Journal Entries
Beautiful words on Grief
Posted Jun 9, 2018
It's been ages since I made a journal entry but I just found this again and want to save it. I didn't write it - I don't know who did. Maybe it will help others - it has helped me
"I wish I could say you get used to people dying. I never did. I don’t want to. It tears a hole through me whenever somebody I love dies, no matter the circumstances. But I don’t want it to “not matter”. I don’t want it to be something that just passes. My scars are a testament to the love and the relationship that I had for and with that person. And if the scar is deep, so was the love. So be it. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are a testament that I can love deeply and live deeply and be cut, or even gouged, and that I can heal and continue to live and continue to love. And the scar tissue is stronger than the original flesh ever was. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are only ugly to people who can’t see.
As for grief, you’ll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you’re drowning, with wreckage all around you. Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence of the ship that was, and is no more. And all you can do is float. You find some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while. Maybe it’s some physical thing. Maybe it’s a happy memory or a photograph. Maybe it’s a person who is also floating. For a while, all you can do is float. Stay alive.
In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don’t even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you’ll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out. But in between, you can breathe, you can function. You never know what’s going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything…and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves, there is life.
Somewhere down the line, and it’s different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see them coming. An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas, or landing at O’Hare. You can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you’ll come out.
Take it from an old guy. The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don’t really want them to. But you learn that you’ll survive them. And other waves will come. And you’ll survive them too. If you’re lucky, you’ll have lots of scars from lots of loves. And lots of shipwrecks.”
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Latest reply: Jun 9, 2018
28/04/15 - My Beautiful Mum
Posted Apr 28, 2015
Last Friday (24/05/2015) my wonderful Mum passed away and left an enormous hole in my life. I was with her as I had been everyday and she was surrounded by love. She is at peace.
I can't write more now - maybe later - I would just like to leave the following in tribute.
A remarkable woman,
A wonderful, devoted mother, grandmother great-grandmother, mother-in-law, and aunt
A loyal and trusted friend
“Nana” and adopted “Mum” to many,
she made friends her family and family her friends.
Much loved she will be sorely missed
In the hearts of those who loved her, she will always be there.
Rest In Peace
Death leaves a heartache no-one can heal; love leaves a memory no one can steal. - Irish Tombstone
I hope to return to hootoo when I am able.
for all
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Latest reply: Apr 28, 2015
Merry Christmas from Feisor
Posted Dec 24, 2010
24 December 2010
Some of you may have noticed that I haven't been around much lately - if you have, I am honoured that you noticed 
But I couldn't let go completely and had to pop in to wish all my hootoo friends the compliments of the season, and to explain my absence.
On the 18th October my Mum had a stroke - a major one, but luckily she was still able to walk and talk and, while it's been a long way back, I am overjoyed to announce that she will be home on the 7th January.
For the past 4 weeks Mum has been in the most incredible rehab facility (it's really like a private hotel for seniors) and they are coordinating lots of government support. I must say that for all my grouching about governments of all persuasions in this case I am amazed and grateful for the programmes that are in place and am telling anyone who will listen what a positive thing our federal government has done (for a change)
I will be back - though I am not sure when. The backlog is scary 
but I can't stay away.
A special thank you to the ACEs for "holding my part of the fort" and a special for the wonderful lil who was there when I needed her - this place would not be the same without her.
Merry Christmas to all - I hope that 2011 will be better for us all.
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Latest reply: Dec 24, 2010
That time again already? Yikes!!
Posted Dec 24, 2009
In keeping with past years I am again posting this bit of Christmas doggerel to share with my hootoo friends
Yes - once again I could be giving humbug lessons to The Grinch 
The compliments of the season to all of you - thank you for being there
Hooray! At last this year is done
But look out – here comes another one.
The year’s been hard for lots of us
So let’s relax and just not fuss
Take it easy, take it slow,
Ignore the hype – go with the flow.
Yes! You’re right – I’ve had enough
Again, won’t do the Christmas stuff.
But there’s one thing that I will do
And that’s to send my love to you.
With good friends and family too
I know that we can make it through.
So let’s just smile. Be of good cheer
And hope for peace and joy next year.
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Latest reply: Dec 24, 2009
Lizard Birth - had to share
Posted Sep 18, 2009
Someone sent me this today ....
I am going to post it in the Tell A Joke thread but I love it so much that I had to post it to my journal too, so I can
a) share it with my friends and
b) find it quickly to re-read when I need a good laugh
Enjoy
If you have raised kids (or been one), and gone through the pet syndrome, including toilet flush burials for dead goldfish, this story will have you laughing out loud!
Overview: I had to take my son's lizard to the vet. Here's what happened:
Just after dinner one night, my son came up to tell me there was 'something wrong' with one of the two lizards he holds prisoner in his room. “He's just lying there looking sick” he told me. “I'm serious, Dad. Can you help?”
I put my best lizard-healer expression on my face and followed him into his bedroom. One of the little lizards was indeed lying on his back, looking stressed.
I immediately knew what to do.
”Honey” I called, “come look at the lizard!”
”Oh, my gosh!” my wife exclaimed. “She's having babies.”
“What?” my son demanded. “But their names are Bert and Ernie, Mom!”
I was equally outraged. “Hey, how can that be? I thought we said we didn't want them to reproduce,” I said accusingly to my wife.
“Well, what do you want me to do, post a sign in their cage?” she inquired (I think she actually said this sarcastically!)
”No, but you were supposed to get two boys!” I reminded her, (in my most loving, calm, sweet voice, while gritting my teeth).
”Yeah, Bert and Ernie!” my son agreed.
”Well, it's just a little hard to tell on some guys, you know,” she informed me. (Again with the sarcasm!)
By now the rest of the family had gathered to see what was going on. I shrugged, deciding to make the best of it. “Kids, this is going to be a wondrous experience” I announced. “We're about to witness the miracle of birth.”
”Oh, gross!” they shrieked
”Well, isn't THAT just great? What are we going to do with a litter of tiny little lizard babies?” my wife wanted to know.
We peered at the patient ... After much struggling, what looked like a tiny foot would appear briefly, vanishing a scant second later.
“We don't appear to be making much progress,” I noted.
”It's breech,” my wife whispered, horrified.
”Do something, Dad!’ my son urged.
”Okay, okay.”
Squeamishly, I reached in and grabbed the foot when it next appeared, giving it a gentle tug. It disappeared. I tried several more times with the same results.
”Should I call 911?” my eldest daughter wanted to know. “Maybe they could talk us through the trauma.” (You see a pattern here with the females in my house?)
“Let's get Ernie to the vet,” I said grimly.
We drove to the vet with my son holding the cage in his lap.
”Breathe, Ernie, breathe,” he urged.
”I don't think lizards do Lamaze,” his mother noted to him. (Women can be so cruel to their own young. I mean what she does to me is one thing, but this boy is of her womb, for goodness sake).
The vet took Ernie back to the examining room and peered at the little animal through a magnifying glass.
“What do you think, Doc, a C-section?” I suggested scientifically.
”Oh, very interesting,” he murmured. “Mr. And Mrs. Cameron, may I speak to you privately for a moment?”
I gulped, nodding for my son to step outside.
“Is Ernie going to be okay?” my wife asked.
“Oh, perfectly,” the vet assured us. “This lizard is not in labour. In fact, that isn't EVER going to happen. Ernie is a boy. You see, Ernie is a young male. And occasionally, as they come into maturity, like most male species, they um ...um, masturbate. Just the way he did, lying on his back.” He blushed, glancing at my wife.
We were silent, absorbing this.
”So, Ernie's just, just...excited,” my wife offered.
”Exactly,” the vet replied, relieved that we understood.
More silence. Then my vicious, cruel wife started to giggle, and giggle and then even laugh loudly.
”What's so funny?” I demanded, knowing, but not believing that the woman I married would commit the upcoming affront to my flawless manliness.
Tears were now running down her face. ”It's just that ...I'm picturing you pulling on its...its...teeny little... “
She gasped for more air to bellow in laughter once more.
“That's enough,” I warned. We thanked the vet and hurriedly bundled the lizard and our son back into the car. He was glad everything was going to be okay.
“I know Ernie's really thankful for what you did, Dad,” he told me.
“Oh, you have NO idea,” my wife agreed, collapsing with laughter.
Two lizards: $140.
One cage: $50.
Trip to the vet: $30.
Memory of your husband pulling on a lizard's winkie: Priceless!
Moral of the story: Pay attention in biology class. Lizards lay eggs.
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Latest reply: Sep 18, 2009
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