perhaps one of the reasons why

After about 4 weeks, the full body cast had finally come off and my atrophied legs didn’t quite feel like my own. They were these strange limbs that were attached to my hips, but sure didn’t feel like much. They looked small and felt weak. But, they were mine. And they were healing. My 2 roken legs were now unbroken. I remained having to use a wheelchair until I could walk again. The bigger people in my family would sometimes carry me from car to house or room to room, but I was itching to use my own power to ambulate and feel my own 2 feet on the ground. One early evening, I was in the living room while grandma was in the kitchen cooking, cleaning. I don’t recall anyone else being in the house at the time. I was wearing my pajamas; blue and pink stripped bottom pajama pants  (perhaps this was the beginning of my sense of style!) and sitting in an oversized chair. I have no recollection as to what my thoughts or feelings were at that exact moment, I just remember what I did.

I got up. I rose.

I got my balance by holding on to something on both sides of me.

I took a step. And then another one. I was walking.

“Grandma!” I yelled. “I’m doing it. I’m walking.” 

A part of me

Everything is familiar. Everything is new. I am new. I am not the same. I am the same. Same in my core. ANGIE. I am the same. I am different. I grew. I grew up. I got big.

On Wednesday, February 1st, I made my final cross country drive into the SF Bay Area. I passed town after town and recalled some memories of the places I had passed. I noticed how some places hadn’t changed at all and others, drastically so. Some needed, some not. Needed.

I knew when I woke up where I wanted to go first. Where I NEEDED to go. First.
I had to go see a couple of crazy ladies and say hello.
Mom and grandma. I hadn’t been to see them in quite a while. Grandma died in 2000, but I was not able to get her name on the stone for a long time, so this was my first time seeing the stone with her name added. I walked around, found their spot, stood there, and smiled while tears welled in my eyes.
I instinctively raised my arms wide and said these words: “I’m back. I grew up. I got big. I got bigger.”
The sun was shining on my cheeks and I felt comforted. In the sea of the departed, beauty surrounded and engulfed me. I felt tall. Taller.
I smiled and squated so I could lean over and try to clear some debris from the headstone. My fingers brushing on and over the perfect etchings of their names, dates of birth. Death. Every letter so perfectly aligned. Neat. Tidy. Exact. So un-like life. Ironic.
I sat with the wonderful quiet that falls over Holy Sepulchure and gazed in silence. Then, I stood up and looked at my loved ones. “I want you to know I have people in my life who love and care about me. And I am ok. I think you would be proud of me. The person I have become.”
I left a piece of me, for them, and slowy walked away. Feeling full.

Catapult

CATAPULT; to thrust, move suddenly or quickly

I first came to Atlanta in 1999, July. Moved here from San Francisco, which always surprises people. WHY would you move from San Francisco to Atlanta? It’s not an easy thing to explain, but I will try….see if you can follow along. 🙂

I had been to Atlanta twice before moving and had spent time here and LOVED it. The landscape is unlike anything out west. A bounty of trees, so damn lush and gorgeous. Maybe like a drop dead gorgeous woman so that when you see her, you just stop and stare. Soak her in. That is the Atlanta landscape. (not so much in winter, but you get the picture)

Atlanta is enough Southern so that one does feel it, in a good way. The slower pace, the true Southern Ways. You know..people of all ages addressing one as “ma’am” and “sir”. I find it endearing. People are kind here…and yes, many Southern Charmers. And contrary to popular misconceptions, Atlanta is VERY metropolitan. Very. Even more so now than when i moved here in 1999.

So…that is a little of what DREW me to this Southern City. Looking back, I also believe I needed to leave the Bay Area, which is more accurate to say. I didn’t leave San Francisco. I left the Bay Area. I left the Bay Area that had had so many very difficult memories for me. Very difficult and very painful. If you know my story, you understand. One might say I was “running” away from them, but I don’t see it that way. I really view it as something I needed to do for me. I needed to leave the nest. Surprisingly, it was pretty easy to leave. I was excited for an entire new place, new opportunities and to see what I could do on my own. I am a firm and loud believer in wandering. I think more people should do it. You can discover a lot about yourself while wandering. I, was wandering…

Almost 13 years have now passed. Wow. In many ways, I feel like I really “grew up” here in Atlanta. Became an adult. Been very focused on my career and have enjoyed that process. My running has also truly accelerated here. I did my first BIG RACE in January 1999 (before moving) in San Francisco; The Home Depot Half-Marathon. My finish time was 2:01:43 — a record i am still trying to break! After that race, I was hooked and proceeded to run and run while living in Atlanta. Luckily for me, my living situation/income etc has allowed me to travel for many races. 13 years later. Still very much hooked on the running.

One of the biggest issues of my life has been a constant nagging feeling of feeling like i belong anywhere. I think maybe we all have one or two or three or…nagging issues, don’t we?? Well, this is mine. It’s been huge. It is constant and can be a real freakin’ downer. DOWNER!

Well…I realize that I have a part in perpetuating this feeling. Some of it is real and true and some of it is stuff I create. There are people who know me, who really know me. Who really love me. And I have chosen to be far away from them. Well, that will certainly help me feel like i don’t belong and not connected. Duh!

Throughout my years in Atlanta, I have been unhappy on a deeper, spiritual level. For whatever reason, I have not been able to create the kind of relationships or community that helps sustain me on the inside and I think we all need that as part of our life. I read back to journals from 3, 5 years ago and read where I question why i am still living in Atlanta. Obviously, living here for as long as I have, there have been reasons for me to stay. I have been fulfilled here it some ways, but ultimately, for me, it has been like a spiritual desert. Over these 13 years, I have traveled back to the Bay Area to visit friends and more and more, those visits have provided me with a shot of the best juice i could possibly give myself. And it hasn’t just been my friends…it’s been the place…the San Francisco Bay Area…the water, the culture, the diversity, the abundance of so many good things….I kept going back to visit to get INJECTIONS of all this good stuff. Each time I have been back, over the last 5 years especially, I appreciate the place more and more. There is truly no place like it. I’ve been around the country a few times, so i feel i can legitimacy say those words! Back in October/November, I was having one of the worst times of my life and where did I seek comfort and nourishment…back in the Bay Area with my friends, who are my family. This past year, 2011, I traveled to the Bay Area 4 times. I finally got the message.

Things in my work environment have changed and it’s definitely time for me to leave a situation. It definitely has had good points, but I think when one becomes quiet enough, the message is there in the quiet, inner space. My message has been to leave a situation that no longer suits me. A relationship at work that is no longer serving me. Sometimes, we just have to move on and that’s what it is for me. Time to move on.

So. Yes. I am going home. Finally going home. I’m excited and a bit nervous, but mostly excited. I’ve been thinking about this for a loooong time and finally have gotten the courage to take the leap. As mentioned, 2011 was a tough year. However, it was a spontaneous meeting by the water with a friend with a red rooster in my hand that helped catapult this decision. At that moment, my year changed and ultimately, the direction of my life.

With a deep breath, I look forward to 2012 and all of its challenges and opportunities and adventures. I hope you’ll follow me along the way.

Onward…

p.s. so much more to say, but will save for a later time

On the other side…

‘Usually an insect will enter into a Cocoon so that they will be protected from a harsh or unfriendly environment.’

So…the accident happened in late Aug 1983. I was 12. I think I was in the hospital for about 6 weeks, including my 13th birthday. Here’s one of the only pictures I have from that day. As crazy and tragic as everything was, I have to tell you how happy I was during my hospital time…at least the parts I remember.

See, I went from car accident to hospital and I don’t recall anything of the actual event. My last memory on that quiet Sunday was stopping at a McDonalds approx 5-7 miles from the site. I gained consciousness 2 days later and awoke in ICU. I missed the funeral.(this would come back to haunt me, literally!)  I never saw anything or had to deal with anything. I was healing and friends & family came to visit all the time. I had an AMAZING group of nurses, doctors, and fellow patients who I became close to. Whenever I look back on that time in my life, all I remember is love. Feeling so loved. It was like I was in a little cocoon…being protected from what lie out there in the big, bad world.

The picture above was my birthday present from the nurses, (i think). It was my very first boom-box. A JVC Single Tape Deck AF/FM Boom-Box. Man, I loved that thing. The staff also rented the FLASHDANCE video, wheeled my bed into the “game room” and a bunch of us enjoyed movie afternoon. An awesome birthday.

Too bad the above picture doesn’t show my full body. Both legs were in traction from broken femurs and I also had broken left arm. By the time the photo was taken, the pin was removed from my arm and I was undergoing physical therapy . I had actually crushed my elbow so full extension was the main issue. Docs had removed chest tube from my collapsed lung and removed the staple stitches from abdomen area where they had removed my spleen. When I had gained consciousness in ICU and looked at my stomach area and saw the staple stitches, I was mortified. It looked like there were insects on my stomach in the formation of a sideways T. Creepy, ugly, mysterious. Maybe if I get brave enough, I will take a photo of the scar and post. Hey, you gotta show your war wounds, right?? I love scars!!

So, now you know a bit more of what happened and why i feel so freaking LUCKY!! and Blessed. Do what you gotta do. Live how you want to. Don’t let anyone ever stop you from doing what you want to do…most of all YOURSELF.

laying her to rest, finally

Way back in September 2000, my grandma died. I flew back to the Bay Area to be with my sister and help with everything. It was such a weird feeling to endure this with my sister…us having suffered so much loss already, but we were too young during those times to really remember. Well, there we were, all grown up, and needing to take care of grandma. In some ways, I felt like we were catapulted back to early years….but then we couldn’t be…there was no time. Decisions had to be made and even though some of grandma’s relatives were alive, no one stepped up to help. When you are 25 and 30 years old, you don’t expect to have to do all that shit by yourself; the mortuary, the church stuff, the burial, etc….it’s a lot to to deal with when you are shocked, saddened, angry, etc…at the loss that has taken place. But, again…you don’t have time for that. Gotta get stuff done. So, we did.

At that time in my life, I had no money. So, grandma’s mortuary bill went on a credit card. Not cheap. She wanted to be buried and since she had bought a double plot when mom died, whoever died next in our immediate family would be the one to fill that spot. slot. I thought all that was paid for….but when we went to the cemetery, somehow, there was a small balance to pay. Well, about $1500. Swipe the credit card. So, I guess all in all, it ended up costing me about $5000. My sister couldn’t help pay for any of it and I didn’t want her to. I don’t know why, but i was truly shocked when NONE of grandma’s relatives offered to help in any way. Not only did they not offer, none of them never even inquired as to how things were being paid for or who was paying. (I’m glad they are not in my life…glad I won’t die on their watch..)

Anyway…so, when we were at the Cemetery and finalizing all of the logistics, it occurred to me that we would have to pay more money to get grandma’s name and date of birth/date of death on the headstone. At the time, I figured we could pass on that and get it done later. Maybe someone else could pay or I would just pay for it later. Well, 9 years later, I finally got it done. On 12/30/09, I called the monument company across the street from Cemetery and got it all taken care of…cost was $325. I honestly don’t know why I have waited so long. I’ve had the money to pay…maybe it hasn’t always been at the forefront of my mind since I am 3000 miles away…but, It has bothered me. I have felt extremely guilty leaving grandma there, nameless. She was kinda like “tomb of the unknown soldier”. Well, no more. Her beautiful name will now be there right underneath her daughter. I wonder how it’s going for them down there..up there…being so close together again…wonder if they are laughing, fighting…

Well, all I know is that I am so relieved to have this done. On my next trip to the Bay Area, i sure as hell will make a visit to the cemetery and sit for awhile.

I hope grams forgives me. And I hope she is resting, peacefully.

Remembering Grams

I remember….walking with you to Safeway &  Longs Drugs store. We would often take your wiry shopping cart and head out along Park Blvd. We would pass our church, St Leanders, and sometimes stop in to light a candle for those you had lost. Being so young, I never thought I would later in life light candles for both you and mom. Surely you didn’t think you would light a candle for your daughter….

Did we talk along the way? I don’t remember conversations, i just remember me and you and our journeys together. It was like our time, our ritual.

I loved going into Longs Drugs with you. Those stores are now few and far between. Here, in Atlanta, we have stores called CVS and Walgreens. (In fact, Walgreen just bought Longs, so their name might be completely gone by now…sadly). Anyways, I just remember being in that store and going through the candy isle, the card isle, the shampoo isle…something about it was oh so comforting. If it was near the holiday time, you would pick up two of your holiday staple treats; a good sized can of Almond Roca and a tin of butter cookies. Ahhh….yum! Still, two of my favorite treats to have at ANY time.

You walked EVERYWHERE or took the bus, the BART. Eventually, you revealed that you didn’t know how to drive…never got your drivers license. You walked to your jobs…those where you cleaned and took care of women who were older than you. Sometimes you had to stay for the weekend and I would visit with you and help clean. I looked forward to it not only for the money you would share, but because it was something different to do and I got to see someone else’s house and how they lived. Since these were people who could not do a lot for themselves, I got the sense that their death was not too far away…and often times the odor of near death would hover in the air. Still. I didn’t mind being there with you. You always seemed to enjoy your job and your connection to those you took care of. Who knew that in a few short years you would be taking care of me…

After being released from the hospital, I went to live with you, yet still had to be in a hospital bed. There it was, front and center, in the living room. Where else would we put it? There was no more room!  We had lots of time to spend together now! I was supposed to have a school tutor since I was missing the beginning of my 7th grade school year, but many days, you and I called in “sick” for me. Hee Heee. I loved that. What did we do instead? Well, we watched Soap Operas, of course. Our favorite shows; All My Children and General Hospital. You would make me one of my favorite things to eat: a cheese quesadilla in a corn tortilla. Gooey cheese would explode on one end as i bit the other side. YUM.

Hard to remember what else we did all day while I was laid up in that bed for a month or so! I’m now in my 39th year so my memory is failing a little… There were days I remember you cooking up a storm. You would spend all day making a big pot of beans, spanish rice, tamales, enchiladas…I would help you “clean” the beans. Do you remember that, grams? Um….still have yet to have a single Tamale as good as yours!

You were a Folgers drinker. As loyal and as addicted as I am to Peets, you were to Folgers. Every morning, you would boil the water for your coffee and then put it into your little cup with a saucer. Who uses saucers? You would add a little milk, no sugar. Then you might look at some of your religious books you received in the mail or pay bills or just sit. Always at the kitchen table. I don’t think you ever sat anywhere else while sipping your coffee. Me? At my home desk, sitting on the carpet, the sofa.

Oh my gosh. You were a pack rat. You had all these piles of magazines and little books all over the place. I hate to say, THIS, I inherited from you. I am STILL trying to rid myself of this! I have boxes of newspaper articles from years ago…all sports related. Why do i keep them? I have piles of running magazines both in view and in boxes. Why? why? why? Well, if i tried to throw away any of your Sunset or Readers Digest mags, you would scold me and tell me even though you don’t look at them every day, there is something in them you might want to go back and read sometime. And there lies the answer. Damn you.

I’m happy to report that unlike you, I do not have a dresser top filled with bottles of lotions, perfumes, gobs of lipsticks, rouge, and anything else cosmetic related. Why did you have all that shit? I don’t think I EVER saw you wearing makeup!  Looking at your dresser made me crazy but also made me laugh. Even now!

You liked your beer. Olympia (no longer in existence), Coors. You liked your brandy. E&J. And sometimes, you liked your whiskey. Kesslers. Did you ever drink Margaritas? I’m sorry we never got to have a drink together. I would have liked that. Often times when you were into your whiskey you would start semi-dancing and babble on about god knows what….you would keep saying, “That’s a baba”. Cracked us all up. Never found out what that meant. You would never say…although now i think it was just something you made up you crazy lady.

As time passed, you aged. Before my eyes and between the distances of where we lived, you moved much slower, seldom walked and even seldom talked, I think. All I wanted was for you to stick around long enough to see me graduate from college. Do you remember me asking…er…TELLING you to stick around. “Grams…I’m gonna graduate soon. You gotta be there and you gotta dress sharp, ok.”

You were there. You saw me receive my college degree with high marks. I wanted you to be proud, grams. I doubt you had any idea what I was studying or received my degree in, but you knew I finished. I was so happy you made it to the ceremony. Thank you!

A month or so later, I came to visit you in your little apartment in Oakland. I was nervous. excited. nervous to tell you my news, but excited about my news. “Grams, I’m gonna be moving to Atlanta.”   You said, “That’s it then. I’ll never see you again.”  Well, you were wrong. You did see me again!

A few months later, I returned for my first visit and went to your door. It was unlocked and the TV was blaring. I walked in, walked in front of you sitting on the sofa. You smiled, gasped, and put your hand over your eyes….I was sooo happy to see you too, grams!

My next visit was also unexpected. On an late night in early September 2000, I got that call. Liz called and said, “grandma died.” I packed my bags and got on a plane to see you. Liz had told me you died in your sleep. I wondered what happened. I’ve come to my own conclusion that you were just done. Done with a very hard life. You were alone and so many of those close to you had already passed. Your life was a tough one. A life filled with failed marriages, kids who were in prison, a daughter who died and left you holding the bag with 4 grandkids, sisters and brothers who were junkies (even in their old age). I think you were just done. Even so, it was sad to lose you and heart-wrenching to plan your funeral service and finally, to bury you. At the cemetery, they opened mom’s grave because that is where you were to be buried also. What a strange sight that was to see. Her coffin in another box. Long gone. You were the one who bought the double plot. Did you have one of your “esp” moments and you just knew?

I’m sorry time didn’t accelerate quicker for me and slower for you. So many things I wanted to do with you; go to Las Vegas, take you on a cruise, take you to so many places you never got to see.

I’m sorry you didn’t get to see me run. You would be clapping so loud, grams. BUT,  you’d also probably be one of those folks who tell me running isn’t good for my knees, etc…and WE WOULD FIGHT ABOUT IT! HA!

I’m sorry you didn’t have the chance to see me in my professional life, my career. You’d probably be surprised at my chosen profession, but you would be proud and that’s all that matters. You knew. You knew I would not go by the wayside and do nothing with my life. Thank god! You seldom said it, but damn, I know you loved me. That was just your way. I get it now.

You were Mercedes on the record books, Mercy, to friends, and Tita to your brothers and sisters…Tita, spanish for small one.

To me, you were Grams. Always.

I love you, Grams. Happy Birthday.