Showing posts with label young widowhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label young widowhood. Show all posts

Thursday, October 13, 2011

A little bit of motivation




A few years ago, I was hired to edit a book called You Will Overcome by Minesh Baxi. It is a book of stories of people who overcame obstacles in their life and followed their dreams. My own story is on page 176, just a few short pages from Oprah Winfrey's story. It was written during my humble beginnings with this blog, so my life as Green Grandma is not mentioned. But it is a story intended to motivate and inspire and I thought you might enjoy reading it.



The Up Side of Upside Down

by Hana Haatainen Caye



The ringing phone roused me from my sleep. It was 2:45 a.m.

“Jim’s been hurt and is being taken to West Penn Hospital,” a familiar voice said.

“Why? What happened?” I asked, sitting up in bed and turning on the light.

“There was a fire and he got burned.”

“Where?” By now my heart was waking up and starting to race.

Doug, his co-worker and best friend, tried to avoid my question.

WHERE was he burned?” I demanded.

“Well…it’s nothing more than bad sunburn,” he lied. “Life Flight’s taking off now. I’ll see you at the hospital.”

“Wait,” I panicked. “Life Flight? They’re flying him to West Penn. Oh god, Doug, how bad is this? You have to tell me. Where was he burned?”

He hesitated before answering. “Pretty much all over his body.”

Before I left the house after making arrangements for my five-year-old and seven-year-old daughters, the phone rang again. This time it was a nurse calling from the Burn Unit.

“Your husband wants to talk to you,” she said softly.

“Then he can’t be hurt that bad.” Hope started rising in my chest.

“I’ll let him talk to you.”

“Hana?” Jim’s voice was strained. “I love you. I’ll see you in Heaven.”

“No,” I screamed. “Don’t you leave me!”

“I’ll try to hang on…for you and the girls.”

Those were his last words to me. My 34-year-old husband suffered third degree burns over 98% of his body and lived in that condition for 23 long, but way too short, hours.

As I left the hospital, I felt numb. Nothing would ever be the same for me again. I went from being a stay-at-home mom, who loved her husband and the life they’d made together, to a 32-year-old widow. What was I going to do?

The years passed. I married another wonderful man who embraced my girls as if they were his own. We bought a beautiful house and lived comfortably on his income coupled with the Social Security I received for my daughters.

Even though graduation was looming for both of them, I kept ignoring the ramifications of losing the S.S.I. once they were done with school. It always seemed ‘so far away.’

When graduation day one and two finally arrived and I no longer was bringing in an income, I knew I had to do something. Working part-time as a floral designer, I realized I’d have to find a more substantial way of making a living. Scanning the Internet, I discovered the world of mystery shopping, merchandising and auditing. As an independent contractor, I was able to set my own hours and thoroughly enjoyed the flexibility of my new ‘career.’

In January 2005, after a rather dismal year financially, I decided to pursue a full-time writing and voice-over business. Gas prices were rising, the wear and tear on my car was starting to take its toll and the mystery shopping industry was becoming saturated with shoppers. One cold winter night, I decided to join a couple of websites featuring freelance opportunities. I named my company Speechless, developed a tag line – I put words in your mouth! – and started bidding on projects. The next morning I woke to discover I’d been awarded four of them; one being a voice-over project. The problem was I didn’t even own a microphone!

“I need to buy the best microphone you have,” I told the salesperson at a local electronics store. He led me down the aisle and handed me a $34.99 mic that plugged directly into my laptop. It worked well enough for me to complete that project and many more in the next six months or so. It wasn’t until a client asked me what kind of mic I was using that I realized it was time to upgrade. Eight hundred dollars later, I felt like a pro.

Immersed in a business I love, I am able to use my talents, and my college education, in a way I’ve never been able to do before. My voice-over work ranges from simple voicemail and on hold messages to audio books and eLearning modules. Sometimes I need to sound like a business professional; other times like a little girl. I’ve voiced animations, book trailers, television and radio commercials, and nearly everything in between…all without ever having to leave my home.

The writing part of my business has led to my leading a local writer’s group and teaching workshops at writer’s conferences and other venues. One of my workshops is titled, Inspiring Others: How to turn your true stories into cash and as a result, I’ve been thrilled to see some participants in my classes have their work accepted for publication.

In 2007, Bill Hyman contracted me to work as an editor/ghostwriter for Chicken Soup for the Network Marketer’s Soul. I was privileged to interview or rework stories from some fascinating and resilient people.

Every day for me is different, which can be challenging at times. But having created the opportunity to pursue work I love makes everything worthwhile.

Here are the main characteristics I think you need in order to turn things around in your life:

• Resiliency – the ability to bounce back when life doesn’t go as planned.
• Tenacity – the drive to keep going and not give up.
• Creativity – the power to re-create yourself and your career.
• Flexibility – the willingness to alter your plan when it is not working.
• Curiosity – the need to discover and learn new things.

It’s been 20 years since the phone call that turned my life upside down. As painful as it was, I’ve come to realize that upside down isn’t always a bad thing…not when we’re given the tools to build around whatever it is that life has handed us.

©2009

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Thirty-one years ago yesterday

It was hot thirty-one years ago yesterday. Really, really hot. As I stood in the front of the church listening to the worst wedding talk ever (I don't even know what that's called), I remember a steady stream of sweat working its way all the way down my spine. By the time the wedding was over, I was soaked!

Because my husband was raised Catholic and his uncle was a priest, we were told he would deliver the message, even though the ceremony was in the un-air conditioned Lutheran church where I grew up. When I say it was the worst wedding talk ever, I mean it. And I have a cassette tape to prove it. Midway through, I was ready to call the whole wedding off and leave (to go somewhere cool, no doubt). But I'd already stood on the balcony, before walking down the aisle, and surprised my groom by singing One Hand, One Heart and it would seem hypocritical of me to back out after such a song of prayer and promise.

Besides, my Jewish friend, Laura, began the service with other songs of God's and our love, including a traditional Hebrew blessing, All Good Gifts from Godspell (a show Laura and I did together the previous year) and Through the Eyes of Love from Ice Castles. Backing out would just be wrong.

However, red flags went up as soon as the priest opened his mouth, botching the pronunciation of my name and then calling my husband-to-be by the wrong last name!!! I kid you not. It went downhill from there.

"It was the passion of love that brought you together. But will passion last? I doubt it." Seriously?

"Up until now, you've only seen each other at your finest," he droned, "but one day you'll wake up and see each other as you truly are ... warts and all. Will your love survive that?"

I told you it was the worst ever!

To say that Jim's family did not like me is an understatement. After all, I was not Catholic. And I'd had a baby out-of-wedlock and given her up for adoption. I certainly was not the dream bride for their Jimmy. Despite them, we married and worked on having a happy life together. Because of them, it was a rocky road.

I personally have not experienced as much evil as I experienced with my former in-laws, from the molestation of one of my daughters when she was two-years-old and the subsequent accusal of me being the molester (in order to frame my mother-in-law), to the stealing of my husband's life insurance after his death, and so much more. You see, our marriage only lasted eight years, not because we were unable to survive the attacks on it, but because Jim was unable to survive the chemical flash fire that left him with third degree burns on 98% of his body.

His father was a life insurance agent who, after Jim switched the beneficiary on his policy to me, purposefully did not send the paperwork in to the company. I have letters from my former father-in-law stating his reasons why he did this, none of which are acceptable. After Jim died, his parents collected the $200,000 and refused to give it to me unless I agreed to award them partial custody of my children. Excuse me?? What mother in her right mind would agree to allow her children to go stay in a home where one of them had her insides ripped up by pens stuck inside her by her grandmother?? Let me tell you, I was a grieving mother who was not in her right mind, and I still refused the offer. My children were not for sale.

As a legal battle ensued and the threat of losing my children loomed, I was well-prepared to leave the country to protect my daughters. That's what mothers do.

Why am I sharing all of this? Perhaps because it's been bottled up inside of me for way too long. My late husband's parents have since passed, taking with them their twisted secrets.

I survived. My girls not only survived, as well, but thrived. Despite the many struggles they had to overcome, they are remarkable young women who are the source of my greatest pride. We had a rough road to walk, but we made it. God blessed us with an amazing man to come alongside us as a husband and incomparable father. I cannot imagine our life without him.

So, as I reflect on that wedding day thirty-one years ago yesterday, I have such mixed feelings. I had no idea what was ahead for us, as none of us do. My husband died the most horrific of deaths, which I had no way of predicting on that hot day in June when I stood looking down at him singing these words:

Make of our hands, one hand
Make of our hearts, one heart
Make of our vows one last vow
Only death will part us now.

Sharing my heart,

Hana

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