to run immediately every day to her and just rock her and make it better. I can sit with her and wait with her but her love will not return. Her love will not be anticipated for supper at the end of the day. His stories will not be shared anymore. Her trophy hangs on the wall never aging, always young.

The season will not end after two weeks. It will last for an eternity. I will always want to make her better but I will not be able to. I will climb the mountain with her and sit beside her in silence waiting and wishing there was a way for a mommy to make it all better.

Grief is a hard season and I cannot save her. Plain.And.Simple.

Posted on by Julie Deziel · 2 Comments

A Job Well Done

My grandfather Lonny, was a farmer for many years of his life. They had many cows that they milked and tended. They put up hay, grew and combined corn and wheat. His wife cooked for her family and farmhands. His two children did the normal chores about the farm. He has seen a change from horse and 2 bottom plow to large combines in his years. When they sold the farm he become a salesman for numerous companies but his most coveted was as a Culligan Salesman having won numerous sales awards for the company. He was awarded “World’s Greatest Salesman” through them numerous times. Later in life he worked as a senior companion visiting those that were alone or needed time out of the house, he absolutely loved that job. He had to give that job up when he no longer could drive. It broke his heart to say goodbye to his clients who became his friends. He then became a receiver in the program and treasured two of his companions-Merle and Doug. He would tell anyone who he would visit to never complain about work because “one day you won’t be able to and you will wish you could.” He would say if he had his driver’s license he would still be taking the elderly out or simply enjoying a cup of coffee with them.

This man had a memory that was spot on. He was a historian of not only his life but so many other lives. It was always a treat to sit and listen to his stories. As he lay in his bed at the nursing home that became home for the last three months wondering if his days were dwindling he recounted so many aspects of his life. Four days before he died was laying in the hospital he was able to mouth all the words of the Gettysburg Address while I read it to him and then recite out loud a Longfellow poem “A Village Blacksmith” that he learned in 7th grade.

As he had a sudden illness on Tuesday he had to make a decision in his care. He spoke with his doctor and myself and being of sound, EXTREMELY sound mind he chose to do nothing and move towards comfort care knowing that he may only have hours. He had goals, plans, and recipes to cook in the very near future. He was hoping to move to assisted living from the nursing home in February. He had a new blanket he was saving for when he went home, be it his own home or assisted living. Simply, there were many things ahead for the soon-to-be 100-year-old man.

How does anyone take in the words that life will soon be over for them and move forward to acceptance? As the granddaughter to watch the struggle I must say was simply heartbreaking. I needed him to be at peace. I needed him to be comfortable. I needed him to feel loved. He set the pace, the tone, and the rules. He had total charge of his death as he did his whole life. What an incredible honor of be able to give him that. So in his time we reminisced and he put his affairs all in order. We planned how to carry out his wishes after death. We cried a lot about what was to come and most importantly we laughed. I heard stories I never heard before. I saw spark in his eyes when he talked about my grandmother and dancing with her. He was sorry he would not celebrate his 100th birthday on February 21st but looked forward to celebrating with his wife and friends but more than anything he was waiting for Mary, his daughter, to come get him. He knew she would come.

While I waited from Tuesday morning for him on his terms to leave this earth to join Mary to walk into eternity I stayed by his side. He asked to never be alone. He was always there for me in my life and I would honor him at the end of his by sitting and holding his hand, talking in his ear, playing country music in his ear, or rubbing his legs until he took his last quiet breath holding a can a beer the staff had placed for him just the way he wanted. I walked him outside with the funeral home at 0115 into the crisp air wishing I could wrap him in his coat where 6 days prior him and I walked out to the car to go on an outing and he pulled his coat a little tighter around him in the cold. I was sad for me, oh so sad, but I was so happy for him. He had completed his job and made it home with his new blanket and seeing all those that loved him immensely and the one person he truly was excited to see again was his mother who he had not seen for 95 years. He did it. He did it his way, in his time, his way and very peaceful. Job well done.

So, Boppy through all your hard work and losses you had in life, the times of loneliness, the times of joy and laughter and through the last 5 days of your most wonderful life and as I promised you “I am happy for you”, “I will not forget your memories” and “We will be okay” I will live your rule in life…just have to take it as it comes.

Alonzo Benbo 2/21/1920 – 2/8/2020 Until I see you again. Dolly