Author: stella elaine

Words of Wisdom from Doc Holliday

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This week’s post won’t be as long as my previous posts.  I have been going in different directions since last week.  Some weeks the words come easily.  This week I’ve been preoccupied, but you never know what’s around the corner……

I have been a fan of westerns since a very early age.  The cowboys, the Indians (I know the proper term is Native Americans, but when I grew up they were Indians), the horses, the wagon trains, and the cattle drives.  It was often good versus evil.  To this day, I will watch John Wayne in The Cowboys still hoping that he will not get bushwhacked and die.  In the early 1980’s TBS otherwise known as Turner Broadcasting System came on the scene where my family was living.  Wagon Train was a favorite show of mine, and I would watch it every week on TBS.  Bonanza, Gun Smoke, and The Rifleman were also favorite shows of mine.  To say they just don’t make westerns like they used to is an understatement.  Westerns gave me a foundation of right and wrong.  I also came to understand that good does not always win out.  Sometimes the good guy dies.  Some of the best life advice can come from a western.  During these crazy times we are living in, I think we could all benefit from circling our wagons to watch some Saturday afternoon westerns.  

Tombstone featuring Kurt Russell, Val Kilmer, Sam Elliot, and Bill Paxton was released in 1993.  I remember watching it, and have watched bits and pieces of it over the years.  I guess AMC was running a western marathon this past weekend, and  Tombstone was on Saturday and Sunday.  I caught the tail end of it on Sunday.  Something Doc Holliday, played by Val Kilmer, said caught my attention.  He said, “There’s No Normal Life. There’s Just Life. Now Get On With It.”  He said this to Wyatt Earp while he was lying on his deathbed.  He was trying to make his one true friend, Wyatt Earp, understand that we will all end up on a deathbed, but before we get there we better find happiness.  That conversation really jumped out at me.  A normal life?  Now that was something I have been chasing my entire life.  Yet here I am at 50, and I realize like Doc Holliday said in Tombstone, “There’s just life.” Yet, what a life it can be.

I think many of us grew up on the outside looking in wishing our life was like Sally’s or Billy’s.  Their family seemed to have it all.  Nice car, new clothes, and all the latest toys.  My parents divorced when I was very young, and from about six years on I was raised by my single mother.  There were not a lot of extras.  I realized once I was grown that I was not the only one from a family that didn’t have money for the extras.  I remember when Atari first came out with Donkey Kong and Centipede.  Of course, my mom couldn’t afford that, but I had a friend that always had the newest toys or fashions.  I was the chunky girl with frizzy curly hair that desperately wanted Farrah Fawcett wings.  I even have a picture of my feeble attempt.  A popular hairstyle when I was growing up.  Hair products for naturally curly hair were very limited back then if not almost non-existent.   I look back now, and am grateful that I didn’t have everything I ever thought I wanted.  I was living a normal life, and didn’t know it.  I was way into adulthood when I realized the perceived perfect lives that I thought my friends and the popular kids had were often a farce.  Perhaps, like most pre-teens and teenagers, I was so immersed in myself and in my own world, that  I didn’t know that my friend had an alcoholic father or the girl I thought had it all lived in an abusive household.  I might have had chaos at times in my home, but I was never physically abused, and I did know that I was loved.

As I got older, just like most people, I had in my head what I wanted out of life.  What a normal life would be.  A nice house, new vehicle, handsome husband, beautiful children, and the white picket house.  That’s all good on paper and in the movies.  There is pressure more than ever to constantly strive for this idyllic life.  There is no perfectly normal life.  We all have craziness going on during different chapters of our life.  Then, there are days that go on and on.  Same thing day in and day out.  There is no perfect ending.  You are born and one day you die, but in the in between there is life.  The title of one of my favorite books sums it up.  The Magic of Ordinary Days.  We have this perception that everything in our life needs to be in place to have a normal life.  Not going to happen.  You think one day it will, but then you will be like Doc Holliday on his deathbed, and realize there is only life. There will be ups, downs, sideways, but it’s all part of living.  And you know what?  My idea of normal might nowhere touch on your idea of normal.  So….let’s get on with it.  Let’s live our lives and constantly seek out moments of joy and happiness.  But….let us also embrace the normal rhythm of life, and may it soothe our soul.

All the best,

Stella Elaine

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Don’t Blink

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I sat in the waiting room of my youngest son’s Pediatrician earlier this week as I have done many times before with him and his oldest brother.  I looked around the waiting room surrounded by young mothers and a few fathers with their tiny babies and rambunctious toddlers.  Let me just tell you.  I was feeling my age.  I thought to myself…”you’re probably old enough to be a mother to some of the parents you are looking at.”  My motherhood journey had started in the early 90’s, and here I am in 2021 still rocking on.  Of course, my babies are now taller than me.  I frequently assure them that I can still take em’ out if need be.  I felt somewhat out of place sitting there.  I was no longer trying to soothe a baby or wrestle a toddler.  I had a somewhat moody teenager sitting next to me.  He had already told me he was getting too old to be in there with all the babies.  How well I knew.  Somewhere along the way, I had blinked, and now I had one son grown, and my youngest was on the fast track to being grown.

The parents that surrounded me in the waiting room that day seemed so foreign to me.  Most of the mothers I saw were young and had tattoos on their arms and legs.  I was sitting there with not the first one.  Must be a generational thing.  I thought.  For one thing, I don’t remember having the extra money at their age for expensive colorful high definition tattoos.  Secondly, tattoos were not that popular when I was younger.  Somewhere along the way, mothers have changed.  Maybe in their appearance, but I felt confident not the love and bonding that takes place between any good mother and her precious child.  A young mother sitting beside me with her mask on was trying to soothe her two month old baby.  A mother across the room was trying to hold her toddler son in check.  Those toddlers can be squirrely at times.  Another mother surrounded with four well behaved children was trying to fill out all the paperwork that is required these days.  There I sat with my very chill 15 year old son.  I felt like I had achieved an optimal level as a mother.  I remember those days.  Attempting to console and pacify my little babies.  Later on when they reached those very active toddler years, I remember chasing them around the examination rooms.  Trying to make them behave while waiting on the doctor to come in. My oldest son would accept his shots like a stoic martyr, and my youngest would fight like a wild banshee, and scream bloody murder.   Needless to say, I was a nervous wreck by the time we left.  The joys of motherhood.  You know what?  I’d all do it all over again. 

I was almost 23 years old when I had my first son.  I had absolutely no idea what to expect pregnancy wise or motherhood wise.  It’s one of those things.  You shut your eyes and dive right in.  Something along the lines of being tried by fire.  Motherhood is a sink or swim situation.  Some days you swim like you’re in the Olympics.  Other days you’re on autopilot doing the backstroke.  Then, there are days you are treading water.  Trying to hold it all together.  Sinking is not an option.  You have little human beasts (did I say that?!  I meant beings.) depending on you.  Are you tired?  Beyond tired?  Guess what?  You keep going.  You find an inner strength you never knew you had.  My first pregnancy catapulted me into motherhood with an emergency cesarean after 15 hours of labor.  I was in the hospital for a week.  I thought my nurse had lost her mind when she came into my room the following morning telling me I needed to get up, and walk around.  My response was..”are you aware I just had a cesarean?”  She responded “yes honey, now get up and walk around.”  No rest for the weary has been my Mama mantra ever since.

Almost twelve years later I had my second son.  By then, I had come close to having a hysterectomy, dealt with fertility issues, and had experienced a miscarriage.  His birth was supposed to be by a planned cesarean, but our “little man” decided to come early.  I was awake for his birth as opposed to his brother’s birth.  I remember crying when they placed him by my head so I could see him for the first time.  I don’t think I truly believed I was having another baby until I laid eyes on him.  He was such a tiny fella compared to his brother.  My oldest son weighed almost 9 lbs at birth, and here my second son didn’t even weigh 4 ½ lbs.  How in the world would I care for such a small baby?  I quickly learned as I had with my first child.   All babies need, regardless of size, is lots of  love, care, and food.  Those are the most important factors in raising happy babies.  Here’s an extra tidbit…let them know from the get go that they will never be too old for a hug from their Mama.  Love never fails.  

One of the sweetest visions you will ever lay your eyes on is that of a sleeping baby, toddler, or small child. I remember rocking my babies singing every song I ever knew to get them to sleep.  Many times, I rocked myself to sleep.   I laugh at the image of a sleeping toddler.  My oldest would fight a nap every time.  I remember laying down with him. Me needing a nap just as much as he did, if not more.  He would toss and turn.  Wanting to get out of the bed.  I was adamant.  He needed a nap, and I needed a nap, and also  some moments of peace.  In the end, we would both fall asleep.  I would wake up before him, and there he would lay.  The picture of peaceful serenity.  Of course, in all reality, it was the calm before the toddler Tasmanian devil woke up. 

I have always said that you need a healthy sense of humor to get through this life.  So…here I’ve been raising two boys for the last 27 years.  I grew up with a sister and two female cousins.  My poor grandfather had been outnumbered by all of us females growing up. Like any good man, he took it in stride.  He did a good job in preparing me for my life raising boys.   I grew up shooting hoops, riding my bicycle, building forts, playing softball and kickball, mowing the grass, learning to drive a truck,  and fishing.  I was never a girly girl so being a “boy” mom was fine by me.  To be surrounded by good looking men folks the rest of my life is no bad thing.  Although, they can be aggravating at times.  For the most part, keep them fed, and all will be well.

 As mothers, we all go through trials that can break our spirit if we let them. Days when we could easily stay in bed.  Nights that you think will never end with babies that are sick or refusing to stay in bed.  It’s during those tough times that you draw on your inner strength, put your big girl panties on, and push through.  Those are the years you come into your own.  Over time, the uncertain woman that you used to be will blossom into a woman that can slay dragons, if need be. Believe me, there will be many “dragons” along the way.  Both of my sons have been the truest of blessings to me and my husband.  Children give you focus like nothing else in this world.  My husband frequently  jokes that we’ll be using walkers at our youngest son’s graduation.   I’ve got news for him…I will be moonwalking across the graduation stage when our youngest graduates!  Common core curriculum about killed me!  It will be time for one heck of a road trip! 

This is and will alway be The Good Stuff. 

All the best,

Stella Elaine

Trace Adkins – You’re Gonna Miss This

Middle Aged?…..When Did this Happen?!

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I was reading an article when I woke up one morning earlier this week.  Something I do most mornings in an effort to ease into the day.  My sweet disposition has to percolate and come to fruition like my morning coffee.  My reading that morning referenced middle aged people.  It got me to thinking…what age is considered middle aged?  Well….let me tell you.  Middle age covers the ages from 45-65.  It was a light bulb moment for me!  I’ve been middle aged for five years, and didn’t know it!!  That might explain some things.  Some changes in my body, my mind, my taste, and my attitude.  Recently, my husband and I were sitting on the couch one evening after work talking.  I made some remark.  His reply was “you’ve gotten a little bit salty.”  I guess he was talking about my sassiness which is more prevalent these days.  I later told a friend close to my age what my husband had said.  Her response was…”well, if I see a Salt Life sticker on the back of your SUV, it’s safe to assume it’s not about your love of the beach.”  We both laughed.  So with all that said, let’s talk about what these middle years bring to the table now that I’m apparently five years deep into this chapter of my life. 

The focus always seems to be on the Big 50, but now I am thinking the emphasis needs to be placed on the Big 45.  Attention…you have now entered the Middle Years of your life!   There’s a newsflash that would have gotten my attention.  Sure, I’ve been feeling my age.  Hearing the snap crackle pops when I get up in the morning.  Don’t get me started on the gray hair.  The last few years I’ve gone through phases of accepting it’s arrival to… it’s time to cover that mess up.  Don’t even mention my eyesight.  I recently thought to myself…I need to put a magnifying glass in my kitchen to read medicine bottles, recipes, and instructions on that box of brownie mix. My eye doctor asked me last year if I was ready to transition to bifocals.  I thought to myself…”have you lost your mind man?!” You’re talking to a person who was in denial at the age of 30 when I was told I needed glasses. Giving no thought to the fact that both my parents and all of my grandparents wore glasses.  I even teased my husband when the AARP junk mail started showing up when he turned 50 a couple of years ago.  I was oblivious that 50 was sneaking up on me, and middle age completely sneaked (snunk sounds better down South) up on me, and had been flying really low on my radar. This new, at least to me, revelation got me to thinking.  What has happened in my life the past five years to the point that I completely missed the memo that I was now “officially” middle aged.

 A few major events did happen in 2016.  My husband and I sold our “dream” house that we had built 12 years earlier.  It had taken us three years to sell.  Maybe subconsciously, we sensed change was in the air.  Middle age was approaching, and our dreams were changing. Dreams, hope, and goals are what have carried my husband and I through thirty plus years of marriage.  Our dreams may change, but our commitment to pushing forward never diminishes.  I remember the conversation between my husband and I.  We loved our neighborhood, but decided we were not neighborhood people.  It had been a great neighborhood to raise our boys in, but we were ready for some wide open spaces.  My husband loves animals and  working in the yard.  We lived in a small trailer in a trailer park when we first got married.  No..we were not trailer trash, and if we were, we were classy trailer trash. Making our way in the world.  No mama and daddy money.  We didn’t have much, but I guarantee you we had the best yard in the park, and our yard has been that way everywhere we have ever lived since.  We also thought a move to the country would be good for our boys.  Fishing, hunting, and dirt road living.  I know it’s not for everyone, but it is for us.  So here we are still working on making that dream a reality.  We will hopefully build the home that will carry us into our Senior years (say what?!) in the near future.  In 2017, my mother went through a rough medical patch.  To the point that my sister and I were looking at personal care homes for her.  My sister and I were having to help our mother with grocery shopping, doctor visits, paying bills, etc.  Thankfully, our mom bounced back, but I still help her as needed.  Then came a major blow in 2018 as I have discussed in my previous blog posts.  My sister was diagnosed with colon cancer at the age of 42.  That turned our world upside down. Funny how things can really go sideways in a very unexpected way.  As a family, we are still coming to terms with her loss this past November.  You might say I was too distracted by life to even realize this new juncture of life had crept up on me. We have lost family and friends that we loved dearly. These life events change you.  They shape you.  I was busy living and surviving.

So where are you at 50?  Did middle age sneak up on you?  By 50, you should have enough life experience under your belt to know what truly brings you joy and contentment.  That doesn’t mean that you will not continue to grow and evolve as a person, but you should have a better understanding of yourself. It won’t be like your teens and 20’s where you were floundering around trying to find your way.  I look back on some of my decisions wondering what in the world was I thinking?!  I tell myself.. “You were doing the best you knew how.” I was still in training.  I’m sure we can all say we are not the same people we once were.  By this time in life most of us have given marriage a go at least once.  More for some people.  You have a better idea of what you will and will not tolerate in a relationship and life in general.  I know it took years for my husband and I to fine tune the marriage we have now, and I can honestly say it’s been worth it.  Most of us at this age have children. I have two sons.  My boys are older, and don’t need me as much as they used to.  However, they are quick to ask me to cook their favorite meal or dessert.  Gotta feed the beasts.  Some of my peers even have grandchildren. I’m not rushing that one for the time being.  A lot of us have parents that are older, and now require help from us.  So…there is a constant pull from family, children, our parents, and work.  It is always about finding balance.  Keeping all the balls that you’re juggling in the air. 

 At this age, I find myself withdrawing from the rat race.  I don’t feel the need to impress anyone, and I am not impressed by much.  However, I am very impressed by  well-mannered and courteous people with a work ethic.  Something in short supply these days.  I thoroughly enjoy my morning commute once I have dropped my youngest son and his friend off at school. Time for me. Time to pull myself together and brace myself for the crazy demanding work day ahead.  Time for coffee and a tidbit of a podcast.  Podcasts?  That is a fairly new favorite way to pass time for me.  Lunch time?  No fanfare for me.  When I do go to lunch with a friend or two in my core group,  we are truly engaged in discussing what is going on in each other’s lives.  I could care less about their new shoes or pocketbook (or is it purse?).  We discuss our children, our jobs, our frustrations, and our joys.  Most days you can find me in solitude on my lunch break.  Sitting in my car, eating my lunch, and maybe watching a Cooking with Brenda Gantt video. It doesn’t bother me one bit to sit right there in my car by myself.   I would call this “me” time.  Time to veg out, but it’s really not.  It’s me tuning into what I really want. Taking time to soothe my sometimes weary soul.  This age brings about a better understanding of yourself and those you choose to surround yourself with because face it, we don’t have time or patience for anything else.  

Fifty…the BIG 50.  The first quarter of my middle years are done.  I know where I’ve been, and I have a better sense of where I am going.  Even with that, I also know that our paths can diverge or divert to another route at a moment’s  notice.  As the saying goes..”Life happens.”  It’s in the happening that you should find your balance.  Your equilibrium.  Even though times may be uncertain, you’ve been in uncharted waters before, but you now have the knowledge and experience to guide you through.  Some might call it getting a little long in the tooth.  I’ll take that.  I’ve earned it.  Choppy waters are not unknown to me.  I do know I have always come out on the other side.  Maybe a little worse for wear, but I made it. I bounce back stronger than ever.  I have survived every bad day and event that has happened in my life thus far.   I’m going to hit this 6th decade of my life head on.  Embrace it and keep moving forward.  There’s no going back.

All the best,

Stella Elaine

Forever 44 and the Love She Left Behind

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I knew this day would come.  It has been a special day in my life since 1976.  I received a special delivery, and my world was forever changed for the better.  I had prayed for that day to come, and it did.  From that day forward I was a big sister.  Today is my sister’s birthday.  She would have been 45.  Never in a million years would I have imagined that we would not grow old together.  We would not take more road trips together. We would not talk or text each other at least once a day.  I think about all the what might have beens, but all I have to hold onto is what we did have and the memories.  Forty-four years of ups, downs, joy, heartbreak, frustration, and boundless love.  We had forged through those times with fierce determination and a healthy sense of humor.   I can’t think of a birthday where we weren’t together or at a minimum spoke on the phone.  If we spoke on the phone, we were making plans as to when we would get together, what we would do to celebrate, and most of all, where we would go eat.  We have so many good memories.  Now, my sister is gone.  She passed away in November of last year.  I did not see the signs this time last year, but now looking back at our daily texts and pictures and recalling our daily conversations, my sister had begun the last leg of her journey. She had put up a tenacious fight, but she was growing weary of her arduous cancer battle.  

The first five years of my life I was an only child, as my sister would be my only sibling.  We were a pair from the time she showed up on the scene, and formed a bond that siblings can only dream of having.  The commonality of our life experience is what made us closer.  There was never jealousy or competition between us. If one of us was happy or sad so was the other.  We had battles ahead of us, and we would face them together.  Our parents divorced when I was almost six and she was about nine months old.  That was the beginning of our life with a mentally ill mother.  Another story or even a book for another time.  My sister and I throughout our life have been surrounded by loving and caring family members, as you will gather in my last blog post, “Granddaughter of the Greatest Generation.” Birthdays were always a happy time with cake, ice cream, gifts, family, and most often friends. 

A life well lived is what my sister had.  She was cute as a button when she was a small child. Our grandmother often called her “Sunshine,” and sing the song “You are My Sunshine” to her.  I’m sure the song was a favorite of my grandmother as it was a popular song during her younger years.  I was never jealous of her being called that because she was our Sunshine.   I, myself, sang it many nights to my boys rocking them to sleep.  My sister would kill me for telling this, but I often teased her about her “Buster Brown” haircut.  It had suited her to a T.  She was the most happy go lucky child.  She was even that way as an adult.  I know she had some down moments, but for the most part she was always positive, and  went with the flow.  We were side by side from the time she was born.  I was her protector.  I think the biggest disagreement we had as children was when I could not watch “The Incredible Hulk” because the Hulk scared her.  She would have bad dreams.  Needless to say, I got over it.  Later on during her countless hospitalizations and times of being homebound, I would be with her, and we would watch Food Network cooking shows.  Here she was, could not eat any real food, and we were watching Bobby Flay throw down in the kitchen.  Lots of irony in this thing we call life. 

My sister met her future husband in their senior year of high school, and they married the December after they graduated.  She hit the ground running with married life. She and her husband worked hard to build a life together.  She had two handsome sons who she doted on, and loved with all her being.  It breaks my heart to know that she will not be here to see her youngest son graduate from high school.  My sister loved children, and cared for her nephews and niece like they were her own.  We always thought it was ironic that she and I had sons, and had only grown up around girls.  Our grandfather, we knew deep down,  had wanted grandsons, but ended up with four grandgirls. He took us four grandgirls in stride, and taught us so much. To this day, I can hammer a nail like it’s nobody’s business.  My sister and I often talked about how proud our granddaddy would have been of our boys.  He had only lived long enough to see my oldest son.  I still remember the proud smile on his face when seeing my son for the first time.   One of my sister’s biggest regrets with her cancer diagnosis was that more than likely she would not live to see her grandchildren.  We had talked so many times about our grandparents, and what they meant to us. They had been excellent role models to us, and we hoped to live up to their example of what grandparents should be.

My sister leaves behind a husband, two sons, our mom, me and my family, her husband’s family, cousins, and a slew of friends.  The love she bestowed on those in her circle was boundless, and even overflowed to her precious fur babies.  I remember she had just been diagnosed with her colon cancer, and someone dropped three kittens off in her front yard.  I told her…”Mendy…now is not the time to take on more animals.”  I know I couldn’t have.  A cancer diagnosis is a large pill to swallow.  During her two plus years of battling cancer she had three dogs and three cats. However, on the days where she was home by herself, her furry companions provided true companionship for her.  Two of her dogs had to be put down during that time, and of all things, one of them had to be put down due to cancer.  Her favorite dog, Oscar (still living) was by her side constantly during her battle.  When the final days were at hand, he was right by her side.  Dogs know.  My husband and I also had to put down our dog of 10 years due to cancer.  To me, it was about too much. Our vet gave us options which were costly and not guaranteed.  I was trying day by day to process my sister’s diagnosis, and the fight for her life that ensued. My sister came first.  My focus was on my sister, but my sister was an animal lover from way back.  I think she was hooked when our cat growing up had kittens in her bedroom closet.  In another life or if given the opportunity in this life, she would have made one heck of a veterinarian.  That’s how life is.  No fairness at times.  You just get up each day, and give it all you’ve got.   You realize no matter what we dream or hope for, your path can go in directions you never imagined.  Some of those paths will be hard.  Very hard.

Not only was my sister tight with her family, she was surrounded by what I would call a posse of girlfriends.  They often got together at each other’s houses to grill out or for lasagne.  They might go out to eat somewhere that featured trivia night.  One of her special friends arranged to have butterflies released at my sister’s graveside during her final rites.  My sister loved butterflies, and it was a loving final gesture of her friend.   She was also loved by her co-workers from the jobs she had held over the years.  They were part of her circle, and they loved her as much as she loved them.  

We none know the timeline of our lives.  I think we all just assume we have forever, and there will always be another tomorrow.  I hate to break it to you, but we don’t have forever, and our lives can change on a dime.  Michael Landon, who played the role of Pa (Charles Ingalls) on Little House on the Prairie, was a favorite of mine.  He was diagnosed years ago at the age of 54 with pancreatic cancer.  He was quoted at the time saying “Somebody should tell us, right at the start of our lives, that we are dying.  Then we might live life to the limit, every minute of every day.  Do it! I say.  Whatever you want to do, do it now!  There are only so many tomorrows.”  It’s sad that it takes a terminal diagnosis for any of us to realize the true value of living a purposeful and fulfilling life.  It’s almost like a wake up call.  You better get with it.  The clock is ticking!! Life is unyielding.  There are days when this life will kick you in the teeth, and sometimes repeatedly.  Do your dangdest (disclosure if you haven’t figured it out– I’m Southern) to fill your life with love, happiness, hard work, and determination.  Give it all you’ve got.   I remember losing my grandfather when I was in my 20’s.  It was a devastating loss.  He had played such a consequential role in my life.  My grandmother passed away at the age of 88.  Fourteen years after my grandfather. She too, had a remarkable impact on my life, but I had watched her decline, and her quality of life deteriorate.  She was give out, as people say, and ready to go on to her reward.  I had peace about that.  She had lived a full life, and given all of herself that she had to give. Love, time, patience, and guidance.

Coming to terms with the passing of my sister is a journey.  I was going to say “has been a journey,” but I still struggle day to day knowing that she is not coming back.  Some days are better than others.    There are days when I think..”I need to call my sister.” but knowing I can’t will bring tears to my eyes.  Time does lessen the pain of losing her, but it never completely goes away.  I hold onto the quote from Lord Tennyson’s poem “In Memorium 16.”  “Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.”  I am beyond grateful for the years I had with my sister.  My life and the lives of so many others are richer because of the time my sister spent on this earth.  She has left a tremendous void, but the love she has left behind will carry us all through.  She will not grow old with me as I just assumed she would.  She is forever 44.

Happy Birthday Sunshine.

Granddaughter of the Greatest Generation

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Growing up, I always knew my grandparents were special.  They were a vital and integral part of my life.  Not until years later when I married, and had my own children, did I realize what a blessing it was to have had them in my life.  I can only hope to be half the grandparent they were to me.  I remember hearing about Tom Brokow’s book The Greatest Generation, but at the time I don’t think I fully grasped the magnitude of how great that generation was.  Now more than ever I consider it an honor to have had their influence in my life. What made this generation born in the early 1900’s so special?  My reading on this topic indicates their personal responsibility, integrity, humility, work ethic, financial prudence, and faithful commitment are the key characteristics that make them stand out.  What are our current generations bringing to the table?  What generation are you from?  What are you bringing to the table? What will be the  legacy of your peers?  

  • The Greatest Generation — born 1901-1924. …
  • The Silent Generation — born 1925-1945. …
  • Baby Boomer Generation — born 1946-1964. …
  • Generation X — born 1965-1980. …
  • Generation Y — born 1981-1996. …
  • Generation Z — born 1997-2012. …
  • Generation Alpha — born 2013-2025.

Work ethic is one that really stands out for me.  My grandparents were loving and caring, but most of all they prepared me for a world where I could hold my own.  I remember being put to work when I was at their house.  I learned to mow the grass, check the oil in a vehicle, cook, clean, wash their cars, and you most definitely did not sleep late.  It was rise and shine each morning.  I began living full-time with my grandparents at the age of 16.  Back in the 80’s most teenagers had a part-time job.  I had lofty dreams of getting a job at the mall.  That was where it was happening, and my perceived place for the perfect job.  I’ll never forget, my granddaddy came home one day, and informed me that I was to report to Harveys, our local supermarket, on Tuesday. He further informed me that I had a job as a cashier.  I wasn’t too thrilled, but I went.  Of course, I dressed in my Sunday best, and prissed on in there that next Tuesday morning.  To my dismay, I was given a green polyester uniform!  I look back now, and I know it was one of the best things that ever happened to me.  It gave my burgeoning work ethic a significant boost.  I learned how to deal with and communicate with co-workers and the public.  I was making my own money.  I also look back, and know that I am not above any type of honest work in order to provide for my family.  They and the generations before them knew that if you didn’t work, you didn’t eat.  Your hard work probably would not result in you being the richest man in the county, but you would be able to cover the needs of your family.  Just as my grandparents had done all through the years.  A conversation with my mother the other day brought to surface a phrase I have used with my boys numerous times over the years.  It was something that just spilled out when I was trying to give them a pep talk.  My mother was telling me when she was growing up her mother, my grandmother, would constantly tell her “Can’t never could.”  It was a lightbulb moment.  I had long forgotten that my grandmother probably told me the same thing when I was growing up, and it was forever ingrained in my psyche.  

Financial prudence…  Do we really know the meaning of such?  In our consumer driven world? We can’t wait to buy the newest cell phone.  Will it be an android or an iphone?  Are you driving the last model SUV or truck that Ford or Chevrolet has to offer?  Are you going broke keeping up with the Joneses?   My grandparent’s generation worked hard and saved.  I remember my grandmother saying she and my granddaddy did not have any furniture the first ten years of their married life.  One time when we were out driving, she showed me a little log cabin that they lived in during their early married years, and then a house they rented a room in. My grandmother said it was hard for couples with children to find a place to rent.  Most men in those days were the breadwinner, but oh, you can bet there was an equally hard working woman at home.  My grandmother maintained the household, but she also earned money by taking in sewing.  I remember being in my teen years, and by then the really tough times were behind my grandparents, but they never lost the frugality which had been part of their early years.  My grandmother, until the day she broke housekeeping, washed and reused ziplock bags and tin foil.  Something we wouldn’t even think of doing these days. Times were tough, but this generation would stand the test of time, and hit every obstacle head on.  

Humility… another great characteristic of this generation.  My grandparents had both grown up in rural north Georgia on farms.  My grandfather only attended school thru the 6th grade.  He was needed on the farm to help support his family.  My grandmother did attend school thru the 11th grade because that was as far as high school went at the time.  I remember her saying she had dreams of becoming a nurse, but her father said she’d had enough schooling.  That’s how things were back then.  My grandfather’s thirst for knowledge did not end in the 6th grade.  I have vivid memories of staying with my grandparents as a young child, and even as I grew older.  My grandfather would read from the encyclopedia every night.  He was one of the smartest men I have ever known.  There was no such thing as the world wide web then.  Although they grew up on farms, and left them behind when they went out into the world, they never forgot their roots.  My grandfather planted a garden until he was no longer able.  I asked my grandmother one time about the Great Depression.  I had been learning about it in school at the time.  It was presented as a really dire time in our history, and I am sure it was for a lot of people.  However, my grandmother’s response to my question was…”I never knew a depression was going on.  My family lived on a farm so we always had food.”  That really speaks to me now.  Most rural people did not live a glamorous life.  They worked hard and took care of their families. Having the latest fashions or the newest car was not even a factor in the equation.  The main focus was food on the table and a roof over your head.

Faithful commitment , yet  another quality of the Greatest Generation.  They came from a time where your word and commitment meant something.  They married, began their lives, and worked their way thru the good times and bad.  Was it easy?  No.  It never is.  Anything worthwhile takes a lot of hard work.  Days when you want to throw in the towel, and walk out the front door.  There are people that do.  There will always be circumstances where that might be the better choice, but for the most part, staying the course has so many rewards.  My grandparents were married 53 years when my grandfather passed away.  Did they have hard times in their marriage?  I’m sure they did.  Most couples do.   They built a legacy of hard work, commitment to each other and their family, faith and love that I hope to carry on.   Commitments should not be taken lightly as they are nowadays. They invested themselves into their grandchildren with their time and guidance. The solidity that a strong family unit  brings to the table is priceless. Ties to your family were to be maintained and nurtured. Something we really need a resurgence of.  To have your “ride or die” family members by your side through the ups and downs this life throws at any given moment is worth its weight in gold.  

Integrity is slowly vanishing from the vernacular of the current landscape.  Integrity is defined as being honest and having strong moral principles.  Somewhat of a code that you live by. It is having the option to do things the right way or wrong way, but choosing to do the right thing.  My grandparents had morals and standards which they passed onto me. Regardless of the riches you may or may not have, integrity is something that no amount of money can buy. Respect and integrity go hand in hand.  You earn it and you have it within you.  We live in a world today where it seems anything goes, and the growing attitude is…well, that’s just the way it is.  You know what?  It doesn’t have to be.  It wasn’t always that way, and now more than ever we need to circle back to the qualities that make up a person of substance. It is more important than ever to teach your children what integrity is, and the best way for them to learn is to see it in action.  Just as I grew up seeing how my grandparents conducted themselves.  Home is where it all begins.  If you think your child will learn integrity on the streets, you are sorely mistaken.  

With all that said…..I think it’s time for another Great Generation.  Most of us in Generation X had grandparents from the Greatest Generation, and we have that legacy within us.  In these times where work ethic, integrity, humility, commitment, and financial prudence are lacking, it’s time to get back to our roots.  I see couples starting off their marriages with over the top weddings and settling right into a home that took previous generations years to obtain.  There is power in the struggle.  My own marriage has been a journey.  We started off in a very small trailer until we were able to buy something better.  We got up each morning and went to work, and we still do.   At one time, we were both driving cars with no air conditioner.  We made do until we could do better.  Those hard times are what make you or break you.  The hard times made my husband and I stronger.  We became a team during those times.  With regards to our sons, we have instilled in them  that this world demands hard work.  We’ve had to work hard for what we have, and we expect them to do the same.  The worst thing a parent can do is to give their children their every heart’s desire, and let them believe this world owes them everything.  This world owes you nothing, and will chew you up, and spit you out.  They will enter the adult world at a severe disadvantage.  I don’t care what your religious beliefs and political standings are.  Just be a person of substance and standards in this chaotic world.  Guide the next generation.  We are all fighting our way through this life’s journey.  We can all be better together.  The hard work will pay dividends.

All the best,

Stella Elaine

#GreatestGeneration2.0

Granddaughter of the Greatest Generation

/ stella elaine / 1 Comment

Growing up, I always knew my grandparents were special.  They were a vital and integral part of my life.  Not until years later when I married, and had my own children, did I realize what a blessing it was to have had them in my life.  I can only hope to be half the grandparent they were to me.  I remember hearing about Tom Brokaw’s book The Greatest Generation, but at the time I don’t think I fully grasped the magnitude of how great that generation was.  Now more than ever I consider it an honor to have had their influence in my life. What made this generation born in the early 1900’s so special?  My reading on this topic indicates their personal responsibility, integrity, humility, work ethic, financial prudence, and faithful commitment are the key characteristics that make them stand out.  What are our current generations bringing to the table?  What generation are you from?  What are you bringing to the table? What will be the  legacy of your peers?  

  • The Greatest Generation — born 1901-1924
  • The Silent Generation — born 1925-1945
  • Baby Boomer Generation — born 1946-1964
  • Generation X — born 1965-1980
  • Generation Y — born 1981-1996
  • Generation Z — born 1997-2012
  • Generation Alpha — born 2013-2025

Work ethic is one that really stands out for me.  My grandparents were loving and caring, but most of all they prepared me for a world where I could hold my own.  I remember being put to work when I was at their house.  I learned to mow the grass, check the oil in a vehicle, cook, clean, wash their cars, and you most definitely did not sleep late.  It was rise and shine each morning.  I began living full-time with my grandparents at the age of 16.  Back in the 80’s most teenagers had a part-time job.  I had lofty dreams of getting a job at the mall.  That was where it was happening, and my perceived place for the perfect job.  I’ll never forget, my granddaddy came home one day, and informed me that I was to report to Harveys, our local supermarket, on Tuesday. He further informed me that I had a job as a cashier.  I wasn’t too thrilled, but I went.  Of course, I dressed in my Sunday best, and prissed on in there that next Tuesday morning.  To my dismay, I was given a green polyester uniform!  I look back now, and I know it was one of the best things that ever happened to me.  It gave my burgeoning work ethic a significant boost.  I learned how to deal with and communicate with co-workers and the public.  I was making my own money.  I also look back, and know that I am not above any type of honest work in order to provide for my family.  They and the generations before them knew that if you didn’t work, you didn’t eat.  Your hard work probably would not result in you being the richest man in the county, but you would be able to cover the needs of your family.  Just as my grandparents had done all through the years.  A conversation with my mother the other day brought to surface a phrase I have used with my boys numerous times over the years.  It was something that just spilled out when I was trying to give them a pep talk.  My mother was telling me when she was growing up her mother, my grandmother, would constantly tell her “Can’t never could.”  It was a lightbulb moment.  I had long forgotten that my grandmother probably told me the same thing when I was growing up, and it was forever ingrained in my psyche.  

Financial prudence…  Do we really know the meaning of such?  In our consumer driven world? We can’t wait to buy the newest cell phone.  Will it be an android or an iphone?  Are you driving the last model SUV or truck that Ford or Chevrolet has to offer?  Are you going broke keeping up with the Joneses?   My grandparent’s generation worked hard and saved.  I remember my grandmother saying she and my granddaddy did not have any furniture the first ten years of their married life.  One time when we were out driving, she showed me a little log cabin that they lived in during their early married years, and then a house they rented a room in. My grandmother said it was hard for couples with children to find a place to rent.  Most men in those days were the breadwinner, but oh, you can bet there was an equally hard working woman at home.  My grandmother maintained the household, but she also earned money by taking in sewing.  I remember being in my teen years, and by then the really tough times were behind my grandparents, but they never lost the frugality which had been part of their early years.  My grandmother, until the day she broke housekeeping, washed and reused ziplock bags and tin foil.  Something we wouldn’t even think of doing these days. Times were tough, but this generation would stand the test of time, and hit every obstacle head on.  

Humility… another great characteristic of this generation.  My grandparents had both grown up in rural north Georgia on farms.  My grandfather only attended school thru the 6th grade.  He was needed on the farm to help support his family.  My grandmother did attend school thru the 11th grade because that was as far as high school went at the time.  I remember her saying she had dreams of becoming a nurse, but her father said she’d had enough schooling.  That’s how things were back then.  My grandfather’s thirst for knowledge did not end in the 6th grade.  I have vivid memories of staying with my grandparents as a young child, and even as I grew older.  My grandfather would read from the encyclopedia every night.  He was one of the smartest men I have ever known.  There was no such thing as the world wide web then.  Although they grew up on farms, and left them behind when they went out into the world, they never forgot their roots.  My grandfather planted a garden until he was no longer able.  I asked my grandmother one time about the Great Depression.  I had been learning about it in school at the time.  It was presented as a really dire time in our history, and I am sure it was for a lot of people.  However, my grandmother’s response to my question was…”I never knew a depression was going on.  My family lived on a farm so we always had food.”  That really speaks to me now.  Most rural people did not live a glamorous life.  They worked hard and took care of their families. Having the latest fashions or the newest car was not even a factor in the equation.  The main focus was food on the table and a roof over your head.

Faithful commitment , yet  another quality of the Greatest Generation.  They came from a time where your word and commitment meant something.  They married, began their lives, and worked their way thru the good times and bad.  Was it easy?  No.  It never is.  Anything worthwhile takes a lot of hard work.  Days when you want to throw in the towel, and walk out the front door.  There are people that do.  There will always be circumstances where that might be the better choice, but for the most part, staying the course has so many rewards.  My grandparents were married 53 years when my grandfather passed away.  Did they have hard times in their marriage?  I’m sure they did.  Most couples do.   They built a legacy of hard work, commitment to each other and their family, faith and love that I hope to carry on.   Commitments should not be taken lightly as they are nowadays. They invested themselves into their grandchildren with their time and guidance. The solidity that a strong family unit  brings to the table is priceless. Ties to your family were to be maintained and nurtured. Something we really need a resurgence of.  To have your “ride or die” family members by your side through the ups and downs this life throws at any given moment is worth its weight in gold.  

Integrity is slowly vanishing from the vernacular of the current landscape.  Integrity is defined as being honest and having strong moral principles.  Somewhat of a code that you live by. It is having the option to do things the right way or wrong way, but choosing to do the right thing.  My grandparents had morals and standards which they passed onto me. Regardless of the riches you may or may not have, integrity is something that no amount of money can buy. Respect and integrity go hand in hand.  You earn it and you have it within you.  We live in a world today where it seems anything goes, and the growing attitude is…well, that’s just the way it is.  You know what?  It doesn’t have to be.  It wasn’t always that way, and now more than ever we need to circle back to the qualities that make up a person of substance. It is more important than ever to teach your children what integrity is, and the best way for them to learn is to see it in action.  Just as I grew up seeing how my grandparents conducted themselves.  Home is where it all begins.  If you think your child will learn integrity on the streets, you are sorely mistaken.  

With all that said…..I think it’s time for another Great Generation.  Most of us in Generation X had grandparents from the Greatest Generation, and we have that legacy within us.  In these times where work ethic, integrity, humility, commitment, and financial prudence are lacking, it’s time to get back to our roots.  I see couples starting off their marriages with over the top weddings and settling right into a home that took previous generations years to obtain.  There is power in the struggle.  My own marriage has been a journey.  We started off in a very small trailer until we were able to buy something better.  We got up each morning and went to work, and we still do.   At one time, we were both driving cars with no air conditioner.  We made do until we could do better.  Those hard times are what make you or break you.  The hard times made my husband and I stronger.  We became a team during those times.  With regards to our sons, we have instilled in them  that this world demands hard work.  We’ve had to work hard for what we have, and we expect them to do the same.  The worst thing a parent can do is to give their children their every heart’s desire, and let them believe this world owes them everything.  This world owes you nothing, and will chew you up, and spit you out.  They will enter the adult world at a severe disadvantage.  I don’t care what your religious beliefs and political standings are.  Just be a person of substance and standards in this chaotic world.  Guide the next generation.  We are all fighting our way through this life’s journey.  We can all be better together.  The hard work will pay dividends, and not just the financial kind.

All the best,

Stella Elaine

Follow me on Instagram (StellaElaine50) for updates on upcoming posts and also for words of encouragement.

#GreatestGeneration2.0

Taking a Day of Rest

/ stella elaine / Leave a comment

Taking a day of rest is needed more than ever. I made it a priority today. With ever increasing stress from work and life in general, it’s imperative to step back, disconnect, refocus, and reenergize for the week ahead. So….hello August. I hope you’ll be kind. 🦋

I Woke Up Different That Day

/ stella elaine / Leave a comment

I woke up different that day.  I had received a call in the early morning hours, and then cried myself back to sleep.  It was a call I had known for a while that would come.  No matter how prepared you think you are, you will never be ready for that call.  I got up knowing what needed to be done.  I had an hour’s drive ahead of me.  A conversation that would have to take place.  Plans that would need to be made.  I got ready while in a state of shock and disbelief.  I could not wrap my head around what my loved ones and I had been through, and what the next few days would bring for all of us.  All I wanted to do was get back in bed, and pull the covers over my head.  As the lyrics to Ray Price’s song now rang so true …..”Make the world go away.”  

I have always been partial to traveling rural highways as opposed to the ever busy interstate.  The slow and steady pace is more my speed. Slowly driving along to take the countryside in.  Maybe stop at a roadside stand selling farm fresh tomatoes, and buying some boiled peanuts for the road.  Watching the farmers till the land that would put food on our tables.  Looking at all the old farm homesteads.  Beautiful old houses that had been filled with loving and hardworking families so many years ago.  Now just faded memories filled those walls.   My grandfather had been the one to teach me how to drive.  He always put me behind the wheel whether driving on the interstate or on the slower paced back roads.  I didn’t know it at the time, but so many of the things he taught me was to prepare me for a world I would live in when he was gone.  People driving on the interstate are always in such a rush to get where they are going. I was in no rush that day.  I had traveled these roads so many times growing up and as an adult.  I could probably make the trip in my sleep.  I drove along.  Playing all my favorite old country songs.  Merle Haggard…”Going Where the Lonely Go.”  I drove along as if in a time warp.  Time stood still.  The drive I had made so many times seemed to go on forever.  Somewhere in the recesses of my mind I wished it would.  Forever stuck in that moment, and not having to confront what lay ahead.

A little more than halfway to my destination, on the outskirts of a small country town, I spotted the two graves that I always take notice of when traveling this rural road.  So close to the side of this rural highway.  I have often thought to stop, look at the dates and names of the two individuals that are resting there in peace.  At least, I hope in peace.  So near the side of the road.  What were the circumstances of their death?  Did their loved ones feel the immense void at their death that I now felt?  Why were they buried on the side of the road?  Mental note to research how long this rural highway had been in use, and possibly dig up the story behind the demise of these two souls.  I’m curious like that.

I remember being almost to where I was going when I saw the most beautiful field of sunflowers.  It was almost the middle of November, but it did not strike me as odd for sunflowers to be in full bloom that time of year.  Seeing those sunflowers standing tall gave me inspiration that I had been looking for.  My sister had always loved sunflowers.  She would have loved seeing this field full of her favorite flower.

I drove on.  Ever nearing my final destination.  My time on the highway time warp was coming to an end.  I pulled up at my mother’s home.  Got out of my car.  My legs felt like concrete.  It was all I could do to sit down on the sofa.  Trying to figure out how to say what I was there to say.  Of course, my preference is to always be direct and straightforward.  No need to sugar coat the cold hard heartbreaking truth.  I was there to tell my mother that her youngest daughter and my only sister was dead.  I sat there trying to be strong.  Hold it all together.  I wanted to scream my head off.  Punch a hole in the wall.  Raw grief that can only subside with time.  But….I had to hold it together for my mother.  I had to be strong because I was in no shape to deal with her.  For over two years, I had been by my sister’s side as she fought cancer.  I had been filling the gap for our mother while first and foremost being there as her sister. There are people that hit life head on.  Take what life throws at them. Push through the hard times.  People that do the heavy lifting that this world demands, and there are those that rely on those types of people.  Our mother is not one of the heavy lifter types, and I have come to terms with that.  That is a story for another time. I would have been by my sister’s side regardless.  I had watched how cancer, multiple surgeries, numerous hospitalizations, and chemotherapy slowly ate away at her body and strength.  However, cancer never stole her spirit, tenacity, and love of life. My beautiful and full of life baby sister.  

Circling back to the field of sunflowers I saw on the way to my mother’s house.  When I went into my mother’s house, and sat on the sofa, the first thing I really noticed was a ceramic vase with sunflowers on her table.  That was my moment of confirmation.  I had my answer.  My brother-in-law had called me again sometime in the early morning once I was on the road to the town my mother and sister lived in.  He had given me a run down of what we needed to do that day.  One thing he had said was that he wanted my mom and I to pick out the spray for my sister’s casket.  At the moment, I was still numb, and could not even believe that we were having this conversation.  I remember thinking at the time that roses were beautiful, but really would not do justice to the beautiful vibrant woman my sister had been.  Her spray would have sunflowers, day lilies, and  greenery with butterflies inserted.  She loved butterflies and sunflowers.  Ladybugs and day lilies were my favorites.

I had known this day was inevitable. I remember being so angry with my mother when she had called me one day on my lunch break from work a few months before my sister passed to tell me we needed to start thinking about what we would wear to my sister’s funeral. I had had the same thoughts, but never in a million years would I have verbalized them.  To verbalize was to make this nightmare a reality.  An inevitable part of my sister’s cancer journey.  Yet here my mom and I were, my sister barely cold, and we were having to find appropriate clothes because that’s just what you do.  Thankfully, most funerals are not as formal as they once were.  Men in full suits.  Ladies in black dresses and black shoes with stockings.  My sister and I were never ones to wear dresses.  You will be hard to find many pictures with us wearing dresses as grown women.  Now…the two of us as little girls with a grandmother that loved to dress us up is another story.  Eventually, my mother and I found outfits that we were satisfied with.  I knew the next day would involve taking my husband and our two sons shopping.  I would make sure they would be dressed to make  my sister proud.  They would end up wearing khakis, white dress shirts, and matching purple ties.  I wore a purple blouse.  Purple was one of my sister’s favorite colors.  Until that afternoon at the funeral home, I had not even thought about what my sister would wear.  Thankfully, one of her friends had picked out an outfit that was perfect.  My brain was on auto-pilot, but yet in a fog.  I know my sister’s husband and sons were the same way.  To have people step in, and help means the world. 

My brother-in-law called me when their preacher stopped by the house to discuss Mendy’s funeral.  He wanted to speak to her family.  To hear our memories.  To make my sister real at her funeral.  To tell of the love she had for her family, friends, and fur babies.  We all stood in the kitchen.  Some seated. I was standing.  Trying to hold it together.  That preacher did not have enough time for me to tell him of the memories I had of my sister.  Forty-four years as my baby sister.  How do you condense that down to a few words that would ever do justice to her?  How I, as a five year old,  playing on our front porch with all my Little Golden Books spread out on the porch (my love of books started at a very early age), and I remember praying to God.  “Please send me a little sister.”  And..he did.  She would be my only sibling.  Would this preacher be able to comprehend the bond that my sister and I had?   We had been through so many trying times together.  So many shared experiences and memories.  We were different, but yet so much alike.  Would this preacher be able to convey what a wonderful wife, mother, sister, daughter, aunt, and  friend she was?  He would be able to say in all honesty that my sister had left a legacy of love.  

We all somehow made it through visitation.  Now the funeral.  I got up that morning.  Ironed the clothes that me and my guys (my husband and sons) would wear.  I had been so busy the past few days.  Just doing what had to be done.  I remember feeling like I had been hit by a ton of bricks.  I was in the kitchen, and had a picture of my sister, mom, and I in my hand.  I told my husband that I needed to take some pictures with me to the funeral.  I don’t know if I thought I would display them or what.  I felt the tenuous binds holding me together coming undone.  I remember breaking down.  Screaming that my sister was gone.  How could this have happened?!  My little sister was gone.  No more daily phone calls.  Talking about our boys.  She also has two sons. She was going to miss her youngest son’s high school graduation.  She would miss seeing grandbabies.  She loved children. Talking about our husbands.  Sharing the latest shenanigans that our mother was up to.  Planning a road trip that we would take when she was well.  We had always been in the same book, same chapter, and in the same sentence.   All of it was gone.  I pulled myself together.  As I have always done.  I needed to be strong for our mom, my guys, and  Mendy’s guys.

Mendy’s funeral was beautiful.  The flowers, her in her casket with the beautiful spray, and the video which showed the life she had built with love and happiness.  Family and friends gathered to say one final goodbye to her.  Butterflies, another favorite of hers, were released at her graveside service.  

The road of life we all travel has many hills, valleys, curves, and rough patches.  Sometimes the road can have a pure blow out.  There can be the highest of highs and the lowest of lows.  Along the way, if we’re lucky we also experience immense love.  The part of my life’s journey that had me walking with my sister during her cancer battle brought sadness, desperation, frustration, fear, hope, denial, acceptance, and ultimately a truer understanding of how fleeting life can be. You’ve got to love hard because in the end love is all you have.

I woke up contrary to any way I had ever known the day my sister died. My vision of the world had been dimmed, and only time would slowly bring color back into my world.  Robert Frost’s poem “Nothing Gold Can Stay” truly speaks to me.  My sister was solid gold.