Labels: death, Veronique

How is it even possible that five years have passed since we've spoken? Five years of not talking to you on the phone, not discussing boys and their drama, not telling you stories about the girls, not gossiping about our friends... Five years of missed Christmases and missed birthdays and missed anniversaries.
Five years.
Your pictures sit on my dresser and the other day Triniti was asking me about you and it broke my heart that she will not even know you. I pulled up this picture of you to show her that she had known you... That you had been there, held her, bought her clothes, watched her sleep, laughed when she got curly hair and loved her.
You loved her. I wish she could know you. I wish you could see how surprising she is. How she leaves everyone notes everywhere telling them she loves them.


You loved her. I wish you could see the amazing person she is becoming. The way she wants to give everyone everything and the way she laughs and how smart she is.


You loved her. I wish you could see how she is becoming a young woman. The way she is boy crazy and yet grounded, you would love to talk to her and hear how she is living and learning and growing.


You loved her. And she misses you more than words can say.

Labels: Amanda, death, Emilee, soul sisters, Triniti, Veronique

You'd have been twenty five today.

I miss you terribly.
Love,
~KHE

Labels: death, soul sisters, Veronique

On March 10th, 2007 my grandmother passed away. I was so very sad to have her no longer be in my life but I knew she was ready to go and I had so much time to say goodbye to her that while her passing made me sad, I was at peace with it.
I love my grandmother and I think of her often and fondly.
Those days that I was in Dallas while we all sat with her and held her hand and told her it was ok to leave and then after she had passed, while we sat together and reminisced and spent time as a family, I spent a lot of time thinking.
I wanted to consider how I felt about her being gone, about how I missed Veronique, about how death made me feel about The Universe and myself and the future and my kids. I needed to reflect. And because it was quiet and I could think there, I spent that time outside.
And everywhere, there were these beautiful trees.


I was in love with them. They were beautiful, regal, innocently and purely white and the thing that I will always associate with my grandmother passing. And not in a melancholy way but in a fond way.


When we got back from Dallas, I looked them up online and found that they were Bradford Pear trees. So I ordered some seeds online and tried to grow a couple. My attempt was a failed one, but I vowed that once I had a house where I could grow them in my yard, I would.

Then, last November, I saw these stunning trees with their amazingly dark red leaves and fell in love. Five months later and I am still asking you all to help me figure out what they are. When suddenly, I am sitting at my desk writing an email and it hits me. It's the same tree. It's my grandmother's tree.

It's funny how that works. How I would fall in love with the same tree twice and it looked so different both times.
I think that sometimes people pop in and say hello to you and maybe you don't even realize it.



I miss you...

Labels: death, my grandmother, The Universe, Veronique

Four years and some odd months ago, I packed up everything I owned and moved my daughters and myself into this tiny white house next door to a diesel mechanic's shop.
I was terrified.
I was twenty three and although this would be the second time I had lived completely alone, I was literally starting completely over.
New job, new house, new life.
Everything in the house was white.. The outside, the inside... everything. It was very symbolic of my clean slate. I remember it being very bright when I first moved in. I didn't own much and the little I did own didn't take up much room.
It made me stand up a little straighter to be there, to have all of the control over my life again.
That house was my first "home" with my family and it is where we live the longest since having become a family.
There were so many firsts there.

Triniti said her first words in that house.
I realized that I could love and not be loved in return.
Amanda liked her first boy.
Emilee chopped off all of her hair.

And I hated that house. It was too small, had an insane amount of issues, didn't heat or cool particularly well, didn't have a dishwasher... It was like the house was telling me that she would take care of me, but she wasn't about to pamper me. I had to grow, I had to learn, I had to tough some things out.
And the thing is, Mr. I said to me once when I was bitching about it, "Kate, what would you have given two years ago to have this place? To be on your own and taking care of your girls? To not be trapped or not have options?"
And I would have given anything.

I lost my best friend.
Triniti colored her first picture.
Amanda stayed home alone for the first time.
Emilee played catcher.

When I was with AZ and scared shitless about where my life was heading, when I was with NY and wanted so badly to not have to be any more... I begged The Universe to save me, to help me, to give me any way out. And I think that The Universe did.
The Universe offered me this tiny house, no bigger than a vacation cottage, and she said to me Kate, start your life.
And I really did.
Over those years, I learned so much about the person I had been,the person I wanted to become and the person I truly was.
I learned that I am responsible.
I learned that I am capable.
I learned that I can be scared but I don't back down.
I learned that I can get the things I want by working for them.
I learned how to be a mother alone.
I learned that I choose my family.
I learned who and what is important to me.
I learned that my life is up to me.

I laid in bed some nights absolutely terrified about how I would survive, how I would not fail my daughters. I laid in bed other nights so very thankful that I was surviving and being the best mother I could be. I went from questioning my ability to do anything to knowing I could do everything. For myself. On my own.

I set goals for myself in every aspect and followed through with them on my own.
Triniti was diagnosed with Asperger's.
Amanda wore her first bra.
Emilee taught us about reincarnation and auras.

I look back at all of the years I spent being unhappy, all of the years where I was in situations where I so desperately wanted out but didn't know how to run and I thank my lucky stars that I had that little house. That when I needed most to start over, I could. And not just start over, but start entirely. I began my life there. I became myself there.

Saturday when I was there packing up the last of my stuff and cleaning that little house, I started to see the house as I had all those years ago when I moved into it. It reminds me of an old hard woman inviting me in, telling me I can stay but that she isn't going to help me, I'm on my own. I was scared of that old woman four years ago, I didn't believe in myself or my judgement. But now, as I am leaving her, she is a friend... I started to remember the first night I laid in my bed there and listened to the new noises of my life. I remembered the first time I had to paint the walls because Triniti colored all over them. I remembered actually having enough room to set up a Christmas tree because I had no furniture. I remembered Veronique and I laying on my bed reading books about boys and laughing at the idea of actually following the advice in them. I remembered assembling furniture on Christmas Eve. I remembered getting us our first doggy and how much we all loved her. I remembered buying my first brand new washer and dryer and my first car. I remembered being in love for the first time since being independent. And how much it hurt when it didn't work out. I remembered all of these things and I realized that I was going to miss that house that I shared so much with.

I bought a brand new mattress.
Triniti grew her first curls...
Amanda went to her first concert...
Emilee taught herself to ride a bike...

I feel like that little house was my cocoon.
When I moved there, I was just a grubby little caterpillar.
And while I certainly don't feel like a glorious butterfly right now, I certainly feel like I can fly.

Labels: Amanda, Asperger's, Being a Chic, Being Mommy, Chica, community, death, dreams, Emilee, I actually had sex, my crazy life, My pathetic excuse for a love life, The Universe, Triniti, Veronique

As most of you know this Saturday will be the 26th of January. Three years ago on January 26th I lost my best friend, my soul sister. There was a tragic accident that stole her life so very prematurely and really and truly broke my heart for the very first time.
Most of the time, I can deal with this.
I can look at her beautiful pictures and remember fondly the times we spent together and ward off the anger and sadness and resentfulness that she was taken from me before I was ready. I can take it as it is and just miss her.
God how I miss her.
But today is the day that I close on my new house. Today is one of the biggest days ever for me. And not just because buying a house is "the single most important purchase you will make in your lifetime" or whatever but because of what this step actually means to me.
One thousand, six hundred and twenty nine days ago I was alone. I had no money, no job, three kids and no fucking idea what I was going to do. I was lucky that I was offered a job within days and that Tempest leant me $600 bucks otherwise I honestly don't know what I would have done. And the whole time I had Veronique by my side. She helped me pack my house and move all of my stuff into my new house. She helped me put it all away and then was consistantly there for me until she was gone. I mean the girl drove all the way down from Dallas so she wouldn't miss my daughters' first day of school. And then The Universe just took her away.
And now, whenever I accomplish something or something huge happens in my life I get so mad that i can't have her here to not only see it but also to experience it with me. I resent it so much and there isn't anyone to resent. I want her to be on the other side of one thousand, six hundred and twenty nine days with me.
Today I am going to buy my first house and I am so happy about it but if I could just have her here with me it would feel complete.

Labels: Being a Chic, Being Mommy, community, death, dreams, my crazy life, sisters, soul sisters, The Universe, Veronique

"There were no fuzzy kittens or dolphins in that stark white hospital room at Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center in downtown Boston. Just ominous-looking machines and monitors that beeped and whirred. Dave grasped my hand tightly as the technician squirted gel over my belly and rolled a cold wand across my roundness, gently punching it down here and there unexpectedly, trying to get the baby to move and provide a better view on the screen. I couldn't bear to see my baby in sharp, black-and-white relief -- What does a life-threatening spinal condition look like? -- so I stared at the technician, like a panicked airline passenger caught in a thunderstorm, taking her cues from the expression on a flight attendant's face. But the technician revealed nothing. She did not utter one syllable in 45 minutes."

Read more...

Labels: abortion, Being Mommy, death

I hate you.
Telling me the truth every morning wasn't fun enough for your sick & sadistic self... no you had to take it a step further and straight up lie to me.
And not in a holy cow [pun intended], I've lost weight!... no, you couldn't give me that! Instead, you have to tell me some OUTRAGEOUSLY low number that is obviously incorrect.
Like, "hey Kate, this is what you WOULD weigh, if you ever got off of your fat ass and worked out anymore."
I hate you.
I am planning to kill you when I get home and bury you in the dumpster.
Sincerely,
~Katehopeeden

Labels: Being a Chic, death, exercise, I'm a loser, self loathing

I'm going to be out of pocket until Sunday. I'm leaving this afternoon for Dallas and won't be able to check my email or anything until I get back home Sunday afternoon. The funeral is on Saturday and I have been trying for three days to throw together a suitable speech.
Not easy.
I'm hoping that a great big ol brain storm will develop during the next 48 hours and shower me with well written articulation.

And I couldn't be more jazzed about the twelve hours in the car this weekend with my kids, mother, brother and sister. My mother will be bitching pretty much the entire time we are driving about how she needs a cigraette, my sister will have her headphones on so loudly that she won't hear anyone talking to her which will just piss my mom off more and my brother will most likely either be snoring louder than a warthog in labor or complaining about how he wants to drive.



Everyone have a wonderful weekend :)

Labels: death, missing in action, my crazy life, my grandmother

My mother, uncle and aunts do not feel as though they are up to reading anything at my grandmother's memorial service (being held March 31st) and have asked if we, the grandchildren, might read in their stead.

A few things that will be read:

A Hopi Prayer by Mary E. Frye slightly changed
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet white doves in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there, I did not die.


Irish Funeral Prayer
Death is nothing at all.
It does not count.
I have only slipped away into the next room.
Everything remains as it was.
The old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged.
Whatever we were to each other, that we are still.
Call me by the old familiar name.
Speak of me in the easy way which you always used.
Put no sorrow in your tone.
Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was.
Let it be spoken without effort
Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was.
There is unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?
I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just around the corner.
All is well. Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost.
One brief moment and all will be as it was before.
How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting, when we meet again.

The latter, I will be reading.

Labels: death, my crazy life, my grandmother

The problem with writing for me sometimes is not being able to explain every thing in a clear and concise way and still get all the emotion I feel across. I want to convey every thing I see and feel without leaving out any details, but sometimes there is just too much. And in this case, there is too much.
How do I explain the way my heart jumped as the phone rang at four in the morning? How I heard my mother start to cry in the next room as she received the information that her 81 year old mother had just been taken to the emergency room again?
That was Friday morning.
I went to work and at eleven, my mother called and said we needed to get to Dallas as soon as possible. Six hours later, my mother, my sister, my daughters and I were headed north to Dallas.
How can I explain the mixed feelings in that vehicle? You could hear my mother's heart breaking as her rosary beads clicked together and she tried to imagine a world without her mother. You could hear the subdued hum of excitement from the back seats as my girls quietly think about seeing all of their cousins and getting to play outside and feed the horses.
How can I tell you that I wanted nothing more than to do 120mph when my phone rang at mid-night and my aunt said that we really needed to hurry because 'there isn't much time left"? Not for me. I could have gotten there too late and it would have been ok... but my mother? She had to be there. She had to say goodbye to her mom and while she wouldn't have said it, I had to make sure she did.
Shortly after that phone call, I pulled into my aunt's driveway and parked the car. My mother ran to her mother's bedside and I woke the girls up so I could bring them inside. I turned to see my cousin standing there and he proceeded to take Trin from my arms and usher the other girls so I could go immediately back to be with my mom and my mom's mom.
How can I even begin to tell you what it was like in that room?
The room that the girls and I slept in the last time we visited was transformed from it's usual guest room decor to a hospital room. A metal bed lay diagonally in the middle of the room now with an oxygen machine a few feet away sucking and hissing. And snugly encased and white sheets and a purple nightgown with a rosary draped in her hand and oxygen on her mouth and nose; my grandmother. The woman who I am named after.
But not her.
Not the woman who always painted her nails and put curlers in her red hair. Not the woman who, while several inches shorter than me, could instill fear in me with little more than a look should I decide to mouth off. Not the woman who made the best pork chops on the planet. Not the woman who called and told me it was ok that I was pregnant at sixteen because I could do it if I tried. Not the woman who let me and my sister wear her high heeled shoes. Not the woman who sent me gorgeous clothes for Christmas every year. Not the woman who claimed she would "murdalize" me if I didn't behave.
This wasn't her.
This was a body who's amazingly bright spirit had faded into something very very tired of being alive any longer. This was someone who had decided they didn't want to live any longer. The spark, the love, the joy that had once inhabited that body was little more than a fading glimmer.
It was as though she had just chosen to give it a little more time so we could all come and say our final farewells.
It wasn't what I expected. But I wasn't sure what to expect either.
I expected to cry and I did. I cried because I have such wonderful memories of her and because she was a beautiful and strong woman and I will miss her. I cried because it broke my heart to see someone as vibrant as she was like that. I cried because I love her.
And I cried because every time my mother broke down, it killed me.
But I also laughed.
I laughed as story after story was told. My mother's and her siblings took turns reminiscing about both of their parents and their childhoods. And the grandchildren that were there listened and did the same.
And while there was a cloud of solemnity encasing the house, it was very bittersweet and calm.
It occurred to me that I should be so lucky to leave this world that way. To be surrounded by dozens of people who love me and who wouldn't have existed without me. Of all the people who came and went, only two of them were not directly descended from my grandmother.
I held her hand and smoothed her hair and cried as wave after wave of memories hit me.
And when it was needed, I held someone else's hand and reassured them that everything would be ok.
I slept very little.
I played softball with the girls and uncles and cousin outside my grandmother's open window. I helped with dishes and fielded phone calls for those unable to take them. I kept kids out of everyone's hair and made sure to smile at them so they would know it was all ok. I took pictures and listened when someone needed to talk. And when I was blissfully unneeded, I made my way back to the bedroom to play with my grandmother's hair while she slept.
I was sitting on a foot stool next to her bed with her swollen right hand and rosary in mine. I played with her short gray hair, hoping it helped her relax, when she took a deep breath and exhaled and didn't breathe again.
A minute passed and her children were all there and I moved to the other side of the room so they could be near her.
A flurry of activity ensued as phone calls were made and time of death was called.
7:35p, March tenth, 2007
Passages were read and more phone calls.
A final farewell was said by my grandmother's bed around 11:00p as the men who were there to take her to the funeral home waited in the next room.
I have to tell you that people who've decided to make death their career are some of the nicest people I've ever met. I met three different hospice ladies, one nurse, and two men from the funeral home and ALL OF THEM were constantly asking if we needed anything, from a drink to a kleenex to a hug and one lady even sat down in the other room with the smaller children to color.
My grandmother will be cremated and all but some of her ashes will go into an urn. The few ashes left out will be separated into a few lockets for her children to where and the urn itself will go to Viksburg, Mississippi where it will be buried with my grandmother's parents.
When she was asked why she wanted to go home to Mississippi instead of to Tyler (where her husband is buried), she said she wanted her final resting place to be with her family because her husbands family wasn't ever very nice to her and she wasn't spending eternity with her in-laws.
She is at peace now and I am happy for her.
I will miss her but I am glad she doesn't have to suffer here any longer.

Labels: death, my grandmother

Yesterday, readers, the world lost a truly wonderful person and I lost a very close friend. There is not and never again will be anyone like Veronique Celis.

December 14, 1984 - January 26, 2005

Labels: death, Veronique