A Heartfelt Thank You

December 31, 2012 | Julie Hall

They say time heals all wounds. In the last few weeks of losing dad and mourning the loss of both my parents in the last year, I have asked myself how I will get back up and move forward. For me, it is about staying active and busy. A frequent thought visits me; what can I do to help others, and how can I serve them best? I just assume, since we all grieve in different ways, I will eventually be okay with the passage of time, bending God’s ear a lot, and relying on the support of family and close friends.

What caught me by surprise, however, were all the wonderful comments and emails I received from you. I had no idea so many people who I don’t know personally genuinely cared, or that my blogs or writings had somehow touched you or your family. I had no idea that sharing my thoughts made a positive impact.

I am deeply honored that you reached out to comfort me. Little did I know that a good dose of healing took place over the holidays because of your kind comments and heartfelt words.

You have re-instilled my faith in humankind — people are by nature “good” even though all we ever hear about in our media is the bad. Your comments and sincere emails were deeply touching at a time when I needed them most. I am reminded of a line from a classic movie, “The Sound of Music.” Fräulein Maria says, “Reverend Mother always says when the Lord closes a door, somewhere He opens a window.”

Thank you for opening a window for me. Happy New Year!

The Crossroads

December 18, 2012 | Julie Hall

I just lost my dad. One minute, he was talking, walking, and shopping with me; the next day he was someone I didn’t know. Overnight, his dementia had taken hold and he was lost to us. I’ll never know if it was a new prescription that pushed him over the edge, or someone stealing his wallet at his assisted living center (which held his lucky $20 bill from his Navy days in the 1950s). I’ll never know the answer and I’ll never gather enough facts to know. This doesn’t exactly bring me peace.

Was it part of God’s plan to take this wonderful, kind man that everyone loved so quickly? Had God heard my prayers for mercy as I saw him headed down the slippery slope of decline? For days in the hospital, I sat talking to dad. Even though he was unresponsive and incapable of our usual communication, I could see that parts of “dad” were still there. The doctors were not forthcoming with information and it was a constant struggle to get the facts and the truth — two things my tenacity was going to attain. I watched for days as the prognosis grew worse, until finally I lifted a prayer begging for answers … any kind of answers.

The neurologist came into dad’s room and he was, quite literally, heaven-sent. He answered all of my questions to the best of his ability. He told me dad was not coming back and I needed to make a decision as dad’s healthcare power of attorney. An infection had started to brew and they wanted to know if we should treat it or not. Fortunately, one of the greatest blessings in all of this is that mom and dad left detailed living wills/advanced directives, spelling out what they wanted and what they didn’t.

There was no way dad wanted to live like this, and his living will guided us to the final decision that allowed him to die a natural death as he requested. As my sibling said, “It was the hardest, easiest decision to make, because dad had told us what he wanted.” We honored his wishes, as hard as it was. Imagine the level of guilt we would have to bear the remainder of our lives, had dad not gone to the trouble to have this for us, guiding us through a very dark and sorrowful time.

Moving him to Hospice House was the best decision. Dad was so peaceful there. I am convinced the nurses and CNAs had angel’s wings under their scrubs; yet another blessing during this time of crisis. I stayed with dad in hospice for two days. I talked non-stop (aided greatly by the constant flow of caffeine), I sang to him “Amazing Grace” and other songs he loved. I asked for forgiveness for the times I wasn’t the best kid or short on patience, and I reminded him of all the great family memories. I thanked him for instilling in us kids the morals and values that have carried us so far. I asked him to watch over my family, give mom a big hug, and touch the stars for me. It is hard to carry on a solo conversation.

A couple of hours before he passed, he gave me a great gift. He opened his eyes and locked onto mine. He hadn’t done that in a week. Giving dad the biggest smile that I could through the tears, I told him that I was right there with him and that I was okay (he always worried about me). I was sad but okay and was going to be okay. I told him “I love you” as I had at least 100 times that day. For a man whose brain could no longer function and who lost his powers of speech, what he did next was a very special gift. Eyes locked on mine, his lips mouthed the words, “I love you” right back. In human terms, that was impossible, but not to me. That was a parting miracle and one I will never forget.

Thanks for letting me get this off my chest. It is a sorrowful time for me and my family, but dad always said, “Life is for the living,” and mom always said, “This too shall pass.” I think they were both right, as always.

The Antique Show

November 6, 2012 | Julie Hall

I am known to frequent antique and collectibles shows. Curiosity always gets the best of me and I just have to go and visit with dealers from different markets to get their take on how the market and economy are doing.

Yesterday, I went to a large show in my area. In 2010, it had shrunken with fewer big tents and dealers than usual, and 2011 was no different. This year, it appeared a bit larger, but what the producers of the show had done was allowed flea marketers in with items of lesser quality. So you had very high-end antiques mixed in with yard sale items. Some people enjoyed the varied selection, but most of the dealers did not.

There was a quiet murmur among the dealers of the show, and with my ability to bounce from dealer to dealer, I got to hear most of the “scoop” that was going around. They blamed the producer of the show who allowed the “cheap” goods in. Attendees were buying the cheap goods but not the high-end antiques. Some of the dealers who knew me shared that while they had sold some items. the public in general has become more difficult to deal with.

“They want to negotiate from the get-go, knowing the economic situation. They don’t care what something is worth. If we have $100 on something, they want it for less than half of that. They also behave as if we (dealers) are taking advantage of them, and we’re not … we’re all struggling.”

This was the basis of what I was seeing and hearing. Some dealers who refused to negotiate will be left with a truckload of stuff to bring back home and not much to show for it in their pockets. Others who are willing to negotiate will at least make something. Still there were others that shocked me a bit when I picked up one of their items; it was an immediate “I can do better on the price.” One lady pretty much dragged me into her booth and kept showing me things I had absolutely no interest in, and I thought that was pretty strange behavior … like she was desperate. No one likes to be pushed, but I remained polite and said, “No, thank you.”

As I soaked in the local color and all the buzz around me, a thought occurred to me that probably wouldn’t mean anything to anyone else. If all this stuff is left behind and the piles only get bigger with time, because they are not selling, what will become of all these items and who will purchase them as we continue to age and pass away?

If I were a dealer, I would think the art of negotiation and letting things go for a modest profit would be the key to being more successful in this challenging economy.

Live a Life That Matters

September 24, 2012 | Julie Hall

(Source unknown)

Ready or not, someday it will all come to an end.

There will be no more sunrises, no minutes, hours or days.

All the things you collected, whether treasures or baubles, will pass on to someone else.

Your wealth, fame, and temporal power will shrivel to irrelevance. It will not matter what you owned or what you owed.

Your grudges, resentments, frustrations and jealousies will disappear. So too, your hopes, dreams, plans, and to-do lists will expire.

The wins and losses that seemed so important will fade away. It won’t matter where you came from, or on what side of the tracks you lived.

It won’t matter if you were beautiful or brilliant, and your gender and skin color will be irrelevant.

So what will matter? How will the value of your days be measured?

What will matter is not what you bought, but what you built.

Not what you got, but what you gave.

What will matter is not your success, but your significance.

It is not what you learned, but what you taught.

What will matter is every act of integrity, compassion, or sacrifice, that empowered, enriched, and encouraged others to emulate your example.

What will matter is not your competence, but your character.

It will not matter how many people you knew, but how many people will feel a lasting loss when you’re gone.

What will matter is not your memories, but the memories that live in those that loved you.

What will matter is how long you will be remembered and for what.

Living a life that matters doesn’t happen by accident. It is a matter of choice.

I’ve Created a New Blog Called “In The Trenches”

July 14, 2012 | Julie Hall

I’ve just created another blog called “In the Trenches: THE Alzheimer’s Support Blog for Caregivers.” You are welcome to join with us! Please let your friends know about this if they need a community for Alzheimer’s caregivers. The more people who participate, the greater the support and blessing for all.

alzheimercaregiver.wordpress.com

Here’s what I wrote in the Welcome on my new blog:

I am a daughter whose parent is afflicted with Alzheimer’s. This blog will be a blessing for many. My goal is for this to become our personal respite for those days when we’ve bitten off more than we can chew, or we can’t handle one more thing without bursting. For those moments where the next straw will actually break the camel’s back, we just need a haven to rest a weary mind and a heavy heart.

I wanted to create this for all of you out there who need a place to just let it all hang out, myself included. I encourage you to write in and leave comments, stay tuned, be touched, and watch our conversations flow. You are not alone!

I don’t know who you are or where you are from, but I do know the path you are on — the same path millions of us are on. We put so much love, compassion, time, and energy into the care and understanding of this disease that I’ve decided it’s time for us to have a place where we can be ourselves and share.

I hope and pray this finds your heart, as it did mine. Here’s to the renewal of our spirits and solace for our souls. God bless us all, everyone!

A Lesson in Humility

June 25, 2012 | Julie Hall

Oh, how we all wish we had more money! Most of us are watching our money more closely, using coupons, and buying at good sales. There are some who spend in a thrifty manner and some who buy at high retail. Think for a moment, how blessed we are to hat least have money to buy the things we need. For the purpose of this blog, let us forget about the things we want, and concentrate on what we need.

My daughter and I spent time this weekend in a large homeless shelter that serves breakfast to about 250 homeless men. We were the new volunteers, and initially felt a bit awkward in this new environment. I think we also arrived with a “preconceived” notion of what to expect. Visions of dirty people from the street lying around, passed out from drugs and alcohol, filled my head. I silently wondered why so many of them were there and why they couldn’t get their lives together. Still, I wanted to give back and help instill in my daughter a sense of community and an understanding that not everyone is as fortunate.

About 20 volunteers buzzed around, each having a special job “behind the counter” setting up the food, juice, cups, trays, etc. I immediately sensed a hesitation for people to cross that line and be out front where the homeless people were getting lined up for breakfast. This hesitation, whether on a conscious or subconscious level, added to my trepidation about going out there and serving coffee among them — with my very attractive daughter in a room full of homeless men. This was concerning to me, but they needed two volunteers, and since no one came forth, it seemed life was pointing the way for us to do it. So, off we went to our new adventure. My teenage daughter and I went out there and served coffee and water to these men.

I expected these men not to maintain eye contact and was forewarned of this possibility. I expected them to take the food and coffee and run. I expected them to look down on us because we were “rich” to them. I expected bad attitudes and resentment. I expected my daughter to be creeped out and never want to return.

Boy, was I wrong. I suddenly found myself choked by both my own toxic thoughts, as well as humility that smacked me in the head. I was instantly humbled by their genuine “Thank you” and “We appreciate what you do for us.” I also heard “God bless you” and “Have a nice day.” Sure, I heard a few grumbles and complaints, but such is human nature. Not only was I forced to eat a piece of humble pie at that moment, but much like the Grinch, I could feel my heart grow three times as large.

And a miracle occurred as well. My teenage daughter, who is a good girl but rather “prickly” at times, smiled from ear to ear at an older man who told her to stay sweet. She told him, “Have a nice day. Sir!” I hadn’t seen her that animated and involved in a long time. And miracle #2? She can’t wait to go back! Wonders never cease.

This Part of Life Doesn’t Come With An Instruction Manual

June 4, 2012 | Julie Hall

I fell to pieces last night … literally an unrecognizable, weepy being frozen in my bathroom. My husband heard my sobs over his ever-increasing TV volume and shoot ’em up Army movie, so I must have really let it all hang out. To his credit and excellent nature, he came to comfort me without saying a word, understanding the pain inflicted on this lovely family.

I always thought I was incredibly strong, but when the realization hits that you are helpless against a loved one’s disease, there is no pain quite like it.

My dad is battling Alzheimer’s and he is losing. I can see it now and the heartbreak is almost more than I can bear. He answers the door when the telephone rings, pushes buttons on the telephone to lower the volume on the TV, and just fell last week and broke his nose. There’s more, but I won’t bore you. Dad is still exceptionally conversational and cares for himself very well. He’ll talk on virtually any topic, but politics and gardening seem to be his favorites.

Recently, for what seemed like an eternity but only took a few seconds in reality, he forgot that I was his daughter. Then a moment later, he caught himself. That is the first time that ever happened. I somehow managed to keep a poker face only through the grace of God, I’m sure, then managed to walk out to my car where I promptly called my brother and let it all hang out again.

I am not complaining. I am hurting. I hurt for dad who never deserved this horrid affliction. I hurt for him because he is in the stage where he knows something is amiss; it seems like a hellish limbo to me. Truth be known, I hurt for all the people out there that have this disease, and for all of us that are dealing with it on a daily basis. “It must be the work of the devil,” I told my husband. “He must be in such a lonely place.”

On the one hand, I praise the doctors for knowing as much as they do and helping as much as they can. On the other hand, I curse them because they don’t know enough. My mom made her exit from life rapidly, and I am seeing what a blessing that was.

As with anything negative, it is the wise who will turn it into something positive. Because of this life experience, I can now add another dimension to my work as The Estate Lady: assisting my clients who are also dealing with this same issue. I can most definitely relate, and now I can comfort them too. It has long been said that in comforting others, you also will be comforted. I certainly hope so. I feel another book coming on. I’m open to title suggestions ….

Beware of Snowballing Family Lore

May 7, 2012 | Julie Hall

I would be a rich woman if I had a dollar for every time I heard a family member tell the story of an heirloom in which the story gets bigger and better with every telling. It’s like the old parable, “The fish that got away was THIS big …” and every time the story is told, the fish miraculously gets bigger.

So too is the challenge we professionals have with discussing and valuating family heirlooms. I visit clients in their homes and enjoy each of them and listening to their stories. However, I know what the values really are, regardless of the verbal family stories. The hard part for me, and for the client, is providing proof that the following really took place: “Did you know Abraham Lincoln sat in that chair?” “This belt buckle belonged to Robert E. Lee.” “Our grandmother told us Teddy Roosevelt took a picture with daddy, but we don’t know where that picture went.” We know what these items are worth on a monetary level, but you can’t place a value on sentimentality. Sentimentality is priceless and in the mind of the beholder.

Could some of these family stories actually be true? Perhaps they are, but without provenance, or history of the piece (proof of some kind, like a photo of Abraham Lincoln really sitting in that chair), it leaves a question mark and is difficult to valuate. Without proof, we can only appraise what we see based on its’ characteristics.

I look back into my experiences with all kinds of families and wonder why most people seem to exaggerate about old possessions. Here’s what I came up with:

It’s their version of the truth as they see it.
For attention. (I have something special.)
To accentuate the positive.
To make the mundane more exciting.

Maybe Abraham Lincoln did sit in that chair. Or maybe he sat in one just like it and that’s how the story got convoluted. Someone heard what they wanted to hear, and generations of tongues did the rest.

I don’t want you to be disappointed when you go to sell these items and the prices brought don’t match the stories behind the piece. If your items mean that much to you, hold on to them and do your best to research the history of that piece for generations to come.

If I Only Knew Then, What I Know Now

April 30, 2012 | Julie Hall

Over 20 years ago while sitting at my corporate desk, I had this crazy idea that if I was going to work this hard for them, I might as well work that hard for myself. I kept thinking, “Julie, how can you even think of this? You must be off your rocker to consider leaving the reliability of a paycheck and benefits.” But it was like a lightning bolt from the sky – an intense thought that grabbed hold of this young woman at the exuberant age of 28, and it never let go.

From that day to this, I feel compelled to share with everyone reading these words, that if I had a chance to do it all over again, I wouldn’t change a thing. It was the right decision, and honestly comes with zero regret. However, it was not an easy road. In fact, there was no road at all in my chosen field. Therefore, I found myself at an instant crossroad before I even took my first step. Do I move forward into the abyss, not knowing what I am doing, and make a road for others to follow one day? Or should I turn around and stay in a job that I didn’t care for, with a steady paycheck? As it turned out, I discovered I am an excellent bulldozer and I paved my way through.

To fulfill your purpose, your calling, it takes great strength and stamina. More than that, it takes tenacity of the spirit, a positive mindset when you feel like crumbling and crying (yes, it will happen), and the ability to get back up when you were just knocked down.

As a mother, when my daughter was learning to walk and she stumbled and fell, I would encourage her to get right back up immediately, brush herself off, and go on to her next adventure. Such is life. Get right back up and no matter what, keep moving forward. Throughout the years, there have been many times I related myself to the hamster that jumped on the wheel with lots of vigor, but never really ended up anywhere. Looking back, I actually was going somewhere, but I couldn’t see it at the time.

Here, in a nutshell, I share with you the most important lessons I have learned as a woman, and in building my dream:

Don’t ever let anyone tell you that you can’t do it. You can and will find a way. People who normally say things like that can be a bit envious of your spirit, or perhaps live with regret themselves. It’s also possible that they just don’t understand it.
If you don’t try, you will always wonder what “could have been.” Avoid living with regret and guilt by trying your best. Nothing bad can ever come from trying.
When you come to a crossroad in your life, always go with your gut instinct. Our heads often get in the way of what our gut already knows. My gut has never lied to me. Tune into it, listen attentively, and keep moving. Look how many times it took Thomas Edison to get it right!
Stay the course. So you have stumbled and what you had planned isn’t working. Assess what went wrong, temporarily step back and ask, ask, and ask again until the answers come. Sometimes the answers come from an unexpected source.
Figure out what makes you different. What are your special gifts? Are you using them? If not, get to it and watch happiness seep in.
To thine own self, be true. Thank you, Mr. Shakespeare. Speak your mind, communicate openly, and never, ever sell your soul to the dark side.
Identify what it is you want to do with your life. I am an estate professional who specializes in personal property. Do I just sell people’s stuff? No, I sell a solution. Solve their problem, lighten their load, and I can guarantee you a successful outcome. What you want to do is make a difference and make it count.
Follow through with passion and tenacity. If you have an idea, run with it. Don’t flop over on the sofa because you don’t know how to get started. Just take the first step.
Be the best at what you do. If you are going to do something like start a business, or volunteer, or take a new job … do your best. Mom always said, “If you’re going to plant a tree, plant it straight.”
Always look forward and never look back. Ever notice how some people live in the past and seem to get stuck there? It’s ok to visit the past and learn from what went wrong, but then turn it into a positive, so it works to your benefit.
For every problem you encounter, there is a solution.
Always be kind, courteous, and compassionate. Kindness gets noticed because so few people actually practice it.

What We Find Left Behind

March 12, 2012 | Julie Hall

It’s always an eye-opening experience working in estates after the children have taken what they want and allow us to handle the remainder. You just never know what you will find left behind.

Sometimes, we just find what you would expect, the items that should have been discarded 40 years ago – broken items from the attic, old appliances, clothing that needs to be donated, etc. Other times, we find items that have value and we arrange to have them sold for the family. And on occasion, we find items that leave us scratching our heads, or items that we can never speak of and promise to take that information to our graves.

We see it all: the love, the fights, the estrangements, the addictions, the sorrows, the secrets – all of which are carried through our lifetimes.

It is difficult to put into words when you find war medals of courage and valor left on the floor for disposal, or antique photos of people in the family that have been left in a pile for us to discard. But we understand that every person has a story and we are not privy to their upbringing or lives, and therefore do not understand why they made the decisions they did.

Recently we found letters dating from the Civil War period, of a soldier who wrote home to his sister. He wrote of the horrible conditions, how most of his comrades had died from dysentery, and that there wasn’t enough food to keep the soldiers strong. He spoke of having no warmth through the winter months, but described it in such a way that he was not complaining. It was fascinating to hear of life so long ago from a person who lived during those times, but the family took no interest.

Other things we find are scrapbooks, war letters between mom and dad, family Bibles with genealogy information inside the front cover, diaries, estate jewelry, guns, etc.

I guess it’s true what they say. Beauty really is in the eye of the beholder, and one cannot predict what is in a person’s heart during such difficult times.