In Memorium – Carmella Helen DeCarlo

                                                        My Mother – My Best Friend
          Describing watching my mother die as being a painful and traumatic experience is definitely an understatement.
          She was so sick this past year that it should not have been such a shock when she passed but I do not think one is ever truly prepared for it. She suffered so much that I would ask God every night that if He was going to take her, to please do it soon to end her suffering.   Also, I asked Him for something else, to please let me be there when her soul took flight so she would not be alone.
          On May 30, 2012, I was on the couch next her hospital bed we had brought into my home for her. I fell asleep, woke up, looked at the clock and it said 1:28 a.m. I went over to her, took her hand and maybe not a minute or two later as I stood there telling her how much I loved her, she took her last breathe. Some would call that a coincidence but not me. Someone or something woke me just before she died so I could be right there. God gave me, and her, what we wanted – for mom to stop suffering. He granted my request to be with her when her soul departed. Yet, I still feel so miserable.
          Mom was the most loving, caring and unselfish person I knew.   My “go to” person. You could trust her 100% to be there for you and she always put others before herself. That was one of her “faults.” She was just too nice if there is such a thing.
          I can remember being a teenager going to shop for clothes or just going to a movie, we would just laugh at the silliest things. I am so grateful we spent so much time together. I knew then and now even more how lucky I was to have such a mom.
          She was my best friend and there is a hole in my heart and a void in my life that is crushing to my spirit. This is the downside of having such a wonderful person in your life that you love so much. When they leave, it just makes it even more unbearable.
          Nothing will ever be the same.
          Thank you, God, for the time I had with such a person – my mother.
         And thank you, Mom, for being there for me – always.  I miss you so much.
         I love you.

Faith Hope Love

Mom should have been out of the hospital and home  much sooner than this.  Still now in a sort of half-way medical facility (somewhere between the hospital and extended rehab) she has gone from breaking her hip to several different infections.  The infections are not the cause of her injury.  No, these are things she contracted while in the hospital and/or rehab.  She has gone through a horrible infection called “C-Diff”, several UTIs and now pneumonia for the second time.  The pain and suffering that mom has endured the past several months is unbelievable.  When talking to her she sounds like someone who is really trying to keep it together but just cannot take it anymore.  Hope seems like a distant memory to her. 

All of my life I have heard her talk about how one should do everything they can to preserve their life.  Being she is Catholic, the mother I know believes it is a great sin to “opt-out” and that to do so means spending your afterlife in eternal suffering.  In other words, not to do everything you can to keep yourself alive (regardless of the circumstances) is the equivalent of suicide.  

However, lately mom has been saying things that are not like her.  Instead of going through some awful operation that would leave her without dignity, she is talking about letting it end.  I have heard about elderly people who just decide enough is enough and they stop eating and just let themselves go.  I ask her where is her faith?

I am at my wit’s end.  To make a person suffer just to stay alive is cruel.  Yet, this is my mother.  I love her dearly and do not want to lose her.   Yet seeing her suffer is a nightmare.  

This experience tells me that in certain situations some people really do not know what they would do – even if it means going beyond their religious beliefs.  Who would have guessed she would even think such things?  Not me.  We are extremely close.  I have not lost my hope that she will come out of this alright .  Nor have I lost my faith in God if he plans otherwise.

Remember Me?

One of the things that bothers me about  human beings is how much enjoyment comes from speaking in a derogatory manner about one another.  That is why when I read the following, it struck me as to how the author (who is basically unknown), was able to get it so right.  I have known people who have been hurt badly by untruths – to the point of tears.  Now, I am not going to paint myself white here.  Years ago, I realized that some things that came out of my mouth were unnecessary.  When those moments occurred, it was at a time when I was not feeling particularly good about myself.  So there is a motive – unhappy with yourself – then try to find fault with someone else.  Trust me, it does not work.  Your feeling of satisfaction is short-lived and does not change who you are or make you any better.  That is why I purposely stay clear of gossip, hearsay, or anything remotely close to it.  Learning that alone will give one peace of mind. 

Whether you are familiar with this writing or not, another read will not hurt you, will it?

                                                          REMEMBER ME?

                                                         (Author Unknown)

My name is Gossip.  I have no respect for Justice.  I maim without killing.  I break hearts and ruin lives.

I am cunning and malicious and gather strength with age.

The more I am quoted the more I am believed.  I flourish at every level of society.  My victims are helpless.  They cannot protect themselves against me because I have no name and no face.

To track me down is impossible.  The harder you try, the more elusive I become.  I am nobody’s friend. 

Once I tarnish a reputation, it is never quite the same.

I topple governments and wreck marriages.

I ruin careers, cause sleepless nights, heartache and indigestion.

I spawn suspicion and generate grief.

I make innocent people cry in their pillows.

Even my name hisses.  I am called Gossip.  Office gossip.  Shop gossip.  Party gossip.  I make headlines and headaches.  Before you repeat a story ask yourself:  Is it true?  Is it fair?  Is it necessary? 

If not – do not repeat it,


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