To Hope Again - Part 1 - Hope Promised

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Sometime in the future:

Dear Reader: I was delighted to find that this writer account was still open after all these years. I wanted to write this story to tell you something about my family. I haven’t much experience with writing, so please bear with me, okay? I hope this blesses you. Sincerely, Angelina Abruzzi

To Hope Again
Part 1
Hope Promised

 
A "Home that Love Built" Story

by Angelina Marie Abruzzi
Thanks Daddy!
 

Just close your eyes

Reach for the moment

Before it slips by

Here is your second chance


 
The figure walked up the path from the driveway to the front entrance. She appeared to be about seventy or so, attractive for her age, albeit for her decidedly short hair, which still held some bits of brown mixed in with the white. She wore a long sweater-coat, green and hooded, over a v-neck black silk top along with jeans and some low heeled calf-length boots. Her make up, such as it was, did little to hide the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, but she was fine with that. Over seven decades of a wonderful life, filled with so much experience, both good and bad, gave her pause to treasure the rich life the lines bore witness to. Failing to notice the doorbell, she knocked on the front door, hard enough to remind her of the arthritis that now beset her hands. After a few moments, the door opened to reveal a very friendly face belonging to a nice woman likely ages with her.

"Oh,Hi," the woman said warmly, you must be Andrea. I’m Sandra. "Come on in. I've just taken the kettle off the stove, and we can have some tea."

"I'm glad I found the place. I lost the directions somewhere between my apartment and my car, but I guess my sense of direction still works somewhat,"

The two stepped inside and walked past a large room that appeared to be an office of some sort. They arrived at end of the hall and walked into a nice dining room, where two other women sat at the table, already talking and drinking tea."

"Ladies, I'd like you to meet Andrea." Andrea had already exchanged pleasantries with Sandra over the phone.

"Andrea, I'd like you to meet some of our staff. Janet here is a registered nurse...nurse practitioner actually. She's been with us from almost the beginning."

Janet offered her hand, which Andrea took gladly in greeting. "What a lovely smile." Andrea thought as she returned the warm smile with her own.

"Connie here is our accountant. She's been here since May, and we just love her to pieces." Connie blushed and Andrea noticed that her eyes were misty.

"I'm sorry...I...it's just I never thought in a million years that there would ever be a place for me." She wanted to continue but the mist turned to tears. Sandra looked at Connie seeking permission to continue her story. Connie nodded, and Sandra smiled at Andrea and said,

"She was let go in March from her company. We expect it was because she was in the midst of her transition, and the management just couldn't handle the fallout from the staff. She had the support of several of her co-workers, but her manager just couldn't accept her. It would be a case of discrimination except that her work reviews were consistently poor and they stated that she failed to improve despite several warnings from management."

"It's a nice way of saying 'you're a transsexual, we can't come up with anything to complain about, so we'll just report that you can't do your job' even though she was getting more done in her department than half the other staff." Janet interjected with more than a little anger.

"That doesn't seem fair at all. Isn't that illegal?" Andrea said.

"It would appear so, but it's hard to prove...especially if it isn't documented or if the documentation isn't descriptive enough." Sandra stated with a frown. "We're not the only ones who deal with this, but other groups seem to get more attention and make more progress since they've become "acceptable," whereas we're still treated like outcasts."

"Will you be moving in today, Andrea? I'd be happy to help you unpack?" Janet said with a smile.

"Actually, she’s not going to live here." Cathilynn, the founder of the refuge said as she walked into the dining room. “She’s still living at home.” Cathilynn walked over and gave Andrea a hug.

“I’m so glad you came…you’ll fit it here, and I hope we can bless you as much as you will bless us. Janet raised one eyebrow in surprise. Connie looked disappointed as well. The grandmotherly woman before her looked like someone she would really love to know.

"Oh, I'm sorry..." Cathilynn apologized, "Andrea is here to volunteer. She doesn't live far from here, and has her own apartment....which is actually a Godsend, since we've really very little space while the expansion takes place." The home was doubling in size as the foundation had purchased the adjacent property after securing a variance from the town.

"Well, we're glad to meet you, Andrea, what do you bring to the table?" Janet said. It wasn't really abrupt or rude; Janet had smiled and actually pointed to the dining room table.

"You can call me Drea...my friends all do. I'm a psychologist by trade, but lately I've been involved in other work."

"Drea has agreed to work in the new program we're starting when the expansion is completed."

Janet's eyes widened, since she was also slated to work in the new program as well.

"Which program is that, Cathilynn?" Connie asked.

"Hospice" Cathilynn said with a half-smile; knowing the need for Drea's services.

"She's a grief and hospice counselor, and she's agreed to volunteer to help Janet get the program going." Janet looked over at Drea and smiled, almost with the same expression as Cathilynn. Bittersweet emotion as she thought of two of the new girls. Both had come within the past two weeks. Laurie, a pre-op girl from Kansas who would likely never see the day of her GRS. She was in stage four of acute lymphoma, and had very little time left, with no support but for the women at the home. Her wife had left her years ago, and her parents were deceased.

"I bet Nikki will be thrilled." Connie said, but her enthusiasm was blunted by the tears streaming down her cheeks. Nikki was finally losing her valiant battle against A.I.D.S. after three years being symptom free. She had been a runaway at sixteen, and had gotten into prostitution. Eventually a minister and his wife took her in after she finally was able to get off the street and into a treatment program. She had turned her life around, and was looking forward to transitioning herself when she was diagnosed with H.I.V. Unlike so many fortunate souls who have lived long after that discovery, her system finally was giving in to the ravages of the virus. Despite her grim future, Nikki remained upbeat and positive. Not in a Pollyanna fashion, since she knew there was ultimately nothing medicine could do to prevent the inevitable. Her newly rediscovered faith had given her hope, not for her own health, but hope for the other women in the home.

"Cathilynn told me about Nikki...I plan on asking her for help as much as she can when more girls arrive." Drea blinked back her own tears, remembering the beginning of her journey.

________________________________________

“Daddy, are you okay,” I said as I rubbed my father’s shoulder. It had already been a long day; we’d been at the hospital since nine that morning and it was nearly midnight.

“Sure, Angie…I’ll be okay…it’s just so hard. We knew this day would come, but I didn’t think it would hurt this much.”

“Daddy…you’ve loved Mommy like…forever.” I said and I leaned into him for a hug. I couldn’t help it…I started crying. I knew it would be catching, and in a moment we were both weeping. Mommy was sleeping in her room as we stood in the hallway holding onto each other for dear life. They had been married for nearly thirty-five years, and it was time to say goodbye…..We didn’t want to…it wasn’t fair somehow…but Mommy was ready to go home, like some people say.

“Andy…Andy…” my mother’s voice was a little raspy but she was calm.

“I’m here, honey….” My dad choked back his tears and walked into the room. I wanted to compose myself, and they needed some time alone…it wouldn’t be long, and I could wait a few more moments. I could hear them….

“Mi Mancherai, mi amore, mi dolce espousa,” Daddy tried to use Italian whenever he could remember the phrases. “More romantic, I think,” he’d always say.

“Annie McCullough, I love you so much.” Mommy was one of six sisters, all beautiful. Our family friend Bobby McDowell said one time at a church picnic, “Andy…there’s a McCullough here for everybody!” Mommy was beautiful…

“Andrew DiMaggio, I love you more than life itself…I have been truly blessed.” Mommy rasped.

I peeked in and they kissed…right on the lips…like the most romantic thing I would ever see.

“Angie…honey, come…sweetie, come now.” Daddy’s voice was soft and calm, but I understood the urgency. I walked into the room and walked up to the bed.

“Honey…I love you….tell the boys (Danny and Andrew, my sons) that I love them so much, okay. And tell Sal he’s the best son-in-law ever.” Her voice was clear but fading.

“Now give your Mommy a hug, okay?” I couldn’t help it. The tears were rolling off my nose and dropping quickly to the floor. I fell on the bed and wept; Mommy put her hand on my head and said a silent prayer. Daddy hugged me and kissed Mommy on the forehead, like a blessing almost. We didn’t even notice the loud beep of the monitor until the nurse came a few moments later, but there was nothing to do…Mommy was gone. After a minute or so Daddy and I stood up and hugged. Daddy was always one to cry, I recall, but I don’t remember him ever crying as hard as that night. It hurt and felt good at the same time.

_____________________________________

"Drea..." Janet said as she patted the seat next to her. "Have a seat, and we can talk about what we see happening for the program." Drea walked over and sat down. She smiled warmly at Janet, noticing the sparkle in her eyes. But there seemed to be something more...something sad...something secret.

Second Chances by Trisha Yearwood

Next - The Longest Day

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Comments

Hope

Thank you fro this story. I am dealing with Hospice right now as my Mother-in-Law is also dieing from lymphoma. So the Story sort of hit Home. Also wife's first husband died of AIDS. And My Mother passed in June. Thank you for the story and for me to ease my pain. Keep writing.

OMG!!!

Sometimes you read something that simply takes your breath away and makes your heart palpitate, ya know? Well...this one is it!!!!!!!!!!!!! Amidst the tears and the knowing of what hospice is like to those who need to take advantage, this is really too close for comfort (?)!

Your Brat

Nice Story

RAMI

As always a tender and well written story.

RAMI

RAMI

Our angelic one

laika's picture

tells a wonderful story. I think the old gray mare Andrea will make an excellent hospice counsellor; and that sadly sweet passage toward the end shows where her interest in this field may have come from. I am in awe of hospice workers, the hospice nurse that dropped by almost daily to guide us through home hospicing my father was an amazing woman, doing what some would say is a thankless job, what with the whole death thing and all, but she clearly found it very rewarding. I love the way this story continues to bring THE HOME THAT LOVE BUILT to life. Unlike story universes base on fantasy themes, where just about anything goes, this one seems firmly based in reality. All the nuts & bolts specifics of how things get done and how Cathilynn and her crew can do the most good. Thank you Angelina...
~~~hugs, Laika

.
What borders on stupidity?
Canada and Mexico.
.

I'm impressed and pleased,

at the number and quality of the stories that are being written in my fledgling universe. This one is no exception. I've purposely allowed a lot of latitude for the authors to come up with unique members of The Home That Love Built, in order to populate it with their own essences.

I also set this universe up precisely to disallow magic, super science, or anything forced, save for the particular circumstances of those who come to the Home. Reality, or as close as we can get to it in a fiction series, is what I'm after, and I've gotten it in spades from every story so far.

Andrea is well known as a writer of supreme ability at bringing many emotions to life in her stories, and I'm very pleased to welcome her to the fold.

There is lots of room for more stories and more characters, in THTLB. Feel free to contribute, any or all of you. All I ask is that you run your story past me BEFORE posting it, so I can help maintain timelines and the overall continuity. I'll also proof and edit any stories for THTLB if the author wishes.

Wonderful job so far, Andrea. I look forward to the next part, anxiously.

Hugs and love,
Cathilynn

As a T-woman, I do have a Y chromosome... it's just in cursive, pink script. Y_0.jpg

What Beauty lies in the Truth

mia sorella dolce

Se la scrittura porta per guarire che lei dovrebbe ballare giù i passi di spagnolo in Roma. Questa storia, come sempre, ha toccato il mio cuore. Questo tempo lo stracciando quasi in due. Io, indegno nonostante sono, lavora come un cappellano. I suoi suoni di storia così vero. L'amo per dire la verità in uni altri di maniera può capire.

Essere forte il mio Beth caro

Translation please?

For those of us who aren't multi-lingual? Thank you.

Cathilynn

As a T-woman, I do have a Y chromosome... it's just in cursive, pink script. Y_0.jpg

Essentially, my sweet sister (dolce sorella)

Andrea Lena's picture

...is saying that the story has touched her....that it rings true, and that it is said with love, in a way that can be understood. Scuse..my Italian still needs a little work and a lot of help. Mille grazie, Beth...or Bettina, as they say in the home of my forbearers. Many thanks.


She was born for all the wrong reasons but grew up for all the right ones.
Possa Dio riccamente vi benedica, tutto il mio amore, Andrea

  

To be alive is to be vulnerable. Madeleine L'Engle
Love, Andrea Lena

Italian for Americans

Cathilynn,

No disrespect was meant to you or to others. 'Drea and I practice on each other. Some of the comments come across much better in Italian...

A rough translation would be:
If writing were healing you should be dancing down the Spanish Steps in Rome. As always your words have touched my heart. In especially, the words of Hospice ring true.

I hope that Helps...
We Americans are SO mono-lingual! (grin)

EMOTIONS ,EMOTIONS !!

ALISON

"I wish that I could but utter the thoughts that arise in me".
Like the artist that you are'Drea,you have hit all the right notes and played all the right chords to stretch everyones
emotions to the limit and I know you have brought back memories
for me that have left me emotionally drained but looking for more
of what I know will be a beautiful story.Bravo!!!

ALISON

This story tugged at my

This story tugged at my heart, as it does hit very close to home at the present time. My own wife is dying from a very aggressive form of lung cancer and was give 2-5 months on Dec 30 (a heck of a way to "ring in" the new year); and we just got all our children home, for the first time in 8 years, to be with her for a short period. She is under care of Hospice and all I can say about that organization is they are amazing people. All the hospice members we have dealt with so far have gone above and beyond in working with her and me. I just pray each day that when she goes, it will be peaceful just like the mother in this story. Jan

Another Tender Story

It's so refreshing to read stories that are full of love and humanity. The world seems to be crowded with evils, but in reality there are so many sweet, kind persons around.

I love your stories

They always seem to tug me by the heart strings.

You stories are always so

You stories are always so beautiful, thank you.

To Hope Again - Part 1 - A Home That Love Built Story

That is what the Home That Love Built is all about. Returning hope to the hopeless T.G.

    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine
    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine

Oh Gosh.

I'm a 64 year old tranny wondering where her old age will take her.

I've often thought about a refuge devoted to helping tg people both young and old. Their need are just so real at all stages of their lives.

I must start to move on it, I've only got about 10 or 20 yea5rs left before I am too old and feeble.

Likes the story.
Very moving,

Beverly.

bev_1.jpg

OMG! How did I miss this?

Ole Ulfson's picture

It has a wonderful beginning for what I know will be an incomparable series of stories (as ever was!) and you've got me balling like a baby already. God only knows what you'll do to me as we move forward.

As always I'll cherish every word and every tear.

Ole

We are each exactly as God made us. God does not make mistakes!

Gender rights are the new civil rights!