So...I haven't actively written for this blog in a while. I have another blog (Sarcastic Thoughts on the Late Train) that sees more action, but this side is for my personal stuff.
Here's something big and personal:
My dad died on Tuesday, August 19, 2014.
He wasn't supposed to die, at least not in my opinion. Clearly, God had a different plan than the rest of us. It was completely sudden and unexpected. He wasn't sick. He was extremely healthy, in fact. When he turned 50, he started going to the doctor often. During one of his checkups, they found pre-cancerous cells that could have led to prostate cancer. Instead, he took aggressive action and beat the cancer before it could beat him. This last Christmas, he shared with the entire family that he was 100% clear of any cancer cells, and his doctor told him he was very healthy for a man his age.
So, then what the what?!? How does a healthy man, only 60 years old, just die? The electricity went out in his heart. It's that simple - cardiac arrest. According to the American Heart Association, "Cardiac arrest is caused when the heart's electrical system malfunctions." It is not the same as a heart attack...he didn't have heart disease.
The medical professionals said he didn't suffer. Okay. Fine. But I still am having a very hard time understanding this. I've used a private journal to write out the memories and the feelings, but now I am ready to announce to the blogging world that my dad died. And I am angry about it. I just don't get it. I'm not ready for my dad to gone. I wasn't finished with him.
I'm not ready to share all those other details about the visitation, seeing him for the first time, the funeral, or the other things that have happened since the moment I found out he died...maybe in time.
For now, the world just should know, James "Jim" Harvey Higham, age 60, died at home the afternoon of August 19, 2014. He is survived by his wife, his four children, three children-in-law, and five grandchildren, as well as two sisters, three brothers-in-law, one sister-in-law, two nieces, and one nephew. He is preceded in death by his parents and two grandchildren.
We all miss him greatly.
Showing posts with label lessons. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lessons. Show all posts
Sunday, September 7, 2014
Monday, January 3, 2011
MY favorite Christmas Stories
So, I happen to know Santa Claus. He's a pretty cool guy. He's done some amazing things over the years, and I'd like to share some of them with you.
Kindergarten Christmas in Recovery:
This is not as bad as it sounds. The year I was in kindergarten, I had tonsillitis. A lot. So, I had to have the darn things taken out. Before Christmas break. Before the holiday party. In kindergarten. I was bummed! However, in the present exchange, the person who drew my name gave me a coloring book and crayons to have with me in the hospital during my recovery. It was awesome. I know that Santa had a hand in making sure my Christmas was wonderful that year.
Christmas in June:
Santa is around all the time, not just at Christmas. One year for my birthday in June, I had one of the most wonderful Christmas experiences a girl with a summer birthday could have – Christmas dinner in June. In Florida. In a restaurant decorated for Christmas all year long. It was a place called The Paw Paw Tree, and my grandfather Higham made a big to-do about it. I was smiling ear-to-ear the entire meal. We had turkey and ham and stuffing and mashed potatoes and pie and apple cider...it was amazing! Since I almost never spent a Christmas with Grandpa Higham, it was a true blessing. That was Santa’s way of reminding all of us that love of family is important.
Santa knows WHERE you are for Christmas:
Santa can find you if he needs to. One year we were going to be traveling to Ohio to visit my grandparents, and we were worried that Santa wouldn't be able to get us our presents. We wrote him a letter to let him know, and he came through! While we were at Sunday School and Church the day before our trip, Santa dropped off our presents early so we could enjoy our family Christmas.
Similarly, another year, Santa managed to find us AT our grandparents' house. He even managed to put out all the presents under the tree in the living room WHERE WE WERE SLEEPING. Amazing.
Santa sends you what you need, even if it is far away:
I was let go from a job, for the very first time in my life, on December 11, 2007. I had just financed a vehicle and been proposed to in September that year. I was planning a wedding, and a future, with JR, and I had no idea if any of it was going to work out. I was devastated. I talked with my family often during that time, and my kid brother, with whom I have always had (and will always have) a close, special, different relationship than my sisters, said he would drive up on Christmas day with his daughter Courtney so I could be with family at Christmas. I was so touched, and excited, and weepy... It's quite a haul from NW Tennessee to Chicagoland...especially in December. It was late and cold and dark when my brother called to let me know he was close by. I talked him through the winding road back to my apartment, and I ran down the stairs to grab my brother and niece in a big hug. What happened instead is pure Christmas magic. I got to the bottom of the stairs as the truck was pulling up. Instead of my brother in the driver seat, it was my DAD! He had made the trip with my brother because he knew I needed him. That visit made all the difference to me. I cried and cried when they left a few days later, but I had been able to spend some part of my holiday with family - family who love me so much they sacrificed time together to give me a bright day!
How could I not love Christmas with all these wonderful stories? There are so many more, but these are the stories that make my heart sing...
Kindergarten Christmas in Recovery:
This is not as bad as it sounds. The year I was in kindergarten, I had tonsillitis. A lot. So, I had to have the darn things taken out. Before Christmas break. Before the holiday party. In kindergarten. I was bummed! However, in the present exchange, the person who drew my name gave me a coloring book and crayons to have with me in the hospital during my recovery. It was awesome. I know that Santa had a hand in making sure my Christmas was wonderful that year.
Christmas in June:
Santa is around all the time, not just at Christmas. One year for my birthday in June, I had one of the most wonderful Christmas experiences a girl with a summer birthday could have – Christmas dinner in June. In Florida. In a restaurant decorated for Christmas all year long. It was a place called The Paw Paw Tree, and my grandfather Higham made a big to-do about it. I was smiling ear-to-ear the entire meal. We had turkey and ham and stuffing and mashed potatoes and pie and apple cider...it was amazing! Since I almost never spent a Christmas with Grandpa Higham, it was a true blessing. That was Santa’s way of reminding all of us that love of family is important.
Santa knows WHERE you are for Christmas:
Santa can find you if he needs to. One year we were going to be traveling to Ohio to visit my grandparents, and we were worried that Santa wouldn't be able to get us our presents. We wrote him a letter to let him know, and he came through! While we were at Sunday School and Church the day before our trip, Santa dropped off our presents early so we could enjoy our family Christmas.
Similarly, another year, Santa managed to find us AT our grandparents' house. He even managed to put out all the presents under the tree in the living room WHERE WE WERE SLEEPING. Amazing.
Santa sends you what you need, even if it is far away:
I was let go from a job, for the very first time in my life, on December 11, 2007. I had just financed a vehicle and been proposed to in September that year. I was planning a wedding, and a future, with JR, and I had no idea if any of it was going to work out. I was devastated. I talked with my family often during that time, and my kid brother, with whom I have always had (and will always have) a close, special, different relationship than my sisters, said he would drive up on Christmas day with his daughter Courtney so I could be with family at Christmas. I was so touched, and excited, and weepy... It's quite a haul from NW Tennessee to Chicagoland...especially in December. It was late and cold and dark when my brother called to let me know he was close by. I talked him through the winding road back to my apartment, and I ran down the stairs to grab my brother and niece in a big hug. What happened instead is pure Christmas magic. I got to the bottom of the stairs as the truck was pulling up. Instead of my brother in the driver seat, it was my DAD! He had made the trip with my brother because he knew I needed him. That visit made all the difference to me. I cried and cried when they left a few days later, but I had been able to spend some part of my holiday with family - family who love me so much they sacrificed time together to give me a bright day!
How could I not love Christmas with all these wonderful stories? There are so many more, but these are the stories that make my heart sing...
Monday, July 19, 2010
The Rooms in My House
I think that each room in my house represents a different part of my self. Now that the house is cleaned, organized, and mostly decorated, here's my self-analysis.
The master bedroom: My subconscious, my heart, my romanticism. I share this room completely with my husband. We are intertwined in this room. It is the place I feel safe. It is the place we share all our secrets. It is the room in which our souls combine during our sleep...I love this room.
The guest room (aka "Dee's Room"): My past, my need to hold onto my childhood and my roots, my get-away. I decorated this room in a sort-of country-girl chic. Pastel greens with pink- and rose-colored accents. A very girly "shabby chic" bed linen set, stuffed animals, ballet art work, candles, and dried flower bouquets everywhere. My antique sewing machine table, with my new model sewing machine, and a closet of gifts, wrapping paper, and gift bags Martha Stewart would be proud of. I've always wanted a room like this. I feel it makes me closer to my baby sister because she has a room like this, and she calls it my room. Yes, I have my own room in my sister's house in Tennessee. Now she has her own room in my house in Illinois.
The master bathroom: My solace. My thinking place. My planning place. I like the simplicity of this room. Whites with lavender accents. I ponder life in the steam of the shower. I refresh my body and mind. I recharge myself here.
The kitchen: My comfort, my warm fuzzy, my life. I love to bake. An entire section of cabinets is dedicated to that love. I feed more than my stomach in this room. JR and I share breakfast and conversation in this room. It is a great room for casual conversation over a cup of tea. A radio in the corner allows me to sing and dance like nobody is watching (even if they are) while I cook, bake, and clean.
The "Great Room": This is a room in progress. It will be the ever-changing room, I can feel it. Currently, it is a fabulous wide-open room with many comfortable seating choices. A set of bookshelves in a corner offers visitors a myriad of reading materials, each section offering a peek into my and my husband's hobbies and interests (an entire section of writing manuals, another of comic books, another of antique collectible books, and yet another of mystery novels, to name only a few). With a fireplace, I am sure this room will provide a great place to have a wonderful visit with friends, sharing a glass of wine and a vivacious discussion. In the future, this room will transform...into what is the unanswered question.
The downstairs bathroom: The place where all life's problems end up. Currently, according to the downstairs bathroom, life has no problems. Over the last few months, life was ankle deep in poop. Now, everything is working well again.
The basement: The fun, the entertainment, the togetherness. This is the most-used room in the house. This is where we laugh during comedies, cry during love stories, hide under the covers during horror fests, and work our butts off to video games. This is the room where the board games are pulled out and played till exhaustion sets in. This is the "family" room.
The laundry room: The room where the cleaning happens. Therapy takes place during the laundry process. Life is sorted out, and all the bad stuff from the week is washed away (including the inevitable food stains on my shirts). I am so happy to finally have this room!
The office/my closet: This is the secret room. The room nobody is allowed to see. The mess. The boxes. The clutter. The clothes and shoes and shoes and shoes. The computer is in there somewhere. Despite it serving as my closet, my husband spends more time in the office than I do. He kills zombies on the computer into the wee hours. This room holds his solace and relaxation.
The patio: The "ahhhh" place. Where we go to rest after yard work. Where we make the neighbors hungry from the wonderful aromas of the grill. Where JR's pet Zombie "Morty" lives with his pet lizard "Lexie." (I'll update this with pictures, I promise.)
The garage: The holder of things we don't know what to do with...for now. That's all I'm saying.
Every room is important to the whole of the house...Every piece represents a different part of our lives...I love my house, and I love my life.
The master bedroom: My subconscious, my heart, my romanticism. I share this room completely with my husband. We are intertwined in this room. It is the place I feel safe. It is the place we share all our secrets. It is the room in which our souls combine during our sleep...I love this room.
The guest room (aka "Dee's Room"): My past, my need to hold onto my childhood and my roots, my get-away. I decorated this room in a sort-of country-girl chic. Pastel greens with pink- and rose-colored accents. A very girly "shabby chic" bed linen set, stuffed animals, ballet art work, candles, and dried flower bouquets everywhere. My antique sewing machine table, with my new model sewing machine, and a closet of gifts, wrapping paper, and gift bags Martha Stewart would be proud of. I've always wanted a room like this. I feel it makes me closer to my baby sister because she has a room like this, and she calls it my room. Yes, I have my own room in my sister's house in Tennessee. Now she has her own room in my house in Illinois.
The master bathroom: My solace. My thinking place. My planning place. I like the simplicity of this room. Whites with lavender accents. I ponder life in the steam of the shower. I refresh my body and mind. I recharge myself here.
The kitchen: My comfort, my warm fuzzy, my life. I love to bake. An entire section of cabinets is dedicated to that love. I feed more than my stomach in this room. JR and I share breakfast and conversation in this room. It is a great room for casual conversation over a cup of tea. A radio in the corner allows me to sing and dance like nobody is watching (even if they are) while I cook, bake, and clean.
The "Great Room": This is a room in progress. It will be the ever-changing room, I can feel it. Currently, it is a fabulous wide-open room with many comfortable seating choices. A set of bookshelves in a corner offers visitors a myriad of reading materials, each section offering a peek into my and my husband's hobbies and interests (an entire section of writing manuals, another of comic books, another of antique collectible books, and yet another of mystery novels, to name only a few). With a fireplace, I am sure this room will provide a great place to have a wonderful visit with friends, sharing a glass of wine and a vivacious discussion. In the future, this room will transform...into what is the unanswered question.
The downstairs bathroom: The place where all life's problems end up. Currently, according to the downstairs bathroom, life has no problems. Over the last few months, life was ankle deep in poop. Now, everything is working well again.
The basement: The fun, the entertainment, the togetherness. This is the most-used room in the house. This is where we laugh during comedies, cry during love stories, hide under the covers during horror fests, and work our butts off to video games. This is the room where the board games are pulled out and played till exhaustion sets in. This is the "family" room.
The laundry room: The room where the cleaning happens. Therapy takes place during the laundry process. Life is sorted out, and all the bad stuff from the week is washed away (including the inevitable food stains on my shirts). I am so happy to finally have this room!
The office/my closet: This is the secret room. The room nobody is allowed to see. The mess. The boxes. The clutter. The clothes and shoes and shoes and shoes. The computer is in there somewhere. Despite it serving as my closet, my husband spends more time in the office than I do. He kills zombies on the computer into the wee hours. This room holds his solace and relaxation.
The patio: The "ahhhh" place. Where we go to rest after yard work. Where we make the neighbors hungry from the wonderful aromas of the grill. Where JR's pet Zombie "Morty" lives with his pet lizard "Lexie." (I'll update this with pictures, I promise.)
The garage: The holder of things we don't know what to do with...for now. That's all I'm saying.
Every room is important to the whole of the house...Every piece represents a different part of our lives...I love my house, and I love my life.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Thirty-five years...
Wow. I remember when my dad turned 30. He had a wife, four kids, a house, two cars, and a career in a tire factory... He felt old, and my mom threw him a surprise party to which all the guests brought gag gifts like denture cream and "old people" vitamins and such...I thought it was so funny 'cause "Daddy was old!" Yep.
When I turned 30 five years ago, the memory of dad's birthday was bittersweet. I realized my dad was NOT old when he turned 30. He's not old now! I realized that I was still in an apartment, not married, no kids...but I had a college degree and a office-job career. My dad celebrated his 30th birthday with friends and family at our house; I celebrated my 30th birthday on Bourbon Street in NOLA with my boyfriend (now husband).
I've come a long way in 35 years...and I still have a long way to go.
Here's to all the 35-year-old girls who just aren't ready to be grown-ups yet...
When I turned 30 five years ago, the memory of dad's birthday was bittersweet. I realized my dad was NOT old when he turned 30. He's not old now! I realized that I was still in an apartment, not married, no kids...but I had a college degree and a office-job career. My dad celebrated his 30th birthday with friends and family at our house; I celebrated my 30th birthday on Bourbon Street in NOLA with my boyfriend (now husband).
I've come a long way in 35 years...and I still have a long way to go.
Here's to all the 35-year-old girls who just aren't ready to be grown-ups yet...
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Three Things
If you’ve known me even a little well over the last ten years since my move to Chicago, you probably know that I am a Kevin Smith fan. Kevin Smith is the writer, director, and actor of such great films as Clerks, Mallrats, Chasing Amy, Dogma, Jay & Silent Bob Strike Back, Clerks II, etc. Mr. Smith plays Silent Bob – the character who speaks very seldom but always with profoundness.
A few years ago, I wrote a speech to deliver to my Toastmasters group about the three things I have learned from Kevin Smith movies. While I am at a point in my life in which “professional adult” outweighs “fan girl” a little too much for my liking, I still hold true to myself these lessons. Here’s a recap:
A few years ago, I wrote a speech to deliver to my Toastmasters group about the three things I have learned from Kevin Smith movies. While I am at a point in my life in which “professional adult” outweighs “fan girl” a little too much for my liking, I still hold true to myself these lessons. Here’s a recap:
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