Category: Family

Rascal 8/18/2003-12/16/2020

Well today is a very sad day for Mike and me. We had to let go our dear beloved cairn terrier, Rascal. Rascal came into our lives in May of 2006 from the Cairn Rescue League. We already a beautiful cairn named Daisy, and she needed a friend! Rascal had two previous owners before us, and after we had him for a while, we saw why they had named him Rascal. Firstly, he was a dirty dog, would pee on himself, in the crate, and no matter what we tried, accidents were his constant companion right up to the end. We loved him anyway.

There was also the problem of taking him to the vet. No matter how much medication the vet gave us to calm him down, he would rise from his stupor and try take off the vet’s hand. The vets he saw never really believed us when we told them he was quite sweet at home. When he was at home, if you moved him while he was sleeping, he would definitely bite your hand. He once took a nice chuck out of the sole of my foot when he was on the bed sleeping and I got my foot too close to his head! We loved him anyway.

When my mother was alive, she used to joke and tell him to, “go play in traffic!”, but she loved him anyway.

He would go absolutely insane if he heard the sound of a blender, shaking his head and growling. I remember Daisy looking at him many times as if to say, “you are a crazy dog!” She loved him anyway.

In time, he became unbelievably attached to Mike, he would follow him anywhere, and if Mike left the house, would sit by the door waiting for his return. If he happened to be playing or sitting with me, I was quickly left for Mike’s company. Mike would say, “Hi kid!” I was a little jealous…I must admit, but I loved him anyway.

In his later years, he had become deaf, suffered from a collapsed trachea, which gave him a terrible cough that kept us up nights, had terrible breath because he needed a dental, and turned up his indoor peeing skills. The last several weeks, he started bleeding profusely from the mouth on several occasions and suffered a seizure last night. Today, we knew it was time to say goodbye to our lovable man.

Our hearts are deeply broken, and now we just love him.

Daisy 11/24/2001-8/5/2018

Today, we had to let poor Daisy go. It is such a sad day when you lose a faithful friend and part of your family. Daisy was around when both my parents were alive, so it is even more meaningful to me that she is now gone too. It was actually my mother who first found her for sale, and met her, before I got to meet her. She was a puppy mill dog that ended up in the hands of a single mother and child that realized they could not take on a puppy. They had named her Stella Rose, but I didn’t feel I could yell out in the backyard, “Stella, Stella!”, so we renamed her Daisy, which suit her just fine! Daisy was a sweet dog, and always hungry! She was really smart and I swear could tell time, especially at meal time! Given her advanced age, I was worried that she wasn’t going to make the trip to Florida, but she adapted like a trooper. She was nearly blind by the time we moved, so she just had to learn the lay of the new house a bit, before she took to her new home like trooper! She gave Mike and I, so much love, and has taken a piece of our heart away with her.

Suicide? Get Help and Remove Those Blinders!

I need to speak a little about suicide. With the recent deaths of Anthony Bourdain and Kate Spade, and recent rumblings from friends on Facebook who seem to be considering a similar fate, I feel compelled to speak.

Douglas Fisher, Scott Fisher, Wayne Fisher

Firstly, let me give you a little about my brush with the issue. In 1980, my 26 year old brother, Wayne, committed suicide by poison. He had suffered with new seizures that had begun from a previous brain injury and told my parents, “that he was afraid his brain was going to deteriorate and didn’t want to be a burden.” To say that my parents, my other brother and I, were devastated, would be an understatement. My parents were nothing but supportive of all of us, but the guilt that my brother’s death caused them was terrible. My parents always put us first, yet they felt so guilty that they must have done something wrong. It was horrible to watch. I was 16 and it was my first real brush with tragedy. Wayne and I were very close, and we shared many interests and he was always so encouraging and supportive of me. I learned at an early age that people could leave your life forever and that you must cherish each moment with them. My older brother, Doug, felt really badly, as he was only 2 years older than Wayne, and they had really grown up together. Doug and I talked about how horrible and sad Wayne’s death had been to our family, and that we could never do such a thing to the people we would leave behind.
The saddest part was how great my brother was, and how he really made a difference in the world, and now that opportunity for him to shine and grow was forever taken away by suicide. I was angry for many years. ” How could he do this to my mom and dad? To me? ” My parents would have spent all of their savings, anything, to help him. “How could he do this to us?” Well, it took a few more years to wrap my head around this, not until I was studying psychology in college and learned about depression. Wayne was in pain, he wasn’t thinking about us, he wanted to end his pain and could not see the positives of the future, because he was in the tunnel vision world of depression. Depression is real, with real side effects. No different from a physical illness, such as pneumonia. The sad part for many suffering from it, is that it robs you from seeing the big picture of life..and that is the danger. I have learned that all of life is a roller coaster…it is peaks and valleys and you have to ride through the valley before it will peak again. The sad part of depression is that you only see the valley and and don’t see any peaks on the horizon. This is the horrible symptom of the illness itself. At least when, you have pneumonia, you can identify you may have a fever or cough.
Sadly in 2010, my older brother, Doug, would also suffer at the fate of suicidal depression at 58. Leaving me, my mother, his two sons, and grandchildren, a devastating hole in our family again.
Suicidal depression and its symptoms are not as obvious as pneumonia is to its victims. The depression creates these devastating blinders that block out hope and the acknowledgement that things can get better. When you make a decision to end your life under this cloud, you are missing out on the whole picture of your life and there is no turning back. This is why it is so important to get help. Call your therapist, the Suicide Prevention Hotline (1-800-273-8255), or you can even call or go to an emergency room. Thousands of people do get their blinders removed with therapies and medications. It can be you. Choose to get help. So many people are feeling what you feel, but get the help they need and enjoy the rest of their lives. You can too!

Rita Cordeiro October 8, 1935 – April 11, 2015

 

It is with a heavy heart that I must announce that my dear mother-in law, my other mother, Rita Ouellette Cordeiro, passed away peacefully today. Words cannot express how deeply loved this woman was. She had touched so many lives and has spread her love so greatly for everyone. She raised 4 amazing children with her equally wonderful husband, Manny, and blessed the lives of her dear sister, as well as countless other friends and family. May the absolute, unconditional love, that she so graciously shared so freely, continue to shine on in all of us… for generations to come!

Happy 51 Years to Me?

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Today is my 51st birthday. Time to celebrate! 51! I really can’t believe it. I was the baby of the family, but I guess every baby grows up… if given the chance. I have had an amazing 51 years full of so many tragic and joyful events. The highs have been astronomical, and the lows, below the below. As I contemplate over the years on this day, I realize something about birthdays as we get older, they may not be as joyous as everyone thinks. I know, you are thinking it is tough to get old, and it really is an accomplishment that we actually survive another year. I am not  feeling sorry for myself that I am old, but something completely different. I realize today how many people who used to be around to celebrate my fantastic birth, are no longer having birthdays of their own. That is what is not so much fun. Yes, I am still here, and thankful for that, but I can’t help missing the two people who brought me into this world, my mother and father. In fact, when I really think about it, my birthday was probably much more important to them than I can ever imagine it will be to me. Today, 51 years ago, my parents welcomed a new member to the family. How intense that day must have been for them. A day that I actually have no recollection of, but I am supposed to remember to have a good time on its annual anniversary! All this time, I had birthdays wrong. It really isn’t about me getting another year older and how wonderful that is, it is about remembering an event where I changed a family, by expanding it. Now that both my parents, my only two brothers, as well as  grandparents, and many aunts and uncles are gone,  who I remember used to be a part of this “celebration,” birthdays just aren’t the same. Everyone who remembers my birth is not here. Woohoo …let’s eat cake! Somehow, I really am not that hungry.

Two Years

Mom and Me, March 2011
Two years? Can it be? Two years since my life changed forever and my mother died in my arms? It is so hard for me to comprehend. I still cry many mornings, but not every day now. I still ache deep inside for my loss of my dear, sweet, friend. I find Christmas especially hard, since she loved it so. Most Christmas songs can send me straight into a crying jag. I feel no Christmas spirit anymore and really can’t wait for the whole season to be over. Time has given me some perspective though, I can see how much pain my Mom was in over the last year of her life. I am glad that she is not around to endure any more pain. Life in pain, is not the way to live. I recently looked at a video taken about 2 weeks before she died and I can see that her end was closer than I could face at the time. I just couldn’t think of losing her then.
I miss her wit, her wisdom, and her smile. Each day, she lives on in me, but I am a poor imitation. I miss my friend.
Everyone has a different relationship with their mother. I certainly did. We were so much alike and we were always there for each other. We had lost so much together… My father to Alzheimer’s Disease, a sister-in-law to cancer, and my two brothers to suicide. With losses like that, it bonds the remaining family even tighter together, even if they were close to begin with. I find it difficult sometimes when I realize that I am the, “last one standing,” in my immediate family. I am moving forward… little by little, but today I step back more than a few steps. I miss my friend.

Contentment, peace and happiness have been mine and God has been so good to me with joy and laughter in greater measure than tears.

I can’t believe my mother wrote this. She basically set me up to think of her all the time! She wrote this years before she died, but you really can feel her life presence throughout.  My mother-in l–aw read it at Mom’s wake. I am so lucky to have so many wonderful writings that my mom left me….even if so many make me cry!

Most Dearly Beloved

Mourn me not when I have left this earthly place—for I have enjoyed each precious hour and day and season—the first sign of spring, summers’ warmth, birdsong, nighttime sounds, mourning awakenings, autumns’ glow, and winter sunsets, first snowfalls.

My riches were boundless. Beloved parents who gave me all that made me worthwhile—an undeserved, but patient, kind and noble man to be my spouse—a sweet and gentle brother to love, respect and cherish through all the years—three precious, honorable, stalwart, thoughtful and loving sons—each unique and marvelous—each God’s special gift to me from the day they were born. My fringe benefits along with all else—the loyal, loving, understanding, friends of youth and later years.

I ask only happy memories that all of us have shared—and that a prayer be said for me in springtime—near flowing brooks and frothy streams—at sunsets, at moonrise—when lilacs bloom after summer rainfall—now and then at eventide when daily tasks are done—on Christmas Eve perhaps—on Easter moon—whenever soft winds rustle the leaves-when stars come out and always when church bells ring—when trees grow tall and nearly touch the clouds.

Contentment, peace and happiness have been mine and God has been so good to me with joy and laughter in greater measure than tears.

Love each of you ad infinitum.

Betty Ann Fisher

Two Poems my Mom wrote about her Mom, yet they are true about how I feel as well.

Whenever I’m happy I’ll wish that she could share, and when I’m sad I’ll long for the comfort that only she could give. For my triumphs—if only she might prideful be and my faults could help correct. When someone else says, “Mother” I’ll remember mine.

My Truly Special Mom

by Betty Ann Fisher

And when she smiled—
‘Twas as if the world was new,
And when she laughed
Our troubles all seemed few.

She cried but seldom
And ah, she hid the tears
Or wiped them quickly
That none would know her fears.

If steep her path,
She wore no outward sorrow
But kept the ache within herself
Not bitter on the morrow.

She’d never stoop to deed unkind
Nor would she hurt another
Nor hold a grudge within her heart
My sweet and gentle Mother.

IN MEMORY OF MOM

by Betty Ann Fisher

A fitting tribute to her memory—a statue struck in bronze? An impressive gravestone in the churchyard? Which of these shall I choose?

I think that I shall always remember her in the first bright flush of dawn, whenever I see a clump of Lilies of the Valley in a quiet glade, when the first Crocus peeks above the ground, in the scent of early Lilacs, when the first Robin makes his appearance, when the earth smells sweet after a summer shower, when the trees swish in a gentle breeze, when I hear a Bob White call.

When the smell of autumn is in the air, when the first frost sets the leaves aflame, when snowflakes fall from Heaven, and when the sunset comes. I’ll remember her when I hear the laughter of children at play or see nuns at prayer. When I hear a lullabye, when a music box tinkles a merry tune. Whenever I smell Violets, I’ll feel that she is near. And when the thaw sets free the mountain brooks and streams, I’ll think of her.

When church bells ring at Easter-tide, when Christmas carols are sung, when I see a cozy kitchen or a warm and glowing hearth, when a kettle sings on a stove, when the crickets chirp and when the stars come out.

Whenever I’m happy I’ll wish that she could share, and when I’m sad I’ll long for the comfort that only she could give. For my triumphs—if only she might prideful be and my faults could help correct. When someone else says, “Mother” I’ll remember mine.