On 9/3 - 2:45 a.m. I wrote: I want my goal to be, to live my life in ways that would make my parents and my brother proud of me ... little ways that show my humanity but also ... my Divinity.
On 9/23 - 12:54 am I finally put down in words a happening in my Haswell Household:
My mom kept a little cheap plastic transistor radio on her bedstand. She probably got it as one of her famous "freebies" with every Fingerhut catalog order. She'd blast it away as she'd go to bed and long after she fell very soundly asleep and was snoring like a grizzly, it'd be blasting away, always with talk radio. You know the kind--the call-in shows where folks would ask the host (usually a loud-mouthed man) some question and there'd be some pseudo philosophical discussion over just about any topic--the price of eggs, getting ripped off with car repairs, a soap opera, the latest scoop on a celebrity, politics, etc. These talk shows would rattle on into the night and if I was there trying to sleep, it'd be impossible for me. I inherited my dad's gift of being an ultra light sleeper.
I'd sometimes go in and turn it off and before long, she'd wake up. Too quiet, I guess. She said it gave her "company" -- probably made her feel like she wasn't alone. I know she played her radio a lot when she lived alone after dad died and me and Jeff ... and Dana ... had moved away.
Mom took over my old bedroom when her and my dad weren't able to sleep in their "double" bed together any longer--snoring or waking up too often or tossing and turning too much. She kept my old bedroom until just before she died and the EMTs took her out of her bed kicking and screaming to the hospital.
I stopped sleeping with my husband a long time ago for many of the same reasons as mom and dad. It was ME that snored too loud and ME that slept too lightly and with two different work schedules, we were always grouchy and sleepless. I moved out of our bedroom and into my old childhood room at that time.
During a rare closet-cleaning session, I'd found a bunch of mom's things I'd crammed in there when we were cleaning out her belongings thinking we'd be selling this place to someone else after she died. I found mom's crappy little transistor radio in a basket and turned it on. It worked. No biggie--it was only a short while after she'd died, I guess, so it was feasible the battery would still be good.
But that was over 15 years ago now and I keep the radio in the kitchen cupboard--her cupboard where the dinner plates were stored, same as ours now. I take it out now and then and I'm always wondering just when it'll be that the battery dies. So far, with my husband as my witness, my mom's transistor radio ALWAYS works. I like to turn on AM radio and put it on the Canadian channel where everyone speaks French. I don't understand it but it sounds pretty.
I did look to see that it was a Duracell--that old Energizer Bunny keeps going and going and going.
So ... the battery has to be at least 16-17 yrs old and it keeps working! One thing you can be sure of, often it serves to make me not miss her so much, not feel so lonely, and sorta like I'm in an Alfred Hitchcock movie. I can say I rarely turn the dial to talk radio. I figured it had enough of that.
Those soundwaves keep flowing ... from her heart to mine, just like the little night lights in many of the electrical plugs around the house keep glowing that she left there, needing no switch to turn them on.
Today when I decided I was going to post this writing on my blog, I got the radio out of the cupboard, turned it on softly, not wanting to wake my husband up, and at first thought it was not coming on. Then I heard... "all the things you do ... you're unbelievable ... you're unbelievable!"
All you special bloggie souls who took the time to wade through this, bless you richly and may you enjoy a beautiful autumn weekend. I'm going to! Believe it!
Love from your SisSTAR Kylita xoxoxo