May 29, 2013

  • Yesterday evening, right around dusk, as I was readying Sophie for bed, I received the call that my dear friend Anna had passed. She was only 28. My mind swirled with memories of her.  She had a fantastic sense of humor, and most of my memories of her involve laughter. She was full of life. She had a strong, contagious spirit and a smile for everyone. She was authentic: she meant every bit of the positive words she preached. Unfortunately, she suffered in her illness. She was honest and let us see those hard parts, but she also made it easy for us, as she never stopped joking, laughing, sending out words of wisdom about leading a healthy life.  She was made of better stuff than I.

     The dog was barking. I thought the mail had come, so I grabbed Sophie and walked outside. Fire trucks lined my street. Lights were flashing and Sophie was repeating “no, no, no.” I went to the mailbox and grabbed the mail and the truck in front of the box hit its horn loudly. This woke me from my trance. Hello, Naomi! The neighbor’s house was on fire.

     I looked around and all up and down the street there were fire trucks and ambulances, and fire fighters were climbing the roof of the neighbor’s house, doing what they had to do to put the fire out.  There was a lot of smoke. All the neighbors on the street were outside, staring at the fire, pointing and talking, speculating about what had happened. The neighbor across the street was waving me over and asking if I was okay. I looked back at our house, and at the proximity to the fire. It was close, but we were fine.

     So much loss. I remember when my friend Anna told me they had found a tumor in her leg, and it never crossed my mind that she would ultimately die from it. I thought it was a terrible, nasty thing to have to endure, but I saw a long life ahead of her. I was wrong. Last month, my two step-daughters lost their grandfather.  He went in for a surgery, and told us all he would be out in a few days. He never came back. He was not done living yet either, and now the girls are missing their grandfather, who was very involved in their life. We also lost my grandmother last month. She had lived a long, full, amazing life, and, like Anna, she made it easy for us, even though she suffered in the end as well. I am grateful she was able to meet Sophie. The world won’t be the same without her.

     I believe I must have been lost in all of this and so I was unable to properly process this last unfortunate event – my neighbor’s house burning. Too surreal. When we finally went back inside, our house smelled of smoke – a smell that persists this morning and that I imagine will take some time to fade completely. But this is life – this loss and destruction and all the things that seem unjust and unfair. Our forefathers knew it better than we do today, as we live in protective bubbles, safe from the weather, predators, and in many ways, safe from truly feeling the loss of those we love. With countless distractions, there are endless ways to remove ourselves from the pain. I don’t think this is doing anything good for our species. I, for one, plan to let myself feel the pain of the loss, even as I celebrate their lives and rejoice that they lived. Our universe is missing them, I am missing them, but so long as I remember, they will remain immortal. Even if it hurts for months, weeks, years, I will feel it. I am tired of all these distractions anyway. They wear on my soul.

    And this is life. Nothing is certain. Security is an illusion. Pain is real. Loss is real. Suffering is real. None of these things can be avoided. The thing that keeps us going, the thing that saves us, is that happiness, growth, gain, love … all of these are also very real, and if we are lucky, we will get an abundance of all of those things as well, which we will appreciate all the more for knowing how to hurt and suffer. 

     This post may seem sad. I guess it is. But it’s not all sad. These people that we lost were important and they led good lives and they will be missed and they will be remembered. And the neighbors are okay and no one was hurt. And honestly, it is okay to feel sad sometimes. It really is.

April 16, 2013

  • April 16, 2013

    Well, we did it. Sophie and I made our big trip to the Deep South to visit Mamaw and Papaw. I am eternally grateful that we were able to do this. We had a wonderful trip full of memories that will last a lifetime, including listening to my grandmother sing songs to her youngest great-granddaughter, direct descendent number 22, Sophie Dawn. That was an emotional experience. She also put her toes in the bay and walked along the beach for the first time. We played at every park we could find, including all the ones I played at as a child. Sophie got to play with her cousins Oz, Ella Catherine and John Thomas, and she got to meet her aunt Mia and uncle David, and countless other extended family – great aunt Barbara, my cousin Kris and his wife April, my nieces Simone and Britta, and my nephew Joseph. Most importantly though, she was able to spend some very valuable time with her great-grandparents. Her great-grandpa (Papaw) is the only grandfather she will ever meet, as both my dad and Ron’s dad passed away long before she was born. Allowing her to spend some time with him was very important to me, as was meeting Mamaw before she passes. I do believe it was the last time I will see my dear grandmother. She was clearly very uncomfortable, and my grandfather was clearly very sad and distressed. He refuses to sleep in their joint bed since she can no longer be there (she is in a hospital bed in the living room), choosing instead to sleep on the bottom bunk in the back room. He cries when he thinks no one can hear. They have been married over 70 years. I don’t think he will stick around long when she is gone. The visit was bittersweet, but I will treasure it for the remainder of my life.

    In any case, not only was it a lovely visit with family, but we also really enjoyed the beauty of springtime on the eastern shore. The flowers were all in bloom, the trees were majestic and graceful, and we treasured every minute of springtime in a place where there are plants!  If it weren’t for the mostly closed-minded attitudes you find so rampant in the South, I’d move back there in a heart beat. It definitely feels like one of my homes. But most of them are not my people. I need to find our people, and move there. I’m still not sure where that is.

    Overall, it was a wonderful trip. I’m forever grateful we were able to make it. Sophie travels well. She was alert and curious and funny, and only had a few challenging moments fueled by overstimulation and exhaustion. I’m so proud of her. On the first leg of the plane ride there, she slept peacefully. On the second, she played and ate and chatted with me and her Nana. On the way back, it was about the same, except Nana was not with us.

    In other sad news, Jamie and Carina lost their grandfather this weekend. He had been attempting to recover from a surgery, but pneumonia would not let him. We are all very shocked and saddened by this, as he was in no way done living. He was very involved in the girls’ lives and he will be sorely missed.  2013 is turning out to be a tough year for the elders in our clan.

    Anyway, gotta get back to work. Hope you are all doing well!

     

     

     

     

     

February 19, 2013

  • This is my grandparents on their honeymoon, over seventy years ago. Five kids, eleven grandchildren, and thirteen great-grand kids later, they are in the late twilight of their life together. The sun is setting. My grandmother is dying.

    This is the cycle of life, yes, but it it also marks the end of an era. My grandmother is the Materfamilia. My grandparents are the epicenter of our family, the sun of our family’s universe, the heart of our family body. All family energy runs through them: the hurt, the love, the pain, the forgiveness, the growth, the gain, the loss — everything. They have brought our large, extended family together for decades. They bear witness to every family event, no matter the magnitude. They welcome our friends and those adopted by love as members of the family. They are irreplaceable. A torch of this sort cannot be passed.

    My grandmother is glorious and Godly and her sunset, like her life, is awe-inspiring. When the last light twinkles from her spirited eyes, it will not be gone forever. It will live on inside each of her kin, and in all those she has welcomed and loved with her warm embrace into the family. I know this, yet tonight I find myself unable to sleep as I wander my memories with my cherished grandparents — all the roads we have traveled, all the ways both small and large that they have impacted my life. I send a warm blanket of love across the miles in which to wrap them both as they cross this new landscape the same way they have crossed all others — together. As I try to find a path to sleep, I pray that I may see them one last time, so I may put my head on my grandmother’s chest, listen to the heartbeat of the family, and be thankful.

January 12, 2013

  • Sophie is asleep, and here I sit, browsing through some photos I took of her the other day, my heart simply bursting with love for this child. It is the kind of love you just can’t prepare yourself for, unimaginable as it is. I wonder if biology makes all mothers feel this way, or if there is something extra in the way I feel – something born in the years of wanting, and the resignation that it will never be. Either way, I have to say it is the most amazing thing I have ever felt and I am grateful for every atom of this child. I am grateful to know this kind of love. I am grateful to be able to give this sort of love.

    Of course, I worry a little. I know I should be engaging in more me-centered activities, doing more things I enjoy so I don’t lose … Me. But honestly, I just don’t want to. I read every single night, and second to snuggling Sophie, that’s my favorite thing to do anyway. I also have been trying to knit, although time for that is scarce. And I am cooking new recipes daily. If it weren’t for my begrudging attitude about cleaning and laundry every damned day, I’d almost be a stereotypical housewife. But I digress. My point is, I am doing what I want to do right now. She is only going to be a baby for a little while. Time flies. FLIES. So, why not? What’s a few solid years watching and warming to every new development? What’s wrong with squeezing every bit of happy from these first few years? Am I less of an individual, less of a feminist, for doing so? I think not.

    So, kindly stand back and let me observe my child in play, and then let me post excessive photos of said child. If you feel the urge to judge, do so quietly and under your breath. Thank you.

    Love, truly, to all.

January 2, 2013

  • Sophie touched snow for the first time ever yesterday. She is definitely intrigued by the stuff. We are up here at the cabin and it is a winter wonderland, though I imagine it won’t be by week’s end. Whatever. I’m loving it. I needed it. Yay, yay, yay. Or as Sophie loves to say, “weeeeeeeeee!” She has said that a lot this trip, as she loves novel things and every single thing this visit is new. I’m grateful. Good night, all.

December 26, 2012

  • Protected post up. I don’t know if this works the way it used to when I used to go on Xanga all the time, but I just didn’t want it to be available to just anyone on the Internet. So, if you can’t see it and want o and I know you, just let me know. Hugs.

November 25, 2012

  • We had a lovely Thanksgiving which we spent with Natalie and Eric at Eric’s dad’s house. It was nice to have a year off of hosting, but I do miss the leftovers. Sophie had a blast climbing up and down the stairs, dancing to the music, and exploring all the new terrain. She also fell asleep in Jamie’s arms which was definitely heartwarming to see. When we are given one of those moments of deep affection, it’s important to not let them just slide by without notice.

    Tonight I am letting my house remain messy, the laundry unfolded, the dishes sit dirty. I’ve cooked a (hopefully) delicious dinner and now I just feel like relaxing with my wee one. My considerable load of chores can wait. I’ve a feeling they’ll be there tomorrow.

    How are you all?

November 14, 2012

  • I haven’t been on here in weeks, mostly because I haven’t been able to think clearly to write. Much has happened though, so I thought I better write while it’s all still relevant.

    Sophie is walking (almost running!) like a champ. She’s happy, engaged, verbal, and oh so fun! She loves animals and babies and hugs them tightly whenever she gets the opportunity! We are still doing many playdates each week, which we both find much value in.
    Carina is still kicking butt her freshman year. Good grades, made JV soccer on a very competitive team, and seems to have a good group of friends.
    Jamie has had some tough times. About a month after she moved out, she wound up in the ICU. She is now with us again, and we are working to get her the help she needs to thrive. I know in my gut she will ultimately shine brightly and be healthy. She is just taking the hard road to get there. Sometimes people need to do that. We still love and support her with all we have.

    All in all, we continue to float on. I am excited to become a baking champion this winter, and I still love this job more than anything I’ve ever done. Miss the paychecks, but love the work!

    Hope all is well for you and yours.

October 13, 2012

  • Now that Sophie is learning how to more effectively communicate she is almost drunk with power. She points, says “eh” or something that sounds like dog, and I say “yes, dog!” She smiles a great smile, points, says, “eh” and I say, “cup? Do you want your cup?” This game continues all day long, and nothing seems to make her happier than to finally, at long last, be able to effectively communicate her wants and needs. Of course, there is the downside that comes when my little interlocutor doesn’t get the item she really wants, like, say, mommy’s coffee. But mostly this stage is just great fun. And now she is pointing at my iPad with her “want” eyes. Uh oh.

October 12, 2012

  • Since my last post, my wee one has started walking and I have therefore started chasing! She is perpetual motion. She chatters up a storm and is starting to really communicate wants and needs and, oh my, opinions! Every stage is even more fun, it seems! Always challenging, but always my new favorite thing.

    It’s finally starting to feel like fall around here, which is a glorious thing. It’s my favorite time of year, after all. We have been toying with the idea of moving somewhere that actually has four seasons, but right now it is all just wishful thinking. Maybe one day.

    Money is tight these days, and we are having to get creative with new ways to sustain ourselves. That’s ok. It keeps us from being complacent and makes us constantly improve. I miss having reliable paychecks though. And insurance. But these are the sacrifices we make, and it is a rare person who can truly have it all. I am just grateful for every day I am able to stay home and be present with Sophie.

    We had some new friends come over to play, and they have a Sophie also, so big Sophie got to play with little Sophie (my Sophie) and little Sophie got to hug a baby, her favorite thing ever! Then big Sophie got to hug her, and the circle was complete.

    How are you all?