There once was a woman, Lulu Barlow. She was an amazing woman; smart, funny. charming and vivacious! Lulu never met a stranger, and if she did, they were not a stranger for long. She had a zest for life, enjoying dancing, music, good food and an occasional white water rafting adventure.
Sounds like a cool chick, huh?
Lulu also had a passion for collecting, ummm, things. Lots and lots of things. Dolls, nick knacks, chachkis (sp?) stuffed animals -- she really had no prejudices. If it was collectible, she collected it. In fact, she collected enough to amass a collection large enough to occupy the entire inside of an 1800 sq ft house. The goodies she collected often substituted for friends socializing.
As gregarious as Lulu was, she sadly lacked the social life that she so totally craved. As a result, she found plenty of ways to fill that void. Delivery people were friends, phone operators were acquaintances, and dolls, oh the dolls -- they were her kids and grand kids.
While this may sound sad, really it was not. She lived every minute as if it were her last and when she left this earth, she did it with little regret.
Now... Lulu left behind this collection of treasures. I have been charged with said collection and its disposal, liquidation and disbursment. To reach this end, I have opened an eBay store, Lulu Barlow Collectibles and am in the midst of developing a website -- lulubarlow.com. You can take a look and see what Lulu has to offer and what tricks she has up her sleeve. New items are posted regularly. This way, not only is the collection being taken care of, but it gives us the opportunity to share Lulu with so many people. A piece of her was in each piece she collected, and now she can be with each person who has a part of the lot.
At last, Lulu Barlow is having the social life she wanted and the adventures of a lifetime.
Showing posts with label Mom. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mom. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
Sunday, November 30, 2008
A new chapter...
There is more to come, but I will give you this as a tasty tidbit and glimpse into what will be coming!
Monday, August 18, 2008
Not for the faint of heart, or anyone in a rush
This is one of those posts that is purely an indulgence. I am not looking for comments or reactions, but I needed to write this, and it is long.
Earlier this summer my best friend's mother passed away -- suddenly. While it was a no-brainer for me to drop things and be there for her and her family, it came at a personal cost. As I held her hand and hugged her, helped make phone calls and attended all the sad events that accompanied this tragedy, I was reliving my own mother's death minute by minute, partially because my own mother's death seems so recent, and also because I loved her Mom as a surrogate of sorts.
Each of us deals with life differently. No two deaths are alike, nor are our reactions. So as I watched my friend muttle through this and continue to see her depressed self make valiant efforts to move forward with daily activities, I kind of got caught up in her and her grief and helping in any way I could think of. My own grief resurfaced, but waited in the wings, as it had to do when my own mom first passed away.
I cannot remember the time after my Mom's death. I recall moments and major events, but nothing like day to day life. Upon discussing this with Ken, we realized that it was because I came back from my "burying" my mom to go back to work, face surgery of my own, and plan a wedding -- all within 2 months. Then life kind of took over... I blogged about my mom a few times, and it was painfully clear that I was sad and missing her. I do not think that I miss her more or less than anyone misses their mother when they go, but again, I think we all deal with it in our own ways.
To this day, I pull out all the love notes she sent me and left for me in hiding places to re-read them and smile. I love recalling wonderful childhood memories with her, and realizing now what an amazing job she did raising me. I can with clarity look back on her life, our life, and see where I lost my Mom to mental illness and where I just plain ol' lost my Mom.
People think of my relationship with her as acrimonius. And at times it was. We fought horribly and said mean and hurtful things to one another. She made intense and unrealistic demands on me and I continuously let her down, even on the small stuff and witheld my empathy in an attempt to separate myself from her. I was mean. But when it is all said and done, she was my Mom and I loved her more than I will ever be able to explain or maybe even understand, and I know she loved me.
I ache for her in a way that I cannot describe and wish in my truest of hearts that I could take away the pain that my friend is feeling. I wish that because I know the pain all too well. Maybe not the exact pain and in the exact way, but clos enough that I know I want to take it away from her. But then again, I wish I could take it away from myself.
Tuesday, Aug 19 will be two years ago that Leni K, my own personal Lulu Barlow, left this Earth. I take solace in the hope that she is in a better place and no longer in pain. That she is the Mom that I knew and loved and called my best friend, not because I had to, but because I really wanted to. I cannot tell you what I would give to have the phone ring and hear her voice on the other end or smell her perfume. I would gladly be late going somewhere so she could find just the right piece of jewelry to match the trim of her shirt or the right shade of lipstick. I would happily take a motherly check up call when I am not feeling my best.
As tomorrow approaches, the logical side of me notes that it is just another day and I should just move forward. But though it has been two years, it may as well have been yesterday. My heart phyiscally hurts and I just want to bring her back.
I am finally makign my way through her things and liquidating what I can in an attempt to just lessen the load so to speak. But as I do this, I cannot help but feel liKE I am liquidating parts of her. SO I am writing this tonight to tell her...
MOM, I LOVE YOU. I ALWAYS DID AND I ALWAYS WILL. I AM NOT GETTING RID OF YOU BY GETTING RID OF THESE THINGS, AS THAT IS WHAT THEY ARE, THINGS. THEY ARE NOT YOUR LOVE, YOUR HEART, YOUR COMPASSION. THEY DO NOT HAVE YOUR WISDOM OR YOUR CARE AND THEY DO NOT COMFORT ME WHEN I WANT MY MOMMY. THEY DO NOT HAVE YOUR TOUCH, YOUR SMELL OR YOUR LOVE. THEY ARE NOTHING COMAPRED TO MEMORIES AND LOVE I HOLD FROM YOU IN MY HEART.
THORNDYKE AND ROSEBUD ARE DOING FINE AND HAVE BECOME A PART OF OUR FAMILY. KEN IS AMAZING AND CONTINUES TO TAKE SUCH GOOD CARE OF ME AND LOVE ME THE WAY YOU WANTED ME TO BE LOVED. IT ALL WORKS OUT IN THE END, AFTERALL, DOESN'T IT? I JUST WISH YOU WERE HERE TO SEE IT ALL, IN LIVING COLOR.
I LOVE YOU, TO THE MOON AND BACK.
Earlier this summer my best friend's mother passed away -- suddenly. While it was a no-brainer for me to drop things and be there for her and her family, it came at a personal cost. As I held her hand and hugged her, helped make phone calls and attended all the sad events that accompanied this tragedy, I was reliving my own mother's death minute by minute, partially because my own mother's death seems so recent, and also because I loved her Mom as a surrogate of sorts.
Each of us deals with life differently. No two deaths are alike, nor are our reactions. So as I watched my friend muttle through this and continue to see her depressed self make valiant efforts to move forward with daily activities, I kind of got caught up in her and her grief and helping in any way I could think of. My own grief resurfaced, but waited in the wings, as it had to do when my own mom first passed away.
I cannot remember the time after my Mom's death. I recall moments and major events, but nothing like day to day life. Upon discussing this with Ken, we realized that it was because I came back from my "burying" my mom to go back to work, face surgery of my own, and plan a wedding -- all within 2 months. Then life kind of took over... I blogged about my mom a few times, and it was painfully clear that I was sad and missing her. I do not think that I miss her more or less than anyone misses their mother when they go, but again, I think we all deal with it in our own ways.
To this day, I pull out all the love notes she sent me and left for me in hiding places to re-read them and smile. I love recalling wonderful childhood memories with her, and realizing now what an amazing job she did raising me. I can with clarity look back on her life, our life, and see where I lost my Mom to mental illness and where I just plain ol' lost my Mom.
People think of my relationship with her as acrimonius. And at times it was. We fought horribly and said mean and hurtful things to one another. She made intense and unrealistic demands on me and I continuously let her down, even on the small stuff and witheld my empathy in an attempt to separate myself from her. I was mean. But when it is all said and done, she was my Mom and I loved her more than I will ever be able to explain or maybe even understand, and I know she loved me.
I ache for her in a way that I cannot describe and wish in my truest of hearts that I could take away the pain that my friend is feeling. I wish that because I know the pain all too well. Maybe not the exact pain and in the exact way, but clos enough that I know I want to take it away from her. But then again, I wish I could take it away from myself.
Tuesday, Aug 19 will be two years ago that Leni K, my own personal Lulu Barlow, left this Earth. I take solace in the hope that she is in a better place and no longer in pain. That she is the Mom that I knew and loved and called my best friend, not because I had to, but because I really wanted to. I cannot tell you what I would give to have the phone ring and hear her voice on the other end or smell her perfume. I would gladly be late going somewhere so she could find just the right piece of jewelry to match the trim of her shirt or the right shade of lipstick. I would happily take a motherly check up call when I am not feeling my best.
As tomorrow approaches, the logical side of me notes that it is just another day and I should just move forward. But though it has been two years, it may as well have been yesterday. My heart phyiscally hurts and I just want to bring her back.
I am finally makign my way through her things and liquidating what I can in an attempt to just lessen the load so to speak. But as I do this, I cannot help but feel liKE I am liquidating parts of her. SO I am writing this tonight to tell her...
MOM, I LOVE YOU. I ALWAYS DID AND I ALWAYS WILL. I AM NOT GETTING RID OF YOU BY GETTING RID OF THESE THINGS, AS THAT IS WHAT THEY ARE, THINGS. THEY ARE NOT YOUR LOVE, YOUR HEART, YOUR COMPASSION. THEY DO NOT HAVE YOUR WISDOM OR YOUR CARE AND THEY DO NOT COMFORT ME WHEN I WANT MY MOMMY. THEY DO NOT HAVE YOUR TOUCH, YOUR SMELL OR YOUR LOVE. THEY ARE NOTHING COMAPRED TO MEMORIES AND LOVE I HOLD FROM YOU IN MY HEART.
THORNDYKE AND ROSEBUD ARE DOING FINE AND HAVE BECOME A PART OF OUR FAMILY. KEN IS AMAZING AND CONTINUES TO TAKE SUCH GOOD CARE OF ME AND LOVE ME THE WAY YOU WANTED ME TO BE LOVED. IT ALL WORKS OUT IN THE END, AFTERALL, DOESN'T IT? I JUST WISH YOU WERE HERE TO SEE IT ALL, IN LIVING COLOR.
I LOVE YOU, TO THE MOON AND BACK.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
A day like no other
The turkey is in its bath of brine.
The onions and celery are chopped for dressing.
The salad dressing is made and the recipes are all printed out.
Perhaps the day will come when this all seems like second nature. But for some reason, especially this year, I am feeling very out of place -- even in my own kitchen.
As it is after midnight, today is officially November 22. Mom, you would have been 65 today and we would have spent this past evening out to dinner at a lovely restaurant, celebrating your birthday and discussing all the preparations to be done for the joyous holiday that is to be tonight. Thanksgiving was always a very special holiday to you, and therefore to me, and this year it seems even more poignant, as it falls on your birthday.
The tears that flow at this hour are no longer from the onions, rather they are from a heart that is broken again that you are not here to complete the tradition that we so solemnly set forth to create. Thanksgiving was a day of thanks, for sure, but more than that, it was our day. I promise, while I will hold your memory near and dear, I will not sully it by making anything less than a fabulous holiday fete for all who join us.
As usual, we will be with family. Ken and I have forged a family unit as one that I am so proud of and thankful for. Ken's folks will be here, as will be a few close friends and a few "strays" who I just felt needed a place to land. Gee, I wonder where I learned that generosity of spirit.
Dad was going to join us, but due to some health issues, we all felt the drive was not in his best interest. We will see him next week and celebrate with him at that point.
I am going to sleep now, and will, no doubt, dream of happy Thanksgivings we shared and of course, all that there are still to be. When I wake, I will remember all the things I am most thankful for. But right now, at this moment, the only thing I see in front of me are my tears and a picture of you.
I love you Mom. Happy Thanksgiving, and Happy Birthday!
The onions and celery are chopped for dressing.
The salad dressing is made and the recipes are all printed out.
Perhaps the day will come when this all seems like second nature. But for some reason, especially this year, I am feeling very out of place -- even in my own kitchen.
As it is after midnight, today is officially November 22. Mom, you would have been 65 today and we would have spent this past evening out to dinner at a lovely restaurant, celebrating your birthday and discussing all the preparations to be done for the joyous holiday that is to be tonight. Thanksgiving was always a very special holiday to you, and therefore to me, and this year it seems even more poignant, as it falls on your birthday.
The tears that flow at this hour are no longer from the onions, rather they are from a heart that is broken again that you are not here to complete the tradition that we so solemnly set forth to create. Thanksgiving was a day of thanks, for sure, but more than that, it was our day. I promise, while I will hold your memory near and dear, I will not sully it by making anything less than a fabulous holiday fete for all who join us.
As usual, we will be with family. Ken and I have forged a family unit as one that I am so proud of and thankful for. Ken's folks will be here, as will be a few close friends and a few "strays" who I just felt needed a place to land. Gee, I wonder where I learned that generosity of spirit.
Dad was going to join us, but due to some health issues, we all felt the drive was not in his best interest. We will see him next week and celebrate with him at that point.
I am going to sleep now, and will, no doubt, dream of happy Thanksgivings we shared and of course, all that there are still to be. When I wake, I will remember all the things I am most thankful for. But right now, at this moment, the only thing I see in front of me are my tears and a picture of you.
I love you Mom. Happy Thanksgiving, and Happy Birthday!
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Here it comes...
This week has been active and busy as we start to prep for the onslaught of holidays that are heading our way. My Dad will be with us for Thanksgiving this year. It is his first time with me for the holiday, as Turkey day was always my Mom's holiday with me. I think I am nervous. First of all, he has never stayed with me before and is actually staying with me and Ken. Secondly, he has never had my cooking before. While I know I am a good cook, it is still a little unnerving. Finally, my Mom's birthday falls on Thanksgiving this year. She would have been 65 and I am already feeling a little blue about not getting to celebrate her very favorite days on the same day with her. You know? I do not want my sadness to overshadow my joy for sharing the holiday with my Dad, but at the same time, I do not want the joy of sharing it with my Dad to take away from the memories I celebrate with and of my Mom. I hope this makes sense. I mean, I know the logic of it all, but...
PS: Let's give this Q and A thing another go
Q: What is the farthest you have traveled to celebrate the holidays?
A: For me, personally, I have not ever had to travel very far. In College I had to drive from Fresno (Central CA) to Los Angeles and in my adult life, it has been pretty much the same. From Vegas to LA is only about 4.5 hours, and that is as far as I have had to go. Unlike my husband, who has had to do tons of traveling for the holidays. Hopefully, he will share some of his adventures with you all.
PS: Let's give this Q and A thing another go
Q: What is the farthest you have traveled to celebrate the holidays?
A: For me, personally, I have not ever had to travel very far. In College I had to drive from Fresno (Central CA) to Los Angeles and in my adult life, it has been pretty much the same. From Vegas to LA is only about 4.5 hours, and that is as far as I have had to go. Unlike my husband, who has had to do tons of traveling for the holidays. Hopefully, he will share some of his adventures with you all.
Wednesday, October 03, 2007
Thinking in overdrive -- long post
With all the changes I am making to my life in general; eating healthy, exercising, cleaning out stuff, etc., I am overcome with some recurring thoughts that have me nearly paralyzed.
What do I want to be when I grow up? I have had several thoughts and ideas , ranging from opening a store to free-lance writing to being a diabetic educator. But with time, each of these ideas has wavered or something else has perked my interest. I have been told that I would be a great party [planner, so that is a thought as well. All I know is that i want to feel successful. I want to be the go-to girl for something. You know what I mean?
How is my health and my history going to effect our options for children. I am not sure I have shared it yet, but we were told that due to my health, my carrying a child and delivering could prove fatal -- to me and the baby. As a result we have decided to adopt. But I know that here is serious background checking that goes on, from health to credit history. I lay awake at night sometimes wondering if my health alone would be reason enough for someone to not allow us to adopt a baby that I know we would love so much. I guess time will tell on that one.
Is this new found love of healthy living just a phase? Did I get excited at first and will I just let it all wilt away like I have so many other things I am so gung ho about? Part of it is fear of failure, but some of it is fear of success I think. My health is not a part time gig, nor is it something that is going to miraculously repair itself. I have lived with lupus for 24 years with no infinite restrictions, but diabetes is a whole new thing. I do not to have it ravage me like I have seen it do to others before, but is this a vigilant fight I will always have to fight? I imagine I will grow tired at some point.
My Dad is not doing well. There is nothing wrong per-sey, he is relatively healthy, aside from some chronic issues, and he is leading a very independent life. But I worry about him. Just as I worried about my Mom, I think that Dad is lonely sometimes. It makes me sad that there is nothing I can do. My sister and I are the only two members of the big K family that live out of the area, so Dad does not get to have as much family time as his brothers have with their kids. I worry about his work, his lack of preparation for retirement and his very strong work ethic and sense of pride. He rarely lets me in and would balk if I offered to help. So I sit by and tel him I love him and visit when I can.
Finally, is there an afterlife, and if there is, can my Mom see everything I am doing? Would she approve? Would she agree with the decisions I have made? I don't need her approval, I know, but she was such an imperative part of my life that it feels weird to be doing so much and not getting her opinions. IN fact, I had a dream about her the other day in which she weighed in on all of it. The only thing she did not like was my hair. Otherwise all was well. I wonder if I willed this dream because I miss her so much, or if it was possibly her way of letting me know what is the down low. Hmmm .
These are the things that keep me up at night and keep my gears burning on all cylinders -- overthinking.
What do I want to be when I grow up? I have had several thoughts and ideas , ranging from opening a store to free-lance writing to being a diabetic educator. But with time, each of these ideas has wavered or something else has perked my interest. I have been told that I would be a great party [planner, so that is a thought as well. All I know is that i want to feel successful. I want to be the go-to girl for something. You know what I mean?
How is my health and my history going to effect our options for children. I am not sure I have shared it yet, but we were told that due to my health, my carrying a child and delivering could prove fatal -- to me and the baby. As a result we have decided to adopt. But I know that here is serious background checking that goes on, from health to credit history. I lay awake at night sometimes wondering if my health alone would be reason enough for someone to not allow us to adopt a baby that I know we would love so much. I guess time will tell on that one.
Is this new found love of healthy living just a phase? Did I get excited at first and will I just let it all wilt away like I have so many other things I am so gung ho about? Part of it is fear of failure, but some of it is fear of success I think. My health is not a part time gig, nor is it something that is going to miraculously repair itself. I have lived with lupus for 24 years with no infinite restrictions, but diabetes is a whole new thing. I do not to have it ravage me like I have seen it do to others before, but is this a vigilant fight I will always have to fight? I imagine I will grow tired at some point.
My Dad is not doing well. There is nothing wrong per-sey, he is relatively healthy, aside from some chronic issues, and he is leading a very independent life. But I worry about him. Just as I worried about my Mom, I think that Dad is lonely sometimes. It makes me sad that there is nothing I can do. My sister and I are the only two members of the big K family that live out of the area, so Dad does not get to have as much family time as his brothers have with their kids. I worry about his work, his lack of preparation for retirement and his very strong work ethic and sense of pride. He rarely lets me in and would balk if I offered to help. So I sit by and tel him I love him and visit when I can.
Finally, is there an afterlife, and if there is, can my Mom see everything I am doing? Would she approve? Would she agree with the decisions I have made? I don't need her approval, I know, but she was such an imperative part of my life that it feels weird to be doing so much and not getting her opinions. IN fact, I had a dream about her the other day in which she weighed in on all of it. The only thing she did not like was my hair. Otherwise all was well. I wonder if I willed this dream because I miss her so much, or if it was possibly her way of letting me know what is the down low. Hmmm .
These are the things that keep me up at night and keep my gears burning on all cylinders -- overthinking.
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