A Tribute to My Big Brother

 My BBF…Big Brother Forever

This week is my oldest brother’s birthday. He would’ve been 72 but 21 years ago next week and one week after his 51st birthday, he passed away from the side effects of chemotherapy for Lymphoma. It’s hard to believe it’s been so long ago as so many things still so clear in my mind, like they just happened yesterday. 

We didn’t really get to know each other or become close until I was in my 20s. While his presence and brotherly support in my life was short in time considering the big picture, it was much needed, welcomed, and very powerful. 

I call him my BBF…big brother forever. He became my best friend, confidant, and support system. I could not be more blessed to have had the relationship we forged; it simply was ended way too early. There has been nothing to come close to what we had. No replacement. 

I’m trying to not let my feelings of loss and grief overwhelm me this year but instead remember and honor the brother, the man, the friend he was. I decided to make this post a tribute to our relationship and memorialize a day we spent together; one that made us both almost pee our pants every time we shared it with others. 

My brother purchased his first home and moved close to me for the last 5 years of his life. Before that we got to know each other by his yearly vacation to visit me. Depending, he would bring his husband or come alone. He started to love this state and would choose a few things he wanted to see and do on his vacation. I would always make sure to take time off to be able to go with and spend time.

This particular trip he wanted to visit The Biosphere 2. https://biosphere2.org/ This was during the first experiment when a full crew was living inside. I had not been there and so we were both looking forward to the trip. 

He decided he wanted to drive and I’m always fine being the passenger, so we set off in my Ford Grand Torino for a 2 hour drive to our destination. When getting off for our first exit, the car was behaving strange and started smoking. We pulled into the nearest garage and it was then we realized he had been driving in second gear all those miles at freeway speeds. Oh shit was heard simultaneously!

When the mechanics heard our story they grinned at us. When the hood was opened, the entire engine and compartment were filled with oil as the wrong gear had caused high engine pressure and allowed the oil leak. The mechanics were super nice but I’m sure laughing at us. 

They told us to go 3 blocks to a car wash and use pressure wash and get as much of the oil off as we could and then come back. They even showed us where not to get wet on the engine. My car still had a carburetor. Off we went, washed the engine the best we could and headed back to the garage. 

The mechanics refilled the oil and test drove to check for leaks. There were none and they assured us everything would be fine with my car but it would take a bit for all that oil to burn. That meant it was pretty smoky for the day. We asked if we should return home and they said they saw no reason to not go ahead with our plans to visit Biosphere 2. Off we went.

We had a good time touring and learning all about it. We then headed back to my house. I decided to take a back route so we could stop every 20 minutes and check for oil leaks. Paranoid of course! Smoking yes. Leaking oil no. Yay! 

When we arrived back in town we were both hungry. He loved the sourdough burgers from Jack in the Box as those weren’t available where he lived. We pulled into to the drive thru and placed our orders.

As we pulled forward, my car was smoking like a sonofabitch! A cloud of smoke enveloped us and because we had mostly been driving since it happened, we had no idea just how bad the smoke was and we started to laugh. As we pulled up and the young man came to the window, all the smoke started sucking right into the store. I roll down my car window and he says to me “ma’am do know your car is smoking”? We both started laughing harder. I replied yes thanks, I have an oil leak (obvious understatement of the year LOL)

I roll my window back up so we don’t get any smoke but the employees at this Jack didn’t close their window and soon all the people inside the store, employees and customers, were coughing from the smoke. We are rolling with laughter inside the car, my brother says I hope we get our food soon before they are all over come by the smoke. He said we would be reading the paper about them becoming sick or passing out from exposure to the smoke, maybe hear the emergency vehicles arriving as we left. LMFAO! He’s killing me……

By this time we are both dying with laughter as not one employee thought to close that window. They just allowed all that smoke to accumulate inside. We both wondered what kind of qualifications it took to work there….no mean intentions, just laughter about how just closing the window would have prevented the whole incident. I’ll just be thankful for that young man not closing it and for giving me such a fun, funny memory of this day I spent with my brother. We got the the hell out of there with our food in hand and laughed for hours afterwards, 

We told the story many times to friends and family. I’m not sure if anyone else ever thought it was as funny as we did but then they weren’t there. Retelling and sharing was always good with us. One little slip of a gear made our entire day into an adventure of a lifetime. One I’ll never forget and I’m sure he doesn’t either. Forever our memory, brother and sister sharing time and having fun, 

A few years after he died, I wanted to get a tattoo to honor his memory. This day came to mind as what could be better than this memory, this trip turned adventure, this fun and laughter to have with me forever. I told this story to my tattoo artist and granted him creative expression to make a unique and personal tattoo for me. 

It took 18 hours which I did in 3 different sittings; it’s a full lower leg/calf. There’s no denying that getting a tattoo is painful but I always loved tattoos and I have a few. I didn’t mind any of these sittings. Each of mine tells a story of something in my life that was important. I have others but always have kept them in places where when dressing professionally, they wouldn’t show. Back in my day tattoos weren’t nearly as mainstream as they are now. 

Here is my leg in four different sections. I did my best taking these pictures of my leg and hope you can see it well. Remember you can click on any picture on this blog to view it clearer and larger.

 In the first photo you will see it starts with a window with smoke coming out and then you see a Jack In The Box with a gas mask on and holding a cheeseburger, the second picture the smoke fades into the depiction of the Biosphere 2. Below you can see one the pictures of B2 that we used for reference. (See it’s really not a penis 😂)

I love how it came out. I get many comments on it even though I know people don’t have a clue what it is but the art is fantastic, courtesy of https://www.adriandominic.com/  It’s a very personal tattoo that I’m proud to wear, to have that with me everyday but the story doesn’t end there.

About 6 years ago I decided I wanted to add to my tribute. I went in with the idea of having something to represent eternal life and wanted to combine two different elements, a skull and the Eye of Ra. Again I gave AD creative expression as I so love his work. Here is what came out of this collaboration. This is located on my thigh above the leg sleeve.

One great thing for me is how my skin takes the ink so well. My guy commented so many times about how color just loves my skin. I talked him into that purple as he told me for most people this purple usually looks more like gray. We both enjoyed how the color came on this one too! I have taken good care of all my tattoos, being diligent with sunscreen and moisturizer, and the colors are still very vibrant. 

 

As I was taking these pictures with writing this post in mind, I noticed something about this tattoo. I have had this on my leg for six years and many have seen it but not one person ever noticed or commented on this. While I do still love it I realized something about it I had never seen before, an “error”. While the broken apart skull is fantastic, the Eye of Ra is not the Eye of Ra, but instead the Eye of Horus. Ra is the right eye and Horus is the left and I had hoped to get Horus on my left side to match Ra. They have different meanings. 

I had quite the chuckle the other day when I saw it. In some ways, it’s so perfect for the add on to my BBF tribute. Another adventure with a suprise to laugh about! Apparently Horus wants to be on this leg too as it would work on the back of my thigh. At age 66 yes, I am still considering adding to my collection. 

Happy Birthday my big brother. I love and miss you every day. Your actual presence here is so missed but you are always in my heart. I hope you’re having the time of your life. I know you’re watching and would still say how proud you are of me. 

Love you ♥️. Gone too soon. Always in my heart❣️

I am happy to share this here on my blog for all to see. Permanently on the internet. Permanently on my leg and in my heart and mind! 

7.28.25

Unexpected

 Unexpected

This is Henry. He’s one of my yard cats that I feed. It seems I’m attracting all the panthers (the black cats) lately. He showed up here at my feeding dishes last fall. I feed the outside feral cats and do what I can to keep them safe and healthy.

One thing mandatory at my house, whether you live inside or outside- absolutely no gonads allowed! I always watch to try to get the females spayed as a priority as they have the uterus that makes the babies. The males all will lose their testicles eventually but I can tolerate them and their male hormone nonsense until I can afford it and safely catch and recover them. 

TNR. Trap. Neuter. Return. This is the standard for ferals. The idea to get them fixed and release back to where they were found. Of course the spaying and neutering keeps the population down by no longer breeding but also releasing them back to their colonies will help reduce the numbers as there is usually a set amount in each colony so others don’t join. Don’t release them elsewhere or try to relocate as more just come to fill the open spots. A well maintained colony will eventually die out. What usually happens, unfortunately is more unfixed strays show up because of irresponsible owners. It can be frustrating as it never seems to end. More on this another time.

About 6 months ago I saw a spay neuter clinic being offered at a very reasonable price. I had one female at the time who needed trapped and spayed. I always make 4 appointments as I own 4 humane traps. I set my traps the night before and watched while I was able to get the female  and 2 males. Henry was of those males.

All 3 did well after their surgery. It always makes me feel good when I can release them, knowing they can just be a cat now and not have worry about those hormones and drive to breed. For the females, no more babies and worries of keeping them alive and safe. It warms my heart to see them transform out there with just a little bit of care.

Henry seemed a bit older as he moved slower. I could tell he was struggling to survive when he arrived at my house. His coat was rough and he had patches of hair missing and some typical tomcat scars on his body. He’s on the smaller side but he didn’t take any crap from others and was well mannered for a feral. But he wasn’t neutered. 

About 2 weeks after his surgery, I was sitting outside enjoying the evening like I do on most nights. Henry walked over to me, gave me a good look and stare and then he jumped into my lap and began to purr!!!

I was shocked to put it mildly. He had given no indication of being friendly for all those months. He obviously was not feral, but instead someone’s pet who was abandoned in the neighborhood. One of many I have cared for over the years. Whatever happened to him made him not trust humans but he never gave up. 

I have to believe that he knew he found safety here with me and the others in my colony he joined. He finally realized he can trust me and now gets a lap purr party with me most evenings at his insistence. He has food and water and a yard to explore with friends to play with. His coat is looking great again even during this summer heat. I can just see such a difference in this little older man. He even greets me at the door in the mornings with his timid meow. Makes me smile! 

So unexpected was Henry, my little Hen Hen. Life can be that way- unexpected. By now, I shouldn’t be surprised but I guess I never really think things will turn out to be much of anything good for myself. But yet I still keep trying. I continue to search for anything that might be helpful for me and the things I struggle with. 

I have had my own unexpected find this past two weeks. It’s made a significant shift for me, way more than a glimmer, some actual hope of a path. It’s been good to make that “find”, to feel myself shifting a bit. To see some new cracks formed that are letting some light back in after being so shut down and closed up, stuck in the hopeless darkness. 

I don’t want to put labels or expectations, or anything that might limit my possibilities or ways of thinking about what’s happening. I am happy to even be able to have these thoughts again. I am grateful to those parts of me that never give up looking and searching and willing to try new things in hopes of finding change, however that looks. I’ll share more when I’m ready and able. 

Henry never gave up and look what he found 😻. He’s living his best life out there. I affectionately call him Hen Hen, my sweet surprise. I hope I’m taking a page out of his book, out of all the strays stories of survival and finding their way to better life by getting help. 

Maybe one day finding hope and new paths of possibilities won’t seem so unexpected to me. Maybe one day….. Until that time, I will keep looking, keep trying. 

 It does not matter how slowly you go so long as you do not stop.

–Confucius (551-479 BC), philosopher

I don’t want to be shattered once again.

Be kind. 

7.27.25

Independence Slipping Away

Independence Under Threat

 Everyday it is difficult to watch all the hate and horror happening here in the USA, my country. The constant barrage of lies and acts against the constitution, the violation of peoples rights, all happening out in the open, under threat. It’s hard to watch this- all of our independence being threatened by one fucking man and those who are carrying out what amounts to emotional dick sucking, afraid to do what’s right for us, the actual people of the country. 

It’s hard for me to understand how these people think they will never pay for their cruelty and lawlessness. I have to believe in the power of the people that will eventually overcome this era but no doubt we have been set back many years of progress in all areas of our life. Karma will happen and I hope I live long enough to see all of them brought to justice.

While I do worry what might happen to me by all this and I imagine it will likely hit me in the wallet and create even more struggles for my existence, I’m mostly concerned about the threats to my personal independence.

Retirement has been a true challenge for me. I definitely wasn’t prepared and had no idea what I might encounter. It’s been 18 months since I quit my job, refusing to be pushed into something that wouldn’t be good for my long term health. 

I know part of my struggle is how much personal value is placed on productivity and the things that you do. Almost 4 years in therapy has made me so aware of how I was and in some ways still am, dependent on external things to full fill my life. While walking away from my job into retirement, I just didn’t realize how much I would be walking away from.

To go from working a lot of hours every week to not having any thing on my schedule was very dysregulating. All the connections and conversations and hugs and friendly faces, all gone away. All the ways I used to feel good about myself, all those confident parts of me, kind of all abandoned, not being used. I feel forgotten and not needed anymore. That hurts. 

Figuring out what my days can look like or be for me is hard. I have no family, no partner, very few friends and no one who actually knows much about me. I’m still not sure of what I can accept but at least I have been able to slow down and value rest in my life. Is what I have enough; I know need more or different. Just not sure what that is or could be and where to find it. 

I now have a total understanding of how so many senior citizens feel so alone and useless in so many ways. No where to be, no one that really cares any longer. My sense of value poof- disappeared, left out there somewhere never to be found or utilized again. I didn’t build anything for myself. I gave it all away and here I sit with very left to sustain me, to find satisfaction or some enjoyment for what is left, for where I am now. 

So far it hasn’t mattered what I did for others, my emptiness inside, the hollowness and darkness I feel in my soul, the ability to find joy in myself or with my Self seems so pointless most days. It’s hard to be real and honest and recognize how fucked up some things are. It’s difficult to want to keep doing the work, to make changes and updates to some things existing more than six decades.

I get so tired. And discouraged. The hopelessness sets in and pushes so hard to make me give in or give up. I keep fighting, thankful for that ever so present survival part of mine Soul Survivor, and for Cog and Brain Train who keep me looking for knowledge, searching for something, anything that might help me. For Commons and the rest of my care takers for not allowing the Squad to end it and win out or surrender to their constant pressure of failure, of never being enough. 

All these things make living life alone getting more and more difficult. And now knowing I have a few MAGAts that live next door it adds more onto my plate. More things I have to protect myself against. I never considered the possibility of being forced from my place but now I must put new strategies for safety IN MY OWN HOME, for me, my home and property, and my pets. Unfortunately this is what MAGA is all about- fear and intimidation. It’s hard enough having internal battles so having these things happening in external world just sucks. Don’t know any other way to put it.

I have fought so hard to keep my independence, to be able to live alone in my own house. I just don’t know how long it will stay possible. I have to admit that it is one thing that really scares the crap right out of me as I don’t know that I can or will adjust to any other way. 

My physical health limits my ability to do many things I used to. My financial doesn’t always allow for me to get the help I need as people don’t work for free nor would I expect them to. I just can’t do it all like I used to and really have no one to help. My yard used to be the envy of the neighborhood with beautiful manicured sod grass, a lovely rose garden and many other flowers around. But work and time and loss of friends and relationships make things change. 

I’m doing the very best I can at this time and I know it. But is it good enough to keep my independence in a way that is healthy for me. What will be the tipping point? The deciding factor of I need more or better for myself and have to admit I can’t do it alone? I don’t know the answers but it does worry me a great deal. 

I’m older. I’m not ancient but there is much that has changed physically, mentally, emotionally, and financially. I haven’t prepared myself or put myself in a very good position to be here right now where I am. I am alone with very few resources and very few ideas or knowledge of how to get those now. Like U2 says…you give and give and give yourself away. It’s fine to give but when you receive very little back you’ll wake up beyond empty one day and just say to yourself

What Actual The Fuck? How did I ever get here like this.

My independence is being threatened in many ways. I’m still fighting and also still struggling to find a way. A way to accept, to want to be here, to keep going, to find goodness in Self. I take nothing for granted any more. 

Today I have some things to explore, to maybe find ways some new paths or doors to enter that have yet to be uncovered. Who knows what I might discover there. I’m also thankful to have some support to help me. I’m still fighting and trying and figuring out ways to move with and thru the challenges. Just a bit more reserved and silent. 

I’m not going to lie to myself- I am worried about what might happen to me. All I can do is keep trying my best everyday and hope it’s enough. 

I’m still thinking about the gun. It’s not very much like me but then I realize I also need to make changes when and if needed. I’m not going to do anything rash or spur of the moment. But it’s still on the table of possibilities; If I decide it is beneficial I will go all in, in the safest way possible. 

Independence is crumbling all around and within me, still I fight on. As long as I keep finding those glimmers, those small bits of hope, I’m not giving up yet! I don’t surrender easy. 

It’s hard being alone, isolated and invisible. 

Just some thoughts on this hump day….

7.23.25

When Hate Lives Next Door

When Hate Lives Nextdoor 

I wanted to write a post on the 4th of July but I haven’t been feeling very festive. What’s going on here in the United States is so difficult to watch. Racism, bigotry and hate out in the open. People being grabbed off the street for the color of their skin. Blatant lying from our government officials. Groups of people being denied their existence. No one seems truly safe. It all gets to be hard to take.

I know I’m not the only one. My neighborhood was built in the 70s. Lower middle class. It’s very diverse here with many immigrants. I have lived here almost 40 years now and this year is like no other. It’s frighteningly quiet. 

It’s summer right now here. My pool is at the perfect temperature for my enjoyment. I am taking full advantage of it but it’s sad to be out there when it’s so silent. I don’t hear any families enjoying their pool, barbecuing, doing karaoke, playing music, laughing, and having fun. Even the fireworks were scarce. It feels like everyone is scared, hiding inside their homes.

I get it. In such a short time this USA that I was born and raised in has changed in to something I don’t recognize. The amount of cruelty being shown against people that is a daily occurrence is truly unbelievable. 

I recently called someone I know and had a conversation about purchasing a handgun. Me, in my 60s thinking about getting a gun is not something that had ever crossed my mind. But I’m scared too.

I’m thankful I am white but I am alone and really would have no way to protect myself if anyone wanted to cause harm. I’m not in good health and physically it wouldn’t take much to overtake me. I’m not sure what I’m going to do yet about a gun but I’m so surprised to be having these thoughts and for a good reason. Who could’ve predicted how this administration would be behaving.

As I was sitting in my outdoor rocking chair on Friday evening, I began to listen to my neighbors. That house I refer to as a bachelor pad as it’s some young white guys with women in and out. This morning there were 7 vehicles attached to their house. They drive big ass trucks or SUVs. 

So this young man says “you know, I love rainbows and not the kind in the sky but the gay ones. They all laugh. And then he starts talking about cats and I very quickly realize he’s talking about me. At first I chuckled at the rainbow reference. I recently bought some new tye dyed night shirts that I’d been wearing and I’m sure he saw me in one. To be labeled as gay because you wear bright tye dye gives me a huge red hat warning shall I say. 

This young man went on to totally destroy me, calling me white trash, trailer trash, crazy cat lady, a bitch. He criticized and trashed my landscaping and my house maintenance, everything he could think of. I’m not going to record every ugly word he said about me but I was really surprised as not one person from that house has ever spoken one word to me, ever. They don’t know anything about me but that didn’t matter. And then I heard one whisper, they must’ve realized I was outside as the one that had been spewing the hate said fuck her and they all went back inside to hide. 

MAGAts living right next door. It took me aback. Of course I was pissed to sit and listen to some young MAGA punk spew so much hate towards me. And it hurt a bit being judged by a complete stranger on nothing more than what his eyes viewed. I wanted to say fuck you too MAGAt and much more but thankfully my common sense knew to zip the lips. 

It's moments like that that make me realize how I really don’t have much in the way of defense for myself. I need to not let my words get me into any situations that jeopardize my safety. This loud proud independent Aries old woman just needs to not engage. It takes too much energy. It’s safer that way. It’s still hard not to want to. 

Not going to lie. Hearing my neighbors views about me is a plus in the yes get a gun bucket. Still at the thinking it all through stage as it’s so far out of my normal. 

What makes this even more challenging for me is the external world is becoming as harsh as my internal world. Where do I find a break?

7.13.25

The picture at the top of this post was taken this month at Kilauea, Hawaii volcano. This photographer loves the heart shape eruptions. Such a powerful picture in so many ways ♥️

July

It’s July and this my first post for the month. I’ve needed the silence for a bit. I came across this article today and so much of it spoke to me. Hope you feel something too…

 To The Quietly Courageous

By Liz Koch July 7, 2025

There are lives shaped by struggle. By hopelessness that lingers so long, it becomes the air you breathe. I’ve lived that kind of life, where getting out of bed feels like a triumph. Where brushing your teeth, answering a text, or making it through the day without crying feels monumental. I’ve known what it’s like to be swallowed whole by something you either can’t or don’t want to name out loud.

I’m not in that place right now, and I’m grateful for that. But I haven’t forgotten what it took to survive those days. I carry it with me, not as shame, but as a quiet kind of knowing. A deep respect for the ones still in it.

This is for you.

You, who gets up when every part of you wants to stay buried under the covers. You, who takes your medication even when you feel conflicted about it. You, who goes to therapy, even when it’s exhausting or scary. You, who endures the hurt of living in a world that wasn’t designed to hold you. You, who is learning, maybe for the first time, that setting boundaries is not selfish, it’s necessary.

I want you to know that I see you.

There’s a courage in the choices you make that the world might never applaud. But I know how much they cost. I know how much strength it takes to do what looks small from the outside. Texting a friend and asking for help when your throat tightens with shame. Saying “no” to someone who’s always expected you to say “yes.” Choosing not to self-harm when the urge feels familiar and loud. Taking a mental health day from work or school when the pressure becomes too much to carry.

That’s not weakness. That’s resilience.

Sometimes it’s as quiet as making a meal for yourself, taking a shower, or cleaning the clutter from your nightstand. Sometimes it’s deciding to stay sober one more day, without recognition, without anyone noticing but you. Those choices matter. They are acts of hope in a world that can feel endlessly heavy.

People love a good comeback story. The crash, the rise, the triumphant return. I’ve learned that healing doesn’t arrive like a sunrise, sudden and full of promise. It’s more like a flicker, a candle in the wind. It lives in the in-between moments, the ones where you’re not quite falling apart, but not yet feeling okay. It’s in the pause between grief and relief, the expansion and contraction of daily life. That’s where quiet courage lives. And it’s sacred.

Most of the real work happens in silence. Day after day. Inch by inch. Choosing to keep going, even when there’s no finish line in sight. That’s where healing grows, not in grand transformations, but in a thousand quiet choices. I know this because I’ve lived it.

I’ve sat through therapy sessions where I couldn’t make eye contact. I’ve swallowed pills that tasted like surrender, only to find out later they were small vessels of hope. I’ve spent months numb, wondering if joy would ever return. And I’ve come out the other side, not fixed, but whole in a different way. A kind of kintsugi-wholeness, held together with golden seams.

That life—the one shaped by struggle—has given me something, too. A kind of knowing. Not just of pain, but of what it means to rebuild. Of what it means to live inside the “after.” There’s wisdom in that. A beauty the world doesn’t always recognize, but I see it.

So when someone says, “Easy for you to say. I can’t,” I don’t respond with clichés or solutions. I respond with truth. That I’ve been there, feeling stuck and defeated. That I found courage, not because I felt strong, but because giving up never led me to where I needed to go. I kept choosing the next step. The next breath. The next hour. That’s all it was. That’s all it ever is.

And that choice, made over and over, becomes its own kind of strength. A quiet wisdom that says: “It won’t always feel like this. You are not broken. You are doing the best you can with what you’ve been handed, and that is enough.”

To be quietly courageous means choosing life again and again in ways no one may ever see. It means carrying pain without letting it define you. It means holding onto hope—not loudly but tightly.

You are not weak.

You are quietly, powerfully brave.

And on the days you forget, I’ll remember for you.

---

People need other people. You are not weak for wanting or needing support. If you’re seeking professional help, we encourage you to use TWLOHA’s FIND HELP Tool. If you reside outside of the US, please browse our growing International Resources database. You can also text TWLOHA to 741741 to be connected for free, 24/7 to a trained Crisis Text Line counselor. If it’s encouragement or a listening ear that you need, email our team at info@twloha.com. 

I am still here. Just trying to figure things out. 

7.11.25