History is the Essence of Innumerable Biographies

Thomas Carlyle

As I mentioned in yesterday’s post, my mother, Lee Ann, passed away about a week ago. I’d written about her before, but came across a weekly writing challenge called “Traces” in which we are challenged to write about leaving our mark on the world, and she’s the first person I thought of when regarding this challenge.

When reflecting upon my mother, of course there are fond memories, there are not so fond ones, too. My mother was not a saint… far from it in fact, but I loved her even more for all her misgivings. She was raised in California, dirt poor, in the 1950’s and 60’s. She had two older half brothers and one younger sister. She didn’t like to tell me stories about the things she did when she was young very often, but I know she was picked on, hated her own image, and made some rather poor choices in husbands early on.

When I tell other people about my mother, I don’t sugar coat a thing. She was honest, and so too am I. Her honesty could hurt sometimes, and maybe she wasn’t always transparent with everyone, but she was with me. When my sisters and I reminisce of her, we don’t talk about that trip we took or that time she was so nice… we tell stories about how people stared in horror as she yelled at us in a Mc Donald’s play place to get down or she’d “rip our arms off and beat us over the head with it”.

So why am I writing about my mother in a challenge about leaving my mark on the world? Well, I’m pretty certain that I’m (one of) her marks on the world. Sure, she made some awesome stuff that will still be around, now that she’s gone. She met lots of people, even took some of them in and cared for them when they were down. Those people will remember her and what she did, too. But I (and my siblings) are the result of her molding. Her mindset; brought to life. I am the product of her lifestyle, choices, personality… her everything. I am her mark on the world, and so too my children will be, after I’ve had more time to mess with their little minds and mold them into my little clones.

I am not my mother’s twin, but I carry a lot of her with me. We had the same hair, the same laugh, and the same pace and tone when speaking. People mistake me for her on the phone. Her views and mine were like night and day on some topics, and on ones we agreed on, we’d still debate the same side. She wasn’t the most understanding of what I thought, and nor I of her. She and I weren’t physically affectionate either. Honestly, I should have hugged her more. My mother loved the crap out of me though. I know she was proud of me, she said so often.

Now that she’s gone, her legacy is what she made. She made tons of objects, like dog agility equipment, painted rocks, polished rocks, paintings, blankets, and shadow boxes. However, it was the life she made herself, and those who gravitated towards it, that are her true legacy. I am who and what I am because of her, and I know she altered other lives outside our family, too. She was naturally nurturing, and people always just found her. Her legacy is her story, and now that she isn’t here to tell it, I suppose I should someday.

I hope someday I have impressed upon my children the importance of legacy; of family, and how they are my mark on the world. I’ve learned from my mother’s shortcomings and try not to have the same ones, but I’m sure the ones I do have will be remembered by my children. Someday, when they talk about legacy, I hope they think of me, I hope they know that THEY are MY mark on this world… and pass that on to their children. My story, my legacy, my mark on the world, is family.

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Everything Happens to Everybody Sooner or Later if There is Time Enough

-George Bernard Shaw

More than a year has gone by since I opened my mouth last… perhaps that’s a good thing. Rather than apologize, I saw a quote while looking up ideas on how to write about the passage of time and came across this little bit of pleasure…

Sometimes I need what only you can provide: your absence

It made me think that apologizing to the internet for not having time for it is rather silly, since odds are, no one noticed I wasn’t writing. As depressing as that thought might seem, it doesn’t bother me. I don’t write here for any other person’s pleasure, just my own. It’s a nice little journal of sorts that I am willing to share, and if someone is willing to read, all the better.

So I’ll try to recap the last year as briefly as possible… mostly so I can remember to write about these events later.

  • We spent Christmas last year in Bremerton with family, for the first time in 10 years.
  • In January I promised myself to be healthier… and I promise I tried… for about a week.
  • In February I got a job at Burger King… In April I quit. Don’t work there. Just don’t.
  • April brought Lillie’s 6th birthday.
  • In late April I started working for The Home Depot. Do work there. I still do.
  • In June Hayden turned 10. Double digits earned him a trip to a water park. Turns out I don’t care for water slides… or find I feel too fat for them. See January.
  • Also in June I joined a gym. That lasted a month due to cost… but I lost weight.
  • In July my mom found out she had cancer. I spent a week or so in the hospital with her.
  • In August I decided the weight had to go. Between August and November I lost like 30 lbs.
  • In September both kids were in full time school. I wish they’d quit getting older, cause that means I am too.
  • In October I turned 29, Mom turned 59, Dustin turned 38, Molly turned 19, and I had my 11th wedding anniversary. I also worked too much, and didn’t celebrate much, but I did get an awesome 3DSXL and Animal Crossing for a present!
  • For my anniversary, though, I went to a Navy League Ball. It was fancy… and boring. But I got to wear an expensive dress.
  • For Halloween, Hayden was a Creeper, and Lillie was the Pink Power Ranger. Also, Bill visited.
  • November 6th was Garen’s birthday. He’s still old. (33)
  • On November 11th I arrived at Harrison Hospital at 3:30 in the morning, for my mother.
  • On November 13th I got to talk to her for the last time.
  • On November 16th, she passed away. (Also Garen’s late mother Charlet’s birthday)
  • On November 22nd, my sister in law Gina was being a sneak and got eloped. (CONGRATS!)
  • Tonight I redid the blog, merged in older posts, and got ready to try writing again.

I make no promises to commit to writing, because I never seem to follow through. But I’ve got the bug, because my hubby got the bug… and well, anything he can do I can do better! (Not really, he’s got a knack for words).

I’ll try to expand upon these things in the next few days… but there’s the short version.

Goodnight!

-Andrea

It’s The End Of The World (of Warcraft) As We Know It…

This is a shared topic for the week Initated by Larisa and based on a 20 question interview posted by Matticus. He asks:

Let’s hypothetically assume Blizzard goes out of business and decides to shut down their servers and WoW for good. You have 5 hours before the server shutdown is permanent. What would you do in 5 hours?

So WoW is coming to an end. I’ve read a few posts about this now and I am noticing a lot of people have the same idea, “lets throw together one last raid and call it good”. While this sounds like fun, I know myself better then that. So I shall compare my last five hours of WoW to the Five Stages of Death. Each stage should take about an hour.

1. Denial — This would truely be my first reaction. I would go nuts in guild chat and in trade, talking about how this really can’t be happening to me. I’ve invested so much time into this game that it couldn’t possibly just be taken away. Its not April but this had better be a joke! So the first hour would prolly consist of me /dancing in Shatt, talking endlessly to friends and strangers alike. I would also likely log every toon and add up the amount of my life I’d wasted sitting here. (I know its well over a year!) Which would trasistion me to stage two.

2. Anger — Ah anger. Something I’ve never really had the capacity to hold for very long. I think this would be an exception. Upon realizing the amount of my time I’d invested into this game, I’d be livid. This would spurn me to do something spiteful. Things that would normally get me banned. I’d go throw a naked party on GM Island, break into Hyjal (again :P) and maybe exploit a few bosses…. simply because it wouldn’t matter anymore.  Once I’ve exerted all that anger I’d prolly be tired, and willing to make a deal… so stage three…

3. Bargaining — I’d write a few emails and/or tickets to Blizzard… offering up all my gold and epics for an extra day or two to feed my addiction. I mean, Im special right? I’ve been playing since release and they have many of my dollars to show for it. Why not just leave up one server for me and my friends. We wont tell anyone, honest. But of course they’d tell me no, so that leads to stage four…

4. Depression — I think I’d even cry a little. I’d start swapping emails and setting up a DOTA schedule until my friends and I could come up with a new game that we could all agree on. While this is going on my character is prolly still naked despite the WoW God’s denial and she’s sitting there spamming the world with “THE END IS NEAR”. Now we’re coming down on our last hour…

5. Acceptance — The final stage. WoW shuts down in one hour and I’ve just wasted four of them. I’d likely start a conga line in shatt and lead it around for a bit, throw in some PvP just to kill off a couple of folk, then strip down all my toons, sell everything I’ve got just to see what Im worth. When all thats said and done for the last five minutes I’d run my naked self into Org, ready to take on Thrall by myself. As the countdown started I’d enter his chamber, and as I was about to take the first (and likely only) swing, the screen would go dark. Never again to see the light of WoW.