Credit Where Credit is Due

My wife is a quilter. Quilters are a special bunch, enamored by good selections of fabric, and will roam long distances to visit one they like, or one they've never been to before. With my wife, going with her to a quilt store is like bringing a child to a candy store. It's a pleasant feeling to see her so happy, and her excitement is infectious. We've been to many in Texas, and will probably venture to see more.

One of her favorites, and one we've been to many times, closes its doors at 3:00 pm today. The owners are retiring, and it appears nobody wants to take on the store. After forty years in business, I'm thinking many, like my wife, will miss it. Multiple generations of quilters were steady customers. 

In a way, it was a landmark for quilters in the Houston area. The owners offered a huge selection of fabrics, and Charlie was an expert on the repair, and maintenance, of the Jenome sewing machines they sold. During the annual Quilt Festival, hoards of quilters would visit to  wander through another shop, and take advantage of sales. Before we met, my wife would drive about 100 miles to visit.

So good bye "Painted Pony". Quilters will miss the store, and my wife has some melancholy due to losing a store she loved to visit over the last three decades.

When Words Don't Work

I wrote last week about an impending passing. They were given 48 hours to live, but that was over a week ago. Their time is very near.

Words don't seem to work during these times. No matter how much you know of the experience, you can't quite find the words that fit the sorrow, loss, relief and emptiness that fills your emotions. You witness them one last time before they're taken away, and all you can think of is how alive they look; even as they lay without breathing.

We all pass, and someone may be there for the final moment...or not. It's part of life, but one of the hardest times of the experience.

A Loss of Words

A very dear person in my life is facing something I faced, yet I find I'm at a loss for the right words. I faced the same thing long in the past, but I find I'm digging deep for the correct thing to say, and can only watch the event that is near.

I wrote about the passing of my father. He had a struggle, and it wasn't pleasant to watch. I was young, though, and he was too, but I was surprised by how quick he was gone. Maybe it was avoiding the inevitable on my part, or maybe a denial of the possibilities, but at the age I was, my father was still a rock of strength to hold to forever. Losing him was something that never crossed my mind.

I watched late last night, as family gathered to be with someone that the doctors say will never wake again. A minor stroke led to the initial hospital visit, and a seizure last night was followed by a massive stroke. Surgery is risky, and it's not his wishes for heroic measures that can only leave him unable to perform the simplest of tasks; his life one of lying in bed; intubated; all days possibly in a coma; and all dignity stripped away forever.

So the death watch has started. A man that once was a leader of his fellow workers, a rodeo competitor up to months ago, and dearly loved by a family now huddled in a small room filled with medical instruments, is now at the start of another journey. His time here is short, and the time of loss is starting for those that must wait for their journey,

I guess there are really no words that can comfort, or take away the raw emotions these times bring. Only prayers, and hugs seem to offer some relief. Nothing can take away the loss, nor erase the memories that tumble into your thoughts like oak leaves on an Autumn day. It's a finality to one journey, and those left behind can only gaze across the great chasm and imagine what lays beyond for those they wish could stay longer.  

Monday Sadness

I linked Jeffro right after I started my blog. He visited my blog, commented and I did the same.

I followed his life, while he worked, ruminated about his life, the loss of his homestead and his time picking up the pieces. It was interesting, led to soul searching and the thought I'd visit him, if I ever traveled to his part of the country.

He wrote a post the other day, and I commented. When I checked his site today, there were other comments and one that stated something I didn't want to read.

Jeffro has been fighting health problems, with little success, yet with a positive outlook, and the hope he could beat the odds.

He passed today. There is no explanation, but I have the feeling his body finally gave out, and the world lost another person willing to share this experience we call life.

Rest in peace, Jeffro. I'll miss you.

I'm adding his obituary. Too many good people disappear; only a few lines in a local newspaper. 



Robert J. "Jeff" Borland Jr., 54, died Monday, May 5, 2014 at Western Plains Medical Complex, Dodge City.
He was born August 27, 1959 at Dodge City, the son of Robert J. Borland Sr. and Mary Jo McGinley. Jeff graduated from Cimarron High School in 1977 and then went on to St. Mary of the Plains College in Dodge City then the Dodge City Community College and then one semester at Kansas State University.
During college, he worked at Gibson's in Dodge City, later working for Burns Trucking, the Dodge City Post Office and Magouirk Chevrolet in Dodge City and Palmer Manufacturing and Tank in Garden City.
Jeff was a member of the NRA and loved watching NASCAR racing and Dale Earnhardt Jr. 88.
Survivors include: his sister, Kathleen Borland, Oklahoma City, Oklahoma; an aunt, Gail Borland, Niles, Michigan; an uncle, Pleasant Kimball, San Ramon, California; cousins, Tom South and wife Betty Ann, Dodge City, Ronda Pegram and husband Randy, Rogers, Arkansas, Charles Borland, Buchanan, Michigan, Amy Bean and husband Steve, Grand Rapids, Minnesota, Jennifer Martin and husband Doug, Pacifica, California, Steve Kimball, San Ramon, California; his cat, Kitsey and a host of friends.
He was preceded in death by his parents.
Vigil service will be at 7:00 pm Monday, May 12, 2014 at St. Stanislaus Church, Ingalls, Kansas. Funeral Mass will be 10:00 am Tuesday at the Church, with Fr. James Baker presiding. Friends may call from 12:00 noon to 4:00 pm Monday at Ziegler Funeral Chapel Cimarron. Burial will be in Cimarron Cemetery, Cimarron Kansas.
The family suggests memorials to the Ford County Humane Society, American

Diabetes Association

or the donor's choice of a Humane Society all in care of Ziegler Funeral Chapel, P.O. Box 446, Cimarron, Kansas 67835. Condolences may be sent to www.zieglerfuneralchapel.com. - See more at: http://www.legacy.com/obituaries/dodgeglobe/obituary.aspx?n=robert-j-borland-jeff&pid=170948445&#sthash.I0Bgf454.dpuf

Dropping Like Flies

My sister-in-law, who is the widow of my brother, lost her mother this week. She was fighting cancer and cancer won.

This is one of the things that age brings; and nobody can prepare for the onslaught of losing people they love.

God bless her and may she find some moments where the sorrow doesn't overwhelm.

It's Time to Get Busy

Yesterday, I appeared before a judge, verified my mother's will, took an oath and received an official piece of paper that gives me authority to complete my mother's wishes. While I knew this moment would arrive, yesterday was the final requirement before completing my task.

I'll gather all her worth, take care of any debts, file all important pieces of paper, sell all that's not accepted as part of an inheritance and eventually disperse all that's left to the listed heirs in her will.

It's time to get busy. How this effects my blog will remain to be seen. Hopefully, the effect will be less than I expect, which is most of my time will be consumed by many things.

We'll see. If I'm not here much, you know where I am.

I Hate Reading Stuff Like This

There's nothing anyone can do, so it only makes it worse. 

All Tattered and Torn

I had some supplies to pick up at an industrial supply house this evening, which is in the far end of my home town. I took the short-cut I knew, to save some time and avoid the evening traffic from the local refineries.

My route led me through downtown...or what was once downtown. Little was left, except the numerous empty buildings; a testament to days long gone; boarded window, decay and the memories of those left to remember.

I tried to look for landmarks, but found few. The old businesses were long gone; not even a sign to show where they were. The banks - once majestic, with the names carved into the marble - were as empty and desolate as the rest of what once was a thriving center of commerce.

I picked up my supplies and decided to take a drive through town.

As I drove, I examined the same streets once part of times long gone. Neat, trimmed lawns were few to be found, unlike when I was young. Grass grew over the curbs of streets in need of repair. Houses, once fresh painted,  were now empty, or long worn and neglected. Closed businesses marked where too many succumbed to age, quit trying or moved on.

Memories swarmed and filled the emptiness I was feeling. Instead of the decay, I was seeing the past, when the cicadas buzzed in the lazy summer evenings. Children played, while fathers cut the yard. People waved, smiled and you knew you were safe if were to walk down any street. As quick as they came, the memories soon disappeared. Unhappy thoughts soon filled my mind.

The more I drove, the darker my thoughts. It was as though something precious was stolen; the thieves cloaked in politics and corruption; my hometown stricken with disease, dying a slow death and would eventually be nothing but long stretches of desolation and despair.

I pushed the thoughts aside and headed for a grocery store to buy a few items I needed. As I pulled into the parking lot, the radio played:

"Rainy days, dream away
Let the sun take a holiday."

I looked to the north and saw the deep blue line of approaching thunderstorms. Rain was coming, and I needed to hurry.

As I stepped from my truck, the hot wind swirled the smell of hot asphalt, with fresh cut grass and I was returned to my youth. Memories swirled once again and I decided I would gather them close and hold them as long as they would last.

So, Now It Begins

The death certificates arrived, an attorney is in the process of filing the correct papers and within a couple of weeks, I'll sit in front of a judge and be appointed as executor. I've known this was coming and all the mental preparation didn't prepare me for the actual event.

As time goes on, some of my experiences may be notable and require writing. Hopefully not. The task will be long and involved. In the end, memories will be all that's left and I hope the family will learn to congregate at a new location to perpetuate our legacy of never letting large periods of time pass without gathering and breaking bread.

When The Options Run Out

I'm meeting with a hospice nurse for an assessment of my mother this afternoon. After a downhill run, a weekend of barely responding and watching how the prospect of even moving is a terrible experience, I'm faced with a decision that is mine alone. It's been on my mind for a week and it won't be any easier than when I first contemplated the decision.

I can't describe the importance of now, when it comes to loved ones. There is only this moment and something that seems insignificant, such as a quick phone call, may be the last. You never know and you don't get second chances.