The Old Die Young

Let's get a little sentimental, shall we? My biggest fear in life would have to be my loved one's dying before me. It's something I've been fortunate enough not to have to endure thus far, but its one of those things where you just feel it could be around any corner. Well lets face it, it really could be around any corner. I've always thought of myself as a strong person, one who could break down and categorize my feelings and emotions and deal with them accordingly (.... that sounds so robotic :s ). I often wonder how I would deal with the death of a loved one, would I be able to categorize? Would I be able to deal in a healthy way? Although I know what death will mean for me in my religious standpoint, it doesn't mean it will happen like that for everyone I love. Maybe that is what I fear the most, will I ever see that person again. In heaven you will know no sadness, does that mean the people that I know and love that are not Christians will be completely forgotten? I'll be living it up in heaven and a lot of people will be in the fiery pits but to me it wont matter? I shed a tear for those souls, I wish they would know, I wish they would repent. My heart would be a lot less heavy and I'd be ready for death like a coffee at 8am Monday! Imagine that, everyone welcoming Jesus into their heart's, of course we'd still lead a life of sin because lets face it, we're human but EVERYONE would go to heaven, I'd want to die tomorrow! But this world is not like that, and we are in fact still human so I will be trying my best to lead an example and pray that I will see you all up there.

Anyway, what brought all of this on is a dream that I had. Two nights ago I dreamt I was in the army (irrelevant but it was cool), my Grandpa (my Mom's Dad) was also in the army and we were walking side by side, arms around each other, talking and laughing. I don't remember the exact words, I know he told me a joke and I laughed. I also pointed something out to him in the distance and we talked about it. I woke up and my heart was swelling (with happiness, no I do not have a heart condition people). See my Grandpa has a hard time hearing, when you talk to him you have to yell. He can usually hear men a little better because their voices are deeper (good thing I have a man voice lol!), because of this people tend to avoid talking to him if they don't have to. I know that I'm guilty of this as well. Not only does he have a hearing problem but he doesn't speak perfect English, so if you're not repeating yourself because you spoke too quietly, you might be repeating yourself because he just didn't understand.

A few months ago my Mom had told me that Grandpa had said no one came to visit him at home (Grandma was in the hospital for about a year), and that he should just stay at home because no one liked to talk to him because he couldn't hear them anyway. When my Mom had told me that I guess it really hit me, I was always thinking -He's not going to hear me anyway, I don't want to repeat myself all the time, or, I don't want to be in the room alone with him. I feel so ashamed of myself. I was always thinking of me, I never once thought of how my Grandpa must feel, knowing people may go out of their way NOT to talk to him. So I have made it a point to go the extra mile when around my Grandpa and talk more with him. You never know how long your loved one's are going to be around and you really must take advantage of the time you have together now. I know everyone always says that but sometimes you might need a little extra push to help it sink it further.

Unfortunately I do not have any pics of my Grandpa handy so instead I'll leave you on a lighter note, showing you my convo with my brother Matt.

This may not be as funny to any of you but I'm STILL laughing!!! Too good.

To Serve and Protect??

For those of you that know me you'd know that my brother's are... well... less then saints for lack of a better word. Having said that, I'd also like to point out how hard it is to be the sibling of trouble makers. My two brother's aren't your average left-the-milk-on-the-counter-overnight kind of trouble makers, they're more so the run-ins-with-the-law kind of trouble makers. Last year was one of the hardest years of my life. Both of my brother's ended up going to jail at the same time. One was for 5 months and the other was 8 months. To some that may not seem like long but when you're not getting answers and waiting and wondering- it feels like a lifetime. I wont get into that part of my life right now, it deserves its own post entirely, but I just wanted to set the background for this post.

Seeing as I've gone through a lot of ups and downs being the sister, I know when it's right to punish someone, and I know when its wrong. My brother's have made mistakes, and they have had to be punished for this. Did I agree with those punishments? Yes, sometimes. Don't even get me started on our justice system in Manitoba though, it is flawed at its best. A few months ago something happened to my older brother and I 100% did not agree with how it panned out. I was so upset at what had happened that I wanted to do something about it. I wanted to speak up, to be heard, so I wrote an article for the paper. A big part of me felt like it wouldn't get published simply because in my article I "attack" the intentions of the local police, but I tried anyway. As expected, they did not publish my article. So I thought I'd post it on here. Maybe it wont be read by many, maybe nobody at all, but I need to know that it is out there to be read. I need to know it wont go completely unnoticed. So without further ado, this was my unpublished article:

 Growing up I was taught that Police were there to protect the public, that laws were put in place for a reason and those who broke those laws were brought to justice. I was taught to abide by authority without question, but as I grew older I realized I did have questions. If I have to answer to the law, and as a Christian I whole heartedly believe I do, then who do law enforcement have to answer to? I’m sure there is a chain of command and each person has to answer to another but in my life experiences it seems as though the local police feel they can do as they please. I feel like I’ve been discriminated against simply because of my last name. I had my first run in with the law when I was 17, the situation was minor and I was not at fault but while sitting in the back seat of the cop car the officer read my last name aloud. I could hear in his tone that I was being judged. As I sat in the back seat I was questioned on my brother, what he was up to, if he was still dating the same girl, I gave vague answers, after all I was the one in that car, not my older brother. I walked away from the situation feeling wronged. I doubted my own intentions and integrity. Those police officers made me feel like my name was tainted. I cringed when people would say my last name, I didn’t want to be associated with it. I was ashamed. The people that were supposed to protect and serve me made me feel ashamed of who I was. Granted it was most likely unintentional, some might argue that it was a tactic to scare me out of doing wrong, I’d argue that my upbringing is why I’ve stayed on the right path.

         

   This was the beginning of my ill feelings towards my local police officers, it only escalated from there. While being perfectly honest, my brother has recently been to jail. Was this just? Yes and no. He’s done things that had consequences, and he has served his time for it. I’ll be the first to admit he deserved it, I’ll also be the first to say he deserves a fresh start. Obviously the police have their eye out for my brother, I don’t blame them. What I do blame them for is treating a person badly because they have a bad history.  People do wrong every day, does this mean they don’t deserve a chance to change? I’m writing this article because I feel people aren’t always given that chance. Two weeks ago my brother came home to his apartment that he still lived in with an ex girlfriend. He came home and her dad was there alone and drunk. My brother had also been drinking. He opened the fridge to find his food had been eaten, after which an argument ensued about eating the food he bought for himself. After heated words were exchanged my brother sat down on the couch, at this point the ex girlfriends father towered over him and started punching my brothers face. Before he knew what was happening and could shield his face there was blood everywhere. After this act of rage my brother called the police to get this man out of his house. Two young police officers, I believe they are relatively new to Winkler’s police force, showed up and assessed the situation. My brother’s face was bruised and swollen, a quarter of his front tooth was chipped off and he had a few cuts on his face, after taking this all in the police told my brother that they wouldn’t do anything because the fight was mutual. My brother was attacked in his own home by a man twice his size and he called the police as a form of protection and he was told by them that this fight was mutual! Then my brother was angry and said “If I had a baseball bat this fight would have been mutual” at this point one of the officers pinned my brother on the ground and accused him of threatening the officers with a baseball bat. They then arrested my brother and escorted him out of the building and into the “drunk tank.” Me being the average person would have also taken in my brother, and by that I mean I’d rather deal with a 175 pound drunk male then a 250 pound drunk male, but I’m just that- an average person, not the police. I could also argue that race was a deciding factor, 175 pound drunk white male versus 250 pound drunk native male. Did these young officers have something to prove?   Have our law enforcement officers become racist or just simply lazy? Just to paint an accurate picture for you, the ex girlfriend’s father has also recently gotten out of jail.  After being brought to the police station my brother asked to make a statement at which point he was told he could not, he then asked to make a phone call to his lawyer at which point he was again denied. He spent the night in the cell and was released the next day. 

          

  Given this outcome, I am writing this to say: If I get attacked in my own home, who am I supposed to call? Would my last name decide the outcome of an arrest? Would I be denied my rights as a citizen of this city? To me, all of this does not sound just, to me, this does not sound like serving and protecting. I am but one voice, all I’m asking is to be heard.