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wStuff You Don't Wanna Know But Are Reading Anyway |
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I dunno how you found this, but alas, here you are. So enjoy the frightening fruits of my troubled little brain.
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wWednesday, August 30, 2006 |
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feeling: so tired...
listening to: nothing
"I have fought the good fight. I have finished the race. I have kept the faith."
If Grandma had had the strength to put together any words in her final moments of life this past Saturday, these may very well have been the ones.
She was in pain for years. Even decades. I think they said she first got sick around 1967, and between that and the sorely outdated treatments they gave her for it (namely pumping her full of steroids), her system just went steadily downhill from there. For as long as any of us ever knew her, there was always something giving her physical grief. I couldn't even count all the ailments and complications to be found in her medical history.
Yet despite all that, somehow she managed to be the strong and steadfast central pillar of her entire extended family. She would do anything in her power to help anyone who came to her, from close family to rare acquaintance to total stranger off the street. But most of all she absolutely lived for her family. Many of the literally hundreds of blankets and rugs and other things she crocheted/knitted/sewed in her lifetime went to her kids and grandkids; some of us grandkids even still sleep with blankets she made for us as tiny children (or did until they literally fell apart). For as long as any of us can remember, every summer she had a regular supply of fresh vegetables from her garden for all her sons' families - bags and bags at a time. And oh, the holiday dinners - you have never seen so much food in your life as you'd see at the feasts our Grandma would cook for the annual Christmas Eve party. The cookies themselves could fill a pickup truck, and believe me, not a single one ever went to waste. When we all got together for dinners and holidays and just random barbecues and had some of the best times of our lives... it was for her. When someone needed to just get away and be among company that made them feel loved and content, they went to her. If there was one person we wanted to please and to make proud of us, it was her. If any of us five grandkids has turned out to be even somewhat decent in this life, it was largely because of her. If not through her direct influence, then by the way she raised her own sons and placed so much value on all of her family.
It goes without saying that the death of a dearly loved one always brings back so many memories. That's what the entire Cottrill clan has spent the past 5 days collectively doing. My own are fewer than most of theirs since I didn't live as close to her as the younger grandkids, and more general than specific, but they all go back to when we lived in that trailer in her backyard until I turned six. My favorite activities in the world as a kid were helping Grandma collect eggs from the chicken pen, walk and feed her dogs, cook and bake, work in her gardens, can/shell/prepare various vegetables... helping Grandma with anything and everything was each grandchild's little treat every day. That and, in my case and my brother's, sneaking across the yard to her house on warm days for fudgesicles. Or just sitting quietly at the table, on the living room floor, or in her lap, playing with toys or reading books or doodling or working on little craft things, all of which she kept in endless stores for us. If we were especially lucky and she felt well enough, she would play piano or sing for us. And I could never count all the memories stored up from times spent at her house with the rest of the family, at various get-togethers and parties... exploring the abandoned gravel pit by the house, running through the rows of cornstalks in her little corn field, playing all over the property with my younger cousins, walking around the perimeter and counting the pine trees lining three of the four edges of the lot... they were all just tiny little things I could tap the tops of when I was barely out of diapers, and now they're some of the tallest pine trees I've seen.
Then, somewhere down the line, we all grew up. My family moved about a 15 minute drive away, so visits were less frequent. And then that demon spawn cousin of ours showed up on her doorstep from Arizona. I won't go into all the horror stories of what happened since her arrival... but suffice to say that the little brat was spoiled rotten beyond salvation within a year, and spent the next seven years after coming here sending Grandma to an early grave, wearing her out and taking advantage of her at every chance she got. Yet Grandma lived for that child just as she had lived for everyone else in her family, and she never gave up. She fought the hard fight. She grew discouraged at times, but she never gave in, never stopped providing for her extended family at every possible opportunity, and never stopped loving. She was a part of everything in all of our lives, and everything we did as a family still revolved around her. She was right at the center of everything, even after her condition had deteriorated to where she couldn't even migrate between rooms in her home anymore. But that didn't stop her from being a part of every activity and conversation. That woman's ears and mind were sharp as an ax - no matter how busy and crowded that house would get, no matter how many rooms away, she could pick up and join in on any conversation she pleased within her house.
The last really great memory I have of Grandma was in May of last year, when she managed to come to Erin's graduation party. No one really expected this, since it was outdoors, hot, and humid, and she could already barely breathe even in air conditioning with her oxygen hooked up... but she actually degraded herself to being carted along in a wheelchair just so she could participate. And when Erin unwrapped a gift from someone that was a colorfully painted screwdriver thing (with various other attachments and stuff but the main bit of it was a screwdriver), Grandma's whispered comment was "Now all you need is a good screw." Our eyes went wide as saucers while she sat there laughing the jolliest laugh and grinning the silliest grin that I had seen from her in years... and would never see again. The good memories didn't stop there, of course, but that was the last really great one that will always stick in my memory. It was the last time I saw her laugh and smile like that since her turn for the worse had begun.
By that time, though, we all knew that she was already in the last few years of her life. Her downhill descent had sped up drastically over the previous year or two and would continue to do so. Every time she was kept in the hospital again, it would cross all of our minds that this could very well be the time when she wouldn't come home. But we never imagined that this last weekend would be that time.
They only wanted to keep her overnight to do tests. Nobody even told me she had been taken to the hospital; I had only happened to overhear it when my mom told my brother that she had fainted as a result of one of her many illnesses flaring up, and they wanted to keep her for tests. Then out of nowhere Dad woke me up the next morning and told me she had died. We knew it was serious, of course... especially when my dad called her that evening and she was so worn out, she didn't even want to talk. That woman NEVER turned down a chance to talk with a member of her family. She lived for those moments. But that night, she just wanted to go home. The next morning... she did. But not to the same one Grandpa returned to.
While we knew the fainting spell had indicated another turn for the worse, nobody could've expected this. She had been hospitalized for far worse complications and far harsher tests/treatments several times over the past few years. Among them were pneumonia and a heart catheterization - and she couldn't handle anesthesia well at all. If she survived those, what could've been different this time? Grandpa is convinced that the hospital staff killed her. By not letting her take her medicine for a whole 2 days and then letting her shock her system by suddenly taking them again that morning. By wheeling her off to do tests that she was sure she didn't need, in places that weren't bothering her at all. They brought her back from those tests, moved her back into her bed... and then she took one last gasp, and was gone. They fought to bring her back, but she had already finished her race. Her fight was over. They let her go, and Grandpa walked out the door... utterly infuriated. They asked him where he was going in such a hurry, and his response was "What do you care? You already took everything I had." He has since refused to talk to the doctors to find out exactly what happened, and what was the final straw that broke her back for the last time. We may just have to accept that she had finally used the last of her strength, and just couldn't fight anymore.
The following few days were painful, but I think everyone in the family drew a lot of strength from one another. Some of our elder relatives came to spend time with her family too... ones we only ever meet with at funerals. And good old Aunt Rador, her talk-your-ear-off cousin from Nawth Carolaahna, hunny chaahld. It sort of hurt to think that, knowing how much Grandma treasured her family and wanted nothing more than to spend time with us, it took her death to get us to visit her house and spend time with each other the way we have this week.
Yesterday we went to the funeral home for calling hours, and I was one of the first to see her. I want to say she didn't even look like herself, even though she did (only because the folks who prepared her did a very nice job), but the biggest difference was that she looked... peaceful. So still, and at rest. No IV needles, no coughing, no involuntary quivering, no labored breathing... no pain. For the first time in nearly 40 of her 70 years in this life, she was at peace.
The viewing and the funeral itself were, of course, intensely depressing. I could have gone off to sit in one of the nice comfy sofas or armchairs instead of being on my feet for hours meeting people I'd never seen before and being bombarded with hugs and sympathies from the ones I did know. But instead I stayed with my parents right at the front of the room for as much of our time there as I could. I'm not normally the type to want a lot of sympathy and pity from people... but I had never experienced a loss this heavy before, either. I guess I needed the strength that these friends and relatives and strangers were constantly offering with their handshakes and hugs and reminiscent chats. But the one thing that hurt the most, especially during the viewing, was seeing all these people filling the hall, buzzing with activity and conversation... and Grandma wasn't part of it. Mom commented that the woman could've happily sat and conversed for an hour with each and every one of them; that pretty much sums it up. In any other situation she would've been drifting around talking to everyone she could find, whether she knew them personally or not... but for all those hours, and through all that activity and chatter... she just lay there, silent and still. It was hard not to just walk over and tap her on the shoulder and tell her to wake up - all these people were here to see her and she was missing the party.
The funeral itself was this morning, and it was much shorter, but of course even more emotional. Even I had to admit that the pastor gave an absolutely beautiful speech for her; he even mentioned those tons of cookies she would bake every Christmas. I had really been wanting to wear the black long-sleeved top that she had made for me a couple years ago, meant for part of a costume but quite lovely and perfectly acceptable to wear on normal occasions, but since I was expecting the usual 90-degree midday heat and pounding sun, I went with a little white sleeveless top instead. Grandma wouldn't want me to be hot and sticky. Had I known that the day would actually be so overcast and downright cool, and that I would stand around shivering most of the time, I would've worn that black top. I will forever hold a grudge against this despicable Ohio weather for depriving me of that. It would've made her so happy to see how much I adore that top and how proud I am to wear it when I can.
It's all pretty much over now. My part, anyway. Of course the task of cleaning things up and settling Grandma's affairs will very likely take a year, if not more. But just because the funeral is over doesn't mean life will go back to normal now. Nothing will ever be the same again. There will always be a vast emptiness in all of our lives where she used to be... a huge void in the room where she used to sit, in the middle of all the activity, during our family get-togethers. I'll never even get another chance to eat one of my favorite childhood snacks, butter and lettuce sandwiches made with fresh lettuce from her garden, because Grandpa is going to abandon the gardens now and I've never found anyone else who grows that kind of lettuce. I don't know what kind it was, but of course, no store-bought head can even begin to compare. Sounds like a strange thing to mourn over, but it's just another of the many simple yet beloved things that have been present in my life since I was a child, thanks to Grandma, but will never see again.
She certainly left her legacy, though. The huge turnout at the funeral home was another testament to just how many lives she touched during her brief stay in this world, and all the laughter and tears another testament to how much of herself she had left behind in so many hearts. As one of her sisters told me in the midst of tears after the service, "We just lost the best friend any of us ever had." No one was so loving and eager to do anything possible for her family as she was. But no matter where we go, no matter how different and empty our lives will be from now on... there'll always be a little bit of Grandma still alive in all of us.
Ok... I'm done. Haven't felt up to talking about stuff too much since Grandma passed away, but now that the funeral and things are over and healing can begin, I figured it was an ideal time. It was a major blow for everyone, but I'll be ok sooner or later, I imagine. And I promise I'll push this depressing stuff down out of sight with a more general standard rambly post before too much longer.
Goodnight, Grandma. Rest well.
comment! (1)
dragged from Becky's stream of consciousness at 8/30/2006 05:10:00 PM
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wTuesday, August 22, 2006 |
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feeling: la la...
listening to: Marmalade Boy drama OP - Wen Shi De Hua
Up to episode 7. >> This song is the devil...
These wasabi noodles Miwa gave me during the tour are really good. o.o I always shied away from wasabi before since I knew it was so spicy and my mutilated stomach doesn't handle spicy stuff well, but these... like, it's spicy on the tongue for a couple of seconds, and then it just fades away and by the time it slides down the throat it's not spicy at all. And since these little dried soba noodles are all healthy and non-filling and stuff, I can snack on them all evening with no guilt. >> I don't know why, but I've been constantly hungry for the past week or so... making up for lost time, maybe. And lost pounds. >> Stupid metabolism.
Anyway... still have that annoying urge to DO stuff ever since I came back from the tour. Good thing, I suppose, but on the other hand I can never figure out what exactly to do. BLOOD translations only keep me busy for a few minutes a day (when Kiwamu doesn't go crazy and post freakin' novels :p), and I'm stumped on all the other side projects I've attempted. So today I decided to go back and review my written Japanese textbooks again, starting from the very beginning of the kanji lessons. Because I know I've forgotten how to write literally hundreds of kanji after not writing them at all for a couple years; I could write about 500 when I graduated, and I can still read most of them, but writing is another story. So hopefully I'll be able to keep that up over the next few days/weeks, commit all those kanji to my memory again, and then start picking up some new ones from my regular online translations and whatnot. Have also been playing with my spoken language software for the past month or so now. Darn it, by the next time BLOOD comes here I'm gonna be a better translator and not stutter and stumble and choke so much when I'm trying to help them. >>;
Also... acting on my recent urges to create "real" graphics, I've tried a few times to download Photoshop 7 (shhhhh ¬_¬), but I can never get it to work. All the torrents I've found for it have been in .rar format, and when I extract them, I get just a few files and the only one I can recognize is a .txt containing a serial number. All the rest have these crazy extensions that I can't even recognize, and my computer doesn't know how to open them. I'm sure these torrents are all full versions and everything, since the filesizes match and all... I just have no idea what to do with them once extracted. Maybe they're not even extracting right. Guess I'll keep trying... maybe try a Photoshop 9 torrent... brushes that were made for versions 6 and 7 would still work in 9, right? *ditz* [EDIT: never mind... YAY, I have Photoshop 7 at last! and of course, along with it came ImageReady... >:D]
My main motivation for this is that I want to make Winamp skins that actually have decent graphics. Yeah, I know... massive and tedious undertaking. But there aren't enough cool skins out there for me in the fandoms that I frequent and I've been wanting to change that for a very long time.
And I can't think of anything else... aaaa wasabi soba tte umai naa...
comment! (1)
dragged from Becky's stream of consciousness at 8/22/2006 07:44:00 PM
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wTuesday, August 15, 2006 |
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feeling: hmmm...
listening to: Flashdance - Maniac
Going to see BLOOD always gives me a renewed interest in them and desire to work my butt off for them in any way possible. Last week's tour was no exception. Since I came home Friday night I've been utterly BLOOD-obsessed. Unfortunately I wasn't able to take any pictures to amuse myself with later, except just a few little crappy ones taken with my cell phone... so feeding the urge has been a challenge. Mostly the best I can do is listen to every BLOOD song I have while rereading my not-for-the-public report, or chatting with other fans, or watching my BLOOD videos and DVDs, or at best, translating any new blogs they post when I'm not looking. Or when I am, for that matter.
Most specifically, this tour ended up reinforcing my infatuation with Kaede. >>; Which is why I've just spent some time browsing through all of his blog entries, both English and Japanese, posted since last November. Not as obsessive as it sounds, believe it or not. ¬_¬ He doesn't post that often, and when he does it's usually only a couple lines. But anyway, in my browsing I found his post from several months ago about the song Maniac from Flashdance, and it got stuck in my head, hence the "listening to" above. >>;
Hopefully in the coming days I'll receive the one picture taken with Roger's camera that I'm quite sure will become the only photo in the world with me in it that I would happily and obsessively show off to the world as if it were my own child... not that I would ever have a child, but you get the concept, right?
So, yes. The trip was a great time. Just wanted to request that you'll all pardon me if I revert to my BLOOD fangirl habits for a while. Heck, why am I even saying "if"? I HAVE reverted. Honestly, an official band staff member shouldn't be this fangirly. 9_9 Darn you, Kaede... you and your nuggets...
But I also found out during the tour that he is a Snoopy fan like me. :D And Canary is one of his favorite BLOOD songs too... <3
comment! (1)
dragged from Becky's stream of consciousness at 8/15/2006 06:34:00 PM
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wFriday, August 04, 2006 |
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feeling: sort of stiff
listening to: Ragnarok Online - Theme of Payon
The game is down again, so I listen to the BGMs in Winamp because I'm a dork...
So yeah. I haven't been posting here or anywhere for a long time. Not much to talk about, really. I think I'm only posting this now because I sort of had an inexplicable urge to write, but not enough mental energy to put it into anything creative. As in narrative or whatnot.
Unfortunately for my urge, as I said, I don't really have much worth talking about. The only actual occurrence of particular significance that I could really ramble about here is that I'll be leaving on Tuesday to follow BLOOD's American tour. All two shows of it. I know I should go to town and pick up some things before I leave but I don't know if it'll actually get done. I hate shopping.
Need to figure out what to pack and stuff too. Already this thing has been sneaking up on me faster and faster, and before I knew it my departure date was only 4 days away. So packing and preparations are beginning to demand attention...
I don't sound too excited, do I? Especially compared to the big Mexico excursion last year. Probably because this time I'll be traveling alone, and nothing is quite as cool when you're only surrounded by strangers, or rare acquaintances at best. And because certain personages responsible for doing all the booking and arrangements have been annoyingly elusive with vital details. *ahem* I really am looking forward to it though. I know everything will work out ok, and it'll be fun to see the guys again. I'll get to hang around with them more too since I'm going as a full-fledged staff member this time. And of course the concerts promise to be excellent as always. A few things worry me of course, but all major trips entail some of that.
Anyway... wish I could do something more with this random writing urge... I actually have some little ideas I could put into some sort of narrative, but there are more roadblocks than I feel like stepping around. Like the fact that I can't decide on a vehicle (adapt them to a fandom? use original characters? apply them to a work in progress or start something new? etc...) and that the shapes they tend to take in my head are things that have already been done in stories I've read before. Did have the idea to work on my Raelin story again, which I barely started and haven't touched in 3 years... but for some reason that doesn't happen either. I think I've lost some of my writing prowess over the past 2 years since graduating. Guess one good thing about being a student was that it kept the mind active. Exhausted, but active, and constantly making use of its stockpiled creativity and logic and vocabulary. Not to mention the food... I would seriously go back to OSU just to be around the food every day...
Huh, I have more tangents in me tonight than I thought.
So yeah... sorry I can't provide any good explanation as to where I've been for the past month, other than locked up here in my own head where I belong. But at least anyone who still visits here will know where I'll be for the next week or so. The weeks after that, however, I can as of yet offer no excuses for. We'll just have to see...
Well, I'm kind of tired, so I guess I'll try to go to bed or something.
comment! (4)
dragged from Becky's stream of consciousness at 8/04/2006 03:59:00 AM
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