for Hallows' remembering this year. Between my mom and my grandmother, each who basically raised me, I learned the strength of being a woman and what it means to find that strength deep down in the pit of your stomach. To really *listen* to your intuition, to remember and seek an understanding of dreams (from my Irish grandmother), and to catch the spark of light like fire off the nearest herb bush (again, there's the old Country). My great-grandfather, an American Indian, taught me a lot and gave me a deep, life long activism in politics. But it was the women in the family that really brought us back to the Earth... whether they understood that's what they were doing, or not. Weird family -- everyone else is either Methodist, Baptist, or Evangelical. Although I think at this point, my sis may be leaning Pagan with me. The Evangelical side was so large and loud, they took over everything... I just changed the labels of whatever they were saying, and they thought I was totally agreeing with them! (hehe)
It's going to be hard... has been hard... not to pick up the phone to call. I went over every night after work before I made my commute home. Cooked her supper, straightened up the house, made sure she had all she needed before I headed out of town. Finally, we sold our house in KC to move up close to her when her memory started really getting bad. I am grateful, however hard it is to say, for her to not have lingered years and years with Alzheimer's. She loved computers, and I taught her HTML coding. Her mind had always been so sharp... keeping the house running even after Daddy died. Now, as my memory slows down at times, I'm reminded that the frustration and heartache I feel when it happens to me, was just magnified that much more with her and with that much more fear when it happens.
Growing old is NOT for the feint of heart!
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