Category: Family

All things family

Posted in Family, Moving forward, Us

Chapters

Posted on by kokomeau

I like to think of my life in chapters. The first chapter would obviously be my childhood where I grew up in a large Irish-Catholic family with all the challenges and joys inherent therein. While the teen years are still part of childhood, for me, looking back, it was a new chapter filled with insecurities, bad choices, a bit of fun, and some life-changing events. My third chapter, filled with college independence, learning to fly, and being on my own, while scary and challenging, would have to be high on my list of happy times.

Chapter four brought a new life with a young husband, lots of moves around the country, having children and raising them mostly alone. It entailed learning a new career, a new hobby, and finally struggling to find a way to survive a dysfunctional relationship while bringing up healthy adults. 30 years is a long time in the institution when it’s a good marriage. When it’s not, it’s a jail sentence. In chapter five, after a contentious divorce, I moved from Michigan to Florida. With my grown kids starting their own lives, I left behind a shuttered business, a foreclosed home, and a broken family in an attempt to pick up the pieces of what was left of my life and start fresh in the sunshine state.

Moving on isn’t easy. Change can be scary. A second failed relationship had me questioning my choices. I eventually found work in the healthcare field of home health, then found my niche in hospice. In chapter six I finally purchased my own place. Being totally independent gave me the faith in myself that I needed to really start fresh. I put my past behind me and learned to depend on ME, slowly regaining a confidence I thought was lost forever. With a move so far from home and being alone, I consoled myself with the somewhat hopeful thought that people like to visit warm places in the winter, and maybe, with time, that would happen. It eventually did, and I found I could relax and enjoy sharing this little slice of heaven with others without feeling like I had to explain any longer why I was there.

In chapter seven. I believed I’d met my last love. I (mostly) retired, moved into a 55+ community, and brought my wonderful 93-year-old mom into our home to live out her days with us. I had kids and grandkids just a few miles away. The future seemed so promising. But after the wretched COVID year of 2020, life with him changed forcing me into yet another failed relationship. My mom had to go back to Michigan where she died a month later. My kids moved back north. I went into a tailspin.

Chapter eight was one of healing, moving, trying to find my place after a very long and broken road. I ultimately landed in a lovely condo in the trees of Palm Coast, just a mile from the peace of the ocean. I was completely independent, slowly learning how to trust myself by giving it all to God, the Universe, whatever you want to call it. I started manifesting my future as I’d wished it would be. And as I grew closer to some of my siblings, I learned to be happy and content with my life.

The next chapter is still hard for me to grasp. Chapter 9 has come with the fulfillment of all my dreams! In my gratitude to God, I was brought the most wonderful man who has shown me what real, grown-up, unselfish love is. I’ve moved to his home in The Villages. Daily I am grateful and thankful, and we both shake our heads at how lucky we are to have found each other.

I anticipate wonderful chapters ahead! I’m actually one of those people who will often read the end of a book first so I’m prepared for what’s coming. I can’t do that in this situation. I will simply have to expect the unexpected, make plans but not plan on them, and meet each new day with Irish optimism and the belief that in following God’s plan for me, I cannot go wrong. Would I go back and rewrite some chapters if I could? I don’t think so. They are what brought me to this place, and I, for one, wouldn’t change a thing.

Posted in Childhood, Family

Revisiting memory lane

Posted on by kokomeau

When my sister Kathleen and I were young, we had a cousin near our age who lived close by. She was the daughter of our favorite aunt, my mother’s only sister, and we were as tight as sisters ourselves. She was a year younger than me, was mildly dramatic, and had a mad crush on our oldest cousin John. Oh, she was a dynamo!

While we were very tight growing up, once we entered the real world as adults married with children, as often happens, we drifted apart. Aside from the occasional get-together, we all lived our lives rather independently of one another. Eventually, after some tumultuous times, my cousin moved out east and made a wonderful life for herself with a wonderful man.

But here I must digress for a moment . . .

When my mom was about eight years old, her dad built a little white cottage on a bluff overlooking Lake Huron. It’s the white one in the gallery below. There’s not an inch of it that would pass code nowadays, but to a person, it was our happy place in the summer. We spent countless weekends at ‘The Lake,’ our large family sleeping in the makeshift bunkhouse that Grampa built upstairs in the garage at the rear of the property. DCF would have had a field day with it, but that’s a whole different story.

One ‘tradition,’ if you can call it that, from days of old driving up to The Lake was to be the first one to yell, ‘I see Grampa’s si-gn!’ in a sing-song voice where all the kids would join in until we turned onto the long dirt road leading down to the cottage. Then the entire family would begin singing in loud voices, windows down, to the tune of Auld Lang Syne, “We’re here because we’re here because we’re here because we’re heeeeeere! We’re here because we’re here because we’re here because we’re heeeeeere! ” It didn’t end there. It was repeated over and over until we came to a stop at the back yard of the cottage, all of us piling out with our brown paper bags of clothes, the bigger ones helping the littler ones while Gramma and Grampa and any other adults already there would begin the long walk from the cottage to the drive. Our cousins would race ahead of them to get to us, all of us excited to be there even though we might have seen each other just the weekend before!

The memories are sweet and never-ending.

Fast forward to 2022. After Mom’s burial last June, I was invited to spend some time with Julie at The Lake. She and her husband had purchased the place next door to the cottage and remodeled and refurbished it to be a haven for any and all visitors. And there were always visitors. During my long weekend there, we talked of our shared childhood and about how much fun we all used to have, recalling the later years when, with Molly, the four of us would take the train out of Sarnia to Toronto and see a show or two, ride the subway to the comedy clubs, and simply laugh ourselves silly over stories we’d never share otherwise. That’s when Julie came up with the idea of starting an annual Girls’ Weekend at her place in late August. Needless to say, we all jumped at the chance!

I was lucky enough to drive with Kathleen, and all the way there we reminisced about the days at The Lake. We shared similar stories from different perspectives, wondered repeatedly at the sleeping arrangements we’d all endured, and exclaimed whenever we saw something familiar along the route. Finally arriving at our turn onto the still-dirt road, we glanced at each other. Then we both started singing at the top of our lungs, tears running down our cheeks, as we retraced the memory lane of our youth to create new memories while reliving the old.

In the immortal words of our sainted mother,
Are we lucky or wot?

  • So great to be together again!
  • The cottage, circa 1934.
  • Julie and Rob’s beautiful home next door to the cottage.
  • Morning view from the house.
  • Too much fun anchored out with toddies!
  • We’re IN!
  • Enjoying a beach toddy.
  • A familiar sight!
  • Moonrise.
  • Grampa helped build that chimney where the house next door originally stood.
  • Sunrise.
  • Coffee on the balcony.
  • Kathy couldn’t make it the following year 😦
  • Molly got in this year!
Posted in Family, Lucky Eleven

Yet another GREAT GAME!

Posted on by kokomeau

Wow. It’s the end of July. How did this many months go by without one peep outta me? Let’s see if I can do a condensed version of the past several months. At least I’m in the same place I was when I posted in March. Considering my last year, that’s saying a lot.

Since March I’ve been working a lot with the Daytona Beach branch of Gentiva, by request. And for the past three months I have requested a pay increase or at least some kind of promised bonus, but nothing has come of that so far, to the point where if I am asked to do anything more, I will politely decline.

I met a nice man on Match named Jim. He’s a Bronx, NY, kind of guy, works full-time at Lowe’s. Very  nice. We have lots in common, but I do believe he’s Mr. Right-Now rather than Mr. Right.

And besides, currently I am in Michigan where I arrived on July 14th with the help my Bro Kev. I moved into my little place on Lake 2 on the 19th and really like it. Very peaceful, beautiful views, quiet.

On the 22nd we drove up to the Soo for the wedding of Connor and Sophie and had a blast. All my kids were together along with their dad. I thoroughly enjoyed watching the dancing, being deviants with Meg, Molly, and Teri, and chatting it up with everyone. It was a great party.

The following Tuesday, Meg rented a pontoon boat, and Kevin dragged it up to Burt Lake in Indian River.  With a big inflatable float from Bro Bri, all the young kids plus Drew had a blast being dragged around the lake with Drew taking a couple dunks when Kevin agreed to oblige that wish. Picnicing on the beach was made easy by everyone helping out, and the three little girls – Scarlett, Audrey, and Evie – played so well together. They even spent an overnight with Aunt Meg and did GREAT!

Thursday was a family-wide gathering at Kevanna’s that even brought Lesa, Hannah, Geno, and Zack from the Nugent side. What a great surprise! There was quite the crowd, beautiful weather, and fun water-balloon tossing. It was yet another great day.

So now everyone is heading back to their respective homes – except me. I’m in Michigan through the month of August when, at the end, I’ll pick up Anita, and together we’ll drive back to Florida. She’ll stay a bit, then she’ll fly back home.

But I’m having withdrawals, which I knew would happen. Suddenly no one is around. I went out today and had lunch alone then came home. My sister is involved with her husband in TC, and everyone who is local has gone on with their busy lives. So I’m working and reading, not getting the exercise I need, and missing my kids. I’ll have to get over to Kevanna’s and get a ‘kid fix’ this week.

After that, I will head down to my 50th class reunion on Friday this week. Now THAT should be very interesting. I wasn’t going to go; I had lots of good reasons not to. But what the heck. It’s the last time I’ll ever see these people, no doubt about it. I won’t recognize anyone, and vice versa. At least it’ll be good for a laugh!

Posted in Family, Just for fun, Travel

“THAT was a GREAT GAME!”

Posted on by kokomeau

Perhaps you remember when Robin Williams played Peter Pan in the movie “Hook,” the story about a grown man with two kids and a wife, a businessman who has forgotten who he is. There’s a line near the end when he’s finally leaving Neverland and the Lost Boys. During their goodbyes, one of the smaller boys exclaims, “THAT was a GREAT GAME!” describing their last adventure with Peter and Captain Hook. To me it summed up the movie perfectly.

Seems like after every road trip with my daughter Meg or yet another new ‘adventure’ with her, I feel like saying that. Because it always is! And this last time was no exception. The short story was that I would fly out to Albuquerque on Thanksgiving day, help her pack up her car and clean the house, and the next day we would begin our trek back to Florida, stopping at her brother’s in Edmond, just north of Oklahoma City, for a quick overnight before driving the rest of the way home.

Except early in the morning the day we were to leave, Meg really wanted me to see a New Mexico sunrise. Since I had gained two hours and I’m an early-bird anyway, I was up and ready to go well before I needed to be. She had a particular place in mind about 25 minutes south where she said it was the perfect spot. So off we went. The Albuquerque skies were clear and star-studded, but as we drove south to Los Lunas, it became quite foggy as if we were driving into the clouds. I suggested we may not be able to see the sunrise here, but she wanted to keep going just in case it cleared. Finally, after driving through town and onto some dirt roads, she stopped the car, sighed, and said, “Well, I wanted it to be a surprise, but I don’t know if it’s going to happen now. We were going for a sunrise hot-air-balloon ride. Merry Christmas!”

I was stunned, and then I was so disappointed, and then so appreciative, all at the same time! Here we were with a helluva long drive ahead of us, but knowing how sad I was to have missed the balloon festival, she had arranged for me to go up in a hot air balloon! This kid!

After driving onto the field where the crew was, it was decided we would head back to Albuquerque where the weather was clear. We might miss the sunrise, but I didn’t care. I love anything to do with flying, and Meg knew it. She had decided if I was finally in Albuquerque, I was getting my first balloon ride. So back we went.

It was chilly and crisp. We rose to around 2600 feet, moving with the air in total silence until the burners were lit. I’ll never forget the quiet. Even with a basketful of people, it was quiet. I’ve been in big and small airplanes, open-cockpits and gliders. But this was different. And while I don’t like walking towards the edge of anything high up and looking down – my knees turn to jelly – I had no trouble in that basket. I don’t know why. It was just … peaceful. And yes, I did think of Dorothy and Kansas and Oz. How could I not?

After landing (with the help of a large bush and a lot of laughter) we were asked if we wanted to assist in packing it up. Slowly and carefully that gigantic balloon was deflated, folded, and repacked into a large canvas bag that weighed well over 400 pounds. Everyone took turns having their picture taken on it to get any remaining air out!

It was a short four days, but as always with Meg, we packed as much into them as we could. After three great highlights to the trip – getting Meg, the balloon ride, and seeing my son and his family – all I could think of was, “THAT was a GREAT GAME!”

Posted in Family, Mom, Moving forward, Thoughts

She’s right here.

Posted on by kokomeau

I was treated by my cousin Julie to a psychic reading by a medium named Lori Lipton. Because we lived far apart, we did it via Zoom the last week of March. (Mom died March 7, 2024.) To say she was nothing short of amazing and the real thing would be to somehow minimize this meeting.

She began within minutes; in fact, she said so many people were coming through that she was just going to get right to it.

Mom was there immediately, then Dad, then someone she believed was Mom’s brother, and then Gramma Binsfeld.

She said Mom looked just beautiful, but not in the earthly sense; more like angelic. ‘Did we share a name’? (My middle name is hers.) She said Mom seemed very strong for someone who had just passed. She talked about her very, very strong faith, about the Blessed Mother, her love of Jesus.

She said Dad was the love of her life. She saw music between them. She said they were like notes who completed a beautiful chord. “Was there a nickname? I keep hearing – it doesn’t make any sense to me – Okie? Okie- … is it Okie-Dokie’?“

Mom was just SO HAPPY! ‘She can’t believe she can be heard!’ And she wanted me to know “It’s real! There absolutely IS a heaven!!”

Lori relayed, She is so grateful for her family. She keeps saying the word, ‘Lucky.’ ‘Are we LUCKY?!’ I laughed and showed her my tattoo (in Mom’s handwriting, her favorite saying, “Are we lucky – or WOT!”). I showed her Dad’s Smile tattoo. She loved them but said, ‘Your mom doesn’t really like tattoos; she doesn’t know why anyone would do that to their bodies, but she really likes the sentiment.’ I told her Mom had said those exact words to me so many times about ‘someone doing that to their bodies.’ But she never said it directly to anyone who got one.

She mentioned there was a special place on a lake. (She spent her childhood summers on Lake Huron.)

Dad – He was very responsible. He said, about his kids, “If God believes I can have 11 kids, then I can!” She said, “He showed you the way and left it to you to follow.” At the end, he was finally glad to go and was so grateful he went with dignity. They both were.

And then on to me:

I had to say my complete name three times. She said almost immediately but hesitantly, “The Jackson name does not resonate with you.” “Your mom is very disappointed in him.” Then, “He is not who he claimed to be.”

From both Mom and Dad, “Throw that guy out. It’s time to cut your losses, protect your assets. The house is yours if you want it. It’s yours” I had not mentioned anything about the house yet but later learned that the deed was ‘and/or’.

From Mom, “You need to see who you are. You deserve to be here.”

From Dad, “Be fair…as long as you win.”(LOL!)

About Dad:

“He’s very funny. He says he looks about 20 years younger than when he passed.” I asked if I showed her a picture of him would she recognize him; she said sure! I showed her the black and white one we all like. Then she started laughing, kept trying to tell me what he was saying but couldn’t get it out from laughing. She finally said, “He says to tell you he’s even better looking now!”

I asked about Meg:

“Do you share a name with your daughter?” (Our middle names.) “She’s very supportive of you.” She said that Meg would marry, but not until she was in her early 40’s. It will be a wonderful love.

I asked about Amy: “Did she have cancer?” Yes. “I’m seeing something about hair.” I said Amy had asked me to shave the rest of her head when she lost her hair to chemo. “She fought a very tough battle. She loved your mom so much.”

It went on for an hour – the fastest hour ever, I might add. When it was over and done, I had such a feeling of complete happiness. She only confirmed what I already knew, that Mom is here with me always. I talk to her all the time. She helps me find things and reminds me what’s important when my mind wanders too much. And while I grieve her loss, I don’t feel like I miss her in the typical sense. I can’t. She’s right here.

Right here.
Posted in Family, Lucky Eleven, Mom

“*Supermarket Flowers”

Posted on by kokomeau
Rita Marie O’Connor
12-31-1926 to 3-7-2022

Last year I thought my mother was dying. We’d put her on hospice in June of 2021 and watched her decline over a few weeks. And then she rallied. She didn’t come back a hundred percent, but she did come back. She had lots of visitors between June and year’s end, and we celebrated her 95th birthday along with the rest of the world on New Year’s Eve. A month later we discovered a water leak had caused lots of damage and excessive mold in the house, and with that, my siblings decided it was time to bring mom back to Michigan. Within a very short time, we met my brother and his wife at the airport, and mom left us to go to Grand Rapids, Michigan, to a very nice apartment in an assisted living facility where, at 95, she would live by herself for the first time in her life. Even with lots of family members nearby, it did not go well.

Confused, disoriented, looking for her family, she only seemed herself when one of us was with her. She had her walker on hand, but left alone, she would always push it to one side and then hold onto furniture as she made her way around her little place. She couldn’t remember what the SOS bracelet on her wrist was for. Day to day she could not seem to remember why she was there, saying she felt like she was just dropped off and left. Her forgetfulness grew even worse, and though she had visitors every single day, until they came, she was lost. My sister had cameras in place to check on her, but it was heartbreaking to see and hear her confusion at night, knowing there was little to be done but call in and ask someone to please check on her.

And finally she fell. Twice. The first was just a scraped knee. She was shook up but quickly forgot about it. A day later, in the early hours of the morning, either her bad leg gave out or she had a slight stroke. They found her on the floor in the hallway near the bathroom, her left shoulder dislocated. At the hospital, under sedation, they tried to put the shoulder back in, but due to a fractured humerus and her extremely fragile bones, all they could do was strap her in a brace and send her ‘home.’ That day, Monday, February 28th, was the beginning of the end.

I was already scheduled to fly up to see her the following weekend. But after my sister called on Wednesday and asked if I could come sooner, I got on a plane the next day to offer her some much needed relief. Mom was confined to her hospital bed. It took nearly 24 hours, but with Kindred Hospice’s help, we found the right medicinal cocktail to ease the pain and anxiety her ordeal had caused. She had difficulty forming words with enough breath to speak them. She’d stopped eating and drinking.

It was a fast decline from there. All my Michigan siblings came to see her along with many nieces and nephews. She would ask what was happening, and we tried to be honest with her. I slept on the couch in her living room not wanting to be too far away from her. Friday evening I was sitting next to her bed, my head resting on my arm on the half rail combing her hair with my fingers the way she did when I was a child. She turned to look at me and said in her garbled speech, “I love you so, so much.” I said, “I love you more.” She smiled and said, “We could be sisters!” I laughed and told her, “That works for me!” Then she smiled and made a low, breathy, “Huh-huh” laugh. Saturday and Sunday there were lots of visitors, but mom was rarely alert enough to do more than squeeze a hand. Nurses and aides asked if she had said her goodbyes to everyone. We assured them that we had told mom repeatedly that we were all going to be okay and that she can go be with dad. “But has she heard from them all?” She had not.

So Sunday evening I contacted each of the three siblings in Florida and told them we would be calling them and putting the phone to mom’s ear so she could hear them. And this woman, this mother of 11 who had not moved for close to 36 hours, turned her head at the sound of her child’s voice and listened as each one said their separate goodbyes.

Everyone went home, and I eventually went and laid on the couch. I fell into a deep sleep only to be awakened suddenly about 12:35 a.m. I quickly got up and went into mom’s room finding her in the same position, but not breathing. I sat down, put my fingers on either side of her throat and felt a faint pulse. I attempted to sing to her the same song she sang for dad before he died, “Goodnight sweetheart; well, it’s time to go…”

In less than 10 minutes, her heart – her big, beautiful, loving heart – stopped beating, and she died at 12:45 a.m. I sat there with her, combing her hair back, so grateful her spirit woke me to be with her at the end, smiling through my tears thinking about the glorious reunions happening in heaven.

How did I get so lucky, out of 11 kids, to be the one to be there when this sweet, wonderful soul left this earth?

*In the words of Ed Sheeran’s “Supermarket Flowers ©,”

“Hallelujah! 

You were an angel in the shape of my mom. 

You got to see the person I have become. 

Spread your wings, and I know that when

God took you back, 

He said, ‘Hallelujah, you’re home.“

Posted in Childhood, Family, Lucky Eleven

Tradition: the transmission of customs or beliefs from generation to generation.

Posted on by kokomeau

Sixty-plus years ago at a small cottage built by my maternal grandfather on a bluff overlooking Lake Huron, my siblings and a handful of cousins marched in an impromptu Fourth of July parade put together by the various adults in attendance. While my aunt banged away at the piano playing some of the traditional patriotic songs, my dad, waving a large flag, led the small contingent of children around the cottage while the grown ups sang “I’m a Yankee Doodle Dandy,” “You’re a Grand Ole’ Flag,” and any other marching-type song they could think of. Everyone trailed happily along waving little flags totally unaware of why, just having fun marching behind the big guy. This went on year after year after year. As the family grew, the parade – eventually nearly 30 strong – became a favorite tradition along the beach shore. Somewhere along the line someone furnished a long string of gas station flags that we all held onto while dad would holler, “Tighten up that line!” Lining up in front of the flag pole, our hands over our hearts, we would then recite the Pledge of Allegiance. Years later, as we all got older, the parade finally culminated with the bravest of the brave marching into the cold waters of the Great Lake, dad pushing forward until his hat floated on the water.

And now we see my brother Terry carrying on the family tradition this past Fourth of July at his own cottage on Lake Huron with his own kids and grandkids. I clipped these pictures from a video he shared where we could hear him singing the same songs he learned so long ago. Just for fun, he’s the baby in the last picture at the top, where mom is carrying him, more than 50 years ago, at the end of the parade line.

I know there wasn’t a single kid, myself included, who didn’t look at his video and smile. We’re all so grateful to see dad in Terry. It brought back such happy memories of times so long ago; times gone by, but certainly not forgotten. Tradition.

(Pardon the grainy images clipped from old 8mm movies thankfully filmed by my uncle all those years ago.)