Dear Whoever…, #62

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Dear Whoever,                                   3/2/’12 – 3/4/’12

“A man has always to be busy with his thoughts if anything is to be accomplished.”   -Antonie van Leeuwenhoek

“According to the U.S. Census, the most common reason people give for not voting is that they were too busy or had conflicting work or school schedules.”   -Jeff Miller

“Always gotta keep busy or the voices start telling me to do wild things.”   -Steve Brown

“As busy as I claim to be, I’ve still got the greatest job in the world.”    -Peter Criss

“A charming woman is a busy woman.” -Loretta Young

7

Dear Daddy,                                 3.2.’12.

        I’ma write you a nice long letter to make up for the days I haven’t written even though I happen to know you hate reading. But before I really dive into what’s been happening these last few days, I figured I’d touch on the quotes I picked and why I picked them because that’s always a little bit of fun on a Friday night instead of going out and doing something….. not that I don’t like staying home because now that you’re gone we’re always out of the house anymore and I just wanna stay home…I’m not used to not being home……anyways…. I chose the first quote because my mind has been pretty busy lately and I’m actually finally getting something accomplished, I’m writing this letter. The second quote I chose, I chose simply because it had something to do with voting and the presidential election is coming up, sometime in the fall I think. The third quote I chose is because I believe it to be true. The fourth quote was picked by myself because… I do have the greatest job in the world….I’m a kid. A teenager. I have the job of being young. Of learning. And that to me, is the greatest job no matter how busy it keeps me, or I claim it keeps me. That brings me to my last quote choice, and if this past week is any indication, I chose it because, I must be one hella charming lady. You should be mighty proud right about now. I tried to build up to that, I was hoping for a chuckle or a smirk. I think I might have earned a little one if you were still around to read this. Of course if you were here I wouldn’t write you a letter, I wouldn’t speak, I’d simply curl up near you with my head on your chest.

           To get through all this and still make sense, I should pick up where I left off last time right? Well last time I left off was a week ago almost. I left off on the 25th. Dylan’s birthday party. So let’s continue onto the 26th. I might be on this day awhile. The morning started early, waking up at 5am. We loaded everything into the car, and then waited around for Mendy. Mendy stopped by Del Taco and picked up food. When she showed we didn’t waste time. They ate and we left. Mom driving, Mendy shotgun, Mendy’s daughter and Sister on my sides in the backseat. We drove Mom’s car. We found Kris’ cross after 2 hours of driving, a stop at a gas station to relieve ourselves and stock up on snacks and drinks, and 2 false starts down 2 wrong dirt roads. It was warm that day. They paved the road that the cross sits off of ya know? The last time we went there was 4 years ago in 2008. The cross was rusted on the west side. We got right to work after stepping out of the car. Sister set about clearing the tumbleweeds with the skinny shovel we brought, Mendy’s daughter helped with her. Mendy and I put on the 2 pairs of gloves we had and pulled out the scraggly, hard weeds that had grown up through the rocks piled at the base of the cross. Mom broke out the camera(shocker there huh?). After that we removed the rocks and Mendy and I set about spraypainting it white. Plaque and all. Admittedly, Mendy did pretty much all of it but only because I got stuck with an old half-full can of spray paint that you had in the shop or wherever Mom had found it. Then we spray painted a little angel stake thing that someone had left there among the rocks to rust away just like the cross itself. As we waited for the cross to dry, we sang happy birthday to Kris which is endearing and weird at the same time. Who sings happy birthday to a dead person? Apparently, I do. Then we ate cupcakes that we made and brought. After that Sister and Mendy used the little black car-paint-scratch-fixer-paint brush to paint in the words on the plaque. It was really hard. I did a few like the I and 2 and A. Did I already write about this? This sounds so familiar. If so, I’m sorry. My mind is rather scattered lately. I blame it on being busy. Then after we let those dry, Mom had some pics of Kris laminated and ready. We taped those on right under the plaque, the spray paint was still a little wet which helped it stick. Then we used packing tape and sealed it off. For good measure, we ziptied them too. Then Mom had brought one of the memorial paper things from your service. She had laminated that one the night before too. We had a debate between the 4 of us of where to put yours, what place would it stay best, what side to flip up. We ended up putting it under Kris’ pictures. Taped and ziptied, with the picture laden covers showing out. Then we arranged the flake flower vines we had bought and ziptied them to the cross beam of the cross. They don’t cover his name. It was a vine of cardboard or chipboard, with fake white flowers intertwined. Then we had some fake yellow roses, ya know whose favorite flowers those are? Yours. That’s right. We did the house up with them for your service too. We spaced them out and they stand out mighty fine against the green and white. Ziptied those on as well. Then we took no fewer then 50….thousand(it seemed like anyways) pictures, even stopping a lady and a man going by to take one of all of us. We drove away then. Just as the bees were finding what they thought were nectar filled roses. How deceiving fake flowers can be. Then we were driving and someone came up with the idea to go visit Uncle C while we were already up there, plus Aunt C had some of Mom’s bowls. They have 6 little Yorkies now. All females but the 1 male, the daddy of them all. And they still got those two big red Aussies outside as well. I’m sorry to say it but Uncle C don’t look to good and he’s getting sorta batty. He’s still really funny and somewhat smart but I worry about him. He walks with a walker. The walker doesn’t make it through most of the doorways. And he can’t walk without it. He almost fell just standing without it. He was only awake for about an hour when we were there and then he had to go to sleep before we even left. We went home after that.

             The 27th went by without much exciting happening. My friends were bugging me about my birthday. I did you proud and told them I wanted nothing, expecting nothing, needed nothing.

             The 28th well that’s when a lot happened. I couldn’t tell you what I wore that day but I remember getting ready in the morning. Mom put a present, a bag, on the kitchen counter. I pretended to not notice it as I went on with my routine. I snagged the card though, when Mom wasn’t looking and tucked it into my school folder along with the 3 other cards/letters I recieved in the mail. Then an ad came on the tv for IHOP advertising their giving away a free shortstack of pancakes in honor of National Pancake Day. I personally felt a little sick to my stomach already and didn’t want pancakes but Sister had a test first period and had a sudden craving. So we went we ordered our stuff, we ate. Sister and I went to school and Mom went home. Then I get to school all late and there are balloons and signs taped to my locker. I may not have a ton of friends, but the few I have are worth it. I get my books and go to the last 20minutes of second period. Then in passing period. I am surprised my a handmade card from Friend B, a fancy looking store bought cupcake complete with a bow from Friend I, a bag of random candy from Friend M. And a giant hug from friend J and an apology and excuse(she didn’t wanna make me mad but she made the sign for my locker). It was nice. Not too much but enough where I felt special. During school Andrew and his friends sang to me as I came out of 5th period. It was really nice. They are good kids. Andrew also picked me up and swung me around in the middle of the hallway. I love him. As a friend. Calm down. After school Sister drove me to the other campus where I had soccer tryouts and then she went back to the highschool and went to math help while I did my passion, my soccer. She waited on me the last hour of tryouts and I think I did pretty good. It was tiring though. When we got home, Mom wanted to leave and take me to Vince’s. However, I smelled. I was sweaty. I was extremely tired. And in all honesty- I just wanted to sleep and stay home. These pictures are what I saw in the kitchen as soon as I came through the door.

                             So this is what I saw. Mom made me a checkered cake but she didn’t put it together. The cupcakes were just from the extra batter. I took a shower, got yelled at for taking to long, and then as we got in the car I invited Mendy and her family. It was last minute so they couldn’t, understandably. Mom and Sister argued the whole way there, I cried silently, and then I pretended to fall asleep with my ipod on low. We stopped at the AT&T store to get kim’s phone fixed. Mom went in and yelled because we were going to late and Kim came back into the car, in a more bitter mood then she left it. I pretended to sleep again. We showed up fifteen minutes late, as usual. Aunt 1 was there with her boyfriend. We got a table. We ordered. I coughed a lot. I was sick but now I’m better. Aunt 1 was on Sister for being on her phone and Sister and I were sour. I was quiet and I couldn’t listen to my music. I swear Aunt 1 had drank before she came because she was really mean to Sister, and riding her the whole time. Aunt 1, Boyfriend 1, and Mom chatted. I only spoke when someone talked to me directly. Sister talked even less. At one point, Aunt 1 took me down towards the shop part of Vince’s and we looked at shirts. It was for my birthday because she hadn’t got me anything, not that I needed anything. Aunt 1 was a real pain to the poor lady, I felt bad. I always do. You know that. We ended buying a yellow shirt with their emblem on it. Back to the table. Dinner passed. I was sung Happy Birthday to. And Aunt messed that up to. Then Mom made me open my present. A bag that I pretended I didn’t see sitting on the kitchen counter this morning. I got a dress, a sweater, a Snoopy t-shirt, and some more pajama pants. After that we went back to AT&T where Sister got her phone fixed. Then Sister convinced Mom to go to the mall because she had to get a skirt for a presentation for school. We then spent two or three hours in two stores. I got three pairs of socks for .99 cents each and Mom wouldn’t let me buy them. Kim got spoiled as usual. After that we went home with more bickering on the way. We got home and slept.

          On the 29th, we went to school and Sister ended up getting sick and leaving early, without telling me. I skipped soccer tryouts that day. We went to the lawyer who wrote up your trust. No surprise, I was irritated with him, with his kind. I restrained myself from saying anything I shouldn’t have though(Be proud). Mom’s cousin went with us. Uncles A & B didn’t though. They should have. We got home after and then Mom invited her cousin over later for the checkered cake she made, and then she invited Mendy over and her family. Only my Twin came with her later that night. It was good. And then we played a couple rounds of The Mexican Train Game and they left as it was a Wednesday. During the game, I took care of Sister. This is when she really started getting sick and vomiting. Oh, don’t worry. I took care of our baby. Even if she is older than me, she’ll always be my baby sister. I’m used to people throwing up, I took care of you and you were so so much worse. It was never your fault though, so feel no guilt. That was all she wrote for that night. Oh, P.S. I do think I cried on the 28th. For you. I do miss you ya know. And I love you more than you could ever understand. I was and I am a mini version of you.

       Nothing really happened on March 1st except for soccer practice and I waited at the Donut Shop for Mom to pick me up since Sister hadn’t went to school and didn’t feel well enough to drive me. March 2nd was pretty interesting. It’s a Friday so I got out early as usual. I had soccer practice, I didn’t go. Because back in January I made a commitment first. So I went to school, did that whole boring thing. I wore the dress and sweater Mom had got me and Sister’s boots. I looked good, I ain’t gonna lie. And you’d be amazed at how much your little girl has grown up. After school, I went to the multipurpose room and took my seat at the Poetic Expressions thing. I’d be saying the poem that I said at your memorial. It was a whole month since I last said it and I was a little rusty but those words are burned forever in mind like they have been the last 10 years since Kris died. I was second to last. I said my piece. I said it well. I didn’t trip, didn’t use a prompt, didn’t tear up till the last stanza. My voice broke but not completely. People from my class were there. I didn’t want to look a fool. I didn’t want them to see me weak. I sat down. I cried silently as the next person went up and ended the show. I got a slice of muffin as soon as it was after and left. After all, nobody was there to hug me and tell me I did amazing. Nobody was there to hug me tight as the tears rolled down. I got my bag and left. I got dressed in the bathroom. Into my soccer garb and walked down to the other campus. There was twenty minutes left when I got there and I played all of them. After, I left, walked up the street to the cross walk, which wasn’t smart considering there was a closer light and I had went the long way. By now it was three pm. I walked to Taco Bell and bought cinnamon twists. I sat down and pulled out my folder and began coloring. Just filling in squares of my graph paper with my Sharpies. I called Mom and let her know where I was at. I would have to wait there for the next 2 hours till she got off work and could pick me up. I know you disapprove of me staying by myself somewhere in this world with all the nuts around but what was I to do? Then about an hour later, Mom called to tell me that her friend from work would be picking me up and taking me to Mom’s work. She did. I gave her my last two cinnamon twists in thanks. When I got to Mom’s work, I changed back into my dress in the bathroom, considering soccer shorts, a PE shirt, high socks, and little casual boots didn’t really go well together. I then waited another hour for Mom to get off. We went home.

                  March 3rd, ((I’m almost caught up)) was yesterday technically but who gives a damn? Excuse me. Anyways, I got up at a quarter to 6. I began putting clothes away in my room. I got most of them done when Uncle B showed up with his bobcat and Tony. We would be splitting wood today. I miss it. I think I miss it simply because you taught me how to, and it was one of our things. Something the women folk (AKA Mom and Sister) didn’t do. Even though I’m a female as well, I could work, I liked it, I liked being out there in the dust, heaving logs about, working the handle. Luke and Greg showed up about 10. The conditions were absolutely horrible. The wind was going and blowing the dirt around. My eyes felt like sandpaper by the time we were done. Tony just watched in the beginning because he was out of his element. He’s a fast learner, I’ll give him that. It took forever to get the splitter going because Uncle B had no idea how to, neither did I in all honesty, you always started it up. Greg got it going however and I the conveyor. The conveyor crapped out not too long into it and Greg and Luke got it fixed. It broke again later on and nobody could fix it. You could but you’re not here. You don’t know how much I wished I would’ve learned how to before you left. Wished I had paid a little more attention to you fixing it before. But before I had nothing to worry about. I’d have you forever. How young and foolish was I? How ignorant? Very. We split a good bit but I didn’t do any of it. Uncle B and Luke made me run the handle, which I was going to do already because I was going to be a b***h and pull the ‘I’m in charge’ card. But I still thought I’d be helping with the actual splitting. Nope. Instead I stood there for 5 hours and raised and lowered my left hand just barely, watching everybody’s fingers and making sure none of them got cut off. We had a few close calls. I think they made me run the handle because if I was to get hurt, they couldn’t live with theirselves. Like they owe it to you to keep me out of harm’s way the best they can. We got through most of the wood by 3:30. Only a little remained. Everything we split we had to hand throw and then Uncle B on his little toy of a bobcat pushed it into the pile. He really is like a little kid on that thing. He almost crushed Luke and knocked Tony out. I didn’t talk. Didn’t raise my voice hardly. God I wanted to but it was so dry and who would listen if I did? That was pretty much all I did yesterday. Well Mom and I watched a cooking movie. It inspired me. Then she told me to put in another movie that we had bought her for Christmas. P.S. I Love You. That’s what it was called. I feel sick because I chose it. I didn’t know what it was about though. I cried towards the end. Mom got up for most of it and didn’t really watch it. I don’t blame her. I wouldn’t force myself through that pain. But I watched it. And did it ever remind me of you. Well of you leaving and us dealing with it. It reminded me of the memories, the fights, the flashbacks, the love that we had. The love that we have. I feel bad that I turned it on though. Because in the movie the husband dies from a brain tumor and poor Mom. It would just suck to be in her place and watch that movie. It sucked enough being in my place and watching it. Anywho, it’s nearly 1am of March 4th so I best be getting to bed before I’m not gonna wanna get up tomorrow.                      -I’ll write soon, eshy,

P.S. I will always love you.

P.P.S. One last thing:

           

I just thought you should get to see it in it’s glory. I love you. I love both of you. Be good now and don’t get kicked out before I get there.

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Dear Whoever…, #60

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Dear Whoever Likes To Read My Letters,                                                                                                                             2.24.2012.

“A person who can write a long letter with ease, cannot write ill.” -Jane Austen

“A Train was born without any effort – if was like writing a letter to a friend.” -Billy Strayhorn

“Even when I have to write a simple letter I’m scared stiff as if faced with looming seasickness.” -Gustav Klimt

“After the writer’s death, reading his journal is like receiving a long letter.” -Jean Cocteau

                                   Ya know what I think? I think so many things but here’s what on my mind this moment. I think that funerals are for the family and not for the person who’s being buried. I think that whoever is messed up enough to keep a dying person alive on a machine for the rest of their life, is selfish. I think that a dead man’s last wishes should be honored. I can give you three reasons of proof for each one of these thoughts.

I think…

  • funerals are for the family and friends and not for the person who’s being buried.
  1.  They give the family and friends closure.
  2.  The person being buried is already gone.
  3. There’s always a party. You think dead people party much? I do but not on earth.
  •  that whoever is messed up enough to keep a dying person alive on a machine for the rest of their life is selfish.
  1.   The dying person isn’t really living if he has to stay hospitalized on a machine to live.
  2.  The dying person is probably in a lot of pain, with or without meds, even on the machine, and if the family is just keeping the person around because they can’t part with him, is selfish. Because they’re making said person live in pain just so they can stay content and not embrace the inevitable change death brings.
  3. The people see the pain that the person is in and choose to let them suffer.
  • a dead (wo)man’s last wishes should be honored.
  1. He’s gonna die. He ain’t gonna keep bugging you for stuff after (s)he’s finally gone.
  2. It’s honor. You’re honoring the person’s life by carrying out the last wants of them.
  3. If not to honor them it’s a way to carry them on in the surviving people’s lives. They, themselves cannot go on, but their wishes can.

I don’t really know why I wanted to talk about that today but that’s just what I ended up with. So onto my other letter.

5

Dear Dad,                                                                                                                                                                  2.24.’12.

          How’ve you been? Hopefully better than me. I finished that writing thing and entered it. A lot of people liked it. And my teacher even read it to Hannah’s seventh grade class. I helped a girl find God today, Daddy. It was surreal. I held Hannah too, after revival was over, I didn’t give a rat’s a** about the no touching rule. That was me. She was crying because Luke’s dad died. You know that. That happened before you were gone. But she was crying also because Luke’s uncle now has the same thing and the chemo treatment to kill it, affects his kidneys and his kidneys suck off the bat. I learned last year in science that kidneys filter your blood. Uncle G has bad kidney’s too right? And that’s why Cousin’s girlfriend gave up one of hers right? I want to do something like that for someone today. Maybe a kidney, maybe a lung, most definitely blood though. As soon as I get over my fear of needles and looking at my own blood being drawn out of me.

         I hope I made you smile. I’m sorry I haven’t written you in a couple days. I’ve been busy and I’m gonna be even busier the next few days. My birthday’s in 3-4ish days, can you believe that? I remember you asking me how old I was every time my birthday rolled around and before I could answer you’d ask 3? Or 4? No older than 5 surely. And you’d smile. Before I always thought you were being mean but now I know that you were definitely not trying to flatter me. What 7yr old wants to be younger? Little kids look forward to being older. So if it wasn’t flattery, what was it? I know now. It’s that I’d always be your little girl no matter how old I got.  For that makes me smile a small somewhat sad smile. I love you, Dad. I do. I always will. That will never change. I love your little code messages like that one that nobody ever got. That I never got. Till now.

        Soccer tryouts weren’t this week. But they’re supposed to be next Monday and Tuesday. On my birthday. I’m excited. I’m a little nervous though. You’d never guess I was either though by the blank stare on my face right now. Tomorrow we’re going to Dylan’s birthday party, I think. And then I believe on Sunday, we’re going to visit’s Kris’ memorial. I cry just thinking about it. Because the last time I was there I was with you. You and I paused the longest. Nobody understood but me and you. We were in sync in that way. The last place I was even remotely similar to that of Kris’ memorial was when you took me shooting. Remember that? I do. You were always telling me survival tips. Remember how we got stuck in the sand in your brand new truck? I do. Danny helped us out, remember? Then we drove a little further and started shooting again this time with Danny. I remember you guys talking when you thought I couldn’t hear, saying how good an aim I have and how women have a thing for the automatic. I smiled and leisurely squeezed off more rounds. Danny has offered to take us shooting. I want Sister and Mom to learn how to shoot but then I want to be selfish. I want to be selfish and just keep our shooting as a you and I thing, a special thing just between you and me. However, I do want them to be able to protect themselves.

            Another thing that was between me and you is the wood. I want to get back to splitting and if possible I want to keep the business going. However, I split the wood. Uncle A and Uncle B see no reason to keep the splitter or conveyor around and there goes even more of you that I can still use. So deciding to wait on splitting, I wandered around the shop. I do that sometimes now. I found that log. The one we made those coasters out of? I want to make those and sell or give them away. Maybe even make a trademark stamp and make it official. Do you know what type of tree that log was off of? Do you remember what saw you used to cut it with? I don’t. This is why I need you here. To teach me the things you didn’t get to teach me yet, to show me how to do the things you always just did for me. To watch wrestling with me, to watch Bonanza with me. To kick or toss a ball around with me. To listen to my newest paragraph of my story. To laugh at my little scream of terror as my chickens came towards me. To fence in the newest hole in the dog pen. To keep the peace between me and Sister and me and Mom. And more importantly, ask me what’s wrong when nobody else knew I was upset. That’s what i miss about you. How nobody else understood me but you did. And now I don’t have you. Now nobody gets it. Now I’m alone. There’s nobody sitting out there with me in the shop no more. I’m not keeping anybody company anymore. I miss you.                           -Love you forever and always, eshy

Psssst, Dad. P.S. The world is full of 747’s. I think I got a chuckle out of you. 

Well thanks for tuning in and reading today’s letter, folks. Come back again soon.     -The Determined, eshy,

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