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Location: Genting Highland, Selangor, Malaysia.
When I'm a bee,
I fly erratically,
looking for flowers.
to help make honey
Where are you, Queen?
I respond just to You
I bring my nectar only for you
I feel your presence near
Buzzit! I feel strange,
downright deranged.
What's that in black?
Is our hive under attack?!
Humans are very fine
targets for my behind.
Buzz, buzz, I make a pass;
Now he gets a piece of ass
Uh-oh, what's that smokin'?
Bzzt, I'm feelin' heartbroken.
Bee hearts are so tiny
And easily broken
I'm flying
erratically
so high now
I'm out of breath
I'm closer to death
I'm going down now, drifting
I'm going to sleep now, dreaming
of my Queen in our Hive of Honey
When I'm a bee...............................author, Beat Spiccoli.
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This week my Parents would have been married 69 years.
Mom was a young and beautiful 16 year old in Mobile Alabama and Dad was a young strapping sailor stationed at NAS Pensacola Florida which was about 45 miles away.
Dad's roommate Tully had a date with Mom's oldest sister Inez but my Grandfather wouldn't let any of his 9 girls date alone (Grandpa was also the Sherriff of Mobile County... so ya did what he wanted) so Tully asked Dad to come along and double date with "the kid sister". When the two young sailors arrived on G Street in Pritchard (Mobile) Alabama my Mother was sitting on the front porch swing cutting out paper dolls and when the young men walked up she hid the scissors and dolls the only place she had... underneath her. Even though the scissors were poking her in the bottom she wouldn't let them know she was playing with paper dolls.
Well, one thing led to another and about a year or so later Dot and Dick were married and honeymooned in the thriving metropolis of Milton Florida and stayed at the Exchange Hotel (which is still there). They moved into Petty Officer's housing on NAS Pensacola as Dad was now an AOM 1st Class. Life was good for a short while and then came December 7th 1941.
The base went on lockdown after the attack on Pearl Harbor happened, all of the "regular Navy" blokes (i.e. Regular Navy were the guys already IN the Navy when the war started) were shipped out to the fleet and Dad was assigned to the air group on the 1st USS Lexington. He arrived on board ship in time for the Battle of the Coral Sea which was the first naval battle where the two opposing sides never sighted one another. All the fighting was done by aircraft for the first time ever.
The Lexington was sunk, Dad swam away and was rescued. He returned to the states for his 30 days survivor leave in California. He wasn't there long when he was promoted to Chief Aviation Ordnanceman and shipped right back to the Pacific, this time in an air group aboard the new light carrier USS Bataan. Here he would spend the rest of the war, only learning by mail (several months later) of the birth of his first child of four.
Connie was born on November 22nd 1942. Connie would not see her Daddy until she was nearly 6 years old. After the end of the war, Dad returned home and life picked up somewhat where they left off. Dad left the Navy and got a job with my Grandfather on the Sheriff's department in Mobile County Alabama although the Navy would come calling twice more in Dad's life and recall him to active duty for Korea and Vietnam until he eventually retired from naval service as a Chief Warrant Officer.
In August of 1948, along comes my middle Sister; Phylis Irene. From the very beginning she was Daddy's girl! In fact, during her entire life; Phylis only received ONE spanking from Dad and he felt so bad at having spanked her that he took her right out and bought her a new dress! Much to the chagrin of the older Connie (to this day in fact, LOL).
Well, the family moved back to Dad's boyhood home of St. Petersburg Florida and took a job with the Equitable Insurance Company and before you knew it along came a SON, finally a SON. Little Boy Gregg did not survive long enough to even be given a name and his parents and sisters were heartbroken but their unbending love for each other kept them together through it all.
Mom and Dad gave up on having the Son that they always wanted and life got back to normal. And then low and behold in August of 1958...boom! Along comes that boy they had waited for; and God help them all now, LOL. I was born on 28 August 1958 at St. Anthony's Hospital in downtown St. Petersburg Florida. Dad had been moonlighting at night selling coffee to cafes and bars for the Cooper Coffee Company to "pay for me". We are / were a very close family, rarely argued, discussed everything important before making a decision and my Parents quickly became my best friends. A friendship that lasts through to today.
January of 1998 Dad was diagnosed with Alzheimer's Disease and over the next ten years I watched as the only hero I ever had shrank in both memory and stature into someone who barely knew me or the rest of his family. And for ten years I watched my Mother care for the love of her life with a tenderness that continues to amaze me. She promised him "no homes or "facilities". Your place is at home with me and with me is where you shall stay until you are through here and go home one last time.
She kept her promise and in January of 2008 my Dad, the best friend I've ever known, the only hero I've ever needed and the rock of my very existence went home to his maker and now he hurts and suffers no more.
My Mother has lost the love of her life, her reason for getting up in the morning and her partner of so many years. Family has gathered around her and we nurture her as she did for each of us so many years ago; but she is a smaller and more frail person because of her struggle of the last ten years. Her mind is sharp and her smile as warm as the day I first saw it when she welcomed me into this world. So many memories flood my mind as I write this, trips, parties, good times and bad but always, always together and joined in love. My parents taught me what it meant to love, to value, to honor and to repay over and over debts that were given for no other reason than "because we love you". They taught me the difference between right and wrong, true and untrue, that a man is only as good as his word and that a man will give his very life and breath for that that he believes in and loves the most and that if a man compromises these things that he is a weaker being because of it. I frequently fall short of the pillars that my Dad set forth, and as I was taught; I am a lesser man because of it. I alone can decide if I can live with this or not. Sometimes what doesn't appear right at first is exactly what is right for you in the long run. I am a patriot today because of my Father's example and teachings and will remain so until my own last breath one day.
So many memories, so many happy memories. Loving faces, warm touches, funny stories, adventurous times and the one word that keeps coming back to me is "together". That is how we did things... Together. I love my Mother and Father more than I can express. I am grateful to them in so many indescribable ways for not only my very existence but for who I am today. Not always proud of the choices I make but always in the knowledge that no matter what, I will be loved. I miss my Father terribly. Not a day goes by that I don't think of him and our time together.
On the last day that I saw my Father alive, he was brought out to me in a wheelchair and was slumped forward and nearly limp. My Brother in Law who was caring for him bent over and spoke into Dad's ear and said "Dick, you remember that little boy you had? Well he's here, it's Victor; Dick. He's right there." My Father raised his head out of the slump that had become so familiar and the blank and distant eyes looked at me and it was if a weak little light was turned on and his eyes once again lit up and a small and weak smile came over his face when his eyes locked onto mine. And in less time than it took to read this, it was gone. The blank stare and lost eyes returned and then that evening Dad slipped into a coma and the next morning he was gone. But MY FATHER SAW ME AND KNEW ME. HE SAW ME AND HE KNEW HIS SON WAS THERE, and he smiled at me.
The next morning Dad's breathing became weaker and weaker and about ten AM my Mother and my Sisters and I gathered round Dad, we laid our hands on him and one by one we said thank you to him for all he had done for us; that he had fought such a brave fight; that we loved him; and that I would take care of Mom and the girls like he had taught me to do for so many years, and that he could rest, relax and when he saw the hand of the Lord he should reach out and take it and go home, we would be alright. Less than an hour later, Dad was gone.
Mom was caught somewhere between relief and grief where she remains to this day. She is a stong woman and is working her way steadily through the stages of grief with the help of all of us.
The days don't seem quite as bright as they used to for me. I feel a hole in my heart that nothing seems to fill; no matter how hard I try. I miss my Dad, I always called him "Daddy", so much it hurts. It's like a part of me has gone away and has become lost. But don't be mistaken, I do feel his presence. I know that my Dad will be with me always and that I will see him again one day. That day is what I pin my hope upon.
Richard Bentley Gregg, thou good and faithful servant; pass forth now into thy reward laid up for you in heaven.
Dorothy Iona Gibson-Gregg; thou good and faithful servant. Much riches are laid up for you in heaven and here on earth.
Mom and Dad always told us that we were the richest folks in town because after all... We Had Each Other.
October 23rd, 1939 - October 23rd, 2008.
I Love You Mom and Dad.......
Victor
Update as of January 2023: My dear mother, Dorothy Iona Gibson - Gregg went to home to meet her maker after a long battle with dementia. Her end was not calm, quiet or merciful. It was terrible and I could not get there fast enough to be with her at the end. My mother became very angry after my father's death. She became angry at my father and also with others that she loved. She particularly carried a huge load of anger toward me for I was the one that was tasked with forcing my mother to move out of her and my father's house and move in with my oldest sister Connie. Mom passed away on May 6, 2013. I did not arrive until the next day. I had been out of the country on business and simply could not get there in time.
Mom's earthly remains were interred with my father's remains at Barrancas National Cemetery on board Naval Air Station, Pensacola Florida where so much of both sides of our family have been stationed, went to school and / or are interred there as well. My parents are together again, the only place they ever wanted to be. Both my sisters have passed away from dementia or alzheimer's and I find myself feeling so incredibly alone these last few years. I know that I will see them again one day and that gives me some comfort. My family is mostly disjointed now and broken up. The glue that my parents represented that held the clan so closely together is gone..... and the clan has not survived the loss. My own children are estranged from me and my only son, Nathan and I have not spoken in over six years. I miss all my children terribly and sadly of my six grandchildren.... I've only met one. Things just aren't right with the world anymore and I've given up trying to fix things. They are what they are. My own decisions and behavior are much to blame and I carry that with me daily. My parents would not approve of my decisions or behavior but I have come somewhat to terms with that. One day, one day...
I was met with seven-year-old Mohammed Shoaib in Chittagong, the commercial capital of the country, in April 2016. His heartbroken look still seems to be still.
My heart is broken.....Brutus went peacefully this morning.....may he run and play like a puppy at Rainbow Bridge!
In this pic Brutus is lying in his special place with his paws hanging over the pool!
Rainbow Bridge
Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.
When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.
All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor. Those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.
They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent. His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.
You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.
Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together....
Author unknown...
September 11, 2007 - EXPLORE
I purchased Christmas pajamas for all three of my dogs last week with the plan to take a group photo of them in the PJs. Sadly, Chico's breathing took a turn for the worse Friday night, and I had to let him go yesterday so he will never get to wear these pajamas. It's never easy to lose a dog, but this one has hit particularly hard. He was a senior, but I thought I had a few more years with him. I'm beyond broken hearted. It doesn't feel real.
I was heartbroken to hear that our friend Horst passed away. His comments were always thoughtful and generous, and I cherish each and every one.
He was a brilliant photographer. His photos are full of color, joy and happiness; they never fail to brighten my day. I love his sense of humor in his Woody Set, and the beautiful colors in his On Blue Set, but my absolute favorite was his SKYplay Set.
Horst, you will be missed, but I will think of you often when I look to the sky.
Hey guys this is my bunny Bloomer, he died yesterday while I was at winterlude and I'm heartbroken. He lived a good long life, he was 7 years and 359 days old, he almost made it to 8. I wish I could type more but I've cried enough today and this isn't helping. I'll love him and miss him forever, he was my baby boy. Every night I would bring him in bed with me and snuggle him. And he followed me everwhere he could. He was the sweetest thing ever, he never bit me in his life or anyone else for that matter, but he loved to give kisses. I kinda thought the was invincible considering he's gotten into bubblegum multiple times and jellybeans also and had two near death experiences besides those. But I guess he wasn't. I'll miss him forever, but I know that in a way he will always be with me. Rest in peace Bloomer, I love you.
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A month ago, I was heartbroken to learn that the allotment gardens where I have my plot were to be closed indefinitely, due to precautions to limit the spread of COVID-19. But then...people mobilized....and the province deemed the gardens an essential service. We have new regulations that we need to follow in order to keep everyone safe, but we have access to our gardens. The benefits are vast, from mental and physical health, to eventual fresh food. I am beyond thrilled.
Wisteria (藤) at Kasuga Taisha (春日大社), A World Heritage Site, Nara!
Here’s an interesting piece of fuji I found on the blog of “Japanesque Accents”: “By the Heian Era (794–1192), wisteria viewing parties also became popular largely due to the fact that wisteria was the symbol of the ruling Fujiwara clan. Fujiwara no Shoshi (who became empress to Emperor Ichijo in 1000) was nicknamed “Fujitsubo” because of the wisteria in her courtyard. (Wisteria was frequently planted in the inner palace where the emperor’s consorts and ladies-in-waiting lived.) In The Tale of Genji, Genji’s first and lifelong love was named Fujitsubo by author Lady Murasaki, lady-in-waiting to the real Lady Fujitsubo.
A Kabuki dance called “Fuji Musume” (Wisteria Maiden) is thought to have originated from one of the famous art paintings sold at Otsu, a stop on the old Tokaido Road from Tokyo to Kyoto. When the dance begins, a young maiden wearing an ornate, long-sleeved kimono decorated with wisteria steps out of a painting and tries to attract the attention of a would-be lover. Her efforts, however, go unnoticed and in the last scene of the dance she returns heartbroken to her painting. The Wisteria Maiden holding a branch of wisteria blossoms often appears in paintings.
Historically, the sight of the purple wisteria has always comforted followers of Buddhism because it was believed that Amida Buddha would descend on a purple cloud to guide them to the Western Paradise. One sect of Buddhism uses wisteria on its crest.” See full article here: japanesqueaccents.com/?p=89
June 3, 2008 - January 31, 2019
My house burned January 31 while I was at work, and sadly, the firefighters couldn't save Enzo. I am heartbroken.
I lost my best friend and wife Diane. She was/is the whole world to me. I miss her every second of every day.
A morning capture that my wife probably wouldn't have been heartbroken with me not capturing, but there you have it. I generally put a lot of emphasis on my images being as sharp as possible, so thought this venture away from my comfort zone might not be bad thing. Also processed in a bit of noise and crushed shadows.
"get your head out of the mud baby...."
As a kid I was scared of escalators, cause my skirt got caught in one when i was 4. I'm now over that. Hope you like my illustration!
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"The heart is the only broken instrument that works" ~ T.E. Kalem
I bought this heart-shaped gem in a shop at a mall in Berlin 5 years ago (it was in one piece at that time). I was supposed to give it to a certain girl, but I never got around to do it as I had left my balls at home (figurately speaking). Perhaps it was how it was meant to be, as from what I've heard she's happily married and working as a photographer now.
Anyways.. I've never had the "pleasure" of getting my heart broken as the picture implies. Ripped out and slowly torn apart yes, but not broken. However I didn't have any ideas of how to portrait how I feel now so I went with the broken-theme.
A big "FUCK YOU" goes out to my soon-to-be ex-wife.
My ex left me in June of '07 so that she could "find herself".
She dyed her hair bright pink..... Didn't find herself there.
Then she styled it as a big mohawk.... Didn't find herself there either.
Then she got her septum pierced........ Once again, no discovery of who she really is.
She left me, yet I'm the one who has to initiate the whole divorce proceeding. I'm the one who has to fill out the paperwork. I'm the one that has to file the paperwork. I'm the one who's paying for the paperwork to get filed. I guess my official title is "Petitioner". The petitioner is the one who initiates the divorce process. Not necessarily the person who wanted to get the divorce in the first place. As is the case in my situation. I loved this woman with all my heart. But now I am the one who has to do every-fucking-thing under the stupid fucking sun in order to get divorced. All the while, she's out partying and having a good old time. Well, I'm fucking sick of it! I can't take much more of this. I try to set up meetings with her so that she can fill out the information that pertains to her (like medical insurance, 401k, etc.) but she blows me off. Seriously, why is it so difficult for her to step up to the plate and just take care of this shit? She's the one who wanted all this.
News flash bitch:
You're 31 years old! Grow up and take some responsibility for you actions. Don't rely on everyone else to do all the work for you!
I will never get married again.
Dedicated to my late wife, Elaine who died on Tuesday this week, I will miss you so very much.
What will I do without you ?
My heart is broken.
----------------------------------------------------------
R.I.P 21/04/2020
After years of visiting him at Anastacia's, I realized that I would be absolutely heartbroken if this marionette ever sold. So now he's mine. ❤️❤️❤️ I'm going to make some very small repairs so that he can hang on his own strings. I might also stitch up his suit and make him some arms to wear since his are missing (He has a gorgeous wooden body, I would not permanently attach them.) He's pretty fantastic already, of course. Look at his controls! He's going to be the patron saint of my studio.
As if one heartbreak wasn't enough, we lost our beautiful Isis just 10 days after her mate of 11 years, Zenda, died.
We are all beyond devastated as we try to make sense of what has happened. My personal opinion is Isis was terribly heartbroken over the loss of her mate.
The King and Queen are together forever in Heaven. Please keep the zoo keepers, docents and staff in your heart as we try and process our grief.
Here is the press release:
The Chicago Zoological Society staff is devastated to announce the sudden loss of our female African lion, Isis. Her death comes less than two weeks after the loss of her mate Zenda, Brookfield Zoo’s male African lion, who was euthanized due to age-related issues that impacted his quality of life.
Animal care staff checked on 14-year-old Isis in her outdoor habitat yesterday morning shortly after 9:00 a.m. and all appeared normal. However, upon revisiting the habitat a short time later, she was observed laying on the floor of the moat. Although not witnessed, it appears that Isis fell and was injured. Despite the immediate and intensive treatment provided by the veterinary staff, Isis sustained significant injuries and the difficult decision was made to humanely euthanize her today.
The safety and well-being of the animals in our care is our utmost priority. Although it is unclear what caused her fall, we are reviewing all aspects of this tragic occurrence.
Both Isis and Zenda arrived at Brookfield Zoo in May 2008. They could often be seen grooming one another and sleeping together. Isis and Zenda were majestic animals who had a strong bond. The animal care staff, who dedicated their lives to care for these charismatic lions, are heartbroken by their loss.
Llanddwyn Island is named after St Dwynwen, the Welsh patron saint of lovers. Legend has it that she was spurned by a prince and retreated heartbroken to the island. There she was granted three wishes, and asked to be given the power to grant the wishes of true lovers.
There have been two zoo animals that I have felt a strong connection with, the first was Bandit. I met her in 1995 at the National Zoo. There was something about that first meeting that I knew she would be a favorite. She was just that special.
People have asked me why I chose the name ucumari, it comes from "ucumari, bear with mystical power" from her native land.
Bandit will be greatly missed, no zoo will ever be the same for me.
Please take a moment and view more photos of Bandit
To read the eulogy of this special bear, see Bandit
Thank you...