Good Grief

June 25, 2016 by Reagan Fleming in thoughts

Society teaches us that having feelings and crying is bad and wrong. Well, that's baloney, because grief isn't wrong. There's such a thing as good grief. Just ask Charlie Brown. - Michael Scott

Now, if you haven't learned something from the 9 seasons of The Office, then I don't know what you're doing with your life. This show is a gold mine (or as I once said while sleep-deprived: a land mine) of important quotes to remember throughout your life.

Just kidding, it's just a really funny show. However, part of the second sentence in the quote is right on the money: "...grief isn't wrong." Grief is not a bad thing to experience, which is a fact that I have had a very hard time wrapping my head around. It's not (despite how you may be feeling) a warning sign that your life is going down the toilet. Say it with me: grief. is. normal. But hey, not everyone hits the "five stages of grief" at the same time. I sure as heck did not.

You can't map grief because it's not static, it's a moving target that doesn't ever fully end. - Kayla Jacobs

My sister brought this quote to my attention a couple of days ago, and it was one that really resonated with me. She texted it to me after I informed her that both of my dogs had to be put down. Let me just tell you something, readers: these dogs were adorable. They were small, white, fluffy Maltese, each with their own personalities. Here is proof:

What made things way worse, was that I had these dogs when my dad was still alive. Again, Michael Scott stole the words right out of my mouth: "It feels like somebody took my heart and dropped it into a bucket of boiling tears." I feel ya, man.

My dad died 8 years ago, and I can honestly say that I was in shock for an entire year after his death. I missed him, obviously (still do), but at the wonderfully awkward age of 12, I didn't properly grieve. It hasn't been until recently that I've been able to do so. (Hence the reason why I said that grief doesn't have a set timeline).

I am a writing major and I obviously have taken and am currently taking many writing/English classes. One class in particular that I was so excited to take in my sophomore year of college, was Introduction to Writing. In that class, near the end of the semester, I wrote a detached autobiography (only 3 or so pages) titled, "Daddy Daughter Dates." I was and still am extremely proud of this essay. It acted as a therapy session for me; I took some much-needed time to remember how I was feeling at the time of the funeral, which in turn helped me sort out my emotions currently.

I decided to post this essay on The Odyssey Online. For those of you who don't know, I am a weekly Odyssey Online writer. Click here for the link to my site. This week, I chose to post something a little more serious and heartfelt to balance out the posts filled with funny gifs. Click here to read it.

Note #1: The cover photo is of me and my dad, and we are totally rocking the 'cheesy sunglasses' look.

Note #2: Despite being a very smiley person now, I never smiled as a child. When you click the link, you'll see for yourself.

Reagan Fleming

Oh, Canada.

June 02, 2016 by Reagan Fleming in travels

I am currently in the land of my people. The land I call Canada.

Just kidding, I'm only half Canadian. But I am indeed in Canada, the lovely province of Ontario to be more specific. Fun fact: there are a lot of maple things here - cookies, candies, etc. My personal favorite is the maple-flavored syrup that I choose to put in my lattes.

My mom and I are in Canada because my grandma's health took a hit; she was moved to hospice and died just a few days after. We immediately packed up our suitcases and booked it to see her and my other relatives. I didn't think we were going to spend more than a week here for some reason, so I only brought a couple of outfits - whatever fit in a small suitcase. (Oh, and I mean a couple of outfits. I have been wearing, washing, and wearing things again and again. To those of you who see me in the same gray and black shirts, I'm sorry. But I promise that they're clean).

We traveled through the night, and went directly to where grandma was staying. At this point, it was 4am and we both were incredibly tired, but we pushed through it. We got in the building, reached the floor she was on, and were "greeted" by a resident. My mom and I stopped at the community room where one man was quietly sitting in one of the chairs, silent and content. No, this was not the resident that greeted us... There was a woman walking slowly to the end of the hallway and back, saying, "Oh please help me!" My mom didn't seem worried, whereas I was about ready to run through the halls, calling for a nurse. It was when I was about to suggest my plan to my mom, that I realized what was happening: this lady was trying to escape.

I've heard stories of the elderly escaping their nursing homes, only to get lost in the streets somewhere, unable to find their way back. However, I've never been the "almost-accomplice" to one of these escapes before. I don't know if that woman completely forgot where she was, or literally just wanted to escape, but I desperately tried (and failed) to not make eye contact with her. Thankfully, my grandma's hallway was nearby, so we could just hastened on over there.

After she passed away, I was placed with a job in preparation of the funeral; it was to scan photos of my grandma onto my computer, and then transfer those photos on to a flash drive. I thought this would be the easiest task in the world, and I was the one that was graced with this task. Nope. Here is how it actually went:

It took a good 30 minutes to figure out how to set up the scanner to my computer, which is a Mac, and then it took another 20 minutes to figure out how to actually scan the pictures. I like to think of myself as tech savvy, but I stand corrected. Give me a word document or powerpoint, and I got you. (Actually, I once totally messed up a presentation/big speech during my freshman year of college because I couldn't get my powerpoint to work. It was a speech about music, and obviously the music wouldn't play once I started speaking, because that would just be too much good luck for one person.)

There were some pictures that really stood out to me while I was scanning them and watching Arrested Development simultaneously:

Another memory I have of my grandma's nursing home, is when my mom, sister and I were walking past the community room where a lot of residential men and women were scattered about - most were in chairs, sitting quietly, and others were slowly but surely walking around, enjoying the scenery. The ones sitting by themselves were either watching TV or just staring blankly ahead. I was taking this all in while we were en route to my grandma's room, but were stopped when a middle-aged woman said abruptly, "I just peed my pants!" She had no expression on her face when she hunched over and quickly walked out of the room, but didn't leave without sharing that news with those around her. Despite the bladder issue, she seemed like a lovely, honest woman.

This, my friends, is Lake Ontario. Many mornings, my mom and I would grab maple lattes (how original, I know) and walk around the Lake, reminiscing about old memories in Canada.

And here's a blurry picture of my mom while we walked along the semi in focus Canadian ground.

I really love being in Canada. At the time that I first started writing this post, I was actually in Canada, but now I'm back home. I have some really really great memories of that place, ones that my mom and I got to talk about during our walks. Some moments stood out to me more than others, and same for her. When discussing an event or time in your life that you and another person were apart of, it's interesting to see which details made an impact on them, and which ones they forgot entirely until you brought them up again. Sadly, I don't have any memories where my grandma didn't have Alzheimers and technically wasn't her usual self, but I do remember her playing her organ and singing - music was a big part of her life. She was a wonderful organist and pianist, and knew many hymns by heart. Back when she could still walk, my mom, sisters and I took her to a piano in the nursing home. She sat down, played her songs, and sang along to it - all by memory. This was while she had Alzheimers, which messed with her memory, but apparently didn't mess with her memories of hymns and other songs.

Grandma, you are missed. But I'm glad that you're in Heaven now, where your memory is completely restored.

Reagan Fleming

Poem

April 28, 2016 by Reagan Fleming in original works

This is a poem that I written for one of my writing classes. I wrote this about a Christmas party that my friends & I had. We danced, ate candy, & played charades. At one point, when we danced to the song Come On Eileen (featured in Perks of Being a Wallflower), I looked over to my friend who was dancing across from me & she had the biggest smile on her face. I realized that I was smiling too; I had been dancing how I wanted to, not caring if I was good or not (I'm not, just to clarify). I then thought to myself: "This is going to be one of those nights that I look back on, & remember as one of the best nights of my life." I had never felt so free. The thing is - what I'm realizing as I type this - there was a reason why I felt so free; I was around people I loved, dancing to music I enjoyed, & I finally allowed myself to dance the way I wanted to. Usually when I hit the peak of my embarrassment, I stop dancing. But instead, I pushed aside the self-conscious thoughts, & I just had fun.

So, that is my little background story as to why I titled this poem what is.

Completely Uninhibited

Before it began,

we set up the room

with some balloons

and streamers draping;

all for a celebration

of the birth

of someone worth

celebrating.

We danced like the friends

in that wallflower

movie.

Because when we danced,

we danced without a care,

even though dancing is so

unlike me.

Minutes in, a voice said

I’m making myself a fool.

Yes, I have two left

feet, but I chose not to

listen. So we danced

together and out of sync

to our favorite music.

We’re bad dancers with

good jokes,

rhythmless comedians.

But in the end, although

imperfect,

that night,

it was memorable.

It was perfect.

It was when I felt

completely uninhibited.