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My hero, my best friend, my Grannio (a.k.a my Grandmother)
She raised me like I was her own daughter from the day I was born 32 years ago.
She loved me like nobody else has ever loved me in my life.
She stood by through the most difficult days I've ever known.
She showed me more unconditional love and support than I've ever imagined.
She taught me how to live, how to love, how to be a lady, how to be a mommy and how to survive.
For 78 years, she had always been as healthy and stubborn as a mule.
About a year ago she stood by my side and fought tooth and nail to help me survive a bitter custody battle and win primary custody of my wonderful two year-old son, who is her only great-grandchild, and the love of her life and my life.
After fighting with everything she had inside of her and seeing me prevail in court, she suddenly became deathly sick. Within days she lost her ability to walk, eat, dress herself, or even get out of bed.
I quit my job to take care of her 24 hours a day. I spent every moment possible at her bedside, talking to her, trying to feed her, bathe her, brush her hair, change her clothes and make her take her medicine.
Finally my uncle, who lives 100 miles away from us, responded to my calls for help. He forced her to see a specialist in his home state.
She spent three months at one of the top hospitals in the country with more than ten doctors trying to figure out what was wrong with her. She suffered a heart attack. She had to be connected to life support. She was forced to have several emergency surgeries to remove a tumor, to remove a blood cot, and a few others to save her life, they said.
My son was not allowed to visit her. She cried a lot. She begged me to bring him. She asked for me constantly. I was told I couldn't visit for various reasons, primarily, because I was too emotional. I called her every day until they took her phone away.
I thought she was going to die.
She gave me a list of things I had to know, like where the safety deposit keys were hidden, where her cash savings was stowed at the house, where the bank accounts were and how much money she had and who was supposed to get what when she died.
I prayed every day - several times a day. I began a nightly ritual with my son, who learned to say "God Bless Ger," when he barely said other more common words, like "daddy."
Somehow, some way, some where, God was listening. He gave me the greatest blessing and answered our prayers about a month ago. The doctors finally identified Grannio's illness as 'vasculitis' and began intensive treatment.
Two weeks ago she was moved from the hospital to a rehabilitation center, just 10 miles from our home. She can't walk and she is just beginning to regain use of her arms, but she's alive. Thank God.
God granted us a miracle by giving life back to my Grannio.
My faith is unfathomable.
Resource Box - ę Danielle Hollister (2004) is the Publisher of BellaOnline Quotations Zine - A free newsletter for quote lovers featuring more than 10,000 quotations in dozens of categories like - love, friendship, children, inspiration, success, wisdom, family, life, and many more. Read it online at - http://www.bellaonline.com/articles/art8364.asp
Grandpas House & From Iraq with Love [Two Poems]
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Five Mixed Poems, with Notes [now is Spanish and English]
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Lord Byrons She Walks in Beauty
Lord Byron's opening couplet to "She Walks In Beauty" is among the most memorable and most quoted lines in romantic poetry. The opening lines are effortless, graceful, and beautiful, a fitting match for his poem about a woman who possesses effortless grace and beauty.
Storm Rising along the Lima Coast
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The Poets Corner [Three Poems with a review]
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Savage Nature: The Life of Ted Hughes
One of the most important poets of the post-war period, Edward James Hughes (1930-1998), was drawn towards the primitive. He was enchanted by the beauty of the natural world, frequently portraying its cruel and savage temperament in his work as a reflection of his own personal suffering and mystical beliefs - convinced that modern man had lost touch with the primordial side of his nature.
Wars, Air of Ambiguity [for: Lt. Laura Walker] in SPANISH and English
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Expressing an Emotion - The Art of Writing Poetry
Writing poetry is an art, a way of expression, finding meaning in few words. A melody of passion flowing out onto the pages, words that flow into each other and yet express the inner most thoughts and feelings of those who read the words.
Portrait Of The Artist As A Young Dog
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I Saw the Universe
I can see the cerulean blue of the skiesOr the indigo of the nightI can see the stars wink, the grin of the moonDuring the changes of it's monthly face**I am in awe**I see the sun on it's annual trekAlternately awakening the life in the earthAnd then fading away to allow it to sleepUntil the next spring**I am told the Universe is "out there"Beyond those stars, moon and sun,Yet the power of what I can seeIs a fathoming beyond my comprehension**I am in awe**"Out there" no time, no seasons passNo sense of age, hatred or loss existOnly the infinity0f the Universe**What IS "out there"?What IS the Universe that has no end?What IS the power that creates all this?I want to see it too**And then I remember..
Farewell to Lester Graybill
I never met a man, who could shake my hand, and make my heart feel like a hearth afire.I never met a man, who could smile so easy, real honest.
As I picked up some of the polished gemstones in the rock store I began to think about what the stones looked like before they were polished. The store had several rocks on display showing the before and after and I realized that unless you knew what you were looking for, you could easily pass by a valuable gemstone.
It's dark, it's cold, its' just six thirty,thoughts of sleep still dull my brain,As I huddle down, inside my coat,a commuter clone, just waiting for a train.Insidious rain, just drizzling down,through weak light of creeping dawn,Paper sandwich bags and old coffee cups,blowing past, look so forlorn.
Ode To Quetzalcoatal [Now in Spanish and English]
Ode to QuetzalcˇatlQuetzalcˇatl the GreatNo one knew his true name, so they Called him Quetzalcˇatl-feather Serpent He and his crew of nineteen: faces Strange faces, images of a prince, a lord: King of the Yucatan in the year 986 ADHe was a tall man; long cloths, sandals; White as day, with a long beard, black hair. Some say red: some don't say? But they called him priest, Lord, king Amongst many things: god!.
Black Blood, in Jeremiahs Vines - A Poem and an Article
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Ballade of an Inca King
Ah! Leave the gold, wealth and landSays the Inca King?; In Spain, they leave the bustling streets, For sail to Peruvian shores;The murmur of the gold is sweet,It glows and glistens like the sun A mountain of gold, or the grave Awaits the human, Inca-god?!Spaniards sing their songs of victoryWhere breaks the green Peruvian sea; Who now, worships the Inca King (?) Guarded behind prisons doors-?They chatter about his golden ringsThey watch the winds cross the shores? They count the days that idle by, For gold they worship and will die.Envoy.
Whats A Prisoner to Do?
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