Following the “rules of blog” – I sometimes share moments from then (we have 27 years of material to choose from) and I share moments from now. If I leave you with a question in this down syndrome blog, feel free to ask it. If I leave you with a revelation, feel free to share it. If I post a general rant or big news that has nothing to do with Marcus, well, that’s the blogger’s prerogative.
Here are some blogs or subjects to start with. Or just scroll down for our most recent adventures!
Today I’m going to share a little about loss and what Marcus teaches me about how to deal with death and grief.
Fair warning and disclaimer: these opinions are, in fact, my own.
Families across the globe move because they are forced to flee. Many more remain in hiding, are tortured, and die a long, slow, and painful death of body and spirit.
Homes are ripped away due to war. Discrimination. Segregation. Oppression.
Asylum, a word of hope.
A process of desperation.
Shall I ever have to plead for Asylum? I don’t know. Policies, as they stand currently, mean my family is not welcome to relocate in most English-speaking countries. We are born Americans. However, if we want to emigrate, or if circumstances worsened, forced to flee…we would have few options. To be honest, as it stands, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, even the UK would not receive my family.
I am not exaggerating.
As of now, we
Grandma just moved into her new apartment so we went to to the store and meandered ever so slowly down the aisles to gather her list. A new toilet brush (though there were house-keepers cleaning the apartment), a gallon of bleach (don’t argue), crackers and snacks (to supplement the three complete meals served daily).
To be fair, she was also healing from heart surgery, so Marcus and I walked each careful step beside her.
Skip ahead to: shopping complete.
Marcus and Grandma waited outside the door while I pulled the car up to the curb. We unloaded the groceries and, as is the custom, Marcus headed off to do his duty of returning the cart.
I helped Grandma into the car and moved into the driver seat. I saw Marcus go in and could feel from the distance a little confusion. What he’s used to is a cart corral outside, but since we were so close to the front he took the cart inside. When he walked through the doors he could see to his left where the cards were corralled, but that area was blocked off. He had to continue through another set of double doors to return the cart, then proceed to the exit doors to come out. Little tricky. I could see him trying to work this out. I waited. I knew he would. And he did.
Sundays are my most guarded day. It’s the morning that I get to write. Then, throughout the day I do the prep and caring duties of laundry and cooking and bills and other what-nots necessary to be ready for the coming week. Also, Sundays I take time to read other blogs.
Several Sundays ago, while reading the variety of words that my friends at the Finish the Sentence Friday blog hop gang created, I thought, I learn so much from this scattered group of writers. So, I popped an email to the fearless co-leader, Kristi and said, let’s talk about this. So here we go!
Lesson #1 – Accept the Challenge
Let’s begin somewhere near the beginning, and also, I put these lessons in alphabetical order. (When in doubt on how to sort a list, start with A.) Anyway…The first blogger I