HELLO?

 I started this blog 15 years ago. I was 56. I'm 71 as of a week ago. 

WOW!

So much has changed since then. I'm in the last season of my life now. and I still don't know what I want to be when I 'grow' up. I've worn many hats over the years. Student, daughter, sister, Mom, auntie, girlfriend, wife, grandmother (Nana) and yet to wear the great grandma hat. 

I've also worked most of my life. Busgirl, babysitter, waitress, McDonald's clerk, bowling alley clerk, drug dealer 😐, special needs caregiver, counselor apprentice, Drug/Alcohol Certified Counselor, model, secretary. Activities Director at nursing home, line worker/secretary/OSHA administrator for an electric component manufacturer, housekeeper in my own house cleaning business for over 17 years caregiver for Mom and brother Carl and finally a clerk in a boutique in my hometown.  I'm retired now.

I've had so many dreams. Not many have come true. I'm flexible. I revise and move on.

Today? It's 0ne Day At A Time. I'm grateful to have made it this far. I'm sure it wasn't by my own power but totally destined by my Higher Power, whom I chose to call God. I don't understand my Higher Power but I do KNOW I've not been alone in all my 71 years.

Hello? Is anyone out there?

It is almost Thanksgiving 2020 and I've not returned YET to my blog. So I guess this note is for me. I make lists now. More list making then ever in my 67 years. And on my most recent list I have listed 'return to blogging'.

Am I as lost as I wrote in my last two entries? No, I don't think so. But I am overwhelmed and maybe stuck wandering in a spiritual desert because I can't believe God would allow some of the stuff that have occurred in these past several years. Unless the end of this world, as we know it, is the current path we all are on? I'm tired of wandering in this spiritual desert. And I don't want to get caught in this spiritual desert if we are nearing the end of this world, as we've known it.

So ...

I hope to sort through my thoughts and organize them like I have been doing to my home and my Mom's home. Sort into piles the things I want to keep and the things I want, maybe need, to throw away, donate, or sell and unlock some chains that have been accepted as my friends but are toxic to my soul. Then write ... return to my passion regardless of my self judgments ... return to blogging.

Later ... 

Thanksgiving 2018

Harrison Clan peppered with Erwin, Wiegand, Shafer, Jones, Rodriquez and Schellpeper branches for perfect love seasoning!!! 

HELLO?

I'm still lost. No words to express the mess that fills my mind. I had hoped to return to my blog in 2018. HAH!  It's 2020 and I've not blogged a word! So is it too late?

So much has captured my thoughts from the thorn in my side, TRUMP, to new symptoms influencing my life from my Multiple Sclerosis that I've limited my media access to Facebook and Twitter. 

Lost ... 

Yes. Too Long Away. I'm Fighting My Way Back.

I'm not sure where to start. It has a long time since I've tried to blog. My silly mind has not been my friend for a few months and my Multiple Sclerosis is responsible for much of the shenanigans. So ...

This year started with me throwing a fit by cancelling all the holiday plans and staying home and pouting about a lab bill that caught me unaware of a sneaky out-of-network slap in the face. I protested the bill and spent several months sending appeals and talking on the phone with our insurance. It's a long, stressful story and the end results are still pending. When this nightmare is over, maybe I will blog about the whole experience then. Or not. I've no doubt anyone reading my blog can relate their own nightmares with insurance and outrageous medical costs so reading about mine may seem redundant. Just know my heart relates. 

I retired from my cleaning business in June of this year. It called for a celebration so we combined my 65th birthday and my retirement party together and God gave me one of the hottest Saturdays to have it on! My husband made the calls and smoked the pork for the pulled pork sandwiches that were featured in the food we served. I tried spend most of the day in front of a fan while enjoying dear family and friends that ventured out in the heat to help me celebrate. it was a worthy celebration in spite of the hot day. 

Note to self:  Though my husband means well and I love when he takes the initiative to sponsor such fun ... but IF I, too, wish to enjoy said fun then a caterer or party planner is to be hired. My husband rocks in the set up, meal planning and clean up, but when the party rolls out he is found drinking with his buddies or being the social butterfly I'd strive to be... but am more often found tending to the needs of the guests and making sure food is hot or cold for the long haul. 

Also in June, we went on a bike trip with our dear friends, John and Camille Oberg. Loved the whole trip and took lots of pictures so instead of this blog being so long that I waste my whole day in front of a computer, I will gather my pictures and post a few and tell the tales of that trip in my next post.

Until then ...

February 2017 .... ALREADY!!!!!

I've been through a thousand emotions, nearly alienated all of my republican relatives and still get some harassment on Facebook since the election of perverted Trumpikin! I didn't get to march in the largest protest march ever recorded ... the Woman's March on Jan 21st, 2017. One day after Trumpikin's inauguration. Nor did I get to march in any of the sister marches ... one even held in Lincoln, NE. But I beamed with pride, to be a woman, on that day of the recorded largest, peaceful, protest ever!!!

So .... where is this blog going? I am so very sorry, if by some crazy chance I have a follower or two, that I have neglected this media. I wish I could say that I've come to some conclusion but not so ...'m

I'm one of the ones that had to go back into counseling to deal with the Trump election which triggered all my abuse memories and I'm still trying to sort all that out, along with a diagnosis of MS and my husbands shoulder surgery that took place January 5th. 

Give me a bit more time to regroup. Please.

Really? REALLY? CHEETO TRUMP IS PRESIDENT?

REALLY?

Trump is president?

Well, this slimy, bigoted, narcissistic, sexual assaulter IS NOT MY PRESIDENT!

I'm still in shock! How? What the fuck!

My first post on Facebook was, 'Hey, motherfuckers, Trump is president!' 

I don't swear anymore. I tried to let it all hang out. No filters. I tried to be a Trump. You guessed it ... I got jumped on by the very people who voted for this slime, those that accepted his dickness but ... God forbid, I should try to be like Trump. How rude of me. OF ME? 

Don't try to be like Trump without a few billion in your back pocket.

Now there are rules. And only Trump can be such a fucking ass and be worshiped!

But I don't want to be worshipped.

I just want to be heard.

Trump as president is crazy!

Trump as president is suicide for democracy!

We just stepped into a complete dictatorship!

Hitler is truly reincarnated!

I've been thinking about what direction to take this blog of Sam's Thots. Up to now it has been A LOT of rambling. A mis-mash of poems, journaling of an experience or two, memories, photographs, and anything I've wanted to post. But no real direction. Do I want to limit myself?

SO TRUMP IS YOUR GUY?

So Trump is your guy?
That tells me much about you.
A bully you worship makes me sigh,
Because no self love have you come by.

He calls people awful names,
And enlists a hate that pollutes.
No respect for the President fame,
He's for all the self worship he can gain!

He calls people fat, ugly and stupid,
And yet you all fall for his divisive scraps!
His platform is so very putrid, 
His words full of decayed meaning muted!

Trump will be a fatal missile,
That will destroy our democracy design,
With a Hitler like tinsel,
And a 'LOOK AT ME I'M SO GREAT' type missile!

Missiles of hate and a miscreant,
He's breeding a change to freedom for ALL,
Breastfeeding venom to his minions to vent,
And building his empire of discontent!

All the unhappy think they found a voice,
But vampire Trump feeds on that pain,
Faking to you that he's your voice,
Only as long as you believe in HIS choice!

He truly hates you, hates us!
He is of the billionaires club,
And his way is full of abhorrence,
His path full of ignorance!

Yes, if Trump is your guy,
It tells me much about you.
You hate yourself so much that you'd lie,
Full of such hate and no desire to even try!

You've closed your mind,
You have no desire to know any truth!
A mind of hate doesn't want to find,
A love for us ALL to share and bind!

No, you'd rather kill with Trump in the lead,
And spit on your neighbor,
And sleep with your gun by your feet,
Irrational fear is ALL you see!

You are a different terror to me,
Yet not different than that which you fear,
And like those Muslims you'd hate to be,
You've have your own Sharia Law to feed!

Pretending to be so noble and brave,
Kissing Trump's feet like he's your god,
Not caring that there is no one he will save,
Or that he will send you to an early grave!

This is NOT like his reality TV show!
That is for entertainment built on all that is fake!
This is your life he'll deal a deadly blow, 
Becoming his greatest victim yet to grow!

Kiss your children goodbye,
Should this man become president,
Since Trump is your guy,
Prepare for all you love to die.

Sandra K. Harrison

February 5, 2016

The Pillars Have All Gone Now

I think it is interesting that my last post to this blog was about a pillar of my local church passing and the thoughts I had in the wake of losing him. That was back in November. It was my last post of 2015. This opening post of 2016 will begin with the loss of another pillar of my local church, Brother Max Towell. 

Brother Max (Pastor Max to me), died this past week and was laid to rest yesterday. It seems to me that he was the Pastor of my church home forever. But he only moved to Ogallala in 1969 when I was 16 years old. By that time I was a wild child. A few traumatic experiences between my baptism by Ivy Conner at 13 and that 16th year of my life, found me soured on God. I was also battling something that later would be labeled depression and my teenage hormones magnified everything into a crisis, I was a mess. Pastor Max had his hands full trying to tame this wild beast and, sadly, wasn't able to do so before I sneaked out of Grandma's house one late night, a few weeks after my son's birth, and ran pell mell into a dark life until the late 70's.

Son in tow, I ran away at the age of 18 and didn't come back until 1985. By then I was in my early 30's, separated from my husband, after five years of marriage, with my son and a four year old daughter. I ran back home from Lincoln, NE to protect myself and my children. I had married a recovering alcoholic whom became very scary when he returned, like a dog, to his own vomit. Years later he would sober up and become a walking miracle! I am very grateful for the friendship we now share.

Enter, Pastor Max. He and his wife, Viola, rented me a trailer that matched my budget. They then came to my new home for Bible lessons. I'd like to say I invited him. I just didn't say no when he asked if they could come 'visit' and those visits turned into Bible lessons for most of the time I lived in that trailer. I'd also like to say that it was a wonderful time. I was a challenge to them. I still carried a chip on my shoulder when it came to God so I asked them to explain a lot of why my life was a mass of violence, shame and heartache ... which they could not. It would take me several more years before I would learn to stop blaming God. But those visits were not lost on my heart. My soul may have been hardened but their love and patience with me softened it's core. And my heart bloomed with love for them. They were there during a tough time in my life and they anchored me to Hope.

Max and the Church of Christ family were like life rings to my dysfunctional family. Sometime after I had ran away from my Grandma's home, my Mom had begun to go to church regularly and, later, her 4th husband, whom proved to be a keeper, began attending and became one of those pillars in my life that brought me closer to loving God more than ever. 

I could never identify with a healthy father figure but with Pete I finally found a Dad ... a Father. He healed some deep wounds and he became my greatest draw back into the Church of Christ family. He and Mom loved Brother Max dearly and watching their faith grow made me respect Pastor Max and the Church of Christ all the more! I found I could finally pray to a loving Father because I experienced that love from some healthy 'Father' figures. I could pack away the God of violence that I falsely believed picked me as a punching bag. I finally recognized the changes I needed to make to bring this fascinating, loving, forgiving, Lord deep into my heart!

Max was there with such tenderness when Dad died. His son, Jay Towell, was then the 'Pastor' and in his inherited, skilled gift of teaching, officiated the most tender of funerals. I still hear the song he and his talented family sung, acappella, during that service. Brother Max was such a strength for my Mom during that difficult time and visited her often. 

When my Mom became very sick 8-9 years ago with a major infection, Max was one of the most frequent visitors with a couple of other 'Brothers' of the church family. Most folks were scared to come see Mom, but Max showed a love that overcomes fear. 

I was staying with Mom to care for her. I remember, I was having such difficulty understanding Mom's illness and keeping her home sterilized that one day, I just lost it. I mean, I really lost it! I was screaming at my Mom that I wished I had died during her difficult birth with me (I was a breach baby .... hm, that should explain why most of my walk through life has been butt first!) and hated having to deal with everything! Who should come to the door at that very moment ... Pastor Max and someone else ... darn if I can remember who came with him though. I just remember crumbling into a sobbing mess and dear Max helping me work through my despair and shame at screaming at Mom. He and his helper prayed over us and I, still to this day, feel that overwhelming calm that came over me that day. The memory still brings tears to my eyes. 

I feel very sad today. Those pillars of my life that have helped me become a less dysfunctional person have all gone now. Max was the last. His son is preaching in Red Cloud, NE... so far away ... and I will miss his tremendous gift of teaching God's word. 

I don't attend my church home regularly now-a-days. Something has changed. They are still the most awesome family and I love them all. I'm sure it is just me. I don't handle change well ... unless it is rearranging the furniture in my home. I like that change.

Well, Pastor Max, if you could see this post ... I would close with how much you will be missed. So many lives you touched. Such a life you lived! And an awesome banjo player to boot! I didn't remember that about you. But there you were with your banjo in that wonderful slide show of pictures they shared celebrating your life from youth til God took you home with Him. You would have enjoyed that slide show. Your family and dearest friends will miss you most. I love you, Max. I thank the Lord for you. I attribute my strong love for the Lord to you, sir. You had a big part in that love growing. 

You've got another good man there, Lord. I hope to see him again. Maybe I can see him, finally, pickin on that banjo? 

TsK Tsk Tsk

9-20-2015, Allan Brown died of a heart attack.

Allan was an elder at the Church of Christ in my home church and home town of Ogallala, NE. What a dear man!!!

We moved to Ogallala, NE from Paxton, NE the summer of my 13th year. A new neighborhood, a new school and a new group of friends. Sherrie Lee and Nola French invited me to church and it became a regular pattern for our Sunday's and Wednesday night's at the Church of Christ.

Allan was there, too. He and his wife Mabel and the rest of their family. I don't remember the kids as well as I remember Allan and Mabel. He was one of those members ... always warm and such a gentle soul ... unless you were three rowdy teenagers sitting in the back pews, giggling and not being respectful ... for then Allan, or Mabel, would become shoulder tappers. Or if he and Mabel sat in front of us, he would shake his head and Tsk, Tsk, Tsk, or he would just turn around and look stern. Regardless of what he did, it commanded our respect and swift mode to worship or song. He never let our rowdiness keep him from hugging us or just putting his arm around our shoulders or a loving hand upon our shoulder later.

He was stern and loving and time rigid and yet mostly forgiving. He was a great teacher and answered my questions with patience and honesty. I believe he was the first to tell me, when he didn't know an answer to some of my life question;

"I don't know, Sandy, but God does."

I don't know why such an answer, that really never answered my questions, was such a comfort to me. Maybe because Allan's faith in a God that knew everything and would reveal all one day was enough then and still calms and comforts me today.

I'm glad Allan was one of the first healthy influences for my troubled teen soul back then. I'm also grateful that he never wavered in his warmth and kindness toward me over the years since. Never mind that I'm not a regular church attendee, or that I often visit other church families. Allen always welcomed me and made me feel so at home.

Allan's kindness enveloped my Mother who came to my baptism during that 13th year and started attending regularly thereafter.Years later, both she and her 4th husband (whom I adored) would become members and elders. Allan enveloped our dysfunctional family in such love. Did he know he gave a couple of us a lifeline to change? 

Jesus was mimicked by many of those who were Church of Christ elders and nearly no stones were thrown. No stones were thrown by Allen Brown. He will be missed! I wish he knew how much of an impact he had on my family and I. God knows.

I am grateful I was able to attend Allan's funeral. It was a packed church, proving he touched the hearts of many. It was one of my favorite funerals to date. Can one have favorite funerals and not be considered odd?

A slide show sharing precious memories, a moving eulogy presented by his son revealed much I did not know about the father he loved, and the testimony of Allan's influence by several folks were special moments. 

Allan even wrote the message that was read by the officiating pastor, George Robinson, thereby preaching at his own funeral. A message that helped me understand why a funeral can be a celebration ... a reason to hold onto one's fork because the best is yet to come. Sorry, this is one of those 'should have been there' moments, to understand this fork reference.

Allan's message centered on Revelation 21 & 22, which focuses on Heaven. I had read Revelations 21 just that morning in my regular morning Bible reading. Hm ... I like to think that was a God moment and His way of letting Allan, once again, answer some lingering questions for me. 

I hope Allan would be smiling if he knew that though I don't attend a church regularly, I do read my Bible from cover to cover, over and over, 1-3 chapters nearly every day and have for the last 14 years. I wonder if Allan is where he can hear me talk to God every day and that I pray way more often now then I did when he use to encourage me to pray. 

I wish I could tell him that I'm less rowdy. Though the aging youngster that I am, knows that he would be Tsk, Tsk, Tsk'ing me about my life choices that I make today. Still ... I smile ... though I miss him, I am looking forward to that hug when I see him again and I imagine him saying;

"See, Sandy, God knew. Welcome home."

Heavy And Light

Heavy And Light

This is poem number 5 and the final one,

Last one for the 5 Day Poetry Challenge,

That Paige Namuth nominated me on,

Though for me it is instead the 5 Poem Challenge.

Time was my enemy for doing this right,

Sure I could post poems written before,

And not all new ones did I write,

Just no time to submit 5 days in a row.

So here's the last one I will submit,

But not the last one I will ever write,

Because to writing I'll always commit,

Covering topics both heavy and light.

Heavy are thoughts that must be penned,

A healing salve for deep soul wounds,

So on paper I empty my heart to lend,

And keep my soul from sickness bound.

Locking away all heavy thoughts,

Can build a darkness so thick,

That only crazy blues can be wrought,

And the body fills with nothing but sick!

I found this healing at a young seven,

When after beatings I wrote about it,

Adding how I would one day get even,

By making him suffer with the hate I'd spit!

Putting my heavy on paper back then,

Gave me room to let go of all the pain,

And I grew to become my best friend,

And let forgiveness be my gain.

It's the same with the world's heavy,

I like to write down my thoughts,

So I can sort and then levy,

And let go of all pain they wrought.

Now light writing is much more fun,

To joke and find laughter in life,

Makes all the darkness run,

And lifts the soul from all it's strife.

Light topics are full of smiles,

Like Donald Trump in the 2016 election,

His antics make laughing worthwhile,

Fodder for the best writing selection.

Or other light topics that can dispel gloom,

And give wings to a happy heart,

Like writing about how love can bloom,

Or life being as swift as a fart!

So rather heavy or light a poem is the way,

To create a picture that fits the mood,

To put in words that create a sway,

And make one smile or even brood.

Thank you Paige for this opportunity,

To share this one of my passions,

Though fearful of much scrutiny,

It's been worth my time and creation.

LIFE MOVING ON ...

Here is my 4th poem for the 5 day Poetry Challenge that I was nominated for on Facebook, by a very dear lady to my heart, Paige Namuth. I met her through her husband, Ron Namuth, whom was the Director of the Independence Center when I worked there in the late 70's - early 80's. This couple are locked in my mind trunk of precious memories from that time and a big part of the many changes I have made in my own life over the years since. Changes I made more through observing their own walk in life than from a close personal relationship with them. I had not had any contact with them once I moved away from Lincoln, NE in late 1985 .... until I joined the social media, Facebook, a few years back. Now I enjoy the memories that Paige often shares and find both of them in my thoughts nearly every day.

Anyway, Paige nominated me for this 5 day Poetry Challenge and it is probably suppose to include a poem a day for 5 consecutive days. But I suck at challenges, most of the time, and so, am doing 5 poems when I am able to take time to write a new poem or have time to copy one I've written over the years past from my poetry vault. 

Paige, I apologize for breaking any rules. I thank you for nominating me. It has given me opportunity to reflect on some of my past work and to put pen to hand for some new writings. It has also given me inspiration to return to my blog.

Life Moving On ...

I sit in my upstairs office,
Which use to be my daughter's room.
The walls are blue.
You picked blue, my daughter.
My blue eyed Pooh Bear.
Pooh Bear?
I latched on to that nickname,
After I heard my step-dad back in 1980,
Had nicknamed his youngest daughter,
His lil Pooh Bear.
It lovingly stuck on my own lil treasure.

Slept in my dark teal room last night,
Which use to be my step-son's room.
You picked this color, my son.
My son from a different mother,
Who can understand me,
As no one else ever has.
Greer became Clint. 
GC to those whom love him dearly, 
With a magic touch,
And a heart with a 6th sense,
A healer to those in physical pain.

A guest bedroom watches the sun set.
This was Shelby's eldest brother's room.
Only the furniture,
And the pictures have changed.
It is the room I meditate in.
Remember John, when we moved you out of it?
You'd leave food items in it to mold,
And so to the basement you were sent,
Which is now the most favored choice,
Of all the family when they come to visit.
The room that never has been finished to date.

My kids have all grown and left home.
They have their own rooms now,
Full of memories both good and bad.
That is life.
Rooms of memories,
Changed, yet old vibrations can still be felt.
I would have treasured more then,
If I had known,
How much I would miss them now,
And how empty these rooms,
Feel at times,
Now that you have all moved out,
                                   and on ....

Sandra K. Harrison

August 13, 2015

I was trying to cut/paste my poems from Facebook to blog but not savvy enough to figure out why they paste on top of each other or when previewing, only part of the poem shows in preview. Sooooo am doing it an old cumbersome way, a paste per new blog post! 

And so again:

Day 3 of the 5 day poetry challenge. Sorry but unable to do these days consecutively. (Started this challenge in mid July.) Hope I'm not breaking any rules. I'm suppose to nominate for this 5 day poetry challenge and so I nominate Justice Alicia via Mia Sandoval (here on Facebook) AND also Mia Sandoval. Mia, you could do a short poem and post it with your selfie of the day. Or not. You love theater so dream big. I also nominate April Teddlie.

THE FADE

What was it like to fade away?
All that was familiar is now strange.
Did they know they were fading?
Were plans made for such a change?

First it was post-it notes to instruct,
Then it was the lapse in time,
When you find them wandering,
Forgetting what they wanted to find.

Some get angry for no reason at all!
Can't say I blame them for such action,
With a whole world upside down,
And they at the center of attention.

Some just quietly disappear,
One day here and the next day gone!
No warning with these tender souls,
"Surprise, you're at the end of your life song!"

My heart breaks for such a burden,
When the mind leaves before the body.
When memories fade to total blank,
And you become their strange somebody.

Can I only pray this will all pass,
And not become my own fate?
Or am I destined to join the fade,
And never remember when it's too late?

Sandra K Harrison
August 1, 2015

NOTE: If I have any followers, you've probably noticed I have not been blogging regularly. I hope to remedy that. But no promises .... just in case I have some real fans. And no disrespect to such fans. I am in a funk and trying to work my way out of it. Par for the course for someone whom has fought depression most of her life and now may be joining the ranks as someone with Alzheimer's.

And:

Day 2 of the 5 day poetry challenge ...

Never Regret

So where to from here, Lord?
Didn't expect to get this far.
So right there ...
I'm mighty grateful, Lord!

But seems to me that getting old,
Makes living more challenging.
And like an invisibility cloak,
I am no longer visibly bold.

To not be seen is like death itself.
There is a time for solitude,
But ... when you walk on by,
I'm like that picture ignored on the shelf.

There was a time I WAS seen.
And I ran from the attention,
Because I was sought by evil,
And I blamed it all on being seen.

Sometimes I even hid,
Behind couches and self made walls.
Or I'd run only to have me find me,
And a world judging all I did.

Now I'm old and gray in the mirror,
But when I look away I remember,
That skinny girl with long blonde hair,
Who often perceived like a seer.

Now I have too many regrets,
And a life filling with mixed memories.
As I venture through this last life season,
Help me Lord find life I never want to regret.

Sandra K. harrison
03-28-15

I was nominated on Facebook by Paige Namuth for a 5 day poetry challenge. Not sure of the rules or if there are any. Here is what I have done so far:

Day 1 of the five day poetry challenge I was nominated for by Paige Namuth.

Made it home.
Home is our Sandhill retreat,
And the rose made the journey, too.

Unpacked memories,
Opened up all the windows,
And a cooling breeze filled this country home.

There was the rose.
Soon it's beauty will be in full wilt,
And will remind me she is gone to a New Home.

Nothing lasts forever.
Not the rose nor the breeze,
And the journey is both fun and sad.

Dance through the fun times of life,
Sing through the sad times of death,
And be the rose until the moment is gone.

Forever can be a memory,
That one can unpack for reflection,
And know also that a dried rose will remember.

My Heart Still Aches

Posted to my Facebook Timeline today:


Like · Comment · Share

• Nicole Church, Paige Namuth, Jennifer Lene Van Vleet and 2 others like this.
• 

  Monica Snider Gonzalez Rest In Peace Mark

  1 hr · Unlike · 1
• 

  Roxie StepinMaebe McBroom Rest in peace Mark, what a blessing your last time together was

  1 hr · Unlike · 1
• 

  Roseanna Torres Prayers of comfort for you.

  1 hr · Unlike · 1
• 

  Sandy Harrison Mark died in 2008. Gosh doesn't seem like 7 years has gone by already. Thinking of loved ones that have left seems to have a timeless effect, don't ya think?

P

Today is the death anniversary of my brother Mark Walker. He died of an abdominal aneursym at the NP Flying J Truckstop, in North Platte, NE, where he and brother Carl had stopped for a meal while on their way back from attending the funeral of our cousin, Cindy, only the day before in our home town of Ogallala, NE. My heart still aches but I also marvel at the timing. Mark had been on the transplant list for a liver and so we weren't surprised when he left us before his name came up but we were surprised it was an aneursym that claimed him. We were all reeling from the sudden loss of our cousin but her death blessed me with precious time with my brothers Mark & Carl. The morning of Mark's death, he and I and Carl sat on the front porch of my home and talked about years of memories. Mark made some amends that morning to Carl & I and spoke of the amends he knew he still needed to make to others but didn't want to make wounds bigger. The sun was shining that beautiful morning and we siblings were healing right there in its light. When the boys headed home, we were all crying and hugging and so glad that we had that amends & memory time. We had NO CLUE that after the boys stopped and visited Aunt Grace & Uncle Al, that Mark would be leaving us during that stop to eat his favorite meal, chicken fried steak & eggs. A meal that he was restricted from. He was not suppose to eat protein because of his liver disease and he had a lot of protein that weekend. I smile when I think of his rebellion on his diet ... and how it wasn't the reason for his leaving ... I smile because that was Mark; a rebel soul that was tamed over the years by the consequences of choices that he paid a high price for, who tried to make the changes needed but often fell short of the goal. Something I still identify with. Well, brother Mark, I am comforted that God seen your suffering and knew you had paid the price long enough and gave you rest from your pain. But my heart still aches.

This last picture was taken in October 2007. Our youngest brother Donny, came from AZ and Carl, Mark, and Sue came from Lincoln so we could all meet with Dr Colglazier at the Grant, NE hospital to have a family conference regarding Mom. That conference was the most stressful experience ever and not because we were discussing Mom's health and future care but because we were all tramatized by the inappropriate, unprofessional display of abusive anger from a doctor! Carl, Mark and I were familiar with such rage but shocked that what was perpetrated on us as lil tikes was now being slammed at us as worried adult family members. But that is a memory I'm not wanting to reflect on in this posting. I just wanted to post a picture of all of us together just months before Mark died. Mark's wife, Sue Walker is taking this picture. 

So I went to my picture files from that weekend and pulled up one from when we were working on Mom's home during that same time. I will never forget the support of family during a difficult time that Mom was going through. Again, we had no clue we'd be back together the following year in May for ...

Love and Peace Dear Brother Mark