Today is my brother Joshua's birthday. He would've been 31. He passed away February 13th, 1999 at 19 years old. I miss him. I spoke of him briefly in a previous blog. Today, I pay tribute to the life of Josh.
I barely remember my step-mother being pregnant. August 25th, 1979 Josh became the 3rd born of my fathers children. I was 7 years old. My brother Stephen and I didn't live with our father, we lived with our mother. The following summer when Stephen and I visited we met Joshua for the first time. Only thing I remember about him that summer was him having an asthma attack.
We seen Joshua during the summers over the next few years. There are a few things I can recall about him during those visits. Joshua absolutely loved the way dad would make his stuff animals come alive. Of'course not literally but dad was very animated and had voices for each of them. Josh would crack up laughing. I thought it was funny because I knew it was really just dad. One day Josh was pointing out the living window talking about an airplane. None of us were able to see it. We all looked and looked over the open sky, nothing. Then there it was, a speck barely visible. Josh was blessed with extraordinary vision.
I only seen Joshua one more time after those first few summers. I don't know how old I was but I was with my dad and we went to L.A. to see Josh. I also met my brother Ryan for the first time. He was born when Josh was like 4 or 5. I'm not really sure. Josh was very thin. He smiled a lot and said weird things like little brothers do.
I was pregnant with my second child the next time I seen Josh. He was about 14 or so. Again he smiled a lot. I now lived about an hour from dad and had the opportunity to see Josh more frequently. He liked to ask things like 'For how much money would you wipe the fattest rich guy in the worlds ass for?'. He was certainly unique. He laughed even when no one else was laughing.
One day Josh wanted to come visit us and decided to ride his bike from Lodi to Fairfield over an hour away. Dad called and said was on his way and riding his bike. Apparently he wanted to do this. I thought he was crazy. The shortest route was down Highway 12 which only had 2 lanes was also curvy and hilly. It was getting late. I was worried. When my husband got home from work I sent him to go find him. He was amazed by how far Josh had come.
When he was 16 he came to live with my husband (at the time) and I for the school year. I felt special when he asked if I would make a pot of my spaghetti for a school function. When he asked us to help him create a mohawk we did. We used knox gelatin as glue and kool-aid for color. He wore ripped jeans, t-shirts and a chain on his side. He liked to mosh and was given the nickname 'Josher Mosher'. It was truly an experience getting to know my brother. I enjoyed his attitude and sense of humor.
Joshua loved pranks. If someone else pulled a prank on him he didn't mind. He would be smiling mischievously and thinking up ways to get you back. So, on one of dads visits we decided to see if we could get over on Josh. It wasn't always easy to pull the eyes over his eyes but we went for it. Dad and I scraped of the ex-lax sign on a bunch of ex-lax. When Josh got home I told him I had some Swiss chocolate that my friend had given me. He took a big chunk and ate it up. He loved it. He then said he and his friend were going to go for a walk. Dad and I looked at each other. Uh oh. Josh called not long after dad left saying saying he needed to crap really bad. My husband wasn't home so Josh had to walk. Poor Josh had to walk several miles home. He said he had been holding it. I said nothing at the time. Dad and I told him later. He felt so proud that he held his crap for so long. He said he would get us back.
After my ex-husband and I separated I moved in with dad. Josh and I hung out quite a bit. Nearly a year later he died. I was devastated. I had lost a brother, a friend, a son. I occasionally have dreams of Josh. The dreams always make me smile. Josh you will forever be in my heart. I love and miss you very much. One day we will laugh together again. Happy Birthday!
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
A Duct Tape Tale
I was 28 years old. I had my drivers license a little over a year (yes, I was a late bloomer) and had bought my first car five months prior. A white, 4 door 1984 Pontiac Sunbird. No radio, no air-conditioning or heat. Perfect for a single mom and not much money.
The day was the typical very hot mid August day. It was my day to do urine collection at work, so I wore overalls and a t-shirt. I was not about to dress professionally with the possibility of someones urine splattering me. My luck, that's exactly what would have happened had I not thought ahead. My eight hour day began at 5:30 am and ended at 2pm. Between the heat and the long day, when it was time to clock out I was exhausted.
My first stop was always to pick my son up from the babysitters and then home. I headed south alongside the I-5 frontage road. About a mile into my trip my vehicle began to shake. I pulled over. I went all around the car for signs of a flat. I seen nothing. I thought 'That's strange'.
I got back in the car. Low behold, the shaking began again. Only now it was so violent I couldn't see out the window. I pulled over, exited the vehicle and repeated the same investigation. This time I found the right rear tire had about a foot and half long piece of tread hanging there. Hmmm....I had absolutely no clue what to do. So, I opened the trunk to look for a spare tire. I found it under the trunk bedding. I knew nothing about cars or changing a tire. As I attempted to retrieve the jack it would not budge. I tried and tried, still wouldn't budge. So I decided to drive real slow to the nearest gas station about a mile or so away.
The ride to the gas station seemed to take forever at under 5 miles per hour. At last I arrived at the station. A pay phone. Yay! Wouldn't you know, no one was available. I called the sitter to let her know I was running late and would be there as soon as I could. Now what? What was I suppose to do? I could cut the tread off. I went inside and asked the attendant for a utility knife. Looking a little puzzled, I figured I should explain. So I did. I was thinking 'How about offering buddy?'. No such luck. I wondered if I had been in my normal work clothes if it would have been different. Didn't really matter, I was used to trying to figure things out on my own most of the time.
To my dismay, the utility knife was not working. I noticed the tread had what looked like small fibers of steel or something through it. A deep breath. I needed a new idea. The light went on! Duct tape! Duct tape is used for everything, if it can keep windows together and all the miscellaneous things of heard of, why not my tire? I went back inside to ask the, non-helpful, attendant for duct tape. I wasn't going to explain anything this time. I set out to make my tire somewhat whole again and in the end, felt I had conducted a miracle.
On the road again. The car wasn't shaking. It was running smooth. What a genius I am. Girl or not, I was capable of taking on the world. See, I don't need a man. Little did I know I was about to eat the words I was just thinking. Suddenly, without warning, the shaking started. It got worse until I finally had to pull over one more time. At least this time I was on a main road. The duct tape had melted from the hot pavement. I opened the trunk and struggled with the jack, to no avail. Ten minutes or so went by and a man from animal control pulled over. He called the city police then left.
A few minutes had gone by when a female officer pulled up behind me. She showed me that the jack was bolted down. She unscrewed the nuts and out came the jack. What a genius I was not. She taught me how to change the tire. I left feeling relieved but at the bottom of the class and at the top all at the same time. I went straight to the used tire shop. When they took my duct taped tire out of the trunk the two men were laughing hysterically.
The day was the typical very hot mid August day. It was my day to do urine collection at work, so I wore overalls and a t-shirt. I was not about to dress professionally with the possibility of someones urine splattering me. My luck, that's exactly what would have happened had I not thought ahead. My eight hour day began at 5:30 am and ended at 2pm. Between the heat and the long day, when it was time to clock out I was exhausted.
My first stop was always to pick my son up from the babysitters and then home. I headed south alongside the I-5 frontage road. About a mile into my trip my vehicle began to shake. I pulled over. I went all around the car for signs of a flat. I seen nothing. I thought 'That's strange'.
I got back in the car. Low behold, the shaking began again. Only now it was so violent I couldn't see out the window. I pulled over, exited the vehicle and repeated the same investigation. This time I found the right rear tire had about a foot and half long piece of tread hanging there. Hmmm....I had absolutely no clue what to do. So, I opened the trunk to look for a spare tire. I found it under the trunk bedding. I knew nothing about cars or changing a tire. As I attempted to retrieve the jack it would not budge. I tried and tried, still wouldn't budge. So I decided to drive real slow to the nearest gas station about a mile or so away.
The ride to the gas station seemed to take forever at under 5 miles per hour. At last I arrived at the station. A pay phone. Yay! Wouldn't you know, no one was available. I called the sitter to let her know I was running late and would be there as soon as I could. Now what? What was I suppose to do? I could cut the tread off. I went inside and asked the attendant for a utility knife. Looking a little puzzled, I figured I should explain. So I did. I was thinking 'How about offering buddy?'. No such luck. I wondered if I had been in my normal work clothes if it would have been different. Didn't really matter, I was used to trying to figure things out on my own most of the time.
To my dismay, the utility knife was not working. I noticed the tread had what looked like small fibers of steel or something through it. A deep breath. I needed a new idea. The light went on! Duct tape! Duct tape is used for everything, if it can keep windows together and all the miscellaneous things of heard of, why not my tire? I went back inside to ask the, non-helpful, attendant for duct tape. I wasn't going to explain anything this time. I set out to make my tire somewhat whole again and in the end, felt I had conducted a miracle.
On the road again. The car wasn't shaking. It was running smooth. What a genius I am. Girl or not, I was capable of taking on the world. See, I don't need a man. Little did I know I was about to eat the words I was just thinking. Suddenly, without warning, the shaking started. It got worse until I finally had to pull over one more time. At least this time I was on a main road. The duct tape had melted from the hot pavement. I opened the trunk and struggled with the jack, to no avail. Ten minutes or so went by and a man from animal control pulled over. He called the city police then left.
A few minutes had gone by when a female officer pulled up behind me. She showed me that the jack was bolted down. She unscrewed the nuts and out came the jack. What a genius I was not. She taught me how to change the tire. I left feeling relieved but at the bottom of the class and at the top all at the same time. I went straight to the used tire shop. When they took my duct taped tire out of the trunk the two men were laughing hysterically.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Surrounded by death
It seems my whole life I have been surrounded by death. My earliest memory regarding death was of my great grandmother shortly before she died. I remember looking at her as she lay there during her last days. (End of memory).
In 3rd grade I had a crush on this boy named Brian who was hit and killed by this other boys mother. He was crossing the road from the dirt lot and the other boys mom came around the corner fast and hit him. His helmet wasn't on properly and the underneath of the pick up caught his neck and dragged him. I was crushed.
When I was 10 my evil first step father was drunk one night and was asking my mom for the keys to the car and she wouldn't give them to him. We were in the living room. He went outside, came back in and asked her again. She refused. He pulled a small gun out of his pocket and shot at my mother. I went running out of the house screaming for someone to help. He came beside me in the car and told me to get in the house. I told him I hated him and I wished he was dead. My mother and I went across the street to some friends' house. They called the police. I was in there room looking out the window from my friends house to my house, which was caddy corner. I seen police cars. Then I seen my step father drive through real fast. A bit later the police showed up at my friends house. They were asking my mom about what he was wearing. They told her they found him dead outside the car. He had committed suicide.
At 13 years old I woke up to my mom and 2nd step father telling me that my Uncle Steve had died. He was in a car accident and was thrown from the window.
When I was 16 I was planning to go to a party with this male friend. Earlier in the day I was arrested and taken to Juvenile Hall. Two weeks later I received a letter that he was killed the night of the party. He was driving drunk with another friend who he liked. He flipped the car they were thrown from the vehicle. He landed on his head and was killed instantly. She broke her back and both legs.
At 26, my brother Josh died. This was the worst I'd encountered thus far. He called several days prior to his death and left a message for me to call because he might not get to talk to me again. My roommate gave me the message two days later. I wish I had called him. The following day during my lunch I walked over to Taco Bell. Usually I would eat my lunch in peace and go back to work. I felt a need to call my dad. There was a payphone outside Taco Bell so I called. His wife answered and asked if I was at home. I said no I'm on lunch. She said well we need to see you, she said. I knew something was wrong. I asked her who died. Never in a million years did I think it would be one of my siblings. Maybe a grand parent or other relative.
Three years later my grandma Cooney was in the hospital. She was in a coma or something when I got there. The first night I found out she was there I stayed the night and everyday after that I would drive 75 miles to go see her. On her birthday she woke up! We were there with her. She smiled. I was so grateful to get those last kisses and for her to call me dollie. My grandmother and I had gotten closer over the 2 years previous. She went back into a coma. Four days later, on grandpa's birthday, my grandfather, father, aunties, cousin Nikki and I were there praying. We sang songs to her. We held hands around her. There were a lot of tears. My heart ached so much every time I looked at my grandpa. Knowing he was loosing the woman he'd been with for over 50 years. A few drops of rain hit the window of her room. Shortly there after she began to breathe different. I leaned to her ear and told her to fly away home. A few breaths later she was gone. It was the first time I had seen some one die.
A week or so later was her funeral. That night when I was fast asleep in bed, I woke up to a loud noise. I jumped out of bed, grabbed my cordless and went out the front door of my apartment. Laid there before me was my neighbors son. There were other people outside. I went to his side, he wasn't moving. I loudly asked what happened. No one responded to me. I dialed 911. I again asked what happened. I was told he was shot and was it. I asked someone to get a blanket because it was cold. No one wanted to help. This was very sad to me. The paramedics instructed me to check for blood without moving. I did. I seen none. I bent down to ask his name as they asked. He wasn't speaking, he made only gurgling noises. A young woman said his names Raymond. I then became conscience of her presence and that of his fathers about 30 feet away crying. He was an old hispanic man who spoke no english. I didn't know what to do so I started tell this young man to hang in there. The young woman suddenly became hysterical as the sirens of the ambulance and police were coming. She needed to hide. I told her to go into my apartment. I didn't know why she needed to hide nor did I even think about why I was letting this person I didn't know into my apartment. But she needed to just shut up. This wasn't about her. He died.
A few days ago my husband found out his Uncle he loves so much has 2weeks to 2 months to live. He is torn apart. I rarely see him cry. He has never really had anyone close to him die. I feel sad for him and ask God to give him strength through this. My husband is a very strong man but this is new territory for him. I hope he will be okay.
Over the years there were other relatives, people I went to school with, clients who past away. The ones I've written about were the ones that had the biggest impact on my life. Death isn't unfamiliar to my life. I am writing this today because I have a fear of dying. June 23 this year I had a stroke. I'm only 38 years old. Death has been very real over the years but not until now had it ever been a possible reality for myself. I have decided to begin doing the things I've been meaning to do but haven't. I've made a box for each of my children with items I wish for them to have when I die. Over the past 3 days I have scanned over 400 photos so I can make discs for both children of them growing up. I still have many more pictures to scan. The discs when completed will include pictures with their father and myself prior to our meeting, the kids, them together and individually and at least one photo of each relative that I have a picture of. I plan to write them each a letter and put them in their boxes of stuff from me.
In 3rd grade I had a crush on this boy named Brian who was hit and killed by this other boys mother. He was crossing the road from the dirt lot and the other boys mom came around the corner fast and hit him. His helmet wasn't on properly and the underneath of the pick up caught his neck and dragged him. I was crushed.
When I was 10 my evil first step father was drunk one night and was asking my mom for the keys to the car and she wouldn't give them to him. We were in the living room. He went outside, came back in and asked her again. She refused. He pulled a small gun out of his pocket and shot at my mother. I went running out of the house screaming for someone to help. He came beside me in the car and told me to get in the house. I told him I hated him and I wished he was dead. My mother and I went across the street to some friends' house. They called the police. I was in there room looking out the window from my friends house to my house, which was caddy corner. I seen police cars. Then I seen my step father drive through real fast. A bit later the police showed up at my friends house. They were asking my mom about what he was wearing. They told her they found him dead outside the car. He had committed suicide.
At 13 years old I woke up to my mom and 2nd step father telling me that my Uncle Steve had died. He was in a car accident and was thrown from the window.
When I was 16 I was planning to go to a party with this male friend. Earlier in the day I was arrested and taken to Juvenile Hall. Two weeks later I received a letter that he was killed the night of the party. He was driving drunk with another friend who he liked. He flipped the car they were thrown from the vehicle. He landed on his head and was killed instantly. She broke her back and both legs.
At 26, my brother Josh died. This was the worst I'd encountered thus far. He called several days prior to his death and left a message for me to call because he might not get to talk to me again. My roommate gave me the message two days later. I wish I had called him. The following day during my lunch I walked over to Taco Bell. Usually I would eat my lunch in peace and go back to work. I felt a need to call my dad. There was a payphone outside Taco Bell so I called. His wife answered and asked if I was at home. I said no I'm on lunch. She said well we need to see you, she said. I knew something was wrong. I asked her who died. Never in a million years did I think it would be one of my siblings. Maybe a grand parent or other relative.
Three years later my grandma Cooney was in the hospital. She was in a coma or something when I got there. The first night I found out she was there I stayed the night and everyday after that I would drive 75 miles to go see her. On her birthday she woke up! We were there with her. She smiled. I was so grateful to get those last kisses and for her to call me dollie. My grandmother and I had gotten closer over the 2 years previous. She went back into a coma. Four days later, on grandpa's birthday, my grandfather, father, aunties, cousin Nikki and I were there praying. We sang songs to her. We held hands around her. There were a lot of tears. My heart ached so much every time I looked at my grandpa. Knowing he was loosing the woman he'd been with for over 50 years. A few drops of rain hit the window of her room. Shortly there after she began to breathe different. I leaned to her ear and told her to fly away home. A few breaths later she was gone. It was the first time I had seen some one die.
A week or so later was her funeral. That night when I was fast asleep in bed, I woke up to a loud noise. I jumped out of bed, grabbed my cordless and went out the front door of my apartment. Laid there before me was my neighbors son. There were other people outside. I went to his side, he wasn't moving. I loudly asked what happened. No one responded to me. I dialed 911. I again asked what happened. I was told he was shot and was it. I asked someone to get a blanket because it was cold. No one wanted to help. This was very sad to me. The paramedics instructed me to check for blood without moving. I did. I seen none. I bent down to ask his name as they asked. He wasn't speaking, he made only gurgling noises. A young woman said his names Raymond. I then became conscience of her presence and that of his fathers about 30 feet away crying. He was an old hispanic man who spoke no english. I didn't know what to do so I started tell this young man to hang in there. The young woman suddenly became hysterical as the sirens of the ambulance and police were coming. She needed to hide. I told her to go into my apartment. I didn't know why she needed to hide nor did I even think about why I was letting this person I didn't know into my apartment. But she needed to just shut up. This wasn't about her. He died.
A few days ago my husband found out his Uncle he loves so much has 2weeks to 2 months to live. He is torn apart. I rarely see him cry. He has never really had anyone close to him die. I feel sad for him and ask God to give him strength through this. My husband is a very strong man but this is new territory for him. I hope he will be okay.
Over the years there were other relatives, people I went to school with, clients who past away. The ones I've written about were the ones that had the biggest impact on my life. Death isn't unfamiliar to my life. I am writing this today because I have a fear of dying. June 23 this year I had a stroke. I'm only 38 years old. Death has been very real over the years but not until now had it ever been a possible reality for myself. I have decided to begin doing the things I've been meaning to do but haven't. I've made a box for each of my children with items I wish for them to have when I die. Over the past 3 days I have scanned over 400 photos so I can make discs for both children of them growing up. I still have many more pictures to scan. The discs when completed will include pictures with their father and myself prior to our meeting, the kids, them together and individually and at least one photo of each relative that I have a picture of. I plan to write them each a letter and put them in their boxes of stuff from me.
Friday, August 6, 2010
My ex-husband and I parted nearly 12 years ago. Cory was 6, Brianna was 4. I was strung out on drugs, using every day. I was not Dawn anymore. The drugs had turned me into someone else, something else. My thoughts were distorted. I left him and the kids behind and I took off with another man. I remember the anger and the hurt in the eyes of those I loved, yet was unable to stop. I felt bad inside but I could not stop. The pain was unbearable so I simply used more drugs to drown the feelings. I couldn't turn back. I just knew what I had done was unforgivable. When I went to jail 4 months later he picked me up and offered to pay for me to go to rehab. I refused. How could I possibly take him up on the offer after what I had done? I didn't deserve it. I moved to another county an hour away. I started going to 12 step meetings. Met people who accepted me. Oh how I missed my children and wished I could be with my husband again. I was so full of regret and remorse. The first 30 days I was clean I cried myself to sleep every night. I wished I would die. When he would come down and bring the kids my heart ached. I wasn't there to see their milestones, to read bed time stories or teach them He had been my love and had intended to be with him forever. Where did I go wrong? There was nothing I could do about what had already transpired. I had to move forward. I certainly couldn't continue to indulge in self pity. Yes, my family had been torn apart and we would never be a family again. I was willing to accept that. Really, I had no choice. What I regret most is my children had to endure confusion and hurt. All because I was a druggie who couldn't see past the end of her own nose! I continue to feel guilt and undeserving of my childrens love.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Looking Back
This was written on October 28, 2006 while my husband and I were homeless.
"We have been homeless now since the 17th of this month. It seems much longer than it really has been. A couple more weeks and we will be in some kind of place that will at least provide shelter and won't have to sleep outside in the cold anymore. I have been homeless before going from house to house, lived in a shack without electricity, lived in a car and even lived in a tent, but never had I slept in the cold on hard concrete, a piece of wood or in the wet grass. These are new experiences for me. I wish it weren't this way but it is and there's nothing we can do about it at the moment but to keep moving along our path. Not give up. Each day brings us new opportunities to make the best of the day we are in and to hopefully do something that can make the days ahead better."
I remember the struggles we went through for several years. There were times I nearly gave up. Sometimes when I feel overwhelmed with life I actually remember the simplicity of being homeless. No bills, no pressure, no due dates, no IRS. No one expected anything because we had nothing. Only each other and God.
"We have been homeless now since the 17th of this month. It seems much longer than it really has been. A couple more weeks and we will be in some kind of place that will at least provide shelter and won't have to sleep outside in the cold anymore. I have been homeless before going from house to house, lived in a shack without electricity, lived in a car and even lived in a tent, but never had I slept in the cold on hard concrete, a piece of wood or in the wet grass. These are new experiences for me. I wish it weren't this way but it is and there's nothing we can do about it at the moment but to keep moving along our path. Not give up. Each day brings us new opportunities to make the best of the day we are in and to hopefully do something that can make the days ahead better."
I remember the struggles we went through for several years. There were times I nearly gave up. Sometimes when I feel overwhelmed with life I actually remember the simplicity of being homeless. No bills, no pressure, no due dates, no IRS. No one expected anything because we had nothing. Only each other and God.
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