More non-knitting; rather weepy for me at least

Let me tell you why I feel sorry for Brittany Spears and Anna Nicole Smith and why Craig Ferguson has earned my respect. It goes back many, many years.

When my husband and I got married in 1980, my niece was 11. Depending on whom you talk to, she started drinking at age 12 or 13. Life went on. Her parents dealt with counselling (individual and family). She had court enforced treatments . . . going as well as those types of things usually do. Sometimes she lived with someone and held a job and sometimes, she called the streets her home.

When she was 25, she had a baby. For her 27th birthday, she, her current beau (aka provider of the proverbial "roof") and baby celebrated her birthday until the wee hours of the morning. Things happened and our local Department of Children and Family Services (DCFS) stepped in. Her daughter was removed from her custody and placed with a family member. Because she has never changed her lifestyle, she has never seen her daughter since. The daughter was adopted when she was 3-1/2. She will be 13 next month.

Seven years later, she had another daughter. The baby tested positive for cocaine at birth. The father's mother stepped in and has custody of that child who is now 7.

A year later, she had a son, by the same father as her second child. We were all amazed. For whatever reason, DCFS decided to give her a chance with this one. When he was four months old, he was removed and placed with the family that had the oldest daughter. He was adopted when he was 2-1/2.

A year later, she had another daughter, again by the same father (at least she thinks so). DCFS decided that she would not take this one home and another family member (bless her) stepped in and volunteered to help. She was adopted by them when she was 1.

She calls me. A lot. She remembers to call on my birthday and my husbands and her kids. She calls on holidays and has an incredible sense of knowing when the rest of the family will be at the house for non-holidays gatherings. She sends me Mother's Day cards.

I have always, ALWAYS been honest with her.
I have cried with her and laughed with her.
I have yelled at her, told her I was disappointed and pled with her to get help.
I have told her that she has wasted her life.
I have been nasty and mean and kind and gentle.
I have tried tough love and forgiving love.
When she has told me that I am not being "fair," I point out that what is not fair is that someday, I will have to explain to those beautiful children that their Mom choose a beer over them.
I will not allow my children, who were born from her womb, to see her or be seen by her.
I believe in my heart, that it would serve no purpose whatsoever and would cause more pain than necessary.
I have also told her that when it is needed, I will tell our children that their Mom loved them, but I will not lie to them.
She gave us an incredible gift, actually two. Lindsey will be 13 in two weeks. Zachariah just turned 6, and we are the ones they call Mommy and Daddy. We share the butterfly kisses and snuggles and hugs.
She is dying. She is 38. Her kidneys and liver are failing. She has been spending more time in the hospital than out of it. She is a terrible patient, checking herself out against medical advice and still not listening to those of us who love her.

And then there are times that I see

this beautiful little blonde girl

. . . dancing and singing . . .

. . . so innocent and kind . . .

. . . full of laughter and . . .

. . . hope for the future . . .

While the little blonde girl was my niece at my wedding, it could have easily been Anna Nicole or Brittany. Hopefully, someone will be able to reach Brittany who is teetering on the edge of destruction. It is too late for my niece and Anna Nicole.

And to Craig Ferguson, you are gentleman. You will always have my respect.