If given a choice between Life and Death, I choose Life!

If given a choice between Life and Death, I choose Life.
With these deaths in the family, my nights have not been peaceful. I try to think positive thoughts at night, but over the past several days, my thoughts have been with the families of the dearly departed. I keep sensing their heartbreak and I worry for my own family. I love my husband, children and grandchildren so much. I can't imagine the depth of the heartbreak that my relatives are experiencing.
What is particularly disheartening is the fact that both died so young due, at least in part, to diabetes. My husband has diabetes. My sisters have diabetes. My mother (who passed) had diabetes. And I have to be careful so I do not become a diabetic.
The night before last I had an episode. There are so many people at work sick with that bad flu. So Monday, after work, I decided to make old fashioned  chicken soup to help my family avoid illness. Since I had to work overtime, I didn't start cooking until 5 and dinner wasn't ready until 8. I never eat after 7 due to my acid reflux. Yet, my family and I had a late supper. I suffered for it later.
At 2 am, I woke up gasping and choking. I couldn't breathe. My acid reflux caused the soup to come back up on me and it caught in my throat. Half asleep, I tried to catch my breath, but it wouldn't come. It couldn't come. I sat straight up. I managed to squeak out my husband's name. He shot up and grabbed me by my shoulders and shook me, calling my name, "Dee...Dee.!  What's wrong. What's wrong." It was dark. He couldn't see my face. But as he shook me, my breathe came back. I could breathe again. My throat was raw from choking for a breath. I was still wheezing. My husband said, "What happened." I just wheezed, "I'm ok. I'm ok."
I got up and went to the bathroom. I coughed up the phlegm in my throat and drank a glass of water. I went back to bed.
My husband asked, "Are you ok?" He was still worried.
I laid back down. My heart was pounding in my chest. My ears were ringing. My throat was sore and raw. I was so tired. I tried to sleep. My husband kept rubbing my arm, checking on me.
My heart kept pounding out of my chest all night and I was still tired in the morning.
I stayed home from work yesterday and today. I couldn't eat yesterday until late afternoon and I've barely eaten today, though I do feel much better now.
All the while this has been going on, my thoughts are with my two sisters who drove out to California for the funeral of my niece next week. They are taking on so much more on than I have. They have their own families, yet they are in California giving their shoulders and reaching their arms around our family in California. The suffering of their family over the passing of a beautiful, 18 year old child, it's so much for them to bear. My thoughts and prayers are with them. I wish I could hug them all as they grieve and find peace.
I am grateful for my family. I love my husband, my sons, my grandsons, my daughter in law, my sisters, brothers and my extended family. I want so much to protect them all from harm.
If given a choice between Life and Death, I do choose Life. I do choose Peace. I do choose Love.

Happy Memorial Day: Latinos Proudly Contribute to Principles of Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness!

American Hispanics have a proud history of serving in the US Military. Over 500,000 Hispanic soldiers served in World War II, and nearly 50 Latinos have won our nation’s highest award, the Congressional Medal of Honor. More than 60,000 Hispanics were on active duty in 2003 and another two million are veterans of the U.S. military. Many have also been honored with American citizenship as a result of their military service; more than 30,000 immigrants who have served in the military have become U.S. citizens through a special wartime military naturalization statute.
In Iraq, Hispanics have a death risk about 20 percent higher than non-Hispanics.
Latinos make up 10 percent of the actively enlisted military forces. They are over-represented in the categories that get the most dangerous assignments -- infantry, gun crews and seamanship -- and make up over 20 percent of the front lines.
Millions of Hispanics have a Proud Tradition of Service in the U.S. Military, and thousands today are fighting on behalf of this nation, regardless of their citizenship status. Their bravery and sacrifice, along with that of their fellow soldiers, should be recognized and honored.

Death, Life and Heaven

My brother died late last week. He was only 62 years old. I loved my brother, but I know he had a very rough life. His life didn’t start out that way though. He was born the fourth son and the sixth child in our 10 children family home. We all started out the same. We were hard working migrant laborers. We had a father and mother that loved us. They focused on building within each of us a work ethic that would help us become successful in America. Every summer we worked in the fruit/vegetable fields harvesting crops. Every Fall through Spring we attended school to complete our education so we could achieve the American Dream.

We all faced challenges. We were minorities in a majority white Michigan. From the beginning, we were the one “Mexican” family on the block. Teasing, chasing, bullying were the norm vs the anomaly. My brother faced it worse than most. He had an added factor. He was also overweight. This brought additional teasing.

Nevertheless, he was a very smart person and always did his best. I think he had his heart broken a few times, though he never dwelt on any negative experiences.

After he graduated from school and found his first job, he met a girl and married her. They had a beautiful daughter. The marriage only lasted only a few years. They mutually decided to divorce.

He came into his own after his divorce. He started advancing at his job and he lost weight. He became very handsome and dapper. Everyone said he looked like Freddie Prinze. It was the late seventies. Chico and the Man was a popular TV show and my brother was getting a lot of attention. Being the seventies, he started to dabble in pot and other miscellaneous feel good drugs. I knew a few people who did the same, but my boyfriend (now husband) and I were not into that kind of stuff so we drifted away from my brother and his crowd. By that time, my husband and I were married and I started advancing in my own career. We moved away from our hometown. After that, I only saw my brother once in a while when we came home for visits.

My brother married again and had two more children, a boy and a girl. After a few years, his partying went a little out of control. His marriage broke up. His new ex-wife moved to another state. He paid child support but rarely saw his kids. A few years later he lost his job. He didn’t give up his partying. Soon, he was drifting from job to job, usually in construction or as a handyman. He lost his house and later moved in with my parents.

None of my brothers and sisters were happy about this at first. However as my parents grew older, it was helpful to have him there. He became a very good caretaker of our parents. After our Dad died in 93, he became our mother’s sole caretaker and companion. In the last few years of her life, we were grateful to him especially the last six months when she was totally disabled and suffered from dementia.

Our mother died in January 2008. He became very depressed. I think he felt lost without mom. He had previously stopped his partying ways and now with mom gone, he just stayed home and seemed to give up. His health started to falter. He had diabetes and always seemed tired. He was only 62 when he died last Friday of natural causes. I suspect the actual cause was a broken heart. His two youngest children came to the funeral. They had been estranged from their dad for years, but they were so heartbroken by his death. It was just gut wrenching to see their tears.

My oldest brother (69) is in very poor health. He has ALS and is losing most of his muscle control. He doesn’t have much longer to live. He is in Michigan and was not able to travel due to his health so he did not attend the funeral.

The rosary/wake and the funeral Mass were all emotions. Afterwards, the immediate family gathered together just to talk. Then everyone began going home. My sister and I drove our oldest sister (68) to the airport. In years past, we would just drop her at the terminal entrance, but this time, we parked. I carried her luggage and guided her to the counter then to airport security.

My sister fell last year and this impacted her ability to walk on her own. She now walks with a cane. She moves so slowly. I remembered when we were young and we would run and laugh together. Now, she was not only fragile, she was elderly. I wondered how much longer we would have her with us.

I think I needed the five hour drive back home just so I could think about what happened over the previous few days. I didn’t cry much. I’m afraid to cry for fear I will break down. The few times I almost cried was during the wake and when his children cried.

I thought about my brother and his short life. My parents and another brother were dead too. My oldest brother and sister may soon follow. I remember putting together easel boards with so many pictures of my brother with our family. I know my brother did not achieve his dreams.

When I came home, I hugged my youngest son. I held my husband’s hand for a long, time. It felt good to just hang on to them for a little while. I love my husband and children so much. My husband and I talked for a little while about the week but I didn’t go into too much detail, just that it was sad and I was worried about my oldest sister.

My husband is bowling tonight and I started to look at my email and my blog. I decided to let my blog wait one more day before I jump back into it. Instead, I decided to put my thoughts and feelings down on paper. Life is just so damn short. It isn’t fair. What happened to hopes and dreams and plans for the future? Death is always there. That is a guarantee. If not death, then there is always debilitating disease, especially when you get older. How unfair.

I am a little mad at myself. Maybe I could have been a better sister. Maybe I could have been a little more understanding. Maybe I could have visited more. It is too late for that now.
Then I think he lived his own life the way he wanted to live it. Maybe he is happier now. Maybe he did get what he wanted. He did believe in Heaven.