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The Last Time I Saw Him

Today at Panera, I was hit with vertigo just after ordering my tomato soup. This memory almost knocked me off my feet. The room started to swirl, and I knew I had to go home and write about the last time I saw my father.

“Hi, I’m in town. I’d like to stop by. Can I bring you anything?”

“Sure, bring me some soup. From that place that has good soup… uhh… I can’t remember the name.”

“Panera?- sure, I’ll bring you soup from Panera.”

When I got to his house slightly after dark, in the late chilly fall of upstate NY, I found the front door ajar; he was sitting on a wooden chair in the middle of the ramshackle living room. The wood stove in the corner had a fire, and his dog, Jasmin, was beside him.

I wondered aimlessly how he lit that fire when he could hardly walk? Is it safely burning when he falls asleep every couple of minutes?

“Amber, it’s sure good to see you,” he said as I sat on the old burgundy couch. I looked around me. This house and this man had changed so much.

The man I remember from childhood commanded the room, had the kindest, soulful eyes, and could flawlessly read my emotions. He was generous to a fault and yet would disappear from my life for years at a time.

Ironically enough, the last time I saw him was a couple years earlier at Panera. He met my two-year-old son and nodded off throughout dinner.

This time, I came alone.

The house that, once so full of life, was now in a disarray of old furniture and dirty dishes. I stayed for a max of 30 minutes.

I watched this gentle giant share his Panera sandwich with his beloved dog and nod off while trying to eat soup himself. I tried to talk to him, but he didn’t seem to hear or see me.

I ate my soup, said goodbye, and carefully tried to close the door. It didn’t latch behind me. I closed the gate so Jasmin couldn’t get out and with that closed off my heart from hurting a little more.

Bob & me in 1979

Featured

Three Year Gap

Wow- I haven’t written anything to post in three years. But 2024 is my year to write for myself!

It’s the beginning of a new year, and as I sat down to create goals for myself, I committed to writing 10 minutes a day for 75 days.

So far I’ve:

  • Downloaded a free trial to Scrivener
  • Created two new projects with character ideas for fiction
  • Done a lot of family research to help support one of my ideas for
  • Started to journal every day on Scrivener

It feels great to put my ideas on the computer screen. Making a journal has helped me express my feelings to myself instead of bothering someone else with texts or complaints.

So far, I like this commitment of 10 minutes a day- it’s doable and forces me to sit down and focus- 10 minutes often turns into 20, which turns into 60 and hopefully will help me reach my writing goals!

Me in Dec 2023

Father Farnsworth and Grenville Christian College Investigation: Personal Experiences, No Response was a Response

———- Forwarded message ———

Date: Sat, Sep 15, 2007 at 10:46 PM
Subject: Father Farnsworth
To: <gbruce@ontario.anglican.ca>

Dear Bishop Bruce,

I am writing to you in regard to Father Farnsworth and Grenville
Christian College. I have become aware that you are investigating him
and would like to share some of my personal experiences with both Mr.
Farnsworth and the school.  I was a student from 1991 – 1995. I came
to Grenville in grade seven and left after grade ten. I was from a
rural town in upstate New York, and my parents felt that boarding
school would give me a well rounded Christian education and broader
world view.
        There are several experiences that come to mind, however the one that
was the most troubling to me also dealt the most directly with Mr.
Farnsworth. On the day of the incident a good amount of the student
body was up at 5AM or before waiting for a bus to be taken on a ski
trip. My best friend had her head on my shoulder, resting while we
waited. Mr. Farnsworth came up to us, and told us that our
“relationship” was sick and walked away.  I remember the disgusted
look on his face when he said this as well as my feeling of confusion
and disbelief.  We were promptly told by a female staff member that we
were not allowed to ski together during that trip or talk to each
other. I was not allowed to call my mother from the ski lodge and was
still made to go skiing even though I had asked if I could stay
behind. Within the next day or so I had many meetings with different
staff members and was made to sit with my friend at the “head” table
with Mr. Farnsworth and his wife to discuss our relationship. When my
friend had trouble responding to a question (English was not her first
language) Mr. Farnsworth said she was being disrespectful, made her
leave the table, and forbade us from speaking to each other for at
least six weeks. She was no longer allowed to come to my home for
holidays. Our friendship never recovered, we were made to feel ashamed
for being dear childhood friends. Mr. Farnsworth sited no wrong doing,
however he felt compelled to call my parents to explain his actions.
        During the time I was at Grenville I was told that I was not normal
for having mostly Asian friends and that I shouldn’t talk to the
students from Hong Kong, Taiwan or Japan any more. I remember being
told that my underwear were not proper and having them confiscated
until my parents could take them back home. I was put on “Discipline”
for having a crush on an older boy. The staff took the time to paste
together a note that I had torn apart. While on D, I was required to
scrub the kitchen floor with a toothbrush, be totally isolated while
sleeping and eating, I was not required to go to school during those
three days – I was twelve. I remember feeling so humiliated.
        For years, I have wondered about a way that I could lay these
experiences to rest. I knew that confronting Mr. Farnsworth would
probably only cause me more pain as I guessed that he would never own
up to his wrong doing.  I believe that through your investigation
there is finally restitution that can be paid by Mr. Farnsworth for
all the pain he caused, for all the young people that now have life
long trauma. He should not be allowed to be in a position of any type
of authority any longer.

If you should need any further information please feel free to contact me.

Sincerely,

Me

Almost a Year

Dear Grandma,

I miss you. Your perfume is fading from your things. I’ve been wearing your sweater. I got my hair done yesterday. I wish I could show you. I think you’d love it… but then again you’ve always loved the way I look no matter what. It’s coming up on a year since I saw you (healthy) last. I stayed away because I wanted to protect you from covid…. You weren’t supposed to go so soon. I want to send you flowers and chocolate for Valentine’s Day.

Love,

Amber

No Tears

Dear Grandma,

Yesterday I didn’t cry. It was the first day since November 14, 2020 that I didn’t break down at the harsh reality that you’re really gone. I went about my business, cleaning getting ready for the holiday. I’m sure I thought about you but I didn’t cry. Then today, I heard that the CDC is recommending 75 and up should be next in line for the COVID vaccine. Why couldn’t have come just two months earlier? Today, Gram, I can’t stop crying.

Love, Amber

Losing Grandma


I want to talk about my Gram and grief in the time of Covid. So many of us around the world are dealing with similar losses. I read story after story about families caught in the wildfire of the virus. No-one really thinks it can happen in their family until it does.

I got a text from my mom that said, “everyone in grandma’s house has a cold.” Way down deep in my belly, I felt like something was wrong. Fast forward a week, and I was flying in the midst of the pandemic to upstate NY from Florida so I could stand outside her bedroom window and tell her that I loved her. It happened so fast that I can still hardly believe it’s true.

When I saw her, she looked uncomfortable and could hardly move her head, so I walked around to another window and jumped up and down waving, and smiling. I could barely hear her say, “I love you darlin.” Four days later, I came back by, and she was peacefully resting, wrapped in a soft velvety-purple blanket. I was glad to see her at peace, having been cared for by hospice… the next day between, flights I got the call that she was gone. My dear sweet 91-year-old grandma, gone.

Let’s back up to a week before. I paced back and forth for days trying to brainstorm solutions to help grandma get better. I pleaded with my mom to take her to the hospital only to find out that grandma made her daughters promise that they wouldn’t take her, that she wanted to be home in her own bed. It took me days to come to terms with the fact that she was in her sound mind, and it was ultimately her choice. In hindsight, I’m glad she stayed home.

There are some days that I wake up crying. You’d think that I’d be able to understand that a 91-year-old woman lived a good long life, but I still feel robbed. I spent months and months staying away from her to protect her, only for her to fall ill in the end anyway. I wanted more time with her. Sometimes I get angry at myself for not going in to hug her when I had the chance.

Ribbon Candy

Dear Grandma,

Last week someone reminded me that you liked ribbon candy at Christmastime. I searched on the internet and found that a store near me carried the candy. It took me a few days but I went to pick some up today only to find out that they were sold out and weren’t restocking this year. I sat in the parking lot and cried over candy. Just like you, it was gone and not coming back.

Love,

Amber