Sometimes it all seems so pointless

Sorry that I haven't been around much these last few weeks; January-March is a very busy, emotional time of year for me, this year even moreso.

Today, I'm going to take the time to sit down and write this post, however, so that you, the reader(s) I have, can get a glimpse into the real life of the girl behind Kelektra, Hyria, Kaeras, and all those other toons, and what's been keeping me so busy.

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On Dec. 21, 2007, at 8:00 am, I received a phone call from my husband. He had been involved in a collision on his way to the optometrist, and was waiting for an ambulance to show up, to take him to the hospital. Without any other vehicles, I called my mom and got her to pick me up and meet him there, because I had his health card. When we arrived, he'd already been admitted and taken for X-rays. He broke his ankle in two places.

Apparently he was driving down one of the highways running through our city; so I'm assuming he was going about 90 kph; when a minivan turned through a red light in front of him. He swerved to try and get out of the way, was clipped by the minivan on the drivers side front quarter of our GMC Yukon, and forced into a light standard (one of the big ones that has the arm that overhangs the street). He told me that the front end of our truck looked like it had been sheared off. The airbags went off, but he suffered only minor scrapes and bruises from that. The driver of the minivan was found at fault, and got a ticket. We've only recently found out due to some phone tag that the damage to our vehicle exceeded $18,000.00 and it was TL'd.

Lonn's been working at home as much as he can, since then, and only 2 weeks ago was given permission to partially weightbear on his ankle, the cast comes off on Mar 11. nearly 3 months after the accident. I feel so bad for him, he missed Christmas and New Years, and many other family events we've had since. But I'll sure be glad when he can help out more around the house again, let me tell ya!

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The second thing that's kept me so busy in the last little while is that on Jan. 22, 2008 I finally got a job, yay me! Since then I've been working about 30 hours a week, mostly shifts from early afternoon till late evening, so a lot of nights I come home and just fall into bed without much pretense. I love my new job, and there has recently been an opportunity within the company for me to move from the position I'm in now (part time Sales Rep) to a full time 11-7, 5 day a week, salaried position. I'm really hoping that I get that position, and my manager says it's pretty much a shoe-in since I have previous knowledge in the field, so we'll see!

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The thing that's kept me most busy, has honestly not really kept me busy at all. This is also the most emotional story for me, so please forgive the lapses that I'm sure are to come with regards to my grammar, and probably train of thought...

When I was 11 years old, and my brother was 8, my parents sat us down one afternoon and told us "Mom and Dad won't be living together anymore.". Well, I was young and naive, so I asked why grandma and grandpa were getting a divorce... To which of course my parents responded that it was them, not my grandparents. I wouldn't hear of it, blew them off, and ran to my room and slammed the door. The next day, my father moved out.

My father and I had always been close, he'd taught me to play baseball and was the coach on my team. He'd always be there when I needed something. He was willing to let me be the tomboy that I was. He'd take me to, and pick me up from all sorts of sports camps, Girl Guide camps, school and extra-curricular events. And on that fateful day in August, when I was 11 years old, it all stopped.

I don't know what changed him, and to this day I really still don't care to know, but I do know this: the man came to my elementary and highschool graduations wearing a suit jacket, nice shirt, pair of shorts, sandals, toe rings, painted toenails, and anklets... I will NEVER live that down. Don't get me wrong, I love my dad, I mean, he's my dad, even if he's eccentric. He's the best grandfather to all his grandkids that I've ever seen... So I don't know what happened that he had to skip his own children... but meh. that's not part of this story...

Anyways, when my dad moved out, the only real male influence in my life became my maternal grandfather, "Willie". He was a quiet, reserved man, but was the biggest jokester you'd ever meet. He was a season ticket holder for our football team, and if you got in the way of his hockey, you'd better watch out! He was sensitive, he'd cry when the National Anthem was played, when one of his grandkids was in a school play, concert or musical, there were always tears in his eyes.

The autumn after my parents divorced, grandpa let me come work at the Curling Club he and my grandmother managed, just small jobs, peeling potatoes for french fries, taking people's food orders, even letting me handle the cash register and some small sales. I'd spend quite a lot of time there after school.

My grandfather taught me to curl; he taught me to play cribbage, and to this day I still have his luck. He taught me the importance of caring for a garden. He also taught me about stirring your tea until your spoon was nice and hot, and then sticking your spoon on the back of someone's hand when they weren't looking. He always made pancakes on sunday mornings, and he'd make mine with mickey mouse ears, or bunny ears, and would give them licorice whiskers and smarties for eyes.

Every year at Easter my grandpa would spend hours writing little rhyming poems, then cut them up into clues, and we'd have to find each part of the poem before the next, and finally the last piece of the poem would lead you to your easter basket full of treats. This was always a favourite of mine, and my brother and little cousins as well.

My grandfather wore pants, socks and shoes in the middle of summer, and when he'd wear shorts instead he'd still wear his white socks pulled up to his knees. We'd sit outside for hours, shucking peas and corn that we'd grown in our little garden, but the peas would never make it inside the house, they'd be gone as we'd sit out there, shucking the corn and giggling.

One summer, we were all out camping, and it was supper time, grandpa sat down on one side of the picnic table, and a friend of the family, without thinking, sat down on the same side as him. The picnic table flipped, and grandpa's plate ended up on his chest. He didn't even miss a beat, just kept eating his food, lying there on the dirt.

I have so many great memories of my grandfather, and I'm so very very glad I do. My grandfather passed away 8 years ago.

He'd been getting weaker and weaker, instead of taking the dog for an hour long walk, he'd come back after just having gone around the block, he slept more, and wasn't as hungry. On Dec. 25, 1999, we learned that he had inoperable cancer. The cancer developed in his bowel, and spread to his liver, kidneys, and lungs. At our New Years Eve party for the new millenium, grandma had to take him home at 8:00 pm. Through all of this, though, he kept promising me that he'd be there when I graduated Highschool in June.

He went into the hospital in early January, and each and every day I went there after school, to spend time with the man who'd become more like a father to me than my own. We'd play crib when he felt up to it, or watch TV on that tiny thing they have in hospital rooms. And my grandpa, always the jokester, was still making us smile. One day his hospital room door was left open and a nurse walked by with an empty IV pole, grandpa called out in his weak, cracking voice "Hey lady, I think you forgot your flag".

Grandpa got to go home on Jan 26th, he didn't want to die in the hospital, so grandma took him home. He died early in the morning on Friday, January 28th, while I was asleep.

The hardest thing I've ever had to do in my life, was lay my grandpa to rest. I read the Eulogy at his funeral, at 17 years old. I sang two songs at his funeral. That June, I graduated Highschool and was given an award that had not been presented to any student in more than 15 years. I'm sure, up in heaven, my grandfather was crying.

It's been 8 years since my grandpa Willie died, and, while each year gets a little bit easier, there are a lot of days, especially around this time of year, when I just want to climb into his lap and play crib with him.

And to this day, whenever I hear our National Anthem, I start to cry.

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Sorry guys, I'm not really feeling much like attempting to end this post on a high note, so, I'll leave you with this: one of the songs that I sang at grandpa's funeral.

The Greatest Man I Never Knew

The greatest man I never knew
Lived just down the hall
And everyday we said hello
But never touched at all

He was in his paper
I was in my room
How was I to know he thought
I hung the moon

The greatest man I never knew
Came home late every night
He never had too much to say
Too much was on his mind
I never really knew him
And now it seems so sad
Everything he gave to us took all he had

Then the days turned into years
And the memories grew black and white
He grew cold like an old winter wind
Blowing across my life

The greatest words I never heard
I guess I'll never hear
The man I thought would never die
S'been dead almost a year
He was good at business
But there was business left to do
He never said he loved me
Guess he thought I knew

© 1993, Reba McEntire