Motherhood and Old Folks

WAR CAME HOME WHEN MY BROTHER DIED

bjr1973 — Thu, 04 Nov 2010 13:05:40 +0000

The day started no differently than any other that morning. I was getting ready for school, looking forward to all the things a 13-year old girl looks forward to. Little did I know that within the next 10 minutes my life would be dramatically changed. I remember telling my daddy goodbye as he left for work, and the lingering aroma of his after-shave. I remember my mother telling us kids to come to the table for breakfast. I remember a knock on the door. I remember someone opening it and my mother screaming-a loud, painful mourning wail.I may have been young but I knew why those men in their military uniforms were there with the chaplain, their military vehicle, and their somber faces. I ran! I didn’t want to listen to what they had to say, thinking in my childish mind that if I didn’t hear them say it then it wouldn’t be true. I beat frantically on Miss Rachel’s door. She was my mother’s best friend and right then I knew she needed one. I ran over to Mary Ann’s house. I needed a friend too. I finally went home after a while. Someone, I don’t remember who, was talking to Daddy on the phone. We found out later that in his pain and grief he ripped his phone completely out of the wall. My sister Connie, 15, was crying and my little brother Mike, 11, was motionless, in some kind of deep shock.

Daddy arrived and the full story unfolded. Jim Jr., a door gunner, was flying a mission over an area called Hamburger Hill in the Republic of Viet-Nam. His helicopter was hit by enemy fire, crashed and burned. He had not yet been found so they listed him as MIA (missing in action). Deep down we all knew better. The war had come home. I remember daddy telling someone later that during his military career he had had to deliver bad news to many wives, mothers, and fathers, but he never thought he would be the recipient of such news himself.

My God! He’s only 19 years old! Why him? Why us? He’s my brother, my idol. I want him home now! Safe! Alive! Well!

The next few days were a blur. I wouldn’t, couldn’t, eat or sleep. Jim’s faithful companion, his dog Winner, knew his master wasn’t coming home. He brought in his favorite toy, an old chewed-up football that he and Jim played with endlessly, and laid it at Mother’s feet as an offering of comfort. He never again left her side until his death many years ago.

People were in and out constantly over the next few days. There were friends, relatives, neighbors and schoolmates offering their comfort and prayers. Jim’s fiance’ Pat came and stayed with us. For days we walked in a fog. Mike still showed no emotion, living day by day as if nothing had changed. We worried about him. It took almost a year for him to come to terms with it, break down, and accept it.

Armed Forces day arrived!. Jim’s best friend, Larry Saltee, came and took Connie, Pat, and I to the festivities. Mother said we needed to get out. The waiting was taking its toll on us. Mike didn’t go. He worked Saturdays at the local barber shop there in Daleville shining shoes.

In spite of our pain we had a good time – until we drove up to the house. That military car was leaving. Mother and Grandma were sitting at the table with red-rimmed eyes, trying to be strong. She told us that Daddy had gone to get Mike from work. We knew something was wrong for he never came home early.

“He’s dead isn’t he?” Pat asked. Everyone began crying. The waiting was over. Now we knew. We would never see him again. Never again would we see that winning smile or hear his laugh. Never again would we be the victim of his unfailing charms and practical jokes. We were even robbed of the chance to look upon his face one last time for all they found were his dog tags.

Lying on the table were photographs taken a week earlier. They were taken on Mother’s Day of a family that a young boy would never see again, for at the time we were laughing and hamming it up for the cameras, Jim had met his death. My God! He was only 19.

Today is Jim’s birthday. He would have been 61 years old. It’s hard to believe that he would have been that age. Sometimes, most times, it seems like only yesterday. The pain is still there. Now though he is remembered through wonderful memories, but he is sorely missed. His passing took its toll and destroyed a once-happy family unit. We love you and miss you PFC James E. Isaac Jr.

Zadie

bjr1973 — Thu, 07 Oct 2010 22:39:03 +0000

Zadie’s here and life is grand! She made her way into the world on March 3, 2010 at 12:04 p.m. weighing 6 lbs. 10 oz. And she’s perfect. She is her daddy, my son, all over again. It is amazing to look down in that sweet little face and see him again, the way he was when the doctor laid him in my arms. I instantly go back to that moment and feel the pride, the sheer thankfulness that after 11 years of marriage we had a son. I almost envy him that new feeling but then when I look in his eyes and see the awe and the love that shines on his face I am happy for him. And now all those times I said “just wait until you have a child” will come to fruition. And I do see some of her mommy in her. That perfect little nose is all mommy’s, but everything else is daddy’s. I get the feeling that it will not be too long before he is wrapped tightly around her little finger, just like I was with him. And it is wonderful!!!

Make It Better Mommy

bjr1973 — Thu, 07 Oct 2010 22:26:51 +0000

Listening to the sadness in the voice of your child whether he is 4 or 40 is something that a mother wants to help with immediately. When they’re 4 you can…not so much when they’re grown and living their own life. I’ve told my sons that as a mom I want to put a band-aid on their hurts and kiss their boo-boos but it doesn’t really work like that anymore. I can’t kiss this boo-boo away. Broken hearts have to heal on their own and no amount of mother’s love can fix it. Mothers, REAL mothers, want to do everything within their power to keep their child safe and pain free but we can’t. For me, that is where God comes in. What I cannot help or heal….He can, and does. In a perfect world moms would be equipped with a magic wand that has powers to fix everything from broken toys to broken hearts. Can’t you just see it. Poof…toy fixed! Poof…grades better! Poof…broken heart healed. Sadly it doesn’t work that way but I am so glad that my husband and I did equip our children with their own magic wand. Our Lord and Saviour. And even more so is the fact that they know how to use it. They know how to call on Him. And they do!

Bert

bjr1973 — Sat, 23 Jan 2010 03:22:58 +0000

Bert Brantley

They say only the good die young and I guess that’s true. And I suppose it depends on your idea of young. I got the call at 6:00 am on Sunday Oct. 4th, 2009, from a coworker. “Brenda I’ve got some bad news. Bert died in a wreck last night.” I immediately begin saying “no, no, no, oh please tell me you are lying this isn’t happening.” We were both crying and after a minute we hung up. My husband came into the room asking what was happening and I told him. He knew I was heartbroken as he knew I cared deeply, yes dare I say it, loved this man. He was only 47 years old and the sweetest, most talented, most exasperating, aggravating and good man I have ever known. He was a major part of my life for 11 years. He was my supervisor, advisor, sounding board, and my friend. And after that call I was devastated, totally. And I was not alone. There were not too many people in our area that had not known Bert personally or known of him. I would also venture to say that there were not very many, if any, that would have anything negative to say about him. Now having said all of that please know that he was not perfect by any stretch of the imagination. Like the rest of us he was human and had his flaws but there was something about him that endeared you to him. He really did have a good heart but tried to not show it. He could take a piece of string and somehow decorate a whole room with it and it would look amazing! He had this innate ability to transform any room into a showpiece. It was a very hard thing for me to go to the funeral home and gaze upon him one last time. It wasn’t him, it couldn’t be. I know he had been troubled the last few months of his life and he had just begun reaching out to some of us again, talking to us and telling us how his life was looking up. He had a new job, and he also realized just how many people cared about him. He sounded like the old Bert again. He was happy. But he was also a grown man who knew better than to drink and drive, and I do not know how many times I had fussed at him for that and for texting on his cell phone while driving. The two played a major role in taking his life. And I was angry at him for doing those things. But how can you stay angry at someone when you know where they are. Without a doubt he is turning heaven into a showplace and the Lord is shaking his head and looking around at Bert’s handiwork. I miss you Bert Brantley, I love you and you will always have a piece of my heart. Thank you for the many times you took my side, the things you helped me through. Thank you for being you. Love Brenda

When Life Happens

bjr1973 — Wed, 08 Jul 2009 12:48:51 +0000

Do you ever wonder how life can continue when you lose someone close to you? You look around and people are smiling, talking, happily living their lives while yours is shattered into a million pieces. How can that happen? Don’t they know that you are broken and hurting? Don’t they care? Of course not, because they don’t know you or what is going on in your life. But it still makes you wonder how they can continue when you don’t feel like you can. My mother was diagnosed with Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma in August of 07 and at that moment her life and ours changed. But what a fighter she was. Not at first. Upon first hearing the news she wanted to give up and die. Plain and simple, just go on home to be with her Lord. That did not last long. Soon that fighter in her arose and she became like Rocky, gearing up for the fight. Now Mom was a tiny 73 year old woman, only weighing in at about 120 pounds and she walked everyday. She was a fixture in this town we live in. Everyone loved her and so many of her friends rallied around when she got sick. She would get dozens of cards weekly from friends, family and other well-wishers. She went through chemotherapy for several weeks often being so tired she could barely lift her head but not too many people saw that. When they visited, which was daily, she rose to the occasion, greeting them as if they were invited guests to a party. It was my sister, myself, and occasionally my brother, who got to see the downside of things. We got to witness her being sick, or sad, or even angry at times. But we also got to see that wonderful testimony to God that she always carried with her. She never railed at him with the “why me God” or “what did I do to deserve this,” at least not in our presence. Her faith never wavered and she knew without a doubt she was going to come through this horrid disease and win that battle. And she did! I remember the day I got the news that she was in remission. Oh, how we rejoiced! Oh happy day, oh happy day!!!! She was almost back to her old self. Her hair was beginning to peach fuzz back and we were all looking forward to seeing what it would look like when it came back in. She was eating again, her color was coming back to a normal state instead of that waned look that comes with chemo. Yes, we were all so happy, celebrating life and so thankful to God that she was better, at least for a few weeks. Without warning that color began to get a light shade of yellow. So we took her to the doctor and he immediately had her admitted to the hospital. Within a few short hours she became very weak. They ran test after test and could not figure out what was wrong with her. Finally, after about a day and a half the doctors determined that she had hepatitis B. We all looked at each other wondering how in the world she could have gotten that. She wasn’t a drug user nor did she have indiscriminate sex. Then in trickles we began remembering things from our childhood, like how our grandfather, her father, died of cirrhosis when we were toddlers and her brother died from liver problems many years ago. Apparently she had been carrying this around, undiscovered, all these years. Now, because of her weakened condition from her cancer and the chemo, another ugly villain reared its head. Actually hep B is treatable, not curable, most of the time. But it can be deadly in weakened conditions. And it can be reactivated by certain chemotherapy drugs. She was taking one of those but these are things we found out after the fact. Our family sat vigil, talking to Mom, reassuring her, and praying. Everyone except me. By that time I had already been diagnosed with breast cancer and a spot had been detected on my lung. My oncologist did not think it was safe for me to be around her until a decision had been made as to what was going on with me. That was agony, not to be able to see her, knowing that she could be slipping away and I would not get to be there. Even my husband could not visit due to the possibility of passing anything on to me. But I kept in contact with family, talking to her daily. She was weak but in good spirits. She loved her God and knew He would take care of her. And she always gave me words of encouragement, even in her weakest moments. On January 31, 2008 I finally got good news from my oncologist. It was not cancer on my lungs and I was able to visit mom. My husband and I headed straight to the hospital to share this great news. When I walked in I went straight to her. She was asleep. No, at that point she had started to drift away. I held her hand and told her my good news. She squeezed my hand. Or did she? Maybe I wanted to believe that she did and I believe with all my heart that she heard me. Within 2 hours after being able to see her, touch her, kiss her, with myself, my brother and my sister standing next to her, my mother left this world for the next one. The look on her face was so beautiful and peaceful it was hard to believe she was gone. But she was. No need to tell you about what followed. The pain and heartache we all felt upon losing her. She was mama, enough said. But that is when I realized, once again, that when death comes, life continues. Inevitably, life happens. We all miss her as much now as we did then, and will always remember her through the legacy of love and faith in God that she carried.

I Blinked

bjr1973 — Thu, 02 Jul 2009 12:47:32 +0000

As I sit here in the early morning silence, my mind goes back to yesteryear when this home was filled with the sounds of 2 little boys bustling around getting ready for school. The morning is filled with “I can’t find my socks, I’m hungry, I forgot to do my homework, I want to stay home.” You know, all those things that go on in a busy household. In my mind I see them doing so many of the things that filled their days. Running outside, playing soldier, baseball, trucks, Nintendo or watching Spongebob on TV. Gosh, where did those days go? I blinked and now they are off on their own, leaving behind a trail of memories that live on in my mind, and theirs. They had a good childhood of that I have no doubt. And my wish for them is all the happiness and love that they brought to me.

Godspeed, Mike

bjr1973 — Mon, 22 Jun 2009 12:25:27 +0000

My husband and I were enjoying our morning coffee and reading the newspaper today when he said “Mike Wilson died.” I sat quietly sipping my coffee, not saying anything. “Did you hear me?” he asked. ”Yes, I heard you.” Tears welled in my eyes and my mind went back to the first time I ever met Mike. We were both undergoing radiation therapy for cancer. I had breast cancer and he had some form of mouth cancer. I already knew his brothers as we all live in the same town, but had never met Mike. He was with his wife, Vicki, and as we sat there we struck up a conversation. When I realized who he was we began talking about families, friends, our churches, and a myriad of other things. I was scheduled for radiation daily for 6 weeks as was he and over that time we became friends. Now let me explain here that this is another type of friendship. This isn’t the type where we all hang out, go out to eat, or visit each others homes. When you are going through what we were it was a different level of friendship. I can’t explain it really, you’d just have to go through it and I wouldn’t wish this on anyone. Over the course of time I learned much about them. I knew Mike was a quiet man, never saying too much but a very friendly man. When he did have something to say though he let loose. He had a radiant smile. He could not eat much and lost quite a bit of weight. We joked about how I found it unfair that I did not lose a lot of weight but everyone else did, sick humor at it’s best but that is how we coped. At times I would not see him there at our appointed time and I would wonder if something had happened to him. Then as I would be leaving they would be coming in. We would hug, say hello, and go our separate ways. I have not seen Mike in a long time but I have occasionally kept up with him through others that knew him. I have also prayed for him daily, for healing, and as I hear my husband telling me of his death my first thought was that the Lord did not heal him. My second thought was “yes He did.” Godspeed Mike, I will always remember your smile even on your most painful days. Godspeed!

The New Girl

bjr1973 — Fri, 19 Jun 2009 22:58:27 +0000

When I had my first son, lo those many years ago (August 1984 to be exact) I was so happy as I had actually ordered him when I was in the 8th grade. That’s right, I told God that when I got married I wanted a boy and then a girl. I didn’t realize back then that it really doesn’t work that way. I even had the boy’s name picked out but to save my son any embarrassment (not that his name is horrid or anything he is just rather a private person) I will not name it here. Isn’t it funny how things work out? By the time I was pregnant with my second child I just knew it was going to be a girl, after all I had already ordered her years before. And even when I had some bleeding later in my pregnancy and the Doctors had to do an ultrasound I did not want to know the sex of this baby. Why? I already knew and besides she wasn’t in the right position to tell. So then I began looking at all those beautiful little girl clothes, and shoes, and barbies, and so on, and so on, and then I began praying for a boy. Who could afford those clothes? My clothes didn’t cost as much as one of those little dresses with about 6 inches of material and 20 yards of lace. I thought “Oh Lord, if this is a girl I am going to take all of my son’s hand me downs and sew lace on them. ” And when this precious little boy came into the world I was so thankful he was not a she and no not because of the clothes. Just like with my first son I fell in love and wouldn’t have traded him for anything. As they got older I realized God knew just what he was doing. I was a tomboy most of my young life and when my boys came along I did little boy things with them, trucks, ball, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, wrestling, fishing , things along those lines. So I realized that had I been given a daughter she would have been a tomboy, much like Laura Ingalls. So who needed girls? Not me, I had boys and all was right in my world. Besides I was the only girl….and I liked it that way. Fast forward 23 years later and I am sitting at my oldest son’s wedding watching him marry a very beautiful young lady that captured not only his heart but our whole family. She was good for him and they are a great fit. So see I didn’t have to have a daughter. God gave me one in the form of a wonderful daughter-in-law. And now there is going to be a new girl in the family. My baby boy (who also shall remain nameless) is now engaged to a very beautiful young lady and she too has captured our hearts along with his. See God knew exactly what He was doing.

Jesus Came Today

bjr1973 — Fri, 19 Jun 2009 22:52:43 +0000

Jesus came today. He came right in and took home a very sweet lady. She was one of those that I told you about, you know, the one that lights up a room when she smiles. There was no fight, no struggle, she just….went home. Her face immediately became one of peace, forever more. I shall miss her but my heart rejoices for her as I know she is now walking with the Lord. As I walked out of her room, tears rolling down my face, I was reminded of my mother. She too just…went to sleep. We knew it was coming but we weren’t prepared. We are still not prepared. But knowing that her journey on this earth ended when Jesus took her home makes it a little easier, but it doesn’t lessen the pain of missing her everyday.

“Golden Girls” and Guys!

bjr1973 — Wed, 10 Jun 2009 12:26:22 +0000

As I stated before in my profile I work in a nursing home. On most days it is an interesting job. On others it can be depressing and defeating. We have a mix of our own “golden girls” and guys too! And with a mix of many different personalities it can be trying. But sometimes you meet the sweetest little lady or gentleman that will immediately steal your heart. They have a goodness about them that exudes love. They are even tempered, willing to go along with whatever you want them to do whether it is getting their bath or going to an activity. They appreciate everything that you do for them, and their smiles can light up a room. When you bring them a snack or a cup of coffee you are rewarded with that smile. It is sheer delight. When they take your hand and tell you how much they love you your heart will soar. And when they leave this world to go to the next one, your heart breaks into a million pieces. You cry with the family, you say a prayer, and you thank God above that they touched your life, even if only for a little while.