For a little over a year, I spent my days at my elderly Dad's condo, helping him care for for my step-mother, helping him care for himself. As a result, when ever I warm up a cup of coffee or drink it cold, I cannot help but recall how my step mother would abuse my good nature, my desire to help, with a false smile and her false charm. "Warm up this coffee for me..." "My coffee is too cold, warm it up..." "Warm up my coffee...make sure it is really hot this time..." She would insinuate that I had purposefully under warmed it. That she could not consume it without the temperature of the liquid caffienne being piping-hot-farenheit, as it was beneath her, as the idea of her drinking it at a lesser teperature was an appalling affront to her senses. Some of the reasons were because nothing suited her back then, I believe. Part of the reason was her life long practice of manipulation, and my own life long practice of trying to please all of the people all of the time (a decidedly, useless endeavour that I am fighting to conquer to this very day). Some of the reason was her senility-she would forget to drink it while it was hot & some one must rectify that situation for her, as she was helpless, wheelchair bound and in constant aching pain. And she liked being waited on. She enjoyed the attention and knew that when it came to pushing me around, she could go very far, as I would not snap at her for fear of hurting my father by yelling at his beloved. Indeed, sometimes he would surprise me by snapping at her himself, in my defense. I was always doing six things at once, giving pills, enemas, mixing laxatives, making breakfast, getting them dressed, serving what they wanted how they wanted, when they wanted it, and a dozen other interruptions and all of the important seemingly unimportant orders she was giving. The bacon was never crisp enough, the eggs were never the way that she wanted them, and while you are doing that, would you warm up this cup of coffee for me? Sometimes a please or a thank you, but not always. She was definitely digging it in her own way. Making the daughter of her fomer rival, my mother, play step 'n fetch it. It was an intoxicating power that she wielded over me through my love for my father. And it was so very much akin to the way I tried to please my ex when we were married, and no matter what I did, how I did it or when, I could not please him. It was a doomed concept from it's conception. As was pleasing Rene, who often told us that she had never known a man to love his children as much as he loved the 5 of us. We must have enraged her by our very being. We were the only things besides his music that he loved in addition to her. Our father's enduring love for us must have pissed her off mightily. I would marry Bubba in a New York minute. Anybody who knows me, knows that. I was raised in a Christian home, and in my very own way, a way that no church condones, I am still a Christian (I just think translators of the Bible wrote whatever they wrote over those thousands of years ago to stress their points, to capture and enrapture congregations and to make a buck). If Bubba wants to continue being happy together just as we are now, I will let it be. I will never set an ultamaitum. I will never endeavour to manipulate this gift of love we now share, and I will not ever knowingly endanger this happiness that we have found, just so we can have some holy man utter some holy words over us, and pay the state some bucks to legally entangle our lives in red tape. Bubba's parent's marriage was a disaster, as was my own folks. My Mom re-married and was not really happy that she did, though when & if she recalls my step father, she does so fondly. My Dad remarried, as he had been sleeping with my mom's best friend for years and he continued to allow her to continue her manipulations, and had what passed for happiness when she dictated it so, in in her sociopathic little world...My marriage was a horrible mistake, as was Bubba's. Over 50% of folks that marry, divorce, and an untold number live together in misery. Some, of course, do remain in love and retain the happiness that they were fortunate enough to have found, but every couple has a different story and a different level of happiness or a reasonable facsimile, thereof. There is no one answer for the many different situations. Cecile asked me to ask Bubba a couple of questions that she, herself wanted answered. She wanted to see our lives through Bubba's eyes, even though she knows well that being complete opposites as we are, that Bubba is a man of few words...So, in her stead I asked him if (1) am I as good to him as he is to me, and (2), does he trust me? Bubba answered, "Well, yes" to each question, and then, asked me to tell her not to ask him any more questions. It is hard enough for him to open up and share his feelings with me, he has no desire to share his feelings with my therapist. It is I who am trying to evolve into a better me, not him, and I get his point, as I am sure Cecile will. Bubba does not think that I need therapy, and he defintely does not want it for himself. "There is nothing the matter with you that a piece of dark chocolate won't fix..." says he, but I don't agree, and he does not try to manipulate me into following his lead. He lets me be me, and I am on a journey, I am trying to learn, how to improve who I am almost all of the time. Unless, of course, I am caught up in a King (or a Koontz, or any well-spun tale by any prolific author) novel. I am presently mesmerized by King's "Lisey's Story." I simply can not put it down & when I do all I want to do is go back to it. I love to read. Bubba canot grasp recreational reading, let alone blogging, and cannot understand why any one would do either-but, he never stops me. He always lets me be me, even if he just doesn't get it...like that time I took him to see The Dead up in Indy. Hah! He most definitely did not get it, but he has never tries to control my life to suit him. I love him so! So, I have to get back to my book, and even though I tread headed 6 miles yesterday, I coincidently gained a good 6 lbs the last 2 weeks of my father's life to date. I woulda, coulda, shoulda hit the treadmill again today, if not tommorrow, at the latest. I've got to get off of the Stream & back to my life. I was just checking in, trying to figure a few things out. PS...now why won't this post accept my paragraphs and spacing? I have worked at it far to long & methinks hitting "Review Post" was the culprit & even though I re-spaced & corrected the soacing of the paragraphs...it does what it darn well pleases...what a pisser! ppss...maybe I just fixed it. maybe not. guess I am trying to figure this out, as well...& I have fugured out that I will never again hit "Review Post" as this totally messed up my post!!!!!!!!!!!

Happy birthday to me. It's kind of a surprise party. I certainly did not think that I would live this long, thus, I am happily surprised.

I am an admittedly not-so good driver. More than my share of fender benders, 3 crashes,(two my fault, the other one, not) and 2 speeding tickets in the last 10 years. My efforts to park my big red truck properly, always leave a little something to be desired, but happily, no problems with the lil' Chevy 6-banger that we use for errands and dog-trips.

When going through my seperation & divorce, I often entertained suicidal fantisies wherein, I would purposely take a sharp left into the freeway median-silly, maybe smart me. I mean, what if I had lived through it? What if I had hurt other innocents? How could I wound my family even more than I already had back then, when I had allowed my sociopathic ex to dictate me into almost entirely cutting all ties with them and kill myself just 'cuz my marriage had failed?("Relatives are for Christmas cards and birthday cards," he used to holler at me, "We are the only family we need, now that we are married, so you need to be cutting those apron strings!") It took years to learn that it was all about power, never about love. I am still amazed that there are so many people in the world who only ever use other people-folks that will never kinow love and will never miss it. This is a lesson I will undoubtedly be repeatedly learning, as my remainding years naturally play themselves out-that there are so very many sick individuals walking among us, calculating, hurting, using, manipulating, hiding behind false charm and charismas.

Common sense kept mine a "safe" suicidal fantasy, but undeniably, the urge to take that sharp left was often so very strangely strong. I got past it, and over a great lot of the other than the damage that I allowed my ex to infict my psyche. I am so very over the man that I beleved that I so strongly believed that I did not want to live without. I never ponder why I am here on earth any more, nor what am I supposed to accomplish. I have learned that my life exsists in order for me to love and to learn. I believe in the concept quite strongly, that life is for learning, pure and simple.

I recall quite vividly, my wedding day, when Billyjones, my self-adopted brother took me by the shoulders, looked me in the eye and begged me not to marry HP. "Don't do this," he pleaded, "You will regret this for the rest of your life." Without thinking, I replied, "Billy, I have to make my own mistakes..." I soon allowed HP to dictate my life-my departure from a great job that the Navy trained me foras well as keep me out of college (as he "knew" I'd cheat on him). I allowed him to ruin me financially, professionally, emotionally, and I know now full well, that he will never ever regret his behavior. He will never feel even a twinge of guilt. That's OK though. Just to have him out of my life makes it all worth it. Just to have learned better, albeit the hard way... it is the only way I would have finally understood him, and escaped from him.

I knew the marrige was a mistake long before I went through with the wedding. But Sociopaths are cold charismatic, plotting users and are not often recognized when a young girl thinks that she loves him in spite of his faults. I knew the way HP viewed women was wrong-"Women don't have the strength or the will power to keep their legs closed. All women cheat. All women are whores and bitches," etc., etc., & on and on... I figured that he had been teribly hurt by a woman in his past, and was stuck, unable to recover from his pain. I did not belive his outlook to be remotely correct and I wanted to save him from himself and show him that I was different, that I was worthy of his love. I tried, and quite miserably, I failed.

I had intended to show him that his preconceived notions were erroneous. I knew he was wrong. It was a light bulb moment when a therapist I saw during the break-up asked me, "Cher, whatever made you think that you could change him?" I knew that no one could change another, and I quickly replied, "I didn't want to change him, I wanted to help...him." Suddenly, I understood that trying to help some one, and trying to change them, are one in the same.

Another pearl of wisdom Billyjones offered later gave me another light bulb moment. "You know, Cher, you were really lucky to get out of that marriage alive. I think he wanted to kill you." After my initial denial ("He never even hit me!") I started to recollect the many times that HP put me in harm's way in the name of adventure. Never a back rest or helmets on the Harley Davidson that I had bought for him, as it would "ruin the look of the ride." We had arguments about it, but I never won.

One day, he insisted we going out to the "Potato Patch" area just outside the Bay to go fishing when the Weather Channel had been repeatedly stressing "small craft advisories". Despite my appeals and relunctance, he commanded that we venture forth as " everyone else would heed the warnings and that the white-cap conditions would result in great fishing." We were too busy trying not to capsize to even try to fish,with greatwalls of water flooding the deck, rocking and tossing our lil' home-made boat("Go below & put on your survival suit" he commanded. A suit that took 20 minutes to sueeze into which promised 8-10 minutes of survival in the Pacific... 4 skilled fisherman who also did not adhere to the warnings died on that day, and we came very close. He knew that I was not a strong swimmer, but he also insisted on teaching me to learn to scuba dive at Pt. Reyes where the currents are reputedly the strongest on the California Coast. I spent the unsuccesful training sessions being helplessly bounced from one rock formation to another, bruised, cut, and pissed off. I never confronted him about the place he chose to teach me this elusive skill, but I see now how little regard he had for my health and safety. He was only so very mad that I could not learn to scuba, that he treated me with open scorn and distaste, as if I had purposefully betrayed and disappointed him. The best defense I belatedly learned, was his confrontational, heartless offense.

Yeah, we had big insurance policies on one another. If his neglect and carelessness for my well-being had resulted in my death, he would most assuredly have gotten over my death long before the time that it took me to recover from the divorce. I knew that he was responsible for the death of a teenage girl in his youth, off-road joyriding over hill & dale, until the truck over turned, and she died after 3 weeks in a coma. He only ever bemoaned the disrespect and hate that the folks in his small hometown showed him with after the accident. In my presense, he never mourned the girl, nor admitted guilt, and I wanted to heal his wounds, as I thought him worthy of my help.. She was dead and still, it remained all about him. I can see things more clearly now. I would like to doubt that he actually ever planned my murder, but without a doubt, he'd have taken my life with little or no guilt in his pursuits for adventure, for living on the edge. Let's not go there anymore today. It's my birthday & I do not want to concentrate on my youthful innocence and indescretions, only what I may have hopefully learned from them.

In my past, I have entertained quite a few other self-destrutive habits through this learning process that I call my life. I drank a great deal of alchohol for a great many years. It is no longer an issue. I hung out with many others who shared several other bad habits, ant those too, are no longer an issue. I hang out with Bubba and family these days, a lesson thankfully, comfortingly learned. I recall most of my excuses for the many dependent behaviors I exibited, and none of them ring true any longer. They no longer matter. None of it matters, as long as I learned from the experiences.

Bubba spent $120 on fireworks last night & set them off for me in the rain. There was lots of thunder and lightening, in addition to two other distant neighbors who spent at least 5 times as much as he did on their shows, that I could enjoy everything from the back porch, sitting dry under the overhang. We were witness to lots of color, noise and excitement before returning to the house to calm the dogs, and hit the sack.

He is building us a front porch for my birthday. Last year, he built the back porch. This week is the only week that he takes vacation. Annually, at this time of year, we puppy-sit my sister's beagle, celebrate the 4th of July, and my birthday, see a few movies(he tips the people at the movie theatre-do you know ANYONE who does that? My Bubba tips the ticket dude, as well as the popcorn kid!), and we have some sweet one-on-one together time, taking turns being kind to one another. I have learned that love does not involve being ruled or pain or humiliation, a lesson fifty-some years in the making.

This afternoon, we will go to Applebee's for dinner (our annual celebratory meal), I will have a salad & he will have the steak. I will order the large size greenery, so that I can bring some home for later. As quickly as we can, we will then, head back home, our favorite place, to again, comfort the dogs and kick back.

My life is so good these days, despite losing my beloved father last month. Bubba is sweet, hard-working & supportive. I have wonderful brothers & sisters, nieces and nephews, and no one is estranged from any one else over petty disagreements or power trips. Indiana is so very, very pretty. It took me a long time to learn to appreciate it. The house Bubba has & is still building for us, is located in a beautiful, safe neighborhood. We have 3 K-9 kids, plenty of healthy food, and plenty of healthy love and mutual respect for one another. It's all good now, but I think that I have learned that one can never know great joy, unless one has known great sorrow. God help me because I am still learning, but today, happy birthday to me!

Mokie Joe ended up posting Dad's bio on "Touchy Subjects." It really is an exceptional labor of love. So definitely worth the read.

The local paper added to the kindness of so many of the local people who graced us with their presence at the services by writing an article in the Sunday paper on the "Opinion" page. Dad shared the spotlight with the passing of another citizen who the author claimed "used a wheel chair, but was never 'confined' to a wheel chair. On page B4, the headline reads "2 Good Men Remembered Fondly."

The author described Dad as, "...an old timer loaded with war stories that ranged from the far corners of the globe (D-Day and Bastogne, for starters) to the far table at the corner tavern."

"Larry Webber was a master of spinning stories, particularly of the musical variety..." and Bubba still dosen't get why I blog, (most folks I know just don't get why I blog-but, I am a story teller, like my father, and thus, I blog).

The article has 2 pics of Dad, one sitting & singing while playing the Hammond organ, and the other, of Dad & Rene holing the sign that I free-hand painted for their "Going Out of Business Sale" in 1997. He was such a cute man..

After some sibling searching, I found the proper title & lyrics of the Michael Buble' tune that my niece dedicated to Dad at the end of the service. I believe that I saw Michael perform this on one of the national morning shows, and then, I thought it to be a song about new-found love. I see now, for me, for my family, that it was written for new-found life...

"Feeling Good"

"Birds flying high,
You know how I feel,
Sun in the sky,
You know how I feel,
Breeze drifting by,
You know how I feel,
It's a new dawn,
It's a new day,
It's a new life,
For me,
And I'm feeling good."

"Fish in the sea,
You know how I feel,
River running free,
You know how I feel,
Blossom on a tree,
You know how I feel,
It's a new dawn,
It's a new day,
For me,
And I'm feeling good."

"Dragonfly out in the sun, you know what I mean, don't you know,
Butterflies all having fun, you know what I mean,
Sleep in peace when day is done,
That's what I mean.
And this old world is a new world,
And a bold world,
For me."

"Stars when you shine,
You know how I feel,
It's a new dawn,
It's a new day.
It's a new life,
For me.
And I'm feeling good."

That says it all for me. Sis Kathy tells me there is an even more appropriate song called "Home" on the same CD, and she will play it for sis Jan & I tomorrow mid-morning when she is gifting the 3 of us a massage from a massage therapist in Kathy's beautiful, relaxing home mid-morning. I will see Cecile (my mental health therapist) in the afternoon. I will try to visit my mom who no longer remebers who I am at her nursing home, and hopefully, continue on to visit my father's beloved, 2nd wife, Rene (who was in such terrible pain for the visitation and the funeral), at her nursing home, to hopefully wrap up a full day slowly enroute towards my own road to healing.

I'm feeling good...all things considered. Off and on, most of the time, the roughest times are when I am trying to sleep, but, actively I am working on it, and I'm feeling good.

My father studied music under Dan Fogelberg's father in Illinois. Dan dosen't know it, but in his song, "Leader of the Band," he included verses for my siblings & I. Mokie Joe set these excerpts to a video that was shown at Dad's funeral...I wish you could have seen it. His funeral was a celebration of his life, and a celebration of the new life upon which he embarked last Tuesay. Dad would have been so proud to have seen it...if his spirit was willing, I believe that he did.

exerpts from "Leader of the Band"

"A quiet man of music,
Denied a simpler fate,
He tried to be a soldier once,
but his music wouldn't wait..."

"The leader of the band is tired,
And his eyes are growing old.
But his blood runs through my instrument,
And his song is in my soul,
My life has been a poor attempt
To imitate the man,
I am the living legacy,
To the leader of the band."

"I thank you for the music,
And your stories of the road,
I thank you for my freedom,
When it came my time to go.
I thank you for the kindness,
And the times that you got rough,
And Papa, I don't think I,
Said 'I Love You' near enough..."

The service was beautiful. Someone in "Steel Magnolias" once said that, "laughter through tears is my favorite emotion."
There were many tears, and much laughter.
I know that he is gone from my sight, but still find it so hard to believe.

Mokie Joe orchestrated the majority of the proceedings for the funeral, including providing multiple copies of Dad's biography, at various tables in the funeral home. Many people signed up in a list for a copy of the bio.I wish Mark would post Dad's bio on his blog, but Mark told me that it was rather lenghty. Any one who has ever read any of Mokie Joe's posts knows-when did that ever stop him? I got my own to treasure & I think that it is great. Before the bio, I hadn't known that Dad buried himself in the snow for two days when his unit was over run by Nazis. Or that he was a POW for 6 days until the Scotish came over the hill, bag pipes & all & rescued him. I knew that one of the many times that he parachuted into occupied France, that a fellow soldier's chute failed to open, and he landed on dad's chute & somehow, they both landed safely...to find out that they were both from Peoria, Illinois!

I have never been to a service like my father's on Friday. My Harvard grad. nephew delivered the eulogy & centered it on what he thought were the 3 major themes of Daddy's life, "Courage, Passion, and Joy."

My hometown's most recognized voice, a radio news man, Sam Simmermaker spoke twice. The gentlemen who had delivered Communion to Dad & Rene the last 3 years at their nursing homes offered prayers and scripture. And laughter through tears was everywhere there.

The picture board that my Angel sister Jan put together was phenomenol & folks kept going back to it, over and over.

It was a funeral service for a man you didn't know,for a man who never met a stranger-but, man, I wish that you had been there. It truly was a celebration.

My niece dedicated a Michael Buble' tune at the end of the ceremony, but I don't know the title & have googled in vain trying to find the lyrics...I bet that you know it, though...it goes:

"Birds in the sky, you know how I feel,
River running high, you know how I feel...

It's a new life, it's a new world,
and I'm... feeling good..."

He suffered so much there in that nursing home, it is time for him to suffer no more...

"And Papa I don't think I
told you, I love you near enough..."

Oh, but my sweet Daddy, I tried. I tried.

The magic in his music, in his smile, in his jokes, in his touchhhh...the father that I have always adored is dead. Shortly after 6 this morning, I got the call...but I pretty well knew when I left his room last night, after the 5th time my sister begged me to go on home. It was getting dark & I don't drive as easily in the dark as I used to, so finally, I agreed to go. But I kissed him and smoothed his brow 3 times pretty much knowing that this was the last goodbye. I told him I'd be back, but I think we both knew that it was wishful thinking. Leaving the nursing home's air conditioning, going out the back door into the staff parking lot into June's evening heat, I was racked with chills, and I felt then, again, that I knew. I hoped I was wrong, then I hoped I was right, but nonetheless, I felt like I knew that I was leaving him for the last time. I cried for a long time in the parking lot-probably not for the last time, as we promised him over and over again that we would not desert his wife.

I awoke at 5 this morning, after a fitful mixed-up night of sleep and wide-eyed somber wakefulness. The rain was sprinkling around the back porch and the patio, as distant thunder rolled softly in the distance. And of course, as always, my head pounded with the coming of the rain. When the phone rang, I knew before answering, but answered it anyway, as it had to be done.

"It's all OK, now," said Angel sister Jan, "It was peaceful. Kathy was with him, and it was peaceful."

It's all over now, except the crying, and when Daddy's little girl loses her Daddy, the crying goes on and on...

Taps

Day is done,
Gone the sun,
from the lakes
From the hills
From the sky,
All is well,
Safely rest,
God is nigh.

Goodnight, sweet soldier Daddy of mine. I have never known a man so well loved here on earth, and surely, the love in Heaven has only begun to ring...