I have had two fairly close friends die in the last year.    Hard work for both of them.   Hard work for the survivors too.  

I'm going out this afternoon and will get  an image of spring - fresh - and post it here to help - What else can one do?

Best,  Jeff

So I didn't get an image of the first flower coming up in the spring sun - in fact it was still very cold inside the grist mill where my friend Rich - the Miller - was dressing a French quartz mill stone.   

I thought - what could be better than an image of Rich, a Viet Nam vet, whose head has indelible images in it, working to sharpen a one ton mill stone with a hammer that looks like it is out of a Flintstone cartoon! 

Life is vibrant partly because it wears out...like this grind stone...

You are a wonderful daughter.  My heart aches to see you and your family suffer.

* My blogs expressing my Freedom of Speech Rights, especially on matters of public concern, are my opinion and not the opinion of my friends, family or employer*

I cannot explain the true love I have always known from my dad....a blessing I knew as a young child...when I saw my fatherless friends go astray...

I cannot explain the brutal honesty I have forever treasured from having the father I have which has cultivated a rich sense of awareness that I treasure for myself and my children.

I cannot explain the priceless sacrifices of working for a paycheck over pushing a wheelchair and hovering over my father's body in a coma and fighting with doctors and medical professionals to find solutions and fix him without a paycheck!

I cannot explain the endearing love my children know to have a dedicated grandfather who puts them above himself to the end.

I cannot explain the value of a life that is rich in love, priceless moments, and challenged by the most straightforward communications imaginable.

I cannot explain many things that I treasure and see slipping away...but I do know and count my blessings that no matter the battle of life endured---we have united and persevered through it all...proudly and tenaciously.

I am a proud ignorant hillbilly and that's something I don't hesitate to amuse the world with.

Learning about the deviant world my daddy attempted to protect me from long ago has been so ugly. I guess I was lucky to enjoy some innocence along the way...

And now, all I want to do is celebrate his life while he's still here...he's my hero in so many ways and it's like a knife cutting through me a thousand ways to hold his hand through this phase of his life... but I am lucky to have the opportunity and to know what I know....

It's others I feel sorry for in this world....Those who love him and cannot bring themselves to surpass their emotions to make time for him while he's still alive.... They are the ones who need to figure it out NOW---not later. I have tried a thousand ways to provide everyone with the awareness of the status of things and the countless times he's come to their neck of the woods when they could have, should've, or would've visited...but---well, they all have a list of excuses...

Ultimately...the most hurtful thing to me is the calamity day ahead when they attempt to face me with their guilty feelings...I will not hesitate to lay into them at that point. For now, it's up to them all...family; friends, and so on...the opportunity is hitting them all in the face...and they are so full of crap!

Okay...So, when I say we're having a party or a get together because dad's coming up...then make time...the end! LOL....He's an amazing person and I'll forever know how very blessed I've been to have him in my world! For those who didn't...that's their loss!

Always Appreciative,
"ANGELnWard14"

all I can say is call me and cry and scream and let it all out. I don't mind listening, someone facing something very similar says talking helps.

It is tough losing a parent, my mother died of colon cancer when I was 20, lasted only three of the six months they gave her.

I hated the fact that until they finally operated, opened her up and closed her back up again, they didn't know what was wrong. So she had felt guilty for being a bother. Blood in the stool should have been a big clue. Although I don't think they had colonoscopies then.

And the doctors didn't have the guts to tell her. Told my dad to tell her whenever she was stronger.

She wasn't able to write much, dad couldn't take it when she tried to tell him her wishes, told her to write it down, not knowing she didn't really have the strength. But she did write "Don told me today. I think I already knew."

She used the time and strength she had left to search her (pristine) soul, gave some family pieces she felt she shouldn't have had to family members she thought deserved them more.

She told me that as a young woman she had been in a car wreck (broke her back, she wouldn't wear a brace and so had a permanently bowed back) and she had indeed seen her life pass before her eyes. That she hadn't been afraid then and so wasn't afraid now. She only worried about dad and asked me to look after him.

I still tear up when I think about her.

When I found out she was dying, I thought that at least I wouldn't have anything to regret because I had never talked back to my mother disrespectfully as many of my friends did. But I was so wrong, afterwards I thought I should have come home from college to visit more often, should have whatever. 

You should not have anything to regret. You have put your own life pretty much on hold to fight for your father. Hard, but the right thing to do, you have always had your head screwed on straight and your priorities right. Few would/could even if they should.

Another friend, going through the same thing, also with practically zero help and little money, asked her sister-in-law, what if she wasn't there to fight for her husband. Well, the sister-in-law didn't even hestitate, immediately said, well, she'd have to put the man in a nursing home if that were the case.

My mother died around Easter time, and I still hate the smell of lilies, so many of them were at the funeral home. Palm Sunday and Easter Vigil are my favorite services. I so much more identify with Christ crucified than the risen Christ triumphant. I sit in the back because I get tears in my eyes during the Palm Sunday service.

If you don't remember my Magic Jack number, email me for it. Best time to call is 7-10 pm EST. I am two hours behind, sometimes go to bed at 8 pm, sometimes up until 4 am.

Love you all much,

Sunday, I bought a PD in passing for a later read...never even read the front page, just bagged and ran in a haste...By late evening as I sat in the ER for other events waiting and waiting....I opened the PD up to find the front page article on PTSD.............

http://www.cleveland.com/metro/index.ssf/2013/03/families_share_the_pain...

Wow....I already got a lifetime of this subject matter...a child of a Vietnam Veteran.... All I can say is that our Nation as a whole fails repetitively to address the bottom line to reduce this disturbing reality........ They fail to reduce dogged corruption in the civilian side of life....

These vets come home from a war environment where they were trained to have each other's back far beyond family and friends---far beyond brothers & sisters---they were taught to fight for something far greater than themselves---for the world at large....only to come home to realize what a corrupt fricken society put them through. That's mind boggling.

The truth is inexperienced civilians don't get it. I even joined the military for 9 years to get a grasp on why my own dad thought the way he did...It all makes sense in retrospect....the fraternal feelings associated with being in the military are almost incomprehensible to normal society. Your family and friends see the military as a "death sentence" (go off to war and die.) Once you come home--it's like you are a ghost-and they cannot get it the way you want. It's frustrating because they remain in the cloud of civilian culture spoiled by all the realities of living under the cloak of the freedoms you fought to defend---sometime which they take for such granted that you want to clock them....and the story goes....get politically correct and drive on...yaddy ya....another blog; another day.

The bonds created by PTSD and War are far greater than any that you can imagine...treat your veteran with respect and dignity; don't spit on him people.

OMG...gotta go....vet centers are a great resource for the families....use them families and vets. Work it out...don't give up....You endure and learn---you choose to stay or leave---you fight or flee...get selfish or not...

I stayed and cared and chose to sacrifice it all for my dad- the rest of the selfish world lived dog and pony superficial lives that missed RAW emotions...that's cool.... That's their loss. My dad is an amazing person underneath the PTSD....just so fricken sad that his world was tarnished by the PTSD that derailed all that brilliance. Prayerfully society will self adjust to really receive veterans respectfully again. Our warriors are worthy of much greater love than are those civilians who rub elbows in their backroom deals.

Blessings.....

Always Appreciative,
"ANGELnWard14"