The following is an excerpt of an interview with Jes.se Ja.mes discussing his divorce from San.dra Bul.lock:
I think it's very sad that you adopted Louis together and now you have nothing to do with him.
Yep, it is kind of sad.
If he was your biological child I don't think that would happen.
That's true.
I'm not sure who is more disgusting: Jes.se or the interviewer.
Just goes to show that Hollywood is still severly out-of-touch and certain members believe children are accessories.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Orphaned and Eldered at 40
I stumbled across an article today that discussed adults becoming orphans when their parents die. The author indicated that it was one thing to lose her father... but when her mother passed away some years later it was much more difficult to handle than she originally anticipated. That's how I feel, only I've added my grandmother into the mix as well.
I'm the last of the line. Yes, I have a sister - but she is my half sister who still has a living father and another whole family to rely upon. I am now the oldest in my line. And although I am 40, I feel too young for this particular role. I've got too many questions that still need answering, too many lessons that need to be learned, and (hopefully) too many years ahead of me to be here alone. (Yes, yes, I have my sister, my husband, my daughter... but you know what I am talking about.)
I went home a couple of weeks ago to go through not only my mother's personal belongings, but also through my grandmother's. In two days I dug through two entirely different houses of women I deeply loved. It was my job to pull out the things that meant the most to me so I could keep them. I cannot describe the difficult decisions that had to be made. I sat in those homes knowing full well that it may be the last time I was ever in them. My grandmother lived in her house for my entire life, and now I may never step foot in it again because it will be sold. My mother and I had a rocky relationship at times due to her lifelong companion who despised me. Through his grief I have been welcomed back into their home - but who knows how long that will last, so I could have easily experienced my last trip to her house also.
I came home from that trip with photos, letters, books, and quilts. I also came home with more questions than answers, and that, perhaps, is what bothers me the most. Who can tell me more about my paternal great-grandmother who may be a family link to my best friend from high school? Who will tell me about the love-letter my father wrote to my mother after they were divorced (and explain why my mother saved it for 37 years)? Who will tell me how to make family recipes that were not written down? Who will explain the people in the photographs? You see, I - me alone - am the last of the line yet the beginning of the line. I am now the one that subsequent generations will come to in order to have questions answered. My fear is that I may not have the answers because I was thrust into this position before it was time.
I feel an incredible emptiness that I fear few people can understand. I had barely come to terms with my father dying, and then my mom dies exactly six months later. While reeling from that loss, my grandmother dies in the same month. My three remaining living elders that were a direct familial connection were taken seemingly at once. There was too much to do in order for me to grieve... I had a daughter to take care of, a house to clean, a job to go to, a wife to be. I still wonder if this has all been a dream and I'm about to wake up. You see, I don't think it has really sunk in yet. I feel like it is just under the surface and I am doing everything I can to keep it submerged, allthewhile feeling like I'm about to explode. But I know I won't... explode that is. I can't. Because the elder in the family always maintains her cool. And now that elder is me. Orphaned, and eldered, at 40.
I'm the last of the line. Yes, I have a sister - but she is my half sister who still has a living father and another whole family to rely upon. I am now the oldest in my line. And although I am 40, I feel too young for this particular role. I've got too many questions that still need answering, too many lessons that need to be learned, and (hopefully) too many years ahead of me to be here alone. (Yes, yes, I have my sister, my husband, my daughter... but you know what I am talking about.)
I went home a couple of weeks ago to go through not only my mother's personal belongings, but also through my grandmother's. In two days I dug through two entirely different houses of women I deeply loved. It was my job to pull out the things that meant the most to me so I could keep them. I cannot describe the difficult decisions that had to be made. I sat in those homes knowing full well that it may be the last time I was ever in them. My grandmother lived in her house for my entire life, and now I may never step foot in it again because it will be sold. My mother and I had a rocky relationship at times due to her lifelong companion who despised me. Through his grief I have been welcomed back into their home - but who knows how long that will last, so I could have easily experienced my last trip to her house also.
I came home from that trip with photos, letters, books, and quilts. I also came home with more questions than answers, and that, perhaps, is what bothers me the most. Who can tell me more about my paternal great-grandmother who may be a family link to my best friend from high school? Who will tell me about the love-letter my father wrote to my mother after they were divorced (and explain why my mother saved it for 37 years)? Who will tell me how to make family recipes that were not written down? Who will explain the people in the photographs? You see, I - me alone - am the last of the line yet the beginning of the line. I am now the one that subsequent generations will come to in order to have questions answered. My fear is that I may not have the answers because I was thrust into this position before it was time.
I feel an incredible emptiness that I fear few people can understand. I had barely come to terms with my father dying, and then my mom dies exactly six months later. While reeling from that loss, my grandmother dies in the same month. My three remaining living elders that were a direct familial connection were taken seemingly at once. There was too much to do in order for me to grieve... I had a daughter to take care of, a house to clean, a job to go to, a wife to be. I still wonder if this has all been a dream and I'm about to wake up. You see, I don't think it has really sunk in yet. I feel like it is just under the surface and I am doing everything I can to keep it submerged, allthewhile feeling like I'm about to explode. But I know I won't... explode that is. I can't. Because the elder in the family always maintains her cool. And now that elder is me. Orphaned, and eldered, at 40.
Monday, April 11, 2011
The Worst Seven Months...
The last seven months have been the worst I have ever experienced in my life. September 4, 2010: My father died. March 4, 2011: My mother died. March 30, 2011: My grandmother died. Within seven months, almost my whole family was wiped out. And here's the eerie thing about it... my mom and dad died exactly six months apart, within minutes of each other. They both died on the 4th day of the month, in their 70th year, at approximately 7:30 a.m.** Yeah, you can only imagine what my 70th year is going to be like for me. And my grandmother that passed? See the post below for her beautiful face. She was my father's mother, and lived to 96. Please please please let me have inherited her genes. Oh, and in the middle of those seven months -- I turned 40. Yay me. I'm hoping to get back to blogging. I've missed it. But as you can see, I've been busy with not-so-fun things. I hope to have happier musings soon. ** This would seem "understandable" if they were still married, however, they had been divorced for approximately 38 years when they died.
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