Day 8: Dreams – When dreams come true

Day 8: Dreams – When dreams come true

When I was 10 years old, I dreamed that I had died. I saw a coffin with flowers on top, and I noticed a block calendar on a wall with the date April 4.

When I came down to breakfast, my parents and brother saw right away that something was wrong. When I told them about my dream and what I had seen, they dismissed it as unimportant. “It was just a dream,” they said. “It didn’t mean anything.”

I was not convinced though. A few of my other dreams had come true, what if this one did too? In that case, I had less than three months to live. I was only ten years old. My life had only just started and now I might never get to see my eleventh birthday.

Scared that talking about it would only increase the chances of reality, I told no one of this dream, other than my family. As the weeks passed though I grew increasingly worried.

When asked what I wanted for my birthday in May, all I could think of was ... to live. When plans were made for our annual vacation, I wondered if I would be there to join my family.

When my weariness was noticed, my mom and dad asked if I was still thinking of that silly dream. “It means nothing,” they assured me. “Dreams are just images of what we see, hear and experience and the result of an overactive imagination.” Were they right?

I wondered: Why would I dream about dying? Why had I seen everything so clearly? Why could I remember everything so vividly? Other people barely remember their dreams in the morning. 

And why April 4^th? Why not any other day? The questions kept churning and churning around in my mind.

When April 4^th came around, I did everything extra carefully. From the moment I stepped out of bed, I was aware that accidents lurk everywhere.

When I went down the stairs, I held on to the banister and took the steps one at a time, for fear of falling. When I had my breakfast, I chewed carefully so as to not to choke. I refused to go to school for fear of a traffic accident, and when my mother announced she would go grocery shopping, I let her go alone for the very same reason. I wasn’t setting foot on a bus or in a car if my life depended on it (which in a way, it might).

The day crept past and I spend the hours tucked up in a chair, reading. Eventually, it was 10:00 p.m. and time for me to go to bed. “See,” my mom remarked, who hadn’t said anything, but who remembered that this was doomsday for me, “Nothing happened. I told you it was just a silly dream.”

Yes, it would appear she was right. In two hours it would be April 5^th and unless I died in my sleep, I was in the clear. When I woke up the next morning, I quite literally heaved a sigh of relief, so happy that this dark cloud that had been hanging over my head for months had finally gone.

41 years later, on April 4^th, my mother died.

www.connymanero.weebly.com

Writing a Eulogy FAQ

While no one ever wants to write a eulogy, the day might come when you’ll be called upon to write one for a family member, a friend or a colleague.  Eulogies pay tribute to the deceased and finding the right words gives comfort to the living.  Frequently asked questions about writing a eulogy include:

What is a eulogy?

A eulogy touches on the life and achievements of the deceased.  It’s a tribute to his or her life and is an important part of the final farewell.  When asked to deliver a eulogy, it’s important that you prepare well in advance.  Your delivery is another vital component and should be given with sympathy and feeling.

What to include?

Anything you want, as long as you include only positive things about the deceased. 

·       If you’re a family member, concentrate on childhood memories and the mischief you both stirred up growing up.  Give your eulogy a personal and meaningful touch and share something others might not know about the deceased.

·       If you’re a friend, share where and how you met.  Include a few of the experiences you shared. Your eulogy doesn’t have to include only happy experiences.  You can also talk about ups, downs and disappointments so long as the challenges were overcome.  What you cannot do is criticise the deceased or make any negative or critical comments. 

·       As a colleague you can concentrate on work stories.  Under which circumstances you met, the things you worked on together and any after-hours activities you shared.  For the sake of the mourners, keep your stories respectful.

Ask for help

You don’t have to do it alone; you can talk to family and friends.  It’s a misconception that you might distress the family by talking about the deceased because many family members want to share their stories.  If nobody is available, ask permission to visit the person’s house, page through photo albums or read old letters.  You’re bound to recall a few good memories.

What if I’m not good at writing?

You’re not attempting to write a whole biography, notes are good enough to help you keep your train of thought. Write a rough draft and write from the heart alternating between emotional comments and humor.  The end product should have an introduction, a middle part and an ending.  If you can manage it, write something uplifting to make the mourners feel better.

How long should a eulogy be?

While there is no set time frame, a eulogy should not be too short or too long.  If it’s too short it might give the impression that you have nothing good to say about the deceased and this might be construed as lacking respect; however, if it’s too long you might upset the family.  If you talk about the person for five minutes, that is generally an acceptable time frame.

Some people feel that writing a eulogy might be too painful, while for others doing one could be the first step in the healing process.  It might be easier said than done, but it’s important that you attempt to hold your emotions under control.  If you don’t feel that you can, then perhaps you should be honest with the family and explain why you feel you have to decline writing and delivering the eulogy.

Please visit me at www.connymanero.weebly.com

The rest of the story: Zoe needs a new companion

Our guest blogger today is Diane Quinn from Las Vegas.  Diane recently lost her beloved cat Zorro, and successfully introduced a new kitty.  I asked her about this experience and she was kind enough to put "pen to paper".

You last met me when our beloved cat, Zorro, died unexpectedly of a heart condition.  (See EveryCloud Can Have a Silver Lining blog post.)  I introduced you to the Poppy Foundation and explained the outstanding work they do for unhealthy and unadoptable cats.  What I later learned is that our vet, who houses the Poppy Foundation in her hospital, also takes in feline patients when their human owners can no longer keep them.

In the weeks that followed Zorro’s death, we watched as our female Ragdoll, Zoe, went through a disturbing grieving process. Her personality changed, she pulled fur patches off the back of her neck, and she hid a lot under the bed, something she had never done before. She stopped sleeping with us as well. Our normally perky diva was depressed.  Fortunately, after about two months, she seemed almost like her old self again.

I came to realize that Zoe had never been an “only” cat before, and I wondered if she would be happy without a feline companion.  Then I began to think about what would happen when we traveled.  Even though we have two caring friends who stop in and cat sit, I had deep concerns about how she would manage basically by herself for a week at a time.

After a lengthy discussion with my husband who was resistant to getting another cat, he agreed to let me call the Poppy Foundation to see if they had a mature male at least five years old that needed a home. Zoe was about to turn nine, and we didn’t want a large age gap. Turns out they had three candidates.  As we were driving to the foundation, my husband said, “You know, I’d like to have a black cat with green eyes.”  At that point, color was the least of my worries as I focused on age, a personality fit and solid house training. 

When we walked into the Poppy Foundation there sitting on a chair all by himself was a black cat with green eyes. The volunteers told us that his name was BamBam, that he was their official greeter, and that he was one of our candidates. After we met the other two worthy felines, we had to make a decision. We both agreed that charming BamBam was the best suited for our home and as Zoe’s companion. 

We came back four days later to get him after he had a physical, dental work, updated shots and was groomed.  The Poppy Foundation never allows an adoption without knowing the adopter’s background and making sure the cat is in perfect health. 

This event was almost two months ago. The first thing my husband insisted on was giving our new black kitty a “manly” name more suited for his age—Rocky! It took just a matter of days to introduce him to our home. It was obvious that he was happy to find a real home again where he didn’t have to compete for attention.  Zoe was put out at first and exerted her diva personality in mostly non-aggressive ways.  Lucky for us, Rocky’s super friendly and loving personality won her over more quickly than we could ever have expected.

Zoe and Rocky are the best of buddies. They play together, watch birds and lizards side-by-side at the screen doors, and lick and love each other frequently.  Sure, they might have a territorial disagreement on occasion, but after a little boxing match, one usually gives in without any aggression.  More important is that we can go away now without guilt knowing that they have each other for loving companionship.

In memory of Zorro

Diane Quinn is my guest blogger today. I hope that a few of you will share the blog post as Diane talks about Zorro, who recently crossed Rainbow Bridge. At the same time she draws attention to the Poppy Foundation, which deserves a lot of exposure.

Every Cloud Can Have a Silver Lining

In Conny’s last blog post, you learned of the passing of our beloved Ragdoll cat, Zorro, who succumbed to a heart condition called FHC (Feline Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy).  This silent killer is common in Ragdoll and Maine Coon cat breeds.  Quality breeders certify that their cats have been tested and do not carry the FHC gene.  Unfortunately, we adopted Zorro when he was a year old from a friend-of-a-friend who was moving, and he was a day away from being deposited at a shelter. 

One expects older pets to die, but not pets that appear to be in perfect health and in the prime of their life.  That was Zorro—so handsome, so loving, and so special.  The shock of losing him at age eight will linger along with our grief.  Our only solace is that he slipped away without pain on our sofa, in his favorite napping position and with his family nearby.

Many believe that every cloud has a silver lining.  That even in the worst of situations good can emerge to neutralize negativity.  I like to believe that is true.  Toward that end, my goal is to introduce the followers of “Under the Toronto Sun” to a worthwhile foundation that my husband and I support and where we made a donation in Zorro’s name after he died.  It’s called
The Poppy Foundation (http://poppyfoundation.org/) 

The Poppy Foundation is located at the Bonanza Cat Hospital (http://www.lvcatvet.com/) in Las Vegas.  Dr. Linda Steelman is one of those vets unable to turn away a cat in need.  Her hospital is the last stop for unadoptable kitties through the Humane Society and other cat rescue groups.  They are unadoptable because of incurable health conditions or because their injuries have left them so unattractive that no one will adopt them.

Within days after adopting Zorro when he was a year old, I took him for a checkup with Dr. Steelman.  Imagine my surprise when I walked into the hospital’s tiny waiting room and found myself surrounded by cat condo’s filled with snoozing kitties.  Then there were the dozens of others walking around wherever they pleased, even taking advantage of empty laps and head rubs wherever they could find them.  Parents of patients preferred to stand rather than take a chair away from a sleeping feline. The office volunteers often had to remove their furry helpers from the top of the printer, telephone console and sign-in sheets in order to do their jobs.

I admit that my heart skipped a beat the first time I watched three-legged cats limp by, cats with cuts resulting in ugly bald spots on their lovely fur, or who now had to view the world with only one eye.  At one time, when I asked how many cats were in residence, they admitted they had lost count but that they were well over 100. 

I’m happy to report that over a year ago, the Poppy Foundation at the hospital was able to add more space.  There is one large room now dedicated to cages for seriously ill cats (sort of an ICU) and a play area for those kitties that are able and willing. 

I can think of no better way to honor our beloved Zorro than by helping to bring attention to the well run, making a difference, Poppy Foundation.  In addition to money, they are grateful for used cat care items and food donations. 

Even though Conny had never met Zorro (it’s a long way from Toronto and Las Vegas), she came to know him almost as well as one of her own furry gang.  It’s comforting to know that a memorial to him will remain a permanent part of Conny’s “Under the Toronto Sun” blog site.

TTC driver in possession of drugs

In Canada you can do just about anything you like, as long as you don’t smoke regular cigarettes.

If you’re a smoker, prepared to be hated, but if you’re an alcoholic or a drug user, that’s okay, you can even bring your booze and drugs to work.

You have the full backing of the Ontario government and union.  Three years ago random alcohol and drug testing for TTC drivers was suggested, but the politicians vetoed this request. 

Earlier this week a TTC bus driver hit a crane, leaving one woman dead and 18 people injured.  When police examined the scene of the accident, they found drugs in the driver’s bag.

When last have you heard that it’s allowed to bring drugs to work?  It would be bad enough for office or factory workers to pack a lunch, a drink and some marijuana on the side, but bus drivers!  It’s an accident waiting for a place to happen, and it did.

For more details, please visit: http://www.torontosun.com/2011/09/02/ttc-reviews-its-impaired-testing-policy

Homeless?

A few people contacted me, pointing out that it’s been quiet on the Under the Toronto Sun blog.  They’re right, my last entry dates back to July 22.  A dedicated blogger I am not.

In my defense, not much has been happening under the Toronto sun.  In fact, for the past two weeks I’ve been under the Belgian sun.

My father past away after an extended hospital stay.  He was 88 with a number of health problems.  Losing him was not altogether a bad thing.  He was alone after mom passed away three years ago, and resided in an old age home.  Compared to where he was, I’m sure he’s much happier where he is now.

Even with that knowledge, attending his funeral was quite an emotional affair.  As a veteran, dad’s funeral was attended by other veterans, complete with Belgian flags and playing the national anthem in church and at the cemetery.  So many of his friends were there, some of them in wheelchairs. 

 (Dad [far right) with his group of veterans)

My hometown didn’t feel like home anymore.  So much has changed, I hardly recognized the place.  Where the municipal pool used to be is now a college for the performing arts; where I used to go dancing on Saturday and Sunday night is now a hotel; and where my favorite boutique used to be is now a MacDonald's.  What a sight that was, that giant letter “M” on top of a glass and steel structure, among buildings that date back to the 1500s.

(Belfort Aalst)

While in Belgium I stayed at the Ibis hotel.  A charming place.  It might not have been a 5 star hotel, but it sure had 5 star service.  The staff, from the receptionist right down to the chambermaids, were very friendly and knowledgeable.   

(Ibis hotel Aalst)

All too soon August 15^th came around and time for me to pack up and go home.  Only, I couldn’t go home.  At the airport it was discovered that my passport had expired and I was refused access to the plane.  To get back to Toronto I had to organize a new passport.

When I went to the municipality of Aalst, where I was born and raised, they couldn’t find me.  After some digging it was discovered that, because I live abroad, my file was transferred to Ghent.  So off I went to Ghent to apply for a new passport.  To cut a long story short, 240 Euros later I had such a new document.

And so now I’m home again.  Home … strange to think of Canada as home.  I never thought about Canada as home.  Then again, I always thought of Belgium as home, but it isn’t anymore.  Maybe I’m homeless.

Ban alcohol ads

One of the perks of having a blog is that you can speak your mind. When struggling with a particular issue there might be nobody around to listen; in a conversation someone might cut you off; or when writing an article about the subject, your writing might get censored. With a blog on the other hand you can speak, vent and even ramble, and you can do so to your hearts’ content. Which is exactly what I am about to do.

If you think I’m a little put out today, you would be right. The cause? A book. I’m reading a book (a murder mystery) and the main character (the detective) drinks like a fish, on and off duty. This puts my nose out of joint.

These days it’s all about healthy living, switching to organic products and shunning the smokers has become a national pastime. But has anyone who reads books ever noticed the alcohol consumption of fictional characters?

They guzzle down champagne, wine and spirits any time, any place from morning ‘till night. I wonder how recovering alcoholics feel about that. How do people, who try to break their drinking habit, feel about fictional characters drinking like fishes? It must be hard enough walking passed bars, restaurants and liquor stores, without being confronted with alcohol in books.

The same with TV and magazine advertisements. Why are alcohol promoters being given free rein to make their products look attractive to consumers? With their ads they are giving the impression that drinking is cool, fun and sexy. I wonder how much fun it is to lose a family member or friend because some drunk who had to have one more drink?

What about domestic violence? How many more spouses need to be beaten up before anyone is going to do anything? How many black eyes, broken noses, split lips, broken ribs and blood is it gonna take for someone to demand the advertising of alcohol be stopped?

Smokers are being given a hard time for lighting up and are bombarded by messages that oeh smoking is bad for you. But what about drinking? Is nobody going to say something about that?