Thursday, June 24, 2010
Bobbie & Isaac
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Bobbie
Dear Blogger Friends,
Our mom passed yesterday afternoon. She went peacefully with all four of her children around her.
As it turned out, the surgery, always a high-risk idea, was no longer a viable option. Mom asked for them to remove the balloon pump on her leg that was helping relieve the pressure on her heart. She went soon after that. We all had a chance to talk to her and love her before she could no longer communicate.
Our mom has always touched people. Growing up, all of my friends referred to her simply as “mom.” She adopted them into our lives readily and with ease and never let them go. Old friends and more recent friends of mine alike ask me about her every time we talk.
And you, her blog friends, meant the world to her. She mentioned you all to us often in conversations and emails. We were frequently directed to check out so-and-so's post today. You taught her things; you made her laugh; you valued her input. It was a whole new world to her that opened at the end of her life and added a dimension she was immensely grateful for, and so are we. Not only did all of you give her so much, she was able to give a
gain, too – not just to you, but to us – we learned a great deal about what mattered to her, some of it reminders, other things new discoveries about our mom. She got to matter at a time when her body was failing and so much was out of her control.
Friendship is something that I have been pondering in a serious way for some time now. I don't have any real answers, but part of what I'm learning is that friends, love and support come from where they are needed, when they are needed.
The ultimate example of the importance of who cares when it matters most would have to be mom's nurse in ICU, Maryanne. She was with mom only the last day - for maybe the last eight hours before she died. Maryanne had to have been one of the kindest, loveliest people I have ever met. She knew just what to do and say to comfort mom and us at each stage. What more could a soul ask for but to be escorted to the next dimension by such a loving, compassionate being?
We all know about the value of old friends, but there are new friends that arrive also, some of them suddenly and perhaps only for the briefest of seasons, like Maryanne. These friends are just as important in a life as the long haul relationships. Though most of you only knew mom a relatively short time and only over the internet, you were key players in her life. There are, as one musical has put it, Seasons of Love. You all came into the picture in the final act; and what power you wielded!
Our mom was passionate about many causes as you know and can see from her sidebar – so laden with links it takes forever to load the page and was the single impetus for my husband to install flash blocker on our computer! But truly, she cared. She cared about the world and all of you deeply.
When I asked her for the last time what she wanted me to post on her blog, she said,
“A picture of Isaac.” I will be adding a photo montage to this page (not just of Isaac, but of my mom) in the next few days, so you can look for that. And I will undoubtedly be writing about her on my own blog. I am already filling journal pages with thoughts.
Speaking for myself at least, I am so very happy for the personal notes addressed to each of us, the journals and all of her blog stories she left behind. My mom and I shared a love of writing and words that ran deeper than I had even realized.
As difficult as this loss is for all of us to grasp and accept and as difficult as it will remain for a long time, she was ready to go. She is finally where part of her has been looking forward to being for the last 34 years – with our father.
She is no longer Almost There. She has arrived.
With much affection and gratitude from the family,
Kitty, Bobbie's youngest daughter
Barbara Joan Petruccelli
March 16, 1932 – June 19, 2010
Friday, June 18, 2010
Small update
Kitty again. My mom has apparently changed her mind and is opting for the open heart surgery. She will likely be in surgery Saturday.
When she gave me administrative access to her blog, she seems to have left out the comment moderation privileges. I can't release the comments on these posts, at least until I get my hands on her very own computer. Until then, thank you for any good thoughts.
When she gave me administrative access to her blog, she seems to have left out the comment moderation privileges. I can't release the comments on these posts, at least until I get my hands on her very own computer. Until then, thank you for any good thoughts.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
In the Hospital
Hello. This is Kitty, Bobbie's daughter, writing. We thought we'd let you know that my mom is in the hospital. She suffered a major heart attack on Monday. To our great surprise and delight, early Wednesday afternoon, she was off the ventilator and talking and joking with us and the hospital staff. She has declined open heart surgery and things are obviously still very serious.
She says, “See you when I get back.”
Monday, June 14, 2010
Early Morning Train of Thought
In the quiet of the morning, when I first awake - That is the time when I write down whatever pops into my head. At other times of the day, I may decide there is a subject I'd like to address, and I may schedule a post for another day. But it is in the early hours when I let my mind wander like this, and do not really know where it might go.
There is no title on the post. I haven't yet discovered what it will be about. Oh yes. I guess it will be about me, since my thoughts are turning back in time.
For the first twenty-three years or so of my life I lived in a quiet suburb of Philadelphia. "The Big City" was the Philadelphia of the forties, and even that was not really a part of my life until I had reached my twenties. It wasn't exactly "Mayberry", but not all that far from it either. I dreamed of traveling to distant places, but they were very romantic, unrealistic and unsophisticated dreams. My thinking was still pretty much governed by my own very little world, and influenced mainly by my mother and our immediate circumstances. I was still seeing the people in my life through the eyes of a child. I had not yet questioned them, nor myself. Nor my friends or neighbors or teachers, or the government. I think I was still following my mother's method of getting through life by not looking too closely, pretending that all was right with my world and we would all live happily ever after.
I think it was 1956 when I became restless enough that, when a friend from high school called to ask if I'd like to move to New York with her, without even thinking twice I agreed to go. I suddenly felt free, and wasn't even sure what I was freeing myself from, or why. Life changed.
In New York, I came alive. Things were happening around me. People seemed to have purpose and ideas that were new to me, and my own mind shifted into higher gear. I was delighted to learn so much more about my own abilities and to develop so many more interests.
And I met a man whom I recognized very quickly to be the one who would become the center of my life. There was no question. We would spend the rest of our lives together. Anything else would be unimaginable. I was home. We were married about a year later, and did, indeed, live happily ever after. - It was really only for eighteen years after, until his death, but it was my lifetime.
A couple of years beyond that lifetime, I moved to South Jersey with three of my children, to be closer to my sister and my mother. It seemed the thing to do. My husband and I had talked about this move for a long time. Just never seemed to go ahead with the plan. Life in New Jersey was very different than fast-paced New York. It was more relaxed. I was still in a sort of zombie-like state as a widow. My son was unhappy for a while, feeling he had been torn from his friends and the life he had known - although in truth, his friends had also left the home town to start their adult lives. My daughters thrived. We soon adjusted and slipped into the slower, easier way of life.
I like it here. I guess that's obvious, since I've stayed for thirty-two years now. It has to be obvious, even to me. But there are many things I dislike. There is the way-too-lay-back attitude of a large part of the population. The signs on the shop doors in the mall tell you that their hours are 10: to whatever. But If you arrive at 10:, they may or may not be open yet. When they straggle in they will tell you, "Oh, I didn't make it that early today. Something came up." If you call a contractor, he may - or may not - show up that day. "Well, the fishing was good." There are still an amazing number of locals who work all summer when the tourists are here, and then go on Workmens' Comp all winter. Between farming and fishing, it is only in very recent years that most of the kids do graduate from high school. Attitudes are changing. But slowly.
No, I don't like that attitude - especially when it extends to more important areas. Is it my imagination, or do doctors here not follow up on things as they do in New York or Pennsylvania? Is law enforcement just a little more lackadaisical? Well, that may or may not be so. (Pause here to look up that "l" word in the dictionary. That's what it says. A word I haven't used in a long, long time.)
But I like the quiet and slower pace, and the beauty around me. New development taking away so much farmland and forest makes me sad, but there is still much left. My mother and sister and many friends are gone now, but my own life is winding down and I find I have memories enough to get by on. My computer allows me to "travel" wherever I wish and to stay in contact with the rest of the world.
It's almost breakfast time. I should call a halt to this, find a title to fit if it's worth naming, and explore what my kitchen has to offer today. I may or may not decide to publish this. Not really very interesting. Oh well. Nothing else has presented itself. I always reassure myself with the thought that readers can always just hit "delete".
There is no title on the post. I haven't yet discovered what it will be about. Oh yes. I guess it will be about me, since my thoughts are turning back in time.
For the first twenty-three years or so of my life I lived in a quiet suburb of Philadelphia. "The Big City" was the Philadelphia of the forties, and even that was not really a part of my life until I had reached my twenties. It wasn't exactly "Mayberry", but not all that far from it either. I dreamed of traveling to distant places, but they were very romantic, unrealistic and unsophisticated dreams. My thinking was still pretty much governed by my own very little world, and influenced mainly by my mother and our immediate circumstances. I was still seeing the people in my life through the eyes of a child. I had not yet questioned them, nor myself. Nor my friends or neighbors or teachers, or the government. I think I was still following my mother's method of getting through life by not looking too closely, pretending that all was right with my world and we would all live happily ever after.
I think it was 1956 when I became restless enough that, when a friend from high school called to ask if I'd like to move to New York with her, without even thinking twice I agreed to go. I suddenly felt free, and wasn't even sure what I was freeing myself from, or why. Life changed.
In New York, I came alive. Things were happening around me. People seemed to have purpose and ideas that were new to me, and my own mind shifted into higher gear. I was delighted to learn so much more about my own abilities and to develop so many more interests.
And I met a man whom I recognized very quickly to be the one who would become the center of my life. There was no question. We would spend the rest of our lives together. Anything else would be unimaginable. I was home. We were married about a year later, and did, indeed, live happily ever after. - It was really only for eighteen years after, until his death, but it was my lifetime.
A couple of years beyond that lifetime, I moved to South Jersey with three of my children, to be closer to my sister and my mother. It seemed the thing to do. My husband and I had talked about this move for a long time. Just never seemed to go ahead with the plan. Life in New Jersey was very different than fast-paced New York. It was more relaxed. I was still in a sort of zombie-like state as a widow. My son was unhappy for a while, feeling he had been torn from his friends and the life he had known - although in truth, his friends had also left the home town to start their adult lives. My daughters thrived. We soon adjusted and slipped into the slower, easier way of life.
I like it here. I guess that's obvious, since I've stayed for thirty-two years now. It has to be obvious, even to me. But there are many things I dislike. There is the way-too-lay-back attitude of a large part of the population. The signs on the shop doors in the mall tell you that their hours are 10: to whatever. But If you arrive at 10:, they may or may not be open yet. When they straggle in they will tell you, "Oh, I didn't make it that early today. Something came up." If you call a contractor, he may - or may not - show up that day. "Well, the fishing was good." There are still an amazing number of locals who work all summer when the tourists are here, and then go on Workmens' Comp all winter. Between farming and fishing, it is only in very recent years that most of the kids do graduate from high school. Attitudes are changing. But slowly.
No, I don't like that attitude - especially when it extends to more important areas. Is it my imagination, or do doctors here not follow up on things as they do in New York or Pennsylvania? Is law enforcement just a little more lackadaisical? Well, that may or may not be so. (Pause here to look up that "l" word in the dictionary. That's what it says. A word I haven't used in a long, long time.)
But I like the quiet and slower pace, and the beauty around me. New development taking away so much farmland and forest makes me sad, but there is still much left. My mother and sister and many friends are gone now, but my own life is winding down and I find I have memories enough to get by on. My computer allows me to "travel" wherever I wish and to stay in contact with the rest of the world.
It's almost breakfast time. I should call a halt to this, find a title to fit if it's worth naming, and explore what my kitchen has to offer today. I may or may not decide to publish this. Not really very interesting. Oh well. Nothing else has presented itself. I always reassure myself with the thought that readers can always just hit "delete".
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Shadow Shot Sunday
Tracy, of Hey Harriet, is once again hosting Shadow Shot Sunday for us, and has many wonderful and fun shadows to show us. Follow the link to find them for yourself.
My shadows today are from my garden. Not too many flowers blooming yet, but these are a few of the early ones.
First, the day lilies are starting to open.
I do love Queen Anne's lace, and last fall I threw some dried flower heads into my garden.
It would seem that I had to get myself into the picture too.
And even the hanging basket had some pretty shadows.
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