When you’re spinning ‘round things come undone…Welcome to Earth, Third Rock from the Sun………



Oh the absurdity of it all!

I think it was about the end of June this year when I had the following conversation in the local meet and greet grocery store, with a dear friend; an alcoholic in recovery, who kinda gave me the first clue that maybe, just maybe… my life was spinning out of control. But, as a certifiable control freak, it all made perfect sense to me.

Him: “So, how are you? I’ve been meaning to call you about dinner……….”

Me: “Well, you’d better hurry because I am about on my way outta town for about 6 weeks! Yeah, we’re going to our vacation condo in Tennessee for about half of the Summer. It should be fun. It’s so peaceful there on the river and of course, I get to spend tons of time with the grandbaby!” ::Beaming::

“Tam is throwing a huge fit because she doesn’t want to go. She hates flying. And…any change to her routine…..OH MY GAWD! We’re all going to suffer for it.”

“But, I am making her go because she can’t stay home by herself. Who’d manage her meds? You can’t trust her to do it! And…she simply won’t eat. She’s skin and bones and you practically have to fix the plate and put it in front of her face. Maybe even lift the fork for her.”

“Seriously, she’d be dead by the time I got home. Really, it would stink up the house. I just don’t want to deal with that kind of mess. The cats are bad enough! Besides, I just finished the remodeling.”

“She’s beggin me to stay home…..wants to have the house sitter take care of her and the cats. But I said, “Hell No!” and that’s ridiculous because he’s her ex-boyfriend and Heaven knows that wouldn’t work! Can you imagine? So she’s going. Like it or not. Maybe she can get Dr. Feelgood to give her some meds for the flight.”

Him: “Ummmmmm. Lisa……HOW old is Tammy now?”

Me: “She’s 35!”

I believe he looked at me like I was nuts. Incredulous may be the best descriptive word.

Waaaahat? I thought. This is my kid we’re talking about. I am the MOM…she’s the kid.

Should I really be surprised he didn’t call about our dinner date?


Ok…so then there was this other time this past Summer……………

It was about midnight and my now 16 year old Abbie had just got home from hanging out with her friends on that cool night. As usual, I gave her the standard law-enforcement once-over, checking her eyes and breath. Considering the multitude of her experience in drugs and alcohol it was becoming routine on both of our parts. Having not smelled any hint of alcohol, perhaps because of the stench of nasty cigarette smoke emitting from her pretty mouth, I “let her go” and vowed to give her the handy-dandy home version, “pee in the cup” drug test in the morning.

Just as I was falling asleep I heard the angry screaming and the front door slam repeatedly. Ab was calling Tam every nasty name in the book, then going out on the front porch only to stumble back in, slam-the-beautiful-new-front-door-with-the leaded-glass-insert and have at her again. My GAWD girl do you eat with that potty mouth?

Alcohol. It had to be alcohol and I missed it!

My beautiful, but extremely wild Indian child can NOT do alcohol. With more than ½ Cheyenne/Cherokee blood coursing through her veins and an alcoholic Birth Mother, she absolutely CANNOT drink alcohol.

I’ve seen it from her before. Extremely Angry. Very ugly acting. Hateful. Depressed. Scary drunk.

So, I jumped out of bed and witnessed the most absurd exchange from my two girls, threatening to call the police if Abbie didn‘t calm her crazy self down, while Tam is trying to shoo me off to bed saying “I‘ll handle this!” Great. Just like the responsible adult she is! Again…Tam is 35 and Abbie is 16! Arrrggggghhh!

It seems that Abbie needed some cigarettes and asked Tam to drop them off to her at her friend’s house, in exchange for some of the marijuana Abbie has hidden in her bedroom. A swell deal for them both, I am sure.

But, as I know from 25 years of working in Corrections, there is NO DAMN HONOR AMONG THIEVES!

Abbie is screaming at Tammy for smoking ALL of it. Tammy is so “baked” that she can’t hardly respond, but says that there was only a little bit and she’s claiming Abbie’s too drunk to even know HOW MUCH marijuana she had left!

Having grown up with an alcoholic step-father, I know damn well there’s no arguing with a drunk. So, I continue to threaten to call the police on Abbie until she eventually realizes I mean business and I send everyone involved to separate corners..so to speak.

Once the drunk girl drifts off to sleep it off, I head to my room and cry once again. I think…….It’s all just so fuckin’ absurd. My life is spinning out of control and I just don’t know what to do.

And…that’s just a couple of the many situations that have caused me to seek help from Al-Anon.

The best part is…I am better. Much better now.

The girls? They are better too.

More later.

An Incredible Kindness

Recently, as you may be able to tell from my previous entry, I decided to join Al-Anon, which is a support group for family/friends of alcoholics/addicts. I will get to the dirty details in one of my future entries, but for now I want to share this from something I experienced at my 5th Al Anon meeting! I wrote this that night, but put it on my MySpace instead of my AOL journal.

It was an incredible kindness!



Tonight I attended my 5th Al Anon meeting!

I know this support group is exactly where I need to be right now-due to some incredibly painful family situations that have almost put me over the edge. Learning to let go of "control" for someone who's always been in charge, is a lesson that I am struggling with....one day at a time.

I truly seek the serenity of knowing that I can and should work on me and let those who are addicts in my life choose their own path, however distructive it may be.

Anyway, tonight during the meeting, I asked about how to obtain some specific literature that was mentioned and shown. I was told that there would be books available for purchase and complimentary pamphlets on display at the conclusion of our session.

I left my purse on my chair and headed around the corner to the display and was given a copy of the pamphlet I asked about, and began to check out the books available for purchase. There were two books that I wanted to buy to help me in my learning process. So, I asked the woman how much they were and if they took checks, saying I was sure I didn't have much more than 6 or 8 bucks in cash with me.

She disappeared around the corner to ask someone and upon her return she told me that they could only take cash. She offered to let me pay what I could now and return with the balance owed next week. That was a workable solution in my eyes! These are some very trusting people.

It was then that I returned to my purse to get my money and found that I had more money than I realized. Sticking slightly out of a section of my purse with my folded money was a $20.00 bill.

I immediately felt puzzled as I just knew I didn't have that much money when I walked through the door! Was I getting Alzheimer's? I was positive that I didn't have that money when I walked in but I gathered up my money and returned happily to pay for my new books.

I said to the lady, "Well, I guess I had more cash than I thought!" And....I happily left with my purchases. I truly believe that one of the women who was asked if "they" could take a check for my book selections, placed that cash in my purse tonight. (I have done similar things for others, so I am reaping the benefits at a time when I sooooo needed some loving kindness expressed to me and my hurting heart!)

You know...that was such an appreciated kindness. My heart is filled with deep gratitude for her kind gesture! I will continue to pay it forward!

Goodnight all! I am off to study my new books!

Blessings my friends! And may you provide someone with such a wonderful kindness at just the right moment!

Here's some quotes on Kindness!

"In helping others, we shall help ourselves, for whatever good we give out completes the circle and comes back to us." -- Flora Edwards

"There is no exercise better for the heart than reaching down and lifting people up." -- John Andrew Holmes

"Three things in human life are important. The first is to be kind. The second is to be kind. And the third is to be kind." -- Henry James"

Goodness is a special kind of truth and beauty. It is truth and beauty in human behavior." -- H. A. Overstreet

Motherboard Meltdown

The truth shall set you free, but at first it will make you miserable.

~Garfield




Hi. I'm Lisa.

If this were an Al-Anon meeting, this is where you'd collectively say, and say it with enthusiasm, "HI LISA!"

I am melting. Again.

For the past two days, my bruised ego and fragile psyche, which I am currently considering the motherboard of my emotions in my pea-sized, computer-like brain…….is dissolving into a puddle of molten hot tears, after bubbling to the surface with wretched, ugly, breath-taking sobs of pain, sprinkled liberally with the bitter taste of reality.

Reality bites. Hard.




In the book, Gentle Reminders-Daily Affirmations for Co-Dependents, by Mitzi Chandler, she writes…."There are many tears in the heart that never reach the eyes." She says tears are a way of expressing sadness and loss and they are meant to flow from us. When they are trapped in the deep pockets of our hearts, they form a pool and weigh us down. I have finally unlocked the floodgates. I know I won't drown, but damn it, I've been choking on that flood of emotion.

This is supposed to happen.

The very ugly truth is making me miserable. And…..the recent loving reality checks have caused me to sit up and take notice on my behavior and motives. All of this is meant to help me as I struggle with this business of life, working through my grief, to grow and change. Out of this grief, comes my salvation.

This motherboard meltdown has occurred after several weeks of riding the recent exhilarating wave of expanding my consciousness with the processes of recovery in my quest for sanity and serenity via Al-Anon's Twelve Step Program for family and friends of alcoholics/addicts.
Considering the fact that I'd been a long time advocate of self-help books, therapy and totally open to the concept that I was the one creating my own reality, it didn't take me long to whole-heartedly absorb the many messages of Al-Anon, and to excitedly put the principles to work in my pathetic, unmanageable life after almost crawling in to my first meeting about 8 weeks ago.

I had the proverbial "Ah-ha" moment. I was a sponge, soaking up the information and messages that hit my ice-cream padded home base with such force I was thinking I was FREE. LAWD ALMIGHTY, HALLELUJAH!!! I SEE THE LIGHT! I was working the program, using the slogans, most importantly minding my own business and changing, r-e-a-l-l-y changing.

Somehow, I dared to think that I totally "got it!"

WRONG.

My grip on reality was temporarily hijacked. I now recognize that in the past few days I had some scary moments of attempting to force a situation instead of "Letting Go and Letting God!" Al-Anon teaches that there is a natural order to life-a chain of events that God has in mind and my obsessive interference will disrupt those events and my connection with my own spiritual self.

Oh how I wish, that like a computer, I could turn back time and reset my "self" to a few weeks ago, when I was blissfully working my steps, instead of being distracted by my inner child's need for a Prince Charming on his white horse to whisk me away, where I'd live happily ever after. For a few wonderful days it was a safe haven, during my visit with that hard-fought and now weathered Knight in Rusting Armor; complete with a broken sabre. Someone who'd had his own recent spiritual awakening and was learning to live again.

Completely smitten, I probably could have stayed forever. He however, would have probably liked to ask me for a date first. Sometime. Maybe. Now I feel like an idiot. WTH was I thinkin? Clearly, I wasn't thinking at all.




God was showing me expectancy….the expectancy of good and wonder in my life. And….instead of receiving the message as a whole, I was creating expectations of a future, riding high on those incredible gifts presented to me.

But in reality, since I can't turn back the clock to a few weeks ago……I know I wouldn't change a thing. I am thankful and humbled by this learning experience.

Al-Anon has been and is now my anchor, stabilizing the rocky vessel of my soul that had been dangerously close to being sucked in the dark abyss after the straw broke the camel's back on certain strained family relations. The emotionally devastating breakdown of my most precious family relationships was in reality a necessary intervention. A huge gift.

It was a gigantic thump on my thick-head, which caused me to finally see the destructiveness that drugs and alcohol had played in my life since the earliest days of my childhood. And…most importantly…my role and contributions to the problems in our family situations and relationships. It hasn't been pretty but I am human.

I walk in to my Al-Anon meetings grateful that I am getting help with my problems of co-dependency. I know my growth and recovery in the process is going to take a long time. I haven't "got it" yet! It is just the beginning of my latest journey to self-discovery, self-love and managing my life.

Goethe said, "As soon as you trust yourself, you will know how to live." This recovery process is causing me to unravel, as I learn the how and why of my behavior. I must trust the process, trust myself, continue to heal, and believe that darkness will turn to light. Glorious bright light.

And who knows? That weathered warrior-who could actually be my Prince Charming-just may be there waiting for me someday.

I am fine........for the most part!!!

Dear Journal Friends!  I am back, and fine!  Thanks for your concern and comments!  I apologize for disappearing as it were!  So much has/is going on that I put my journal at the bottom of my priorities!  So much to tell and there's so much to write about!  And, I think my retirement funk is about lifting..after all this time...as it's been nearly two years!  So, I may join you a little more frequently now!  If any of you regulars have MySpace, and want to befriend me, I am spending some time there as well.  Please send me an email here at the AOL with your MySpace info so we can connect!

Love and Peace!

Lisa

My "Ah-ha" Moment

Years ago, I had a very simple, yet important life lesson that I’ve NEVER forgotten. Because I was horribly embarrassed by my stupidity and the shame of the incident back then, I didn’t share it with anyone, until yesterday. It was just perfect timing to tell the story to Abbie and her friend Katie, as we drove back to home from Bakersfield.

But…first I will share the old life lesson that would forever change my thinking and behavior………….

While returning from a long, boring trip down Interstate-5 from Sacramento and having smoked way too many cigarettes to help pass the time, I stopped for some fresh air and a bite to eat at Anderson’s Pea Soup Restaurant. It’s a popular tourist stop along the highway, with a large gift shop and super clean restrooms.

I pulled into a parking place, and noticed how full the ashtray was in my car. I still had a couple hours to drive, and I knew the ashtray couldn’t hold much more. I opened the door of my fancy, Nissan 280Z sports car and casually dumped the nasty, smelly cigarette butts out on the ground and then I started to snap the ashtray back in place.

It was then I heard his elevated voice and looked into his knowing eyes. “PIG!” the older gentleman said disgustedly as he stared at me and my pile of litter with awful contempt! He then walked away as I lowered my head in shame!

As Oprah says, “It was my Ah-ha moment!“ What was I thinking? Why did I so casually spill such offending litter on the grounds of a public place? As a child, I was a Girl Scout, and we were taught to leave every place we visited, better than we found it. Leave nothing but footprints, our leaders would say!

Being called a such a derogatory name rocked me to my very soul. The shame I felt for being so careless with Mother Earth and my surroundings was HUGE!

NEVER, EVER in my life would I allow anything more than a teardrop to fall to the ground! Thus began my life’s mantra! It was something I’d teach my children, without revealing the story until now.

Whenever we finished playing at the park, I’d make them pick up other people’s trash to leave the place better than we found it! They’d always grumble, but Papa and I would also do our part. While at work, rather than stepping over litter, and walking by, I’d pick it up and place it in the nearest trashcan.

So, today I pay attention to litter along the highways and wonder how people can carelessly drop trash along our beautiful roads. My younger children and I have participated in picking up trash and debris along the roads during our town’s organized efforts. I am always amazed at the bags of trash that accumulate along roadways, when community minded souls do their part.

And…yesterday, I was being my community minded self….a totally reformed litterER. I just had to do it. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity!!!

Here’s what happened……..

As we were stuck in Bakersfield’s early evening traffic, waiting to turn onto the freeway, Abbie commented with the appropriate amount of indignation, about a woman in a car opposite of us as she intentionally dropped a wadded up piece of paper out of her car window. I perked up, looked and saw the rather large piece of paper on the ground next to her car as she waited in stopped traffic.

I couldn’t believe my eyes when she carelessly DID IT AGAIN as I glared at her with all the disgust I could muster.

Her male passenger noticed me staring, pointed it out to her and she turned to look at me.

I powered down my window and yelled “PIG!” directly at her.

It was at that point that Abbie began to panic as the woman, who happened to be African-American, turned incredibly animated. Abbie was aghast that I would confront someone of her ethnicity, and she thought we’d be shot any second! She was begging me to mind my own business! I was undeterred! It didn’t matter to me what color this careless person was, nor was I concerned for my safety.

I simply yelled “PIG” again and powered up my window as the young, crazy-acting woman proceeded to berate me for confronting her about her misdeed.

I just smiled as I couldn’t hear her!

After working in a prison for 25 years, I don’t get too excited about much. So I calmly looked at her, and gave her the best obscene gesture I’ve ever done! A SOLID, FIRM MIDDLE FINGER, WITH THE APPROPRIATE AMOUNT OF SMIRK TO GO ALONG WITH IT!

It was soooo unlike me, but so damn satisfying!! The light then changed to green and I drove on to the freeway headed home.

It was then I shared the story of my dumping the cigarettes on the ground all those years ago. The girls and I had a lot of laughs as we headed back up the mountain.

Abbie said she doubted that the young woman I called a PIG had quite the same life changing reaction that I did.

Oh well, I tried!

And…..in closing, a reminder……..PLEASE DON’T LITTER!!

Easter/Spring Blessings,

Lisa

Happy February 6th!

I could think of worse things to die from than endometrial cancer.

Fire would probably top the list. Yeah, I definitely do not want to die by fire or even be slightly singed at the outskirts of some colorful dancing flames, toasting whatever happens to be in its path.

Drowning has never appealed to me either, but from what they say, it can be rather peaceful. Just exactly how did “they” make that determination?

However, my idea of peaceful, is being about oh……85 semi-healthy years old and one sunny morning, the cheerful staff in my beautifully assisted living community enter my room (<remember that my dear children) to give me my first daily dose of meds and discover that I’ve died quietly in the night. Simple, quiet and hopefully not too messy. What in the death department could possibly be more pleasant than that?

So, where is she going with all of this morbid talk you might ask? I am getting there. I am just pretty slow when I am this depressed. Besides all the drama makes for a good story and maybe someday my great, great, great children will want to read it.

Anyway, February 6, 2007 was a pretty shitty day for both me and my eldest child. It just so happens it was her 34th birthday and I was not emotionally or physically able to function well enough to get it together for a card, much less presents or cake and ice cream. I’ve promised a better, and big celebration later, but if it’s one thing my kids KNOW about me, is I expect at least somewhat of a remembrance on THE DAY and then we can have the additional party later. Tam has grown up with the same expectation. I and most of her other loved ones, really let her down.

In her heart of hearts, I know that she fully understands that it was hard for me to be in a partying mood. Considering at the gynecologist that morning, he used some foot long torture device, without the benefit of anesthesia to clip a sample of my uterus for a biopsy. A biopsy is necessary because women who are post menopausal and suddenly begin bleeding again are presenting symptoms that MAY be cancer he so eloquently explained. Since that was the 2nd biopsy for such symptoms in as little as two years, I would have rather elected for the hysterectomy at that point, but he said he hadn’t scheduled quite enough time during that appointment. Instead, he tortured me. I didn’t like it last time, and I sure as HELL didn’t think it felt any better this time. So, I spent the rest of the day in bed, somewhat in her honor. Since it was her birthday and everything. I swear though, childbirth----breech childbirth in Tam’s case------ was easier than a uterine biopsy-with uh….two samples for good measure!!!!

Always thinking’ I said to the good doctor….”So Doc, let’s just say this doesn’t come back as cancer and considering this is the 2nd time in a two year period that I’ve had uterine bleeding without a positive diagnosis for cancer…….how about that we just do a hysterectomy anyway??”

He looked at me like there were worse things in life to put up with than wearing a maxi-pad at 53 years old and said absolutely NOT.

Okay, I said….thinking that I’ve got ammo for you and your HMO and I am not afraid to use it…….try this………….TWO, YES TWO SISTERS WHO HAVE DIED OF CANCER AT THE AGE OF 39. I don’t think for a minute that a prophylactic surgery such as that is an unreasonable thing to consider. Especially when most women who get uterine cancer are between 40-60 years old.

Anyway, at this point I am going to wait for the results of my torture test and then we’ll take it from there. In the mean time, would you say a little prayer for me and some big HAPPY BIRTHDAY’S TO TAMMY!

Love you all, Lisa

 

Hello Again

To my dear internet friends who've inquired, I am still here. 

I've been somewhere between enjoying my retirement and a recluse, yet not feeling motivated to write.  It's not for a lack of subject material, because so much has happened since I last took the time to pour out my thoughts and despair. 

(Geez...August of 2006 was my last entry here in my beloved AOL journal)

Perhaps it's a good thing that I haven't felt the overwhelming urge to purge (no pun intended) my brain of those life experiences and enter them here for my later review.  Maybe I have appropriately dealt with any of the issues that have caused me hurt or pain.  I am certainly giving it my best shot. 

My outlook on life, my life in particular, teeters back and forth between outstanding ("How can you get any more positive?" says Ab) and some down time that my therapist says is my inner child needing comfort.  The rational adult in me has decided it's way past time to take off these extra pounds-more of which have accumulated since "retiring."  I am shocking my body by actually doing some housework....and um.....exercise, plus eating Atkin's style, since that seems to work for me.  

 I have been in a vicious circle of reclusive behavior-hiding from friends and former co-workers due to my weight-which has added more weight and the tendency to be even more reclusive, since I live in a very small town.

Now, I have my kids do the grocery shopping.  As a certified control freak, that was a real change.  At first it was an effort to get them to participate in the home making/house keeping process as I was "retired." Then I got where I really liked not having that chore......putting each item in my cart...taking each item out of the cart to put it on the cashier's carousel, loading all of it up in the car, taking it out of the car, and unpacking it to put it all away.  Arrgggghhh!  Then, my lack of activity led to me being housebound, when I wasn't traveling-and all of this, including a fondness for everything sweet, contributed to the weight gain.

It's time for a big change.  I am determined.  I've even started a daily food journal. 

Well, better go for now as I have a meeting regarding Ab's school.

Oh and later....I will tell you about my incredible, beautiful grandson, Slade Harrison Flyboy.  <---ficticious last name of course.

Take care!

Here kitty, kitty......

Sometimes it takes something bizarre like falling off a baby grand piano to get one in the mood for writing. Yeah, I did that today. It was a spectacular fall and worthy of a whole story in itself. Instead, I feel like bitching about my life. So, indulge me. I could’a died today. And if that’s not enough, yesterday….I had a colonoscopy!

Because my 14 year old daughter has been experimenting with a variety of illegal substances and enjoying drugs which have not been prescribed to her, I took her to a substance abuse counselor. As my know-it-all teenage girl who-has-enough-pharmaceutical-knowledge-to-pass-the-state-board-test-on-the-first-try-does not believe she has a problem and that all adults are aliens and full of alien green shit, she; according to the counselor, would not benefit from counseling at this time.

Instead I was referred to a counselor to deal with my codependence issues. Pretty much, we meet once a week, which is what I‘ve done on Ab‘s summer vacation.

My counselor suggested I read Codependence-THE DANCE of WOUNDED SOULS-A Cosmic Perspective of Codependence and the Human Condition.

The author, Robert Burney, is said to be a non-clinical, non-traditional therapist-a healer, teacher and Spiritual guide whose private practice is based upon the Twelve Step Recovery principles. He specializes in codependence counseling with emphasis on emotional honesty, grief processing and inner child work-while teaching individuals how to become empowered by having internal boundaries.

Being the ‘highly functioning depressed’ person that I am, I continue to be open to the possibility of growth through my life experiences and the written word even if I am supposed to look at those experiences and my reactions to them through the eyes of my “inner child.”

The author says that in modern psychology, researcher began to understand how profoundly the emotional trauma of early childhood affects a person as an adult. He said that they realized that if not healed, these early childhood emotional wounds, and the sub-conscious attitudes adopted because of them, would dictate the adult’s reaction to, and path through life. So, he says, we walk around looking and trying to act like adults, while reacting to life out of the deep emotional wounds and attitudes of childhood.

So, I suppose that it was my 7 year old inner child that threw a gigantic,screamin’ hissy fit today when I found out this morning that my beloved indoor kitty, Grayson was missing after being left outside all night.

The pain is unbearable. My kitty is lost. He’s never coming back. No, I don’t want another kitty. I want Grayson. He’s soft and he loves being carried like a baby.

It’s the stern adult mother in me who wants to strangle my adult daughter who began allowing Grayson to go out on the front porch with her while she smokes, despite me telling her repeatedly not to let him go outside. It got where she’d let him stay out there longer and longer, as he’d be soaking up the sun or enjoying the fresh air while cooling off under the bench on our front porch. He won’t leave she said.

Today, she’s saying, “He’ll come back Mom!”

The money conscious adult in me is counting every dime I’ve spent keeping that cat alive in the past two years.

The little girl is saying “Who cares about what it costs! Just bring him home to me! Let’s put up flyers! Can we offer a reward for his return?” as she continues to cry.

Have you seen my pretty kitty?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On the road again..........

I have more stories in my head about my recent Oklahoma visit, but I will have to get to them later as I am off again tomorrow on another trip!  Gosh this retirement life is exhausting!  I'm heading to the outskirts of Nashville to find my new dream home, near Fly Boy's house. Now that I have a laptop with wireless connection, I may be able to do a few entries while I'm gone.  If not, I will catch up with everything when I get back!  Take care everyone!   

He's Home Again

We arrived at the well-kept old cemetery just a few minutes late for our appointment after experiencing some minor problems with the directions we were provided. Seems there’s more than one road with the same name leading to different places. We wanted the country road with the same name that didn’t run next to the railroad tracks.

Despite the many times I’d been there with my father, I would not have been able to find it on my own, so we were thankful for the basic directions and the fact everyone involved had cell phones.

As a California girl, I had to laugh at our situation which sounded just like one of those commercials I’ve heard…..Ok…you are going to come to a fork in the road, actually 3 forks…you don’t want to turn on that first one…just go about 50 yards till you come to the second fork and turn left there. If you find that you are at the top of the hill…there’s an old white house with a green tractor in the field…you have gone too far. So turn around and go back to the corner and turn right…No white house on the corner? It’s a two story red brick with a big stack of hay in the field? Ok….I know exactly where you are. Just stop right there and I will come and get ‘ya!

Mr. Reese, the caretaker for Upper Camp Creek Cemetery looked as if he was in his 70s and appeared to be in much better shape physically than any of us. His face was weathered from years at the “Highway Department” from which he’d retired. He stood tall and strong on that sunny Monday morning, as he thrust the post hole digger into the red Eastern Oklahoma soil where so many of my ancestors are buried.

He had a genuine reverence for the departed and their families, giving his sympathy for our “loss.” Before he started digging at the exact spot I‘d selected between the headstones of my infant half-brothers, he asked my permission to use that particular tool since our urn measured only about 3 inches high. It seemed a perfect choice to me. I certainly wasn’t expecting a bull dozer for this little chore, but I guess he felt we might find a post hole digger somewhat irreverent. My only concern was that the hole was deep enough at about 2 and a half feet. Mr. Reese assured me that it would be fine and secure with the granite headstone I was about to order, in place right above. As if on cue, Mr. Reese gave us a few minutes alone.

My Uncle Lee handed me the urn, and after a minute or so, I passed it to my Aunt Mary to hold, which was my idea of some type of ceremony. When she handed it back, I dropped to my knees and gently placed Papa’s urn in his beloved Oklahoma resting place. I scraped some of the red dirt over it with my hands and rose to my feet when Mr. Reese appeared with a shovel and asked if I wanted to use it. With tears in my eyes, I pulled more of the earth over my father’s ashes, then passed it to Lee for his turn.

I was burying a part of my father, but they were burying a sibling; someone they’d had in their life for so much longer than I. My heart ached for them to have experienced such a loss and such difficult grief; a feeling I know too well having buried two of my sisters in the past few years.

We each thanked Mr. Reese with a donation to the fund for the upkeep of the cemetery, which he gladly accepted. We then headed to town to purchase the granite marker, which Mr. Reese offered to place at no charge.

I left Eastern Oklahoma knowing that I accomplished something that my father always wanted, a final resting place near where he was born.  Because as he neared death in August 2004, he wanted to make things easier on his family by saying “Just cremate me and bury me here in California.”

I think he’d be proud to know I was able to do both.