New Note to Self:

The correct time to blurt out "CRAP!!!" is not:

1. When you are trying to poke a needle through another person's flesh
or...
2. When your instructor is on the other side of the patients bed

These things tend to be worse when combined, so if you do feel it is necessary to let your Tourettes take over it is best to make sure that either your instructor isn't in the room with you, or you are not in a patients room.

Further, although it may be amusing when the patient says "I don't know what her problem is, it isn't like you said SHIT!" try not to laugh too hard. Because then the teacher wants an explanation (which you can not give her due to the fact that you are laughing so hard that you can't catch your breath) and tends to get very upset.

Finally, when your instructor pulls you aside following such a fiasco as this, try to act contrite.

Do not upset the teacher. She is grading you.

Dear Old Friend

I have started this letter to you too many times to count. Somehow what I want to say sounds so shallow and I am unsure if you even want to hear it. I find it hard, after almost 5 years to know where to begin, or what to say.

I want to tell you that I have missed your friendship and companionship. I want to tell you that I am sorry for the things that I did that created the rift between us.

And I want to tell you how incredibly sorry I was to hear about the loss of your father. I know the sorrow that comes with losing someone so close and important to you. Losing a parent is especially hard and I am sorry that I was not there for you to support you in a time where the world no longer made sense and when you needed all of your friends.

And I grieve because your father was always kind to me, always treated me as an equal, like I was important. Your father and your mother helped me to realize that no matter the mistakes I had made or the wrong turns I had taken, I was important and I still had the potential to be anything that I wanted to.

And I want to tell you that your parents are a big reason that I decided to go back to school to become a nurse. Your mothers enthusiasm and love for what she did inspired me. Because of her and your father I have decided to follow the same path and become a midwife. And I wanted you to know that I wish that your father could know that he made a difference in my life. I am a better person because of you, because of your parents.

And whether you decide to ever talk to me again or you want to let life remain as it is, I wanted you to know that having had you and your family in my life changed the path that I was on, and I will be forever grateful for your friendship and support. Forever grateful for having someone who believed in me even when I did not believe in my self.

I hope that in time I will get the chance to make a difference in someone else's life, a chance to pay it forward. And when and if I get that opportunity I will remember when someone did the same for me and know that even in death, people can still change our lives, still make a difference.

Note to Self:

1. Though it may be annoying that your husband complains about the mess and then creates one and leaves it in the middle of the living room for over a week, bitching at him to clean it up will do no good.

2. When your boss calls and asks you to work extra hours, only say yes if you really want to. Get a backbone for goodness sake!! You do not need to please everyone all the time.

3. When your mother says or does something to annoy you (as she does on a weekly basis) just let it go. She is never going to take responsibility for the things she says and does and it is time that you realize that the only person that you can control is yourself.

4. Finally, for the love of all that is holy, do not tell your sister anything. She has a very big mouth and tells mom everything. This leads to issues and then you get mad. (see #3)

12 years later...

Talking to an old friend today got me to thinking.

Thinking about past mistakes and how they shape our futures, about loved ones lost and missed. About all the things that we wish we could go back and change that we never can.

How do you heal the scars of a past that doesn't want to let you go? How do you move on to a future that you can no longer imagine, one you haven't the strength left to fight for it?

I remember feeling this way too many times to count, and yet, here I stand. Happy, whole, loved. And still I can't, for the life of me, figure out how it is that I got here.

How did I make it past the times when my heart felt like it had shattered in my chest and I couldn't breath, because breathing, living, staying meant that if I did, I would do it alone? How did I pick up the pieces and put them back together even though I lost of few of those pieces somewhere along the way?

How did life go on without him in it? How did I move on when, at the time, it was all I could do not to crumble? How did I get here from there?

Would he be proud of me, of the woman I have become or would he be disappointed in the choices that I have made? And why, after 12 years, does it still matter so very much?

Still, after 12 years, I grieve. Grieve for the parts of my life that he has missed. Grieve that he wasn't there on my wedding day. Grieve that he never met my husband, that he never met my brothers children, that they will never meet him. Never know how special he was. Never know that without him in my life, I wouldn't be who I am today.

And I grieve because soon grandma will join him. And I feel as though I should be rejoicing, for she will again be with her love. She has grieved so hard for so long. Her love for him did not die just because he did.

Yet, no matter how old I get, how mature I may be, I still find it hard to say good-bye, hard to let go. At 28 I still feel like there is still so much in my life that I need her for. So much that I don't yet know about life, and love, and letting go.

And I know now what I didn't know then. Grief never goes away. It may fade for a time, but when you least expect it, it pops back up, and it is like is was the first day. You never know what will trigger it. Maybe a song, a sound, a smell. And it is there, still sharp and piercing just under the surface, waiting for a chance to make itself known.