Memorial Day... in loving memory

In memory of one special man...





... and, as the edge of our back patio shows, a family that existed once upon a time on Earth forever exists in the heart.

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Shelby, John and I went to the cemetery on Sunday to decorate for Memorial Day. As we worked, we talked about how the people bearing names on the headstones surrounding Andy have become almost like "neighbors."

On Andy's right hand side is a gentleman who died in 1978 who shares a double headstone with his wife. On our past visits there was no death date for the wife, so we assumed she was still living. It turns out that we were correct, because this time there is a fairly new date plate on the stone stating that she died last month, along with an abundance of flowers with a ribbon that reads "Mom and Dad." We felt bad knowing this year is especially sad for the family.

Right next to them are two graves with decorations that read "Grandma and Grandpa. The kids and I wonder: are they the parents of the couple next to them?

Next door to "Grandma and Grandpa" is a new grave with a shiny new headstone, but interestingly the man's date of birth is given as sometime in the 1800's and he died in 1960. His name is new to us, but will become familiar as the years pass. But, what is his story? Was he really just moved here 49 years after his passing? And why? Was he a MIA veteran? Was he simply moved to be closer to family?

The headstone directly above Andy is a somber one to us. The young man died on the exact same day as Andy. He was buried in the morning the day Andy was buried in the afternoon. His obituary is on the same page of the paper so I even feel like I somewhat know his family. He also left young children behind, and often there are clay figures, paper machete handprints and other childhood art that is obviously created in love by his kids. As many years as we have visited the cemetery on almost every holiday, we have yet to meet any member of his family. I wonder, do they feel a bond with us, too?

To Andy's left is a lady that I knew personally, although not well. The lady had married a widower that later died himself, and she is buried next to him and his first wife. The graves of the man and his first wife are always very well decorated, but sadly there is nary a flower for the second wife. Usually we place a little something on her grave, so this year we used a flower and a little flag from our supply.

It's always a good thing to be nice to one's neighbors.

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Seven years and Ash Wednesday

"Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return."

Today marks seven years since Andy's spirit left this earth. I find it fitting that the anniversary fell on Ash Wednesday this year.

I have read that our bodies generate all new cells every seven years.

Maybe that's true with skin cells, brain cells, limb cells.

But there are no cells in a soul, and I know for a fact that those of the heart don't change.

I know this because, although it has been seven years since I last kissed him, held him, touched him...

He still resides in every cell of my heart, and I will love him with every breath of my life.

A simple outdoor ceremony with a Western theme

... and this is a simple post with a few simple moments that are frozen in time.










I don't think anybody else remembers that today Andy and I would mark our 21st anniversary.

But, I do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"When we die we will be buried side by side..."

Today I am missing my friend.

When I look at the pictures of Sue they don’t begin to show who she really was. Sue had an angelic beauty that shone from the inside out. Her nickname to many was “Sunshine,” and it wasn’t just because of her flaming red hair. There was such warmth about her that could brighten any sadness. A kinder, gentler soul never lived.




This is a photo snapped at our Senior Prom. My two best friends were Sue and Kathy, I was always the giant among the little people! :)

Here we are being silly at a kid's party. We were about age 25. I moved to Oklahoma a few months after this was taken, but I made it back to visit 2-3 times a year. After Sue's death and my brother's wedding, I did not return to Michigan for 9 years.

Here is a photo of our families together. I took the picture of Sue, Arthur and their kids along with my brother Doug, Jimmy and Shelby.




This photo of the four of us was taken at our 20th class reunion. Sue's accident happened eight months later.




This was taken one of the last times I ever saw Sue. I was supposed to see her at my brother's wedding on April 30, '94. She had made Marilyn's wedding gown, and she couldn't wait for everybody to see it.


I will never forget the day of the accident. I was at work, but Arthur made sure I was alone before he broke the news. He couldn’t bring himself to say the “D” word. How he phrased it was:

“I don’t know how to tell you this… Susie’s memorial services are planned for Wednesday.”

In that crazy, swirling moment I remember a flash of being indignant. The real meaning of his words didn’t sink in for a minute. How dare they plan something that important for Wednesday when they all knew I was going to be there in less than three weeks?

Then the reality of what he said hit, and I wept, not only for the loss of my friend, but for Arthur and his four young sons.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Arthur and I were married, we purchased the two cemetery plots under mine and Andy's to inter her cremains, and someday Art and I will also take up residence there.

I had forgotten about Sue's entry in my high school yearbook, but recently found it. I smile when I think about how distant we perceived death in those days:



Here is the entire entry, you can click on it to enlarge. Just a lot of light teenaged thoughts, not an inkling of how prophetic the words would turn out to be. She even thanked me indirectly for introducing her to Arthur! :)



Although I hope it is awhile before it happens, I guess you were right, Susie. Not quite side by side, but pretty darn close.


Here is a link to Sue's memorial site with more photos and memories of her. I feel better having written about her, but all this is such a tiny bit of who Sue was to those of us who knew and loved her.

In Loving Memory of Sue

My friend Sue

Susie will be gone fourteen years tomorrow.

For anybody new that may be reading this, Arthur’s late wife Sue was one of my best friends. This presents a complication in my marriage to Arthur that most of my re-partnered friends don’t need to worry about.

Sometimes I have problems reconciling my love for Arthur with my loyalty to the memory of Susie, although I understand in my rational brain that she is no longer here. I am not replacing her, and I'm sure she would understand why Arthur and I ended up together. In fact, knowing Sue, she would be so concerned about Arthur that she would want me to be with him.

Awhile back, Arthur had a “visitation” dream. Since I know Sue so well, his description gave me chills.

Art had a really severe, splitting headache and was in bed in the afternoon. I had to take one of the kids to some band activity for a couple of hours. I kissed him goodbye, and left.

When I came home, Arthur woke up and said "I had this really vivid dream that Sue was here. She said that since I was hurting so bad and you had to be away that she would sit with me until you came back."

It would be so like Sue to do something like that.

The past few years I have focused on the fact that April 9th brings so much pain to Arthur. But, although I will be kind to him tomorrow, I need to take time to remember my friend who means much, much more to me than simply being Arthur’s late wife.

More tomorrow.

Remembering Phoenix

I need to tell the story, but I’m not sure how to start. It feels like something I have never completely absorbed, because it happened during the 18 months of confusion preceding Andy’s death.

Seven years ago today Andy and I lost our little grandson, Phoenix. He was the son of Andy’s oldest daughter Frances, and we were his “Papa and Nana La-la.” (He couldn’t pronounce “Waller.” We loved it!)

“Whacha doin’ Papa La-la?”

“Nana La-la, watch me run! I be the FASTEST!”

Phoenix loved to play, and loved to run. But on that day in 2001, he ran too far. He was in the front yard with his older sister, and before she could stop him he chased his soccer ball into the road in front of an oncoming pickup.

Already overwhelmed with his own illness and in the hospital himself, Andy called me. I so wish I had been with him when he was told that Phoenix had died, but I had left for home just a half hour earlier. He could barely speak, and I was brought to my knees by the news. John and Shelby were totally devastated, and that night they slept with me, all of us in a tight cluster in the middle of my bed.

Phoenix was buried 3 days later in a pretty little rural cemetery in the little town of Roland, Oklahoma. It was about a three hour drive from here, and Andy was not well enough to leave the hospital for the funeral. I wrote down every detail so I could tell him all about it. Little did we know that Andy would be joining Phoenix in heaven a year later, almost to the day.

One strange little thing happened at the graveside. A little calico cat darted out of nowhere, and kept on rubbing all over John. He kept it up until we left. Maybe it was a sign that Phoenix wanted to play with John one last time.

Phoenix and John were the same age. They used to have a great old time running around whenever the two of them were together. He would have turned 13 on Valentine’s Day this year, and it’s so not fair…he should have been here to receive his own rose from a girl like John did last Thursday.

My heart is heavy today. Phoenix has been gone longer than he was even on this earth. I miss the cute little imp that he was, but even more I miss getting to know him as he grew. I knew and loved the child, but never got to know the person. I miss having a relationship with the young man that he now would be.

Dear Phoenix; I hope you and Papa La-la are having a great time running across those fields in heaven.

Nana La-la misses you both.

Goodbye Richard Defoxxe...

It is never easy to say goodbye to a friend, but it is even harder when you don’t have the opportunity to say it.

I lost one of my best friends less than two months after Andy died.

Rick and I were high school flames. We even talked of marriage, broke up, got back together, broke up… but somehow remained friends in spite of this. Eventually as the years unfolded the truth came out… Richard was gay. He loved me as much as he could, but we truly lived in two different worlds.

When I moved to Oklahoma, Rick became another one of my dear telephone-call/Christmas card buddies back in Detroit. We never lost touch. It was a very sad day for me when he sent a newspaper article about a gay man and his partner living with HIV. The article was a true story… about him.

Rick’s caring and support meant so much to me during Andy’s last months. He already knew that his condition, too, was terminal, but that didn’t stop him from giving us cheery phone calls, sending silly cards and little gifts, and filling boxes with candy for the kids.

I knew he was struggling badly during Andy’s last two weeks. I also knew that I did not have enough of me to go around. Andy needed me desperately, and I didn’t have the energy to return Rick the favor of kindness he had been showing me. I couldn’t even return his calls. I still pray that I didn’t hurt his feelings…that he understood why…

By the time Andy passed away, Rick was living in a world of severe confusion, high fevers, and depression. When I called, he could only say that he was sorry… and I was not even sure if he knew who was calling or what I was saying. A few short weeks later he, too, was gone.

There were no services, not even a memorial gathering. My heart was so heavy… I felt like I had been forced through circumstances to abandon my friend, and then I couldn’t even say goodbye.

Rick continued to drift in and out of my mind. His mother died a couple of years ago, and that news saddened me, mostly because it brought back old memories. I remembered things like how back in our high school days I used to stop by his house while he was at work and tie a ribbon around the tree in his front yard. He always got a kick out of it, and mentioned how his mother would carefully straighten the ribbons if they were messed up. She lived in that same house to the end of her life, and it is still in the family to my knowledge.

On the way back from Maine, Arthur and I spent a couple of days in the Detroit area. One day we drove past Rick’s old street and I suddenly had a bright idea. I was driving, so I told Arthur to hang on tight… I was a woman on a mission!! :) I zipped into a Hallmark store and purchased a spool of ribbon and a fabric rose. Then I zipped back to Rick’s street, pulled in front of the house, and proceeded to tie the ribbon on the tree. For added flair I tucked the flower into the ribbon.

When I stepped back to admire my handiwork, I noticed that the perennial gardens that Richard had tended with such care are still beautiful even 5 years later. I finally was able to say my goodbye, and I have peace knowing that beauty lives on.


In memory of Richard “DeFoxxe” 10-23-1954 - 4-24-2002

In Loving Memory

Remembering Kalynn

I have known Kalynn since she was a very little girl.

She was a cute little mop-top with an impish grin who would come over to our house, and bounce on the bed with Shelby and her sister Kendy. She has been blossoming into a beautiful young lady, with big plans to enter the Coast Guard this year.

Kids are kids, believe they are invincible... a momentary lack of judgement... no seat belt, traveling a bit too fast on a gravel road... and she leaves behind a grieving family, and a bunch of "if onlys." I am thinking of Kendy who was also in the car, and kept Kalynn awake and talking until emergency crews arrived. I am praying for peace to come to all the hearts that have been broken by this tragedy.

I am praying for Kalynn as she makes her way to the next life.

Only 17 years old.

Because of you...

Because of you, I still celebrate...

Because of you, I love a little more.

Because of you, I take time to give an extra kiss good-bye.

Because of you, I have a new favorite song.

Because of you, there may be dust on the window sill,
and I don't care.

Because of you, I live today,
before I worry about tomorrow.

Because of you, I don't give up quite as fast.

Because of you, I still believe in rainbows.

Because of you, now I can help or listen more.

Because of you, today, I am me.


by Eileen Wernsman

Photo: Andy and Steph August 1988

In memory of our anniversary

Andy's Memory Folder

Actually, he was born in Grand Prairie, TX. I told them before they printed this, but they still put Fort Worth. I don't know why.

The sweet innocence of children