I've mentioned before on this blog and also on my Facebook account about my dear friend, Anne, who is suffering from brain cancer.
She underwent major brain surgery a few weeks ago, and although she is home now and under the excellent care of Roswell Park Cancer Institute, her doctors give her a time frame of around two years.
Despite our age difference (I'll be 29 and Anne will be 83), I never had a closer friend and confidant than I have had these 13 or so years with Anne. I'm naturally an old soul (some would say an old fart) and she is very much a perpetual young soul.. so the age difference balanced out well.
She has always been an example to me to not let life's obstacles beat you.. but to keep charging full speed ahead.. a life lesson I still have yet to learn. Despite being slowed by the cancer, the radiation and the chemo... she may have slown down, but she is still charging ahead. I admire her for her courage and her strength - not only in dealing with her own illness, but in caring for her husband who suffers from Alzheimer's disease.
I spoke briefly with her this evening before her next chemo treatment and she told me that she is now looking into assisted living apartments. "Did you ever think you would hear ME talking about assisted living?" No.. it's true, I never imagined this outcome for a woman so full of life and vitality, but I told her this decision proves her intelligence and bravery... to which she replied, "you calling me intelligent is something I never thought I would hear YOU talking about!"
It's so easy for us (and I certainly lump myself into this category) to wallow in self pity.. asking "why me?". While it's healthy to feel the emotions we have while we receive them.. to grieve and feel the pain or despair.. it's too easy to stay in that despair and let it consume us. Anne is accepting the inevitable.. as she always has.. and looking to see how she can keep moving forward.. even if it means big changes.
She has taught me a great many things about life during our friendship... sometimes just by being a sounding board for me to work out problems on my own. I'd like to think I taught her a thing or two as well over the years... and even she admits I have corrupted her a bit (she was such a nice "old" lady when I met her!). Now I have come to realize the very brutal reality that now she is teaching me to die. We don't discuss things like "life expectancy" or "how long she has"... we just talk about what needs to be done in life now.. and how to best accomplish those tasks.
She keeps telling me the punch line of an old joke.. that she doesn't want to go to her grave in pristine condition, but sliding into the grave bruised and worn out exclaiming: "Damn! What a ride!"
I ask all of you out there to continue to keep Anne in your thoughts and prayers.
Friday, May 20, 2011
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Bring flowers of the rarest - bring blossoms the fairest...
The month of May is traditionally dedicated to the Holy Mother. When I was a kid in Catholic school, I fondly remember the May Crowning processions in which a chosen student would place a crown of flowers upon the head of the Church's statue of Mary... and other students would place flowers near the statue in her honor. When I would come home from school, I'd make my own "May altar" which consisted of a bust of Mary that I had - which I would crown with a paper crown - and two or three carnation flowers I'd buy from the local 7-11.Every May I think of my yearly trek to the 7-11.. which is now a used car dealership. I would be so proud to ride my bike and purchase flowers for Mary with my own money. Where I got the money I don't recall.. since I always did this in secret. Some how, I can't imagine Mom giving me the okay to spend money on flowers.
It is for this reason that I think carnations have always been my favorite flower. I love them - their very scent brings such happy memories.
This year, as I have done since I was a kid, I went and bought Mary some carnations. I went to Wegman's on the way home from work and picked up a small bouquet. When I do this, I not only like to honor my heavenly mother, but I try to remember and recapture some of the simple faith I had as a child. Too often as an adult I am obsessed with over thinking everything.
Once while dating my first boyfriend.. we got in a big fight. He was wrong (naturally hahaha!) and thought he could win me over with flowers (something he knew I loved but never once bought for me). He came home one day with a single carnation. I remember thinking, "who buys ONE carnation?". They are the cheapest flowers at the flower shop. While I liked the flower, it didn't get him out of hot water.
As I placed the flowers next to my statue of Mary I asked: "Since I'm giving YOU flowers, would you send me a guy who will bring ME flowers?" We'll see what her response is. :)
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Achy Breaky Heart
I had a very creepy start to the day. There I was, minding my own business with my ass in a chair, waiting for the water in the kettle to boil so I could have a jumbo cup of tea before work. Out of no where, it felt as if someone was squeezing my heart... a pain that radiated to my back.
I am no stranger to back pain.. having had bad flair-ups of "sciatica" (a term I feel doctors use when they have no idea the exact problem with your lower back). This was similar, only it now involved my heart.
"Am I having a heart attack or did I simply pull something??" -- I made my way to the phone and called my Dad. I knew he was probably out on his walk, but figured I could get his opinion over the phone. He at least has had some emergency response training and has also lived through a heart attack. No answer. Ugh.. so much for the convenience of cell phones!
The tightening in my chest was so bad I couldn't make the stairs on my own. I grabbed a near by walking stick (aka my pimp cane) to help me up the stairs. I don't know how I made it to the top, but I did. I stood there, leaning on my walking stick, unable to move. In the loudest voice I could muster, I got my Mom's attention and managed to sit in a chair.
It was a scary feeling to say the least. The pain is one thing, but the thought of a heart attack is quite another. Mom wanted to call the ambulance.. I said no. I hadn't even showered yet. I wasn't going any where! There was no pain in my jaw or in my arm -- I took two aspirin to be on the safe side.
Still not being able to get a hold of Dad, Mom made me promise to stay put while she took a quick shower in case I did decide to go to the hospital. Never being one to follow sound advice, I seriously debated making my way back downstairs to shower and get dressed while Mom wasn't around. If I wasn't going to the hospital, I had to leave for work in a half hour! Decisions - decisions.
Just as I thought the pain was going away, it flared up again and I decided not to risk moving. After about 20 minutes the pain subsided enough that I could shower and get ready for work.
I am now convinced it was all just some sort of muscle spasm caused from the exercising I have been doing lately. I felt fine all through work, just have a slight soreness in my chest.. like if you've ever had a bruise after hitting something -- not painful per say.. but enough to remind you it's there.
After all this drama, I was only 5 minutes late to work. I rock!
I am no stranger to back pain.. having had bad flair-ups of "sciatica" (a term I feel doctors use when they have no idea the exact problem with your lower back). This was similar, only it now involved my heart.
"Am I having a heart attack or did I simply pull something??" -- I made my way to the phone and called my Dad. I knew he was probably out on his walk, but figured I could get his opinion over the phone. He at least has had some emergency response training and has also lived through a heart attack. No answer. Ugh.. so much for the convenience of cell phones!
The tightening in my chest was so bad I couldn't make the stairs on my own. I grabbed a near by walking stick (aka my pimp cane) to help me up the stairs. I don't know how I made it to the top, but I did. I stood there, leaning on my walking stick, unable to move. In the loudest voice I could muster, I got my Mom's attention and managed to sit in a chair.
It was a scary feeling to say the least. The pain is one thing, but the thought of a heart attack is quite another. Mom wanted to call the ambulance.. I said no. I hadn't even showered yet. I wasn't going any where! There was no pain in my jaw or in my arm -- I took two aspirin to be on the safe side.
Still not being able to get a hold of Dad, Mom made me promise to stay put while she took a quick shower in case I did decide to go to the hospital. Never being one to follow sound advice, I seriously debated making my way back downstairs to shower and get dressed while Mom wasn't around. If I wasn't going to the hospital, I had to leave for work in a half hour! Decisions - decisions.Just as I thought the pain was going away, it flared up again and I decided not to risk moving. After about 20 minutes the pain subsided enough that I could shower and get ready for work.
I am now convinced it was all just some sort of muscle spasm caused from the exercising I have been doing lately. I felt fine all through work, just have a slight soreness in my chest.. like if you've ever had a bruise after hitting something -- not painful per say.. but enough to remind you it's there.
After all this drama, I was only 5 minutes late to work. I rock!
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Beatifcation of John Paul II
The Church has just beatified the late Pope John Paul II of blessed memory... taking him one step closer along the official path to sainthood. So what do we see in the media? Constant news reports of sex abuse scandals -- just like we saw during Holy Week. The media is always looking to trash Catholics.. and always seems to do so during our most solemn occasions.
Whether you are Catholic or not, one cannot deny the positive impact that John Paul II had upon the world - his support of life and his tireless effort to end communism in Europe. Though we may disagree with some things he did (show me a person you agree with 100% on all issues!), we cannot disagree on his unending devotion to Christ and His Church... his personal holiness and conviction.
Though he is not yet a saint.. he is one step closer in the tedious examination process that makes one a saint. Part of the reason for the quickness of this process so far is that many of the people in charge of examining the life of John Paul II in the Vatican offices knew the man well and can attest first hand to his holiness.
What is a Saint anyway? Why are saints important? My unofficial and personal answer is that a saint is someone who is still used to do Christ's will even after their deaths. Our Lord has always used others as vehicles to deliver His messages and graces to man kind (such as the angels in scripture) - and still makes use of individuals whom He uses as example to others of holiness and Christian charity/love.
"We love you, John Paul II!"
Whether you are Catholic or not, one cannot deny the positive impact that John Paul II had upon the world - his support of life and his tireless effort to end communism in Europe. Though we may disagree with some things he did (show me a person you agree with 100% on all issues!), we cannot disagree on his unending devotion to Christ and His Church... his personal holiness and conviction.Though he is not yet a saint.. he is one step closer in the tedious examination process that makes one a saint. Part of the reason for the quickness of this process so far is that many of the people in charge of examining the life of John Paul II in the Vatican offices knew the man well and can attest first hand to his holiness.
What is a Saint anyway? Why are saints important? My unofficial and personal answer is that a saint is someone who is still used to do Christ's will even after their deaths. Our Lord has always used others as vehicles to deliver His messages and graces to man kind (such as the angels in scripture) - and still makes use of individuals whom He uses as example to others of holiness and Christian charity/love.
"We love you, John Paul II!"
Thursday, April 28, 2011
This & That
This week, Buffalo has jumped not into Spring.. but into summer. At least that is what it has felt like the past two days. Last week we had some flurries and this week the temps reached the low 70s! Our "springtime" seems to have gotten the short end of the stick this year.. either being cold and wet or unseasonably warm.
Tonight I slept with the windows open. Even after the sun had gone down the temps were still in the mid 60s and humid from the rain we have been getting off and on. It wasn't until this morning that I noticed a stark difference in the world around me... BIRDS! I have become so used to the isolation of being locked up in the house for the colder months that I have forgotten the beautiful background songs of our native feathered friends.
Just as I get excited at the first signs of a new season like the first leaves changing or the first snowfall, the first appearance of the robin is a sure sign that spring has arrived. Although the robins have been back for some time now - and we even have a nest of them just outside my bedroom - it's the song of the birds that is telling me summer can't be far off.
I always think of my Grandfather (Gramps) when I see robins. He had a very simple sense of humor and a simple way of joking with us kids. He loved to tell us non-sense stories that to any adult would seem just plain stupid.. but when he told them in that voice that he ONLY used when speaking to children under 7, it made a lasting imprint of simpler times and simpler joys. Often he'd make up stories along the lines of The Three Bears, substituting anything he could think of for the bears. His favorite story would be: "Once upon a time there were three robins sitting on the fence..... and they all flew away." That was it... end of story. But coming from a man who was otherwise so straight laced, it was funny to us kids.
I've been trying to get up to the rehab center to visit my friend Anne as much as possible. I had a nice visit with her and some of her family Easter Sunday. Two weeks ago doctors found a large brain tumor during an MRI... and three days later she had major surgery to remove it. Sadly, the tumor was found to be cancerous, which is never a good thing... but even worse when those cancer cells are right in the brain.
She seems to be recovering well.. and at 82 is doing much better than I would be after major surgery. Anne always did have a wonderful disposition and positive outlook, always trying to accept the things life throws at her. She seems to have a permanent smile on her face which can still light up a room. We tease her about her shaved head (and she makes jokes too) and laugh at the many "hole in the head" cliches. It would be so easy for someone in her place to wallow in self pity and despair, but she just keeps puttering along... an example to people of all ages that attitude is everything!
She had her first visit to Roswell, our local cancer research hospital (and one of the best in the country!) to see about the extent of the brain cancer and what can be done. I've been hesitant to call her - knowing she probably has visitors - but I've been on pins and needles wondering how her first appointment went. I'm hoping to go and see her tomorrow.
I tell her that the one good thing in all this is that it is infinitely easier to visit her now that she is a captive audience. That woman has always been on the go - doing for others with a passion only Mother Teresa could relate to - so pinning her down for a visit was sometimes difficult.
I'm trying to follow Anne's example and keep a positive outlook... despite my hardcore pessimistic tendencies. If any octogenarian can kick cancer's ass.. it would be Anne!!
Tonight I slept with the windows open. Even after the sun had gone down the temps were still in the mid 60s and humid from the rain we have been getting off and on. It wasn't until this morning that I noticed a stark difference in the world around me... BIRDS! I have become so used to the isolation of being locked up in the house for the colder months that I have forgotten the beautiful background songs of our native feathered friends.
Just as I get excited at the first signs of a new season like the first leaves changing or the first snowfall, the first appearance of the robin is a sure sign that spring has arrived. Although the robins have been back for some time now - and we even have a nest of them just outside my bedroom - it's the song of the birds that is telling me summer can't be far off.
I always think of my Grandfather (Gramps) when I see robins. He had a very simple sense of humor and a simple way of joking with us kids. He loved to tell us non-sense stories that to any adult would seem just plain stupid.. but when he told them in that voice that he ONLY used when speaking to children under 7, it made a lasting imprint of simpler times and simpler joys. Often he'd make up stories along the lines of The Three Bears, substituting anything he could think of for the bears. His favorite story would be: "Once upon a time there were three robins sitting on the fence..... and they all flew away." That was it... end of story. But coming from a man who was otherwise so straight laced, it was funny to us kids.I've been trying to get up to the rehab center to visit my friend Anne as much as possible. I had a nice visit with her and some of her family Easter Sunday. Two weeks ago doctors found a large brain tumor during an MRI... and three days later she had major surgery to remove it. Sadly, the tumor was found to be cancerous, which is never a good thing... but even worse when those cancer cells are right in the brain.
She seems to be recovering well.. and at 82 is doing much better than I would be after major surgery. Anne always did have a wonderful disposition and positive outlook, always trying to accept the things life throws at her. She seems to have a permanent smile on her face which can still light up a room. We tease her about her shaved head (and she makes jokes too) and laugh at the many "hole in the head" cliches. It would be so easy for someone in her place to wallow in self pity and despair, but she just keeps puttering along... an example to people of all ages that attitude is everything!
She had her first visit to Roswell, our local cancer research hospital (and one of the best in the country!) to see about the extent of the brain cancer and what can be done. I've been hesitant to call her - knowing she probably has visitors - but I've been on pins and needles wondering how her first appointment went. I'm hoping to go and see her tomorrow.
I tell her that the one good thing in all this is that it is infinitely easier to visit her now that she is a captive audience. That woman has always been on the go - doing for others with a passion only Mother Teresa could relate to - so pinning her down for a visit was sometimes difficult.
I'm trying to follow Anne's example and keep a positive outlook... despite my hardcore pessimistic tendencies. If any octogenarian can kick cancer's ass.. it would be Anne!!
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Sacred Triduum and Easter Sunday
I was hoping to blog each day of the Sacred Triduum (Holy Thursday, Good Friday and Holy Saturday) explaining the complex traditions and observances of the days -- in my characteristic Catholic-History-Geek way, but as has been the case lately.. time seemed to escape me. So I'll make up for it now! (in an abbreviated version anyway) :-P
Holy Week (Palm Sunday through Holy Saturday) has always been a time of great spiritual renewal for me. I love our rich traditions and observances. Sadly though, working in retail I don't often get to fully participate in the liturgical celebrations.
Holy Thursday is the time when Catholics celebrate Christ's instituting of the Mass and the Eucharist -- done at the Last Supper. After the Mass, the altar is stripped bare in preparation for the solemn remembrance of the passion of Christ on Good Friday. The blessed sacrament is removed from the main tabernacle and placed in a side chapel adorned with flowers and candles where the faithful can stay and pray before our Lord present in the sacrament for the remainder of the night.
I had to miss the Mass, but stopped in for prayer and meditation after work. It's nice to be there when the Church has quieted down, and there are only a few of us there - coming and going all night - to visit the blessed sacrament. I always think of Christ's admonishment to His apostles who fell asleep during his agony in the garden: "Could you not stay awake for one hour?" -- I often hear Him saying: "could you not visit me for one moment?"
This Liturgy also includes the washing of the feet of 12 men.. in imitation of Christ washing the feet of his 12 apostles before the Last Supper. This part always made me uncomfortable and I was always glad I was not one who had to have his feet washed. I could totally sympathize with Peter who felt embarrassed to have Christ wash his feet. It is a good practice in humility though.. both for the priest and those whose feet he is washing. For the rest of us, it is also a public reminder of the humility we should all strive for as well as the charity we should show to one another.
Good Friday is the day we remember Christ's passion and death on the cross. Traditionally, the priest wore black - the traditional color of mourning. Symbolic of the sadness of Christ in His suffering and His brutal death upon the cross. Sadly, in an effort to be a bit more acceptable to "modern tastes", the Church has since adopted the use of red - which they claim is not symbolic of blood, but the symbol of royalty.. for Christ the King. I always thought the color for royalty was purple.. but I digress.
In this Liturgy (there is no Mass or consecration on Good Friday), the priest holds up the crucifix exclaiming: "This is the wood of the cross, on which has hung the savior of the world". Kneeling, we respond: "Come let us adore!" After the cross processes through the Church, the faithful then have the opportunity to come up and venerate the cross - symbol of Christ's suffering - by kissing the cross.
It is always humbling and moving to be attending the Good Friday Liturgy or meditating on the Stations of the Cross at 3pm - which is said to be the hour when Christ died. It's just such an awe inspiring moment to think of everything that happened at that moment in history. If you read the account in the Gospels: the sky growing dark, the earthquakes, the veil in the temple ripping in two. I can't imagine what it must have felt like to see and experience all of that!
Sadly, I did not make it to the Easter Vigil on Holy Saturday. This Mass is not for those who only go to Mass out of guilt and want to "get it over with" as quickly as possible. I love the richness of this Liturgy - though I rarely get to attend it any more. It begins with the blessing of the Easter fire - symbol that Christ is the light of the world - the light in the darkness of our sinfulness. The priest blesses the paschal candle (that big candle used at baptisms).. and lights the candle from the newly lit Easter fire.
The Easter Water... symbol of our Baptism and washing away of sins - is also blessed, and the holy water fonts of the Church are again filled after having been empty since Holy Thursday (or Palm Sunday).
Easter Sunday is the culmination of all the anticipation of the season of Lent... our penance and waiting is now over and it is time to rejoice! I love how the Churches are decorated.. and the wonderful scent of Easter flowers fill the air. Everyone was in their Easter best... one thing I love about my parish.. people still dress to go to Mass!
Going to the "older" traditional form of the Mass, our celebration begins with the singing of the "Vidi Aquam" - "I saw water coming forth from the temple
on the right side, alleluia:
and all those to whom this water came
were saved, and shall say, alleluia, alleluia." (of course we chant it in Latin).
For me, hearing this and seeing the priest bless the congregation with the Easter water from last night's vigil is the official start of Easter!! Reminder that we have been washed clean by the sacrifice of Christ.
After Mass I headed over to my Aunt Joan's house to have brunch with my Dad's side of the family. I swear someone in our family needs to move into a hall or something because we always manage to cram a big group of people into the smallest houses! haha!
My Aunt Joan always puts out a nice spread for brunch while we all laugh and catch up with one another.. as the younger kids hunt for their Easter baskets.
I was treated to another lovely meal at my brother and sister in law's home tonight where Katie out did herself yet again. Katie has an appreciation for elegance and class, and it shows in how she sets and table and serves a meal!!! As always the food was out of this world - and it's nice to watch my little nephew enjoy his Easter in the same home my brother and I did when my Grandparent's lived there. - Religious traditions aren't the only ones I like to see preserved!
I'm very fortunate to have the family and friends that I do... who make holidays like this so wonderful!
I hope all of you have a wonderful Easter season!!
Holy Week (Palm Sunday through Holy Saturday) has always been a time of great spiritual renewal for me. I love our rich traditions and observances. Sadly though, working in retail I don't often get to fully participate in the liturgical celebrations.
Holy Thursday is the time when Catholics celebrate Christ's instituting of the Mass and the Eucharist -- done at the Last Supper. After the Mass, the altar is stripped bare in preparation for the solemn remembrance of the passion of Christ on Good Friday. The blessed sacrament is removed from the main tabernacle and placed in a side chapel adorned with flowers and candles where the faithful can stay and pray before our Lord present in the sacrament for the remainder of the night.
I had to miss the Mass, but stopped in for prayer and meditation after work. It's nice to be there when the Church has quieted down, and there are only a few of us there - coming and going all night - to visit the blessed sacrament. I always think of Christ's admonishment to His apostles who fell asleep during his agony in the garden: "Could you not stay awake for one hour?" -- I often hear Him saying: "could you not visit me for one moment?"
This Liturgy also includes the washing of the feet of 12 men.. in imitation of Christ washing the feet of his 12 apostles before the Last Supper. This part always made me uncomfortable and I was always glad I was not one who had to have his feet washed. I could totally sympathize with Peter who felt embarrassed to have Christ wash his feet. It is a good practice in humility though.. both for the priest and those whose feet he is washing. For the rest of us, it is also a public reminder of the humility we should all strive for as well as the charity we should show to one another.
Good Friday is the day we remember Christ's passion and death on the cross. Traditionally, the priest wore black - the traditional color of mourning. Symbolic of the sadness of Christ in His suffering and His brutal death upon the cross. Sadly, in an effort to be a bit more acceptable to "modern tastes", the Church has since adopted the use of red - which they claim is not symbolic of blood, but the symbol of royalty.. for Christ the King. I always thought the color for royalty was purple.. but I digress.
In this Liturgy (there is no Mass or consecration on Good Friday), the priest holds up the crucifix exclaiming: "This is the wood of the cross, on which has hung the savior of the world". Kneeling, we respond: "Come let us adore!" After the cross processes through the Church, the faithful then have the opportunity to come up and venerate the cross - symbol of Christ's suffering - by kissing the cross.
It is always humbling and moving to be attending the Good Friday Liturgy or meditating on the Stations of the Cross at 3pm - which is said to be the hour when Christ died. It's just such an awe inspiring moment to think of everything that happened at that moment in history. If you read the account in the Gospels: the sky growing dark, the earthquakes, the veil in the temple ripping in two. I can't imagine what it must have felt like to see and experience all of that!
Sadly, I did not make it to the Easter Vigil on Holy Saturday. This Mass is not for those who only go to Mass out of guilt and want to "get it over with" as quickly as possible. I love the richness of this Liturgy - though I rarely get to attend it any more. It begins with the blessing of the Easter fire - symbol that Christ is the light of the world - the light in the darkness of our sinfulness. The priest blesses the paschal candle (that big candle used at baptisms).. and lights the candle from the newly lit Easter fire.
The Easter Water... symbol of our Baptism and washing away of sins - is also blessed, and the holy water fonts of the Church are again filled after having been empty since Holy Thursday (or Palm Sunday).
Easter Sunday is the culmination of all the anticipation of the season of Lent... our penance and waiting is now over and it is time to rejoice! I love how the Churches are decorated.. and the wonderful scent of Easter flowers fill the air. Everyone was in their Easter best... one thing I love about my parish.. people still dress to go to Mass!
Going to the "older" traditional form of the Mass, our celebration begins with the singing of the "Vidi Aquam" - "I saw water coming forth from the temple
on the right side, alleluia:
and all those to whom this water came
were saved, and shall say, alleluia, alleluia." (of course we chant it in Latin).
For me, hearing this and seeing the priest bless the congregation with the Easter water from last night's vigil is the official start of Easter!! Reminder that we have been washed clean by the sacrifice of Christ.After Mass I headed over to my Aunt Joan's house to have brunch with my Dad's side of the family. I swear someone in our family needs to move into a hall or something because we always manage to cram a big group of people into the smallest houses! haha!
My Aunt Joan always puts out a nice spread for brunch while we all laugh and catch up with one another.. as the younger kids hunt for their Easter baskets.
I was treated to another lovely meal at my brother and sister in law's home tonight where Katie out did herself yet again. Katie has an appreciation for elegance and class, and it shows in how she sets and table and serves a meal!!! As always the food was out of this world - and it's nice to watch my little nephew enjoy his Easter in the same home my brother and I did when my Grandparent's lived there. - Religious traditions aren't the only ones I like to see preserved!
I'm very fortunate to have the family and friends that I do... who make holidays like this so wonderful!
I hope all of you have a wonderful Easter season!!
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Eulogy for a Parakeet
This past Wednesday I lost my feathered companion of nearly 10 years. After miraculously recovering from a near fatal respiratory infection at Christmas, my beloved "killer"-parakeet, Tiki, finally gave up the ghost.
I know there are so many people out there who don't understand a person's attachment to animals. I ofter struggle with whether or not we even have the right to keep animals in our homes, rather than letting them remain in the wild. But for those of us who do welcome an animal into our lives, they have a way of touching our hearts forever.
Almost 10 years ago my younger sister insisted on getting a parakeet. A friend of hers was working for a woman who bred birds and hand raised them... allowing them to be much more social than a bird who has spent it's youth only with other birds. My mother was absolutely opposed to the idea... I on the other hand fought the case for my sister. After all, when I was in middle school I had pets of my own (a mouse and later a hamster). I thought it would be good for my sister, and naturally I wouldn't mind helping out where I could.
After wearing down Mom's resistance, we finally went and picked out a bird. Kristy settled on a beautiful blue parakeet - and we gave it the name "Tiki" after the Disney World attraction, "The Enchanted Tiki Room"... the place where loads of animatronic birds sing and dance.
Initially we thought Tiki was a male. It was actually suggested to us that we get her (thinking she was a male) because male parakeets can learn to talk and also tend to have a more mild demeanor. For years, Tiki fooled us.... though we should have guessed her true gender when she would boldly bite our late golden retriever's nose any time he stuck it in her cage, and would ride fearlessly on his back throughout the house --- and drew blood from my father on numerous occasions -- learning that once you teach a bird something (he taught her to bite) it's hard to UN-TEACH it.
It wasn't until we started bird-sitting for a neighbor's parakeet that we discovered Tiki's true nature. When put in the same room as a male, Tiki's biological alarm clock went off and she became an egg laying factory for years to come. "Tiki-man" as we had called the bird became "Tiki-woman". I thought her first egg was hysterical.. my sister thought it was disgusting.
As my mother had envisioned, the novelty of having a bird quickly wore off for my sister, so Tiki became my sole responsibility -- though she remained in my sister's bedroom for most of her life. Not being afraid of the little blue powder puff's temper tantrums, I had no qualms about her being out of her cage. We quickly bonded - a type of bond I didn't know birds were capable of. She knew the sound of my footsteps - even the sound of my car. She would be mostly silent for the majority of the day, and then hear my car pull up or my footsteps coming through the front door and she would start chirping up a storm.
In the early years when she could fly, her and I loved to play tag. She'd sit on the roof of her cage and I'd take off down the hall way -- and she'd come zooming after me. Of course we couldn't do this when Mom was around... as the very sight of Tiki outside the confines of her cage caused my mother to go into cardiac arrest.
Tiki's fierceness and bold nature earned her the nickname of "killer parakeet". Though she did have a very sweet and gentle side, I learned on a few occasions not to cross her. Once, while she was sitting on her cage roof gazing at herself in the mirror, I tried to give her a kiss on the back. When I held her, she was fine with getting kissed and pet.. but once she was perched on her house.. she wanted to be left alone. As I would lean in, she'd turn around and peck at me -- I'd try again.. and again, she'd whip around and peck. Finally, with a slight laugh, I leaned in and kissed her... she whipped around like a shot.. and grabbed my nose with her beak... just enough to make it bleed on and off all night. She taught me that when a bird says "no", she means it!
There are so many stories I could share about her, but there isn't enough memory on my hard-drive to contain them all. She kept me laughing on a constant basis... especially on days when nothing else in the world seemed to make me smile. Some of my fondest memories are just the two of us laying down, her nuzzled against my cheek... cooing her little heart out.
Her last day or so seemed to be rough on her. We're not quite sure what happened -- perhaps it was a burst of energy that people say we get before we die -- perhaps it was something else... but she was going crazy the day before she passed away. She would climb all over her cage trying to get out, and would keep falling from her perches, but would spring right back up and try again. We knew something was wrong. I'd take her out periodically and sit with her, and that would calm her down for a bit.
I couldn't sleep that night thinking of her, and around 12:30am I decided to check on her. I lifted the towel over her cage and saw her sleeping on the floor.. when she saw me she darted up and again attempted to climb the walls of the cage, signaling she wanted out. I took her out and over to the couch where we lay together for a while. She was restless, but eventually settled near my cheek.. pulling gently on the whiskers of my goatee every now and then when I would move my head to glance in her direction. I gave her a kiss on the back and returned her to her cage for her to sleep.
I dreaded waking up in the morning. I knew that if she had survived the night I would have to contact the vet to have her put to sleep. Her increased weakened state and inability to keep herself on a perch was a clear sign the tumor she had developed was finally taking it's toll... or her heart was simply too weak to carry on.
I finally got out of bed around 11:30am.. thinking that if something had happened, my parents would have surely woken me up sooner. As I went up the stairs, I noticed no one was home: Dad was on his walk and mom had gone to a doctor appointment. As I turned to go into the kitchen, I noticed the towel was taken off her cage, and expected to see her napping on the bottom. Sadly, I found she had passed... her little heart finally gave up after both my parents had left the house.
After taking a few minutes to compose myself I quietly laid her to rest in the garden in our back yard. The rain that was falling seemed to echo the tears that were welling up in my eyes as I laid my "baby bird" in the ground. The gift that God had graced me with for so long had now been returned to Him.
Theologians have argued for centuries whether or not animals have souls - and thus go to Heaven. I'm not God.. nor a theologian, but after having the companionship of a dog for 13 years and a bird for nearly 10, I have come to the conclusion that they certainly do. The way they bond with people, the insight into our souls that they seem to have tells me that there is more to them than just what we see on the outside. It is my belief that God gives us these companions to remind man how to love unconditionally.. something we seem to forget often.
The house is a very different place without Tiki... no chirps or squeaks... or squawks... radiating through the house. That simple yet beautiful presence is now gone, and we all feel it. I am consoled by a saying a friend told me when my dog passed away, and it can be modified for any animal who has touched our hearts: "Heaven would not heaven be, without my bird to welcome me."
Thanks for 10 years of companionship and love, Tiki-woman! Fly free!
I know there are so many people out there who don't understand a person's attachment to animals. I ofter struggle with whether or not we even have the right to keep animals in our homes, rather than letting them remain in the wild. But for those of us who do welcome an animal into our lives, they have a way of touching our hearts forever.
Almost 10 years ago my younger sister insisted on getting a parakeet. A friend of hers was working for a woman who bred birds and hand raised them... allowing them to be much more social than a bird who has spent it's youth only with other birds. My mother was absolutely opposed to the idea... I on the other hand fought the case for my sister. After all, when I was in middle school I had pets of my own (a mouse and later a hamster). I thought it would be good for my sister, and naturally I wouldn't mind helping out where I could.
After wearing down Mom's resistance, we finally went and picked out a bird. Kristy settled on a beautiful blue parakeet - and we gave it the name "Tiki" after the Disney World attraction, "The Enchanted Tiki Room"... the place where loads of animatronic birds sing and dance.
Initially we thought Tiki was a male. It was actually suggested to us that we get her (thinking she was a male) because male parakeets can learn to talk and also tend to have a more mild demeanor. For years, Tiki fooled us.... though we should have guessed her true gender when she would boldly bite our late golden retriever's nose any time he stuck it in her cage, and would ride fearlessly on his back throughout the house --- and drew blood from my father on numerous occasions -- learning that once you teach a bird something (he taught her to bite) it's hard to UN-TEACH it.
It wasn't until we started bird-sitting for a neighbor's parakeet that we discovered Tiki's true nature. When put in the same room as a male, Tiki's biological alarm clock went off and she became an egg laying factory for years to come. "Tiki-man" as we had called the bird became "Tiki-woman". I thought her first egg was hysterical.. my sister thought it was disgusting.
As my mother had envisioned, the novelty of having a bird quickly wore off for my sister, so Tiki became my sole responsibility -- though she remained in my sister's bedroom for most of her life. Not being afraid of the little blue powder puff's temper tantrums, I had no qualms about her being out of her cage. We quickly bonded - a type of bond I didn't know birds were capable of. She knew the sound of my footsteps - even the sound of my car. She would be mostly silent for the majority of the day, and then hear my car pull up or my footsteps coming through the front door and she would start chirping up a storm.
In the early years when she could fly, her and I loved to play tag. She'd sit on the roof of her cage and I'd take off down the hall way -- and she'd come zooming after me. Of course we couldn't do this when Mom was around... as the very sight of Tiki outside the confines of her cage caused my mother to go into cardiac arrest.
Tiki's fierceness and bold nature earned her the nickname of "killer parakeet". Though she did have a very sweet and gentle side, I learned on a few occasions not to cross her. Once, while she was sitting on her cage roof gazing at herself in the mirror, I tried to give her a kiss on the back. When I held her, she was fine with getting kissed and pet.. but once she was perched on her house.. she wanted to be left alone. As I would lean in, she'd turn around and peck at me -- I'd try again.. and again, she'd whip around and peck. Finally, with a slight laugh, I leaned in and kissed her... she whipped around like a shot.. and grabbed my nose with her beak... just enough to make it bleed on and off all night. She taught me that when a bird says "no", she means it!
There are so many stories I could share about her, but there isn't enough memory on my hard-drive to contain them all. She kept me laughing on a constant basis... especially on days when nothing else in the world seemed to make me smile. Some of my fondest memories are just the two of us laying down, her nuzzled against my cheek... cooing her little heart out.
Her last day or so seemed to be rough on her. We're not quite sure what happened -- perhaps it was a burst of energy that people say we get before we die -- perhaps it was something else... but she was going crazy the day before she passed away. She would climb all over her cage trying to get out, and would keep falling from her perches, but would spring right back up and try again. We knew something was wrong. I'd take her out periodically and sit with her, and that would calm her down for a bit.
I couldn't sleep that night thinking of her, and around 12:30am I decided to check on her. I lifted the towel over her cage and saw her sleeping on the floor.. when she saw me she darted up and again attempted to climb the walls of the cage, signaling she wanted out. I took her out and over to the couch where we lay together for a while. She was restless, but eventually settled near my cheek.. pulling gently on the whiskers of my goatee every now and then when I would move my head to glance in her direction. I gave her a kiss on the back and returned her to her cage for her to sleep.
I dreaded waking up in the morning. I knew that if she had survived the night I would have to contact the vet to have her put to sleep. Her increased weakened state and inability to keep herself on a perch was a clear sign the tumor she had developed was finally taking it's toll... or her heart was simply too weak to carry on.
I finally got out of bed around 11:30am.. thinking that if something had happened, my parents would have surely woken me up sooner. As I went up the stairs, I noticed no one was home: Dad was on his walk and mom had gone to a doctor appointment. As I turned to go into the kitchen, I noticed the towel was taken off her cage, and expected to see her napping on the bottom. Sadly, I found she had passed... her little heart finally gave up after both my parents had left the house.
After taking a few minutes to compose myself I quietly laid her to rest in the garden in our back yard. The rain that was falling seemed to echo the tears that were welling up in my eyes as I laid my "baby bird" in the ground. The gift that God had graced me with for so long had now been returned to Him.
Theologians have argued for centuries whether or not animals have souls - and thus go to Heaven. I'm not God.. nor a theologian, but after having the companionship of a dog for 13 years and a bird for nearly 10, I have come to the conclusion that they certainly do. The way they bond with people, the insight into our souls that they seem to have tells me that there is more to them than just what we see on the outside. It is my belief that God gives us these companions to remind man how to love unconditionally.. something we seem to forget often. The house is a very different place without Tiki... no chirps or squeaks... or squawks... radiating through the house. That simple yet beautiful presence is now gone, and we all feel it. I am consoled by a saying a friend told me when my dog passed away, and it can be modified for any animal who has touched our hearts: "Heaven would not heaven be, without my bird to welcome me."
Thanks for 10 years of companionship and love, Tiki-woman! Fly free!
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