I May Have Watched A Man Die Last Night

Around 9 p.m. last night my husband, stepdaughter and I went to a big box hardware store.  We were looking for a new back door, some water filters and a new bathroom cabinet.

As we were walking into the store we heard a guy yelling for help. “Call 911.  Call  911.  My dad collapsed.”

As we moved closer I saw a older man lying on the ground and his son knelt over him.  “Dad!  Dad!” He said shaking him.

The man wasn’t breathing.

“Start CPR,” The woman on the phone calmly said.

Oh shit I thought to myself as I watched the son perform CPR.  He counted. One, Two, Three, Four.  Nothing.

I stood there watching.  Helpless.

The man started breathing.  He opened his eyes a little and started moaning.

The son stopped.

The man stopped breathing.

“Start CPR again,” the woman said.   I assumed she was on phone with the 911 operator.

The son started.  “Don’t do this to me, Dad.  Don’t do this to me.” He voice cracked as he pushed on his dad’s chest.  “One.  Two.  Three.  Four.”

Tears threatened to overflow, but I pushed them back.  Crying wouldn’t help the situation now.

My husband ran in the store to see if there was a defibrillator.  He came back empty handed.

The man started to breath again.  He started to moan.  He opened his eyes a little.  I started to have a little hope.

“Is there a pulse?”

My husband knelt down and grabbed his wrist.  “Faintly.”

“What is his name?” I asked.  I was standing next to my husband.  I didn’t know why I asked this.  I wanted to hold the man’s hand and talk to him.  I wanted to tell him everything was going to be ok.  Even though there was a chance it wasn’t.

The son didn’t answer.

The man stopped breathing.

The son started CPR again.

I prayed that the ambulance would come soon.

“Does anyone know CPR?”  The lady talking on the phone asked.  “We need a replacement.  He’s getting tired.”

I ran to the store.  “Does anyone know CPR?”  I yelled.  Not one hand went up.  Fuck!  A young store employee, probably nineteen, followed me outside.  “I know CPR, but I’ve never had to use it.” Another employee came running out.  “I know CPR.”

He took over  Another stop and start.

The EMT’s came.  They put an oxygen mask on him.

How many times can he start breathing and stop breathing?

I looked around for his son.  I didn’t see him.

The ambulance came.  They hooked him up.  The paramedics jolted him.

“Come on dude.  Breathe.” I said quietly.  I know dude wasn’t the appropriate term, but I just spent all day shopping with my sixteen and a half year old niece who calls everybody dude.

He started breathing.  The EMT’s rolled him on his side and put a board behind his back so they could move him onto the stretcher.  I knew one of the EMT’s.  He started working at my place of employment a couple of months ago.  I always wondering why he carried a walkie talkie type radio.  Now I knew why.

The man stopped breathing.  Another jolt.  I winced.  You see it on a tv show, but you know it’s fake.  This was real.

A car pulled up.  A woman walked to the son holding a little boy.  The women started to rub the sons back.  The man grabbed his son and held him tight.  My heart broke again.

The man started breathing.  They moved him onto the stretcher and rolled him toward the ambulance.

He stomach wasn’t moving up and down.

He wasn’t breathing.

No one was moving with a sense of urgency.  They didn’t put him in the ambulance and drive away in a hurry.

Oh God.  Was he dead?  I kept waiting for the EMT’s to call the time.  Time of death is 9:37.  They probably didn’t do that at the scene.  I wanted to go and hold his hand.  I wanted to tell him if it was his time to die it was ok.  I wanted his soul to know that someone was with him.  But I didn’t.  I didn’t think it was my place.

I remember the morning my dad died.  I woke up at two a.m.  In my head I told my dad that is was ok for him to die.  My sister, my brothers and I would take care of my mom.  I understood he had another journey to take.  He died four hours later.

“Let’s go,” My husband said.  We started walking toward the store.  My husband looked back.  I couldn’t.  Instead I said a prayer.  I prayed for God to watch over the man and his family.

I wonederd if I would have known CPR would I have been able to help or what it the man’s turn to die?  I believe when your name is one the big chalkboard in the sky your time on Earth is up.  End. Of. Your. Story.

I walked through the store in a daze.  I couldn’t believe what I just witnessed.  I never saw anyone die, but I just may have.

I wanted to gather everyone I love and hold them tight.  I wanted to tell them to never stop breathing.  I want die first so I don’t have to go through the pain of losing a loved one.

As I laid in bed this morning I wondered if the man was fighting with God during the starts and stops of his breathing.  When he started breathing was he telling God that he wanted to live and when he stopped breathing God was patiently explaining to him that this was the next part of his journey until the man finally understood and stopped fighting.

I wondered if there were angels at the scene to carry his soul to Heaven or wherever it was going to next?   What does a soul look like?  I think of it was a circle of white light.  I didn’t notice any white light going up toward Heaven.  Maybe it was too early.  Maybe I’m totally wrong about what a soul looks like.

I wonder what goes on on the other side when they expect a new soul to come over.  We have a funeral on earth to say good-bye and to remember their life, but what happens on the the other side?  Do family and friends greet them?  Or does their favorite person greet them and help prepare their soul to cross over?

I know I’m probably ahead of myself.  I don’t know if the man died or not.  Him dying is just my assumption from what I saw at the scene.  I hope I’m wrong.

I think I’m still in shock this morning.  I miss my dad terribly.  I keep thinking of the son of the man and sending him pink light, hugs and love.  Can you imagine trying to save your dad like that?  Or possibly dying lying in the parking lot of a big box hardware store?

The whole situation is heartbreaking.

Please pray for the man and his family today.

I will be.





I Suck At Drawing

I can’t draw.

I’m not exaggerating.  I’m not one of those people who they can’t draw, but draw these beautiful pictures.  Not even close.  I suck.  I am being totally honest with you.  And myself.

I suck.

I tried to draw a simple umbrella from a picture I found on the internet.  Not happening.  It sucked.  My picture looked more like a fig leaf than a umbrella.

Drawing has always been something I suck at.  I am a writer not an artist.

Then why am I trying to draw?

Visions of drawings for a Menopause calendar keep dancing around in my head.  I have a vision in my head of what the top picture of a couple of the months to be and I would love to put them on paper.  The problem is is that I can’t draw.  Even my stick figures look sick.

I bought a sketch book to practice drawing in last night.  That’s when I drew the fig leaf whoops –umbrella.   One of the pictures I would like to sketch has a umbrella in it.

It’s frustrating to keep trying because I know what I want it to look like in my head, but it trying to get it on paper is something else.   Since I’m trying to do things that push me out of my comfort zone, I’m going to keep trying.  Even if I can get the basics on paper it would be a start.

I’m going shopping with my mom, sister and niece on Saturday.  Maybe I’ll stop in the bookstore and see what books they have on drawing.  I definitely need to learn the basics.

I tried drawing a simple porch attached to a house and a box that said “it” on it sitting on the porch.  I drew the box.  It looked alright, but I couldn’t get the lines correct with the house and porch.

I don’t know why I’m sharing this.

I keep hearing my dad’s voice.  Keep trying.  Practice makes perfect.

Not in this case, Dad, but I will keep trying.











Feeling Uninspired

For the last two weeks I have been feeling uninspired. I try to write a blog post but can’t make myself do it. So instead of writing something I’m going to show you some pics of the changes we’ve made to our yard.

We have been working in the yard taking out stumps and flowering Bush things that the previous owner left but I dont want. The front of the house was overgrown and I just want a simple clean design. I want to start from scratch and put what I want in the front of the house.

Here’s the border we put around the flagpole. We used blocking that the previous owners left behind.

The old tractor tire used to be around the flagpole. So far we took out all the trees in front and on the side of the house.

It looks totally different. We just have a couple of more stumps to take out and then we can plant grass and landscape.

I’m really proud of the work we have done creating our little space. I love it!

New Adventure

I did something today that I would have never done in the past.  I went with my husband to help someone he knows pour a concrete slab in a pole barn.  I don’t know anything about concrete or pouring a slab.  I don’t even know the guy very well.  Hardly at all.  He works with my husband and is a friend of my brother’s.

Saying yes to something like this is not me.   It’s is totally out of character.  I would never get up that early on a Monday morning to help someone I barely know, but something told me to say yes when my husband asked me.

To be honest I didn’t want to get out of bed this morning.  I went to bed at 11 p.m. and I got around 6 and 1/2 hours of sleep, but I was still tired.   I knew it would be a long day at work, but I got up.

You know what?  I’m glad I did.  I had a really cool experience.  I didn’t help much with the concrete, but I did get to meet the animals he and his family had on their hobby farm.  His daughter, who is 14, gave me a tour.  She has 16 bunnies.  All different colors and breeds.  (This is why the slab was being poured.  It would be the bunnies new home)  She shows bunnies and her horse at the local fair every year.   I saw four baby bunnies that were less a week old and their eyes weren’t even open.  They were adorable.

There are four cats.  All named after a city.  Two of the names are toledo and madison.  Kinda cool.

There are six horses in their stable.  (I have ridden a horse once.   Never again.  It was a horrible experience.  Although the people that I was with wished they would have taped it.  It would have won money on America’s Funniest Videos)  It was cool to be with the horses in the corral.  I petted each of the horses and one horse came over to me to be petted again.  I’ll admit I was scared shitless.  One of the horses was as tall as I was.  (5’5).  I was amazed at how beautiful and powerful they were.

What I was totally impressed that this is this fourteen year old girl knew how to drive a mini skidster.  She rocks.  I’m jealous.   I would love to learn how to drive the skidster.  That would be so cool.  My husband wants to buy one.  Maybe I will learn at some point.

I was really happy I went.  I did something different.  I went out of my comfort zone.  I was around people I barely knew, but still had fun.  I learned things about horses, cats and bunnies that I never knew.

Most importantly, we helped someone that needed help.  So many people helped us during our move and I am extremely grateful to each and every one.  Helping today was paying it forward.  People helped us so we help other people.

I wish I would have taken a picture of the view looking out of their pole barn.  The view was stunning.  We were on a peak so we could see farm fields and trees for miles and miles.  I love our view, but this view was totally amazing.  It was so beautiful.

I am dead ass tired right now, but very grateful for what I have and everyone in my life.  Being in the country just gives you a different look on life.  I’m calmer.  Breathe easier.  Appreciate more.  Braver.  More open.

Maybe I should say yes to new adventures more often.




Maybe I’ll Get A Three Day

I shot my mouth off tonight at work tonight. Maybe I will get a three day.

Management left a skid of plastic coffee cups with lids tonight with our logo on by the lunchroom just before 8 PM break. At break people ran to get the cups. What pissed me off was that some people were taking four or five. I yelled “you guys should only be taking one. There are other people on 2nd and 3rd shift is coming in in two hours.” They didn’t listen. They just kept taking. And taking…

These are the same people who took the free polo shirts yesterday. Grabbed them all up til they were all gone. One of the girls walked away with four polos.

I shouldn’t have yelled at the people I yelled at but I did. Why do people think that just because the sign says free you can take as many as they want?

Doesn’t anyone know how to share anymore? Is that hard to realize that there are more people than yourself who might want one?

I wasn’t raised like that.

You dont have to take stuff because it’s free. If you dont need it dont take it. Or if you dont think you are going to use it dont take it. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out.

These people really pissed me off tonight. I’ll find out tomorrow if they told on me. I really don’t care. Someone needed to say something. And that someone was menopausal me.

Maybe I will get a three day. That would be a nice mini vacation. I could go to the trailer. I could stay home.

I dont know why I’m thinking that. It’s never going to happen. I might get talked to. Wishful thinking on my part.

Ok. I’m done bitching for tonight.

Why Do I Feel Guilty?

We have been on 9 hours voluntary overtime for the last four days at work.

Guess what?  I haven’t worked an hour.  I could of but I didn’t.

You know why? I don’t want to.  I don’t have to.   I’m not going to.  I’m taking advantage of it because I don’t know how long it’s going to last.

Do you know what the sad thing is?  I feel guilty not working it.

Why?  We just bought a house and we need things — like a new furnace and a/c.  Other people are working it so I feel I should to.  It’s the right thing to do.  Blah.  Blah.  Blah.

It’s been very hard not to stay, but I haven’t.  There’s work so I could find something to do for that last hour.

It’s been extremely hard to give that extra hour to myself.  I told myself I don’t have to work that extra hour if I write for an hour.  Each day I’ve been writing an hour or more.  Don’t I deserve an extra hour in my day to do what I want with?  Instead of helping my company make money and achieve their goals.  What about my goals?

But I feel guilty.  A coworker’s mom had surgery today.  I should go in and help out.  Right?  I’m a team player.

The thing is is that I need to ask myself when am I going to help myself?  When am I going to dedicate my time to my writing like I do my job?  When am I going to help Team Me?  If I’m going to be a writer than I need to write.  Every.  Day.  Not just when I don’t have to work.

I need the hour to myself.  So what if I don’t have any overtime on one check (you know these 8 hour days aren’t going to last forever).  It’s not going to break me.

I need to stop giving my time and dedication to my employer.  Instead I need to give it to myself.  Even if it means giving up five hours of overtime a week.

I need to stop feeling guilty and be proud that I’m giving myself the time to do something I love and that I’m passionate about.

Stepping out and exploring myself and what I am capable of is scary.   Maybe that’s why I feel guilty not working the overtime.  My focus is on myself instead of the company I work for.  They frown upon that.

I can feel the scale tipping more toward me.  Maybe I’m beginning to see that there are other options out there and maybe it’s time I started exploring them.

My talent and I are definitely worth that hour.




I Prayed For You Today

Dated: 1-12-02

Even though you and I aren’t talking                                                                                                I prayed for you today

I prayed for your safety                                                                                                                        I prayed for your happiness

I prayed for God to give you strength                                                                                                I prayed for you to have courage to let go of the past

I prayed that you find the love you deserve                                                                                    I prayed that you find your way

You have made such a difference in my life                                                                                    I prayed that someone does the same for you

Even though things aren’t great between us I still care                                                                  That’s why I prayed for you today


I found this poem when I was going through a box of my old writing yesterday.  It seems off and on throughout the years I have wrote poems.  I never realized this.

I am not only a writer.

I am a poet.

Who knew?