Thinking on these things...

"Like a comet pulled from orbit, as it passes a sun. Like a tree that meets a boulder, half way through the wood..."
Just yesterday someone asked me how I carried myself so well after what happened with my sister. My reply was, "I'm at the point in life where it has become part of my life. There comes a point when you realize that you have to continue on with your life. It's what that person would've wanted."
But then, I thought, Wow...I guess I really don't think about her death as much as I used too. Does this make me a bad person?
The truth is, no. I miss her each and every day. When she died, my whole world collapsed. I don't think my world has been the same since December 17th, 2010. But as I look towards college and a nursing career, a husband and a family...I don't find myself wanting to dwell on death. A couple months ago, I sat down in my bed and thought about what Melanie would say to me if she could talk to me.
"Quit your crying...you know you're going to see me again!"
"Don't worry honey, I'm way better up here."
"Take care of Neil and Eric for me...but don't spoil Neil too much!"
I miss her a lot. It's not easy losing a childhood best friend who helped make you who you were. But the changes that have been made in me, and the things I was taught through her death, I would not change for anything.

Reminiscing...

MELANIE ROSE (TICEN) BRADLEY

August 17th, 1986 to December 17th, 2010

I remember the exact moment that my crying mom revealed to me this: my beloved sister, Mel, had died from a pulmonary embolism in her heart. I cried as my siblings looked on. I wailed "No! Not my sister! NO!!!" and in horrific sadness, I fell into my mom's arms. She cried with me and tried to explain everything that had gone on while I sat in Biology class that morning at 9:20am, absolutely clueless of what had happened.

People had clobbered my Facebook in apologetic wall posts..."Ginny! I am SO sorry!!" or "We are praying for you!!" And the phone rang over and over. Each time, I begged for it to be Mel calling, saying, "Hey! It's me. I'm okay after all." But I knew it couldn't happen. But how could she die? The girl who promised she would name her first daughter after me? The girl who taught me my first notes on the piano? Who cheered me up no matter what had happened? Could God really take her home...now? Just eight days before Christmas, with an eleven-month-old son and a husband who is now a widower, at only 27?

The Tuesday following her death, her body arrived safely to Jackson Funeral Home in Rensselaer, Indiana. We were asked to come and see her to make sure she looked good enough for her services tomorrow and the day after. Bekah and I went first and tried to keep our emotions hidden, but the moment she walked out, I took a long look at her and the first tear fell. Thousands more followed. I even kept a conversation with her...though, sadly, it was one-sided.

That night, I even attempted to play basketball. I tried to concentrate on the game, but all I did was see her face. All I could see was Melanie in the casket. By the third quarter, I was sitting on the bench, watching my team play without me. I was too unstable.

After enduring a five-hour (what felt like five years) viewing, the funeral the next morning and the burial at the cemetery just a few miles from Burr Oak Mennonite Church, where the services were held, I sat with several of my dearest friends for the funeral luncheon. I laughed as hard as I could, whenever I could. I frankly could not be sad anymore. I had earned some happiness. I intended to take full advantage of it. And thankfully, it came (for the first time in several days) very easily. And today, I thank God that she is there with Him. One day, I'll be there too. And I can't wait to talk to her again.

"Don't be mad, if I cry. It just hurts so bad, sometimes. 'Cause every day, it's sinking in. And I have to say goodbye all over again. You know, I bet it feels nice to have the weight of this world off your shoulders now. I'm dreaming of the day when I'm finally there with you.

Save a place for me, save a place for me. I'll be there soon. I'll be there soon. Save a place for me, save some grace for me. I'll be there soon. I'll be there."

My dear dog Max

My beloved dog, Max, was found dead in his doghouse this morning. We think he may have had died in his sleep several days ago.
We got Max as a puppy when I was six or seven years old. He was hard to train, and his breed was difficult to handle. We ended up chaining him up outside for most of his life. My dad told me we'd never get another dog because of Max...but in July my dad got us a Shih Tzu puppy from his best friend's wife's dog shelter. We are training her vigorously so she doesn't end up like poor Max.
While yes, Max was an unbelievably un-trained dog, he was quite the gentle dog at times. When he was younger, he tore up anything in sight. He'd run alongside the car when we'd drive away. Each time I brought him his food, he jumped for joy. I pet him and he pant like nobody's business. Just like each dog, he was stubborn at times and very hyper. As he got older, he was a gentle, kind dog who was sweeter than a drop of syrup. When I was three or four, our old dog Mindy bit me on the face and clawed my arms. I have a scar from it. I was angry at her for accidentally biting my kitten's head and killing it. So I hit her with a stick, and she fought back. I had a bad experience with dogs and so when we got Max, I was sure I'd hate him too. And sometimes, I did. But now, I miss him. I felt bad that I didn't go see him more. He was a sweet dog, who in dog years was in his 70s when he passed away. My dad is out burying him now. Sigh, goodbye Max. Goodbye.

R.I.P Maxwell Edward Ticen
2003-2011

Sweet Memories...

Finally, fall...you have come!
My little sisters anxiously await for you. They love to cover our cars with crisp leaves and to jump into huge piles of them. Their smiles are priceless. Their laughter is delightful to hear. This tradition of leave raking and jumping started years ago when my older siblings were still young enough to want to do that stuff. Ben used to get the biggest piles raked up, Bekah knew the best leaves to find, and Melanie showed me and Aaron how to jump correctly and how to land. What I would give to go back to that time, before they all grew up and passed on. Now as I am writing this, Lydia and Angie and our dog Gabby are outside loving the weather and carrying on the tradition. Perhaps I'll go out and join them. After all, somebody's gotta teach them how to jump correctly. (:

Things I Never Though About Before...

Haha...wow. Today 20 students got EMT certificates through a state-wide test. My mom helped train them. I got to help train them. Weird...I trained them?
Well, not really...Idk exactly. As they learned new skills I let them practice on me. I have played many parts. I have done all in my powers to help them to become life-savers.
Or maybe this EMT cert will never go beyond being a framed picture on the wall. Maybe this is just for bragging rights. Or maybe...someone will take this, go out in to the field, and save strangers' lives. I have watched my mom do it for the past five years of my life, and have seen miracles performed. Whether it be a cardiac arrest that my mom brought back to life, or a little old lady that fell from her wheelchair and just needed a lift, that person will respect my mom for the rest of her life. What a wonderful way to make your mark on the world.

These Are The Times...

Have you ever been in a place where you just don't know how you will ever make it through? Not a good cry, nor an encouraging word can bring your spirits to a point where you just know that you'll be okay.
August 17th marks eight months that my beautiful sister went to be her Heavenly Father. It is also her 25th birthday. It is also the day I have to go under the knife for wrist surgery. They have not given me many pieces of good news since I developed this cyst. I must wear a brace to prevent further injuries, I must refrain from strenuous activity so I could barely help my sister move, I have to refrain from playing sports until I'm given the OK from my doctor, and post-surgery I cannot play piano for several weeks. In case you are unfamiliar with my wrist injury, I will update you: I tore the lining in my wrist, and the joint fluid underneath came up and formed a large bubble (a.k.a ganglion cyst). I had it drained with large needles, and they told me if it comes back, I'm going to have to have surgery. If not, I'm a free girl. Unfortunately, it did come back, and when it did it was much more aggressive and painful. I have gone to four different doctors for this, and finally God has given us the right one (this doctor was my ortho doctor when I broke my arm in 2005). I am hopeful for a speedy recovery and peace, as this is scary and also a very hard time. God put it this way for a reason, and He will take care of me. This I know.
On a brighter side, choir starts on the 24th!! :)
I can't wait.

My little sister....

My little sister Lydia is the prettiest, awesomest and coolest girl in the world. And my big brother Ben is a fatty. Ginny, you've been hacked sister!





Love: Lydia.