![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thedarksiren2If you really want to know what's up my arse, look at the following:
MOURNING
(written a little less than a year ago...)
Let me start by saying that, if you don't have the time or patience to deal with some pretty heavy thoughts, then this is not for you. Stop now, go away. But I needed to get this out because I am just heartbroken over some terrible news I received today about a wonderful, extraordinary person, and I need to get all of this out of my system to the best of my ability.
For those of you who stick around, thank you in advance.
Let me start from a strange beginning:
As many of you know, I work with the mentally retarded/ developmentally disabled. I started working in this field just after I graduated high school, and all together it's been 7+ years. I began at a facility in Mantua (AKA Nowhere) OH called The Hattie-Larlham Foundation, working with children, ages 6 months to 18 years old. There were a few exceptions to the age rule, but in general, once an individual turned 18, they were to move out into a group home setting. One such exception, however, was a wonderful woman, Andrea Steel, whom I came to think of like a child of my own, even though she was 24 at the time.
Andrea, like so many of the other individuals I worked with at Hattie's, was wheelchair-bound for life. Her family, with the exception of her grandmother, Milly (A short version of the truly musical name, Mildelerion) had no involvement, and even Milly's was minimal at best. Andrea also had many health problems, her body's trunk area hunched, and causing pressure on her lungs; her teeth protruded from her mouth, never allowing it to close. Still, she had a beautiful smile, a real smile that just touched you in all the right places. You knew she was happy, and her eyes shone to let you know she liked you...almost glowed. And just like most individuals with MR/DD, she was smart, and just needed someone to pay close enough attention to understand who she was and what it was she wanted and/ or needed, not an easy task considering she was non-verbal and mostly non-vocal as well.
But she was smart, and I paid attention. She paid attention too. It was such a funny coincidence that, every year when the state surveyors would come to evaluate her health, to see if she should be transferred to a group home, Andrea would suddenly fall horribly ill. The men would mutter amongst themselves, nod their heads while we stood there watching, and agree that they would come back the following year to evaluate her again, but for now, she would be staying at Hattie's. And as the men would leave, and we all returned to our daily duties as caregivers, it could be heard throughout our part of the building, that "hee! hee! hee!"ing, kind of like that dog in Snaggle Tooth, or maybe it was Snaggle-Tooth himself? I don’t know, just that there wasn't an actual voice, just aggressive air coming out of her lungs as she chuckled triumphantly...she would be staying in the only place she'd known as home for years, with the only people she knew as family, the ones who loved her.
I loved Andrea with all of my being, I can tell you that much for certain. What I cannot tell you is why someone could neglect her, enough so that she would suffocate and die one tragic night while I sang at a coffee shop. My friend actually called me from Hattie's, knowing where I was, and that I would want to see her before they came to take her body away to the funeral home.
I remember going to Andrea's wake a few days later. Her family, or at least her blood-relatives, were all there, dressed in their funeral-finest with all their nice clothes and jewels and pretty veils and hats. They all cried on one another's shoulders...it was rather surreal, considering that in the 2.5 years I had worked with Andrea I had never seen or heard of any of these people. Oh, and how I loathed them that day! I walked over to her casket...even with all the make-up, I could see the swelling and bruises that were left over from the mortician having to break her jaw so that her lips could close and be sewn shut forever. She still looked like she was smiling though, like she was holding something back, a secret about life or something.
I had nightmares for several weeks after that; I would walk up to her casket, thinking she looked as though she were about to laugh or smile again when Andrea would suddenly sit up in her coffin and smile, ripping the stitches away in bloody gore, eyes wide and wild and horrifying.
I have only gone to two wakes since Andrea's back in 1995.
So, last week I am pulling down my street and this girl asks me if I can give her a ride down the street. You see, she had been standing in the rain for 45 minutes waiting for the bus, and she didn't really want to wait anymore. I said sure, and gave her a ride. No biggie.
The following day, she sees me getting into my car from the corner and asks for yet another ride. It wasn't raining, and I was running late, but figured I would at least drop her off halfway. As we are in the car, she explains to me that she works at the daycare behind my house. I tell her that was very cool, and ask her name.
"My name is Milly...nice to meet you," she says. I smile, introducing myself as well, and go through my day remembering Andrea Steel, and all her goodness and purity, and her real, touching smile.
Funny, how the smallest things can trigger such amazing recollections.
A few months ago, probably the end of March, this girl by the name of Andrea Strnad came into the club where I DJ with a monstrous bag of CDs, explaining that she was trying to sort of cleanse herself of materialistic things because she was moving. I picked out roughly 9 CDs, telling her to please hold them till the end of the week.
When I arrived at Andrea's house, it was a shambles...moving seemed to overwhelm her, yet she had this positive, glowing outlook on things. She was excited, going to live in a large home with several other people. She was what I think of as a hippie-chic, very earthy, with long blonde hair, glasses, broomstick skirt, no make-up; she never seemed to stop smiling. She explained to me that, she really didn't care so much about the money, but that I would honestly enjoy the CDs and listen to them. I handed her a check, and assured her that I would. We spent about two hours just chatting, and I can honestly say that there have been few people in my life that I have felt so at ease with after only one prior meeting.
Andrea came to Jay's and my housewarming fiesta back in May, home made humus and hand picked fresh chives in hand. It was a very thoughtful gesture, considering she hardly knew me, and had never met my roommate Jay. But she just said it was no big deal, smiling timidly, obviously nervous, not knowing who or what to expect at a strange house full of strangers.
Andrea made friends that night, I believe. She seemed to have a good time...I hope that she did. Her presence was certainly known, and her simplicity and purity really touched my heart. There were no fake lines or walls to overcome...she was just real, and a beautiful human being.
Jay and I have had this Thank-You card for her since about a week after the party. Andrea and I played phone tag for a while, but neither of us won.
The game ended today, however. When I got home and checked my messages, Andrea’s roommate, Meagan, had called, telling me to get in contact ASAP. I spoke to Meagan's mom on the phone, who informed me that Andrea had passed away this past Thursday due to internal injuries as a result of a fall. She was 23.
I never got to thank her for her kindness, for just being who she is/ was. I guess it may seem ridiculous to some people, that I am so upset about someone dying that I hardly knew, but in the time I knew Andrea Strnad, what I knew of her...she was just good, real...honest. She cared so much! She worked at a battered women's shelter, she was concerned and passionate about the environment (we had this AMAZING discussion about the ancient trees on the west coast, and the people who live in them to stop them from getting torn down {and if you know me in any real way you know I am passionate about trees!}) She called me one weekend not too long ago to tell me about a street fair going on and a drum circle that night...I had other plans, went camping that weekend. Just a thoughtful, good, passionate person, one who made me want to be a better person, and she died so young!
I guess I am just torn...part of me wants to actually go to her wake, to see her and tell her that I thought she was a magnificent part of the human race. Of course, I work tomorrow during her wake, so it's not even possible. But the yearning is there, and it's disturbing to me somehow.
Her funeral is on Tuesday...I will be going to that no matter what. I at least want to tell her mother what a gift she gave to the world in Andrea, and give her the Thank-You card. I suppose that is the best thing to do with it.
This just wrecks me somehow...and so I feel the need to tell you all thank you for who you are and all you contribute to my life. It is my friends and family who really make me who I am, and I am so lucky to be surrounded by such beautiful and amazing people, and with so much to give! I am thankful to have you all in my life, and I am soooo sorry if I have never made that more abundantly clear before. But each of you means a lot to me, regardless of how often I say so. I still pay a lot of attention, particularly to all the little things...those are the sparks that create the fire in my spirit! And I am so happy to be alive, and to have you in my life.
* * *
THIS is why I get so bent out of shape when people bug me about not seeing them enough. THIS is why I am stressed...here is an example of someone who was amazing to know; her funeral had all walks of life attending, and it was painfully obvious what a glorious creature she was to all who knew her. I just never had the time to know her more because I was too busy being a social butterfly. And one of the hardest things for me to accept in my life is that I made that mistake.
So when I say I am not going out, it is not because I do not want to see people, it's that I am likely seeing those I am closest to, and cherish with all my being.
Don't be offended, don't give me shit. I will resent you for it if you do.
I'm sick and fuzzucked in the head like that.
For those of you who have been patient enough to understand what I am doing with myself, with my life, and still remain my friends, thank you thank you thank you!
I am going to go be productive now.
MOURNING
(written a little less than a year ago...)
Let me start by saying that, if you don't have the time or patience to deal with some pretty heavy thoughts, then this is not for you. Stop now, go away. But I needed to get this out because I am just heartbroken over some terrible news I received today about a wonderful, extraordinary person, and I need to get all of this out of my system to the best of my ability.
For those of you who stick around, thank you in advance.
Let me start from a strange beginning:
As many of you know, I work with the mentally retarded/ developmentally disabled. I started working in this field just after I graduated high school, and all together it's been 7+ years. I began at a facility in Mantua (AKA Nowhere) OH called The Hattie-Larlham Foundation, working with children, ages 6 months to 18 years old. There were a few exceptions to the age rule, but in general, once an individual turned 18, they were to move out into a group home setting. One such exception, however, was a wonderful woman, Andrea Steel, whom I came to think of like a child of my own, even though she was 24 at the time.
Andrea, like so many of the other individuals I worked with at Hattie's, was wheelchair-bound for life. Her family, with the exception of her grandmother, Milly (A short version of the truly musical name, Mildelerion) had no involvement, and even Milly's was minimal at best. Andrea also had many health problems, her body's trunk area hunched, and causing pressure on her lungs; her teeth protruded from her mouth, never allowing it to close. Still, she had a beautiful smile, a real smile that just touched you in all the right places. You knew she was happy, and her eyes shone to let you know she liked you...almost glowed. And just like most individuals with MR/DD, she was smart, and just needed someone to pay close enough attention to understand who she was and what it was she wanted and/ or needed, not an easy task considering she was non-verbal and mostly non-vocal as well.
But she was smart, and I paid attention. She paid attention too. It was such a funny coincidence that, every year when the state surveyors would come to evaluate her health, to see if she should be transferred to a group home, Andrea would suddenly fall horribly ill. The men would mutter amongst themselves, nod their heads while we stood there watching, and agree that they would come back the following year to evaluate her again, but for now, she would be staying at Hattie's. And as the men would leave, and we all returned to our daily duties as caregivers, it could be heard throughout our part of the building, that "hee! hee! hee!"ing, kind of like that dog in Snaggle Tooth, or maybe it was Snaggle-Tooth himself? I don’t know, just that there wasn't an actual voice, just aggressive air coming out of her lungs as she chuckled triumphantly...she would be staying in the only place she'd known as home for years, with the only people she knew as family, the ones who loved her.
I loved Andrea with all of my being, I can tell you that much for certain. What I cannot tell you is why someone could neglect her, enough so that she would suffocate and die one tragic night while I sang at a coffee shop. My friend actually called me from Hattie's, knowing where I was, and that I would want to see her before they came to take her body away to the funeral home.
I remember going to Andrea's wake a few days later. Her family, or at least her blood-relatives, were all there, dressed in their funeral-finest with all their nice clothes and jewels and pretty veils and hats. They all cried on one another's shoulders...it was rather surreal, considering that in the 2.5 years I had worked with Andrea I had never seen or heard of any of these people. Oh, and how I loathed them that day! I walked over to her casket...even with all the make-up, I could see the swelling and bruises that were left over from the mortician having to break her jaw so that her lips could close and be sewn shut forever. She still looked like she was smiling though, like she was holding something back, a secret about life or something.
I had nightmares for several weeks after that; I would walk up to her casket, thinking she looked as though she were about to laugh or smile again when Andrea would suddenly sit up in her coffin and smile, ripping the stitches away in bloody gore, eyes wide and wild and horrifying.
I have only gone to two wakes since Andrea's back in 1995.
So, last week I am pulling down my street and this girl asks me if I can give her a ride down the street. You see, she had been standing in the rain for 45 minutes waiting for the bus, and she didn't really want to wait anymore. I said sure, and gave her a ride. No biggie.
The following day, she sees me getting into my car from the corner and asks for yet another ride. It wasn't raining, and I was running late, but figured I would at least drop her off halfway. As we are in the car, she explains to me that she works at the daycare behind my house. I tell her that was very cool, and ask her name.
"My name is Milly...nice to meet you," she says. I smile, introducing myself as well, and go through my day remembering Andrea Steel, and all her goodness and purity, and her real, touching smile.
Funny, how the smallest things can trigger such amazing recollections.
A few months ago, probably the end of March, this girl by the name of Andrea Strnad came into the club where I DJ with a monstrous bag of CDs, explaining that she was trying to sort of cleanse herself of materialistic things because she was moving. I picked out roughly 9 CDs, telling her to please hold them till the end of the week.
When I arrived at Andrea's house, it was a shambles...moving seemed to overwhelm her, yet she had this positive, glowing outlook on things. She was excited, going to live in a large home with several other people. She was what I think of as a hippie-chic, very earthy, with long blonde hair, glasses, broomstick skirt, no make-up; she never seemed to stop smiling. She explained to me that, she really didn't care so much about the money, but that I would honestly enjoy the CDs and listen to them. I handed her a check, and assured her that I would. We spent about two hours just chatting, and I can honestly say that there have been few people in my life that I have felt so at ease with after only one prior meeting.
Andrea came to Jay's and my housewarming fiesta back in May, home made humus and hand picked fresh chives in hand. It was a very thoughtful gesture, considering she hardly knew me, and had never met my roommate Jay. But she just said it was no big deal, smiling timidly, obviously nervous, not knowing who or what to expect at a strange house full of strangers.
Andrea made friends that night, I believe. She seemed to have a good time...I hope that she did. Her presence was certainly known, and her simplicity and purity really touched my heart. There were no fake lines or walls to overcome...she was just real, and a beautiful human being.
Jay and I have had this Thank-You card for her since about a week after the party. Andrea and I played phone tag for a while, but neither of us won.
The game ended today, however. When I got home and checked my messages, Andrea’s roommate, Meagan, had called, telling me to get in contact ASAP. I spoke to Meagan's mom on the phone, who informed me that Andrea had passed away this past Thursday due to internal injuries as a result of a fall. She was 23.
I never got to thank her for her kindness, for just being who she is/ was. I guess it may seem ridiculous to some people, that I am so upset about someone dying that I hardly knew, but in the time I knew Andrea Strnad, what I knew of her...she was just good, real...honest. She cared so much! She worked at a battered women's shelter, she was concerned and passionate about the environment (we had this AMAZING discussion about the ancient trees on the west coast, and the people who live in them to stop them from getting torn down {and if you know me in any real way you know I am passionate about trees!}) She called me one weekend not too long ago to tell me about a street fair going on and a drum circle that night...I had other plans, went camping that weekend. Just a thoughtful, good, passionate person, one who made me want to be a better person, and she died so young!
I guess I am just torn...part of me wants to actually go to her wake, to see her and tell her that I thought she was a magnificent part of the human race. Of course, I work tomorrow during her wake, so it's not even possible. But the yearning is there, and it's disturbing to me somehow.
Her funeral is on Tuesday...I will be going to that no matter what. I at least want to tell her mother what a gift she gave to the world in Andrea, and give her the Thank-You card. I suppose that is the best thing to do with it.
This just wrecks me somehow...and so I feel the need to tell you all thank you for who you are and all you contribute to my life. It is my friends and family who really make me who I am, and I am so lucky to be surrounded by such beautiful and amazing people, and with so much to give! I am thankful to have you all in my life, and I am soooo sorry if I have never made that more abundantly clear before. But each of you means a lot to me, regardless of how often I say so. I still pay a lot of attention, particularly to all the little things...those are the sparks that create the fire in my spirit! And I am so happy to be alive, and to have you in my life.
THIS is why I get so bent out of shape when people bug me about not seeing them enough. THIS is why I am stressed...here is an example of someone who was amazing to know; her funeral had all walks of life attending, and it was painfully obvious what a glorious creature she was to all who knew her. I just never had the time to know her more because I was too busy being a social butterfly. And one of the hardest things for me to accept in my life is that I made that mistake.
So when I say I am not going out, it is not because I do not want to see people, it's that I am likely seeing those I am closest to, and cherish with all my being.
Don't be offended, don't give me shit. I will resent you for it if you do.
I'm sick and fuzzucked in the head like that.
For those of you who have been patient enough to understand what I am doing with myself, with my life, and still remain my friends, thank you thank you thank you!
I am going to go be productive now.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
...
Date: 2002-05-16 02:31 pm (UTC)the tape i have of hers is still in my car, every time i play it i thought of her and wondered where she went to.
wow.
hugs to you. and wow. please giver her family and friends my condolences.
Re: ...
Date: 2002-05-16 04:19 pm (UTC)I did send her mother a letter of condolences, including a printout of the e-mail above. I never heard back from her though.
no subject
Date: 2002-05-16 04:08 pm (UTC)There's not much more that's difficult than losing someone so young.
She made a real impact on you...and I have tears in my eyes from reading this.
no subject
Date: 2002-05-16 07:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-05-17 05:05 am (UTC)That's all I can really say. Someday I'll tell the story of Alexis.
*hugs*
Date: 2002-05-17 06:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-05-17 07:05 am (UTC)We all need time to be away from others..."me" time is essential.
Makes the time we have with you that much more speshul. :)
no subject
Date: 2002-05-17 07:02 pm (UTC)*hugs*