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Visiting Washington….where I grew up, raised a family, worked, loved, laughed and cried. It is the place where God stirred the ingredients for me as I became a person, lover, mom, wife, grandmother, sister and friend. I always said home is where the heart is and that is true to a point, but it is Washington that holds my roots. Home is where we hang our hat…..where we build our comfort. Right now my home is in Colorado, with my sweet husband Dan. But what define us can point to our roots in some ways. When it rains here, I don’t care if I get wet because I’ve been in rain most of my life. When the sun comes out, I relish in it because it so seldom happens in the greater Seattle area….now, how I will be with the snow in Colorado remains to be seen. Regardless of the weather, visiting my family in Washington was as refreshing as a spring shower and as warm as a summer sun.
Our flight was good and uneventful….thankfully. Before I knew it, Seattle came into view. The “Emerald City” did not disappoint me…..with the sun shining and the green trees and snow cap mountains….I again was in awe and realized how beautiful Seattle is to me…..now flying in as a visitor.
Picked up by my sister, Marianna, our visit started out on a welcoming note.  We had our “base camp” at Marianna and Rod’s….their hospitality overwhelming in comfort, we felt at home in their care. A visit and stay over at sister, Robi’s, house was fun, filled with laughter, sister time away, as well as enjoying David’s (brother-in-law) wonderful cooking.
Our main focus was the grandkids, Savy and Jo. My heart warms with the memories of those two little girls. Going to the house where I entered into ownership with Kristin and Brett was unchartered territory. I carried many emotions driving there….anxious, strange, happy, sad. But as we drove up the driveway what hit me was excitement as Savy and Jo greet us with those smiling faces.
I wanted to keep them in my arms forever, but life is different now and every minute has to be enjoyed and cherished for the flash of time that it truly is.
Whether I was watching Grandpa show the girls how to cast their fishing rods, listening to them sleep next to me in the tent or playing Yatzee….the power of love around us was inevitable. The love between grandchildren and grandparents runs as deep as any love can. Maybe more so with me because I helped raise those little girls, back and forth to daycare, normal family life and all the ingredients that go along with it, taking care of them along side my little girl, their mom. Three generations of our family working together to blend a life.
I enjoyed quiet little chats with Jo as we venture off by ourselves to the restroom at the campgrounds, or spent time in the water while Savy and Grandpa fished. She openly chats about her boyfriend, their love for each other and plans for a future. I am smiling inside as big as the Pacific Ocean coastline, but I keep a quiet persona so Jo would regard this as a grownup conversation with her Nana. Listening to Savy express her imagination in the evening hours around the campfire. The moments of sharing love and togetherness goes without explanation…they are such special children, each in their own way. At times we listening to them bicker at each other…because that is what siblings do. Other times, Savy was the big sister helping Jo with a decision on what dice to add for her turn on Yatzee. Watching life through them never ceases to amaze me.
Then the time came when we had to head back to Colorado. It’s always good to get home, sleep in your bed and curl up on your own couch to chat about the trip or the work week approaching. We build memories in life; some are more precious than others but memories just the same.
I was so blessed as a grandmother to have Savy and Jo living with me for the better part of their young lives, as mentioned in an earlier blog, moving wasn’t easy. Now we hold tight to those memories and build new ones as we made our way to see them for a visit. I imagine there will come a time when they will be too busy to spend time with us, much like my oldest granddaughter Lindsay is now….they build their own life and that becomes their world. That is God’s plan and we will just roll with it.  I am thankful to live in a time when computers can be our friends. Skype is a blessing for sure, it allows us to see the girls while we leisurely chat about what has gone on since our last video chat. It makes the distance not so evident, at least for that moment in time.   
What I will always hold closest in my heart was the warm and welcoming hug from my daughter Kristin, our hearts beating as one as I soak up the fragrance of her hair, receiving a gift created by her hands. The moment Jo starts to read me a story and she does that extra swallow, or the way Savy moves her position to extend the adult image in her conversation. Seeing my son-in-law, Brett, and realizing what a man he has become. They say no one has the same fingerprints; I say no one has the same memories. We each find the thread we feel means the most to us out of every memory. My sincere hope is that when I die, God allows me to make a book out of my memories, and time to read it everyday. 

Words….26 letters….
 
Words can be used for many things, they can be used to create a sentence, write a letter to a loved one or old friend. They are used to create great novels and beautiful sonnets. To keep notes during a business meeting or just to chitchat with a friend over coffee. They are used to tell someone how much you love them or to sooth a friend struggling through a broken heart.  They were put together to create the greatest book ever written…the bible. And the greatest three words “I love you”.
These wonderful words can be used to create beauty for all of us to read or hear, they can also be used for the other side of the spectrum. They can be used to say vengeful statements. They can be used to cycle through an argument over and over again….lots to say but nothing to gain. We have all been on both sides of the “word” at one time in our life I’m sure and the later is not very pleasant. We may very well have been the one dishing it out in a fit of anger.
Remember the old saying as a child we used to ward off bullies….it went like this: “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me”. I don’t know about you but I would rather have had the broken bone because a broken bone will heal….a name spoken in malice will scar forever. Words spoken can become the arrow of pain never meant to heal. Sure we may say “it’s okay, I understand the anger he/she is feeling” but the truth of the matter is the cut left by those words will always be slightly open for any grain of salt to pore in. We cannot seem to close it up. We can only pray to God to give us healing, and to help heal the person that threw the words at us, either face to face or through a written means of communication. All twenty-six letters of the alphabet have been used to create words to say good, bad or indifferent things to us. I visualize them floating around, and in our moods we just start pulling them out….sometimes the soft fluffy ones, other times the sharp edged ones that will take a finger off if you aren’t careful in your grabbing.  
So, what words have you used lately? With texting and emailing, those words can be misunderstood. Face to face, words can always be understood better, don’t you think? When you tell someone you love them face to face, it is your face that says it so much better than words. It’s expression that tells us so much. Is the person mad, sad or happy…..loving, kind or cruel. Will you remember the persons expression? Or will you remember what they said…..I’m still betting you remember what was said. It may have been easier to understand what they said face to face….but it’s the words that are remembered.  
When writing out an email, are you sure the recipient really knows what you are saying? Could it be taken as anger instead of a pointless joke? This world of ours has become so “written” instead of spoken, that sometimes I think we have forgotten the art of communication, the expression of communication. But again, does it matter if the words being used are what are remembered more than the expression…..to a point it matters because the words spoken are better understood, even if it hurts.
I hope that every time we speak, write a letter, send a text or send an email through cyberspace, we take the time to stop and think….think about how you might feel if you were the recipient of those words. You can’t take them back once they are said….you can apologize, but they are already out there. Read them again, think about the person getting them. Will you feel that way forever, maybe not but those words will be in that persons memory bank and heart forever…..is it worth it. If they are words of kindness and compassion, you and the recipient feel great. If they aren’t happy words, well we know you might feel powerful but the recipient feels less then happy.  To quote my Mother “if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all”.
We all want the words given to us to be ones of love, compassion, tolerance, understanding and forgiveness. Those are the words that help us, encourage us or just make us smile.
So when you read a book, send a letter or just talk to a friend….I hope you will look ,  hear, feel the words more clear. Utilize them carefully for what they are…an expression of what we feel or think at that precise moment.
Yes….26 letters and what they create….the possibilities are endless, use them wisely.

I have recently had a visit from two of my sisters. Two different times, each for a week. I was excited to have them come out and share my wonderful life with Dan, this beautiful sunshine and some of the sites with them. Having sisters is a blessing. You may not realize how much you missed someone until you see their face, standing there at the airport watching for your car to pull up and rescue them from their fears of where you might be in the crowd of cars. You greet each other with hugs, kisses and yes a few tears of joy.
I am a reflection of each of them. Parallel in our thoughts as our childhood lingers in our minds. We share moments in time that only we can understand, appreciate, cry over or laugh over. We went to the zoo, of course this means I got to go places twice so double bonus for me. We went to the Butterfly Pavillion….where I might add, I entered one of my pictures for a “Bugs in Your Backyard” photo contest. One sister was able to see our beautiful botanical gardens. With lightning shows produced and directed by Mother Nature, mornings on the patio with the birds of our neighborhood, walks to enjoy the beauty Colorado has to offer, I think they both had a great time.
But the point of this blog is to make something very clear…..if you have a sister you are blessed with a best friend. Whether that sister is from the same parents, a step-sister, half-sister or just someone you grew-up with that you consider a true sister……don’t take her for granted. My sisters, I’ve been blessed with a few more than most people, are all very individual ladies, thankfully we share a bond that can’t be broken. No matter what mistakes I have made, bluddering through life, they have never turned their back on me. They have never given up on me. They give advise….sometimes harshly, but always with the best intentions.
We have argued over the years, but it never mattered in the end because we would always call the next day or show up on the others doorstep to say we were sorry and give each other a sister hug.
My childhood was a reflection of a shattered glass….but no matter what I had my sisters. As years went on our lives intertwined as we traveled different paths, but we were never far from each other really because whoever holds a place in your heart, really isn’t far at all.
So I hope you will all take time to go out and share a cup of coffee with your sister if you can, call her on the phone if that is the only way you can share time…….but love her, appreciate her, consider her to be your best friend.
I have mine, I hope you have yours.

There are times I miss you so much I can’t breathe. Every breath takes an extra heart beat, every blink takes an extra breath. My mind swirls to understand how it all went wrong….how did we get to this, yet I know. Tears stain my pillow at night and my finger tips in the day. I do my best to push the lump in my throat away, but there are times I just succumb to the anguish in my heart, in a true desire to let the healing start.
Was our life together just a dream? I held you, loved you, nourished you with my love. Was what we had only in my thoughts and not yours? I wanted to be the one you came to for advice, sat and cried with, shared our dreams with…..hugged. Instead I was surprised one day to learned our life together had different prospectives….what I was to you compared to what I thought or wanted to be. Though it brought clarity to me, I believed unconditional love was forever, never suppose to be broken…..it is never suppose to fade through the tough times, sad times, or distance.
How long will this go on, when will the amount of time be enough time past. When will lives again be shared, enjoyed, smiled upon. Patience is all I can hang onto now. Understanding where you are but unable to unlock the door. What will happen over time, will you let me back in your heart or is it lost forever. If it is forever lost, then my interpretation of unconditional love has been a lie……there is no such thing.
 
God please heal my heart……

As a mother, you never expect to outlive your children. Unfortunately, that isn’t always the case. This entry is not a plea for sympathy, but a need to release what is weighing on me this day because of upcoming events.
Twenty-seven years ago, my son passed away in my arms, he was three weeks old. His name was Brook Joseph and was the spitting image of his sister Kristin. Brook never wore the little outfits given to him, was never wrapped in the blanket made for him. Brook never got to play with the stuffed animal his big brother Mike made for him as a school project. Brook never fell asleep in my arms on the couch after a midnight feeding. Brook’s future was taken from him.
Brook never left the hospital during those three weeks, but instead was given 24/7 care by NICU staff, with me by his side as much as possible. Brook underwent two surgeries, one to remove some of his small intestines and one to fix a murmur in his heart. Afterwards, he began his recover and was doing so well it was amazing, so they transferred him from University Hospital to Children’s Hospital. These two hospitals are associates so I felt confident he was in great hands.
The day before he died, he was rushed back into surgery for more intestinal issues…..there was nothing they could do to help him so they closed him back up. They told me the wait now would be a natural process for him to pass on, I would be allowed to hold him when the end was near. When the time came, they respectfully cleared the room and allowed me to rock him in a rocking chair. It was the first quiet moment I had ever had with Brook and I soaked up those moments in my heart forever. I lost part of me when he took his last breath.
The doctors used the word “expired” for his time of death….I was in shock and grief, I couldn’t even respond but that word pounds in my head to this day. Brook was a person, no a product.
I was told it was from an intestinal issue….and they were right. But not in the way it was revealed to me. There was an article in the paper about E-ferol, a vitamin for premature babies that had been linked to complications and even infant deaths. The hospital countered with facts of the infants that had died, stating they were unrelated. I tried to talk to the hospital staff about this and was told I was a grieving mother wanting to blame someone, but that Brook died from other causes.
My life spiraled out of control for a long time; it didn’t spiral into drug use or anything of that nature, just in emotional turmoil. How can you possibly ever recover from this, I cannot explain the pain you go through. I sincerely hope it does not become an experience you become faced with. I had to hide my pain as much as possible because it was too hard on family members to deal with….it hurt them to see me hurting. No one knows what to say, or how to help….because there is nothing that can be done. I had to bottle it up unless I was alone, sometimes it worked, other times it did not. When I went back to work, I had co-workers say “let’s not talk about it” or “just work, it will take your mind off it”….I know they meant well, but work can not stop your heart from breaking. If it had not been for my, at the time, 4-year-old daughter, Kristin, and 11-year-old son, Mike, I don’t know how I would have made it.
I had a physiologist, from the hospital at my disposal, and I talked to her almost daily on the phone when I was alone. She reminded me often that I had two children that needed me. That Brook was already in God’s hands, I needed to stay alive for the two that were here with me. It was her strong voice and statements that helped me so much. So I kept going for Kristin and Mike….not for myself, just for them. I hoped many times that God would just take me, so the decision would not be mine….my baby needed me and I needed to be with him. The daily pain in my heart and soul were unbearable at times. Apparently God had a different plan.
Twenty years later, a law firm contacted me because my son had been given E-ferol. It was, in fact, the cause of my son’s death. FDIC had not approved the vitamin, and the toxins in it were the cause of Brooks death. The corporate officers of this pharmaceutical company went to prison for their part in this tragedy. The civil suit has come to an end now; I’ll meet with the attorney this week. It has been a seven-year process of pouring salt into wounds.
The ending of this case does not end the anguish of losing Brook. Is it part of a healing process, yes it is. The people responsible are being forced to deal with their wrong doings. But the hole in my heart will never be closed. There are more good days than bad thankfully, but when the wave of memory hits, it is if it happened yesterday. The memory of events, moment to moment, do not fade in time, they heighten in anguish incomparable to anything you can imagine. You are helpless to help your child, I am a mother, I am supposed to take care and protect my children….and I failed. No matter what the courts say, I failed Brook and over the years I failed Kristin and Mike in other ways,  maybe because of Brook’s death, I don’t know….and there is no way to undo any of it….so it is what it is and we all live with experiences in life. Maybe mine are not as bad as yours, maybe worse. Regardless, they are sometimes out of our control.
There are times we are able to find closure, through tears, talk, writing or simply working out those differences. We begin to heal and go forward, regardless if it is the direction we had in mind. For this situation there is no closure, not today, not tomorrow…….not ever.