Oh I did not mention this milestone.
I made 5000 feedback on eBay
and 100 percent positive.
I am quite proud of that.
Almost 8000 sales too as duplicate buyers do not count.
(they will change that)
So I got a green star now and a letter from eBay with congrats.
1 comment:
My name is Rhonda. I'm Jeannot's daughter and Bob is my Dad. This is bitter sweet for this blog demonstrates the gift of writing my mother has and at the same time the well-written words shown the keen pain she's in and it hurts to read it. It hurts to read because this are my parents and this can't be fixed with the small things I try to work into my own life.
My dad is barely there anymore. I took the folks to Burger King last night. We go there because this used to be there hang out with all the senior benefits. We continued to go because it was the one place Daddy still remembered. Last night he remembered where to get the drinks but I didn't see that he remembered "our table".
My dad is pretty amazing. He is the reason I love all the things I do about life. He adopted us and loved us when my real dad didn't. He gave us his last name when my real dad asked to give it away. Dad gave us opera and oriental rugs and original artwork. Daddy gave us Christian Science and my brother, Bob.
Alzheimer is kinda cruel. I look at him and I see this shell and I want to hollar at him and shake this imposter out so that my real dad can come out. It's like he's walked so far ahead of us and we can still see him way out in a field but he can't hear us to turn around and come back.
Each time I see Dad I look hard for something to be grateful for and I try to find something to laugh about to ease the sorrow I know my mom experiences moment to moment. Last night I noticed how Daddy just laughed at everything. He reminded me of my children when they were only months old and I could get them to coo and laugh. Last night, though, I had to dig deep to find anything to laugh about myself though. I finally found it when mom went into the drugstore and took longer than usual (who could blame her) and returning to the car I asked if she found us all chocolate for being good and waiting in the car.
Mom calls me a romantic. I have to say that she's right. When I see the love these two old farts (and I say that lovingly) have for eachother I can't help but believe in true love, the kind that lasts forever.
I love you guys.
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