A much needed family birthday celebration

My Missouri cousins are the best!

A couple of weekends ago, I went to Independence to visit and to do a bit of work. You see, my cousins find themselves in the same boat as I am. Within the past year, both of their parents died and my cousins are now tasked with sorting through all the stuff in their parents' house and making decisions of what to keep and what to get rid of. A tough task. 

As they were sorting through stuff, they came across some family items they thought I might want. I had offered to help them and since we really hadn't had a good visit since their mother died, I traveled the I-70 autobahn to get in some quality cousin time.

It did not disappoint!

The weekend also served as an early celebration of my impending trip-around-the-sun anniversary. You see, this will be my first birthday without either of my parents. As I mentioned in an earlier post (https://morewithles.blogspot.com/2025/04/dealing-with-firsts-remembering-lasts.html), dealing with firsts during the grieving process can be tough.

I had planned to get one of my favorite meals on my birthday and call it good. My cousin, Lori, who is the caretaker of the family, had other ideas. She and her sister, Jennifer, with the help of their families, put together a great weekend!

Of course, we took no pix of the weekend so here is one from
a while back. I think I was two. I am a bit taller now.
Photo © Leslie Eikleberry 2025

There was the traditional singing of "Happy Birthday to You." We also had some delicious birthday cake from a bakery. Good job selecting the cakes, Tracy! No need to tell Lori, but the piece she sent home with me didn't last very long after I got home. (In my defense, I did have to stay up a while and make sure my phone and Apple watch were charged, as I was getting low battery notifications on both by the time I got home from the weekend.)

We also had a family favorite: homemade ice cream! It had been a while since I had homemade ice cream. It was just as tasty as I remember and brought back a lot of memories of time spent with family over the years. 

And let's not forget the birthday dinner: pizza from Minsky's. When Lori told me we were having pizza for dinner "if that's OK," I was like "Sure, twist my arm!" Pizza is my favorite food and after seeing a bazillion Minsky's commercials on TV, I was excited to finally be trying it! I also was happy to discover that despite my lack of gallbladder, I can still eat pepperoni pizza! (I'm sure my doctor will not find as much joy in that discovery.)

One of my young cousins (Lori's granddaughter) who even at grade school age is an aspiring actress, recited some of her lines for me. She did a good job. 

Much of the time was spent looking through papers and photos and reminiscing. (Cue the Little River Band.)

All in all, it was a great weekend filled with love and family! Thank you, cousins, for helping me transition through another first! Love you!

We're not the Cunninghams, but we are family

 

"Family's more than just DNA. It's about people who care and take care of each other." Leroy Jethro Gibbs (NCIS, Season 9 Episode 4, 2011)

I've been thinking a lot about family lately, so yesterday, while watching an NCIS marathon on WE TV, my famdar (family radar) went off when Gibbs said the above to Abby Sciuto. That quote truly encompasses what I've come to believe about family. 

Although Mom, Dad, and I were a close-knit family, growing up, I always knew that eventually my parents would be gone and it would just be me. I didn't think much about it though, living in the moment instead of worry about the future. 

Then, two years ago, Dad died and last year, Mom left to join him.

But you know what? It wasn't just me who was left. In reality, over the years, my family had actually grown. While I don't share DNA with a number of my family members, I do share the caring and taking care of components with them. 

Sometimes, the caring and taking care of is in person, such as when two very dear friends gave me rides home from the hospital the two weeks in a row that I had unplanned surgeries a couple of months after Mom died. I had taken an ambulance to the hospital each time, so did not have a car at the hospital. In one case, we also "drug Fe" on the way home, a throwback to our youth when, as teens, we would drive up and down Santa Fe Avenue socializing with our friends. It was a delightful diversion and got my mind off of my recent lung surgery for a bit. 

Another dear friend, who called my folks "Mom and Dad Eikleberry," not only spent two hours on the phone with me after Mom died, but also drove hours to support me and help out on the day of Mom's funeral. She also made a quick trip to Salina the night of Dad's visitation as she was not able to attend the funeral. She continues to check in on me and let me know that I am loved. 

Two other friends, who were my students when I worked at Emporia State, surprised me, also driving hours to attend Mom's funeral. It meant the world to me to have them there and I consider them family as well.

Then there are the longtime family friends who have known me since I was about five years old who now invite me to holiday and family get-togethers. They check on me regularly, and I on them.

And let's not forget my two first cousins, who now are my closest, DNA-sharing, living relatives whether they like it or not! LOL!  😁 They, too, were here for me when my folks died and have continued to keep in touch. I try to do the same.

A month after Mom died, her brother died. He was a great guy and you can read about him here: https://morewithles.blogspot.com/2024/09/. So, I headed to Kansas City, not only to pay tribute to an uncle I loved dearly, but also to support my cousins as they had done for me.

While there, I spent time with my aunt's side of the family, many of whom I had not met before. They embraced me and included me as one of the family.

Last weekend, I was in Kansas City again. This time for my aunt's funeral. Although it was a sad occasion, I am glad she is no longer suffering and missing the love of her life. (She and my uncle had been together since they were freshmen in college.)

Despite the grieving, it was good to see my aunt's family, who now have become my extended family. I don't know whether we will see each other again, but there are ways we will keep in touch. 

Of course, I also have several friends with whom I am in regular contact. Although we don't see each other often, the bond is there and they are family. I know that if I needed them, they would be here for me. I also have several cousins from Dad's side of the family with whom I keep in contact.

There is no one set way to define family. Not all families are like those portrayed on TV by the Cunninghams ("Happy Days") or "The Waltons." Decades ago, even TV families broke the mold of how to define "family" with such shows as "The Brady Bunch" and "My Three Sons." 

The concept of "family" is different for each of us. We each determine who we allow in our family. 

Embrace those people and let them know that you love them. To all of my family: I love you dearly! Hugs to all!

Dealing with firsts, remembering lasts

Firsts and lasts. It seems they are always with us. 

For instance, this week, the NFL will conduct its annual draft. A big to-do will be made for the young man who is drafted first. Likewise, the final draft pick, Mr. Irrelevant, will be feted with a variety of events during Irrelevant Week.

Races and elections have firsts and lasts. Gardens have first blooms and last blooms. Families with more than one child have first-born and last-born children.

Over the past couple of years, I have learned that the grieving process adds a whole new meaning to firsts and lasts. 

Sure, I already knew a great deal about the grieving process thanks to my counseling-based master's degree. Because of my training, I understand the concepts of why I have reacted the way I have over the past couple of years after losing several loved ones. But even all that education didn't prepare me for the emotional gut punch of firsts and lasts. 

Thanksgiving and Christmas were a bit difficult last year, as they were the first holidays I celebrated without both my parents. Fortunately, close family friends, chosen family really, included me in their festivities, so I was surrounded by love and a sense of belonging that I wouldn't have felt had I spent the holidays alone.

Shortly before Thanksgiving, I took some flowers out to the cemetery. I did so because of the holiday, but also because it almost was Mom's birthday and I hadn't been out to the cemetery since the monument company got my folks' headstone set. I had been in the hospital having one of my two unplanned surgeries in two weeks when the headstone was set. 

The drive out to the cemetery is 10-15 minutes through the Saline County countryside. The whole way out, I told myself that I could do it. I could be strong and not blubber my way through the visit. I did pretty good for the first minute or so, but my emotions got the best of me and tears rolled down my face. I must have been well-hydrated that day because the tears continued all the way back to town.

And you know what? That was OK. I needed the catharsis that the crying provided. In looking back on the visit, the only reason I truly needed to be strong was to be able to face that first cemetery visit head-on. I'm sure there will still be tears when I visit the cemetery, but that first time is now over and I know that I will be OK.

Some firsts have been weirdly positive. For instance, a few weeks ago, we had our first tornado warning of the season. As I sat on the basement steps with my go-bag of food, water, and now, medicine, I realized how glad I was that Mom was not here. 

Now some will think that is bad, but the reality is that Mom's safety was my utmost concern in her last few years and had she still been alive, I'm not sure what we would have done during the tornado warning. There would have been no way that she could have made it downstairs. Had she still been alive I wouldn't want her final moments to be the sheer terror of being tossed around in the air by a tornado.

As it turned out, her final moments were peaceful and she was kept comfortable by a caring medical staff. Her final words before she slipped into a coma in the emergency room due to a fast-growing brain bleed, were that her head hurt. 

That comment will always stay with me, but so will a couple of conversations we had the week prior. Because of the dementia brought on by Parkinson's, Mom, in her final months, often was simple and childlike. Every once in a while, however, she was "my Mom" and we had some great talks. I will always hang on to those.

The other day, while in the kitchen, I happened to notice a grocery list on the refrigerator. For years, we had kept a pad of paper on the refrigerator and would write down grocery needs until one of us went to the store. After Dad had gotten sick and was either in the hospital or rehabbing at a nursing facility after his cancer surgery, I started keeping the grocery list on a note pad near my computer. It worked out well as I have ordered groceries online since COVID hit.

The grocery list I saw on the refrigerator the other day was Dad's last grocery list. Additionally, Mom's last towel still hangs in the bathroom. At some point, as I work through the grieving process, I will remove both the grocery list and the towel, but not yet.

Last fall, a college roommate called me out of the blue. Although we kept up with each other via Facebook, we hadn't spoken in a long time. She had a lot to tell me, including about her health issues and her grieving for her longtime significant other who had recently died. We had quite a long conversation with me mainly listening and occasionally offering words of encouragement as I thought appropriate.

As it turned out, it was the last conversation I would have with my college roommate. She died about a month later. I'm still going through the "I need to ask her about" stage and then realizing that I can't. At some point, that, too, will pass. But I will always remember that last conversation with her.

I suspect there will be a number of additional firsts and lasts as I work my way through the grieving process. Sometimes it will be tough, but they are part of who I am and I will make it through. The key will be to deal with the firsts, remember the lasts, and keep moving forward.

Sunflowers and standing up to bullies

Shortly after Russia invaded Ukraine on February 24, 2022 -- a Thursday -- a right-leaning friend of mine assured me that the war "would be over by the weekend."

Yet here we are, more than three years later and small but mighty Ukraine continues to stand up to bully Russia. The Ukrainians' success in continuing to fight the good fight is, in part due to people doing what they can when they can. 

For much of that time, the United States, as a country, was doing what it could to help Ukraine's effort. The current administration, however, has pulled the rug out from under the Ukrainians, pausing our country's support for them. This goes against everything the United States has stood for during its nearly 250-year history.

In my heart of hearts, I truly believe that a majority of Americans are not in favor of alignment with Russia, but they are not being heard by many of those elected to govern our country. Ordinary citizens struggle daily to get through to their elected representatives. A number of right-leaning lawmakers now parrot Russian talking points, including blaming Ukraine for starting the war. Nothing could be further from the truth.

As I was thinking of this weak, pathetic, cowardly situation our government has gotten us into, I happened to glance across the room and saw something that caused me to smile and be reminded that there are more good Americans than bad.

In June 2022, a group of local and area artists working with Peggy and Wayne DeBey at The Flower Nook had a fundraiser to help the people of Ukraine. More than 100 pieces of art featuring sunflowers, the national flower of Ukraine, were created by the talented artists and available for sale at The Flower Nook in time for the business' June First Friday event. 

Thousands of dollars were raised and contributed to the Warsaw Museum of Modern Art for its Ukrainian refugee efforts. At the time the effort was announced, one of the organizers, Linda Foster of Miltonvale, told me that the Warsaw museum was selected because it was opening its doors to Ukrainian refugees, doing such things as feeding refugees and helping them find medical services and fill out paperwork. 

(Full disclosure: I wrote several stories about the artists' efforts while running Salina Post.)

While I was at The Flower Nook looking over the sunflower art offerings and shooting some photos, I found a piece I couldn't live without. I agreed to not take the painting home until after The Flower Nook's First Friday event, and Peggy kindly reserved it in my name.

The sunflower painting I purchased. No, I haven't hung the
painting yet because I still have not found a frame I like.
Photo © Leslie Eikleberry 2025

The piece I purchased was by Salina artist Marcy Roth, who wrote on the back, "Throughout the day, the sunflower lifts its face toward the sun...towards light. It is my wish for the people of Ukraine that they too, are able to lift their faces towards hope and healing in the midst of this tragic war."

Roth and her group of local and area artists were just more people doing what they could when they could. 

Have you done what you can?

Happy birthday, Dad!

"Hi, kid!"

For years, that's how my Dad greeted me when I got home from work.

I've been thinking a lot about my Dad today. You see, it is his birthday. The third one without him here. 

I had hoped to take some flowers out to the cemetery, but Snowmageddon 2025.3 put a stop to that. The country road that leads to the cemetery is not good whenever any sort of moisture is involved, and I don't want to risk getting stuck, so I'll have to imagine a beautiful bouquet of flowers and a visit with Dad.

When I moved back to my hometown to take a public relations job at a local university, the initial plan was for me to live with my folks until I could get my house in Emporia sold and find a place here. One thing led to another and the longer I lived with my senior parents, the more it became apparent that they needed a bit of help. So I continued to live with my folks, Dad for about twenty years and Mom for more than twenty-one years.

Familywise, those were some of the best years of my life. Sure, we had our differences. Dad was a dyed-in-the-wool Republican who moved farther to the right the older he got. For a number of years, I, too, was a registered Republican, but I couldn't reconcile that with my gut instinct to truly have empathy for others and help those in need. Brownback's "experiment" was the last straw for me. I reside in the moderate part of the political spectrum.

Nonetheless, we had a lot of good times. 

Once I started working at the senior center as the executive director, Dad was a regular fixture, whether it was bringing Mom to her sewing group, having coffee with his friends or hanging out with the guys in the pool room. He always popped into my office for a bit, usually to fill me in on the latest gossip he had heard.

We took vacations together, attended family reunions and funerals in Minnesota together, and attended a lot of football games. My folks started taking me to Salina High football games when I was four. A few years later, they started buying season tickets for Mustang football and kept those seats for decades. When I moved back home, a seat for me was added to the season tickets. I, of course, proudly joined Dad as a Mustang alum!

When Mom and Dad were no longer able to climb the stairs of the stadium, we made a point of watching college football games together on TV. Of course, as we had since I was a child, we watched the Chiefs on Sundays. I'm glad both my folks got to see the Chiefs do well before they died. 

Dad's last Christmas with us, I got us all Chiefs' shirts. I think he knew then that he was dying, as he gave me an earful about wasting money on Christmas presents for him. That very night, he went back to the hospital and less than two weeks later, he was dead.

Dad, taken two days before he went back
to the hospital for the final time.
Photo © Leslie Eikleberry 2025

I'm still amazed at how much Dad's illness and surgery took out of him. He went from a vital senior to a hesitant, thin, unsteady old man in a matter of months.

In the fall of 2022, Dad was diagnosed with rectal cancer. The surgery and radiation went well and the doctors were confident that they had gotten all of the cancer. What none of us knew at the time, however, was that Dad had developed what essentially was a small ulcer at the top of his colon. I suspect it was, in part, from worrying about his cancer diagnosis. Through the hole caused by the ulcer, bad bacteria was able to leak into his chest cavity and he developed a bad infection that his 90-year-old body just couldn't handle.

Although I miss my Dad greatly, I am glad he is no longer suffering. That infection wreaked havoc on his body and his final few days on Earth were not pleasant.

Even though Dad has been gone for a while now, I still have moments when I think to myself, "I need to remember to tell Dad about that." Sometimes, when I walk in the front door, in my head I hear him say "Hi, kid!" I guess that is my way of holding on to memories.

Happy birthday, Dad! I love and miss you greatly.

Everything old is new again

The phrase "Everything old is new again" has special meaning for me these days. 

When I was young, I had a kid-sized table and chairs. Quite often, I used the table when I colored, which I loved to do. (Still do!) We also used it when playing house. Additionally, the table doubled as the kiddie table when there were family food gatherings. 

Once I outgrew the table and chairs, Dad put them in the basement. 

One year for Christmas, again when I was young, I received a toy riding horse. It seemed huge at the time. The horse was made of wood and painted red and white. It was attached to a solid wooden frame with springs. The idea was to pretend to be riding a horse while bouncing it on the springs.

My horse. Photo © Leslie Eikleberry 2025

I loved that horse and I loved to make it bounce. I would get to bouncing so hard, that the frame would come up off the floor, making loud thumping noises. That would send Mom running in my direction, as she thought I had fallen! Needless to say, I got into trouble often for bouncing the horse off the floor!

As happened with the table and chairs, I outgrew the horse. And like the table and chairs, the horse was relegated to the basement. There, they all stayed for decades.

When I sold my childhood home in December, I left the table, chairs, and horse for the new owner to dispose of as he pleased. Little did I know that he would bring new life to my old playthings and cause me happiness once again.

One day, a few weeks after the sale, the new owner texted me a short video of his young daughter playing on the horse on their porch. He told me that the horse was still in good shape and that all he had to do was dust it off!

Then today, he sent me a couple of photos of his adorable young daughter sitting at the table. In one, she is giving me a thumbs up! He had moved the table and chairs to their home and now she has her own personal table and chairs!

Both instanced did my heart good to see another youngster enjoying my playthings as much as I did!

I also was touched that the new owner cared enough to share his daughter's joy with me.

With all of the divisiveness and disarray in our world these days, it's nice to have first-hand examples that there are still good people in this world and that there is a happy little girl who is loving her new horse and table and chairs!

A hand for the Lady Gaga song selection

The Chiefs hat I am wearing today.
Photo © Leslie Eikleberry 2025

The song that Lady Gaga sang before the Super Bowl game today holds a special place in my heart. 

A little over two years ago, I had finally gotten the chance to watch Top Gun: Maverick. Hold My Hand has a prominent place toward the end of the movie. 

As the credits were rolling, I drifted off to sleep, only to be awaken a few minutes later when the hospital called at about 12:30 a.m. to tell me that Dad had died. All the while, Hold My Hand was playing on a loop in my head.

At the time, I thought it was Dad's way of letting me know that he would always be with me.

While I know the song had another meaning today, I also believe that Lady Gaga singing Hold My Hand was Dad checking in with me. We didn't watch all football games together, but Mom, Dad, and I did watch the Super Bowl together.

Although he's not physically here, I know Dad is still watching the Super Bowl with me. A photo of Mom will probably soon pop up on my watch to let me know that Mom also is watching with us.