Lisa Akers's Blog - Posts Tagged "fan-mail"

I got a package from a reader today! She said she's a fan of my books and Dragonflies and wanted to send me something! Squee!!! I was so excited! I've never received anything (physically) from a fan...I can't even believe I have fans! So after giving her a wrong address (the hubs fault), and it flittering around LOST, she finally tracked it down and told me where it was and who was holding it. So her good intentions ended up in kind of a mess, as the package was lost...but today it was found, on the second floor of 'The Tower' at Cherry Park, in the middle of all the softball/baseball fields! So I got it! But boy was I in for a surprise. You made me cry, Betty Lou Waibel... really, really cry...

Here's where the co-ink-a-dinks (or are they?) come in. Today, Maya Angelou, a famous poet and more, died. She was 86. After reading hundreds of quotes, last June I knew I had found the perfect epigraph for my first novel, "Let Me Go," when I came across this one from Maya: “There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside of you.” So if you have my book, that's right there, in the front. I knew I would catch some flak for Let Me Go, but it was bubbling inside me, and I had to write it. I. Just. Had. To. So it was such a fitting start to that novel. A novel that wouldn't be written if it wasn't for my mother-in-law. See, I left a career of 20 years in HR to be her caregiver. She was bedbound and required 24-hour care and I was her CareGiver for 18 months. She also died at age 86, like Maya.

Here's where I'm going with this story...bear with me. Everyone knows when you move, there's always ONE thing that is irreplaceable that gets broken. Always. Well, for me, it was the picture of my mother-in-law that you see here. Her husband, Harold, kept this particular picture of his wife of 60+ years on his nightstand. It was his favorite. He took care of her with very little help until he was 85. Bathed her, changed her, cut her hair, cooked her breakfast every single day. This was not easy for him as he had broken his back (twice) in the coal mines. He was not able to straighten up, he walked bent over, as if he were forever searching for something on the floor. He also had Black Lung from the mines. Truly a warrior and faithful husband until the end. He passed suddenly three days after his 85th birthday, with his head turned toward this picture, still on his nightstand. I inherited the picture, and his wife to take care of. This was not an easy job. It nearly killed me. I lost 30 lbs and suffered terrible back pain from the constant lifting/rolling. But it was the most important and gratifying thing I've ever done with my life. My MIL woke up from her delirium after I took her off of the multiple drugs they sedated her with, and she started talking again...watching TV, laughing (fighting and biting too, lol). But her spunky personality would sometimes emerge from under the dementia, and it was a joy to behold. I'd BEG her to talk to me...tell me about her life...laugh. Sometimes she went days without speaking, but when she spoke, it was worth hearing. It became a game for me to try to get her to laugh or talk. I danced for her with long flowing skirts twirling with my finger on my head, like a suspended ballerina, put on a cowboy hat and rode my son's stick-horse, galloping around and around her wheelchair until she'd grant me the smallest smile. I watched my favorite movie with her, discovering it was the ONLY movie she'd actually really watch with bug open eyes, and I sang along with Dorothy at the top of my lungs as we watched her follow the yellow brick road for the 200th time. For 18 months, this was my world. I rarely ever saw anyone outside this world. I lost touch with my friends, many of them work-friends, and was so exhausted and poorly-feeling, I didn't want to be seen by anyone. I was basically a recluse at the house. She had to be turned and/or changed every two hours... So many days it wasn't an option to leave. I had some help, more toward the end, but it was still a full-time+ job.

There are a few truly amazing stories that happened during this journey, and I will be writing the whole thing as a novella later in the series. But I wasn't a writer when I took care of her. I wasn't a nurse, or a CNA, or someone that had ever done any of the things I had to do. I learned each day, and each day she taught me a lesson. I took it hard when she passed. I felt like I didn't do good enough, like somehow it was my fault. I took it hard. I grieved for her, and my lost career, my lost friends, and my lost physical capabilities. I saw a massage therapist (hello, Renew You) and a chiropractor, but I didn't think I'd ever be able to go back to work. Suddenly, for the first time in my life, I had time on my hands. Thus, I used that time to write, with the picture of my MIL on my desk, watching over every word. Let Me Go was born... And then the next, and I'm working on the third as well outlining as a new series. My MIL unknowingly gave me a new work-life, one that was better than the one I had before. And one I could make a difference with. I write about Survivors. I am trying to make a difference, and many have said I have (and I cherish those emails, PM's, comments and reviews).

So today, I found my MIL's picture as I was unpacking a box--cracked. I took it to my husband, crying...for the loss of the precious glass that was a part of the original frame and picture, and crying because I failed again, in keeping the picture of her safe. I thought he'd be mad at me. But he wasn't. He knew how much it had meant to his dad, and to me, and he said he'd find new (old) glass to replace it. My MIL died at 86. The epigraph in the book I wrote, only because the end of her life allowed me to start anew in something different, was written by Maya Angelou, who died today, also at age 86.

Then I finally got to open my package from a fan of my work. She told me she had taken a picture (2) of a red dragonfly and its shadow--a Scarlet Darter, seen in Europe, originating from Africa. That was what I was expecting. But what I got was that (and it's an extraordinary snapshot...I love it), AND a beautiful cut-glass dragonfly statue, some wonderful dragonfly notecards, and finally two children's books(?). I was surprised! That was a bit odd. So I opened the first one, reading very quickly...it was a sad but beautiful story of dying, in which after dying, a nymph becomes a beautiful dragonfly that consoles her friend when the friend feels the blame for her death (ummm...hello?). The second book, "The Dragonfly Secret," stars the same dragonfly in a story about loss (death) and change, as she discovers her special gift in death... By delivering a message to a little boys parents from beyond the grave...It's a touching story. Here's what made me cry...the dragonfly's name...is Lea!! My mother-in-laws name is Lea!! Same spelling. My husbands name is David...the same name as the boy in the book!

My reader is not the author of these books, nor do I believe she knew about my mother-in-law, Lea Akers. I don't know why she sent them to me, other than because the story revolves around a dragonfly. I truly am gobsmacked. Thank you, Betty Lou Waibel for bringing this message to me... You've touched both me and my husband and we truly feel Lea had a hand in this, through you.

Sorry if this is a jumbled up mess of rambling...but that is how my head feels right now with all of the coincidences and such. I feel as if Lea hand-picked Betty Lou to put this package together, send it to an un-explained origin wrong address, only to locate it TODAY, of all days--all the way from NY--and alert me as to its whereabouts ON THIS DAY...

If you read this far, you deserve a gold star... Thanks for bearing with me, and God Bless Betty from New York!





(This post from my FB May 28, 2014)