"Top of the World Ma"

It's hard for me to think about how crazy and devastating the last month of my life has been. My Aunt passed on June 17th, after succumbing to her 8 year battle with cancer. She was in so much pain, and truly wasn't living a life. I'll miss her terribly, but I have some consolation in knowing that she is no longer in pain and finally at peace.

Then last week Pop died.

I've written about my paternal grandfather quite a bit--he's the subject of my first book as well. And his death was a complete shock. Yes, he was 91 but up until a month ago he was perfectly healthy. He was hospitalized for about a week--because he had stopped eating and fell while at my aunt's. But he seemed ok. He was even combative in the hospital--he punched out a nurse, and had to be sedated so he wouldn't pull out his IV's. Now I know that sounds extreme, but if you knew Pop you wouldn't be surprised. He is not the type of person who liked being told what to do and what he couldn't do.

They brought him home last Monday, and he finally seemed at ease. He settled down and slept--and never really came out of it. Almost like he knew this was his time, that this is how he wanted to go out--at home, with his family around him, no prolonged suffering or life in a wheelchair. And that's what happened. He slipped away on July 2nd.

The loss was tremendous. I got the call while in work, and I don't know how I was able to drive home. The next few days passed in a blur. People came and went, and we prepared for the funeral.

My grandmother asked me to give the Eulogy. I was honored she asked.
Here is the speech I gave on Monday:

 

On November 4^th 1922, a baby boy was born to Joseph and Mary Steinmetz of North Philadelphia. He would be their fourth boy and last baby. He was big, had bright blue eyes and the beginnings of a mischievous grin. He completed their family in every way. With three older brothers, he was always the butt of every joke, the tag-along play-mate, and the punching-bag. He constantly tried to win his brothers attention and respect. He was a show-off and excelled in almost everything he did. He played baseball in the spring, football in the fall, and boxed with his father every Saturday morning. He was a happy kid and his future seemed bright.

But life changed, as it did for many young boys, on December 7^th 1941.

Pearl Harbor. He was 19.

For five years, I’ve had the privilege of being the official autobiographer of Robert J. Steinmetz Sr. But for 28 years, I’ve had the bigger honor of being his granddaughter.

I’ve been asked a lot over the years about the beginnings of Pop’s book; what my process was, and how I was able to get him to tell me his stories. My answer has always been the same—I don’t really know, but it was always the same. I’d show up at my grandparents house in North Wales by late morning, I’d setup my tape recorder and writing materials, Pop would promptly offer me a shot of whiskey—which I never accepted but he always took for me—we’d sit down and Pop would start to talk. Usually for hours at a time, Pop would tell me story after story—going in chronological order according to a list he had from the War Department of everywhere he was in the Pacific. Usually by the end, he was hoarse and my fingers were numb from writing. It was truly astounding that he remembered so much. 70 years had gone by, but for him it could have been yesterday. He remembered everything. Names of his shipmates, and ships he saw, exact dates and events, what he was doing, specifics on what he welded and how bad the damage was, the emotions of the moment. Everything. He teared up quite a few times, recalling the deaths of friends or how hopeless the situation seemed to be. Other times he’d start a story by saying “Now I know I can tell you this because you’re older”—which I loved. I don’t think either of us wanted our “Book Dates” to end and he was always anxious and excited to set our next meeting. I got to know him in a way that every grandchild should.

I will remember those moments for the rest of my life.

Steiny was one of the youngest on his ship but he ran it like he was a seasoned veteran. He fought through 7 major invasions, saw the worst parts of humanity and war, but he never gave up. He never gave up on life and worked hard every day to get home. He was proud of all he did for his country. I asked him once if he had any regrets, he smiled and said “Regrets? Nah. I was born to beat the Japanese. That’s what these hands were made for.”

 

He found his manhood at sea, but his proudest moments he created in Philadelphia. These people sitting in front of me were his biggest achievement. To his children—Bee Bop Bobby and Jane, Lynny-Pie and Rick, Ween, Bake and Lisa—he was Daddy. No matter how tired he was from working long hours at PGW, he always made time to play with his children. He taught his sons the important things in life—that hardwork is paramount, and the only way to do something is to do it right the first time—and showered his daughters with affection and love. To his grandchildren—Carolina Moon, Wabe, Fire Engine Megan and Bob, Tweetybird, Crackers, Kitty-Cat Katie, AC Moore Lizzy, PeeWee, Cole Cole, Freihofer and his Prize Maggie Jane—he was Pop Pop. He had a special relationship with each and every one of us. He played games, pulled practical jokes, and gave us memories to last a lifetime. He sat us on his lap at 3 and let us drive his car, popped a cigars in my mouth at 5 and told me to take a puff, and gave me my first drink of beer at 8.

And to his wife Marion. His Mag. The love of his life. His anchor. The air he breathed. He told me he fell in love with her the moment he saw her—at the PGW Christmas Party. He chased her for weeks until she finally went on a date with him. Within 3 months, he had bought a ring. He spent the next 61 years at her side, and I’m pretty sure he fell more in love with her every day. The way he looked at her when she walked in a room always gave me chills. He loved you Mom-Mom. He spent his life loving you and still does.

What else can I say about Bob Steinmetz? He liked his whiskey straight and his beer cold. He put butter on everything and loved his sweets. He loved Casablanca and Yankee Doodle Dandy. He had movie star good-looks. He had a wicked sense of humor and a hearty laugh that I can still hear in my head. He was known to take 2 hour long baths because he loved it so much. He worked hard, but played harder—his antics are that of legend. He was a die-hard Philadelphia sports fan—especially the Phillies and Eagles, even when they were awful. He played baseball until he was 75. He loved going to the VFW. There was nothing he didn’t know how to fix. He loved when we all got together for holidays and never wanted the party to end—“Hey what you leavin’ for! We just started” he’d say. He was stubborn and could be pig-headed, but what German isn’t? He loved life and lived every second to its fullest. A moment was never wasted.

He was everything to us.

Thank you for the memories Pop. Thank you for your love and being here for 91 wonderful years. We love you.

“Top of the World Ma!”

My heart grieves for both Aunt Ann and Pop. I'm not sure I will ever be the same. But I think I'm stronger having gone through this back to back. It's made me a different person. It's made me appreciate my family more and try and live my life to the fullest--as they both had done.

Trying

I've been trying to write this post for a week now. Have started, stopped, deleted everything, thought really hard, broke down and cried, screamed, and tried to write again. I guess I'm a little afraid to put the words out there quite yet. That writing them down will make it more real and that this all just isn't some awful dream. And maybe I've fooled myself into thinking that, because it still doesn't seem real.

That she's not gone.

But I know I have to get it out. I have to write about her, even if its hard.

On Tuesday, June 17th heaven gained another angel. My aunt Ann succumbed to her 8 year battle with cancer. She fought hard--the doctors gave her a year after her first diagnosis--and she beat it for so long. We all believed and had high hopes--she always got better, always. But this time her body could take no more. She's finally at peace and feels no more pain. My uncle called us in time to say goodbye and I was able to kiss her and smooth her hair across her face, take one last smell of her to remember her perfume, hold her hand, and whisper in her ear to wait for me. She looked beautiful.

It was one of the most painful yet beautiful moments of my life. One I will never forget.

I think of her everyday. Wish I could talk to her everyday. I'm  worried she's lonely without us,  and wonder if she's still hovering around. Sometimes, I pray that she is. It gives me a little comfort that I'm not alone.

I just loved her so much. And I don't think this hole in my heart will ever be filled.

I'm uncomfortable with one word, that my mother uttered the other night and I felt the pain all over again. I literally told my mom "Please don't use that word." The word is the reality, but I refuse to use it. Say anything else. Say "Passed on." Or "Gone to a better place." Anything but that one ugly word that sends my heart spiraling. Again, words have power to me. Saying it makes it more real.

I hate it.

And I miss her.

Please pray for me and my family.
Especially Ann Ford.

Flags of My Grandfather

February 23, 1945
Iwo Jima

It had been hours since our day started, and hours still probably lay ahead. The work was unending and exhausting. --I was pulled in every direction, barely had time to turn off my torch before the next disaster struck. In fact, my welding torch was blistered into my hand, after hours of holding it steady and never putting it down. It was now part of my hand.

But I walked the gangway between a destroyer and the Gear, with the legs of a 90-year old man. I had a few minutes reprieve--a mandate reprieve from the Captain-- to grab some grub and take a breath. Then it was right back to it. Just fifteen minutes, I thought as my feet landed back on the Gear's deck. I grabbed the sandwich handed to me by the Mess Crew, who had set up a make-shift kitchen on deck and were giving sandwiches and hot coffee to the whole crew. Most took the food and dropped to their knees right where they stood--everyone was feeling the strains of the day. I walked back to the guardrail of the Gear and sat up against it; looking at the island, for the first time in hours, looming ahead.

To the puffs of smoke, ash and cinder that enveloped the beaches.

The work was hard and backbreaking, but in that moment I was relieve to be sitting where I was and not on the hazardous beaches of Iwo Jima.


We arrived first to Iwo, towing a broken-down destroyer of Marines. It was hours before the fleet showed up, and we were already hard at work getting the hunk-of-shit we hauled up and moving. We were invading, everyone knew it. The Marines surrounding me were set to storm the beaches at a moments command, As I moved among them, I saw the looks on their faces--the adrenaline building, the excitement of a major battle, the fear as they looked towards Iwo. I could see the gears turning in their brains, that they knew death, victory or both lay ahead for each of them and they were powerless against it. That their lives were no longer their own, but forfeit to a bigger cause. To freedom and all they left at home. Young boys, turned into machines of war, for the sake and love of their country.

It almost made me angry.

I had to looks away from them and concentrate on the metal and mechanical issues that sit in front of me. Looking back, staring too long only made the guilt worse. That I may be the rat of the Naval fleet, but they were the pigs sent to slaughter..

I blocked out the chaos and worked. Just kept working.

Hours later, the fleet arrived and order were given.

"Give 'em hell! Fire every round you got. Kill every last one of those Jap scum! Make them remember this day! Make them regret ever fuckin' with America! This is what we've trained for. We are Marines!" I heard a Commander scream.

"HOORAH" was the overwhelming response. Arms raised in salute, boots stomps and screams of excitement echoes. The energy was contagious and the fear seemed to drift away. Then the chaos of movement started towards the landing crafts and over the side of ship. I stood up from what I was doing and watched them go over the side and on to their destinies; whatever they may be. I said a silent prayer as I watched the last man leave.

The entire fleet was doing the same.

The invasion began, as I stood from afar watching the whole thing. The landing crafts docked and the Marines jumped into the ocean and waded ashore. At least they tried. Bullets rained down on them from the waiting enemy. The tide turned red with blood, and the wind hissed with the sound of sailing bullets. Heads jerked and arms flailed as the bullets found homes. They dropped beneath the raising waters, never to stand back up.

It was a massacre. The screams were almost unbearable.

Still they raged on and fought their way to the beach; the ones who survived the first onslaught. Most dropped to their bellies and army-crawled to the dunes and safety. A few stagnant breaths was all they could take before they were ordered to push forward and into enemy territory. Tommy-guns and heavy artillery were set up, and let lose on the enemy. Grenades, heavy rounds and fire bombs exploded on every inch of the beach, turning up the ashy landscape and covering the island in a huge haze of smoke. And once it started, there was no stopping. There was no distinguishing where the rounds were coming from and whose side was where. It was complete chaos.

And I stood on a broken destroyer, powerless to it all. Looking out at the destruction and death around me, I doubted our victory. I doubted everything.  

How can we win this? How?


And now I sat on the Gear, waiting for what came next. For the surrender? For the victory? Hours had passed and the battle seemed to have slowed. But still we had no way of knowing which way it all went. Our radio was silenced during the battle, so we just had to wait for a sign. I choked down my sandwich--it scrapped against my throat like sandpaper and hit my stomach like a ton of bricks. I put my head between my knees and closed my eyes; I needed to pretend I was somewhere else, somewhere safe and away from all this.

Then I heard the roar of cheers.

And the blaring of ship horns.

My head snapped up and I jumped to my feet. Everyone else had done the same and were darting to the other side of the Gear. I pushed my way to the front and saw it. I saw the flag. The American flag, with its blue and white stripes and stars flapping in the wind, being raised on the beach of Iwo Jima by Marines. And the waiting fleet reacted with cheers and "HOORAH".

It was the sign I needed.

"We're going to win this war," I said aloud.

And it was the first time I knew it.

*This is a story my grandfather recently told me, that is not included in my book. I thought it was appropriate given the holiday. Hug a veteran this weekend; thank them for their service*

*Click Here for a copy of my book*

Trolling the Internet for Love Advice

Today I was trolling the internets, as I do in most of my spare time at work, and I found this little diddy. I thought I'd share, as it seemed to speak to me directly

15 Hard-Won Lessons You Can Only Learn From a Break-up

1. "A relationship involves two people. I used to put all the responsibility on myself whenever something would go wrong. When her actions would hurt me, I'd think about myself and what I could have done better. In the end, I stayed in that relationship way too long."
2. "I learned to always keep my money separate and to have a backup plan."
3. "Never settle. Love is a verb. People are who they are. Don't expect them to change."
4. "Your happiness and validation come from within. Relying on one person in order to feel happy is unhealthy for both parties involved."
5. "I learned to cultivate me -- my interests, my hobbies -- and let the hobbies and interests I once shared with my ex fall to the wayside. I learned my own strength."
6. "I learned that loving someone and loving the idea of being with someone are two very different things."
7. "It's a big ocean with many fish. You'll find someone else. The heart is resilient."
8. "Once you've broken up, cut all ties with that person. Delete them from Facebook, delete their phone number and send their email and text to a spam folder. Stay away from them and you'll move on quicker."
9. "Always read the signs and be aware of the red flags. They are there flashing and waving if you just pay attention."
10. "I am worth more than what I accepted from the person I loved. I can make myself happy."
11. "Don't even think about falling in love again if your self-esteem is zapped post-split. Heal and love yourself first, then look for love again."
12. "Being unattached is way better than being in an unhappy or unfulfilling relationship."
13. "Get your stuff before you break up."
14. "Your wellness is more important than the relationship."
15. "The pain does go away even though it seems so hard to believe in the beginning."

The link is here if you want to read the whole thing.

And for all you out there in the blog-osphere who are slightly worried about me after my last few posts, my heart is on the mend. I've realized that the issue in our relationship and its demise was him, not me. I did everything right in that relationship and he is looking for a perfection that he will never get. I've come to realize he thinks he is better than me and our relationship was sub-par to his standards. I deserve more. And he will never be satisfied with what is right in front of him, or be happy for that matter.

But me, on the other hand, I will be happy. And I'm getting there.

Without him.

It Still Hurts

I wish it didn't.
Wish and pray with all my heart
That I was made of stronger stuff
And could bounce back like rubber.
But I feel so lost and alone.

The memories are what keep me crying.

Remembering the things we did and planned.
Your sneaky grin as you walked by
After you lightly hit my butt.
The butterflies that filled me when we kissed.
Laying next to you and how you pulled me in.
How you always seemed to know what I was thinking
Before I said a word; knew every whim or need.
Playing boardgames or reading in bed.
Planning a future we both seemed to want.

The first time I wanted us to last forever.

But you say it wasn't real.
That you were pretending and can't anymore.
That you're done with this "limbo" and
Have no room for me in your life.
That I'm not worthy of your time and
"There's not easy way to do this."
That I'm not important anymore and
You want your stuff back.

But for me it was so real.

My feelings can't go away overnight.
I can't just pretend the last few months didn't happen
And that it meant nothing to me.
I can't smile and pretend I've moved on when
Everyday I hope you'll call and take it back.
That I think about you all the time.

I hate it.

I wish this would go away and
I could feel whole again.
That my heart is back in my chest
Instead of torn to pieces and thrown away.
I was happy and unaware of any of your feelings
And I guess that's what hurts the most.
That I didn't see this coming.

I miss you.
And I wish I didn't.

On The Eve of My Birth: Part Tres

I've done this for the past 2 years--written a blog entry right before my impending birthday. Usually it's a post about what I've learned from the last year and what I hope to gain in the following. It's always been fun for me to look back at where I was the year before and the hopes I had for myself.

I'll admit, last year came in on a high. My book had just been released, I was in a relationship with a guy who I was crazy about, working for a company I really liked, and I was excited for the birth of my first niece/nephew.

2013 seemed to be my year.

And for the most part it was. I got accolades on my first novel--voted to Kirkus Reviews Best of 2013 List--my niece Maggie was born and she brought light and love to all our lives. I started my next novel and am really excited about it. I also had my heart broken by the same guy I was crazy about. Not once but multiple times--every 2 weeks to be exact when he'd go on a weekend bender and "forget about me." But I took a chance on new love right at the end of the year, and for the first time I thought "this is my person."

But 2014, thus far, sucks ass.

• I've gotten very complacent with my job and don't feel the same way about it anymore.
• My "new love" turned out to be a sham. Of which I am still reeling--I don't think you realize how much you miss someone when they stop calling, even if they've hurt you beyond measure.
• My aunt has been given a fatal diagnosis and she has 4 months to live.
• I've given in to my mother's request and will be going back on medication for anxiety--a huge failure in my book.

I might be fixating on the awful things at the moment, but I'm truly consumed by it. Yes, some good things have happened this year--1 of which is I will be working with Larry Kane's (the Philadelphia Beatles guru) editor for my next book, which is HUGE for me and my sister is pregnant with her second child--but right now I can't see beyond the hurt in my heart to be excited for it.

I usually look forward to my birthday and this year I'm just not. I almost don't want the reminder of another year going by--another wasted year of more heartbreak and tragedy. Honestly, I'd rather sleep through the whole day and pretend it never happened.

So dreams for the next year?

I don't have any at the moment. All I want is to get through this next year with my wits about me and not completely crumble again. Which let's be honest, I know will happen and that reality scares me. I just wish things could be easier and my life would fall into place, instead of this constant upheaval every few months. Which YES, I get that's part of life and everyone goes through it. I guess I feel like I've had my fill for awhile.

Hopefully I'll look back at this post next year with a smile--because things were so bad but got better.

I guess I can hope....

Ripping off the Band-Aid

I've been contemplating for a few days whether or not to blog about what's been going on the last week or so. I use this blog a lot to vent about things going on and my life in general, and usually it's not in the greatest of taste and it's blunt. Not to say that I don't like that about myself because I do--and I don't really intend on changing that about my personality. But I'm in a numb state of devastation and bewilderment, and my feelings are really very raw at the moment.

That being said, I feel like I need some clarity and introspective re-evaluating of my life at the moment. That recent events have made me question a lot about myself and decisions I make.

The first would be with my personal life and relationship status.

It always comes back to this, doesn't it?

I was (and writing WAS still kind of stings) dating someone for about 4 months. I was happy. Unbelievably, completely, stupidly happy with him. It was sort of the first mature relationship I've been in ever. An adult relationship where I wasn't the sole stable one--he had his own house, a great career, ambitions and seemed to be sane. Everything sort of happened fast--within a month I had met his family, was being invited to family events, and spending a lot of time together. It also got to the point that he asked me if things got serious, would I consider moving to NYC with him--he works in NYC, but put his house up for sale in the hopes of moving there in the very near future. He also would be starting grad school in May, which would require him to be in NYC more--because he was going to NYU. And because I was so deliriously happy, I seriously started to consider it. Like to the point that I was imagining myself there and even went apartment-hunting with him. I really got involved with many aspects of his life, to the point that I feel like I was living his life and not my own anymore. Everything kind of became about him and his needs and schedule--which at the time I was okay with. I was happy just to be with him.

But I won't lie, I started to get kind of resentful of it. I started to realize he didn't seem too interested in things I had going on, and that conversations were always being switched back to him. Like we were out to dinner 3 weeks ago and I started a conversation about something, and it instantly went back to him and the amount of money he was paying out that month. I was annoyed and I know he saw it--I started looking out the window a lot, suddenly got very quiet and mentally decided to get really drunk that night just to get thru it.

Then within a week, everything crashed down and suddenly he "didn't have time" for me anymore. Granted, his schedule was getting crazy (as far as I know) but it doesn't take much to answer a phone call or shoot someone a text. It all led up him canceling plans on me twice in one week, not seeing me at all that weekend and then breaking up with me last Monday.

I was devastated. Beyond. And just confused--how can you go from wanting me like crazy to "my life's changed, I've changed and I don't want a long term commitment anymore." I'm not going to rehash the nitty gritty of it because I don't feel like reliving it again. Basically, he used me. He needed someone to fill a role for this (as he called it) "limbo period" between him living in PA and moving to NYC. That he thought he wanted a relationship, convinced himself  and me as much, but realized he didn't anymore--at my expense. So I filled his selfish needs and now he was done with me--even though he will probably remain in PA for quite sometime as his house hasn't sold yet and probably won't for awhile (a reality I don't think has hit him yet.)

Naturally, I was stupid and begged and pleaded to make it work. I sent him this massive e-mail describing our relationship and what I loved about him. Really making a complete fool of myself. He led me to believe he wanted to make things work, then ripped the rug from under me again. I've never felt so....violated and wronged in my life. And TRUST ME I've been through bad break-ups. But he really did me dirty and I'm still feeling the affects of it.

The worse part about is that I still care about him and wish things could be different. I threw some pretty nasty descriptions at him--including "Complete heartless dick" "Selfish Prick" "Cold" "inhuman" "Douchebag"--which I kind of regret now because I stooped to his level. I should have just cut off contact and I wish I had. But I was upset and....desperate. And I wanted him to feel and ounce of the pain he caused me.

I'm hurt. Very hurt. My self esteem is shattered. And I still think about him and want to cry. The worst part about it is that I miss him. More than anything, I miss him and what we used to have. Last night I packed up his stuff for him to come get--including the key to his house--and I waited for him to come. I guess to catch one last glimpse. I don't know why, I just felt like I needed to see him. Naturally he never showed. So I'll have to go through this song and dance all over again.

I am still incredibly hurt but I'm trying to move on--which is hard when everything I see reminds me of him and I just want to call him and tell him. Being angry helps to an extent but I need to start looking at this as a lesson learned. If I can't be a priority for someone, why should I waste my time? I should listen to the little voice in my head more often, especially if it's shooting off red flags, which was happening in the beginning--like the fact that he wanted to sleep with me after our first date, was clingy to an extent in the beginning, and was lonely. That I can't let myself get so absorbed in someone I date's life that I lose my own. That I deserve better.

It also kind of showed me that I need to stop looking for "Mr. Right". Actually, obsessing about it. I need to take it easy for awhile and let myself heal from this latest blow to my heart. I don't know how faithful I will be to it, but I want to at least try and stay single for a bit.

Hate that it still hurts so much. Wish there was a turnoff switch for feelings and love.

On top of all of this (and during the same week this all went down) my aunt got some pretty devastating news about her cancer. It's spread into her liver and rectum. And because of her extensive past, there isn't much they can do. Even if there was, I don't think my aunt would pursue any of it. She's given up--she's fought long and hard, but she wants to enjoy the time she has left. She wants to die.

And it's a hard truth to face, as people who love and care about her so much. I wish she could go on fighting. That maybe, as my mother has been saying the last few days, the doctor has a magic solution and it will see her through this. That she will see her children get married and become a grandmother--which I know she wanted above anything else. That she would stay with us.

Sorry, I'm getting emotional and can't really talk about it more.

It's just another hard truth to face. And I guess I want to spend as much time with her as I can. Try and make things easier for her and the rest of the family. I feel guilty because I was so consumed with the demise of my relationship, that my emotions kind of took over when we got this news. The two overlapped in one week, and the pain my family was feeling turned into anxiety about me. When I should have been focusing on my aunt and family, I was focused on my own pain. I cannot think of myself--or even him--anymore. There are more important things in life, and it took this to make me realize it.

I'm hoping this week is better. That all of this will settle in a bit and we can all get back to semi-normal lives. Things have changed so drastically in one week, it's hard to believe.

But I guess that's life.