dad – Sherri Ross

Tag: dad

30
Nov
2019

The First Thing I Remember?

So today is the end of #BlogLikeCrazy – the month long challenge at See Jane Write to post a blog post every day. I was so excited that I completed it…until I went back and counted all my posts. I do know that I didn’t post every day technically – some days I posted twice because I missed getting my post up the day before for various reasons. But I did get some content posted every day for November. Or so I thought. I just went back and looked at each day, counting them as I went. Apparently I was asleep all of November 6th because there is no post for that day or a double post the day after. Ack! So, in order to make sure I am TOTALLY LEGIT for Blog Like Crazy b/c I told myself I was doing it this year – HERE IS YOUR POST FOR NOVEMBER 6th! lol. Sorry it’s a bit late. Sorry I fell asleep on the job, but here you go!

I don’t know exactly what my first memory is…or rather, I don’t remember my first memory. HAHAHAHAHA. But one of the first memories I have is my dad taking me on Space Mountain at Disney World when I was very young and being scared out of my freakin’ mind. I don’t really remember the ride (now), but I must have been tall enough to ride or I wouldn’t have been allowed on it. But I sure wish I hadn’t (I do remember that much) b/c I was screaming bloody murder the whole time with my dad behind me. So, your lesson for today – PARENTS, DON’T TAKE YOUR YOUNG CHILDREN ON SPACE MOUNTAIN UNTIL THEY’RE OLD ENOUGH TO ENJOY IT. OTHERWISE YOU WILL SCAR THEM FOR LIFE.

You are welcome.

16
May
2016

These hands are not my own

categories: dad

It’s an odd and scary thing…getting older. Seeing the changes in your body – some subtle, some drastic. One day I’m looking at the smooth, unblemished hands of a 20-year-old and the next I’m noticing how the skin isn’t as taut as it used to be….and how I can see my father’s hands in mine.

I’ve long been afraid of dying. I’ve sought religious counsel, gone to therapy, talked to God and tried to reconcile my feelings, but they’re still there. Granted, since I’ve started therapy, started praying and relying on God more, and found a nice balance with medication (there is NO shame in my game), I have found more peace with it. The mere thought of passing away, of no longer “existing” as I know it, used to bring on a full panic attack complete with gasping, head pounding, blood rushing, nausea, and near fainting. This fear has(had) kept me from flying in airplanes a lot and other things that would enhance LIVING. Like the old cliche goes, I was so scared of dying that I wasn’t living.

Now that things are somewhat better, I can see the effects of aging and think about the future – even the unknown – without breaking into a cold sweat. The lines under my eyes that weren’t there two years ago. The cracks and aches that swing by when they’re feeling lonely. The lines and breaks on the back of my hands that are outlining the years as I go along. I often looked at my father’s hands growing up and thought about all the jobs he’s worked to provide for me, all the hugs he wrapped me in, and the spankings I received (deserved!). I can picture myself as a tiny, tow-headed girl with my little hand completely lost in his as we walked through Six Flags or the World’s Fair. I can remember him throwing me through the air into the hotel pool, holding me tight on rides, and working hard around the house to make sure everything was done that needed to be.

His hands tell a thousand stories, many I don’t even know. My hands have their own stories. But as I watch mine change each day, noticing more and more lines and similarities in skin to my father’s tan, tough hands, I’m grateful that they’re following the same path. I love my father’s hands because they were my swing, my horsey, my crib, my blanket, my security and my comfort whenever I needed. Even if I never have children of my own I hope my hands have – and are – giving someone else that same comfort.

23
Oct
2015

A Note to Dad on his Birthday

categories: dad

Me, Daniel, and Dad in Clanton on 10/17/15

We all have baggage – emotional, physical, otherwise. I’ve led a charmed life, but it wasn’t easy and it has been constantly overshadowed by the dark relationship with my mother. I won’t go into the details – they are far too lengthy and boring – but my husband, father, sister, and therapist know most all of them. More and more is coming out during sessions with my new therapist and she is, quite frankly, working miracles in me. I have had many therapists through the years, for various reasons or another, but this one is simply working wonders. She’ll tell you it’s not her – it’s God – and I believe that, but she’s still the vessel and a very talented one at that.

All that to say this, my dad raised me. I was extremely lucky to move to my dad’s in Alabama, from my mother’s in Wisconsin, when I was 7. So he has raised me nearly my entire life. Memories with my dad are many and happy….annual trips to Six Flags with a stop at Denny’s, periodic trips to Disney World, card games on Friday nights, reading books together, testing out new songs for him on the mic in the front room while he listens from the living room, showing off my trumpet playing and baton and flag twirling skills for him when I learned something new, weekend trips to the mall with my friends with ice cream stops after, watching TV together, learning new things on the Mac and in his businesses, and so many more. Every holiday was amazing, school, work, and family were important, and he sacrificed a lot to make sure I had everything I needed and participated in every activity I wanted to growing up.

As a child and teenager, I didn’t appreciate his constant giving. He always seemed glad to do it and never once did I hear him complain about money, chauffeuring me to and fro, or my constant needs. He covered me in hugs, values, and love. As I started my adult years, I began to grasp a little concept of what it was like to be an only parent raising the opposite sex. Now, as I get into my 40s, the appreciation I have for him raising me by himself grows exponentially every year. I can’t imagine what it was like as a man raising a little girl, the nuances that come with that like hair, makeup, BOYS(!!), periods, sex, hormonal changes, emotional changes, etc. He handled everything with grace and dignity, never abandoning me or flailing for answers.

There will never be enough time to tell him just how much he means to me or how thankful I am that he raised me. He instilled the most awesome values in me, taught me how to fiercely love, how to live life and have fun, how to be compassionate to those less fortunate or in need, and how to be the best person I could. I hope I have made him proud so far; I will continue striving until the day I die because he is the example I excel to be. He is my hero and my everything. Today, on his birthday, I want him to know that I received the best present ever – him as my father. I love you, Dad. Thank you for loving me.

29
Dec
2012

Mad As Hell

categories: dad

It’s 2:30 am and I still can’t sleep from being mad and upset. So I figured I would get it out and and tell the world. I don’t normally ever post negative or mean things, but this was eating me up.

To the Central Alabama VA Health Care System – West, Montgomery, AL
12/29/12

I had originally intended to write a glowing thank you note for the wonderful care you have been providing my father during his stay at the hospital. My dad usually speaks very highly of his doctors and nurses at the VA, but the night of 12/27/12 was his first time to be admitted overnight. I drove in today (12/28) to be with him and was impressed with my first experience at your hospital – from the friendly and caring staff to the cleanliness of the facilities to the little perks here and there for the veterans and their families. I even posted high praise for you all on my Twitter and Facebook profiles earlier today. While I don’t want to discount the hard work and smiles of the nurses we had earlier, I was heartbroken late tonight when I was told I couldn’t sleep in the extra bed in the room to stay with my sick father. I understand there are policies and procedures and I even offered, beforehand, to pay for or clean the bed the next day for your troubles just so I wouldn’t have to leave him. I was waved off and thought it might be alright since there were plenty of empty beds around us. I guess a shift change had just occurred because close to midnight a lady came in the room wearing an outside jacket, possibly over scrubs – I couldn’t tell. Without announcing herself or saying “Hello” she immediately asked if I was a patient – I was lying on the extra bed and she had every right to. I explained that I was not and that I was his daughter, pointing to my dad. I then asked if I could help her with something since she had bypassed formalities or introductions and didn’t look to be dressed in nurse’s attire. She informed me the shift change had just started and she was checking on everyone. About two minutes later another nurse came in and told me I couldn’t sleep in the bed because if her supervisor came checking, she would be in trouble. I apologized and got up, got my things together, and left the hospital a little after midnight in tears. I stopped by the nurses station on the way out and explained to the group, through my tears, that I understand they have rules, but I really didn’t think her supervisor would mind me staying with my sick father. She responded that I could stay, just in the chair. I had been there all day, in the chair, and it sits straight up and offers no comfort for the long night. After having sat in it all day, with no one else in my father’s double room, I changed into pajamas and still no one offered me anything for comfort. I had to ask for a pillow and a blanket. I’m not sure what family members do that stay with their loved ones there, but I counted at least 20 empty beds in the rooms around my father’s. I would have GLADLY given up the bed for a veteran or anyone who needed it, but just to tell me to get out of it because she “might get in trouble” seems like a paltry reason to separate me from a sick parent who has trouble breathing.

I hope you treat your patients better than you treat their loved ones. And I hate to think of what elderly loved ones have to look forward to sleeping on or in when with their veteran families at your hospital.

Sincerely,
Sherri Ross
Birmingham, AL

06
Nov
2012

I’m late! I’m late!

categories: friends, Uncategorized

In retrospect (all of 5 seconds ago), I probably should have chosen a different title for this blog post. I realize some of you are going to immediately click on it to find out if I’m pregnant. I’m not (but thank you for caring enough to check right away). This title is referring to the White Rabbit in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.

From Wikipedia:

The Rabbit was perhaps most famous for the little ditty he sang at the beginning – “I’m late! I’m late!
For a very important date! No time to say hello, goodbye! I’m late! I’m late! I’m late!”

Some believe the rabbit was late for the announcement of the Queen to the royal garden. The panic the
rabbit showed was his fear of losing his head. Upon her arrival (where Alice has been helping to paint
the roses red) the cards finish their song and the rabbit blows his trumpet (which he had been carrying
for most of his lines) royally introducing the king and queen.

Do you ever have those days (or weeks or months) where you feel constantly hurried and harried? Do you ever feel like you’re going to lose your head? This year and gotten increasingly busy and everything is moving at warp speed. Gone are the days when I would take the weekends to relax and rejuvenate. They are now as jam-packed as my work-filled week and I don’t even have 2-legged kids! I have enormous respect for those of you who manage to run a household, work a job, and raise a family, among all your other responsibilities.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining. I lead a very fulfilling life – my work is challenging and I work with some of the most talented (and friendly) people on the planet, my boyfriend is amazing and shows me everyday that he cares, is ambitious and inspires me to be a better person, and God, my family and friends are the center of my world. I often comment on Facebook how lucky I am to have the most amazing friends and it’s true. I’ve evolved from a pair of extremely close girlfriends all through school to a wider circle of close confidantes and an enormous stretch of beautifully talented friends and family. Many have been with me for years and have seen me through marriage, divorce, beginnings, endings, moves across the city, state, and even the country, animals, a million hair colors, styles, and transformations inside and out. Even when time or distance us separates us – sometimes for years – I know I will always have my gals. I can never repay them for the love and support they’ve always shown me through the years, but I hope they know how special they are to me. That being said, I don’t see them nearly enough anymore. Life has gotten in the way and I’m not sure how. I love to be with my gals and nurture those relationship, yet somehow I only see them a few times a year, if that. What is so important that I can’t take a night or weekend here and there to make time for all these women who have become such an integral part of my life and helped me becoming the woman I am today? Nothing, that’s what. Same goes for my dad – I don’t see him as much as I would like. Nothing is more important than these people, these relationships, these memories we are making. I tend to forget and take each day for granted. There are still a million things I want to do with my life and I’m working on some of those “goals” already. But one short and long-term goal should be making more time for the very important people in my life who have influenced and supported me for years. You know who you are….I’m coming for you.

Love yourself.
Find peace inside.
Share happiness.

P.S. I also have a few pretty amazing guy friends, but I’m going to save them for another post. 😉

P.S.S. I know it’s election day, but I could get mired down in that for hours and you still need to finish work and get dinner taken care of. 🙂 I got out and voted today. I hope you did too. It is such an honor and privilege that we have the freedom to choose our next leader. Thank you to all those who have served, are serving, and will serve so that we can exercise that freedom. I salute you.