Prayer may not change things for you, but it for sure changes you for things.
KING - Joan King Groves, 78, died Thursday, Sept. 15, 2005. "See ya later alligator," "After while crocodile"-that was our goodbye duet each time we parted, a mother-daughter inside joke about our mutual genetic big noses. I may put that adage on her crematory urn or "I told you I was sick." Mom had that kind of weird sense of humor. I love that she gave it to me. RIP, Mom. Mrs. Groves, originally from Sampson, Ala., and Defuniak Springs, Fla., called many places home as a naval officer's wife. Her last residence was Plantation Drive in King. A daughter, Vivian Groves Fulk; and son-in-law Randy Alan Fulk, also of King, survive her. Pensacola, Fla., was home for many years where she attended nursing training at Sacred Heart Hospital as a Navy cadet nurse from 1945 to 1948. A Navy officer's wife, her first son, Joe Alan Groves, was born in Whidbey Island, Wash.; he now resides in Pensacola. Her second child, Gregory Dale Groves, deceased, was born in Corpus Christie, Texas. She returned to Pensacola many years later after her trek around the country following a Navy officer's career, then bore her third child, Vivian Elaine Groves, and retired from being a Navy officer's wife in 1962. She held a registered-nursing license in California, Tennessee, Texas, Florida, Washington and Maryland. Her favorite residence, though, was Ventura, Calif., where she lived near her sister, June Wilson, from 1963 to 1969 and later returned in 1979, until 1986 when she finally moved to North Carolina to be near her daughter. The love of her life was her father, George Dallas King, interred in Dothan, Ala.; he died when she was 17 years old. She had 13 brothers and sisters, of which she was the youngest girl. She has a surviving sister, Inda Inskeep, of Orlando, Fla.; and a surviving brother, David King, of Crestview, Fla. A memorial service will be conducted at 6 p.m. Saturday, Sept. 24. It will be held at the home and garden of Randy and Vivian Fulk, 342 Goff Road, King, and will be officiated by the Rev. Frank Newsome. In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to Hurricane Katrina victims through the Red Cross. Mom loved New Orleans and lived through many hurricanes, including Camille.
Pics of mom's memorial garden in progress
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The Intruderby Joan GrovesOnce I strayed from the “Sunlit Way” Into the arms of Lucifer I tried so hard to be happy and gay But found I was an intruder An intruder into the lives of men Whose ideals were different from mine Who thought it all right to “shack up” at night And live on idleness and wine A far-fetched goal that destroys the soul And takes from life sublime So I return to the “Sunlit Way” To Seek his Holy Grail Perhaps I’ll never find it here But I won’t wind up in hell Thanks for the Enlightenment Dear And my brief recaptured youth You were seeking only pleasure, I was searching for Truth |
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The Fast Lanesby Joan GrovesOctober 1985My life is winding down Like a clock that is not wound It looses time, it looses ground It can’t keep up the race of The Fast Lanes For every twelve hours that I work The body requires twelve of rest Lord knows I do my best But somehow can’t pass the test of The Fast Lanes Whether I go to Santa Barbara or to Santa Paula It’s still a stress; there is no rest in The Fast Lanes Children crying, dogs barking, squealing facets, Wives scolding, rock and rollers, all add to the stress A calliope of sounds that keep me from my rest in The Fast Lanes The only solution to this dilemma is to get myself A dimmer, ear plugs, sign on the door, “DAY SLEEPER”, “DO NOT DISTURB”, Or quit my job and be a nerd in The Fast Lanes |
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To my son Gregory June 16, 1954 - June 14, 1986By Joan Groves1986Picking wild flowers on my way, To my fishing hole by the bay, I heard the voice of Jesus say, Stay awhile longer, pause and pray For the one who is in the prime of life, Is soon to depart and end all strife, The cares of today and cares of tomorrow Are in his hands to share the sorrow For Greg was a man who was loved by all, And when he was able, he stood tall His illness kept him from coping with life So he’s gone to a better place- in Christ And when we meet him later on Perhaps we’ll pick wild flowers in his home |
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Sixty-First Birthdayby Joan GrovesAt 61, I still have fun But fun in a different way At 51, I was witty and fun And rolled around in the hay The candle was burned by too much fun And too much work, I’d say But now I’m content just to pay the rent And raise roses the livelong day I’m having my fun Just working in the sun Instead of dancing in the Cabaret |
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Will April Ever Come?By Joan Groves March 8 th, 1989They said “Don’t come, the winters will be hard on you”. I didn’t listen, ‘cause I lived where the skies were always blue I didn’t know about the hail, the sleet and snow I wanted to be near my loved ones in order for relationships to grow Some progress has been made in that endeavour But no one no matter how he tries can ever change the weather There is a time for all seasons And a place for everything under the sun But my time for shoveling the snow Has only just begun With God’s help and the ones he sends so true, I can wait for April, just to be near you.
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The Reason for the SeasonBy Joan Groves 2004The glitter and tinsel are gone, Lord I enjoyed it as much as a child As I replace the ornaments until next year, I’m beginning to loose my smile, If only the magic of Christmas Could but last all year long The ones who feel that magic Would forever sing this song: It’s not the glitter and tinsel It’s not the presents so fine It’s the Christ in us, reaching out to others, That makes this season divine So if we could but remember as next Christmas comes along You, Christ, are the reason for the season! I wish it would last all year long. Psalm 30:5 Psalm 30:11 |
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Joe Patti's Seafood Pensacola, Florida Joan loved seafood especially fresh shrimp and oysters from Joe Patti’s. If there was going to be a party, it started first thing in the morning with a trip to Joe Patti’s. She would make Southern Seafood Gumbo which always started out with onions, green peppers, garlic and celery frying in the roux. What a wonderful smell! That is the smell of home. |
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Left to right- 1944, Joan King Groves age 17 right before her dad George Dallas King died, Willie Maud King -my grandmother and an unknown neighbor. This was taken in Defuniak Springs, Florida right before mom went off to nurse's training in Pensacola to Sacred Heart Hospital. |
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Left to right Mom and Betty on Christmas Day 2004. |
September Fifteenth Two Thousand Five in the Year of Our Lordby Vivian Fulk Written in the solitude of the North Carolina mountains at Wildacres retreat during the SoLaTiDo retreat September 25, 2005 with Kate Campbell giving writing lessons and giving us a just released concert of her new album, "Blues and Lamentations". She quoted Job " Naked I came into this world, naked I will go." It was a perfect place and time to mourn my mom. “This is the most difficult part of my job,” Jeff the nurse said as we left the room to wait patiently for the ventilator to be removed. When we came back into the room, the first thing I noticed was he had removed mom’s hospital gown and her thigh and buttocks shone just a few inches from under the folded blanket over her. She was naked, ready to meet her maker- ready to go wherever death takes us. Jeff was sensitive to our shock and covered my mom more appropriately. My mother-in-law Maggie, my husband Randy and I were given rolling nurse’s station chairs to sidle up beside mom’s bed in her ICU isolation room. We were prepared to spend the night awaiting mom’s death. Jeff told us that once the ventilator was removed, it would only be about 20 minutes. My shock deepened. Prior in the day, Palliative Care doctors met with us to tell us mom would not leave the hospital and would probably not come off the ventilator. I hated that thing. After we spoke with the Palliative Care doctors, we went back into mom’s room and I tried to talk to her heart to heart as my therapist had suggested. But all my attention was on the pinch on mom’s face from the tape that held that tube down her throat. Even in her sedated state she twitched her face in discomfort. I tried to smooth the tape but when I touched it, mom started to cough. Her esophagus must be raw from the high acid gastric juices that damaged her esophagus and caused her to hemorrhage four pints of blood the day before. The tube must hurt her throat. I hated that ventilator. It required great restraint not to remove it myself. Then all of the sudden I was talking heart to heart with mom. She said, “Be assertive, don’t apologize.” I heard her voice in the same fashion she had spoke to me over the prior six weeks dealing with the borage of health care professionals. Mom had been a nurse for forty years and understood how to get results. I kept apologizing. “Excuse me” I would say as the nurses station responded to the red button pushed from mom’s bedside. “My mom needs to be changed. Her bandage is leaking again and everything is wet.” The smell was horrifically nauseating. So instead of removing the ventilator myself, I reacted swiftly and decisively to aid my mother. I felt strength well up beyond my own. I went to the nurse’s station in ICU and told them to page her doctor. I wanted the ventilator removed now. The commotion to follow both astounded and relieved me. Over the next several hours, they made the necessary arrangements including giving each of us a box of tissue. There was a designated private waiting room they ushered us into. We waited about an hour for mom’s surgeon to arrive. He had his resident with him and a hospital administrator. After I told them exactly what I wanted to happen through gulping tears, they knew I was serious and did not try to persuade me. I was again astonished and amazed. This strength was not my own but my mother’s. I knew it without a doubt but it felt so strange. The first thing I thought of was that she was channeling me. I don’t know exactly what that means but I felt much stronger in my convictions than usual. My mother-in-law, Maggie and husband Randy were with me and Maggie commented afterward that I was so strong to be so articulate. We were all crying uncontrollably at this point. The issued tissues were appreciated. When we went back into mom’s room after they removed the ventilator, a complete calm came over me. Jeff had turned off the peeping monitors, dimmed the lights and mom was breathing deeply. She started to snore with such familiarity that I laughed through the tears. I talked to mom heart to heart, told her I loved her and to be at peace and rest. I started a mantra between us to the rhythm to her breath- peace, be at peace, peace, be at peace. Then she was gone and I swear I heard, “heeee- heeeee, I’m goin’ dancin’!” Over the next week, as I planned mom’s memorial, I kept coming back to her love of dance. In the past, whenever dancing came into a conversation, she would mention that she and my father won jitter bug contests in their trek around the country at Officer Clubs on bases where they were stationed. For the memorial I downloaded jitterbug music from Rhapsody and started and ended the “shared meal” portion of mom’s memorial with two different renditions of Flyin’ Home- a famous jitterbug song. The officiating pastor’s seven year old daughter, my goddaughter, had been in a play and knew how to jitterbug. She and I danced and I swung my goddaughter around and up in the air. I heard my mom in Aime’s voice, “heeee-heee, I’m dancin’!”
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Not my mom just jitterbug pictures from the internet.....AIN'T LIFE GRAND?!!!!!
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