Friday, May 27, 2011
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Foreclosure/Auction: 18339 Dayton Pl N
Hello there, wonderful neighbors:
This is Julie Bacon at 18339 Dayton Pl N. Some of you know us and our story: my husband, Wayne, had a stroke on April 1, 2008 when Morgan, our daughter was only 3 weeks old. We'd only lived in the neighborhood for 9 or 10 months, and although we hadn't met any of you, many of you stepped forward and were extremely supportive and helped us tremendously during the past 3 difficult years. You cleaned up our yard, weeded our garden, took our trash bins in and out, brought us dinner, had us over for dinner, babysat my daughter, responded to my multiple desperate concerns about where Wayne was because he wasn't answering the phone while I was 'stuck' at work downtown. You took care of our beautiful (and now deceased) golden retriever Tucker, you came over and checked that we were okay every time an ambulance showed up... THANK YOU!!!
I truly believe I could not have come out of the past three years as "intact" as I am if I had not had your support and help. And with that, I am sad to say that our attempts at keeping the house and staying in the neighborhood have not been successful. The loan modification was approved by the investor on Monday but was denied Wednesday by the Closing Dept. based on a few factors (which to me feels like they were just listing a few reasons for them to not push this through the last bit of red-tape).
The house is set to be auctioned on March 11th. I think I am finally going to "let go" and move onto the next part of our journey. I am looking into a few last options, but really it's to minimize the effect on my credit than to attempt to "save the house".
I wanted to let you know this and give you a heads-up that this will be occurring. Maybe someone wants some investment property in the neighborhood... I don't know--it just felt right to contact everyone and let you know, as well as extend our deepest gratitude for the friendships, support, and assistance you have given us these very difficult 3 years.
Although we will miss this neighborhood terribly, I have my head high, my eyes looking forward, and am excited to see where we'll rent a house in the next month and see what else the future holds for us... we can only move forward. :)
Thank you again.
Sincerely,
Julie Bacon
www.thebaconfamilyfund.org
TheBaconFamilyFund.Blogspot.com
julieannbacon@hotmail.com
This is Julie Bacon at 18339 Dayton Pl N. Some of you know us and our story: my husband, Wayne, had a stroke on April 1, 2008 when Morgan, our daughter was only 3 weeks old. We'd only lived in the neighborhood for 9 or 10 months, and although we hadn't met any of you, many of you stepped forward and were extremely supportive and helped us tremendously during the past 3 difficult years. You cleaned up our yard, weeded our garden, took our trash bins in and out, brought us dinner, had us over for dinner, babysat my daughter, responded to my multiple desperate concerns about where Wayne was because he wasn't answering the phone while I was 'stuck' at work downtown. You took care of our beautiful (and now deceased) golden retriever Tucker, you came over and checked that we were okay every time an ambulance showed up... THANK YOU!!!
I truly believe I could not have come out of the past three years as "intact" as I am if I had not had your support and help. And with that, I am sad to say that our attempts at keeping the house and staying in the neighborhood have not been successful. The loan modification was approved by the investor on Monday but was denied Wednesday by the Closing Dept. based on a few factors (which to me feels like they were just listing a few reasons for them to not push this through the last bit of red-tape).
The house is set to be auctioned on March 11th. I think I am finally going to "let go" and move onto the next part of our journey. I am looking into a few last options, but really it's to minimize the effect on my credit than to attempt to "save the house".
I wanted to let you know this and give you a heads-up that this will be occurring. Maybe someone wants some investment property in the neighborhood... I don't know--it just felt right to contact everyone and let you know, as well as extend our deepest gratitude for the friendships, support, and assistance you have given us these very difficult 3 years.
Although we will miss this neighborhood terribly, I have my head high, my eyes looking forward, and am excited to see where we'll rent a house in the next month and see what else the future holds for us... we can only move forward. :)
Thank you again.
Sincerely,
Julie Bacon
www.thebaconfamilyfund.org
TheBaconFamilyFund.Blogspot.com
julieannbacon@hotmail.com
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Losing Wayne
I feel as though I am starting to lose the memory of the pre-stroke Wayne. And you know it's bad when you watch a video of the two of you from before the stroke, and it just doesn't even feel familiar...
I MISS HIM SO MUCH!
... maybe only when that memory fades, is when the true healing begins.
Maybe I've been in limbo this whole time. I thought from 18 months to nearly 3 years post-stroke, that I've been doing a great job of healing and becoming present again... but maybe I have to allow that old life, that previous relationship, that man I loved with all of my heart... maybe I have to say 'GoodBye' to all of it in order to accept this oh-so-different marriage, life, raising a child, single-driver, life-partnership...
I don't want the memory to fade... but I don't want to stay this mournful, this lonesome, this isolated, this fearful ... I want to move forward.
I thought I was moving forward, but the fear I have tonight of losing a "video image" of the old him is indicating to me that I must be desperately clinging to the old: the old life, the old "rules" we operated under, the old conversations, the old partnership, the old plans, the old hopes, the old frustrations, the old good and the old bad.
The visual I'm seeing is that I'm underwater, holding my breath, dark and deep water surrounds me, the surface is not visible, my face is illuminated though with bright, yellowish light, bubbles sweep from my mouth past my cheeks and into my hair, my eyes are wide and desperate looking, hair floating and billows when disturbed by the bubbles from my mouth, and I'm holding onto these items that give me meaning, give me purpose, give me memories full of love and laughter and connection. They define my 9 years with Wayne before the stroke. They are my entire adult life.... these items are keeping me underwater though... I have to let them go... I have to release them and get to the surface.
But, I keep clinging to these memories, to the identity of Wayne&Julie, to the visual of Wayne walking normally or even running or working in the yard with two strong arms. I cling to the conversations we used to have in the backyard. I visualize him swinging in the hammock and rocking himself with a push-off of his right foot. I cling to the late night two-step dance we would do every Friday night when we got home--Billy Joel, "She's Always a Woman". I cling to our hopes for this house. I cling to our talks about what kinds of parents we would help each other be. I missed just being new-parents with him (as we were in 2008 before the stroke occurred). I hear us goofily singing "Come What May" to each other (from Moulin Rouge) the week of our wedding... over, and over, and over again. LOL :)
I keep holding all of these items close because they don't deserve to be at the bottom of the ocean, deteriorating and being forgotten, and not being re-played over and over again, and his stupid jokes he used to tell laughed at again and again in my head... I want so desperately to hold onto these, but no matter how much I try right now... they are slipping through my fingers. I can't hold on, no matter how much I want to. No matter how much I try to force my mind to remember and see it, to hear it, to just feel it be "normal" one. last. time.
I MISS HIM SO MUCH!
... maybe only when that memory fades, is when the true healing begins.
Maybe I've been in limbo this whole time. I thought from 18 months to nearly 3 years post-stroke, that I've been doing a great job of healing and becoming present again... but maybe I have to allow that old life, that previous relationship, that man I loved with all of my heart... maybe I have to say 'GoodBye' to all of it in order to accept this oh-so-different marriage, life, raising a child, single-driver, life-partnership...
I don't want the memory to fade... but I don't want to stay this mournful, this lonesome, this isolated, this fearful ... I want to move forward.
I thought I was moving forward, but the fear I have tonight of losing a "video image" of the old him is indicating to me that I must be desperately clinging to the old: the old life, the old "rules" we operated under, the old conversations, the old partnership, the old plans, the old hopes, the old frustrations, the old good and the old bad.
The visual I'm seeing is that I'm underwater, holding my breath, dark and deep water surrounds me, the surface is not visible, my face is illuminated though with bright, yellowish light, bubbles sweep from my mouth past my cheeks and into my hair, my eyes are wide and desperate looking, hair floating and billows when disturbed by the bubbles from my mouth, and I'm holding onto these items that give me meaning, give me purpose, give me memories full of love and laughter and connection. They define my 9 years with Wayne before the stroke. They are my entire adult life.... these items are keeping me underwater though... I have to let them go... I have to release them and get to the surface.
But, I keep clinging to these memories, to the identity of Wayne&Julie, to the visual of Wayne walking normally or even running or working in the yard with two strong arms. I cling to the conversations we used to have in the backyard. I visualize him swinging in the hammock and rocking himself with a push-off of his right foot. I cling to the late night two-step dance we would do every Friday night when we got home--Billy Joel, "She's Always a Woman". I cling to our hopes for this house. I cling to our talks about what kinds of parents we would help each other be. I missed just being new-parents with him (as we were in 2008 before the stroke occurred). I hear us goofily singing "Come What May" to each other (from Moulin Rouge) the week of our wedding... over, and over, and over again. LOL :)
I keep holding all of these items close because they don't deserve to be at the bottom of the ocean, deteriorating and being forgotten, and not being re-played over and over again, and his stupid jokes he used to tell laughed at again and again in my head... I want so desperately to hold onto these, but no matter how much I try right now... they are slipping through my fingers. I can't hold on, no matter how much I want to. No matter how much I try to force my mind to remember and see it, to hear it, to just feel it be "normal" one. last. time.
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