Liz

Hey god, it’s Liz again.

How are you doing today? Good I hope. It’s my usual time on the usual day – Sunday. Sorry I couldn’t make it last week. You already know, I was in the hospital – thanks for that by the way. I’ve already had open-heart surgery back in the day when we thought we’d more likely die than come out alive - and I’m on constant medication to regulate everything in my body. But, I guess I can’t complain at ninety-two. I’ve still got my mind regardless of my body, so I thank you for that.

Thanks for letting me stick around for another year. Seeing the family is always wonderful. The days of immigration my own parents endured years ago no one would have ever thought how wonderful it would all turn out. Maybe it’s the ages, maybe it’s the new millennium – but I see hope in our future. Hope I credit to you.

I wish you’d give me a little bit more of the ability to “go-go-go” like I used to. It seems I am slowing down, but time is constantly speeding up. I guess that’s what happens when you get old and wrinkled.

I’m not here to really ask you for anything today other than to listen. The answers I seek now can’t be answered while I am here on Earth – like how Isabella, my sister, is doing. Or how Oscar, my loving husband, is making out up there? My brother, Al and his wife, Geraldine – I bet they’re still laying in the sand looking up at the stars – clouds substituted for sand of course, but nothing can substitute for the stars.

There are many others I can’t wait to see – but there are so many still here I can wait to leave. I never would of thought, back in Indiana when Oscar would follow me everywhere telling everyone I was his woman – yet had never quite asked me out – never woulda thought that our family would be so big and turn out so wonderful. Sure, each of them has their problems – but nothing it doesn’t seem they can’t handle. None of them prey on each other nor do they argue, fuss, or fight when they gather. They seem to fuss over me a lot nowadays – I guess that’s to be expected at my age – but I wish they’d stop.

If I fall I fall. If I drop I drop. I’ve lived a long time – which I thank you for. A century would be nice, but I don’t know what cards you dealt for me long ago – so if it’s an ace or a two – I’m game either way. Never really was a betting woman – I just let them fall as they may and deal with the circumstances. What else is there to do? I could worry and worry about everything – which I did many times growing old. You gave me some doozies to ponder – that I’ll give ya. However, I persisted – well, persevered – you let me persist.

Can I ask you something that maybe you’ll answer later? How come you’ve given so much chaos to the world? Is it our own design, or did you introduce it? Or has it always been there and now there is just more people in concentrated areas so it’s more apparent and broadcasted over every media possible – at my age, I can’t even keep track of them all.

The other night I was actually watching television – considering I’m usually reading a book – but you made my eyes hurt even with my magnifying glass as I was reading. At that point, I figured I might as well assume my position and lay in my chair, since sleeping in a bed laying flat doesn’t really work anymore and causes me pain. So, I was watching television as I tried to sleep, and as you know, I don’t seem to sleep much anymore. I try, but it’s never comfortable and always short lived.

I was watching Deal or No Deal with that adorable Howie Mandel. I can’t believe he shaved his head – man that was a shocker. He had the funniest skits of a comedian I remember – that Bobby voice and all – but he lost his crazy hair. Maybe he had to shave it like so many aging men do. The bald thing suits him well once you get used to it. Oh man, I’m rambling on about Howie again – I tend to do that - back to my point.

I wish we had a show like that when I was young. Guaranteed to walk out of there with, if you’re smart and a bit lucky, $100,000. That was a fortune when I was a kid. It still is when you think of it – or isn’t it? Maybe it’s not. Times have changed – and I’ve used a lot of the money Oscar, bless his cute soul, and I put away, let alone our retirement funds, investments, and insurance. I’ve got enough to get me through – thankfully you let me live on my own all these years. Never committing me to a home or an in-house situation. I fear my body is weakening with my current jaunt to the hospital. Maybe I will have to move in with Nelly and George. I just hate to be a burden on anyone, not that I would be. But you know me – I’ve always been a loner so to speak – enjoying my life – happy to be alone when I was – content with being me.

Maybe it is time though to move in there – that’s something I have to decide sooner than later I fear. Maybe you can take me before then? I’d like to catch up with some old friends.

My knees are beginning to get sore. Do you mind if I just sit in the pew? Even if you do, I can’t help it. I gotta just sit. Oh, and why, oh why, did you make all of us Catholics go through all those motions of sit, stand, kneel, sit, kneel, stand, kneel, sit, stand, kneel, stand, etc, etc – if you wanted to keep us awake all you had to do was get some good priests – like Father Joseph we have here at your church. It was a wonderful birthday party they had for him at the church the other night. His forty-fifth birthday. I hope he stays around for a long time here at St. Anthony. No one will get bored, and maybe we can stop all the standing, kneeling, sitting thingy.

Sitting here, watching the sun set through the glass always amazes me. The colored glass and the colored streaks of air flowing through them - I love this time of day in here. Many people don’t show up around this time since most go to mass in the morning and pray with everyone else. I’m glad you let me make that deal with you years ago after Oscar died and I got so upset. I’m glad you let me show up here when I wanted to rather than when the church had it regular service. I don’t need a piece of bread or a sip of wine to let me know you are out there and listening. I don’t need those things to make me a good person or teach me the right way. So I thank you for our deal. Had you not agreed, I’m not sure what I would have done – but we’ve already covered that topic years ago.

Oh, hey, I was wondering. Are you ever gonna let me see enough to drive again? I gave it up years ago – but it’s one thing I miss. Riding the buses, taking the taxis – it’s just not the same freedom I once had. Oscar always drove me around when he was alive – then, of course, I had to for all of those years – taking our kids everywhere. I love our kids – all three of them and all of their kids – my – I mean – Oscar’s and my grandkids. They are so beautiful. I really hope Tommy gets that job, and I hope Alice and her husband can work through whatever is ailing them. It’s a shame so many get divorced nowadays. But what can one expect in a world so full of life? Oscar and I had our ups and downs – that you know, but even today, in this day and age, I think we would of made it through together. There’s not been much divorce in our family, but it happens. Janice, my sweet grand daughter and her kin seem to pick the one’s who they shouldn’t have been with anyway. But doesn’t everyone nowadays?

Well, I’m getting tired and best head on home. I have to catch the bus, and it’s getting to be that time. Next week I promise to show up for a longer visit – provided you still let me. If not, then I guess I’ll see you regardless and won’t really have to come to St. Anthony’s. On my way out, I am going to see if I can find Father Joseph and give him my tithe – it’s not as much as it used to be – and after all of these years – I really need to know – what do you need this money for anyway? The church isn’t what it used to be, and most of the dioceses have to spend your entire tithe on their priests and their perversions. I guess your pulpit is being perverted – god help you – just like everyone needs to help themselves.

I love you, but I have to go – I am actually getting tired, and I better catch my bus. If I don’t leave now and see Father Joseph on the way out, I’ll miss my bus and probably fall asleep at the stop. Until next time.

Love,

Liz