Posts filed under ‘grief’
July 3rd- NO LIMITS- Chapter 6 – Chris Ritchey
No Limits- The book
Forward: https://thatwoman.wordpress.com/2020/01/02/jan-3rd-no-limits-the-forward-chris-ritchey/
Chapter One :https://thatwoman.wordpress.com/2020/02/03/feb-3rd-no-limits-chapter-1-chris-ritchey/
Chapter Two:https://thatwoman.wordpress.com/2020/03/03/march-3rd-no-limits-
Chapter Three: https://thatwoman.wordpress.com/2020/04/03/april-3rd-no-limits-chapt-3-chris-ritchey/
Chapter Four: https://thatwoman.wordpress.com/2020/05/03/no-limits-chapter-4-chris-ritchey/
Chapter Five: https://thatwoman.wordpress.com/2020/06/03/june-3rd-no-limits-chapter-5-chris-ritchey/
If the night before at the Rehearsal Dinner was hot , the day of the wedding dawned humid and hotter. I don’t handle heat and no sleep at the best of times, and this definitely wasn’t a good time. For the sake of my children and family I tried so hard to act cheerful and excited, all the while with this great lump of concrete in my gut and a dread of things to come. I can only liken this feeling to having the overwhelming feeling /intuition by getting on to a plane and knowing it will crash. I knew the prognosis for Chris form of cancer Hodgkin’s Lymphoma was excellent, 95 percent cure rate, ” if you had to have cancer this is the one you would want” a few rounds of chemo and a couple of treatments of radiation and you will be fine.
BUT then why did everything in my mind scream at me there is a world of hurt coming our way ……?
artwork Chris Ritchey
THE WEDDING
I knew that Chris would be putting on a brave face, he had a round of chemo on the Thursday and it usually caught up with him by the Saturday, and here he was having to go through a horrendously busy morning, afternoon and evening. I knew he would not let on how he was dealing and feeling with all the poisons coursing through his body. He was so particular when it came to Nikki’s wedding in regard to his tuxedo, having to make a special trip to the tailor to have it adjusted the day before. Nana and Chris at Nikki’s Wedding
Chris had lost weight with the cancer and chemo and his tux was too big, but he didn’t seem to care, not at all like Chris, but then he had more on his plate to worry about.
The wedding at St. Mary’s Catholic Church officiated by Father Daniel Divis , Chris had refused the usual Catholic protocol to get married in the church , and he was allowed to do so probably due to the cancer diagnosis and the Father Divis “relationship” he had with the Lombardis.
I sat in that church , not being very enamored with organized religion as a bit of a hypocrite, but it was Chris and Angela’s day , it was her faith and she was very in touch with her faith. My husband and mother and I sat there “together but alone” .
The ceremony over , and I couldn’t hear a word, but then Angela always made me feel like I was deaf, so soft spoken was she. I had spent the morning putting together a small cooler bag for Chris and the wedding party ( mainly for Chris) to take in the limo. It had cold water , some snacks he could eat after chemo , and some cool cloths as his body temps rose after chemo set in.
Wedding over I came home showered and cried until it was time to put on the “face” again for the reception. No matter how I tried I just could not get out of this terrible feeling like some darkness was going to envelop me.
Oh ! this happy day could only get worse heat wise when the air-conditioning at the Holiday Inn failed. However, as bad as that was as I went to the gifts table to put our check in for the Bride and Groom , not a “wishing well” or a cute little decorated box but a “casket ” with flowers on the top courtesy of Sue Lombardi ‘WHAT WAS THE WOMAN THINKING – WAS THIS APPROPRIATE” Was I being overly sensitive? although the comments from my friends they too were shocked and my mother was furious.
” I knew as soon as I saw that coffin on the table it would hurt you Loraine”
The wedding although apparently enjoyed by others left me flat especially when Father Divis reacted to the best man’s speech, I wrote about it afterward , (at the time I did not mention his name BUT of course now in that blog post he is mentioned )as I was shocked , although this man of God would shock me later after the death of my son to my core !
“This was brought home over the weekend ( and I can take a joke better that a lot of people) . A speech that bordered on not only the insulting ( for me )cultural racism by a priest (Daniel O. Divis – Office of the Secretariat)who insulted every English person and non catholic at a function. He spoke of Ulster and Northern Ireland in a way that for those of us who lived through the bombings and were directly effected by the IRA and the terrorism THEY inflicted upon a population both Irish and English , that was financed primarily from this side of the Atlantic was akin to making jokes about 911. Would you tolerate jokes about 911?
So what makes it OK for a pseudo “Irish” priest of Lorain to make the jokes and insult a group of people because they are “English”? A fellow diner said it is just ignorance of the situation– I beg to differ any Catholic Priest who claims Irish lineage KNEW exactly what he was saying, which to me makes it all the more disgraceful – am I wrong??????
You tell me when is it ok for terrorism to be lauded and applauded and when is it abhorred – is it OK to make derogatory remarks as long as it is based on culture and then only one certain segment of the population’s culture – Is it Ok to do this based on culture and not colour???
Although I did have a “word” with the man- I am sure it fell on deaf ears…… So when is it OK – tell me???? because I find this grey area very confusing ?
https://thatwoman.wordpress.com/2008/06/08/when-is-it-ok/
AND THIS SPEECH WAS AT A “wedding”
We got through the wedding and reception,. The Mother/ Son dance was one of the toughest things I knew I had very little control left and as we danced ( and I told Chris ( who was always my confidant) I may need Nikki and his dad to help me through. He understood , he knew me so well and we were always upfront with one another. So when I was becoming “emotionally incontinent” halfway through the dance he signaled to Nikki and his dad to join us on the floor as a group. ( that did not go down too well with the Lombardi clan) .
My husband , mother and I left at a reasonable time just after the first guests were leaving. I told Chris Nana was tired but he knew and he by this time was physically showing the effects of a very long day and the poisonous chemo. I wanted to gather my child up and make him well , but all this was now out of my hands , he was a married man now!
The next day was “come over ( to the Lombardis) and look at the presents” day , we had company so I stayed with them . The next thing I remember was Chris coming round the corner with the casket under his arm with his Best Man. I said
what are you doing here?
He said:
Sue Lombardi and her mother were anxious to open up the “box” to see how much money they received
and he said
No! he and Angela would do that later .. I don’t want them knowing our business and who gave what so I have brought it here to stop their prying . . Turns out there was no check from the Lombardis in that casket,
Angela said : ” they paid for the wedding”
HA! thanks to their “bar arrangements” we paid more to the Holiday Inn for the drinks etc. than they paid for the wedding, and I know that how ? The wedding planner lady was so frustrated with them and their way of ordering her about she told me and actually gave me a discount on the total bar bill.
And so the next weeks came and went all too quickly.
To be continued …..
No LIMITS – Chapter 4- Chris Ritchey
No Limits- The book
Forward: https://thatwoman.wordpress.com/2020/01/02/jan-3rd-no-limits-the-forward-chris-ritchey/
Chapter One :https://thatwoman.wordpress.com/2020/02/03/feb-3rd-no-limits-chapter-1-chris-ritchey/
Chapter Two:https://thatwoman.wordpress.com/2020/03/03/march-3rd-no-limits-
Chapter Three: https://thatwoman.wordpress.com/2020/04/03/april-3rd-no-limits-chapt-3-chris-ritchey/
I watched out the window as my son’s car drew up outside and he walked slowly to the house. He no longer had that bounce of youth, he walked like an old man with the weight of the world crashing down on him. He had started out that day on a journey of hope, love and a wedding and returned with a diagnosis of obscenity.
He just reached the living room when Nikki flew in the door, her face full of confusion and pain, mirroring her brothers. Jim, her husband standing there not knowing what to say or do, my husband sitting in the chair in shock. Chris trying to reassure us that it could be wrong
“they said his blood counts were all in the normal range so maybe it wasn’t as bad as we were told- they were going to have to do more tests”.
Angela was on her way to the house. I put my faith in the fact she was a going to be a doctor, maybe she could make sense out of what we were being told. Maybe she could find out more than we could.
Angela and Chris went into the den, not to discuss a bright wedding and future but “cancer”. I sat on the couch Nikki and my husband looking to me to sort this out” because that is what I do – I fix things , I have a plan, I see a way through only this time my brain was numb , I was at a loss. Chris came out of the den and sat on the bottom landing of the stairs, Angela beside him. No one said anything, no way forward, no plans just this terrible pall that enveloped us.
Then some small talk which ensued about Chris’ dog, Misty, those that loved Chris trying to erase the obscenity with normalcy. I just couldn’t be “brave” any longer pretending this was just another afternoon sitting there in this surreal world. I knew I would crumble and I had to leave the living room and escape from the “living” room of horror it had become.
I lay on my bed, the silence from below deafening, trying to sort through all the fear, the uncertainty , trying to figure out what I needed to do. Nothing was penetrating except the word CANCER in my brain. Cancer became my world in that moment, it threw up its own walls around me. Then , Chris was there – he put his hand on my shoulder and said
“Mum it will be OK”
I remember saying Oh Chris I am so scared. As soon as I said it I realized I was being selfish. This was not about me , this was about my beautiful son, who just had the worst news in the world and he was , as he had done so many times before, putting his family before himself. I
felt guilty because whatever I was feeling he was the one who would have to fight this obscenity. I must put aside and cover my own terror , to be there no matter what for my son, he needed to be first and foremost , I couldn’t do anything about what treatments were needed and what he would have to go through but I would do whatever was needed to see he got whatever it was he needed to survive. I could be his mother and put my son first. I felt relief, his bride- to- be seemed as if she would be supportive and with her knowledge of the medical options. He had his sister, who would move heaven and earth for him, he would have a support group of love to see him through. I would wait for the results of the tests and once more my brain started to function.
The tests, the diagnosis, doctors’ visits and the treatment began as did the days of hope and horror as the “curable cancer Hodgkin’s Lymphoma invaded my son’s body and our world. Initially the obscenity was treated as “Oh if you have to have cancer this is the one you want” 4 to 6 chemo treatment spot radiation and you will be fine – 95% cure rate. The prognosis was excellent, just a small bump in the road of life.
I walked into the “chemo “ room that first day- March 13th 2008 , I had driven Chris and Angela to South Pointe Hospital ( an hour’s drive from home) to start his treatment after meeting with Dr.Abraksia who was chosen by his bride- to -be , Angela.
The decision made sense at the time, Angela would be doing her residency at South Pointe, and the hospital was in the Cleveland Clinic System. When Chis and Angela married in a couple of months’ time they would be living in the vicinity. I convinced myself this was a good idea. I, at the time, admired this young woman, Angela, she would be supportive and seemed to take the diagnosis in stride, she seemed calm and cool whereas I was being consumed by fear, panic and doubt. Perhaps it was her faith, as well as her medical knowledge, that enabled her to be so cool. I know that was one of things my son admired in her was her “coolness” and quiet voice.
Close up of Intravenous drip
As I crossed the room, where half a dozen “elderly people” were hooked up to IV’s ,I saw my son- poison’s flowing into his body to kill the invader. I wanted to pull the needles from him, gather him up and run away from this place, he shouldn’t be here my mind screamed at me. Instead I sat with him for a little time. The first chemo was going to take all afternoon, I couldn’t bear watching the slow drip of poisons, so I drove the hour home, had Angela call me when they were about an hour from finishing and drove back to pick them up to drive home again. I had to do something I just couldn’t sit by watching destruction being pumped into my son, for chemo destroys the bad and the good.
That night, as I worried about my son, listening for his every move as he tried to sleep in the room across the landing from me. I remembered how many nights I had spent when he was a baby, getting up three or four times just to make sure he was breathing , alert even in sleep to hear the faint whimper or cry of your new born. Yet not daring to disturb him, I had had to be a positive for his sake. Finally sleep came.
Angela , Sue and Tim Lombardi
I did not know Angela’s family well, although Chris and Angela had dated for a few years, both were in college, and living away from home. We, as families, did not have much of an occasion to socialize. However, at the engagement celebration I realized the mother, Sue Lombardi , was not a person that I would embrace and that my son would have a “mother in law” who controlled and was self-promoting . Well his problem I thought, little did I know she would end up my problem.
I awoke in the early morning hours of that first night after chemo, shaking, gasping for breath. I had a dream; it was so real.
I was in a room, in the middle of the room was an open casket in which lay my son and around this casket was Angela, her mother and father and family. I was drenched in sweat and tears, the realization it was a nightmare slowly came to the front of my mind.
I crept, as quietly as I could, into my son’s room to check on him – he was awake.
“You alright mum?”
I said:
yes just wondering if I can get you anything?
Some cold water would be nice, this stuff is warm–
a smile and the beginning of a pretense way of dealing- I would check on his “water needs” I would be reassured he was alright and the game of pretending began, both of us knowing “ I was awake – do you need some water/ juice?” was not the real reason for my “checking in”.
The next day , I opened up my terror to my good friend Barb, I broke down when she called to check on how we were, Christopher was her godson I tried the small talk but blurted out
“ Barb I am going to watch my son die”
A very definite Barbara firmly stated:
Pull yourself together, the prognosis is great, don’t be silly, you have to put those thoughts from you for Chris’s sake – he will be fine.
And so I tried, all through those weeks of chemo, to push aside the negative thoughts that would creep into my head; but still the dream came back to haunt of Angela and her family standing around the casket.
E. Munch- 1895
The wedding plans continued and I tried to be normal, but the doubt and dream tore at m. I wear my heart on my sleeve, always have done, I am not good at hiding my emotions and thoughts…..
To be continued
March 3rd – NO LIMITS- Chapt 2 – Chris Ritchey
NO LIMITS-The Book
https://thatwoman.wordpress.com/2020/01/02/jan-3rd-no-limits-the-forward-chris-ritchey/
https://thatwoman.wordpress.com/2020/02/03/feb-3rd-no-limits-chapter-1-chris-ritchey/
I find this rehashing of “life” and the connection with the Lombardi family and my son’s choice of a life partner very difficult to bring back to light in my life and write. I wish I could file all those memories and people away in some dark corner never to be thought of again. However, in order for those that read this “book” as it will be ( after it has been serialized here) to fully understand the emotions, the relationships, the thought processes and the connection to what happened and happens after my son passed , the connections and especially those of Christopher have to be explored. In some cases , with hindsight and indeed some premonition I felt I should have seen a lot of the pain coming.
THE ENGAGEMENT- CHAPTER 2
Although I must admit to some “mother’s reservations” as to the engagement of my son and Angela Lombardi , his sister and I wanted to make this day special.
Chris had said one evening , after he and Nikki had gone to a jeweler friend of Nikki’s husband to design “the ring” – which cost him all of his savings $6,000.00 –
“Mum you helped Jim ( Nikki’s husband) find a special place for him to ask Nikki to marry him, you have to help me too”
Nikki and I set about searching the internet, making suggestions, all of which were not what Chris felt were right. Finally I said ….
“How about the top of the Lorain Lighthouse”? I am not sure if I can arrange that , but I can try to contact some of the people at the Lighthouse Foundation”
At that time the Lorain Lighthouse was still undergoing repairs and the top of the Lighthouse was not open to the public. But a few years earlier Chris had been asked to paint the Lighthouse on a shed to be put at the Marina to be used to hand out literature about Lorain. I thought that possibly they might be open to the fact he would like some help in what was supposed to be a happy occasion.
I duly did the contacts and offered to pay for a day’s insurance policy to cover the the event of just the two of them. After a lot of negotiating and Ok’s by the people involved it was a go. The date was set for July 12th. at 2:00 pm. Lighthouse volunteers entered into the excitement. It was arranged, I would meet the little boat earlier in the morning, with the champagne , a table, two wine goblets, checkered red and white table cloth and roses and they would be put at the top of the Lighthouse.
My conspirators cunningly hid them on the far side so Angela wouldn’t see them as she ascended the lighthouse platform. Angela had wanted to go to the zoo that day and was a little annoyed ( I was told later) -my son had an errand to do for me first or so she thought. Chris explained to her that first he had to take some photos for one of my “projects” he told her:
“You know how she is always roping me to do artwork and stuff for her projects- it won’t take long – mum needs some photos of the harbor for the Lorain Bicentennial she is planning next month”
I told Chris that we would meet him and Angela afterwards to celebrate.
Naively I thought to include the Lombardi clan…. my first interaction with these people. I had met them rarely in the past not more than a half dozen time , really never having an in-depth conversation with them. Since we ( “Chris’s family”) had planned to go to the Jacalope – a restaurant that over looks the Marina and the Lighthouse to celebrate after the event for some drinks and food, I thought it might be nice to include the “family of Angela”
I told Chris that we would be at the Jacalope and would watch with the binoculars for the wave of all was well and to have the boat drop them off there afterwards and we would celebrate.
I called the “in laws to be” on the Friday afternoon when it was all the arrangement were set – hoping that weather wouldn’t dampen the day- no it was Sue Lombardi that actually put a damper on the day 
Photo Sue Lombardi .
I must admit to be more than a little taken aback when the “Mother of the Bride to be” stated:
“Oh! we are building a new house and we are scheduled to have the electric done and some painting tomorrow – CAN”T Chris DO THIS ANOTHER TIME!!!”
I thought to myself silly cow- doesn’t she realize this is her daughter’s engagement and getting this arranged has taken days and no little expense” ;
I said
Well surely you could take an hour off- maybe for lunch – we are meeting at the Jacalope to celebrate-
A big sigh from Sue came down the phone :
Oh! this isn’t very convenient…… I will see what we can do
Well said I:
It is up to you but we will be there on the patio…..
and made a note to self – I would not get involved in “the brides mother’s wedding” plans – I could see that we are as different as chalk and cheese . I could tell from that very short conversation things had to be her way and her idea –
Oh Chris! you are in for a time I thought- little did I know it would be me bearing the brunt of the “Control Diva”.
The weather was indeed perfect, arrangements went like clockwork and even the in-laws and some of the family of Angela duly arrived on the patio. The happy couple eventually arrived by boat and Angela was flushed with excitement. One of the aunts expressed a desire to see the ring, and oohs and ahs duly followed however from Sue Lombardi came the concern
“Won’t that get caught up and rip your surgical gloves ( Angela was going to be a doctor)
As the afternoon progressed, I found out that I shouldn’t have relaxed about it being a long engagement they were getting married the next summer in June. Oh dear I thought , must lose weight, how are they going to afford to live Chris hadn’t been offered a position with Wyse advertising , he was still a paid intern but my thoughts soon were sent in another direction.
My daughter, Nikki, who actually had never met Sue Lombardi was cornered in another part of the restaurant by Sue. I should explain Nikki and her husband had just been transferred back to Lorain from Toledo and had just purchased a house. Nikki had taken a break from employment to get things together. Apparently knowing this ( Angela, had lived with my daughter for over a month in Toledo so she could do one of her “rotations”) Sue requested firmly that Nikki would to go with Angela and drive to Philidelphia , stay overnight so Angela could take some medical requirement. It was in a bad part of town apparently and they didn’t want her to go alone.
Nikki was upset, she didn’t want to say no and upset Chris, but neither was she comfortable driving to Philadelphia a distance of 451 miles, ,after talking to her husband , he definitely wasn’t in favor either.
Why doesn’t her mother or father take the day off, they have a large family Why you Nikki? Two women going to a bad part of Philadelphia????
I waited until the Sunday evening to talk to Chris , he didn’t want Angela to driver alone and no-one in her family were prepared to take her, so he had to take two days off of work ( not only unpaid but also he was still on probation at work , so that didn’t bode well) .
( note similar ring in design)
In the meantime on the Monday Nikki called me she was in the middle of tiling a back splash in her new kitchen:
“Angela has called and is angry and upset, apparently one or two of the aunts had gone with Angela to local jewelers to get the engagement ring appraised and the one who did give them an off the cuff appraisal came in at $3,000.00 half of what it was supposed to be worth. They blamed Jim’s friend, Jim and poor Chris had been cheated”
Nikki was beside herself and dropped what she was doing and met Angela at another jewelers but they would not do an appraisal. Chris was furious as Angela had been on the phone crying to him at work.
I, for one, could not believe the crassness of this family and two days later were valuing the ring she had just received. I thought of my own poor little speck of a diamond engagement ring , I didn’t care how much it cost I was so happy.
To solve the situation I asked Chris to bring me the ring . I paid $150.00 dollars for a proper evaluation of the stone and setting . The paperwork came back a week later
Stone..its clarity size etc. was valued at $8,000.00 and the setting designed by Chris in white gold was another $1,800.00 and was deemed to be on the conservative side.
I immediately called Chris , but he still was in a mood , which got darker by the time he came home. He and I had words, the ones you shout. I criticized how this whole situation had come about. He then informed both his sister and I that Nikki had lied, Angela did not call her upset and blaming anyone. This was the first time that Angela tried to come between Chris and his family, in this case Nikki. Nikki said
are you calling me a liar? Why would I lie about something like that….?
Nikki left the house, and she and Chris did not speak for days . Finally, I had enough and another dressing down to my son….. who had by now cooled down- thought about the situation and went to apologize to his sister…
So much for love and happiness.
NOTE: All events and conversations were witnessed and although these events etc are from my perspective and opinions however they are the truth. Loraine Ritchey
Feb 3rd – NO LIMITS- Chapter 1. Chris Ritchey
NOTE: At one point in their relationship Angela told me she had said to Chris, ” Your mother ( Me) will write our love story and you ( Chris) will do the illustrations. Well not exactly the story anyone envisioned.. but the truth!
https://thatwoman.wordpress.com/2020/01/02/jan-3rd-no-limits-the-forward-chris-ritchey/
CHAPTER ONE….
I was married for 8 years before I felt the quickening of a baby beneath my heart, a baby girl whom I cherished and cherish. 3 years and 10 months later a little boy completed our small family. Like countless mothers before me, I would talk to my children as they grew within my body. The day they were born, the moment mother and child were left to one another after all the turmoil of birth, I too, promised them to always love them, protect them and never let anything happen to them. I wish I could put into words the feeling that grabs at your very innards as your child is put into your arms.
Some say that exquisite joy must be compensation for the pain of birth, others will tell you the bond is strengthened by the fact the child’s DNA having passed through the walls of the womb stays with the mother. Therefore, you are always part of your mother’s body. Months of sharing a body, heart and breath of life, there is nothing closer, the sound of a mother’s heartbeat- the lullaby of life. The very life essence that makes each one of individuals shared and a love that knows no limits. All I can tell you is that from that first fluttering of life I was consumed with a love for them that was greater than anything I had previously known.
The bond I shared with my son was different to the one I shared with my daughter. Nikki was so like her father, laid back, non-confrontational and even tempered. Chris, on the other hand, was volatile, passionate, definitely did not suffer fools and loved a good fight. He was more my child. I always knew what would set him off and we had the proverbial test of wills as he was growing up but underneath the clashes of wills he knew I would walk through fire for him and I knew he would do the same for us. The love shared was not on show, it was there and deep rooted.
My little girl and her baby brother soon left childhood days behind, life was normal, school, holidays, hobbies new friends , new loves and yet my daughter Nikki and her brother Chris retained a bond between them that was unbreakable. Nikki was always there for Chris and Chris was always there for Nikki. It wasn’t contrived or for show, they were each other’s sounding board, life line – it was them against the world, if need be.
I would watch them and knew whatever happened to me or their father they would always take care of each other no matter what.
Nikki married, moved out, life went on.
Chris was a student at Cleveland Institute of Art.
Other self by Chris Ritchey
Every weekend he came home and when I say home – he had two, this house where he was born and his sister’s. Nikki’s husband, Jim, became the brother Chris never had.
There was a lot of love and laughter in those years. I knew Nikki would always have Chris in time of need and Nikki would fly to his side no matter what. I relaxed in the notion they would always have each other.
He had been dating a young woman in his last year of High School- Angela Lombardi. She seemed a quiet little thing, I tried to make her welcome when she came for holiday dinners. I always got the feeling we were getting what my mother called the white glove test and that we didn’t measure up to her standards.
photo Angela by Chris Ritchey
Although my son broke up with her for a few weeks in the latter part of 2005 “as she was too clingy and didn’t give him room” they did get back together thanks in part to a conversation I had with him at 4 o’clock in the morning!
He had asked me:
mum what is love ?
We explored, love, the flush of new love and sexual attraction, the role of family and caring. The conversation lasted many hours, a few weeks later Chris renewed the relationship with Angela.
I was happy at the time although the day in June when he came through the door with his sister with “news” – I wasn’t so sure .
I saw the look on Chris and Nikki’s faces that June day- they sat guilty together , after asking their dad to join us in the living room my mind racing, something was up? Finally Nikki said to Chris-
you’d better tell them!
My first thought was Oh God Angela is pregnant- it was that sort of vibe – not such good news coming- I held my breath.
Then Chris said quietly-
Angela wants to get married –
I was stunned, not what I was expecting! Not knowing what to say ‘relief I guess she wasn’t pregnant”
“ Well congratulations, I guess – how about YOU do you want to get married ?
Chris gave a little shrug :
I suppose so –
Worrying to me what he said and didn’t say – this was not the reaction of a young man who was getting engaged.
Chris had just been hired by Wyse Advertising, he had very little money to speak of and was just starting his career.
I said “well you’d better plan on living here to save up for married life.
My thoughts of this is not good timing – my thoughts to the “other mother in the equation” A person I had barely met more that a half a dozen times , and never really had any conversation with her at all. – I asked:
when was the date?
Chris didn’t know and I found myself thinking Sue Lombardi, the mother of Angela, I knew from mutual acquaintances was a controlling individual when it came to Angela – she would surely make it a long engagement .
How many times had Chris ordered flowers on my credit card account to cheer Angela up when the mother, whom they called Mama Sue and Psycho Sue, had upset her for NOT living up to Sue’s standards of achievement? I thought, Sue will not be happy at this and therefore I needn’t worry………..
The engagement – to be continued
Jan 3rd- No Limits- the foreword- Chris Ritchey
I start another decade, recent months have been very hard, some of the situations I have blogged about some may not ever come to light on this blog. I am waiting … I have spent most of December deciding on how to proceed . I am definitely going to “try and finish” the book NO LIMITS as it pertains to my son. Although 10 ish chapters have already been written I have had to decide how to proceed. I have made the decision to not only publish in paperback form eventually but I may start serializing each month on this blog. Here for your edification ( readers who still bear with me ) is the foreword of NO LIMITS!!!!!!
NO LIMITS
By Loraine Ritchey
“Nothing should be hidden or untouchable, if it is your truth and you stand behind it – no one should be able to silence you “
Foreword- NO LIMITS
Brave words from my son, Christopher, on a fall day, his 4th year at Cleveland Institute of Art. I had met him for a meal in Tremont, Ohio. He was so very angry, one of his projects had met with resistance and indeed censorship. His anger and frustration spilled out:
Why were his thoughts not being accepted in a very community that accepts so much more than the general population? Why would he be censored in the very open environment of an art college where nothing it seemed was untouchable?
After all, his fellow students went outside so many politically incorrect boundaries. Had he gone past where even those of his peers were feared to go? Had he come up against the self-imposed limits of a society of his peers?
I never did find out what the project was that caused the censorship and his anger that day. In true Christopher fashion, he changed his project to another, an “Anti-Political Correctness Campaign– complete with displays and posters He used the situation to “speak out” and “show” those who believed themselves to be followers of the out of the box thinking, they were still inside a box, even if the box they had made was larger than most, their walls maybe be transparent yet there were and are walls.
freedom of speech by Chris Ritchey
As I ponder the wisdom of writing the events of life as we know it and death as we believe it to be, I know there will be questions I cannot answer, events I cannot prove.
I am opening myself, my family and my son to a world of naysayers, negativity and ridicule. I will reach the walls with this book. I will push aside and through the walls my peers in this “community” and others have erected for themselves and for me.
Ironically although I have always written the truth whenever I have sat at this keyboard and its predecessors I probably won’t be believed , explanations will abound, logic ( as we perceive things to happen)will come into play .
I have hesitated for months, even years, to tell the story from my self-imposed box. I have written millions of words on my personal blog in the 10 years since my son died. https://www.thatwoman.wordpress.com . I have written his story, I have opened myself and my innermost thoughts and feelings. I have told the tale of cruelty, searing pain and thoughts of suicide. I have exposed myself in ways not many would without fear. So then, why is it I hesitate to share all of our story, a story of continuing love, strength and astonishment?
What could be so dangerous in opening up a world of hurt to my loved ones? Why would a love that continues cause such angst and trepidation in those of my society?
Society? Oh they can’t hurt me, I am beyond their pain, their laughter The sound of laughter to one who rarely laughs is just pleasant echo of what once was. There should be laughter in the world, I do not begrudge laughter or being the source of humor. The disbelief , I don’t care whether they believe or what they believe, so many believe so many different things, worship so many gods, those slings and arrows will not penetrate my being there is an armor in “knowing” The insults and negativity that will come as the story unfolds will bring the comments-
Why not my loved one? Why them? It is the grief, she wants money, she wants her five minutes of fame, and she always was strange. , needs medication, exploiting her son. They are just consumed with grief, hallucinating.
Yes! I can hear those raucous voices, tinged with the cynicism, of organized religion or lack of religious beliefs. So why martyr my family on the pyre of society? Why open this family to those who would wound?
I HAVE to document what happened to this family and my son, for the sake of my daughter, grandsons and future generations. I have to be brave, as my son was brave. I need to tell this story of a mother’s nightmare, of a love that reaches through the barriers of disbelief, of hope. I have the need to document and yet there is a fear my son will once again be negated in death as he was in life by those of “beliefs”.
Every night I see one of my son’s “projects’ from his graphic design course as it hangs framed upon the bedroom wall. It was a small project
Take three words and make the visual connection. Timid- Confidence, Aggressive- coupled with Past, Present and Future to tell a story.
It is the “future” graphic which nags at me, his future was not to be. The cartoon character of a snow boarder explaining his future and the word “aggressive”. I looked at the artwork through tears for weeks as it hung, along with other projects, on the wall. It wasn’t until I looked very carefully one day whilst dusting; I noticed written faintly on the bottom of the snowboard “No limits” and yet I too, have limited the truth by omitting a truth from my writings on my blog..
It is time to tell the story so long in waiting no matter the consequences….
To be continued … Chapter One
Dec 3rd – TIME of our Life- Chris Ritchey
Artwork Chris Ritchey
Every 3rd of the month I write a tribute to you my son , I have written , apart from the other memories of your passing over 120 posts. I write to release the pain that builds, to take the thoughts out of my mind and put them on paper, or in this case on this blog. If I didn’t they would consume me more than they do and I would not get any relief. The tears I shed as I write drop onto the desk and over these many months the varnish has all but gone – a surface worn away by my tears.
https://thatwoman.wordpress.com/category/chris-ritchey/
Other self by Chris Ritchey
How can that be possible? How have 10 years passed? How can that be? You see for most of my nights and days I am back in time , to a time where life and death and selfishness have trapped me, and not only me your father is on this same journey. I dream of you but you always have cancer and I am always searching for a cure or help, then I wake there is a moment of relief that it was just a dream and then I realize I have woken to my nightmare, there was no cure no help… I am in reality……………..
The diagnostic box- self- portrait Chris Ritchey
I am reminded of H.G. Wells and The Time Machine , I feel like the lead character sitting in that machine , only the lever is not controlled by me but by a profound grief, that is stronger than any will of mine. I sit in place in my own device as I watch the world around me go from the future to the present.
photo -self -Chris Ritchey
Every now and then I leave the machine of grief and experience the world of the present, happiness comes , anger comes, passion – very rarely, duty to others is limited and they are the ones I hold most dear. That is why although it is now 10 years this December 3rd. since I last saw your face, kissed your cheek, held your hand and lost ME. No longer Loraine, but a facsimile who left this place when you did . The unbearable is borne tempered by love of your family , sisters, nephews brother in law and father. Deep breaths and the conscious and sub-conscience effort by the brain to hold back the excruciating emotions that wrack the physical body.
Anger at those that through hypocrisy and selfishness ( Tim Sue Lombardi, Angela (Lombardi – Ritchey) and now Murphy – and their family and church ( Father Daniel Divas whose wickedness ( in my opinion) perpetuated and took whatever compassion with them in their act of callousness. not to be forgiven- then or now
https://thatwoman.wordpress.com/2009/12/14/something-wicked-our-way-came/
https://thatwoman.wordpress.com/2010/12/11/december-11th-the-beginning-of-the-beginning/
but that same anger also has kept me upright.
The 10th anniversary marked by the yearly posts of December 3rd and as the new year dawns once again to finally finish the book- NO LIMITS.
Starting a new chapter both literally and figuratively -not the regurgitating of posts- but of your life and presence in the present………..
The Touch- Chris Ritchey
Your words ring through my mind and indeed is part of the forward in the book
“Nothing should be hidden or untouchable, if it is your truth and you stand behind it – no one should be able to silence you “
freedom of speech by Chris Ritchey
https://thatwoman.wordpress.com/2010/12/04/dec-4th-how-cold-is-cold-lombardi/
https://thatwoman.wordpress.com/2011/12/03/december-3rd-chris-ritchey-yesterday/
https://thatwoman.wordpress.com/2012/12/03/december-3rd-the-trilogy-of-tears-christopher-ritchey/
https://thatwoman.wordpress.com/2013/12/03/december-3rd-memorial-chris-ritchey/
https://thatwoman.wordpress.com/2014/12/03/december-3rd-there-is-no-peace-chris-ritchey/
https://thatwoman.wordpress.com/2015/12/03/december-3rd-end-of-days-chris-ritchey/
https://thatwoman.wordpress.com/2016/12/03/dec-3rd-the-loop-chris-ritchey/
https://thatwoman.wordpress.com/2017/12/03/dec-3rd-the-waiting-chris-ritchey/
https://thatwoman.wordpress.com/2018/12/03/dec-3rd-crumbling-walls-chris-ritchey/
My time here in this world grows shorter as the days continue – I have to finish this book and publish – as “truth is definitely the daughter of time” and time is running out…… I love you and miss you every moment of these days and oh so long nights no matter the year I find myself existing……
Nov 3rd – Museum of the Heart- Chris Ritchey
This is an old house, and I am getting old.
I am comfortable in this house because it reminds me of the homes of my family, the people I loved with whom I shared my early years growing up in England.
The fringes on lampshades , large cabbage roses in a vase on the table and on the walls and bedspreads.
Then there was always chintz in the old cottages and especially in my grandmothers’ abodes, the wealthy one especially, along with velvet winter drapes , changed to chintz in the spring I always thought of her living room with silks and overstuffed furniture, brass reflecting the firelight as a bit of an Aladdin’s cave. Yes! due to drafts and no central heating drapes and curtain were changed out from spring and autumn. I used to do that in my younger days, slipcovers going over the couch etc. when summer arrived.
When my mother had to leave her home in England , she brought with her the things she loved. When she finally had to move in with us
https://thatwoman.wordpress.com/2011/09/26/what-are-they-thinking-the-thought-process-stops-here/
We had to clear away a lot of things – six rooms did not go into the two rooms we were able to give her.
Still some of the items she could not bear to give or throw away. Those items that didn’t fit into her new living space had to be introduced to the rest of my house.
One of the reasons I have two antique cocktail cabinets, one a wedding present from my parents and one my father made.
A couple of years ago I featured in a magazine, Pulse.
The writer/photographer came to interview and as she went through the house she exclaimed
OH this is like a museum!!!
To tell the truth I was a little taken aback.
No!.this was my home, yes some of the things are antiques having come down through family, probably not worth a lot but you would find them in most “cottagey type homes” in England.
( Horse Brasses, warming pans , brass or copper kettles and fire fenders ( very useful)
Some things are old not antiques just remembrances of holidays, gifts through the years. Then there are the things my children made or purchased for my birthdays , Mother’s Day etc. and finally your artwork Chris. You work hangs along side , pride of place on the walls with the portrait of the old lady – circa 1785,
and paintings and water colours from your great – great grandfather and great great uncle.
Fairyland painting by Jack Stokes
Oil by Jack Henry Stringer
Nana’s needlework pictures . These are things I love and live with and yes! use everyday and try to dust at least once a week……….. .
Today , as I was thinking about this old house and a “museum piece” I realized that although a few years ago I had decided to de- clutter- out with the old…..life got in the way and your dying – leaving me just your work ,
Breath of Life – Celtic Knot – Chris Ritchey
and then my mum having to spend her last years here and all the things she loved coming with her,. Artwork and items made by my father came with her. The little gifts from Braedyn and Gavin, Nikki I realized in some way it is a museum – this old house– a museum of my heart.
I love you more each day that passes and I am as proud of you as I ever was…. you are still in my heart and home…………
Reaching out- art work- Christopher Ritchey
October 3rd- out of reach- Chris Ritchey
The brief– take a photo of self taking a photo of self……….. and I found that classwork after you passed. I remember, I cried thinking how at that moment in time you were captured on the other side of the window just out of my reach. I feel that still that you are just there , a shadow, just out of my reach ………..
I felt so strongly about the photo I had it made into blank cards. I used them to thank people for all they had done after you died and I sent one , pouring out my heart to the Vatican . I was so confused as to why these “strong faith based Catholics” (Lombardis) and their priest – Father Divas decided to take from your family any semblance of closure and peace…… I wanted clarification on how this was part of a faith based on love and kindness not retribution and selfishness!
https://thatwoman.wordpress.com/2014/01/27/when-death-becomes-divorce-chris-ritchey/
Well I did receive a letter back which was published on my blog. Telling me to forgive , well not likely to happen then or now , not “Catholic” just “Celtic ”
BUT I remember thinking that somewhere in the archives and files of the Vatican is a letter of heartbreak with your artwork – Just out of Reach– amongst all the millions of papers and prints and works of art.
I love you my son that has never gone away and neither have the tears I cry and won’t until you are no longer out of my reach………..
Sept 3rd – Moving On??? Chris Ritchey
“Try to remember the kind of September……….. “
I have no difficulty in remembering this Labor Day Holiday of yesteryear . You had been given another chance of a “cure”. Of course I realize now that the word “cure” was not an accurate description as given to us by the Cleveland Clinic. The “trial” of SGN 35 was just that another trial. What followed was a frenzied trip to Houston, and more of that four letter word HOPE!!!!
Septembers have come and gone and I remember the “beginning of the end of hope” with the pain that never lessens. As this blog brings to the fore writings of previous Septembers, I revisit those emotions of those times.
One such September third came to the fore today because it had been accessed by someone reading my words.
As I read what I had written in my emotional incontinence , I wonder would I have written anything similar today , you can see the anger, the hurt and the disgust I felt and I asked myself would I have felt the same or written the same today? The answer is YES! just as time has not eased your death and “taking of the memories that should have been” neither has it lessened the feelings I have toward those of self serving hypocrisy. The anger that keeps me upright is beneficial to being………… it is now part of me and who I am….
I love you my son ………. you are but a last breath away…
Chris Ritchey Source
August 3rd- Linked – Chris Ritchey
Graphics Chris Ritchey
Every street in this oldest neighborhood is designated by the signs designed by you for Lorain’s Bicentennial. It was supposed to bring a sense of pride to the residents who have continued to stay here and fight for a quality of life, the history of these oldest streets and a preservation of a neighborhood that was.
I wish I could say that those of us that banded together and set up a 501C3 30 years ago had succeeded in our endeavours but thanks to bank dumps in 2008-2009 with over 200 properties being dumped sometimes for pennies on the dollar, the unscrupulous out of town landlords and property companies, drug houses, lack of code enforcement well we have become a saturated solution of the negative.
Two things came together in my brain this week……. the news of a young man of 16 shot and killed by other young men… just two blocks away, the gun shot waking us up as the sounds of killing reverberated through the night air. I watched the news that evening and as I did the TV camera panned up to the street sign on 6th street, YOUR SIGN and my focus changed instantly as once more I was sent back to your passing and then the pain and I realized another mother , that of a 16 year old , would be weeping tears , heart pounding , trying to breathe trying to deal with the reality of the unreal.
Will she experience the tiniest interludes of happiness? You see, once in a great while, when exhaustion forces the body and mind to sleep there are moments, just between sleeping and waking. One such moment came this week the air was cool enough for the windows to be open and for a brief second as the sun kissed the morning to waken the day , the breeze picked up the peppery scent of the petunias in the window box, this body hadn’t quite realized it had aches and pains, there was for that precious second happiness and then “life” intruded once more……. and mothers weep for lost sons in this old neighborhood……..
Another August of holding my breath , fighting back the tears , holding myself ready for the trigger moments , knowing they will come and wanting
Love continues………. and memories of times much happier……..before life intruded
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