Fate has a way of taking over a life without warning. One never seems to know when destiny has arrived until it is too late to change courses. For some, that's a good thing. Fate scoops those lucky ones up, holds them close forever, steers the course and finally, fate delivers the chosen safely home to Jesus. Those of us who get off course are the lonely ones. Somewhere along the way we lose ourselves. We don't even remember who we were in the beginning, because we have let those around us take over. We just tend to wander aimlessly through time in a reactive state.

I have talked with people from all walks of life. I know the very successful, the people who could afford to fly the Concord when it was still in the skies, the CEO's of the Fortune 500 companies, lawyers in the most successful firms, Hollywood directors, political giants and I also know the people who wander the streets and those who live in mental institutions most of their lives. I am most comfortable with the latter, perhaps because I could have been a part of that world. It would be appropriate to say "but for the grace of God," but I don't believe God's grace dictates tragic lives for some and happiness for others. It's not God's fault some of us wander away. When we lose ourselves in the process of living, we don't have a lot of survival choices left. You can go with the emotional pain and let someone somewhere stamp your file with a label and live amongst the downtrodden. Or you numb your feelings with alcohol and drink yourself into oblivion. Or you can become a workaholic and your job becomes your lover.

It is very hard to tell whether the mentally ill, the alcoholics or the workaholics are the saddest. From the outside looking in, the mentally ill laugh, eat and believe it or not, most are a lot more comfortable hiding behind the walls of crazy than trying to deal with the harsh expectations of the world around them. They may be the most sensitive. "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for they shall inherit the earth," God said. There are a million interpretations for that, but I believe it means these gentle loving people who roam the streets of America and cause heads to turn...some to stare at them and others to look away, are God's people. The emotional pain is so severe and the soul is just too gentle to fight anymore.

On the other hand, the workaholics use their job to keep the mind busy. A busy mind doesn't have time to think about what has been lost along the way. If you don't take the time to think about it, you can kid yourself into believing it never existed in the first place. We just go about our day meeting every responsibility in such a way it becomes a need for us. We are going to be the best at everything. We don't feel anymore. We become robotic in nature. We can meet all of the expectations of others. We no longer have control of our destiny, because we don't even exist as an individual. We belong to others. We are owned by our businesses, our employees, our families, the public and by all who for some reason, are drawn to us. We look real, and we can even convince ourselves we are living, but in reality, our life is an illusion. You have to look deep into the eyes to see the souls of these people.

I always tell my employees "if it is not in writing, it doesn't exist." Rumors fly in the work place. Employees like to report on each other, but if an employee isn't willing to put their concerns in writing then it may not be true. Counselors work with patients everyday but when the state comes in to check on our progress, if the work isn't noted in writing, the state doesn't consider it. In a mental health facility, the written word is critical to clear communication. That's how I came about telling my counselors that they must put everything in writing. I used to believe if there wasn't a written record of a situation, it might as well not have happened. Now I know pain can still exist even though one thinks they have erased an experience from their mind years ago. Brains, like computers, have a way of just hiding what we think we have deleted.

A "meant to be" morning.....

There are some days when you know at the end of the day it was meant to be even if you don't know why yet. My morning was going by so swiftly on July 9, 2010 and from the moment I opened my eyes, I was trying to figure out a way to get out of a walk at the lake with one of my very best friends. Jerry was going to go with her husband, Starr in the helicopter at 8 AM, so I gently tapped him on the shoulder and said.. "It's morning, Papa." When our 2 year old granddaugher stays overnight with us, she wakes up first. She quietly and patiently waits for one of us to open our eyes, and the moment that happens she softly says "It's morning, Nana" or "It's morning, Papa." We both love the way she says it but most of all, we love it that she is so joyful in greeting each new day. This morning, however, I went back to sleep and soon, it was "Papa" telling me that morning had arrived. I made a quick decision to just stay in bed for as long as possible and started thinking of several excuses I could give Joan as to why I could not go with her on our weekly walk.

Jerry took the bulldogs out and the next sound I heard was the shower. I knew I couldn't lay in bed and not be there to see him out the door and wish him a fun time with his best friend, Starr. As much as I hated to do it, I got up and went into the closet to grab a robe. I decided I didn't want to wear a robe and instead pulled a knit vest over my pajama top believing it would be enough to stave off the cool San Diego morning. When I came downstairs I realized I did not prepare the coffee pot the prior evening, so there was no coffee waiting for me to arrive. I hate it when I forget to make the coffee. I quickly made a pot of coffee and by this time, it was time for Jerry to leave. We kissed, said good bye and I love you to each other, and he left.

By this time, my coffee was done, so I poured myself a cup and sit down to carry out my morning routine after peeking at the calendar I keep on the refrigerator that reminds me of my daily responsibilities. I check the bank accounts daily to make sure nothing strange is going on with them. Then I check my email to see if anything needs immediate attention. Finally, I check out my Facebook messages and usually watch Rachael to see what she is cooking followed by the View, which I call the liberal bitches' show. 11 AM becomes my signal to take a shower and take care of whatever has to be done on any given day. I love it when husband goes flying and I can get a lot more accomplished without interruption. It is unusual for him to go flying on the same day I schedule for my morning walk with Joan. I hope that doesn't become a habit, because it will mean the bulldogs have to be left in their big cage outside instead of having the comfort of air conditioning. We have had a very cool spring/summer this year setting low temperature records, so fortunately, it isn't that big of a deal to leave them outside for a few hours now. When the temperatures rise, I may have to change my schedule.

This would be my third week of walking every Friday with Joan, one of my very best friends in San Diego. I had asked her if she would help me get into better shape by walking with me. My purpose is to make sure I maintain the good health I have and to improve on my endurance, so that I can be sure to keep up with Jerry as his needs increase over the next few years. Jerry has FTD and Alzheimer's. Fortunately for us, his symptoms of the FTD are well controlled by medication for now and the Alzheimer's is an early diagnosis, so the symptoms are in the very beginning stages. We can still enjoy our life together, but I am finding that I have more responsibilities to meet these days as I pick up more of his former duties. Walking is a great form of countering depression, and if at all possible, I prefer to get reacquainted with nature to combat depression when at all possible.

The first 17 years of my life...or at least the first fifteen years of my life were spent with nature serving as my best friend. Growing up in such a remote area with no other children close by meant that my entertainment was all that nature had to offer on a farm near a river and woods in Southern Illinois. Joan has kept her relationship with nature all of her life. She hikes, skis, plays tennis and always makes the outdoors a part of her activities throughout the year. I also love spending time with Joan and can share just about anything on my mind with her. I knew it would take a powerful motivator to get me out of my prefer to be a hermit lifestyle that I have been developing for the past five years. After Jerry's diagnosis, I really pulled the covers over my head and tried to hide from the world. It was time to move forward, and there was no way I would stand Joan up if I had a date with her.

When I arrived at her house, she was on the phone and a house guest had just arisen. She said, "Hi, I am Lukie." I liked her right away. She is just one of those people that you feel is comfortable with herself and doesn't have any BS to try and pass off to you. When Joan asked her what she was going to do for the day, she said she thought she would hang out with her sister. I then realized she didn't have any plans, so it would be fun to have her join us. It is quite out of character for me to ask her to join us, because I am most often reserved with strangers but I encouraged her to come along with us. I was watching Joan to see if she would mind and I could tell that she was very happy to have her take our walk with us. It was a fit. Joan drove us to Lake Murray, and it was a beautiful day for walking as evidenced by the number of people already walking and biking around the lake.

I soon learned that Lukie had lost a 16 year old daughter four years before in a tragic car accident and that was followed only a few months later by the loss of her husband in a motorcycle accident. She had since remarried while trying to survive her deep emotional pain and was starting to move forward with her new husband when our country's terrible economic state tooks its toll on their family. He was laid off. Lukie had traveled a lot of challenging roads in the past four years of her life. I knew she had to be filled with wisdom as a result of her experiences. She, Joan and I talked and walked and shared our feelings about life and surviving challenges. Soon I had walked further than we had ever walked before and decided since I had to walk back, we should probably turn around. In some ways, I just wanted to continue and walk around the whole lake that morning. I wanted to talk forever with my delightful companions. Joanie, Lukie and I went to D Z Aikens where we all ordered the lox lunch plate and then returned to Joan's where I picked up my car and returned home.

I was reminded that conversation will be an important part of my life as I go forward with Jerry and hold his hand while he slowly slips away from us. I can't hide behind Facebook and believe that is the way for me to communicate. Jerry can't carry on long conversations with me anymore, and that has been one of the most enjoyable parts of our relationship together. We have always loved to share information, hold long discussions on just about any subject, try to convince the other of a given position on any topic, and expound upon "what if we did this or that." I guess you could say we talked for hours about what is happening in our lives, what is happening in others' lives, and what could happen in our life together. Ironically, Jerry was always concerned about my health. We both thought he was quite healthy.

I realized while walking at the lake that Nature is going to be one of my newest best friends. Nature is going to help me help Jerry, because walking is good for Alzheimer's patients in the beginning stages. Nature is going to be an effective anti depressant for me as long as possible. Nature is a healer. I knew that 50 years ago when I was fifteen. Why did I ever abandon Nature? Thanks to Joan who answered my request to walk with me and to Lukie a woman who is just passing through my life for a couple of hours...I am reminded that one should never lose the essence of who they are no matter how much they love another nor how busy one's life may become. Jerry would never have kept me from my love of Nature. I just never told him how important it was for me to make it a part of my daily life. Yeah...some days are just meant to happen.

A springtime ago....

As much as I love spring in California, my fondest memories of this special season are embedded in the days of my childhood. I grew up on a farm in a remote area of Southern Illinois. It seems that one day we would be layered in winter clothing bracing ourselves against a cold north wind and suddenly, all the people, plants and creatures of the world were waking up together. It was time to prepare for summer.

My first goal was to get a new dress and shoes for Easter Sunday. Sometimes I didn't get a brand new dress, but I always got new shoes. I knew my mother would pick out white sandals, and I couldn't wait to go shopping for them. It was fun to go to church on Easter Sunday, because everyone came that day...even those who usually missed church on regular Sundays. Everyone seemed happy and even the preacher's message was happy as it was all about being born again and the rising of Jesus. A pleasant change from the hell's fire and damnation sermons heard during the revivals at our little country church.

My second goal was to get my mother's permission to go barefoot. She would always tell me I had to wait until the earth warmed up. I loved the feeling of warm grass between my toes when she finally gave her approval. On rainy days, I could even walk in mud puddles and not have to worry about wearing my rubber boots over shoes. My shoes were cast aside only to be worn again to church and sometimes for short trips into a little country store five miles away.

The sunshine of spring seemed to bring hope to the whole community. Farmers hoped for a good crop season. Those who were ill hoped sitting in the sun would make them feel better, and the families of those at death's door hoped they would make it through another summer. I simply wanted to make the long hot summer days last forever. I knew that before the summer was over, we would hunt mushrooms in the woods nearby and pick plump juicy blackberries off the blackberry bushes. Soon my dad would start working on the garden, and we would all join in to help. Since I was the baby, I always got the easy assignments sometimes much to my frustration. I wanted to plant and hoe and do everything that my daddy did in the garden. He always made sure to dig some holes for me to plant as he hovered over me. Soon I would be walking through the garden grazing as I picked fresh tomatoes off the vine and if noone was looking, I would grab a baby ear of corn and sweet peas.

The wild life came out of their winter hiding places in the springtime and seemed to always have a new family in tow. I especially loved watching baby rabbits hop across the freshly plowed fields. Sometimes I would chase them. Occasionally, my brother would find a nest of baby rabbits when he was helping my dad farm. He would bring them home to me, so I would become preoccupied with trying to keep them alive for the summer. Once he actually uncovered a fox den. That created a lot of excitement for sure.

There was always something going on on the farm to entertain me, although we didn't have a television and most of the books I owned I had read several times. I loved it when we would get new comic books. Sometimes the neighbor lady stopped by on her way to town to see if Mother wanted anything. If she invited me along, I usually ended up with bubble gum or an ice cream cone. If I was real lucky, I could talk my parents into driving me into town on Saturday nights to watch a cowboy movie projected onto the side of a building. Hop a Long Cassidy and Roy Rogers were two of my favorite movie stars. I never imagined that someday I would move so far away from home and would visit the Roy Roger's museum. I could spend an hour lying on the ground watching ants build a mound, granddaddy long legs moving about or a butterfly flittering from plant to plant. I would search for baby kittens if a Mama cat came by, because I knew they were hidden somewhere nearby. There wasn't a tree too tall to climb if there was a bird's nest in it. I would peer into the nest to see if there were eggs. I remember being told not to touch the eggs, because the Mama bird might abandon the nest. Sometimes the temptation was too much, and I would bring the nest down to see if they would hatch without the mother bird. Soon Mother would go to town and pick up some baby chicks. I loved watching and listening to them until they started to get feathers. When the feathers came, I knew they would soon be on the dinner table.

Sometimes on really hot days my mother would make a sandwich for me, put some ice tea in a thermos and I would sit under a tree reading a book while eating my lunch. Often I could be found lying down in the warm grass next to my grandmother's Easter flowers while watching the fluffy clouds float across the sky. When my brother was around, we would try to identify the images. Some looked like animals and some looked like people's faces. Sometimes I just lay there imagining a future...a happy future.

Oh yeah...those were special times. Now as springtime arrives in San Diego, it is much the same as it was then. Well, there is one difference. Then I was dreaming about my future. Today I am pondering my past. And I am hoping for more time and long summer days with my husband.

Thinking about it....

I awoke at 3:15 A.M., according to my watch, but I remembered that it was 4:15 A.M. due to the time change which happened long after I had gone to sleep. I prayed for my children, looked at the TV to see if anything was worthy of breaking news, touched my foot to my husband's leg and went back to sleep. After thirty five years of sleeping with this man, I still felt the need to touch him while sleeping. I will place my hand on his arm, or foot to his foot and on cool nights, I sometimes snuggle next to him. I refuse to think about the fact that someday he will not be there. He has FTD and Alzheimer's Disease.

Should I let my mind wander in that dreadful direction in the middle of the night, I would be lying there awake when dawn arrives. I don't want to think about it then, because I think about it all day long. Make the morning coffee, think about it. Take the bulldogs out, think about it. Pay a few bills, think about it. Drive to the store, think about it. Take phone calls, while thinking about it.

In seven more days, springtime will arrive in California. Tomorrow it is supposed to be in the 80's. Still thinking about it. How many more springtimes will we share together? Will he know me next year?

Time to make the morning coffee, thinking about it. I glance out the kitchen window, take a second look and then my full attention is given to a creature slinking across my driveway. A shocker for sure. It is a peacock, and there is another one. How did that happen? I run upstairs to wake my husband, so he can see them before they leave. He is excited and gets up to check them out. In the meantime, I run for the camera and go outside to take photos of our new uninvited but welcome guests. We had fun with the peacocks especially when we found there were four of them. The bulldogs definitely feel they don't need this kind of fun, but Jerry and I, for a little while, stopped thinking about it.

When someone officially hands you a diagnosis of a terminal disease, your life changes immediately. Pep talks from loved ones don't work very well when you have a terminal brain disease. The hope that one can have even with cancer isn't present for us now. Instead, we try to focus on our blessings and the time we have now. We express our love for each other a lot these days. We laugh together. We also spend time discussing what will happen to me afterwards. He wants me to eat, drink and be merry. I can't imagine much after us, because it has been about us for most of my life.

This week we see another neurologist. Jerry has hand and arm tremors now. He and I are both proud when he passes the silly little test given as a preliminary check for Alzheimer's. He can pass it with flying colors. They always marvel at that, as if he had just won the Indy 500. But we know and even without the sophisticated PET scan results and psychological testing, we know. Our lives are changing...and I live for those very brief moments when I am not thinking about it.

Thinking about it....