~ The Greatest is Love ~

Often, here on my front porch, I am fortunate to have 
someone else take over this space and share a story.

Today my good friend, Geri, has written 
a piece that is so very close to her heart.
For me, it is a lesson in endurance, patience, and love.
And reminds me of this verse....

And now these three remain: Faith, Hope, and Love.
But the greatest of these is Love.
1 Corinthians 13-13

~

~ Geri with her husband, Pete ~

Thank you, Misha, for asking me to write a guest post. 
I have struggled to find the words to write about my son Nick,
 and I realized the other morning I wanted to share something he wrote me.

Nick sent me this letter when I went to a 12 step weekend retreat in October of 2006.  I’ll give a little background about it.  I had joined Al-Anon a few years before this retreat, as Nick struggled with the disease of alcoholism/drug addiction.   For those who might not know, Al-Anon is a wonderful support group for family and friends of alcoholics.  Maybe someday I will write another guest post (if I’m invited back again!) sharing with you and your readers how much it has changed my life, taught me, meant to me.  For now I’ll just say that because I was a member of a 12 step program, my dear, dear friend Kathi, herself a long time member of AA, was able to invite me to this wonderful weekend of recovery.  

One of the most touching parts of the weekend is ‘the letter ceremony’.  It is held on Saturday evening, in a room filled with candlelight, soft instrumental music and love, lots and lots of love.  As my sponsor for the weekend, Kathi had sent letters to my family and friends, asking them to tell me what changes they might have seen in me, how my recovery was affecting them, what I meant to them, things of this nature.  All the letters would be sent to her, and she would present them to me during the ceremony.

~ Geri with Nick as a toddler ~

 As she told me later, the letter she knew would mean so much to me, the one she really, really wanted to make sure I got, was a letter from Nick.  So, Kathi being Kathi (I have a whole other post I could write about her, and what true, long time friendship looks like. We've been best friends for 50 years!), she wanted to make it as easy as possible for Nick to get that letter written and sent back to her.  She was a little nervous that since he was a 22 year old college student, busy with full time school and a full time job, he might procrastinate writing it, or maybe not take the time to write one at all.  So in the letter she sent him, explaining what he might want to write about, she included a self-addressed, stamped envelope.  
She said she was prepared to call him, or if necessary to even drive to where he lived to make sure I got a letter from him.

~ Nick in his graduation photo ~

She needn't have worried.  Within a few days of mailing Nick the letter, she noticed an envelope in her mailbox, addressed to her, in her own handwriting.  
Nick was the very first person to get a letter back to her.  

Here’s what he wrote:

Dear Mom:

What’s up?  (he always opened a conversation with that phrase).  I hope you are enjoying your retreat so far.  How lucky am I to have a mother like you?  Pretty darn lucky! Your constant generosity, caring and understanding have greatly helped make my life what it is today.  I can think of countless examples of you being all these things.  Like our daily phone conversations.  When half the time I’m in a bad mood and acting like a jerk, and instead of hanging up on me and calling me an asshole like I deserve you listen and give advice, showing you care.  Or even after my second drunk driving, you never gave up on me, even when a lot of other people did.  You gave me encouragement that I needed to stay afloat.  The two years of you driving me places, so I could get to work and meetings.  That was extremely kind.  Thanks!! Or better yet, when I was feeling down about not getting any hours at work and you said, “don’t worry, your family’s got your back.”  That was really something mom.  It meant the world to me.  I’m truly grateful for the way you make me feel loved, even when I think I don’t want to be loved.  You know, I’m lucky.  I truly feel I have the world’s best mom.  Stay strong like I know you will.

Love, 
Nick

~ ~ ~

Nick lost his battle with this disease on June 10, 2009.  He was 25 years old.  He died of an accidental alcohol and methadone overdose.  I know he did not want to die, he just overdid it.  People tell me he went to sleep and did not wake up, that he was not in pain.  His roommate found him on his couch, in the same position he was in the night before, so I think this is true.  His beloved dog, Maggie, was with him when he passed. 

~ Nick's beloved dog, Maggie. She now lives with Geri and Pete ~

 He had relapsed again, and didn't share that with us.  I spoke with him two days before he died, and when I asked him how he was, as I always did, he said he was doing great, just great.  I believe he was trying to protect us, that he did not want us to worry, that he was embarrassed and ashamed that he had relapsed.  He was one class short of completing his degree at the Great Lakes Culinary Institute, where he had been studying to be a chef, a dream of his. 
 He was our first born, one of the two great joys of our life, and the person who taught me what it really meant to love another person.  He made me laugh and he made me cry.  I prayed, begged God to take the illness from him and give it to me, but we know it doesn't work that way.  I choose to believe he is at peace now, his struggles over and fears gone.
 I choose to believe I will see him again someday, somehow, and that his spirit, his essence, his true self is still with me everyday. 
 I am lucky, and honored, to be his mother.  

~ Nick "The Baconator" during class at culinary school ~

At Nick’s visitation the night before his funeral, after his sister Rachel read a poem for him, I asked people if they would like to get up and say something.  You could see people start to fidget a little;  this kind of thing is hard to do.  The first person to go up to the podium, with shaking hands, and a trembling voice, was Kathi.  And she told the story about the letter, because she felt it showed just how much Nick loved me, how considerate and thoughtful he could be, even though his disease led him to behave in ways that hurt us all deeply.  

Nick, I’m staying strong like you knew I would. 
But oh how I miss you!
How I ache to hug you, and talk to you and laugh with you. 
You tried; you fought the good fight.
I witnessed that personally. But it was too big for you. 
You have nothing, nothing to be ashamed of.

 As you heard me say so many times, I fell in love with you the minute I saw you, and that love has done nothing but grow stronger. 

 Sleep well, my sweet boy.  
 You were loved, and you loved.  
 And that is everything.

Thank you for this, Geri.

And you are so right.....

Love is everything.

Thank you for your friendship!

xo,

misha

Please feel free to leave a comment for Geri!

~

And if you would like to contact Geri,

 just click right here!

{ You can either *friend* her or message her from this link! }

~ Losing Bo ~

Bo came to us on a Sunday morning, 

in early October, 2006.

 

Bo 

It was Zeke who alerted us that something was in our front yard.

He whined and paced from the living room to our bedroom.

And then he pawed at me while I was pretending to sleep.

I finally got up, still half asleep, and followed Zeke.

He sniffed the front door and wagged his tail.

Brutus and Bo.

 I stepped out onto the front porch. 

Sitting at the bottom of the steps, was a tiny, tiny kitten!

Just at the age to be weaned.

He was so little, when he came of age to be neutered 

we had to wait because he didn't weigh enough yet!

A little "Garfield" cat he was.

I scooped him up and fell in love...

And he became my "Maverick".

Bo became my cat. 

You know how every animal has a *person*?

I became Bo's person.

He followed me everywhere.

He would lay in the bathroom while I showered.

Be at my feet, in the kitchen, while I cooked.

Curl up in my lap while I read.

Learned to ride on my shoulder.

Slept on my pillow each night.

He had the tiniest of meows.

The following summer, Brutus was born in our cellar.

When he was old enough, he came to live in the house.

And that was the beginning 

of the friendship between Bo and Brutus.

Best buddy's!

But they couldn't be more different.

Brutus is our *Fat Boy*!

All fluff and feet the size of half-dollars.

Brave, with a love of being outside.

Bo never grew much.

He has always been a little guy.

His feet the size of dimes!

He was incredibly shy.

He would hide when visitors came to call.

In fact, my parents have never seen Bo!

And venturing outside?

Never!

A window with a view to 

watch the birds was just fine in Bo's world.

Over the past few years, as Chronic Illness invaded my life,

 Bo became even more attached to me.

Some weeks find me in bed more than not.

And Bo would be right there with me.

He would only leave my little nest of 

blankets and pillows to do cat stuff.

~

We humans are so vocal about our bodies.

We talk about our aches and pains.

We let others around us know how we are feeling physically.

But not felines.

Cats are very secretive about their own pain.

They hide it.

Things became amiss with Bo about 10 days ago.

Simple blood-work ruled out basic illness and disease.

While waiting for the more advanced blood-work 

to come back, Bo became very, very ill.

Taking a nap while lying on my pillow.

My last 10 days have been consumed with only him.

Enticing him to eat and drink, as he rapidly lost weight.

Keeping him warm.

Letting him know just how much J and I love him.

I think of all the times he comforted me,

while he was so gravely ill himself....

The blood-work confirmed that Bo was not going to get better.

So yesterday I gave him a final act of Love I could give.

Making the decision to let him go.

We are blessed.

Our veterinarian (large and small animals), 

whom we have used for years, is only a couple of miles from us.

And so she came to our home, knowing my situation.

 I cuddled Bo while he lay across my chest, 

with his head on my shoulder and his paws holding onto me.

 He was wrapped in his favorite blanket.

While Bo was slipping away, I glanced at our vet.

Her eyes were red, with tears spilling down her cheeks.

She whispered to him what a loved little guy he was.

And then he was gone.

I am so grateful that he is no longer suffering.

But my lap and my heart sure feel empty. 

Last night, J buried Bo next to Maverick.

Mickey

My pillow was lonely last night at bedtime.

I missed hearing Bo purr as he dozed off.

But when I awoke at 3 a.m., Mickey was sleeping in Bo's spot.

And that gave me such comfort.

 I miss Bo with all my heart.

Thank you for reading about my little love...

xo,

misha