Blogroll Me!
A couple of weeks ago, I received an e-mail from www.aish.com -- it was a short film about the three most important words in a relationship. Those words are not I LOVE YOU -- what you might most expect them to be.
Follow this link and see for yourself what those words are.
I sent the link to my husband that day after glancing quickly at the movie, just 'cause I thought the movie was cute.
Here is what he wrote back:
for all my past mistakes I would like to say to you -- I WAS WRONG
for all my future mistakes I would like to say to you -- I WILL BE WRONG
I LOVE YOU!
Sunday, August 07, 2005
"If I Had a Million Dollars...I'd Be Rich" [or not]
Blogroll Me!
I came home this evening to a telephone message from a friend saying that a mutual friend's father passed away this afternoon. The mutual friend is from Toronto but has lived in the U.S. for a number of years with her husband and children. Her mother passed away many years ago, and only her ailing father and two siblings who have no connection to her or her father remained.
My friend was in Toronto for the past week because she'd been told that her dad wasn't doing too well. Thank G-d there'd been quite an improvement in his health and he was to be transfered next week from a hospital to a nursing home for convalescing. My friend was planning to return to the States with her family because of family and work obligations.
Now her father is niftar, but I think they will sit shiva in the States because of the family situation.
Yes, she is a good daughter who kept traveling here to check on her father, who was in and out of hospitals for the past few years. Yes, it took somewhat of a mental, emotional and physical toll on her each time she came and left. And yes, there will be a noticeable absence in her life hereonafter.
I do know that this friend has now inherited millions of dollars, and that all along her father has been providing her with funds for day school, funds for buying a large home, funds for traveling, etc.
But who really cares how many millions this friend is now worth. Why? Because 1) she has lost a parent, and 2) this friend has M.S., and has had it for over 6 years.
Perhaps the money will fund medications for her, will have her be able to be on the receiving end of every new M.S. drug trial out there. But this M.S. has slowly been robbing her of her fine quality of life--her strength, her concentration, her physical mobility, her comfort levels, her family life.
At the end, what is she left with? A few million... But when you're an "avel" or a sick person, the money certainly doesn't make you rich. You're truly a millionaire when you have your family by your side and good health in your back pocket. All the rest can wait...
I came home this evening to a telephone message from a friend saying that a mutual friend's father passed away this afternoon. The mutual friend is from Toronto but has lived in the U.S. for a number of years with her husband and children. Her mother passed away many years ago, and only her ailing father and two siblings who have no connection to her or her father remained.
My friend was in Toronto for the past week because she'd been told that her dad wasn't doing too well. Thank G-d there'd been quite an improvement in his health and he was to be transfered next week from a hospital to a nursing home for convalescing. My friend was planning to return to the States with her family because of family and work obligations.
Now her father is niftar, but I think they will sit shiva in the States because of the family situation.
Yes, she is a good daughter who kept traveling here to check on her father, who was in and out of hospitals for the past few years. Yes, it took somewhat of a mental, emotional and physical toll on her each time she came and left. And yes, there will be a noticeable absence in her life hereonafter.
I do know that this friend has now inherited millions of dollars, and that all along her father has been providing her with funds for day school, funds for buying a large home, funds for traveling, etc.
But who really cares how many millions this friend is now worth. Why? Because 1) she has lost a parent, and 2) this friend has M.S., and has had it for over 6 years.
Perhaps the money will fund medications for her, will have her be able to be on the receiving end of every new M.S. drug trial out there. But this M.S. has slowly been robbing her of her fine quality of life--her strength, her concentration, her physical mobility, her comfort levels, her family life.
At the end, what is she left with? A few million... But when you're an "avel" or a sick person, the money certainly doesn't make you rich. You're truly a millionaire when you have your family by your side and good health in your back pocket. All the rest can wait...
"What a Pain in the...Head!"
Blogroll Me!
I know many egocentric people. I encounter them every day -- at work, in my private life, in my blogging world. Those are the people who like the spotlight turned "just so" to shine on them and whatever it is they are doing to think they deserve recognition.
Perhaps blogging itself is an egocentrism of sorts...maybe not so much when you write about political stances and current events and information that is already out there, but more when you write about yourself, your thoughts, your past, your present and your future. But in my mind that is called a personal blog. It reflects who and what you are. Like a raconteur, or a comedian, it's all "in the delivery."
I try not to be egocentric in any areas of my life; I've always dislike braggarts and extremely self-assured people, perhaps because I never was one. But there is one area where I am...and probably will always be... egocentric. And that is when I don't feel well, as happened today.
Although they developed later in life, I suffer quite frequently from sinus headaches/cluster headaches. This morning, I woke up with one of those headaches. It went from an awareness of a sinus headache, to a full-blown HEADACHE that bordered on migraine and nausea and sensitivity to smell and sound...and it lasted for HOURS.
Usually I go to shul with my youngest child midmorning. I did not go to shul, I barely got up out of bed, I ate no breakfast and leerily ate lunch. My day for the most part passed by while I was in bed, the shades pulled low to create darkness.
I got up around 10 a.m., deciding that maybe sitting outside on the kitchen deck, the warm breeze on my face, might do the trick. I'd already taken nasal spray and 2 extra-strength Tylenol. Sometimes the Tylenol kick in quickly, but not today. Yes, the setting out-of-doors was pleasant, but somehow I felt sicker, and went back to bed....and slept.
My daughter came in a couple of times to stroke my arm and say she hoped I felt better and to lie beside me and keep me company. She announced at 1:00 p.m. that it really was lunchtime, so I got up to prepare the table. Of course, after lunch, I went back to bed, to sleep, still wondering at my severe headache, but knowing I could not yet take another pill.
The day was sunny outside and beckoning me, but I could not get up out of that bed. I felt sorry for my children and husband that today they only had each other's company, and not Eema's. As I was sleeping, dreaming, waking, sleeping, dreaming, waking, they were being children without me.
Again, throughout the afternoon, my daughter came to check on my and lie with me and try to regale me with stories in order to comfort me. I told her I was sorry that I did not feel well, and as I kept apologizing to her, I thought: "G-d forbid, if I was a mother that truly had some long-term disabilitating, serious disease, how my children would suffer because I'd always have to excuse my inability to interact with them."
Thankfully by the time my husband left for shul in the evening, I felt that the meds had finally taken effect and that I was able to be there, with my children, downstairs, to give them shalosh seudos and be company for them till Shabbos would be over and my husband would return home.
I was rather sad that such a glorious day passed me by without me partaking of it. Yes, Shabbos is a day of rest, but today is certainly not what I had in mind for myself when I knew Shabbos was coming this week. And I'm sorry that my egocentrism reared its ugly head...but thankfully, my family understood and respected it. I hope that tomorrow when the sun shines, I'll be right there with my family, "shining" back at it.
I know many egocentric people. I encounter them every day -- at work, in my private life, in my blogging world. Those are the people who like the spotlight turned "just so" to shine on them and whatever it is they are doing to think they deserve recognition.
Perhaps blogging itself is an egocentrism of sorts...maybe not so much when you write about political stances and current events and information that is already out there, but more when you write about yourself, your thoughts, your past, your present and your future. But in my mind that is called a personal blog. It reflects who and what you are. Like a raconteur, or a comedian, it's all "in the delivery."
I try not to be egocentric in any areas of my life; I've always dislike braggarts and extremely self-assured people, perhaps because I never was one. But there is one area where I am...and probably will always be... egocentric. And that is when I don't feel well, as happened today.
Although they developed later in life, I suffer quite frequently from sinus headaches/cluster headaches. This morning, I woke up with one of those headaches. It went from an awareness of a sinus headache, to a full-blown HEADACHE that bordered on migraine and nausea and sensitivity to smell and sound...and it lasted for HOURS.
Usually I go to shul with my youngest child midmorning. I did not go to shul, I barely got up out of bed, I ate no breakfast and leerily ate lunch. My day for the most part passed by while I was in bed, the shades pulled low to create darkness.
I got up around 10 a.m., deciding that maybe sitting outside on the kitchen deck, the warm breeze on my face, might do the trick. I'd already taken nasal spray and 2 extra-strength Tylenol. Sometimes the Tylenol kick in quickly, but not today. Yes, the setting out-of-doors was pleasant, but somehow I felt sicker, and went back to bed....and slept.
My daughter came in a couple of times to stroke my arm and say she hoped I felt better and to lie beside me and keep me company. She announced at 1:00 p.m. that it really was lunchtime, so I got up to prepare the table. Of course, after lunch, I went back to bed, to sleep, still wondering at my severe headache, but knowing I could not yet take another pill.
The day was sunny outside and beckoning me, but I could not get up out of that bed. I felt sorry for my children and husband that today they only had each other's company, and not Eema's. As I was sleeping, dreaming, waking, sleeping, dreaming, waking, they were being children without me.
Again, throughout the afternoon, my daughter came to check on my and lie with me and try to regale me with stories in order to comfort me. I told her I was sorry that I did not feel well, and as I kept apologizing to her, I thought: "G-d forbid, if I was a mother that truly had some long-term disabilitating, serious disease, how my children would suffer because I'd always have to excuse my inability to interact with them."
Thankfully by the time my husband left for shul in the evening, I felt that the meds had finally taken effect and that I was able to be there, with my children, downstairs, to give them shalosh seudos and be company for them till Shabbos would be over and my husband would return home.
I was rather sad that such a glorious day passed me by without me partaking of it. Yes, Shabbos is a day of rest, but today is certainly not what I had in mind for myself when I knew Shabbos was coming this week. And I'm sorry that my egocentrism reared its ugly head...but thankfully, my family understood and respected it. I hope that tomorrow when the sun shines, I'll be right there with my family, "shining" back at it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)