Prayers, Blessings & Wishes for Saint

These stories make me smile at a life well lived.... xoxoxo

You've not offended me that's for sure.

Gentle hugs

HAHAHHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAH

This is definitely the best installment yet.  

I am one of six - the youngest - and we grew up in a small house.  No privacy for boy or girlfriends while we were growing up either, so I can totally see this happening - can picture it clearly!!!  Maura, you have a gift for storytelling my dear, and I'm so glad you're using it to our benefit - thank you thank you

Beautiful Faith!..........I love the colors.....

Maura I grew up the youngest fo 13.....My mother was Irish Catholic......And I totally can relate to the flatulence story!......I LOL'd very much with that story!......LOL...Thank you so much for sharing.......It brings our Saint back to life if only on the page.......

Faith,   Your video was beautiful. You are a woman of many talents. 

Faith it is beautiful, thank you for sharing it with us

Gentle hugs Saint Family.

(((((Maura)))) and ((((Molly)))...I look forward to reading your stories Maura.......Molly I have been thinking of you too, little Cindarella..........I think of you both often and wish you and Greg and Luke much peace...........

Chills while reading that ... you just know she was doing that painting for you Faith    I was cleaning the area around my computer the other night and throwing things out.  I have a habit of making notes to myself that mean something at the time, but when I look 3 weeks later, I have no idea what it means!  (for those who know me well, yes ... some of those notes are written on Friday nights after - ahem - a few).  So I come across this piece of paper that says "11/29 Saint on phone 7:14 - 7:44"   It was during one of those times when she wasn't feeling real good, but we hadn't talked in a while.  Said she hadn't talked on the phone that long for quite some time, which of course made me feel extra special ... which she always had a way of making you feel.  I remember going into chat later that night and being able to give updates to people and feeling like I had an "in" to what was going on 'cause I had actually talked with her.  I so want to talk to her just one more time, ya know?  Faith, I can't begin to fathom how you're dealing with that gaping hole in your routine.  Hugs to all.

Coonie  my dear friend,

My thaughts echo yours.

Hugs to all.

Shiny

A Dream for Molly

The other night I had the first dream about Pat that I can recall since her death.

I was sitting in the den of her family room in Beloit and she and Greg and I were just chatting, when she suddenly got up and put a package in my hand that she said she had wanted to show me...something special for Molly. It was a paper bag and when I pulled out its contents, it held a white satin clutch purse that was encrusted with sequins and pearls. I opened it. It was lined with pink satin and inside were all kinds of "girly" things: a pearly pink nail polish and pearly pink lipstick (each with a pearly white lid, encrusted with gems) a pair of white satin gloves, a beautifully ornamented gold hand mirror - I know this all sounds like a lot for a small clutch, but that was the marvel of it. Once it was opened, it was bottomless - and the number of delicate and lovely things seemed to go on and on. I was in tears, exclaiming about the beauty of it all and wanted to dig in to find out what else was in it when Pat said; "I've prepared it all for her and I want her to have it when I'm gone."

Suddenly we heard the door opening. Molly was home -  and Pat put a finger to her lips and said "Sshhh, not a word to her about it!" - and then she snatched it out of my hands and put it back into its hiding place.

I woke up in tears - a funny mix of sadness and joy about all of the riches that Pat has indeed left to you, Molly - a bottomless bag that will supply you with beauty and wonder for the rest of your life.

Where Have All the Flowers Gone...?

Part 1

When I was a senior in High School, I got to play my first solo concerto with orchestra at the Spring Concert that year. We had a very large school auditorium with a 750 seat capacity and the annual concert was always packed to the rafters, so I was more than a bit nervous about my first big solo performance. At that point in time, Pat had been spending her first year out of school working full-time at the local florist's shop where she had always apprenticed during school. Since she was living a 9-5 life (including weekends) and I spent most of my time in a practice room, we hardly ever saw each other, in spite of the tiny twin-bedded room we had shared since we were 12 and 13. Our closeness in age, as well as our very different chosen paths had, by this time, resulted in a pretty distant relationship in some ways. There was no anger between us, but we just tended to go our separate ways.

On the night of the solo concerto, I was really focussing on all the things my teachers had always told me - Make a confident entrance, tune up with the orchestra and then look straight to the rear wall of the house while you play - DO NOT make eye contact with anyone in the audience - Just contain yourself in the piece and PLAY! I never thought I would be able to get through without a memory slip, but it didn't happen. Everything went well and when the piece was over, I remember an ocean of sound in my ears being the combination of the applause of the audience and my blood pressure returning to normal. I had really "zoned out" for the duration of the piece, but now I was back and the most thrilled I had ever been in my life up to that point. To make the moment even sweeter, the Music Dept. Director came onto the stage with a beautiful bouquet of yellow roses for me (the school colors were black and gold). I accepted them and was in the process of kissing the conductor on the cheek, when the concertmaster tapped me from behind with her bow and hissed "It's your sister...!" I looked down below the stage and there was Pat, with tears streaming down her face and her enormous, infectious smile, reaching up to me with an even more beautiful bouquet of red roses that she had created for me especially for the event. I bent down and did my best to hug her without falling off the stage. I hadn't seen ANYBODY in the audience and I really didn't even know that she had been there until she came up, but I remember that NOTHING that night made me prouder or happier than being recognized on the then biggest night of my life by my big sister in front of that whole high school audience.