It’s been quite a few months and I’ve fallen behind on my blogging (and a lot of other things recently).
Of course, the Christmas season is always hectic and my oldest son was home from college again for a few weeks. How strange it still is to only see him twice a year as he attends school 1,000 miles away from what I still think of as his home. He’ll be graduating in only a few months and we’re still uncertain what part of the country he’ll end up in. He’ll be receiving a degree in computer science, but his actual major is Video Game Design and Development.
Who would have thought, as we played our commodore 64 in college and wrote our reports on DOS based programs that our children would have such an amazing world of opportunities with computers. I still recall wanting to take Vo-Tech courses in data entry which involved punch cards. What a difference just over 20 years makes.
In January, my step-father was diagnosed with a new brain tumor and received surgery soon after. This is his second fight against a very relentless illness. It’s been quite a struggle for he and my mother and of course, we’ve been doing anything we can to help them. We’ll be celebrating his 65th birthday next week, one we weren’t sure we’d see a year ago and with each one we pray it won’t be his last.
Earlier this month, our 27-yr-old nephew committed suicide after a long battle with a Bi-Polar Disorder which kept him constantly at war with his demons. We still don’t know how to make sense of this, including the fact that his two young sons have lost their father, the youngest one as he grows won’t remember the sound of his voice or the glimmer in his eyes. We loved him and we may never come to terms with the fact that we couldn’t help him because he wouldn’t help himself, refusing to take the medication which kept the demons leashed. So frustrating when I’ve heard it from my own son “I don’t like the way it makes me feel.” We’ve lost him in body only, his spirit lives on in us and his children. We can only hope he’s found the peace that he so desparately searched for in vain while here on earth. Goodbye Randy, we love you, we miss you, I wish you hadn’t had to leave us, I hope you found what you were looking for and that you’re whole and well now. Our hearts are broken as we try to hold on to the good times we’ve each had with you.
When our nephew was stationed in Kuwait, he’d send emails periodically, often complaining about the taste of the sand as well as the difficulty sending email. Here’s a blurb that summed up his personality:
“The post I work on has set up a firewall that doesn’t allow me to get to my hotmail account. The only way I can get on hotmail is to drive for about an hour and a half and walk into a 5-star hotel like I own the place.”
That was his way, no matter what was going on, when he walked in the door, he’d yell, “alright I’m here, let’s get this thing started.” Wherever you are now Randy, I know you walked in like you owned the place.