A miracle:
My neighbor has unsecured, high-speed wireless! His name is Matt. I've been "borrowing" his internet services for the last day and a half. You can't beat free!
If he catches on to me, the school across the street has unsecured wireless also...and I thought I was going to have to pay to get internet back on my computer! ;)
Monday, May 30, 2005
Sunday, May 29, 2005
My Aunt Nanee passed away today at 9am. She was 94. I was able to spend a good amount of time with her last Christmas break. We watched television together. She talked with me about her favorite memories and her closest friends. I helped her put a photo album together. She told me she loved me and would miss me when I left for school.
That was the last time I saw her completely conscious and spunky. That's the Nanee I'm going to miss.
I saw her for the last time two days ago. When I walked into her room, I was shocked to the very core. She was sitting in a wheel chair, slumped over. She had an oxygen mask strapped to her nose. She was shaking. She couldn't open her eyes. I totally lost it. I went into the bathroom to morn the strong, lucid woman I left last Christmas break. When I returned to her room I held her hand, and tried to give her comfort. When I left her, I felt empty. I felt like Nanee was already gone.
When my mom told me she passed away this morning, I felt sad but relieved that she wouldn't have to suffer anymore. She wouldn't have to spend one more minute slumped in her chair shouting the only word she could still say, "ouch!"
I'm going to miss you Nanee. You always stuck up for yourself. You never let anyone walk all over you. You enjoyed your life despite all of your own losses and heart aches. I love you.
That was the last time I saw her completely conscious and spunky. That's the Nanee I'm going to miss.
I saw her for the last time two days ago. When I walked into her room, I was shocked to the very core. She was sitting in a wheel chair, slumped over. She had an oxygen mask strapped to her nose. She was shaking. She couldn't open her eyes. I totally lost it. I went into the bathroom to morn the strong, lucid woman I left last Christmas break. When I returned to her room I held her hand, and tried to give her comfort. When I left her, I felt empty. I felt like Nanee was already gone.
When my mom told me she passed away this morning, I felt sad but relieved that she wouldn't have to suffer anymore. She wouldn't have to spend one more minute slumped in her chair shouting the only word she could still say, "ouch!"
I'm going to miss you Nanee. You always stuck up for yourself. You never let anyone walk all over you. You enjoyed your life despite all of your own losses and heart aches. I love you.
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