Stories from an Empty Nester

At Least Slow Down to Notice the Roses...

Fri, Nov 14th 2008, 02:36 GMT

I put onbusiness clothes, grabbed my folder, a tall coffee and headed out to search for a job. A simple task in it's self, just drop off resumes here, there and everywhere. Only a matter of time before that job would be calling my name and I would join the working force again. My confidence was high, my chest bursting with pride that I was once again joining the working masses. Surely, it would be today that the phone would start ringing. My resume was pristeen, freshly typed and well written. References galore and a cover letter to complete it. I wore a smile on my face at each stop, and the excitement in me rose. Yet, my nerves also were noticable, if only to me. Over a week later, and the phone has not rung but once. That was a call to let me know they just did a "mass hiring", and my resume would be placed on "hold" in case another opening came along. This didn't get me down. I was glad they had called at least. Another job looks good, but still...the phone is silent. I have contacts there, my grandson spent two years of pre-k there. But, still no call. People say two things to me about my working: "How come you are not working yet? Don't you want to?" and "Give it some time, it takes time." To answer the first question, of course I want to work! I am trying as hard as I possibly can. I attend workshops on resumes, workshops on interviews and have VESID counselling me. This isn't as easy as it once was as an LPN, when there were more options due to a nurses shortage. I have to rule out hospitals, nursing homes and residential homes.I have to live within my limitations. I am looking outside the nursing field as well. But far too often, I see a good job...read further and the limitations are addressed before I even apply: must be able to lift over...must be able to stand for long hours...no restrictions allowed...must be able to transfer to another area....the list goes on. The second question I also have to deal with, because I am trying to "give it time". I have no choice, just frustrated to the max on some days. I cannot let that part get me down, and I really try to overcome it. I do job searches on the computer, when that gets frustrating, I head out with resumes in hand. I go to Working Solutions, sign in and go on their computers and speak with their staff in lieu of losing my mind on the internet. Amid all this pressure to find a job, I am like others, my life goes on. Home to cook, clean and watch over my grandson for a few hours after school. Laundry, grocery shopping, bill paying and run my son to the airport. Plan a Sunday meal, take the car to be fixed, pick up my daughter from work, pay some more bills and vacuum the carpet. In a sense, I have already rejoined the working force as I watch hours tick by and wish there were more in a day to get it all done. Alas, that does not ever happen. I will find that job that suits my limitations and will help pay those never ending bills. I will find myself awakening to do morning stretches, hit the shower and grab a cup of coffee as I rush off to work. Come home and catch up on the chores without end, cook a meal and spend time with those I love. Hit the pillow, sleep like a log and hit the snooze button a few times, starting it all over again each day. If I have learned anything this week, it is to stop...or at least slow down to notice the roses, I would love to inhale their aroma and breathe a stress free breath over. Not let the thought of a job search get me down, or even the ache I have to hug my son again, the endless laundry or dog hair on the carpet get me down. Live this life to the fullest and enjoy each and every minute as best I can. A lesson I learned far too often from the passing of a friend, a loved one or someone listed in the obits who was far too young to have truly lived. Breathe deep. Smile. Take the moment to remember that this life is meant to be lived, not droned through. That job is just around the corner and I will take a line from an AC/DC song when I finally find it: "Yes I'm back...". Look out world, here I come.

A Loss That Everyone Feels....

Mon, Nov 10th 2008, 03:38 GMT

Somewhere over a warmish cup of coffee, I heard the news, a dear forum friend was lost. A loss of any kind hits you in the chest, but for it to be someone so young, it truly hits home. You are stunned and the world seems to change before your eyes. A clearer vision of the things around you, the people you love, the things you feel you have left to do. I have felt this before. Younger days when I lost a friend at age ten...not even a teenager. Death happened to old people, not people who were pre-teen. Then another friend at the tender age of 16, I was only 14. Again, another one passed away, I was 17 he was 14. Just no explanation for that. Young lifesnuffed out so quickly. A life not fully lived, at least in my eyes. Then, at age 39, another close, nearly life-long friend was killed in a car accident, leaving her young boys behind. It never ceases to stun me, you cannot prepare yourself for it. The news yesterday was stunning, and honestly, I only knew the person from the forum. My sadness was nothing compared to that of his family and close friends. I would never try to assume that it was. Yet, as I went about my day, DDC was in my thoughts. Tim. I wasn't that familiar with him, in my mind he is DDC...AC/DC fan, motorcyclist, winemaker, humorous poster, and all around nice guy. Plans were made from time to time for us to meet at my brother's home. It never came to pass, as it happens, time was always a factor. So many on the forum I have said I would like to meet, and haven't yet. Again, I feel empty on that promise. Much like I did when my close friend was killed in a car accident. Weeks before we had run into each other, and had promised to "do lunch". It never came to be. The age of the internet has introduced me to many "friends" I have never and most likely will never meet. A "chat room junky" in the first year of being on the internet, I still get email Christmas cards from "friends" on my favorite chat. People I had never met face to face, yet built a relationship with. Like the days of my penpal from Holland whom I never met, but still have her picture tucked in an old album somewhere. Coming onto the forums four years ago, I have met many "forumites". Ihave yet to meet many that have shared my ups and downs, life's challenges and troubles. Laughs by the thousands, tears of joy and sadness. Angry words, and calming posts. All of it culminating in friendships via the superhighway. Now, I know this isn't "all about me", nor is it truly in anyway really about the forums. Not even about friendships made via the internet. It is about having compassion for the folks who truly have to live life day to day without this person in their lives. That is where it comes to be a part of you. You put yourself in those peoples' shoes and look to your own inner circle. Family, friends, maybe even co-workers, and wonder how it would effect you to lose them so suddenly. We all have lost someone so suddenly, I am sure. Somehow, though, it makes you pull that inner circle in tighter. The principles in the circle may not notice you are hugging them tighter, watching them as if to engrave them into a memory bank in your brain. That cannot hear your brain checking off a list of things you want to accomplish, in case it it you that has to leave this Earth. But, you are doing it. No, it isn't about me. But, in the end, iteffects us all. No matter how insignificant we felt we were in that person's life. We are human. We feel, we hurt. We cry. Weare alsomaking that personal check list of things to do. I want to make sure everyone who is a part of my life knows I truly love them. I want my boyfriend to know how happy he has made me these last four months. I want my children to know how proud I am of their accomplishments. I want to ride in the wind cross country. I want to leave my mark upon this earth. Just as DDC has, in his own way. Just as I am sure he is wondering what all the fuss is on the forums over his passing and is probably saying, "Knock off the fluffy posts and get more music videos on there!" Oh, but I am sure he is revving up his bike to ride along side for the planned tribute ride, "Now that's what I am talking about!" Ride on, Tim. Ride on, DDC. You have left an emptiness on the forum. But, you have also left volumes of wonderful posts for us to remember you by. Little glimpses into the man you were. God speed, DDC.

Warm Blankies and Fluffy Pillows...a Girl Can Dream

Fri, Oct 24th 2008, 10:04 GMT

Having my son home on leave is wonderful. I see him in the morning and before I go to bed, and much time for visiting during the day. However, I know he has more to do than just visit with his Momma. As it turns out, my life has to go on as well, much as I would love to spend every available moment before he heads back to Alaska. Alaska...not as concerning as a war zone, but seemingly just as far away when you are missing your son or he is missing home. But, I have the comfort of being able to call him and visa versa for him as opposed to the endless wait for a call from Iraq, or an IM on AIM. Still, as I have said before, much better than what my own Mother or Grandmothers lived through with their sons off at different wars. No, my life is going on. My back is getting stronger and I am looking in to a new line of employment and readying myself to return. It wouold be nice to be able to simply return to my former job, an LPN woprking for a staffing agency in various nursing homes. But, alas, that will not be happening. No, I have restrictions and limitations and must start out part time. The inability of not being able to lift more than 50 lbs. rules out nursing homes and/or hospitals as a nurse. Doctor office positions are hard to come by, especially for part time only. But, I am trying. I have gone to Working Solutions and begun my job quest. I went to VESID to hopefully obtain some help to beef up the resume by getting a few more classes in: phlebotomy and EKG. I know there is a place for me in the workforce, hopefully within the nursing field. I just have to be patient and keep looking forward. Yesterday, I awoke with what felt like glass shards crammed down my throat, the beginning of a cold. It nailed me to the couch for most of the day. I tried to pull it together, but the body said, "no". This after a week of backaches and muscle spasms. No, I am not regressing from my hard work post-op on my lumbar spine. Just a bad choice in sneakers. Love my New Balance sneaks, and it was time for new ones. I just chose the wrong size and the wrong style. Once I stopped wearing them, the backaches and spasms decreased drastically. (PS: I called and spoke with New Balance customer service: outstanding! They made sure I returned the shoes and explained what I needed! New Balance as a classact!) So, as much as my back felt better, the head throbbed, and the sinuses ached. I threw up a white flag (my tissue?) and surrendered. Not an easy accomplishment for me. I am so used to being more and more active, that a day on the couch may sound wonderful, but it depressed me. I skipped my stretches yesterday, I knew my body was telling me it needed rest. But, I also know too much rest can make the muscles tighten and not want to loosen. So, I was back on my game today, still stuffy and achey, but better than yesterday. I hate head colds. I blame my daughter who had it prior to me. I asked her NOT to breathe in my house. Dang kids do what they want. I can deal with a stomach flu, ya know it is going to be over in 24 hours or so. No telling with a head cold how long it will last or, the dreadful prospect it will head for your chest or turn into sinusitis. That happened last year to me, sinusitis and bronchitis. It sucked, though I am sure I don't really have to tell you that. I drink water, tea, juice, take 1000 mg of vitamin C and a regular vitamin. I take hot showers and rest. But, just whenI thinkI feel better, the nose seems to laugh at me, literally in the face. Stuffed up again, sneezing when least expected. Tissuesmade withlotion feel more like fine grain sandpaper at the moment. Alas, I am whining. I admit it. I am a whiner when I am sick like this. I like to be coddled and pampered, at least for one day. I think it stems from my childhood. My mother would put me on the couch, turn onPBS or her soaps (not much selection back in the day) and place a TV tray table next to me. On that would be juice and toast for breakfast. Tomato soup and grilled cheese for lunch. More fluids throughout the day. If I was still ill at dinnertime, then I could stay on the couch and have dinner. Cuddled down in warm blankies and fluffed up pillows. It is the first thing I think of when getting a cold. Just a long nap on the couch, under a warm comforter or quilt and big fluffy pillows. Then...I wake up. I am 42 years old (yes, I know closer to 43 next week). I must care for myself, though my kids do try when they are here. The bf comes over and kisses the forehead to make me all better. But, there is no Momma to coddle and pamper as in the days of my youth. I miss her dearly! And no, not just to have her coddle and pamper me while I have a cold. Because, she was my best friend as well as my Mom. Siiiiiiiiiigh...I love ya, Mom. So, I am back on my feet from the couch, having ran errands and ready to get back to the job search. Bake cookies for my son and loved ones. Maybe a nice piping hot dinner as well. Thinking a hot pot of chili to clear the sinuses.... ...man does that couch sound and look inviting....maybe someone will bring me a nice hot bowl of tomato soup....naw. I am a big girl...this cold will not keep me down!

Welcome Home, Soldier...Welcome Home, Son...

Thu, Oct 16th 2008, 03:50 GMT

I drove to the airport with Brad Paisley in my CD player. My heart thumped with excitement, my boy was coming home. I was alone in the car, everyone was still at work. But I would not be greeting my son alone. The Patriot Guard would be there, I was meeting them before his arrival. I am a PGR member, and had requested a flagline at the airport. Knowing it was mid-week, and early evening, I did not expect a big turn out for the event. No, I would be hopeful for 5-10 people and grateful for that many. My mind wandered as I drove, picturing the events to come. Flags held high as my son came to me at the airport. My heart raced, and I could feel the stretching of my cheeks as my mouth was in a never ending smile on the way there. More than anything, I could not wait for that first hug. That once all over check, that eye to eye greeting. I kept glancing at my clock, plenty of time to meet at the staging area. I pulled into the airport area about 540pm. I was looking for the Best Western where we were staging, and spotted the hotel signs. I took a deep breath, "Please let there be a few people here...", and as I rounded the drive, I felt my jaw drop. I had to count at least 15 -20 people already there. Some on bikes, the day had been warm but a nip was settling into the air. I heard a voice saying, "Oh my gosh! Oh wow!"...it was my own. I could feel that smile stretching even bigger, with tears coming to the corner of my eyes. I parked my car with the bikes, and got out to meet these wonderful people. I shook hands with all, getting names, and wishing I could remember them all. I felt goosebumps growing on my skin, and then...more came in cars and on bikes. I began taking pictures. More came. I shook more hands, more hugs, more thank yous, but I could barely breathe at times. These people were here for my son. Mid-week, dinnertime, and what was becoming a cooler evening. I met couples, veterans, and even children came with their parents. Several people were on their first mission. Many faces were familiar, some I knew by name.A boy dressed in his NY National Guard Junior Cadet Corps uniform. I was floored, over and over again. But, this was just the beginning. This was just the pre-gathering. We made a circle as our Ride Captain began to give his instructions for the actual event to take place in the terminal. He introduced as the soldier's mom and they applauded. I told them, "No, the applause should be for all of you. I cannot thank you enough for being here for my son." I wishI had thought to videotape the roll out to the airport from that parking lot to the limo parking lot the airport police allowed us to use. Flags were not unfurled on the bike, but the stream of bikes and cars was breathtaking. Now, you would think, me being part of missions in the past,I would have been prepared. But I wasn't. I was the last car...I think...and just watched the procession. Again, I felt like I was on cloud nine. My boy was due shortly, and these wonderful people were here to welcome him home. In the limo parking lot, the bikes lined up and that view was another eye opening moment. I have pictures of that. Lined all in a row, it was even more overwhelming then in the previous area. Then they began unrolling flags and raising them on their extendable poles. Goosebumps on goosebumps. We walked together to the terminal, again I was in the back of the pack. Busy taking pictures, taking it all in. We regrouped in the terminal, momentarily stopping at the Welcome Center for the troops inside the terminal. A nice little cozy nook for wary warrior travelers where they can get food, a comfy chair, internet access, TV,...and more. Then it was off to my son's gate. People would stop and watch us as we did an informal parade up the escalator. Again, I had lagged behind to take pictures at the Welcome Center. Once at the gate, I was again awed....this would be repeated several times. The line of flags seemed endless, even though it was still informal and relaxed. I looked everywhere and there were flags. We stayed that way and I shook more hands, more pictures, trying to show appreciation and document this event. One little tiny snag, just before my son's flight was due....we were at the wrong gate! I was shaking when the lady informed us. We had thought we were ok, he was coming in on Continental. But, his flight service had changed to NorthWest at some point. This time, I led the pack in the dash to the gate across the terminal. I know why they call it terminal now, it is terminally long! I reached the escalator to take me to the other gate, when I had the thought to check the baggage claim area. Good idea, because my son was already there! His flight had landed ten minutes earlier. I shouted back, "I see him! He is right there!" He had already spotted me, too! He smiled wide and we met in a huge hug! A quick check into his eyes, another hug...and another...and another. Well, an apology for being at the wrong gate. I was so sorry for that, and imagined his disappointment. But he shook his head, "We were early anyhow, and my fault that I didn't tell you earlier that the flight changed to NorthWest." It didn't matter now, he was in my arms and we both were beaming. I spun around and right before our eyes, the PGR fell into two lines to form an aisle. My son watched and said, "Whoah." I kept saying, "There are more coming..." and he would always answer with, "Wow." We walked down through the tunnel of flags, and then back again, but not before I handed my camera to someone to videotape it all. As we made our way back to the other end, my son spotted a female soldier in uniform and I called her over. She was headed for Iraq, we gave her a send off mission along with my son's welcome home. Bittersweet moment. My son and I were glad to share the moment. Flags surrounding us, we went down one side shaking hands and the other soldier went down the other. It seemed all too soon, the flags were brought down and we had reached for the last hand shake. But, it was all good. My son had had a long trip, and though grateful to these people, he wanted to get home. They knew that and understood that. Oh, and the visuals I had on the drive there? Not even close to the actual event. It was better thanI could ever have imagined! Baggage in hand, other people not with the PGR extended their hands as we were leaving, "Thank you for your service", "Welcome Home, soldier"....my son beamed with pride. Got to admit, so did I. My son is home. Right now the house is quiet in the early morning hours. But, last night it was filled with laughter and conversations. I will never forget that moment at the airport. It was perfect, even though we had the wrong gate! Because my son got to see them all fall in, and it seemed to go on forever. God bless the PGR and all those who stopped and shook my sons hand. It makes me proud to be an American as much as I am a Proud Momma of an American Soldier. My son will also never forget that sight. "It is good to know people are appreciative of what we troops do." We showed the video at home,our family and friends were floored. So next time you are in an airport or anywhere for that matter, and see a soldier. Take a few minutes, extend your hand and share a moment with them. They appreciate it, and so will you.

Thank You Seems so Weak to Say....

Mon, Sep 29th 2008, 08:16 GMT

Breathe. That is what I can do now, a little more easier, anyhow. My son is back safely from Iraq, but even so, my prayers remain with the troops still standing and fighting for our country around the globe. Be it on a base here in the US of A or on the frronts of the War on Terror. Being the mother of an American Soldier, my heart remains true to those who have sons and daughters still in the warzones. A part of me feels a bit selfish to be able to smile and breathe easier. Not too long ago, I went on a PGR mission for a soldier that had also returned from Iraq. I remember feeling a bit of jealousy as I watched that Mother grinning ear to ear. Yet, it was comforting to see her be able to gaze at him, and know, that soon I could do the same. Though I have yet to see him eye to eye, I still have the comfort of being able to call him on his cell phone freely, not wait for those calls to come in and wonder why they aren't when they don't come in. I can text message him and ask how his day is going. I am free to start planning a party for his leave in October and await with excitement for that moment that I can hold him closer and nearer to me. Just for that brief moment, do that once over check and see he is truly ok. A celebration is being put together, but I know elsewhere in this great land of ours, tears of good bye are being shed. Another Mother is longing for her child to come home soon. Another soldier is shouldering his duffle, one fleeting glance over his shoulder at his family at the airport...the Mother stands strong. He does not chance another look back, he disappears through security....the Mothers tears no longer hold back. I know that feeling all too well. I know I may see that time again, and will. Even though he may only be returning to his base in the US, it is still in far off Alaska. Yet, I know how fortunate I am. Somewhere, a Mother has only pictures and videoes, memories tucked away in her mind, of a son or daughter who did not make it home. Not in the way all military families hope and pray their loved ones do. I have witnessed those "homecomings", I know very well my prayers were answered. I pray for all those still serving as I said. I cannot forget the sights of mother's being hand a folded flag, a gift from a grateful nation. The fathers who tried to remain strong, but crumbled as the flag was folded. The veterans standing at my side, holding proudly an American flag, silent tears falling for a soldier we did not truly know. The strains of TAPS, the nerve shattering 21 gun salute. The solemn stream of people walking away from the gravesides. You just do not forget that, you could not even if you tried. So, yes, I am extremely grateful to my God, and to all those who have said prayers for my son and his fellow troops to make it home safely. I am proud of my son for serving his country diligently and safely. I am excited to know he will be home in just a couple of weeks. But my prayers go on. While I dance my own "happy dance", I also keep in my heart all of our troops and veterans. Thank you seems so weak to say, but it is all I have to offer as I type. My support you will always have. God bless our troops and veterans. We should not have to wait for a special holiday to do so.