Did it - got up this morning, against everything my body was telling me, and ran 3 miles. 24:50 - again, NOTHING to be that proud of - but I'm trying to get to a 24:00 3 miles, and then move on to 4 miles. I know that if I wanted, I could do 24:00/3 miles....I have done it plenty of times. But what I am going for is to do it and have it be easy.
So before that, I had a little breakfast, which was a good idea. Now going to pack for Providence, head into work, and get on the road around 10:00am!
Friday, January 30, 2009
Thursday, January 29, 2009
I'm back!
Three miles - 24:48. Not exactly breaking any speed records - but it wasn't that hard and felt great to get back into the swing of things!
This weather is great...FOR ME TO POOP ON!!!
Have no fear, I'm not relapsing back into my Triumph the Insult Comic Dog obsession. I was just thinking how much more I love running outside, but in the last couple of years, I just haven't gotten the same thrill out of running in the cold as I used to. Maybe I need to just suck it up and do it, and I'll get back into it - but I've become much more of a warm weather person (and I've never really been much of a cold weather person anyway).
So this weekend, I'm headed to PVD. I'm a member of the Diocesan Legate Committee...who knows what that is? (Crickets) Okay then I'll explain. The Diocesan Legate is an Archbishop who essentially serves as the representative of the Armenian Church to the United States government. His name is Archbishop Vicken Aykazian. He also has been elected as president of the National Council of Churches. His position is a fascinating one and really has given me insight on how religion and politics co-exist in this country. We have a relatively small, but efficient, committee. I have been visiting parishes with Archbishop Vicken to learn about their ecumenical activities and to exchange ideas with them on how they can become more relevant to their local communities as a church and to improve relationships. It's interesting, fun, and I get to reconnect with people I know and meet new people.
So I'm leaving for RI tomorrow and coming back Sunday. Today I am going to get right back on the treadmill as soon as I get home from work! I'm going to finish laundry and get a good night's sleep. Today is the first day where I have felt physically normal since Medz Mom passed. A couple of good night's sleep is all it took. Luckily, work seems to be cooperating (how do I get so lucky) and my approaching of attacking the most annoying problems first seems to be yielding some benefits.
Now just going to work out, pack, and get some sleep - big weekend coming up!
So this weekend, I'm headed to PVD. I'm a member of the Diocesan Legate Committee...who knows what that is? (Crickets) Okay then I'll explain. The Diocesan Legate is an Archbishop who essentially serves as the representative of the Armenian Church to the United States government. His name is Archbishop Vicken Aykazian. He also has been elected as president of the National Council of Churches. His position is a fascinating one and really has given me insight on how religion and politics co-exist in this country. We have a relatively small, but efficient, committee. I have been visiting parishes with Archbishop Vicken to learn about their ecumenical activities and to exchange ideas with them on how they can become more relevant to their local communities as a church and to improve relationships. It's interesting, fun, and I get to reconnect with people I know and meet new people.
So I'm leaving for RI tomorrow and coming back Sunday. Today I am going to get right back on the treadmill as soon as I get home from work! I'm going to finish laundry and get a good night's sleep. Today is the first day where I have felt physically normal since Medz Mom passed. A couple of good night's sleep is all it took. Luckily, work seems to be cooperating (how do I get so lucky) and my approaching of attacking the most annoying problems first seems to be yielding some benefits.
Now just going to work out, pack, and get some sleep - big weekend coming up!
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Lessons...
So what did I learn from all of this?
Well, where to begin. First off, I learned the value of not having regrets. This is not to say that sometimes I don't wish I had spent more time with my grandmother, or that I had asked her more questions about her childhood. But all in all, I feel like she knew how I felt about her, and I know that she died in no pain. I have questions, and some things I would have done differently, but no deep hurtful regrets that I am going to be hanging on to for a long time.
The mourning process is an amazing one - and it's fascinating how we process the loss of a loved one. The beginning of the process was somewhat of a shock, and I had to comprehend things I had never seen before. Some very big things happened this week, and in comparison to them, I realize how small the things are that upset us on a daily basis. I feel like I had the chance this last week and a half to really wrestle with my emotions. I blocked the rest of the world out, and just spent time with myself - immersing myself in my grief, in my questions, and in my own emotions. That is not to say that now I know everything there is to know about life - but at least I got to deal with the immediate aftermath of Medz Mom's passing on my own, and face it head on. I'm not as afraid of death as I was before - perhaps a little more curious now, and fascinated by it. But not afraid.
My faith has been reinforced. My faith has been something I have struggled with over the past 5 years or so. After witnessing these recent events, I have seen evidence and have reminders that truly there is something to all this. Medz Mom, in her death, was my teacher and reminded me that this is not all just a big story - that a good life, led with virtue and honor, will lead to peace.
I have found a love for many new things. My grandmother used to recite poetry at Armenian events - and so I thought to myself - why can't I do that? She was my Armenian teacher in life, why shouldn't I let her teach me after she left this earth? So I am going to explore it a bit, and really take it on as a hobby. On the way home from Aunt Maria's on Sunday, Sabrina learned the whole first half of the Lord's Prayer in Armenian. As proud as I was of her, I couldn't help but suspect that maybe she was getting a little help from Medz Mom :)
Most of all - I gained a new appreciation for my grandmother and her life story. She came her as a 27 year old girl, at the invitation of her brother. She left everything - and married a man she had known for 2 weeks, started a family, learned a new language - and did it with a smile. Complete bad ass!! She was an independent woman, yet still managed to maintain traditions that she found important - raising a family, being a wife, going to church. I am humbled by my grandmother's adventure, by her spirit, by the youth that never went away, and by her brilliance. The tribute we gave her, and the legacy she left behind are both going to motivate me to redirect some of my energies. I'm not sure about every detail - but 2009 is going to be a different year. I started off on a pretty good note - and then Medz Mom decided to give me a little bit of a kick to remind me...To remind me of where I come from, what possibilities there are in life, and what is important....
By no means is this the last time I will write about my grandmother, just as it is not the last time I will remember her. But now for 40 days, I'll meditate on her, on her life, her death, and her lessons. And I will smile thinking of all that she taught me and all that she did for me, and be thankful to have experienced life being the grandson of such a beautiful woman.
Well, where to begin. First off, I learned the value of not having regrets. This is not to say that sometimes I don't wish I had spent more time with my grandmother, or that I had asked her more questions about her childhood. But all in all, I feel like she knew how I felt about her, and I know that she died in no pain. I have questions, and some things I would have done differently, but no deep hurtful regrets that I am going to be hanging on to for a long time.
The mourning process is an amazing one - and it's fascinating how we process the loss of a loved one. The beginning of the process was somewhat of a shock, and I had to comprehend things I had never seen before. Some very big things happened this week, and in comparison to them, I realize how small the things are that upset us on a daily basis. I feel like I had the chance this last week and a half to really wrestle with my emotions. I blocked the rest of the world out, and just spent time with myself - immersing myself in my grief, in my questions, and in my own emotions. That is not to say that now I know everything there is to know about life - but at least I got to deal with the immediate aftermath of Medz Mom's passing on my own, and face it head on. I'm not as afraid of death as I was before - perhaps a little more curious now, and fascinated by it. But not afraid.
My faith has been reinforced. My faith has been something I have struggled with over the past 5 years or so. After witnessing these recent events, I have seen evidence and have reminders that truly there is something to all this. Medz Mom, in her death, was my teacher and reminded me that this is not all just a big story - that a good life, led with virtue and honor, will lead to peace.
I have found a love for many new things. My grandmother used to recite poetry at Armenian events - and so I thought to myself - why can't I do that? She was my Armenian teacher in life, why shouldn't I let her teach me after she left this earth? So I am going to explore it a bit, and really take it on as a hobby. On the way home from Aunt Maria's on Sunday, Sabrina learned the whole first half of the Lord's Prayer in Armenian. As proud as I was of her, I couldn't help but suspect that maybe she was getting a little help from Medz Mom :)
Most of all - I gained a new appreciation for my grandmother and her life story. She came her as a 27 year old girl, at the invitation of her brother. She left everything - and married a man she had known for 2 weeks, started a family, learned a new language - and did it with a smile. Complete bad ass!! She was an independent woman, yet still managed to maintain traditions that she found important - raising a family, being a wife, going to church. I am humbled by my grandmother's adventure, by her spirit, by the youth that never went away, and by her brilliance. The tribute we gave her, and the legacy she left behind are both going to motivate me to redirect some of my energies. I'm not sure about every detail - but 2009 is going to be a different year. I started off on a pretty good note - and then Medz Mom decided to give me a little bit of a kick to remind me...To remind me of where I come from, what possibilities there are in life, and what is important....
By no means is this the last time I will write about my grandmother, just as it is not the last time I will remember her. But now for 40 days, I'll meditate on her, on her life, her death, and her lessons. And I will smile thinking of all that she taught me and all that she did for me, and be thankful to have experienced life being the grandson of such a beautiful woman.
The funeral...
I decided to stay in tonight, get a good night's sleep (I KNOW I said this yesterday), and finish blogging instead of working out. I intend on working out tomorrow morning, but instead of promising myself anything I'm just going to do it!
As Vahan and I predicted, it was waterworks. I looked around the room and everyone was crying. But it was ok. Uncle George came up to me just within the first 30 seconds and gave me a big kiss and said, "You picked the PERFECT music." The priest (Hayr Mkrtich) and Archbishop Vicken were singing along with the music, and couldn't believe I had picked the songs that I picked. My mom was crying, and I told Sabrina to put her arm around her. When the lights came on, my dad went to the podium, crying, and said that they knew I was working all week, but had no idea that I was going to put together something like that. I had made them proud, and had honored my grandmother - so I was happy.
My dad gave a wonderful talk (text below)...and someone stood up and gave a toast himself...my younger cousin Krikor then stood up and spoke. I expected that there would be more people speaking. I had spent a few minutes during the hokee jash crossing out things in my speech that I thought would be repetitive, were already said, and some things that just weren't funny enough (some "you had to be there" stories). I wanted it to be quality - as opposed to quantity.
So I spoke - and as I went on, I relied on my feelings, as opposed to the words on the paper. I referred to the paper for prompts on the topics and/or stories, but as I spoke, I actually found myself TELLING the stories of my grandmother from my heart. It was great. I was cracking a few jokes, remembering her, and everyone was listening and participating. I finally had the chance to tell a huge group of people what a force this woman had been in my life, and everyone listened. I finally was able to let out the feelings and emotions that had been building up all week since she passed away. I ended with the final story of the last time I ever spoke to Medz Mom, when she told me that I was lucky to have a father like Garo, and I told her "But we are also lucky to have a Medz Mom like you."
After that, the afternoon was a blur. People were complimenting me on a good video, telling us all what a wonderful family we had and what a wonderful woman our grandmother was. It was time to go home though. We headed over to my dad's to continue the celebration. At my dads we did some drinking, talking, socializing, watched some more videos. But everyone was beginning to tire. It had been a long week. Sabrina and I finally headed home and crashed.
The next morning I woke up and went to church. I told Sabrina to stay home and sleep. She straightened up the place and made lunch. Church was nice. I left as soon as services were over and headed home to have lunch with Sabrina. We went to Aunt Maria's to hang out with everyone after church. We were there until nighttime. My sister and her boyfriend were there, as was most everyone. It was nice, it was fun, but it was time to get back to normal....Sabrina and I headed back home and fell asleep fast....
I woke up the next morning and took Sabrina to the airport. I had a hard time getting back to work - partly because of emotion, and partly because of fatigue. It was time to get back on track.
My Speech given at my Medz Mom's Hokee Jash
We were having a conversation the other day at my Aunt Maria's, and some how we got on the topic of summing up somebody's life in one word. But there really is no word that could sum up my grandmother's life. I tried - beauty, strength, honesty....but no word, and no speech could really capture the footprint that this woman left on this world. I even went online, looking for the best quote, something that would really sum up my feelings on losing my grandmother. But nothing really captured that either. So, in true Hayarpie fashion, I'm just going to freely express myself, with my own thoughts and words, what's in my heart today about this woman who was bigger than life, and whose brilliance transcended this world.
Dad's Speech
Tribute to Hayarpie Garibian
Jan 24, 2009 at her Hokijash
“Why are you weeping? Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, He has risen.”
These were the words of the angels recorded in scriptures to the startled women who came to the tomb of our blessed Lord on the third day after his crucifixion and burial. The women came to anoint the body of their Lord with oils, and instead became frightened when they found the empty tomb. The angels gave them these comforting words. The great promise of our Lord had been fulfilled, and the world would never be the same.
If Hayarpie were her in this room now, she would ask you why you may be weeping. Our mother was never afraid of death. And she would not want you to be afraid of death.
Park Asdzoodzo! Praise to the Lord!
I feel like we are the luckiest family on the face of the earth to have had our mother Hyarpie for 86 years and to have had those years to share her with each of you. There will be no one like Hayarpie although Tanya and Maria and now little Ani are trying hard.
Our mother came from a generation born in aftermath of the great Armenian Genocide of 1915. Her parents had to twice escape their historical home of Aintab, Turkey, into Aleppo at the hands of the Turks. I can only imagine what horrors her parents witnessed in those years during the massacres. I cannot even imagine the faith and strength in our grandparents that in the face of total hopelessness, they still had the love and desire within them to give birth to a child that became our mother. That is the legacy of that generation of Armenians.
Our mother was fortunate to have received a good education. She grew up with parents who were principles of an Armenian school in Aleppo. In 1949 at the age of 27, she came to the US to visit her brother, the priest, on a tourist visa meant for only three months. She stayed at the house of our Godmother Elsie Parnagian who was responsible for the young Hayarpie. She said our father Garabed saw her at a church bazaar and asked Aunt Elsie permission to take her out. He took her to a Chinese restaurant and asked her to marry him. (She never really liked Chinese food either!)
Because Hyarpie didn’t really know anyone in the community, it is said that her brother, the priest, made an announcement at the end of his sermon one Sunday at the old Holy Trinity Church in North Philadelphia that everyone was invited to the wedding of Hayarpie and Charlie the next week. 600 people showed up, and they were served ice cream and cake. Fortunately our father worked in an ice cream factory in North Philly. If you don’t believe this, just take a look at their wedding book.
Our mother and father had a Lucille Ball and Ricky Ricardo like marriage, and Uncle Niaz was like the Fred. If there were an Ethyl, it would have been Auntie Kayane, There was always something going on in their household. We still hear stories we never had heard before! But soon after her marriage, she gave birth to Tanya, then me, and ten years later she gave us a Christmas gift: our little sister, Maria.
Our mother was a simple person. I have never heard my mother complain about anything. I never heard her ask for anything for herself. I have never heard a foul word from her mouth. I remember as a child her telling us Hayarpie bedtime stories about a bad girl who would use curse words and one day everytime she would open her mouth frogs and snakes would come out. The girl begged God to stop it, but was told that it was her fault for filling her mouth with those evil things. She lived the life she taught.
To understand Hayarpie, you have to understand the things that were most important in her life: the Armenian Church, the Armenian language, her Armenian cooking, and her humor.
Armenian Church
Our mother was a very faithful person. She prayed everyday of her life and taught us to pray with her. We never ate without praying, we never even went to bed without praying, we never travelled without a prayer first. If you have ever been in the car with Hayarpie to go somewhere, you might see her close her eyes and start saying the “Bahaban” prayer, even if you were going down the street. Prayer was like her seat belt!
She insisted her children go to church. There was no use arguing about it. No church meant no “chicken and pilaf.” When people would tell her that they weren’t in Church for Liturgy because they could just stay home and pray as well, her famous answer was that “praying at home is like talking to God on the telephone, but praying in church is talking to his face directly. You could see him, feel him and even smell him.”
I remember when Tanya and I were younger; we would take three buses from Lindley Ave in Logan to church every Sunday morning. The “J” bus to Broad street (or you might walk if weather was good), “C” bus to Susquahanna, and then the bus to Marshall Street where the church was. It didn’t matter whether it was raining or snowing. It was a luxury when later we had a car.
She loved to collect money for the Church and for charities. She always felt that people should give back to God of the Gifts that He has given to them. She was famous for her calls to our parishioners. She was never nasty or underhanded about it. But you always knew what she was up to. For example, “Mr. Sarkis, how are you, how are the children, how is your mother’s heath, and how is your cousin Boghos in Beirut? Good. How much money do you want to give to the Church for the Bazaar this year? (no answer…) You know, Mr. Sarkis, God has been very good to you this year, everyone is doing good, you should give God a gift.”
One day she asked me to give money for someone in Beirut who needed a kidney, and I told her I didn’t feel like it. She answered me, “OK, my rich doctor son, I will give money from me so that one day if you need a kidney God will listen.” Oh boy, did I change my mind!
Even as she aged in her recent years and was rapidly losing her memory, she would be seen closing her eyes and reciting her prayers quietly. Thanks to people like my sisters, Harry Andonian, Helen Mirijanian, Aunt Alice Karabian, they would pick her up from the LaFayette home and Hayarpie would be brought to church for the worship that she loved..
Armenian Language
Our mother loved the Armenian language. She insisted we speak Armenian in the house. I don;’ t think I knew much English when I started first grade. When our father would speak to us in his broken English, she would yell at him and say, “Why do you talk English to them? What, were you born in the White house? You can’t even speak good English yourself, and your speaking to them!” If our Armenian if imperfect, it is entirely our fault, not hers. Her Armenian was impeccable. Till the end of her life she would be correcting our Armenian, whether it was the declension of the verb, the pronunciation or our vocabulary. One day I was at the bedside of Uncle Serpazan, her brother, who was critically ill and dying in the ICU at Jeanes hospital and I remarked that his ankles swollen and she corrected me on the correct Armenian word for swelling.
She loved to teach Armenian to others. One day I came home early from school and she was on the phone for an hour speaking Armenian to someone, while she was sewing in her sewing room. When I asked her who that was, she told me that she was giving Armenian lessons on the phone to Pat Vartanian, who wanted to speak Armenian because she had married Andy Vartanian, and wanted to speak to him in Armenian. She was spend one hour a day with Pat on the phone.
Who in this room has not had Hayarpie correct their Armenian, raise you hands?
Armenian Food
Our mother was famous for her Aintabsti cooking. She loved to make “chikufteh” (raw ground meet patties), “taboule”, “mujatara”, and “lahmajune” and others. Home cooking was important for our mother. Restaurants were not. She never really ever wanted to go out. May be this was because in her generation hunger was so prevalent, that home made food was a gift, not a given. She was proud of her cooking. One day we went out to Moonstruck, a local restaurant here, with my mother, Hyre Nareg, and our Primate, Khajag Serpazan, after he had come down to visit Papken Serazan, her brother, in the hospital. After the waiter had taken the orders, my mother asked Khajag Serpazan, “Toon chikufteh guh siretz?” “Do you like chikufteh?” (Chikufteh is a delicacy of ground raw meat with spices like steak tartar.) Serpazan answered politely, yes. She then pulled out of her pocketbook a home made balls of raw ground meat with spices and slices of lemon and placed it on the table in front of him for him to eat. When I yelled at her, she looked at me with one of those motherly looks, and asked, “What? Does this restaurant have “chikufteh ont heir menu? No! You just saw their menu. I am not competing with them.”
Our mother always made food for each of us to take home after we had moved out of our parents home. We would get a call to come by and pick up a bag of her cooking. My sisters and I referred to these as our “Red Cross packages.” Sometimes she would leave the food in a bag in her porch in case she was not home when we came by. Back in the evening of Feb 14, 1995 we lost our father in a fire at their home, and we almost lost our mother. She was pulled out of the smoke filled room in their house, by the fireman, with severe smoke inhalation and was on the respirator at the University of Pennsylvania Hospital for about 2 weeks. Towards the end as she started to come out of her semi-coma, she would give us hand signals to communicate. It was frustrating, so one day we gave her a piece of paper to write on. And this is what she wrote (in Armenian): “Garo, your 2 dozen lahmajunes (meat pies), are on the porch, and 4 pieces of parag hatz (flat bread), and 8 pounds of onions.”
Her Humor
Our mother loved humor. She was truly a funny lady. She provided us with endless laughter. Her jokes are legendary in this community. Who in this room doesn’t remember her famous duck joke when the village man puts a live duck he just bought at the market into his pants to go into the movie theater on his way back to his village, or cleaning lady in the museum who accidently tips over the naked Greek male statue while cleaning it and breaks off a certain anatomic piece and how she figures out how to fix it, or the dilemma of how to bury the pauper’s young baby and the rich man on the same day? Even as she got older and her memory failed her, we would all gather around her and feed her the jokes line by line and laugh as she repeated them back to us.
Her jokes have travelled as far as Jerusalem, Turkey and Armenia with her.
In 2001, Hayarpie travelled on the Diocesan Pilgrimage commemorating the 1700 year of Armenian Christianity. This trip took the group through the ancient Christian sites of present Turkey, and though the historical Armenian homelands in Turkey including her home town of Aintab, and eventually they ended up in Armenia. Neither I nor my sisters went with her in this trip, but as soon as she returned we began to get phone calls of how my mother had the group in stitches laughing at her jokes on the long bus rides. At one place when the group was being taken on a guided tour of an ancient Armenian Church that had since been turned into a mosque, Hyarpie was seen in the corner of the mosque with the Mullahs and from a distance they were slapping their thighs in laughter over her famous jokes that she was telling them in perfect Turkish. So much for Turkish diplomacy.
Our mother aged considerably in the past few weeks. She shrunk in size and her memory became even worse, but she never lost her sense of dignity. One week before she died, I asked her while I was driving her home, whether she feared dying. She gave me one of those Hayarpie looks and said, No, why do you ask that kind of question? I know I am going to a nicer place with good people around me and with Jesus. Why should I be afraid?
Many of you know my mother was a seamstress, and what I see today in this room is a wonderful quilt of people that she has sewn together, because each one of you is here because she has left a little part of herself in you.
So I ask, like the angels did at the empty tomb, “Why do you seek the living among the dead?
So Saturday morning, I woke up early. All the butterflies were gone. We had seen Medz Mom in her casket, and now it was time to say goodbye the traditional way, the way she would have wanted. I woke up early, made a cup of tea, and sat on my couch, with my cousin Vahan still asleep on the couch next to me. I gathered my notes and began to type what would be my remarks that day at the Hokee Jash (the meal after the funeral).
We arrived at church and I put my things in the church office. My friend Larry had set up the projector for me the night before at church for the DVD, and I had dropped off my cables, so there weren't any worries there. I went upstairs, and took my position. There were some people who had come to the viewing from 10-11, including my mom. My parents are divorced, but still my mom had been close to and known my family since they started dating in 1976/77, so it wasn't weird at all. In true Mom fashion, she was right on time! (she's never late for anything, and almost always early).
When the viewing was over, the service was about to begin and it was time for the casket closing. I made sure I was on the side to see the closing. It was all part of the process - and it doesn't bother me to see this sort of thing. My Aunt Maria gave Medz Mom a kiss, then Aunt Tanya. Then I kissed Medz Mom on the forehead. My little cousin Ani, out of nowhere, came and kissed Medz Mom on the forehead. I asked her later why she did that, when she was so nervous the night before. She said that she realized Medz Mom wasn't going to jump up or anything, and she just decided to do it. She said, "Besides, it's not really Medz Mom there." Very profound for a 9 year old! My dad was the last one to say goodbye to Medz Mom. They pulled a veil over her head, and covered her with a sheet that was part of the casket bedding. They then cranked something that actually lowered her in the casket. My dad began to cry and I said to him, "You know, that's not really her there." We stood there, and I had my arm around Ani (my little cousin) And he said "I know." Medz Mom was beautiful as always and looked perfectly at peace.
I bounded back to my pew and took my place for the funeral. The service was beautiful - and in the traditions of the Armenian church. Arhcbishop Vicken started his sermon in English, remarking that he cannot speak English for very long, since it was Hayarpie Garibian's funeral (to say Medz Mom was known for her passion for the Armenian language would be an understatement). With the casket closed, the whole mood of the day changed. Our heads were raised a little higher, and we stood together as a family, to celebrate the life of our grandmother. His sermon was one of the most animated, inspirational sermons I had ever heard. He spoke about how at the grave, we cry because we see an awful hole in the ground ("ahavor poss"), but that in reality, this was the door to heaven. He was on fire...and we held on to every word.
At the end of the service, the pall bearers (myself, Michael, Krikor, Vahan, Uncle Mickey, Uncle Greg - cousins/uncles) gathered around the casket and walked it out to the singing of Ashkhar Amenayn - the Armenian hymn sung by the deacons when a casket is taken out of the church. It is a dark, dramatic poem-like hymn - and I will have to paste the words another time. It is one of my favorites - and is extremely powerful.
Once we were out of the church, I almost said to my aunt, as we were arranging the cars, "Who is going to take Medz Mom?" It was funny and sad at the same time - just goes to show you how well we were programmed to take care of our family members. Archbishop Vicken also came to the grave, which is extremely unusual for an Archbishop, which goes to show you what a powerful force my grandmother was. We got to the gravesite, Mr. Vernon, and memories of my first funeral (Uncle Niaz - my grandfather's brother) and my grandfather's funeral, all began to flood into my mind. The mood was somewhat light on the way over...but respectful. We got to the gravesite, and the service was relatively short (20 mins). We used to call my grandmother the general. At a point at the gravesite, we heard a plane fly over, and I caught my Uncle Tom's eye. He motioned up with his eyes, as if to say "see, they are flying planes in her honor..." When it came time to throw flowers on the casket, Uncle Tom went up to the casket and did a dramatic salute. I couldn't hold it in and laughed....the funeral director turned to me and said "What the hell was that?" I said "We used to call her the general - so of course she has to be saluted!"
It was time for the Hokee Jash. Sabrina and I sat with my mom and her husband, my dad and his sisters sat at the head table, and most of my cousins at a table. My dad opened up the speaking, and thanked everyone for being there, as well as some individual thank you's. We then played the video that I had prepared during the week...
As Vahan and I predicted, it was waterworks. I looked around the room and everyone was crying. But it was ok. Uncle George came up to me just within the first 30 seconds and gave me a big kiss and said, "You picked the PERFECT music." The priest (Hayr Mkrtich) and Archbishop Vicken were singing along with the music, and couldn't believe I had picked the songs that I picked. My mom was crying, and I told Sabrina to put her arm around her. When the lights came on, my dad went to the podium, crying, and said that they knew I was working all week, but had no idea that I was going to put together something like that. I had made them proud, and had honored my grandmother - so I was happy.
My dad gave a wonderful talk (text below)...and someone stood up and gave a toast himself...my younger cousin Krikor then stood up and spoke. I expected that there would be more people speaking. I had spent a few minutes during the hokee jash crossing out things in my speech that I thought would be repetitive, were already said, and some things that just weren't funny enough (some "you had to be there" stories). I wanted it to be quality - as opposed to quantity.
So I spoke - and as I went on, I relied on my feelings, as opposed to the words on the paper. I referred to the paper for prompts on the topics and/or stories, but as I spoke, I actually found myself TELLING the stories of my grandmother from my heart. It was great. I was cracking a few jokes, remembering her, and everyone was listening and participating. I finally had the chance to tell a huge group of people what a force this woman had been in my life, and everyone listened. I finally was able to let out the feelings and emotions that had been building up all week since she passed away. I ended with the final story of the last time I ever spoke to Medz Mom, when she told me that I was lucky to have a father like Garo, and I told her "But we are also lucky to have a Medz Mom like you."
After that, the afternoon was a blur. People were complimenting me on a good video, telling us all what a wonderful family we had and what a wonderful woman our grandmother was. It was time to go home though. We headed over to my dad's to continue the celebration. At my dads we did some drinking, talking, socializing, watched some more videos. But everyone was beginning to tire. It had been a long week. Sabrina and I finally headed home and crashed.
The next morning I woke up and went to church. I told Sabrina to stay home and sleep. She straightened up the place and made lunch. Church was nice. I left as soon as services were over and headed home to have lunch with Sabrina. We went to Aunt Maria's to hang out with everyone after church. We were there until nighttime. My sister and her boyfriend were there, as was most everyone. It was nice, it was fun, but it was time to get back to normal....Sabrina and I headed back home and fell asleep fast....
I woke up the next morning and took Sabrina to the airport. I had a hard time getting back to work - partly because of emotion, and partly because of fatigue. It was time to get back on track.
My Speech given at my Medz Mom's Hokee Jash
We were having a conversation the other day at my Aunt Maria's, and some how we got on the topic of summing up somebody's life in one word. But there really is no word that could sum up my grandmother's life. I tried - beauty, strength, honesty....but no word, and no speech could really capture the footprint that this woman left on this world. I even went online, looking for the best quote, something that would really sum up my feelings on losing my grandmother. But nothing really captured that either. So, in true Hayarpie fashion, I'm just going to freely express myself, with my own thoughts and words, what's in my heart today about this woman who was bigger than life, and whose brilliance transcended this world.
Food: In certain ways, my grandmother was truly my best friend, I remember sitting in her Rising Sun Avenue house, wanting to make cookies. But I didn't want anyone's help. So she sat me in the kitchen, with flour and water, let me make dough, put chocolate chips on top of them, and put them in the toaster. Or if it was pizza I was making, I used her A&P ketchup, with parmesan cheese sprinkled over it. They must have been the most disgusting things ever, but I distinctly remember her eating them and saying "Oh yeahhh, hamoveh!" But after I got older, I realized she wasn't just a yes person. I studied in Italy for a few months and when I came back, I was used to Italian food. So I said "Medz Mom, did you ever think about putting a little piece of cheese inside a kufteh - that would be a good combo." And she looked at me and said "Offf, come on beh....toon eench guh ses gor?"
Food, as my dad mentioned, was just one of of the many ways she showed her love. You could never get away with not eating - typical of most grandmothers. But my own grandmother had her own way of making you eat...it was like this twisted game of logic. She would ask me, "Antranig, goozes dapkvadz smpoog?" and then if I would say no, she would say "Oh? Ches seerer dapkvadz smpoog?" And I would say "No Medz Mom, I DO like it. I just don't want it right now." And then there would be this uncomfortable silence, and I would say "Ok, give me five of them...and some ketchup."
Protective of her grandchildren: She was also fiercely protective of her grandchildren. One day, when we were living in Churchville, I was in elementary school and was waiting at the bus stop....Medz Mom had been watching us. So some of the older kids started picking on me. All I remember is that I'm getting pushed around, and pushing back...and out of the corner of my eyes I see Medz Mom walking up this long street, at least a half mile away, with her finger pointing...she finally arrives, and backs one of the kids up against a tree and says "Hey, don't be rough don't be tough!" Every day for the rest of the year those kids tortured me, and all I heard was "Don't be rough, don't be tough" - i didn't care though. Because my medz mom had stuck up for me.
Relating to people: She truly loved people and relating to them. I think this one of the hallmarks of her life. It didn't matter who you were - a police officer, a college student, a bishop, a Catholicos, her son, her daughter, or one of the parishioners. Medz Mom loved communication and expressing thoughts to people. I think that is the reason she had such a passion for languages - not just because she wanted to know how to decline a verb five ways, or so she could read more books. But it was because it was a tool that she could have to reach more people. She was like a chamelion - she spoke in the language that you spoke...if you were a 6 year old, and she wanted you to learn the Armenian alphabet, she either gave you a dollar bill, or one of those hard sesame seed candies from her purse. This idea of communication - THIS is why she told those jokes. Sure, they were hilarious, and sometimes a little shocking - but that was her way of communicating with people, of building a bridge from her soul to yours, and most importantly to make you smile. Even my college friends loved her - and not just because she had a tatoo on her bicep. One day I brought my friend Adam over to her condo on Red Lion Road. First of all, we walk in, and she is glued to the TV, watching Jerry Springer. Then I say, "Medz Mom, this is my friend Adam from college." And WITHOUT hesitation, she says "OH yeah? Adam, huh? Well, where is Eve?"
- Jokes: My Aunt Maria were up one day last week and trying to think of the Armenian word for coffin. And of course, there was a time when we could turn to Medz Mom, and the answer would be right there. However now I do what everyone else does - I went to the internet. So I tried using google - and I typed in Armenian word for coffin - and I started tearing up a little bit. And the first link that popped up was "Armenian Jokes and humor." It was almost as if Medz Mom was saying "Stop focusing on death, it's ok to smile a little bit."
A discussion of my grandmother's legacy would not be complete without mentioning her role as a teacher - of many things.
- Language: She taught me how to speak Armenian. I have said before that Father Haigazoun taught me how to read the gospel, Medz Mom was a walking Armenian language book. I used to always be scared thinking about how we were going to learn Armenian when Medz Mom wasn't around to readily give us a word...we even have a category of words we call "Medz Mom words." And when I use a big word in conversation, my dad or one of my aunts will just give me a look, and say "ohhh, that's a medz mom word!" I went to Armenia for a month in 1999, and picked up some of the slang there. In Armenia, one of the slang words is "Khee" - instead of "Inchoo" - which is why. So when I got back I thought I was going to impress Medz Mom with my Armenian slang. So she said something to me, and instead of saying "Inchoo" I said "khee"? And she looked at me with this look of disgust, and said "I don't understand what you are saying to me."
- Life: She also in many ways was a teacher of how to live life. My dad said something very interesting in Medz Mom's final moments. He turned to us and he said "You know, in all of this time, I never heard Mom complain." And he was absolutely right. She was always smiling, always observing, always processing. She lived life with passion - she was our connection to another world. Every single thing she did had a purpose, and she was above the petty things we worry about. Medz Mom was a walking value system - that all you had to do was be a good person, and the rest would take care of itself. She somehow balanced the old traditions, with modern life. She married, raised a family in the home, and was the traditional mother/grandmother. Yet, somehow, she still was this modern woman, with her own career, own identity, and certainly her own independence. She managed to do it all - and did it all with a smile.
- Faith: Up until her very last moments, Medz Mom was a teacher of faith and religion. Anyone who has ever had a meal with our family at a holiday will remember Medz Mom leading the prayer. But she didn't just say the words to get it over with to eat. Medz Mom would close her eyes, and say the words with expression. Not to prove a point - but because she was REALLY saying them. SHE was literally talking to God. And watching her made you envious, and you stood up a little straighter, and you prayed the way it was supposed to be done - with meaning and with honesty. She would give me anything, but when one day I asked her to borrow her Bible to help me with my Armenian reading, because the print was so crisp and nice, she said "Chem grnar, I read that every day. Maybe ooreesh keerk muh gank kezee."
I am proud: I have always been, and today I am so proud to be the grandson of this beautiful woman. I've had the chance to speak in this church hall on a few occasions, and EACH time I made it a point to introduce myself as Antranig Garibian, a child of this church, and the "grandson of Hayarpie." Even though I did it out of love, I also did it out of respect. And true to form, one time I said something during a speech about my grandmother's jokes, and everyone chuckled. And after the noise died down, all I heard from her table was her voice - saying to one of my aunts "Aneegah harmar cheh!" (That is NOT appropriate!!)
Before Medz Mom died, my aunt Tanya said something to me about having no regrets. And, even though I know now I am going to hear about this non stop, I am going to say it publicly, Aunt Tanya was right. It feels good to have no regrets. Because Medz Mom knew exactly how much her family loved her. Uncle George Terkanian said to me last Sunday "You guys treated her like a queen." And I really truly feel that in my heart. She knew how much she was respected, loved and admired.
Her old age: As we all know, as Medz Mom aged, her memory faltered. But until her last moments, she never lost her grace and dignity. One year, I drove her home from a holiday at someone's house. So we drove about 10-15 minutes, the whole way I am telling her about law school, and where I live. And she's asking me if I have met anyone, etc. We're having this great conversation. Then at the end of the ride, I said, "Okay, I'll walk you upstairs." And she says "What's your last name?" And I said "Garibian" - and she looks at me and she says "me too!" And then she says "Please forgive me - i'm losing my memory in my age." And I said, "Don't worry about it Medz Mom."
Dad, Aunt Tanya, and Aunt Maria - you treated Medz Mom like gold. Through all times, the good times, and the challenging times, you never fought. You threw in a couple jabs to each other - and made us grandkids laugh. But there has never been any doubt that you all have always been united in your love for Medz Mom and for our family. Thank you for your example - you were the best son and daughters a mother could have ever had - and you are a lesson for all of us on how to treat our parents.
Even Medz Mom's final moments were a lesson in faith. Her hands were held, she took one final breath. and went to sleep. We were not supposed to be there - for some reason, I decided to go to Aunt Maria's Peaceful final moments surrounded by family - I truly believe that was God's gift to Medz Mom for a life well lived. Medz Mom's final moments were a life changing experience, and I now have no doubts about the faith that Medz Mom held so close to heart.
The other day, for some reason, I remember the last conversation I ever had with Medz Mom. We were at my aunt tanya's and medz mom looked tired. So I walked her over to the couch for her to take a nap. I wasn't sure if she knew exactly who I was. So I said to her, "Medz Mom, eem anoonus Antranig eh, yes koo tornigut gullam - garo-in dugha." And she turned to me and she said "ohhh...keedes...pactavores vor Garo ee bes Hayrig oonees." And the last thing I ever said to her was "Ayo Medz Mom, paytz menk pactavorenk vor Medz Maman kezee bes ooneenk." And she just smiled and took her nap.
In the back of my car, I have Medz Mom's black velcro sneakers. As a reminder...I see them and not only do I think of her, but it makes me remember that I, and my whole family have big shoes to fill. I could speak and tell stories for hours - but I'm hoping that all of you will take teh microphone and tell us some of your stories. Thank you all for being here with us to celebrating this beautiful woman's life and legacy.
Dad's Speech
Tribute to Hayarpie Garibian
Jan 24, 2009 at her Hokijash
“Why are you weeping? Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, He has risen.”
These were the words of the angels recorded in scriptures to the startled women who came to the tomb of our blessed Lord on the third day after his crucifixion and burial. The women came to anoint the body of their Lord with oils, and instead became frightened when they found the empty tomb. The angels gave them these comforting words. The great promise of our Lord had been fulfilled, and the world would never be the same.
If Hayarpie were her in this room now, she would ask you why you may be weeping. Our mother was never afraid of death. And she would not want you to be afraid of death.
Park Asdzoodzo! Praise to the Lord!
I feel like we are the luckiest family on the face of the earth to have had our mother Hyarpie for 86 years and to have had those years to share her with each of you. There will be no one like Hayarpie although Tanya and Maria and now little Ani are trying hard.
Our mother came from a generation born in aftermath of the great Armenian Genocide of 1915. Her parents had to twice escape their historical home of Aintab, Turkey, into Aleppo at the hands of the Turks. I can only imagine what horrors her parents witnessed in those years during the massacres. I cannot even imagine the faith and strength in our grandparents that in the face of total hopelessness, they still had the love and desire within them to give birth to a child that became our mother. That is the legacy of that generation of Armenians.
Our mother was fortunate to have received a good education. She grew up with parents who were principles of an Armenian school in Aleppo. In 1949 at the age of 27, she came to the US to visit her brother, the priest, on a tourist visa meant for only three months. She stayed at the house of our Godmother Elsie Parnagian who was responsible for the young Hayarpie. She said our father Garabed saw her at a church bazaar and asked Aunt Elsie permission to take her out. He took her to a Chinese restaurant and asked her to marry him. (She never really liked Chinese food either!)
Because Hyarpie didn’t really know anyone in the community, it is said that her brother, the priest, made an announcement at the end of his sermon one Sunday at the old Holy Trinity Church in North Philadelphia that everyone was invited to the wedding of Hayarpie and Charlie the next week. 600 people showed up, and they were served ice cream and cake. Fortunately our father worked in an ice cream factory in North Philly. If you don’t believe this, just take a look at their wedding book.
Our mother and father had a Lucille Ball and Ricky Ricardo like marriage, and Uncle Niaz was like the Fred. If there were an Ethyl, it would have been Auntie Kayane, There was always something going on in their household. We still hear stories we never had heard before! But soon after her marriage, she gave birth to Tanya, then me, and ten years later she gave us a Christmas gift: our little sister, Maria.
Our mother was a simple person. I have never heard my mother complain about anything. I never heard her ask for anything for herself. I have never heard a foul word from her mouth. I remember as a child her telling us Hayarpie bedtime stories about a bad girl who would use curse words and one day everytime she would open her mouth frogs and snakes would come out. The girl begged God to stop it, but was told that it was her fault for filling her mouth with those evil things. She lived the life she taught.
To understand Hayarpie, you have to understand the things that were most important in her life: the Armenian Church, the Armenian language, her Armenian cooking, and her humor.
Armenian Church
Our mother was a very faithful person. She prayed everyday of her life and taught us to pray with her. We never ate without praying, we never even went to bed without praying, we never travelled without a prayer first. If you have ever been in the car with Hayarpie to go somewhere, you might see her close her eyes and start saying the “Bahaban” prayer, even if you were going down the street. Prayer was like her seat belt!
She insisted her children go to church. There was no use arguing about it. No church meant no “chicken and pilaf.” When people would tell her that they weren’t in Church for Liturgy because they could just stay home and pray as well, her famous answer was that “praying at home is like talking to God on the telephone, but praying in church is talking to his face directly. You could see him, feel him and even smell him.”
I remember when Tanya and I were younger; we would take three buses from Lindley Ave in Logan to church every Sunday morning. The “J” bus to Broad street (or you might walk if weather was good), “C” bus to Susquahanna, and then the bus to Marshall Street where the church was. It didn’t matter whether it was raining or snowing. It was a luxury when later we had a car.
She loved to collect money for the Church and for charities. She always felt that people should give back to God of the Gifts that He has given to them. She was famous for her calls to our parishioners. She was never nasty or underhanded about it. But you always knew what she was up to. For example, “Mr. Sarkis, how are you, how are the children, how is your mother’s heath, and how is your cousin Boghos in Beirut? Good. How much money do you want to give to the Church for the Bazaar this year? (no answer…) You know, Mr. Sarkis, God has been very good to you this year, everyone is doing good, you should give God a gift.”
One day she asked me to give money for someone in Beirut who needed a kidney, and I told her I didn’t feel like it. She answered me, “OK, my rich doctor son, I will give money from me so that one day if you need a kidney God will listen.” Oh boy, did I change my mind!
Even as she aged in her recent years and was rapidly losing her memory, she would be seen closing her eyes and reciting her prayers quietly. Thanks to people like my sisters, Harry Andonian, Helen Mirijanian, Aunt Alice Karabian, they would pick her up from the LaFayette home and Hayarpie would be brought to church for the worship that she loved..
Armenian Language
Our mother loved the Armenian language. She insisted we speak Armenian in the house. I don;’ t think I knew much English when I started first grade. When our father would speak to us in his broken English, she would yell at him and say, “Why do you talk English to them? What, were you born in the White house? You can’t even speak good English yourself, and your speaking to them!” If our Armenian if imperfect, it is entirely our fault, not hers. Her Armenian was impeccable. Till the end of her life she would be correcting our Armenian, whether it was the declension of the verb, the pronunciation or our vocabulary. One day I was at the bedside of Uncle Serpazan, her brother, who was critically ill and dying in the ICU at Jeanes hospital and I remarked that his ankles swollen and she corrected me on the correct Armenian word for swelling.
She loved to teach Armenian to others. One day I came home early from school and she was on the phone for an hour speaking Armenian to someone, while she was sewing in her sewing room. When I asked her who that was, she told me that she was giving Armenian lessons on the phone to Pat Vartanian, who wanted to speak Armenian because she had married Andy Vartanian, and wanted to speak to him in Armenian. She was spend one hour a day with Pat on the phone.
Who in this room has not had Hayarpie correct their Armenian, raise you hands?
Armenian Food
Our mother was famous for her Aintabsti cooking. She loved to make “chikufteh” (raw ground meet patties), “taboule”, “mujatara”, and “lahmajune” and others. Home cooking was important for our mother. Restaurants were not. She never really ever wanted to go out. May be this was because in her generation hunger was so prevalent, that home made food was a gift, not a given. She was proud of her cooking. One day we went out to Moonstruck, a local restaurant here, with my mother, Hyre Nareg, and our Primate, Khajag Serpazan, after he had come down to visit Papken Serazan, her brother, in the hospital. After the waiter had taken the orders, my mother asked Khajag Serpazan, “Toon chikufteh guh siretz?” “Do you like chikufteh?” (Chikufteh is a delicacy of ground raw meat with spices like steak tartar.) Serpazan answered politely, yes. She then pulled out of her pocketbook a home made balls of raw ground meat with spices and slices of lemon and placed it on the table in front of him for him to eat. When I yelled at her, she looked at me with one of those motherly looks, and asked, “What? Does this restaurant have “chikufteh ont heir menu? No! You just saw their menu. I am not competing with them.”
Our mother always made food for each of us to take home after we had moved out of our parents home. We would get a call to come by and pick up a bag of her cooking. My sisters and I referred to these as our “Red Cross packages.” Sometimes she would leave the food in a bag in her porch in case she was not home when we came by. Back in the evening of Feb 14, 1995 we lost our father in a fire at their home, and we almost lost our mother. She was pulled out of the smoke filled room in their house, by the fireman, with severe smoke inhalation and was on the respirator at the University of Pennsylvania Hospital for about 2 weeks. Towards the end as she started to come out of her semi-coma, she would give us hand signals to communicate. It was frustrating, so one day we gave her a piece of paper to write on. And this is what she wrote (in Armenian): “Garo, your 2 dozen lahmajunes (meat pies), are on the porch, and 4 pieces of parag hatz (flat bread), and 8 pounds of onions.”
Her Humor
Our mother loved humor. She was truly a funny lady. She provided us with endless laughter. Her jokes are legendary in this community. Who in this room doesn’t remember her famous duck joke when the village man puts a live duck he just bought at the market into his pants to go into the movie theater on his way back to his village, or cleaning lady in the museum who accidently tips over the naked Greek male statue while cleaning it and breaks off a certain anatomic piece and how she figures out how to fix it, or the dilemma of how to bury the pauper’s young baby and the rich man on the same day? Even as she got older and her memory failed her, we would all gather around her and feed her the jokes line by line and laugh as she repeated them back to us.
Her jokes have travelled as far as Jerusalem, Turkey and Armenia with her.
In 2001, Hayarpie travelled on the Diocesan Pilgrimage commemorating the 1700 year of Armenian Christianity. This trip took the group through the ancient Christian sites of present Turkey, and though the historical Armenian homelands in Turkey including her home town of Aintab, and eventually they ended up in Armenia. Neither I nor my sisters went with her in this trip, but as soon as she returned we began to get phone calls of how my mother had the group in stitches laughing at her jokes on the long bus rides. At one place when the group was being taken on a guided tour of an ancient Armenian Church that had since been turned into a mosque, Hyarpie was seen in the corner of the mosque with the Mullahs and from a distance they were slapping their thighs in laughter over her famous jokes that she was telling them in perfect Turkish. So much for Turkish diplomacy.
Our mother aged considerably in the past few weeks. She shrunk in size and her memory became even worse, but she never lost her sense of dignity. One week before she died, I asked her while I was driving her home, whether she feared dying. She gave me one of those Hayarpie looks and said, No, why do you ask that kind of question? I know I am going to a nicer place with good people around me and with Jesus. Why should I be afraid?
Many of you know my mother was a seamstress, and what I see today in this room is a wonderful quilt of people that she has sewn together, because each one of you is here because she has left a little part of herself in you.
So I ask, like the angels did at the empty tomb, “Why do you seek the living among the dead?
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
The viewing (1/23/09)
The story of the funeral, and my handling of Medz Mom's death deserves its own post...
As reality hit, I resolved not to let my work suffer. I informed my coworkers that I would be unable to travel, and they were more than willing to help and were extremely understanding.
I had always been extremely close to my grandmother - and had always considered her just that, MY grandmother. But what I learned throughout the following week was that she had also been so many things to so many other people. A mother, a grandmother, an aunt, etc...I spent each night sleeping at aunt maria's, and then talking until 2:00am. I would get up the next morning, somehow make it into work, and then that night go back to aunt maria's. At some point in the week, I think it was Sunday, I decided I was going to do a slideshow of my grandmother (with my new computer - what are the odds). We started digging through old pictures and I started scanning. I ended up scanning over 400 pictures that week. I even went to my Mom's house one night, and the two of us spent about 3 hours rifling like crazy through all of our old family pictures for images of Medz Mom. God bless my mom - she didn't complain once. She just plugged through it with me until we were done - and found some of the BEST pictures.
The viewing was Friday night, almost a full week after Medz Mom died. I picked up Sabrina at the airport Thursday night, and brought her back to the house. I had made pizza dough that night before she arrived, and she was in charge of doing the toppings (our usual division of labor). She and I went to the market, and by the time we got back to the house, it was time to go pick up Vahan. I picked him up from the airport and we came back home, ate pizza (we were starving), and ended up going to bed. Friday I finished work pretty early. Sabrina was at church helping the women prepare for the meal after Saturday's funeral. She got the "newbie" job (wink wink) of cutting the chicken. It totally grosses her out - but she's such a team player she didn't say anything. Vahan and I met up for coffee with our friend Antonio...we then walked home and got ready for the viewing.
We walked into the church, and up to the coffin. I wasn't sure how I was going to react. I cried, but not with quite the explosion I expected. Being with Medz Mom while she died, and the week that had passed had given me the chance to process and prepare myself for this moment. She looked absolutely beautiful. She looked like she was asleep, not dead. Her coloring was perfect, her cheeks were healthy, and her hair was styled exactly as it was when she was alive. She was dressed in a beautiful purple outfit picked by Aunt Maria. A silk purple jacket with an elegant design that had crosses in the design. And true to Armenian tradition, we place a nushkhar in her hand (wafer used for communion). There were actually two - which I'm sure Medz Mom appreciated.
The line grew quickly - it was a long line of people from all over the Armenian community, from our professional lives, and friends of ours from life in general. It was a little overwhelming and a little numbing. It's always been my pet peeve when people started to speak loudly at viewings and got too comfortable. I didn't have the energy to say anything to anyone. I wish it had been a little more quiet, and we had had the opportunity to just sit there and listen to the organ. But perhaps it's never that way for a reason, maybe there is something that is comforting for people to almost act as if things are normal. Maybe there is a fear of death, and people talking is there way of ignoring that fear. At one point in the night, I didn't want to be there anymore. But I owed it to my grandmother, and to everyone who had come out to pay their respects to stay. Sabrina was there, and spent most of her time in the 3rd pew with family, taking care of my little cousins, and overall being the wonderful support system that she is.
Then the service began at 8:00pm...and what a service it was. My two friends, deacons, from NJ came to serve. The Archbishop of our diocese was there, as well as the Legate (Archbishop Vicken). A retired Archbishop who currently lives in Philadelphia came as well (Yeghishe). The local priest was Wynnewood, PA (Hayr Mkrtich) also came - and was visibly emotional. The service began. In Armenian, the service for the viewing traditionally took place in the home, and is called the "Dan Gark" (Doon = home). After the service, Archbishop Khajag gave his message - in Armenian and English, praising my grandmother for a life of faith, and for raising her family in the church. It was a sermon, and Sabrina turned to me and said "that was amazing." After the short service ended, the viewing continued.
When the line had died down, and people were leaving, we were left in the church with Medz Mom. Ani (my little cousin) was talking about how she wanted to touch Medz Mom but was afraid. I told her she didn't have to do anything she didn't want to do. I did NOT want her to feel uncomfortable. She did not touch Medz Mom (this will be important later) I kissed Medz Mom on the forehead and said a prayer. Someone in the back accidentally turned off the lights in the church, and we were left alone with Medz Mom's body. It was the first time all night I was truly relaxed. I could have stayed like that for an hour and just prayed. After that, we went home, and prepared for the next day. I was way too tired to write my "speech" for Saturday, so I went to bed, planning to wake up early and write. I had already begun to jot notes down, so I didn't anticipate a problem.
The whole viewing was exhausting - but it made me realize that many of my tears had already been shed. At least those initial tears - the ones that explode out of you that you can't control. Having 5-6 days before the funeral had given me a chance to comprehend what had happened, and what life was going to be like without my grandmother. It might seem silly that someone might have so many thoughtson the loss of a grandparent, when so many people have suffered more shocking and untimely losses. But I think in certain cultures, Armenian being one of them, you have a direct connection with your grandparents, that is just as strong and distinct as the parental relationship. My relationship with my grandmother was something beyond words, something that we both knew just from looking at each other. After Friday night's viewing, I knew we had one more day to go...Saturday - and Saturday was to honor my grandmother and to honor the traditions that she held so closely to her heart.
We got home from church, had a little bit to eat, and went to bed.
As reality hit, I resolved not to let my work suffer. I informed my coworkers that I would be unable to travel, and they were more than willing to help and were extremely understanding.
I had always been extremely close to my grandmother - and had always considered her just that, MY grandmother. But what I learned throughout the following week was that she had also been so many things to so many other people. A mother, a grandmother, an aunt, etc...I spent each night sleeping at aunt maria's, and then talking until 2:00am. I would get up the next morning, somehow make it into work, and then that night go back to aunt maria's. At some point in the week, I think it was Sunday, I decided I was going to do a slideshow of my grandmother (with my new computer - what are the odds). We started digging through old pictures and I started scanning. I ended up scanning over 400 pictures that week. I even went to my Mom's house one night, and the two of us spent about 3 hours rifling like crazy through all of our old family pictures for images of Medz Mom. God bless my mom - she didn't complain once. She just plugged through it with me until we were done - and found some of the BEST pictures.
The viewing was Friday night, almost a full week after Medz Mom died. I picked up Sabrina at the airport Thursday night, and brought her back to the house. I had made pizza dough that night before she arrived, and she was in charge of doing the toppings (our usual division of labor). She and I went to the market, and by the time we got back to the house, it was time to go pick up Vahan. I picked him up from the airport and we came back home, ate pizza (we were starving), and ended up going to bed. Friday I finished work pretty early. Sabrina was at church helping the women prepare for the meal after Saturday's funeral. She got the "newbie" job (wink wink) of cutting the chicken. It totally grosses her out - but she's such a team player she didn't say anything. Vahan and I met up for coffee with our friend Antonio...we then walked home and got ready for the viewing.
We walked into the church, and up to the coffin. I wasn't sure how I was going to react. I cried, but not with quite the explosion I expected. Being with Medz Mom while she died, and the week that had passed had given me the chance to process and prepare myself for this moment. She looked absolutely beautiful. She looked like she was asleep, not dead. Her coloring was perfect, her cheeks were healthy, and her hair was styled exactly as it was when she was alive. She was dressed in a beautiful purple outfit picked by Aunt Maria. A silk purple jacket with an elegant design that had crosses in the design. And true to Armenian tradition, we place a nushkhar in her hand (wafer used for communion). There were actually two - which I'm sure Medz Mom appreciated.
The line grew quickly - it was a long line of people from all over the Armenian community, from our professional lives, and friends of ours from life in general. It was a little overwhelming and a little numbing. It's always been my pet peeve when people started to speak loudly at viewings and got too comfortable. I didn't have the energy to say anything to anyone. I wish it had been a little more quiet, and we had had the opportunity to just sit there and listen to the organ. But perhaps it's never that way for a reason, maybe there is something that is comforting for people to almost act as if things are normal. Maybe there is a fear of death, and people talking is there way of ignoring that fear. At one point in the night, I didn't want to be there anymore. But I owed it to my grandmother, and to everyone who had come out to pay their respects to stay. Sabrina was there, and spent most of her time in the 3rd pew with family, taking care of my little cousins, and overall being the wonderful support system that she is.
Then the service began at 8:00pm...and what a service it was. My two friends, deacons, from NJ came to serve. The Archbishop of our diocese was there, as well as the Legate (Archbishop Vicken). A retired Archbishop who currently lives in Philadelphia came as well (Yeghishe). The local priest was Wynnewood, PA (Hayr Mkrtich) also came - and was visibly emotional. The service began. In Armenian, the service for the viewing traditionally took place in the home, and is called the "Dan Gark" (Doon = home). After the service, Archbishop Khajag gave his message - in Armenian and English, praising my grandmother for a life of faith, and for raising her family in the church. It was a sermon, and Sabrina turned to me and said "that was amazing." After the short service ended, the viewing continued.
When the line had died down, and people were leaving, we were left in the church with Medz Mom. Ani (my little cousin) was talking about how she wanted to touch Medz Mom but was afraid. I told her she didn't have to do anything she didn't want to do. I did NOT want her to feel uncomfortable. She did not touch Medz Mom (this will be important later) I kissed Medz Mom on the forehead and said a prayer. Someone in the back accidentally turned off the lights in the church, and we were left alone with Medz Mom's body. It was the first time all night I was truly relaxed. I could have stayed like that for an hour and just prayed. After that, we went home, and prepared for the next day. I was way too tired to write my "speech" for Saturday, so I went to bed, planning to wake up early and write. I had already begun to jot notes down, so I didn't anticipate a problem.
The whole viewing was exhausting - but it made me realize that many of my tears had already been shed. At least those initial tears - the ones that explode out of you that you can't control. Having 5-6 days before the funeral had given me a chance to comprehend what had happened, and what life was going to be like without my grandmother. It might seem silly that someone might have so many thoughtson the loss of a grandparent, when so many people have suffered more shocking and untimely losses. But I think in certain cultures, Armenian being one of them, you have a direct connection with your grandparents, that is just as strong and distinct as the parental relationship. My relationship with my grandmother was something beyond words, something that we both knew just from looking at each other. After Friday night's viewing, I knew we had one more day to go...Saturday - and Saturday was to honor my grandmother and to honor the traditions that she held so closely to her heart.
We got home from church, had a little bit to eat, and went to bed.
The day we lost Medz Mom...
Well after a long weekend, and of course a long week, it's time to get back on track. I haven't worked out since Friday 1/23/09 (yes, including today, that would be 5 days without working out - and I am not proud). But, considering how crazy things have been, I'm going to forgive myself. Tonight I'm going to get a very sound good night's sleep, and tomorrow, get back on track. So let me finally write everything I can remember about the craziness that started on 1/17/09.
On Saturday 1/17/09, I was driving home from Providence, RI and decided to order a new computer. My computer on my trip to Providence was lost/stolen. So after beating myself up for a day and a half, on my way home I decided to order a new Mac. I still was on my way to my aunt's house to see my grandmother with my cousin Krikor. I got there in the early afternoon and we didn't end up going to my grandmother's assisted living facility until around 9:00pm. Uncle Greg, Aunt Maria, Krikor and I went. When we arrived, Medz Mom's breathing was strange. Her arms were skinny - which was not so shocking since I know she had not been eating well for quite some time. Aunt Maria kept saying "Hi Mom, hi mom...it's me, Maria..." But Medz Mom wasn't answering. I'll never forget Aunt Maria's voice - she sounded like a little girl, like a daughter, not an aunt. Her lip started to quiver and looking back, I think it was at that moment that she knew Medz Mom was on her way to her final rest. Aunt Maria told the nurse that Medz Mom did not look like she was breathing well (she was unconscious and not responding), and the nurse measured her oxygenation level (her blood) and realized it was low. They gave her oxygen and discussed the possibility of admitting her to the hospital. However, Aunt Maria quickly pointed out that Medz Mom was DNR status (do not ressussitate). Apparently that was not in the hospital's records, so we called my father (doctor and power of attorney).
My dad arrived at the hospital with his girlfriend and told me that he did not think Medz Mom was going to make the night. Her fingers were blue - her heart wasn't pumping hard enough to get blood to her extremities. Her skin was "tenting" - meaning you would grab the skin on her hand, and it would stay up. He was very clinical about the whole thing, but there was nothing insensitive about it. For the first time, I saw my dad as a doctor, as a man who had a deep understanding of the human body. Her breathing, which I can best describe as her lower jaw moving outward with each gasp for air, was called agonal breathing (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Agonal_breathing). As time went on, her breaths became slower, and further apart. I remember looking at her with each breath, wondering if that one would be her last. He tested her eyes twice for any reaction, and I'll never forget him sitting at her head trying to get a pulse, and using his watch to time. It was as if he was "studying" her, but there was nothing disrespectful about it. We were all learning from him, and he was learning from her. He said at one point, "You know, Mom never complained about anything..." In his mind, he was preparing for her to go...he was eulogizing her. And I too began to prepare myself for the inevitable.
We sat with Medz Mom and held her hand, talking to her. We also visited Uncle Greg's father (Uncle Andre) periodically in his room. I called my cousin Vahan in California, who, coincidentally had decided to visit Medz Mom's brother Kegham that day. At a certain point, my dad was holding Medz Mom's right hand, and I was holding her left hand. Aunt Maria also was sitting on the bed. My dad said to her, in a firm voice, in an older brother sort of way, "Maria, let her go." Medz Mom's breathing started to change. Her left shoulder shifted, and her breating became more labored. My dad and I caught each other's eyes and I looked at him, as if to say "is this it?" He nodded to me slightly, not wanting to make a big scene. Her tongue was visible now with each breath. Her body lifted up as if she was going to yawn and her face also grimaced like you do right before you yawn. She did this a second time, and then took her final breath and exhaled a hollow sound - that was about 10:45 pm. Her eyes remained closed and my dad said, "Mom is with us no more." I had literally seen God welcome my grandmother into his kingdom and lift her out of this world. My life was changed forever.
At that point, as a sign of respect, I kissed Medz Mom's left hand. Each one of us went up to Medz Mom, kissed her, and hugged each other. I hugged my dad and told him that he was a good son. He told me I was a good son too....I sat there for a little bit and then went outside and called Vahan. We had to make sure not to make too much noise because Medz Mom had a neighbor in her room, and we did not want to upset her. We left the room for the hospital nurses to clean Medz Mom and tuck her into her sheets, and we went back in to spend some final moments. We packed her things - almost in denial, or shock, at what had just happened. It was like we were packing to move Medz Mom home, and she was just sitting there asleep.
At that point, everything still hadn't hit me. I had never seen anyone die before - and it was the most amazing thing I had ever seen. It was peaceful, amazing, and made me feel very humble and small. Medz Mom faced death with bravery, and I don't think after seeing that, I could be scared of death. She had taught one final lesson. At the end of this email, I pasted some of my thoughts that I shared at her funeral. It's not verbatim what I said, but it's close enough. All I could think about as I stared at her was how peaceful she looked and how she was just as beautiful in death as she was in life. There was nothing ugly about the transition. Quite the contrary, it was almost as if God had made sure it was as peaceful as possible, as a reward for the life of service and love that she had led. I then began the process of notifying those close to me - I texted a few close friends, called Sabrina and Vahan and said a final prayer (Hayr Mer - our father) alone in Medz Mom's room. I said good night to her, kissed her on the forehead, cried a little bit, and left.
I drove back to my Aunt Maria's, taking my cousin Krikor with me. We walked outside of the hospital, said goodbye to each other, and a gentle snow began to fall. I remembered thinking this was the most peaceful night I had ever experienced. Krikor and I sat down in the car, letting it warm up a bit, and I just blurted out "What the hell just happened?" The weight of the moment and of what we had just experienced was beginning to hit me. An era had just ended - 86 years of a woman's life, a woman who left a large footprint, had just come to an end not with a crashing thud, but with a gentle whisper. The silence and gentleness of how Medz Mom left this world was deafening to me.
I had begun to process.
A very close friend of mine whose name I will not mention, but who knows who she is, spoke to me about how different people process grief differently. She has actually studied it academically, so she knows what the hell she is talking about. And I began to immediately take notice. My dad amazed me at the hospital. Some family members were just silent, most of us were tearful. That night, my dad went home, and I went to my aunt maria's. I knew that I had clothes that I could wear the next day at church. The next day, I went to church (we all did) and served on the altar. From the altar, I looked out to the crowd and saw Sabrina - she had flown to Philadelphia Sunday morning and took a taxi to church. Amazing - she was sitting with Aunt Maria in the pews. I had no idea she would come and really thought that she would just wait until the funeral like I told her she could do. But as usual, she amazed me and came to spend the day with the family. It was very tearful, but the best thing we could do at the time. It's amazing where you turn in times of grief. Some people in church knew, while others did not. We were strong - yet appropriately sad. After church, I went downstairs for coffee and sat for a little bit talking to people.
We had plans to go to Aunt Maria's already to go watch the Eagles game. Many people showed up, some not knowing Medz Mom had even passed away and just thought she was gravely ill. It was pretty much a respectful day, where we watched football, but were relatively reserved (except for one idiot who kept screaming like nothing had happened).
And Monday, life started back up. SMR flew back to Providence in the afternoon, and I spent the day with her, going into work late. Messages started to flow in from around the world, phone calls, emails, texts, facebook messages....everyone was expressing their love. It became clear to me that this week was not going to be an easy one.
On Saturday 1/17/09, I was driving home from Providence, RI and decided to order a new computer. My computer on my trip to Providence was lost/stolen. So after beating myself up for a day and a half, on my way home I decided to order a new Mac. I still was on my way to my aunt's house to see my grandmother with my cousin Krikor. I got there in the early afternoon and we didn't end up going to my grandmother's assisted living facility until around 9:00pm. Uncle Greg, Aunt Maria, Krikor and I went. When we arrived, Medz Mom's breathing was strange. Her arms were skinny - which was not so shocking since I know she had not been eating well for quite some time. Aunt Maria kept saying "Hi Mom, hi mom...it's me, Maria..." But Medz Mom wasn't answering. I'll never forget Aunt Maria's voice - she sounded like a little girl, like a daughter, not an aunt. Her lip started to quiver and looking back, I think it was at that moment that she knew Medz Mom was on her way to her final rest. Aunt Maria told the nurse that Medz Mom did not look like she was breathing well (she was unconscious and not responding), and the nurse measured her oxygenation level (her blood) and realized it was low. They gave her oxygen and discussed the possibility of admitting her to the hospital. However, Aunt Maria quickly pointed out that Medz Mom was DNR status (do not ressussitate). Apparently that was not in the hospital's records, so we called my father (doctor and power of attorney).
My dad arrived at the hospital with his girlfriend and told me that he did not think Medz Mom was going to make the night. Her fingers were blue - her heart wasn't pumping hard enough to get blood to her extremities. Her skin was "tenting" - meaning you would grab the skin on her hand, and it would stay up. He was very clinical about the whole thing, but there was nothing insensitive about it. For the first time, I saw my dad as a doctor, as a man who had a deep understanding of the human body. Her breathing, which I can best describe as her lower jaw moving outward with each gasp for air, was called agonal breathing (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Agonal_breathing). As time went on, her breaths became slower, and further apart. I remember looking at her with each breath, wondering if that one would be her last. He tested her eyes twice for any reaction, and I'll never forget him sitting at her head trying to get a pulse, and using his watch to time. It was as if he was "studying" her, but there was nothing disrespectful about it. We were all learning from him, and he was learning from her. He said at one point, "You know, Mom never complained about anything..." In his mind, he was preparing for her to go...he was eulogizing her. And I too began to prepare myself for the inevitable.
We sat with Medz Mom and held her hand, talking to her. We also visited Uncle Greg's father (Uncle Andre) periodically in his room. I called my cousin Vahan in California, who, coincidentally had decided to visit Medz Mom's brother Kegham that day. At a certain point, my dad was holding Medz Mom's right hand, and I was holding her left hand. Aunt Maria also was sitting on the bed. My dad said to her, in a firm voice, in an older brother sort of way, "Maria, let her go." Medz Mom's breathing started to change. Her left shoulder shifted, and her breating became more labored. My dad and I caught each other's eyes and I looked at him, as if to say "is this it?" He nodded to me slightly, not wanting to make a big scene. Her tongue was visible now with each breath. Her body lifted up as if she was going to yawn and her face also grimaced like you do right before you yawn. She did this a second time, and then took her final breath and exhaled a hollow sound - that was about 10:45 pm. Her eyes remained closed and my dad said, "Mom is with us no more." I had literally seen God welcome my grandmother into his kingdom and lift her out of this world. My life was changed forever.
At that point, as a sign of respect, I kissed Medz Mom's left hand. Each one of us went up to Medz Mom, kissed her, and hugged each other. I hugged my dad and told him that he was a good son. He told me I was a good son too....I sat there for a little bit and then went outside and called Vahan. We had to make sure not to make too much noise because Medz Mom had a neighbor in her room, and we did not want to upset her. We left the room for the hospital nurses to clean Medz Mom and tuck her into her sheets, and we went back in to spend some final moments. We packed her things - almost in denial, or shock, at what had just happened. It was like we were packing to move Medz Mom home, and she was just sitting there asleep.
At that point, everything still hadn't hit me. I had never seen anyone die before - and it was the most amazing thing I had ever seen. It was peaceful, amazing, and made me feel very humble and small. Medz Mom faced death with bravery, and I don't think after seeing that, I could be scared of death. She had taught one final lesson. At the end of this email, I pasted some of my thoughts that I shared at her funeral. It's not verbatim what I said, but it's close enough. All I could think about as I stared at her was how peaceful she looked and how she was just as beautiful in death as she was in life. There was nothing ugly about the transition. Quite the contrary, it was almost as if God had made sure it was as peaceful as possible, as a reward for the life of service and love that she had led. I then began the process of notifying those close to me - I texted a few close friends, called Sabrina and Vahan and said a final prayer (Hayr Mer - our father) alone in Medz Mom's room. I said good night to her, kissed her on the forehead, cried a little bit, and left.
I drove back to my Aunt Maria's, taking my cousin Krikor with me. We walked outside of the hospital, said goodbye to each other, and a gentle snow began to fall. I remembered thinking this was the most peaceful night I had ever experienced. Krikor and I sat down in the car, letting it warm up a bit, and I just blurted out "What the hell just happened?" The weight of the moment and of what we had just experienced was beginning to hit me. An era had just ended - 86 years of a woman's life, a woman who left a large footprint, had just come to an end not with a crashing thud, but with a gentle whisper. The silence and gentleness of how Medz Mom left this world was deafening to me.
I had begun to process.
A very close friend of mine whose name I will not mention, but who knows who she is, spoke to me about how different people process grief differently. She has actually studied it academically, so she knows what the hell she is talking about. And I began to immediately take notice. My dad amazed me at the hospital. Some family members were just silent, most of us were tearful. That night, my dad went home, and I went to my aunt maria's. I knew that I had clothes that I could wear the next day at church. The next day, I went to church (we all did) and served on the altar. From the altar, I looked out to the crowd and saw Sabrina - she had flown to Philadelphia Sunday morning and took a taxi to church. Amazing - she was sitting with Aunt Maria in the pews. I had no idea she would come and really thought that she would just wait until the funeral like I told her she could do. But as usual, she amazed me and came to spend the day with the family. It was very tearful, but the best thing we could do at the time. It's amazing where you turn in times of grief. Some people in church knew, while others did not. We were strong - yet appropriately sad. After church, I went downstairs for coffee and sat for a little bit talking to people.
We had plans to go to Aunt Maria's already to go watch the Eagles game. Many people showed up, some not knowing Medz Mom had even passed away and just thought she was gravely ill. It was pretty much a respectful day, where we watched football, but were relatively reserved (except for one idiot who kept screaming like nothing had happened).
And Monday, life started back up. SMR flew back to Providence in the afternoon, and I spent the day with her, going into work late. Messages started to flow in from around the world, phone calls, emails, texts, facebook messages....everyone was expressing their love. It became clear to me that this week was not going to be an easy one.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Tomorrow we begin to say goodbye...
My cousin V arrived from Cali to join us as we say goodbye to our grandmother this weekend...I finished my tribute movie to her. I haven't had a good night of sleep all week, but hopefully that will change. I ran today to try and feel better (3 miles; 24:56) but still something's weighing me down. I don't think the reality has really hit me that my grandmother is no longer with us....more to come on this tomorrow...
Thursday, January 22, 2009
A little lazy...
I got down to the gym today and the treadmills were all full, so I got lazy and went back upstairs without working out. I headed to my aunt's house (I've been here every day this week) to spend more time with the family. The good news today is that the new computer came in and I love it! I felt bad borrowing SMR's new Mac so I finally have my own now - and I am going to treat it like a BABY....
Tomorrow, I'm going to give a full account of what my experience was like with my grandmother (Including the last thing she ever said to me). Right now I am just too exhausted. I need some alone time in a coffee shop or something, but I don't think that is happening anytime soon.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Monday, January 19, 2009
Most amazing experience...
So we lost our grandmother on Saturday night and SMR advised me to right down EVERYTHING that I remembered or felt. Which I will do...but, just as my grandmother probably would command me to do, I have a lot of work to catch up on after this weekend's events, so I will be back to write later.
I actually forced myself to get back into the gym today after taking Fri-Sun off, but it felt good. 3 miles, 25:27. And Medz Mom was pushing me the whole time to get moving. :)
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Back in Philly!
Picked up the car on Thursday and gave the body a break yesterday. I had a deposition in Clinton, CT and then came back to Providence and surprised SMR by hanging out....this morning we woke up, had breakfast, and I drove back to Philly...I'm borrowing her old Dell laptop while I am dealing with some computer issues.....been a LONG week with the computer - long story and it upsets me (not as much as Curly's death though).
So now I am at my aunt's house showing her how to make pizza dough. We are going to see my grandmother at the hospital. Then I am going to go home, work out, and have boys night out tonight. SMR is doing a dress fitting - we had a great night together last night with the invitation lady...time to go hang with the cousins!!
So now I am at my aunt's house showing her how to make pizza dough. We are going to see my grandmother at the hospital. Then I am going to go home, work out, and have boys night out tonight. SMR is doing a dress fitting - we had a great night together last night with the invitation lady...time to go hang with the cousins!!
Thursday, January 15, 2009
If I was going somewhere, I was RUNNING!!!!!
Feeling good so far! I went to bed late last night (and had the STRANGEST dreams) after running...so my log continues for the working out...1/14/09: 3 miles 25:00
1/15/09: 3 miles 25:49
Definitely not my best times, but I don't care. As long as I plug away and let my body get used to the wear and tear again of constant running, I'm confident that I'll gradually increase my speeds and consistently be running 25:00 and under for the 3 miles. Plus I ran late last night and got up early today, so that's a little harder with less time to recover.
Now I have to shower, pack and off to work and Providence! I had the STRANGEST dreams last night. I was going to the Presidential Inauguration on a bus. We were driving through these AWFUL storms, and somehow I got off the bus. Then I was lost and the bus couldn't find me. The bus was heading towards south philly. I was walking towards South Philly and I was looking forward and could see the Delaware River. But I couldn't get close. I kept waking up and going back to sleep. And every time I fell back asleep, I was in a worse neighborhood (in my dream) walking around alone. It was wacky...the bus never found me. And I had my friend Larry's cell phone for some reason...so weird. One day, someone is going to figure out the science behind dreams!
Alright - off to get ready!
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Curly - we shall never forget!
Around this time in 1990, my pet guinea pig, Curly, fell ill....shortly thereafter, we lost Curly...Now I know that some of you think this is funny - but it is NOT!! I was heartbroken (and I have the diary entries to 
prove it!)...Curly was my first pet, followed by Nibbles. Nibbles and I had a good relationship - he was a good pet. But Curly was the first pet I bonded with. SMR doesn't know it, but we will be having guinea pigs as pets for our children. Please note that this is not an actual picture of Curley. Curley was an Abyssinian guinea pig - with spikey hair. I used to gel his hair!! Curly (and Nibbles for that matter) used to snack on lettuce and carrots, and would play inside of tissue boxes. So simple and so fun!! For now, I will just come up with names for our future guinea pigs. I'm thinking "Tony" would be a good one!
Other than that, today was a hectic, but productive day. I paid a lot of annoying bills (xray copay, homeowners insurance) and spent most of the day watching m
y investments crash in value. I'm staying calm, and realizing that one day, this will all be better. Whatever I am losing, someone else is losing a lot more. Further, it's not really "lost" until you sell. Plus I have a job - so I have a lot to be thankful for. Constantly being inundated with bad economic news and results has such an effect on the national psyche. Maybe this country really has reached a turning point, and we need to rethink the fundamentals of our society and economy. Either way, investing is a risk - and you just have to roll with it for better or for worse. I feel ok though...just always nice to see the numbers in my brokerage account be green....but they've been red for so long!!
So while I was planning to write my Curly tribute all day, I was interrupted constantly by work! A client called at 11:00 am with no warning about something due on Friday. Mind you, I have been asking them to work with me on this since December, and they decided to wait until today to get moving on it. Whatever! I did a lot of client discussions today and attacked some annoying things - which were important to get out of the way. Then I came home - and managed to make another meal without going to the market!! Pasta with ground beef, artichokes, and onions. It was actually very good, but I am in DIRE need of a supermarket trip!! However, tomorrow I go to Providence and stay for my deposition in Connecticut on Friday, and then Friday I come home. Saturday is going to be a HUGE supermarket trip (unless I feel like just doing it on Friday on the way home from Connecticut). I love the big supermarket trips b/c I get to stock up - but I really do prefer not to let things build up. Only because I have been without a car for so long have I not gone to the market. Tonight I'm doing laundry/dishes/etc. so I can come home Friday to a clean house!
Enough of the boring stuff...tonight, in a little while, I'm going to go for a run (letting my dinner settle.....then tomorrow probably wake up and lift.
Now I don't want this blog to just be a recitation of my day - so anyone who has any ideas on how to make this interesting - feel free to let me know!!!!!
prove it!)...Curly was my first pet, followed by Nibbles. Nibbles and I had a good relationship - he was a good pet. But Curly was the first pet I bonded with. SMR doesn't know it, but we will be having guinea pigs as pets for our children. Please note that this is not an actual picture of Curley. Curley was an Abyssinian guinea pig - with spikey hair. I used to gel his hair!! Curly (and Nibbles for that matter) used to snack on lettuce and carrots, and would play inside of tissue boxes. So simple and so fun!! For now, I will just come up with names for our future guinea pigs. I'm thinking "Tony" would be a good one!Other than that, today was a hectic, but productive day. I paid a lot of annoying bills (xray copay, homeowners insurance) and spent most of the day watching m
y investments crash in value. I'm staying calm, and realizing that one day, this will all be better. Whatever I am losing, someone else is losing a lot more. Further, it's not really "lost" until you sell. Plus I have a job - so I have a lot to be thankful for. Constantly being inundated with bad economic news and results has such an effect on the national psyche. Maybe this country really has reached a turning point, and we need to rethink the fundamentals of our society and economy. Either way, investing is a risk - and you just have to roll with it for better or for worse. I feel ok though...just always nice to see the numbers in my brokerage account be green....but they've been red for so long!!So while I was planning to write my Curly tribute all day, I was interrupted constantly by work! A client called at 11:00 am with no warning about something due on Friday. Mind you, I have been asking them to work with me on this since December, and they decided to wait until today to get moving on it. Whatever! I did a lot of client discussions today and attacked some annoying things - which were important to get out of the way. Then I came home - and managed to make another meal without going to the market!! Pasta with ground beef, artichokes, and onions. It was actually very good, but I am in DIRE need of a supermarket trip!! However, tomorrow I go to Providence and stay for my deposition in Connecticut on Friday, and then Friday I come home. Saturday is going to be a HUGE supermarket trip (unless I feel like just doing it on Friday on the way home from Connecticut). I love the big supermarket trips b/c I get to stock up - but I really do prefer not to let things build up. Only because I have been without a car for so long have I not gone to the market. Tonight I'm doing laundry/dishes/etc. so I can come home Friday to a clean house!
Enough of the boring stuff...tonight, in a little while, I'm going to go for a run (letting my dinner settle.....then tomorrow probably wake up and lift.
Now I don't want this blog to just be a recitation of my day - so anyone who has any ideas on how to make this interesting - feel free to let me know!!!!!
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Forgive me!
Okay I'm a little late on the posting today. So I got up this morning, and with EVERY OUNCE of willpower, forced myself to do my 3 miles. And I did it! 25:50 - not my best time, but still, an average of 8:36/mile and wasn't very hard. Plus, hey, I got the run in - and bonus - it was in the morning! It is my eternal struggle to try to get into the habit of working out in the morning and I never seem to be able to get it done. But maybe this time will be.........different?
So then I headed over to work and had a deposition over the phone. Phone depositions are good b/c you can do other things while you are listening in, but they are bad b/c a lot of the time the phone connection isn't good. Today was VERY subpar phone connection, but I didn't have any questions for the witnes
s, so it was no harm no foul.
I did get my high score in Wurdle today (5800 points, 2:00 - Wurdle players will understand).
Wedding stuff is kicking into high gear. I think i am going to have to start carrying my weight a little more (it seems, b/c SMR definitely seems to be MUCH MORE stressed than ever before). I can't really say that I understand why she is so stressed out, but whatever. There are just certain things I cannot do or participate in from here, and I just am not the type to get very stressy over things (really over anything). I think that stressing and being emotional tend to get you nowhere - if you have a problem, i think you need to just look at it and see what the possible roads to a solution are. Slamming things, screaming, hollering, anger - all of those things typically lead to nowhere. So I don't waste my energy - not just with the wedding, but with anything. I have a LONG list of things to do - wedding related and non-wedding related. I need to work on stuff at the house, with my personal belongings, etc. But SMR also wants to be together and do social things on the weekend. So what should I do? Argue for more free time to do things? Then I will get yelled at for not having enough time...it's a lose lose...so I just do my own thing and whatever. Maybe I could try and do certain things during the week, but sometimes, I just don't want to after working all day....and round and round we go.
I think it's a big balancing act. It seems to be more and more like that as life gets more complicated and filled with things. But one thing I am committed to NOT doing is letting anything get to me.
I will NOT stress - life is too short and I am not going to spend it worrying about stupid shit.
So then I headed over to work and had a deposition over the phone. Phone depositions are good b/c you can do other things while you are listening in, but they are bad b/c a lot of the time the phone connection isn't good. Today was VERY subpar phone connection, but I didn't have any questions for the witnes
s, so it was no harm no foul.I did get my high score in Wurdle today (5800 points, 2:00 - Wurdle players will understand).
Wedding stuff is kicking into high gear. I think i am going to have to start carrying my weight a little more (it seems, b/c SMR definitely seems to be MUCH MORE stressed than ever before). I can't really say that I understand why she is so stressed out, but whatever. There are just certain things I cannot do or participate in from here, and I just am not the type to get very stressy over things (really over anything). I think that stressing and being emotional tend to get you nowhere - if you have a problem, i think you need to just look at it and see what the possible roads to a solution are. Slamming things, screaming, hollering, anger - all of those things typically lead to nowhere. So I don't waste my energy - not just with the wedding, but with anything. I have a LONG list of things to do - wedding related and non-wedding related. I need to work on stuff at the house, with my personal belongings, etc. But SMR also wants to be together and do social things on the weekend. So what should I do? Argue for more free time to do things? Then I will get yelled at for not having enough time...it's a lose lose...so I just do my own thing and whatever. Maybe I could try and do certain things during the week, but sometimes, I just don't want to after working all day....and round and round we go.
I think it's a big balancing act. It seems to be more and more like that as life gets more complicated and filled with things. But one thing I am committed to NOT doing is letting anything get to me.
I will NOT stress - life is too short and I am not going to spend it worrying about stupid shit.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
The most enjoyable layover ever....
I don't think my luck could have been any better...I have about an hour layover in Phoenix, AZ before I head back to Philly, so I thought I was going to miss the Eagles game in the midst of all of this traveling. But as luck would have it, there is a plasma tv at my gate playing the game. And not only that, there are the comfortable southwest chairs with one open RIGHT in front of the tv....this is almost more comfortable than watching at home! Now I am going to get some food and I am all set!! This is beautiful....
Today is my rest day from exercising.....first one of 2009! I'm thinking it's a good idea to give my body a little break from a long week of working out, traveling, partying...last night's wedding was a blast. SMR's friends are first class, just like her, so I didn't have any doubt that we would have fun. But this place was beautiful. A ranch/zoo with several levels and little areas. There was a one man reggae steel drum player from Trinidad during cocktails, and then the DJ took over...there were a lot of Italians there, and they were awesome. We met some new people - and overall had an amazing time. My body never quite adjusted to West Coast time, so I am hoping I will get back to East Coast time quickly.
Time to get some food...I had so much fun this weeked - and now back to work!
Today is my rest day from exercising.....first one of 2009! I'm thinking it's a good idea to give my body a little break from a long week of working out, traveling, partying...last night's wedding was a blast. SMR's friends are first class, just like her, so I didn't have any doubt that we would have fun. But this place was beautiful. A ranch/zoo with several levels and little areas. There was a one man reggae steel drum player from Trinidad during cocktails, and then the DJ took over...there were a lot of Italians there, and they were awesome. We met some new people - and overall had an amazing time. My body never quite adjusted to West Coast time, so I am hoping I will get back to East Coast time quickly.
Time to get some food...I had so much fun this weeked - and now back to work!
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Two refreshing days!
Well, I have to say, as much as I LOVE Philadelphia and the East coast, I do NOT miss the cold weather there one bit....not...at...all....
Early today SMR and I went out on a 30 minute run (looks like tomorrow's gonna be the rest day), and it was amazing. The air is definitely dryer here, and it feels different, but it was so refreshing (not to mention helped sweat out some of the wine from last night). I was going to try and meet up with my cousin, who is out here planting the family flag, but it was just too much of a packed schedule and he's an hour away...that's what happens when you have destination weddings - it's usually a packed schedule...
That's him, in all his beauty! (he's the chocolaty one on the left)...He's also organizing a ridiculously fun bachelor party weekend for me and the boys in New Orleans...so I didn't think it was fair to make him drive an hour just to hang out for 45 mins because we had to get ready very early and start to hang with the wedding party...
Last night was a wine night, and tonight it's gonna be a grey goose night. We have to leave pretty early tomorrow but these two days away have felt amazing....
Yes - still going!
1/09/09: 25:20
This morning got up, flew through Phoenix to Orange County, CA (beautiful). Met SMR's AMAZING friends...(really amazing people - too long to even explain) and ran 3 miles (true to the resolution!)...Now in bed and resting up....All I have to say is congratulations to Martino and Sarah! A weekend full of love and I could not be happier for them.
This morning got up, flew through Phoenix to Orange County, CA (beautiful). Met SMR's AMAZING friends...(really amazing people - too long to even explain) and ran 3 miles (true to the resolution!)...Now in bed and resting up....All I have to say is congratulations to Martino and Sarah! A weekend full of love and I could not be happier for them.
Thursday, January 08, 2009
Another day, another 3 miles!
That's right - after a long day at work writing briefs on state laws all around the country (BLAH), and a nice turkey burger dinner (ok, so I need to hit the supermarket), I mustered up all of my energy to keep the New Year's resolution and....
3 miles - 24:46
And so another day the resolution lives on! PHEW! I'm REALLY working on changing things up in 2009...somehow keeping my dedication to work, staying active, and yes, tracking my thoughts here on these pages! I have to admit, I have a little bit of a developing blister but I'm hoping that's just from the socks I wore today. Enough details?
So now it's time to pack and tomorrow of to California for the wedding of SMR's good friend. I'm excited to get away for a few days. We changed our flights to come back on Sunday, b/c I had a very important Court appearance on Monday, but the case settled (boo) and no motion argument. So no real reason for me to come back on Sunday, but it seemed like SMR was glad to be starting off the week fresh.
So the rehearsal dinner tomorrow is "dressy casual" - and I'm having a little trouble determining what that means! Jacket? No Jacket? I'm thinking of wearing a suit that will look just fine if I take the jacket off immediately...probably the engagement party suit.
And now, while I pack, I've been blessed with a rerun of one of my favorite movies...JURASSIC PARK!!!
Why do I love this movie so much? I don't know - it might have something to do with Newman being such a diabolical madman...that part with the embryos in the Barbasol can was pretty awesome. Who knows...
Bbut when we went to LA this year, I freaked out like a fat kid at Ponderosa when I saw the Jurassic Park theme ride at Universal Studios!! (I was a fat kid who used to freak out at Ponderosa, so I am allowed to say that). Here's a clip I took from the ride!!
Anyway, better get to packing, even though I need a haircut and I'm ready to go to bed....tomorrow's work out plan is to get a quick run in at the hotel before the rehearsal dinner....let's hope Philly airport does a few things right tomorrow for once!
Don't wanna jinx it...
...but it looks like I might actually get to go to California worry free! I still have two major reply briefs due on Monday, but they are for two different clients in the same case, so at least some of the major issues are ones I can focus on and kill two birds with one stone...
Oh, SMR has asked that I start posting more pics to the blog for all of you (even though I have no readers, I still appreciate all of you nonetheless). So here are the chicken meatballs I was raving about last night (which are taunting me from the work refrigerator as we speak!)
So, I woke up this morning, and my arms have that jelly feeling again from last night's workout. But that is perfectly ok, because it means I actually did something! The ankle is admittedly sore, but not much, so I stretched. I am at work now and plan on getting out around 5ish (if I can get the work done) and running. Then tomorrow off to California!!!
One thing on my mind is my grandmother - who is not doing so well right now. She's not someone who is easy to describe in just a few short words - but long
story short, she was born in historical Armenia (eastern modern day Turkey) and her family escaped to Aleppo, Syria (pic). After spending most of her life learning and teaching, she came to the United States (at the invitation of her brother, who was a priest at the time (on his way to becoming an Archbishop in the Armenian church) and married my grandfather, who had already been here. She came in May 1949 and the rest is history....3 children, 7 grandchildren, and thousands of admirers. Truly a remarkable woman - a teacher, a linguist, a church-going faithful woman who has never lost her faith in God. She lived with my grandfather and his brother her whole life. And as much as I love and admire my grandfather and his brother - living with the two of them was no easy task! Whatever happens with my grandmother, I can only say that she has lived a full life - and lived it with dignity. I can only hope for the same myself. I am going to try and visit her in the hospital as soon as I get back from California.
As for now, time to focus, get to work and analyze Ohio law for a few hours!!
Oh, SMR has asked that I start posting more pics to the blog for all of you (even though I have no readers, I still appreciate all of you nonetheless). So here are the chicken meatballs I was raving about last night (which are taunting me from the work refrigerator as we speak!)
So, I woke up this morning, and my arms have that jelly feeling again from last night's workout. But that is perfectly ok, because it means I actually did something! The ankle is admittedly sore, but not much, so I stretched. I am at work now and plan on getting out around 5ish (if I can get the work done) and running. Then tomorrow off to California!!!
One thing on my mind is my grandmother - who is not doing so well right now. She's not someone who is easy to describe in just a few short words - but long
story short, she was born in historical Armenia (eastern modern day Turkey) and her family escaped to Aleppo, Syria (pic). After spending most of her life learning and teaching, she came to the United States (at the invitation of her brother, who was a priest at the time (on his way to becoming an Archbishop in the Armenian church) and married my grandfather, who had already been here. She came in May 1949 and the rest is history....3 children, 7 grandchildren, and thousands of admirers. Truly a remarkable woman - a teacher, a linguist, a church-going faithful woman who has never lost her faith in God. She lived with my grandfather and his brother her whole life. And as much as I love and admire my grandfather and his brother - living with the two of them was no easy task! Whatever happens with my grandmother, I can only say that she has lived a full life - and lived it with dignity. I can only hope for the same myself. I am going to try and visit her in the hospital as soon as I get back from California.As for now, time to focus, get to work and analyze Ohio law for a few hours!!
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
Chicken challenge!
So I am going to California on Friday and as a result, the huge amount of work that I have this week is being condensed into 4 days worth of work...bad timing, but what are you gonna do? That combined with the fact that I have no car = no time to go food shopping. But since I am not quite the junk food eater that I used to be, I still need to make good meals. So I did something that I love to do - I challenged myself to make something good....last night I had made mashed potatoes from scratch (no butter/salt, just literally mashed potatoes). It was easy and delicious. For dinner, I took three chicken breasts, defrosted them, and chopped them up as small as I could. I added sun dried tomatoes, olive oil, garlic powder, 1/2 onion chopped, salt, pepper, ketchup, bread crumbs, romano cheese, and feta cheese, artichokes, mixed it all together and VOILA - Chicken meatballs! I fried them in pan (I know, not healthy), and had a few of them with the mashed potatoes and it was a GREAT meal! Now I am finally sitting here relaxing (after having folded some laundry) until I hit the gym.
I'm taking a break from running today and I am going to do an upperbody workout per SMR's trainer...then tomorrow I'll be back to running and then I think Friday might either be a break day (if I run late tomorrow), or I might sneak in a run before I go to my flight to California.
Other than, that tomorrow's going to be crazy! I have two more reply briefs I have to write for clients that are actually due on Monday (luckily I got everything done today that was due on Friday). I think I can get them done by 1:00 pm, especially if I am EFFICIENT! I think more and more about how important it is for me to be efficient so that when I am married with kids I am able to come home and see my family for a good amount of time each day - to have quality time...
For now, it's about 20 more minutes of relaxation, and then off to the gym!
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
DON'T LAUGH!
I shouldn't promise things that I might not deliver on. So I am NOT going to promise this time that I will be a better blogger and write more consistently. But I am sorry readers for neglecting you (it's actually sad that I am writing to my readers, knowing full well that no one reads this - but it's kind of making me laugh at the same time). So, my eager public, I apologize for my period of inactivity, but I'm back with a vengeance.
It's 2009 - the year of our wedding. I think back to all those times that I sat at others' weddings wondering if I would ever find the person who I would stand at the altar with. I wondered if it was possible to REALLY be so sure about someone that you could make that promise to God, and in front of all of those people, and really mean it. Well, as luck would have it, or as fate would have it, I am there. I can honestly, 100%, say that I have ZERO doubts about SMR and our life together. I'm a little nervous and scared, but more of what the road is going to be like. There are also moments when I want to pinch myself and wonder what I did to deserve someone so perfect....but I tend not to dwell on thoughts like that because I don't want to ruin it!
So...after our engagement party, I fell off the boat working out. When SMR and I did the 5k in September I thought I was newly motivated. But the ankle injury was definitely still bugging me, and it was then turning into hamstring/knee problems. So finally I ended up scheduling an appointment with a "shaman" of sorts who made me realize that my biggest problem was that I wasn't stretching enough. And as unbelievable as this may seem, as soon as I started stretching, the pain went away! I still get the occasional aches and pains, but for the most part I am back to normal...
So in 2009, I must say, I have been very good so far...
1/1: 3 miles 25:20
1/2: 3 miles 24:20
1/3: Workout with SMR's trainer (abs, triceps, biceps, lunges - vorig hurts!)
1/4: 3 miles 26:00
1/5: 3 miles 25:50
1/6: 3 miles 24:53
So the goal is to trim down a bit, and overall feel better - especially, as SMR reminds me all the time, since w are going to Bora Bora for the honeymoon and we have to look good...
See you tomorrow, loyal readers (I don't care if you are non-existent, I still love you!)
About Me
- Mr. Trig
- This blog follows my diaries from 1990-1992, kept at the direction of my mother. If any of you kept a diary as a child, I highly recommend digging it up. In 1989, my family and I moved from Churchville, PA to Rydal, PA, a suburb about 10-15 minutes outside of Philadelphia, PA. I was new to the school with a long Armenian name that I was sure would immediately make me an outcast. I was anxious about making friends. The kids welcomed me with open arms (I still count them as my closest friends to THIS DAY) - and so did the teachers. Sadly some of the people are no longer with us - but the memories are as fresh in my mind now as they were then. I remember my first slow dance, my first "girlfriend", our breakup, the day my pet guinea pig Curly died (your jaw will drop when that is posted), and my recollection of the current events of the time.... Maybe the stories will make you laugh - or maybe if you have kids they'll remind you that kids see and hear everything! Whatever your point of view, join me in reliving my rollercoaster ride through adolescence during the early 1990's!!!!
