Lila Johnson's Blog - Posts Tagged "death"
Saying Goodbye
As I tie up loose ends to my new book, the excitement mounts to the day that it will make its debut.
In the course of that excitement, I received some sad news. My first editor, Charli Coon, died earlier this week. She assisted with my first book, You Need Love Like I Do and partially with my new book.
Her death did not come as a surprise to some because she had battled poor health for some time. She and I became connected through my sister, working together through email, snail mail and once on the telephone.
Charli was a great asset and will be missed. Her death is a reminder of the importance to compliment and thank those who support us in our efforts, as often as possible.
May her spirit rest in peace-Amen.
In the course of that excitement, I received some sad news. My first editor, Charli Coon, died earlier this week. She assisted with my first book, You Need Love Like I Do and partially with my new book.
Her death did not come as a surprise to some because she had battled poor health for some time. She and I became connected through my sister, working together through email, snail mail and once on the telephone.
Charli was a great asset and will be missed. Her death is a reminder of the importance to compliment and thank those who support us in our efforts, as often as possible.
May her spirit rest in peace-Amen.
A Whisper on The Wind
Last Friday I recieved a call, one that everyone dreads. At 3:30 in the morning, my aunt called to say her sister died. It was so unexpected that I was too stunned and could not figure out why this had to happen my aunt Angela.
While at work, my mind recalled our teen years together. I laughed at the times when we, along with her other two sisters, pretended to be Diana Ross and the Supremes. Each of us would take turns at the broomstick/microphone and sing lead to their most popular songs.
But there is one thing that will always remind me of Angie, as we use to call her. She loved to read. As a teenager, she would devour books like a rat in a cheese factory. She could never get enough. It always surprised me that she chose books over dating. I would find her sprawled across her twin bed, paperback in one hand as other books, stacked on the floor, awaited their turn. One book in particular, The Thorn Birds, captured her attention to such a degree that she finished it in less than 48 hours.
I will never forget the expression on her face as she sat on the couch and read while eliminating all the noise and activity around her. Such concentration and love for reading.
I plan to dedicate my next book to aunt Angela. It will be my way to thank her for opening my eyes and heart to the world of great escapes through storytelling.
While at work, my mind recalled our teen years together. I laughed at the times when we, along with her other two sisters, pretended to be Diana Ross and the Supremes. Each of us would take turns at the broomstick/microphone and sing lead to their most popular songs.
But there is one thing that will always remind me of Angie, as we use to call her. She loved to read. As a teenager, she would devour books like a rat in a cheese factory. She could never get enough. It always surprised me that she chose books over dating. I would find her sprawled across her twin bed, paperback in one hand as other books, stacked on the floor, awaited their turn. One book in particular, The Thorn Birds, captured her attention to such a degree that she finished it in less than 48 hours.
I will never forget the expression on her face as she sat on the couch and read while eliminating all the noise and activity around her. Such concentration and love for reading.
I plan to dedicate my next book to aunt Angela. It will be my way to thank her for opening my eyes and heart to the world of great escapes through storytelling.
Just Breathe
Bear with me for a moment or two. My thoughts are scattered and I need a moment to pull it all together. I know that someone out there will understand when I say, at times you must take a moment to breathe. The sheer force of exhaling seems to, not only open the lungs but the mind, spirit and every cell in the body. So here we go...
I shared with my readers that in August my aunt Angela passed away. Why is it that eight months later, her youngest daughter, by way of the most unusual, died?
And almost two months ago I spoke of my cousin Freddie who, in an untimely, unexpected way, died. Now his mother, my aunt, is in ICU battling blood clots in her lungs. Let's not forget the surprising deaths of singer Prince, Billy Paul and Les Wass, the advertising legend behind the Mister Softee ice cream jingle.
This much sadness is enough to make a person want to sit down and stop trying to live. Sometimes you say what's the use? Well after I cried a little and moped a lot, I realized one thing. All these people did something in their lives that they loved and or enjoyed.
For example, my aunt Angela loved to read and after a few twists and turns on life's road, finally found love and marriage. My cousin Freddie volunteered his time and energy to so many causes and people. Aunt Louise gave the most wonderful handmade Christmas ornaments that remain in my collection to this day. The singers sang, the jingle on a ice cream truck made children laugh, scream and beg for a surgery delight and Angela's daughter danced to her own tune.
When I think of things in this way, I can't be sad. I'll miss their physical presence but what each person presented in life, will remain in my soul forever.
So, it's time to move forward, not linger on the things I can't change and breathe.
"One way to break up any kind of tension is good deep breathing." Byron Nelson
I shared with my readers that in August my aunt Angela passed away. Why is it that eight months later, her youngest daughter, by way of the most unusual, died?
And almost two months ago I spoke of my cousin Freddie who, in an untimely, unexpected way, died. Now his mother, my aunt, is in ICU battling blood clots in her lungs. Let's not forget the surprising deaths of singer Prince, Billy Paul and Les Wass, the advertising legend behind the Mister Softee ice cream jingle.
This much sadness is enough to make a person want to sit down and stop trying to live. Sometimes you say what's the use? Well after I cried a little and moped a lot, I realized one thing. All these people did something in their lives that they loved and or enjoyed.
For example, my aunt Angela loved to read and after a few twists and turns on life's road, finally found love and marriage. My cousin Freddie volunteered his time and energy to so many causes and people. Aunt Louise gave the most wonderful handmade Christmas ornaments that remain in my collection to this day. The singers sang, the jingle on a ice cream truck made children laugh, scream and beg for a surgery delight and Angela's daughter danced to her own tune.
When I think of things in this way, I can't be sad. I'll miss their physical presence but what each person presented in life, will remain in my soul forever.
So, it's time to move forward, not linger on the things I can't change and breathe.
"One way to break up any kind of tension is good deep breathing." Byron Nelson
Death of Two Trees
One late fall morning, I awoke to the sound of power saws-silence-then the roar of machines. I assumed that my fathers next door neighbor to the left of him, was up to his usual end of the season gardening and care taking. I closed my eyes, trying to return to the dream that included a handsome stranger, but it was of no use. After watching an episode of Perry Mason, I dressed and ran downstairs to take a peek outside to see what his neighbor was up to.
My heart seized when I found tree branches, chunks of tree trunks and then a stump in my father’s driveway. I couldn’t move. I was in shock. When did he decide to commit murder on the Ash trees? Didn’t we discuss just a month or so ago that we would wait on cutting them down, allowing them another two years to live out their lives?
When I asked my father about the trees, he lowered his newspaper and answered in a calm and casual voice, “They were old. They’re only cutting down the two trees in the front.” Then he returned to his paper. Just like that, he made up his mind. Death to the Ash trees.
I returned to the window and stared at the two men, dressed in safety gear, helmets and goggles. I watched as the long power saw in the hands of one of the men, sliced through the branches while yellow leaves fell and limbs, like arteries laid in the driveway dying away. One tree down, one to go. My heart couldn’t take the mutilation. I wanted to yell, “Stop! Leave and don’t come back!”
But it wasn’t my tree, nor my yard. “Those trees have been here since your mama and I moved here,” I heard my father say. That was thirty years ago. Translation, “Nothing lasts forever.” After grabbing my 35mm camera and snapping a few photos, I went outside to have a closer look at the first tree. It looked healthy to me when I saw the inner rings. I placed my hand on it and felt the moisture it still held. Yes, it still had two or more years of life in it and now…
As I walked back to the house, I couldn’t help but to feel a sense of loss, some pain for the two trees, the trees that once held beauty, shade and color in the fall. The trees that were once a part of the cycle of life, were no longer.
My heart seized when I found tree branches, chunks of tree trunks and then a stump in my father’s driveway. I couldn’t move. I was in shock. When did he decide to commit murder on the Ash trees? Didn’t we discuss just a month or so ago that we would wait on cutting them down, allowing them another two years to live out their lives?
When I asked my father about the trees, he lowered his newspaper and answered in a calm and casual voice, “They were old. They’re only cutting down the two trees in the front.” Then he returned to his paper. Just like that, he made up his mind. Death to the Ash trees.
I returned to the window and stared at the two men, dressed in safety gear, helmets and goggles. I watched as the long power saw in the hands of one of the men, sliced through the branches while yellow leaves fell and limbs, like arteries laid in the driveway dying away. One tree down, one to go. My heart couldn’t take the mutilation. I wanted to yell, “Stop! Leave and don’t come back!”
But it wasn’t my tree, nor my yard. “Those trees have been here since your mama and I moved here,” I heard my father say. That was thirty years ago. Translation, “Nothing lasts forever.” After grabbing my 35mm camera and snapping a few photos, I went outside to have a closer look at the first tree. It looked healthy to me when I saw the inner rings. I placed my hand on it and felt the moisture it still held. Yes, it still had two or more years of life in it and now…
As I walked back to the house, I couldn’t help but to feel a sense of loss, some pain for the two trees, the trees that once held beauty, shade and color in the fall. The trees that were once a part of the cycle of life, were no longer.
All is Well
Things haven't changed much since I posted of my brain tumor.
I continue to travel all over the country with my work as a travel nurse. I'm in my twentieth year and I still love it. My work as an author keeps me up until the wee hours of the morning, like now at one a.m. as I try to get my characters, Angela, Nicki and Sissy under control in my new novel, The Fat Girls Club Hawaii Five-NO!
A return trip to Maui, Hawaii has been paid for and next month I depart to celebrate and enjoy my belated birthday gift to myself and conduct the research for the new book. I look forward to seeing my former co-workers as I revisit my old stomping grounds.
My heart has mourned the loss of my maternal grandmother whom I loved dearly. I can't be sad because she is where she has always wanted to be, with her Lord, Jesus Christ. Just a few days ago my dear aunt died suddenly. I can't shed any tears for her because she lived her life to the fullest and for that, I applaud her.
I continue to exercise although at times I question myself-why? I take in all the warmth of the days of summer knowing they will soon end. I eat ice cream and frozen custard with abandon.
So you see, nothing much has changed. I celebrate life, all the good and bad of it. I celebrate living because like a child, I want it all.
I continue to travel all over the country with my work as a travel nurse. I'm in my twentieth year and I still love it. My work as an author keeps me up until the wee hours of the morning, like now at one a.m. as I try to get my characters, Angela, Nicki and Sissy under control in my new novel, The Fat Girls Club Hawaii Five-NO!
A return trip to Maui, Hawaii has been paid for and next month I depart to celebrate and enjoy my belated birthday gift to myself and conduct the research for the new book. I look forward to seeing my former co-workers as I revisit my old stomping grounds.
My heart has mourned the loss of my maternal grandmother whom I loved dearly. I can't be sad because she is where she has always wanted to be, with her Lord, Jesus Christ. Just a few days ago my dear aunt died suddenly. I can't shed any tears for her because she lived her life to the fullest and for that, I applaud her.
I continue to exercise although at times I question myself-why? I take in all the warmth of the days of summer knowing they will soon end. I eat ice cream and frozen custard with abandon.
So you see, nothing much has changed. I celebrate life, all the good and bad of it. I celebrate living because like a child, I want it all.
