kisses & compliments

how you might know you are desparate…

when its bordering on two whole weeks since you have heard a sweetgirl’s voice. when you are slowly coming out of the dark pit you were in a week ago. when you are so mentally and emotionally exhausted from the psych clinicals in general and the nursing school bullshit inflicted upon you at the last minute in specific. when you fall asleep around 1am curled up with her shirt and a stuffed animal she gave you from her childhood…and she calls at 2am.

you talk for 45 minutes, soaking in the sound of her voice and especially her laughter, letting it seep into your heart and soul, and you feel it healing all those tired and broken places… you tell her about the end of clinicals and the final to come on monday while you listen to her gather the dogs and then change into pj’s for bed. ok. you cant hear her changing clothes, but you know the nighttime routine well enough to know what she is doing. and you try really hard not to let your mind drift too much about the state between day clothes and pj’s… (but your mind gets stuck there, anyway)

you nearly die when you hear her get into bed, and that sigh of finally being able to stretch out comes out of her mouth. *dying silently, biting lip, and wishing for the ability to crawl thru your phone* you talk for a few more minutes until she is yawning, and then you wait for her to tell you its time to go to bed… and you listen. for the way her voice changes and softens as she says “goodnight sweetie” and then a final whispery “bye”

you wait again, and she hangs up the phone…and you realize you havent ever hung up the phone on her…

and after you lay the phone back down on the table beside you…you bury your head into her shirt and cry for how much more you miss her after having her near again…

honestly. all of the above is not the desparation…

desparation would be ~ going and waking your mom up and crying to her, telling her how much you miss the the sweetest girl in the world.

which is precisely what i did at 3am this morning.

(i’ll add the momma’s reaction/reply later - now i am late for work!!! dammit.)

time really changes things.

the night before mother’s day 1999, i did one of the most monumental things a person can do: i came out to my mom. i can still remember that night…

1997 ~ The Internet was a saving grace for me ~ where i could talk anonymously with like-minded women going thru the same things. it was a lifeline, when my RL situations would not have afforded me the ability to seek out support in the community. i was living at home with my mom, who was accustomed to knowing where i was going and who i was hanging out with. and i was petrified i would meet someone she knew at some GLBT coming out group, and someone would slip and say something to her by accident. so i spent two years finally coming to terms with myself, and tentatively coming out to distant friends, and then closer friends… i was finally at the place where it was time to tell the mama.

*scary*

a week or so before the coming out (which was not planned to coincide with the day i was supposed to be extra-nice to my mom, i swear!!!) i went downtown with a friend to the GLBT center, where she bought me the coolest rainbow rug, and where i bought a postcard with a quote by amelia earhart that struck me somewhere deep in my soul and i could not let it go. to this day, it leads my heart in so many choices i make.

“courage is the price life exacts for granting peace”

and so often in the weeks since i purchased the postcard, i took it out and looked at it, and read it, and i knew the time was coming closer and closer To Tell My Mom. i dont quite know how to explain what its like to have something that feels so huge to tell someone. years prior, there was a time when i swore i would NEVER tell her. after the summer of 1997, when i met my first group of Internets and made some great online friendships, i was finally going to meet one of the chicks for lunch. this was in january 2008. honestly, it was fine and safer than safe. i happened to show my mom a picture of said lunch friend, on a page with lots of others who i had chatted with for months… there were a few *couple* photos. and as soon as i opened the page and pointed out my friend, i thought “ohshit” and instantly, i started pointing to a couple who werent a couple, but were both married to men with kids and stuff. and then the dreaded question: “is ___ gay?” with such disgust and disapproval.

*gulp*

yes.

(that silence? thats the dead air space from my mom, that accompanied the look of the grandest disappointment, like i stabbed her in the heart)

“she is my friend”

i will spare you the detailed version, but interspersed with my helpless quiet statements of “but she is my friend…” my mom went on for what seemed an hour, about Why Gay People Are The Way They Are and then we went directly from that lecture into She Is Going To Seduce You. it is one of the most exquisitely painful times in my life… my heart hurt so much, it was aching and numb at the same time. i felt like i wanted to vomit and wished she would just yell louder and be angry and stop with the disgust, or just go away.

mercifully, this was a sunday. and she had to go to church. i ran upstairs and called my friend and said “i cannot come to see you…” she flipped, as she heard the story (minus the She Will Seduce You* part) and so my friend tells me she wants to email my mom, talk to her on the phone, and is right so, VERY defensive. and this is where i stammer… “uhh. ____. you cant. it will make things worse. i am not out to her yet…” and friend replies: “ohhh.” i ended up still going, and no. she did NOT seduce me. dammit. but we had an amazing time, and she has been a wonderful friend…

but from that day on, i swore i would never tell my mother. she broke my heart that day. and i didnt think that would ever heal, to be honest. i could not get the look in my mom’s eyes or the tone in her voice out of my head and heart.

and yet somehow…a little over a year later, i was frequently contemplating telling her. i wrote a poem in the fall of 1997, thinking about finally finding the girl i would spend my life with. and how i would not choose between my family/friends and the love of my life. there would be no contest. (i will share the poem later…)

i spent a lot of time in my room those days, listening to mel.issa eth.eridge and wearing this little chain with rainbow rings on them under my sweats. it was so important to me, to feel connected, even tho i was in such darkness in my own home closet. that rainbow rug, stayed in the bottom of my dresser drawer, wrapped in plastic for a long time. it was a really really sad time, in a lot of ways.

and so it happened… i had bought a book for my mom, about having a kid come out to you, and i decided i would show her the poem. i couldnt just SAY “mom, i am a lesbian and i want to be with girls and not boys” ~ so i had my little plan, and didnt know when the hell i was going to do it.

that saturday night, my mom had laid down for a nap and ended up staying in bed. i was in my room around 9-ish and writing poems or something, and i pulled that postcard out one more time. and this time, i reached for the poem, and it was like someone was behind me, holding me by the shoulders and pushing me forward down the hall. my stomach was in my throat and i think my heart was somewhere in my big toe. well. when they werent trading places.

i went into her room, and woke her up. (nice, eh?) and i dont recall being too eloquent in my telling her i wanted to talk to her. my voice always betrays me, and in this instance…i was grateful. i told her i wanted to show her something i had written. (i am sure she was thinking: WTF? can it not wait until my waking hours?) and so she leaned over and turned on the bedside light and i shakily handed her the paper.

she read. i tried to remember to keep breathing. i also tried to convince my heart and stomach to pick ONE place and stay put. it didnt work.

and then she was done reading. and the look from january 2008 was on her face again. not being so eloquent herself, she asked “does this mean what i think it means?”

*gulp*
it does.

and then the real disappointment and ick-face settles in. so much disapproval and confusion and questions, i guess. and then The Question I Dreaded For Forever…

“who is it?”

i told her it didnt matter. that i had been struggling with this for years, nearly 7 at that point, and that finally a few years before, just got tired of fighting it, and tried to see how accepting myself worked.

“but…who?”

i didnt have a gf at the time, and that was one of the reasons i chose to tell her when i did. i did not want it to be about sex and who was fucking (read: corrupting) me. i didnt want to put a gf in that situation, either…all that resentment and anger/upsetness. and so i told my mom it didnt matter WHO, and that even if i never had another gf, i would still be attracted to women, blah x 3.

i honestly cant recall how we ended things, or how i got the hell out of there. i think she told me she didnt understand it (meaning the sex - as that seems to be where all the parents go first) and she asked me to be patient with her, since it took me awhile to be OK with things myself. i think she told me she loved me. i didnt feel she really meant it unconditionally (this is a whole other blog) and i think she figured she should say it.

she did not talk about it with me, ever again really. a few weeks later, i had gone to a Em See See church service and when i returned she asked if i went to mass. i told her where i was, and that it was gay-friendly and she haughtily asked me the next day: “so does this mean you are giving up your religion?” i had some divine inspiration and countered with “no. but giving that it is the Cath*lic Ch*rch, they seem to want to give ME up…” ~ she had no reply. that following spring, i took a class in Lesbian Culture and when she asked the name of the class, and i said it, she visibly CRINGED. more broken pieces of my heart. these things killed me on a regular basis…and made me question my choice to tell her.

two years later, we had never discussed a thing. and i had no idea if she told her sisters or anything. it felt so insanely shame-filled, it almost felt better not being out to her. and then i met my gf. (oh jesus. this is getting long. and this is another story entirely…i had KNOWN the woman who would become my first real gf for 5yrs because *ahem* my mom worked for her *hahahahaha* and actually my MOM is who told me to invite her to a concert…)

so i started spending time with the gf who i had had a crush on all those years… and i honestly wanted to spend my life with her. in typical 2nd-date u-haul fashion, we began dating in the end of october and i was living in her house by early december. we were slow, i know.

so one night…i talk to mom, early on in the dating, and tell her that i really really like this woman, and i want someone to spend my life with… and i ask if she has told her sisters. (yes. almost immediately after i came out to her) and she asks if my friends know. (uh. yes. for years) and i told her that i couldnt handle the Not Ever Talking About IT. that is made me feel she was ashamed and i could not have that… and i reminded her of the poem and that i would choose my partner if it came down to it. and i also told her the biggest fears in coming out ~ which was one uber-religious friend who i feared her hubby would keep me from their daughters. i told mom that THAT is the only thing that would truly kill me ~ that i was strong enough to walk away from friends who dont support me, but those girls who are like nieces to me, if someone felt i was a threat to them, because of the adult i want to sleep with.

the look on my mom’s face was stunning. she had NEVER thought of anything like that. and that really is the last time there was ever direct talk of it…although there have been several moments of light peeking thru in her words and actions…

~ first christmas with my then-gf: mom gave us matching pj’s.

~ when things were really really over with then-gf, and i confided in mom that i missed her and was so sad, she said: “i really hope you meet a nice girl to love and to spend your life with…” (this was said prior to her second knee replacement, and she may have had a push of the pain-pump. but i like to think it wasnt the drugs but just a mom wanting her sad kid to be happy)

~ in a conversation with her god-daughter, my cousin: mom was talking about retiring but having to wait until Medicare kicked in (several years away at the time) and my cousin volunteered that its a shame i couldnt put mom on MY insurance, like you can a college kid on a parents. and my mom (MY MOM!!!) said to her: “i could say i am her live-in girlfriend. we DO have the same last name!!!” (CUTE, eh?)

when mother’s day comes around, i always feel like i want and need to tell my mom how proud i am of how far she has come… but i also know sometimes it is uncomfortable for her to talk about. next year tho, baby. it’ll be 10 years and i shall have to do something special!

* my FAV internal reply to this when my mom was lecturing me that day was “only in my BEST dreams” as i had the maddest never-going-anywhere crush on this girl.

** on the first time i went out with then-gf, we were headed to the concert and she was telling me that mom talked to her about my coming out, and she assured mom it wasnt a PHASE and then, i got fussed at for coming out to my mom on the night before mother’s day!!! (seriously, it was so devastating to her, NO DAY would have been good. and ANY DAY i chose would be forever tainted) but it was a funny pre-date conversation…

i make no claims to be superior to anyone ~ as i know i have a lovely collection of my very own OCD rituals and compulsions for doing them.

but sometimes, sometimes. persistence is downright annoying.

this morning, i slept in a bit, and because i woke before the alarm, which is also my cell phone, i turned the volume to silent. and then promptly forgot about it. a few minutes ago, i went to see if a classmate had called, and saw i had the following:

3 missed calls (same person) @ 1154, 1201, and 1210
2 voicemails (from same person) one marked *urgent*

i listen to the voicemails. the first one, from the second call, only says, “you will not believe what i am looking at right. this. second. call me back!!!” (ok, i admit i have made these calls before) but to then call again (9 minutes later) with essentially the same message above, and mark it *urgent* (i am thinking accident involving my godchild and gushing blood or something life-threateningly urgent)

so i finish what i was doing. and before i can even think about calling back ~ i get a picture-text (same person). the face is familiar but i cant place it. and before i can text back - to ask - or call back, another text comes thru asking: “do you know who this is???”

dear lord in heaven.

so i send a snarky text back asking “OCD, much? 3 calls, 2 messages (1 marked uurgent) and 2 texts in 30 mins - WOW”

i know. i am a bitch. what i really wanted to send back was: I DONT CARE WHO THIS IS. i dont know that my alternative snarky reply was any better.

FYI ~ i have yet to blog about it, but i am in a pretty severe pit of something. i hesitate to call it depression, but i expect some of it is. i spent the last two days at home alternating between tearfulness and sleeping the days away. it took me until 4pm yesterday, to get myself into the shower. i am also pms-ing and i know whatever of this funk is attributed to depression, it is being exacerbated by the pre-bleeding week. its beyond my expected “a little more prone to tears” mental state.

period is due any day, and i am expecting it will start right in the middle of my medication quiz on monday. this is becoming a pattern. and i am not impressed.

…now that a few days have passed, that is.

i have never claimed to be anything near graceful, but generally my motor coordination has served me well enough. i honestly dont know what the hell happened…

saturday night, i parked the car and walked several paces on the sidewalk until i reached the series of stairs up to the apartment lobby. i was wearing my crocs. (this has never been an issue before) and about the 3rd step up, the toe of one of my feet, i cant even recall which one, clipped the step it should have cleared. and a-flying i went.

picture this ~ chronically-imbalanced-center-of-gravity fatgirl, loaded up like a pack mule with a tote bag on my right shoulder, a small (light) tote bag with embroidery supplies hanging on my left forearm, a clipboard that holds papers inside (Very Cool Invention) held in the crook of my left arm. there was also a coke bottle in my right hand, along with keys perched in between my teeth.

so where were we…? oh yes. the flying gypsy.

i truly believe in guardian angels, and i think MINE gave me a good solid shove to the right, because i was on the right-most side of the steps, and this made me land in the grassy hill next to the steps. i landed with a thud, and once the breath that was knocked out of me returned, i laid there panting and cursing and wishing i could cry. everything hurt so badly, there were no tears. and seeing as it was midnight, there was no one around to help. which meant i had to not only heft my achey self back up, i had to re-load the pack mule crap.

i carried everything up but the soda bottle.

i got inside and whimpered and moaned and was sure my right thumb was broken (i am still not convinced it is not hairline fractured and will get that checked out tonight at work) and i got out an ice pack and then looked down and grimaced at the grassy streaks on my only pair of white scrub pants. nice. so i put on my pajamas.

lemme tell you. i dont know that i have ever appreciated my thumbs before. but trying to pull pants off and back on and undo things, seriously. thumbs are taken for granted in a big way.

i was so distraught, i even woke my mom up. which was hilarious in itself… as i could not turn the handle of her bedroom door with my right hand, and i was rattling the door like some psycho-killer trying to get in. i finally (and tearuflly) gave up and called into her and she came out and helped with the ice and the sympathy-giving. she even offered to drive me back to the hospital to get xray’s that night. but i declined… i could not bear the thought of trying to put my bra back ON just for that.

i took 800mg ibu.profen and settled in with my ice pack to try and rest. the only good thing was, about an hour and a half after i fell asleep, i was awaked by a sweetgirl call. and her voice and laughter can heal anything.

in the past few days, the pain has receded a little but its still a little too achey for my taste (hence the check-up tonight at work) and over the days i’ve had the wonderful post-fall muscle aches from where i caught myself.

the good news ~ the scrub pants came out CLEAN!!! yay for sho.ut it out gel!!!

so its 2308, and i shoulda been asleep an hour ago. seeing as i have to get my ass out of bed at 0500 ~ and no later than 0530, if i skip the shower. which i can do…as i didnt do a damn thing but come home and crash after clinicals today.

hmmm. i wonder if napping much of the afternoon and evening away has any correlation with the fact that i cant get to sleep right now? i am a mistress of the obvious, nothing gets my me. dont be jealous of my mad skillz.

so i am sitting here, drinking a small glass of wine and listening to that Le.ona Le.wis song “bleeding love” for about the millionth time. i cant confirm it, but there are rumors that by the end of the glass of wine, i will be singing along, thinking i can do harmony.

this is going to be an even more-than-usual disjointed post. bonus points for following along and keeping up! and in an attempt to get to bed *soon* i am going to do a bullet-post.

except…i cannot find the toolbar. damn wordpress.

fine then.
a couple of lists…

Things That Suck

1. my oregon sister has been in my state since april 24th. she is leaving on sunday afternoon. i have not seen her at all. we have talked on the phone exactly once, about 2 weeks ago. today, she sent me an email and i read it and replied. i was crashing from exhaustion, so i logged off and laid down. i logged on around 10pm, to an email timed at 2:30pm from sister: “where are you? i am starving, want to go out?” *mad cursing* i could have met her and gotten in a nice visit. as it is, we may have to resort to het bringing me lunch on saturday because i have to work all motherfuckingday in the lab.

2. presented a group project in clinical today. we did a good job. teacher’s opinion: not so much. she picked it apart. from top to bottom. very little positive encouragement. all critical.

3. bonus clinical interaction today: playing cards with a convicted and registered sex offender who repulsed me to the end of the earth and back. he was admitted several times in the last month for attempted suicides. i say: why did we rescue him? honestly…arent we ALL better off if he is not of this world any longer? (i know. not for me to decide. but i am human and believe they canNOT be rehabilitated. ever.)

4. itchy elbows. its eczema or psoriasis. but it drives me to madness. some things help some of the time. most things dont help much of the time. oh. and of course ~ its aggrivated by stress. so maybe in a year and a few months it will settle down. lord knows nursing school couldnt be the cause of ANY stress in my life.

5. talking to the sweetgirl for an hour tonight, and missing her so badly during the call that i dissolved into tears as soon as we hung up. wondering why i believe so deeply that her heart and mine are going to end up together in this lifetime. i am avoiding sleep, because when i turn out the lights and crawl into bed, the missing her lays beside me and pulls my insides out and i just dont want to cry myself to sleep tonight.

and now…(for your patience in my whinging)

Things That Rock My Socks…

1. a kick-ass study group i attended on tuesday. honestly, they were so freaking fabulous and i felt like i really fit in, and was welcome and everything opposite of the normal bullshit inferiority i usually carry with me. i may blog more about the study game we played. good lord.

2. getting an 82 on exam #2 ~ and the split second i started to get upset that i didnt do better (i had felt like i was in the high-80s) and how my mind and spirit is soooo over psych nursing, i immediately changed into a mindset of “I PASSED AND WONT HAVE TO TAKE THIS AGAIN, EVER” and then was really diggin’ that 82. (for the record, i now only need a 57 on the final to pass)

3. doing a random search for people from my high school graduating class and finding The Girl Who Is Responsible For My Rockin’ 80s Senior Portrait. see post about getting a scanner for visual proof. (sorry. too lazy to link it right now)

ok. i think this is the end of this post. i am tired and think i can manage to get into bed and be asleep before the missing-my-sweetgirl tears start. this is a very good thing.

or…in other words: WTF?

how on earth did a solid week pass from the monday-mermaid musings without more from me? good lord. i hate when a week becomes a casualty of nursing school.

let’s see… i joined a study group with two friends who sadly didnt pass med-surg and who got a little freaked after not doing as well on exam #1 for psych as they had hoped. we meet every monday and wednesday from 0900-1100. this is a huge thing, for me to sacrifice sleep. but i have decided not only will it help me now, in my psych learning…it is also a storing-up of good karma for the remaining year of nursing school. so far, its a good group ~ another classmate saw us there last monday and joined us and i guess liked it so much, she showed again on wednesday!

oh. last wednesday. on campus at 0930 (i am perpetually late for study group things) and then class for 3 hours and THEN i joined the morning study girls and my birthday buddy (who shares the same b-day as me. including the year. cool, no?) for a state-funded tutoring session for an hour. i drove off campus around 1545. yes. that would make SIX HOURS on campus. i was so exhausted…

i managed to go swimming wednesday night and i tell you… it is the best sleeping medication. ever. i also came home that night, and took a hollywood shower and shaved my legs and lotioned up head-to-toes (ha. like there is anyone who was going to be appreciating such efforts!) and then sat on the patio and drank a glass on wine. it was heavenly and i think i must try and do this at least once a week. especially the wine.

clinicals were far from boring, and i must share the sexually inappropriate conversations in a post all to themselves. sometimes (most times) it is hard to keep a straight face and not fall apart into laughter in response to some of this stuff.

i got the invitation for my cajun brother’s wedding, which will be in less than two months and i am sooooo looking forward to that.

i spent saturday at work, the requisite 12-hr shift that gets more and more tiring as i go along… but i had a day of relaxation and did embroidery all damned day. not one book was touched. also, heavenly. reminder to self: address inapproproateness of volunteer who has a crush on me.

sunday, i spent about 4 hours at a clinical-mates house, touching up our group presentation project and also helping them with the second clinical paper. the teacher really ripped on the one girl’s paper and i did well on mine, so i did some coaching and editing. it was good - but i am really not used to being the girl who excells at things well enough that others seek her out for help. it is a wildly uncomfortable place for me in which to exist. especially after these two girls tell me they think the clinical instructor shows favoritism, and that she likes me and therefore shows preference in grading. nice, eh? i told my mom and she said “its ok…my cake will get you forgiven for anything!” (mom is making a jewish apple cake for our clinical study group on tuesday) unfortunately, i think the girls are right about the teacher and me. fortunately, my mom is right about the powers held in her cake!.

and the best part of last week: BOTH my cajun brothers are now stateside and HOME from iraq. i think i am breathing again…

*sorry for the choppy and random ramblings.

the stress of the nursing program and other assorted life issues going on these days (missing the sweetgirl, hating living at home, missing my dad, facing my own psych issues) has motivated? convinced me to make another attempt at regular exercise. despite the little time i do have, i am going to try and make some time for this.

last night, i went back to my water aerobics. i forgot exactly how much being in the water is heaven for me. the second i got into the water up to my waist, ALL the pressure that is on my back ALL the time, vanished.

the workout was awesome, and i dont think i have slept so well in a really long time… i took an old friend with me, and she had such a blast she commented afterwards that she is going to try and be off work every monday from now on to do the water workout! the 10 minutes in the whirlpool after the hour-workout in the icing on the cake…

heaven.

we were starving, so we went to a diner and got something to eat and when i got home, the real icing on the cake ~ a completely unexpected phone call from the sweetest girl in the world ~ SO unexpected it startled me and left my heart pounding for minutes!!! we watched “headlines” and then talked for over an hour until we were both dozing off on the phone.

that is the real heaven.

and this morning, i am up finishing a paper and then going to work for my 4-hour shift tonight. hope ya’ll are having a good day.

actually, we got it a week or two ago ~ my aunt ended up with an extra one (long story) and it has been sitting on the dining room table until i could help mom set it up. helping means i am the one to crawl on the floor to disconnect and reconnect everything, seeing as its damn near impossible after a knee replacement.

so sunday afternoon, i stopped crying long enough pulled myself together and crawled under the computer desk and we got things set up.

and last night ~ i had me some fun!!! it is so insanely easy to scan photos, i am sure i will be posting a lot more as i come across them. it actually seems a bit easier than uploading them from my digital camera, and somehow, that doesnt seem right. but i’ll take it.

and now…without further adiue…

photographic evidence of me and my first nephew’s first meeting… he was 3 days old. i was due to be at the birth, and he decided to come while i was on vacation (11 days LATE) and after waking up long enough to squawk at me, he curled up on my chest and this photo was taken. and we were in love.

yeah. not much to say. this is an embarrassing (pre)teenaged photograph from a wedding. we were SO cool. i know you are all jealous of that courderoy skirt of mine, and especially the pink vest-contraption i am sporting.

and the crowing glory ~ class of 1989 senior portrait. have NO fear, my hair was not like that every day of school. i valued my sleep too much. but i had to represent the 80’s hair for the senior pictures that would be there for all posterity, right? i barely could get the bangs right, and 20 minutes prior to my sitting, i was in the bathroom with a friend and a bottle of aqua-net and a comb, hair being teased and scrunched into oblivion. and the necklace ~ borrowed last minute from my sister, as i forgot to wear one. i was so NOT a fashion plate. (see above wedding photo for reminder)

today marks 30 months since my dad died. i am hard-pressed some days to really comprehend how much time that really is. i cant believe that i am almost halfway thru nursing school, and i havent heard his voice on the phone even once. i still reach for my phone after every test, because i want to call and tell him how it was ~ about the hard questions, about the good ones, about the hallway analysis we all do for 20 minutes following each test. everytime we start a new course and i have new power-point note guides and a fresh textbook, i wish i could take it to show him.

and the sweetgirl? i think this makes me the saddest of all. they never got to meet. and i wish so much sometimes, especially when things have been hard for her and i in the last six months, that my dad was here for me to call and cry on the phone to. he was always so good at never making me feel foolish for needing to cry on the phone with him…

on thursday, i was at an eldery day care program as part of clinical, and one of my classmates and i helped run a music activity for the members. we had 100 lines to old songs, and we started the line and they had to complete it. they knew every. single. song. for many of them we would get them singing the answer to us ~ it was so much fun! there were a lot of memories rushing thru my head and heart. some from my time as an activity programmer for dementia patients and the songs i used to play for them…

but the main ones that really tore away at me are the ones my dad used to sing to me when i was very little. when we got to one of them, i told the group they had to sing it for me and why. we ALL sang it, even me, and i couldnt help think my dad would be so tickled that i wasnt afraid to sing in a group.

and then near the end…#95 to be exact…i almost lost it. i read ahead and saw the line and i think my heart stopped beated for a moment. i could almost hear my dad and see him and when i knew it was just a memory and i couldnt leave and call him and have him sing that song to me that night… there was a big ache in my chest.

below are the lyrics to one of the songs my dad often sang to me when he would tuck me into bed every night. i always got “daddy’s little girl” but some nights he would sing this, because he was missing his father (who died 2yrs before i was born) and it always made me cry, even as a small girl.

i wish i had a recording of him singing this. it was written in 1922, music by walter donaldson and lyrics by gus kahn. my dad told me it was written about a war buddy who was killed in action. i cant find much history… i just know it is a sweet song.