A Love Letter to My Pink Goody Brush

Dearest Goody,

            I have never been the same since you came into my life 40 years ago. I remember as though it was yesterday when I caressed your wrap and wondered if I would like you. The way wriggled made me anxious to free you from bondage. I ripped at layers covering you. The moment I saw you I was captured by your colorful beauty and enchanted with all the possibilities of our love. It seemed that our relationship would be full of new discoveries and exploration. I heard you whisper, “Hold me.”

I held you tight and you ran your fingers through my hair. You came at a crucial time and helped me smooth out the tangles and knots that brought frustration. I knew then no one could bring comfort to me like you did. You were the only one that could remove the ugliness I felt. You helped me gain confidence. I cherished holding you first thing in the morning and just before going to bed. I still love having you near me. Thank you for staying by my side.

You are the only one that knows my deep dark secrets. You listen without interrupting or making coldhearted remarks when I shared my pain with you. All my friends envy our unfailing relationship. They remark favorably on how you never complain when I ask you to remove the dirt and grime in my life. You make me feel like a new person every day.

You are irreplaceable, like oxygen is to vegetation and water is to my garden. I will continue to take care of you by washing and removing the knots out of your bristles. I will never let anyone take you from me. Your name “Goody” describes you perfectly. You are priceless with your bright pink sunset color and well-built shape. The strength in your back bone has sealed my determination that our relationship will never be weak.

I’m blessed you’re not flimsy like other brushes. You are perfect for me and the greatest birthday present I could ever have. I’m tickled Mother picked you to be part a part of my life and that she saw your potential in helping me manage my hair. Please always remember, I will love you for as long as I have hair.

Love you forever,

Pamela

Grandma's Green Electric Pot

Each one of us have to go through the steps of life, as new born baby, baby,

 toddler, young child, child, teenager, young adult, adult, middle age adult,

 Senior adult, elderly and then comes death. 

Time never stops and our bodies never stop aging. 

But items like this electric pot stay stuck in the same year it was made

I have kept this green electric pot in remembrance of my grandmother

 who gave it to me in 1989. 

I remember the many turkey soups she cooked in it and 

 I can still envision her cutting carrots,

 potatoes, onions, celery and her putting them in the pot. 

I have used this green pot to make that same turkey soup until I got a cock-pot.

Now it sits in the cupboard taking up space and I keep telling myself 

I need to let it go and just hold on to the memory. 

Look how different this plug is compared to the way plugs look today. 

My grandmother only gave me a few things over the years. 

One was a Miss Beasley doll that I still hold dear to my heart.

 My kids think it looks creepy.  

She also made me a clown that she hand sewed and gave me a shasha doll

The sasha doll container is what my Sasha doll came in 

and the doll with blonde hair the one I have. 

I was not my grandmother's favorite grandchild. 

And many times she told me I was a spoil brat. 

I didn't even understand what a spoil brat was. 

Why do we hold on to the material things that we receive

 from our loved ones that have passed?

My grandmother was never really kind to me.

 She chased me once with a knife, 

slapped me in the face and called me names.

 I guess these items help me to believe 

 I did matter to my grandmother. 

What I really wanted from her was love

 not these physical items. 

I hope my children and grandchildren 

to know that I love them. 

I want to show my love not just give them gifts.

Really is the material things in life what is of value
or is it the memories of spending time together?
I believe it's helping each other to feel like we are important.
My mother last sentence to me was...
"You are worth more to me than millions of dollars."

Mom I feel the same way about you. 

Writing a link to expression

There have been times when I can feel relief after I have written down my thoughts and feelings. It gives me a sense of fulfillment to write on paper. 

I have witness through my mother's writings how her true self is written on paper. Her raw emotional feelings that gave her a sense of fulfillment like it does for me. She was never able to feel valued around others including her parents so she turned to writing and letting all the emotions run out on to the paper. 

Now that she has passed I see how the most valuable gift she has left me is her writings. Her deep feelings that are capture on paper. I see writing like a picture. It captures a scene that gives a view into another persons world. 

Like when you read a book and take in the story you can feel like you are in the story or watching it as it its a movie you are a part of. 

Journals are not popular like Facebook and Instagram are, they have become the new way of journaling. I personally feel keeping a written hand journal is still the most valuable way to capture those important events, stories and trials. 

Should we put on paper our problems, trials and concerns? I have learn so much from reading my mothers struggles, concerns and trials. Her experiences have given me a different perspective on how to cope in this world we all live in. She dealt with depression, anxiety and physical pain and to be able to read her thoughts of how she coped has been a blessing to me. 

Oh how I miss her. I miss her birthday messages and stories. I miss her voice and comforting words. 

I hope I can give to my daughters the same comfort she gave to me. 

Life, real life

Life changes physically, mentally, and spiritually as the years pass.

We spend billions of dollars on homes, cars, and material items that years later will fall apart and be worthless. 

Life with relationships that are built upon love, compassion, spiritual meaning will never fall apart if cared for. 

When I drive down the road and see how buildings, homes and parks which were once beautiful have been demolished and never having the same meaning as it did. 

My grandparents home has been demolished and the land it was on doesn't have any indication that it occupied a home that a family lived in. That home is where my dad, his parents and sisters lived. And now it's no where to be seen. 

We all, including me want to leave a legacy after we have passed some type of indication that we once walked the earth. 

What legacy do I want to leave?  What legacy do you want to leave? 

What really is important for others to remember about me? Have you thought about what you want others to remember about you?

I have always wanted to know what it would be like to see out of two eyes.

Why did I think that my vision impairment was the reason my high school boyfriend dump me. Crazy me.

We all have a desire to be loved and cared for even if we are born with deformities or given physical or mental struggles that are a daily task to cope with.

Love ❤️ My Hearing Aids!

Wow! Since I have gotten my hearing aids I have been able to hear birds, paper being folded, my dog eating and drinking out of her dish, the dish washer running and the microwave. What a blessing these two small expensive hearing aids have been. All they are is two small items that have given me a new out look on life and the opportunity to be a part of a conversations. The only draw back is the batteries don't last long in them. ;(

Im getting hearing aids!

I have Congenital Rubella Syndrome caused from my mother having the German Measles while 4-6 weeks pregnant with me. So, I had Rubella when I was a fetus which gave me birth defects. I'm blind in my right eye and have no hearing in my right ear.

I'm thrilled that next Tuesday I'm getting my first set of hearing aids. I'm nervous about how I will cope with having something in my ear, but excited that I will be able to hear birds chirp, cars coming down the road, conversations that I miss out on because I can't hear everything that's been said. I won't have to ask, “what did you say?” It has been even more difficult to be a part of a conversation when people are on my blind side and miss their respondes and facial expressions.

For those of you who have hearing aids can you share with me how you first got use to them? Any advice would be a blessing.

Feelings, thoughts and wonders

 How many of you ever feel out of place when you go to an event, party or family activity?
I know for me there have been times I felt like I didn't belong. Like I'm the lost puppy trying to figure out where I fit in. Several times over the years I have found myself looking around the room at others and observing their face expressions and movements. Like, today I went to a bridal shower and focused on others body language. You know the smile, step forward or away.

When I have a conversation with someone I always let them talk about their life and experiences, I give them control of the conversation because I know if I don't the conversation will end quick.
Why do we feel a need to be the one to talk and not be the one to listen?

When I was growing up, and living with other people while my mother was in the hospital I dreamed of a normal family with family vacations and making lasting memories. When I have a conversation with others and they share their childhood it makes me wish I had those experiences. I guess we always think the grass is greener on the other side.

My husband has videos of  his family growing up and living all over the world. I on the other hand have memories stuck in my head of a life I did not want to have. I envied the experiences my husband had when he was young, because I dreamed of having those types of experiences while living with other families.

My parents did the best they knew how given the circumstances of mental illness invading our home. My mother always played second fiddle in the eyes of my grandmother. She could never measure up to her older sister that my grandmother thought the world of. My grandmother actions towards my mother affected not only me, but my brothers and Father.

Her actions have made me want to not be like her. I want to be loving to my children, grandchildren and husband. I want to be loving to my family and friend, because the way we treat others can have a lasting impact on not just them, but others.

My goal is to always realized that I might feel like the lost puppy in a room, but there are others in the room that feel the same way. Some come from broken homes, some had a adventures like my husband and some lived the path I lived. We all need to see that are hearts beat the same way and we all have desires to feel loved and wanted.