At 11 Months...335 Days

At 11 months ... 335 days after ... I am sitting in the living room of my childhood.
It doesn't look the same.  The gold flowered all paper, brown paneling, and green shag carpet have been gone for about 27 years ... the same length of time I have been teaching.  I remember living through Pop doing the remodel himself.  Now, 27 years later, I have worked in spaces in this little brick house and discovered my father's handwriting and other methods of what I have called Fredification.  I would often come in, through the back door where I would immediately see her sitting in her chair.  Usually, she would be crocheting a baby blanket for someone that she most likely knew but then again, maybe my sister or I would snag it for someone having a baby that she would not know.  I would announce that when I get to heaven, Pop and I were going to have a serious conversation about home remodel.  She would laugh and keep crocheting.  

335 days later ... I still walk through that same back door ... there is no MoMo.  Since she left on her journey, there have been similar instances of finding things that have been the victims of MoMofication.  Though, most of that has been in the form of the "As Seen On TV" items that it has sometimes taken a few days, weeks, or months to figure out just exactly what it for.  

335 days later ... the two matching high back Lazy Boy recliners have long been sold. In the days following her leaving, my son and I could simply not handle seeing "the chair."  We moved the two chairs in her walk in closet for about a month and then took them to a resale shop.  Houses that were built in 1876 are very square and because most were built in sections, you can walk a complete circle through the first floor.  We came in the back door and there was "the chair."  We came down the stairs and there was "the chair."  You had to pass "the chair" to get to the front door to get the mail.  You have to pass "the chair" to get to the kitchen.  It didn't matter what direction (which was limited) we came, there was "the chair."  I replaced the rug in the living room within the week because it still just looked like it did that night we found her.  335 days later, I can look at the rug that is currently in the room and know that it will be replaced soon.  More for the reason that since my dog (who is 12, a lab and named Isis - and is also not a terrorist) is no longer able to always hold her bladder and or bowels when I have to pull long nights for Parent-Teacher Conferences because she no longer has her personal butler during the day.  You really cannot teach old dogs new tricks.  It will be replaced with an indoor/outdoor rug.  For the past two weeks, I have been very restless about the arrangement of the furniture in the living room.  While it is for the most part the same furniture as when she was here - minus the two chairs, something just isn't fitting.   

Today on Facebook, the memory that popped up was from a year ago.  A year ago, my son and I went to University of Central Missouri for one of their Choose Red days.  He chose Red that day.  It was exactly a month before she left that pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place to let her know that everything was good and she could go.  

A week ago, I had my first birthday without MoMo.  The card she gave me last year sits on my jewelry box in my bedroom.  It is my forever birthday card from her.

As my year of first are winding down, I find myself in an odd place.  My son is now at college and it is just myself.   Well, it is myself and Isis along with 4 cats inside.  I have Destiny and Lily still along with Gracie, MoMo's cat.  It took Gracie a good month and a half to let me touch her without her hissing at me, which was really not abnormal.  The problem was that she had not had any human contact because MoMo wasn't there.  In March, one of my student's grandmother passed away and had a number of furry creatures.  One that needed a home desperately was Oliver, a yellow and white domestic short hair cat.  I had to take him because he was in the same position that Gracie was, his MoMo had left too.  In July, Harry adopted me in the back yard.  Harry is a gray and black tabby cat that seems be displaced.  So, I have a fifth cat that owns me but hasn't made it inside yet.  So, technically, I am not alone and I am sure that if anyone could over hear the conversations that I have with the any one of the animals would think I was completely off my rocker.  

I am lost.  Lost in a way that I have never been lost.  It isn't dark but there is a sublime (like that for the addition of a little transcendentalism) light.  I walked around today looking at the crafts in the booths at our downtown fall festival and just felt I was wandering aimlessly without any particular direction.  

I am not motivated.  I have yet to work into my school routine daily trips to the gym.  I go to school every day but do not feel the motivation or that it is where I am supposed to be.  I go to bed at night, often at 7:30 on a school night because I simply am done for my day.  

I lack direction.  The only thing that I do know about the path I am traveling is that I am eligible for retirement in July 2021 with full benefits and I will retire.  See one of my previous posts about why I will retire.  Otherwise, I wonder just where I am going and what I am doing.  

I think of ways to make the house my own but not lose the sense of comfort and peace that I felt in October of 2015 when I moved back into my childhood home.  I know that comfort and peace came because of the security that came with my MoMo being here.  My sister recently came to visit.  At one point she made the comment that the house is so much work and that you may not be able to keep up with it alone.  In my heart and mind, leaving this house is not an option.  It is the only place that I feel I belong.  If I didn't have to go to school, the store, where ever, I honestly think I would become completely content to observe this world from the windows of this house or to sit on the patio in the back and listen to the cicadas trying to be louder than the noises of cars that pass by or the voices of people in the neighborhood.  I can sit with my eyes closed and know that this is the only place or thing I am sure about in this world, right now.  

On day 336, tomorrow, I will go to church and assist.  I will look out at the amazing family that I have at the little church on the hill and see MoMo's chair next to her best friend empty.  I will hold back the tears that I have been welling up for 335 days.  I will know that I am loved there.  I will come home and walk in the back door and see her reclined in the chair that is no longer there as if she were asleep.  I will see the paramedics pulling her out of her chair and laying her on the floor and the pop of each metal snap on her duster she was wearing.  I will see them working on her and Thomas helping them.  I will hear the gasp of my sister on the phone when I told her that I could not talk because I was waiting for the ambulance to come because I thought that MoMo was dead.  I will hear the sirens and see the neighbors come out of their front doors.  I will see Pastor Aimee's face when I arrived at the hospital and she met me on the parking lot outside the ER and told me that she was gone.  That has been the one constant in my life since October 23, 2016.  No matter the changes in my life ... that has been the one thing that has not changed.  

Ode to Single Parents

My childhood was that of the 1970's.  It was filled with anthems of the empowerment of women from Loretta Lynn's "The Pill" to Jeannie C. Riley's "Harper Valley P.T.A" to Helen Reddy's "I am Woman" to "I Will Survive" by Gloria Gaynor.  Some were picked up as anthems for the Equal Rights Amendment (ERA).  The ERA was never passed and women along with the company of other minorities ... basically, anyone but white males, still make less income (in most industries) and fight every day to provide the basic needs and some wants to their children.  This is not going to be an essay proclaiming hatred for white males or males or what is wrong with our social system.   This is what it is going to be, it is going to be a celebration of how far this girl has come.  

In 1997, I was married to the father of my children.

In 1998, I adopted our oldest son (the result of his father's first marriage).

In 1999, I gave birth to our youngest son.  The boys are seven years apart.

From 1997 to 2012, I was what I termed a "firehouse widow."  This meaning that the man I was married to was a firefighter/paramedic on rotating 24-hour shifts full time along with working for a local ambulance service that more often than not left me at home with the boys alone.  

I stayed in the marriage for a number of reasons that are better left to when I actually write my book.  For this particular post, I can tell you one of the main reasons was because I did not think that I could financially provide for both of the boys and myself without a second income.  I have learned a lot about money over the past four years and the hardest but best lessons have come from having to live the reality of filing for bankruptcy.  My ex filed for bankruptcy without me and received a Chapter 7 (didn't have to pay back).  Almost two years from the date that we were formally divorced, I filed and received a Chapter 13 (you pay back).  I held out for as long as I did because I wanted to prove to myself that I did not NEED the second income and I did not NEED a man to support me.  I cannot tell you that I did not receive help from time to time from my mother because I did.  What I can tell you though is that I can sure as hell stretch a $5 balance in my bank account almost 10 days.  I have gone without many wants that in reality, I really didn't want.  I have also done without needs so that my son (our oldest was already out of the house when we divorced) would have everything that he needed and some of what he wanted.  Since the divorce, I have never relied on the child support that has been owed to me and my youngest son because for some reason, it never went through our state child-support enforcement system.  The amount of delinquent child support owed to our son is in the two-digit thousands.  I have previously written about moving in with my mother because I had proven to myself that I could stand on my own two feet and it was time for me to stop making my life harder, especially financially, than it needed to be.  For almost a year, both my mother and I cut some expenses and all three of us were able to enjoy a few more wants than in the past.  For my mother, it was the development of an addiction to the Bread Co. for lunch.  

In October of 2016, when my mother left for her journey, I rightfully and audibly made the statement on the way to the hospital, "Where are we going to live if she is gone?"  To date, I am still in my childhood home and paying the second mortgage and HELOC she left behind on the house. We do have weeks where there are no wants and only needs.  I still shop at re-sale stores, ALDI, and really struggle to even pay the sale price on something at Target, Kohls, or JC Penny.  For teachers, school districts close out their fiscal year as of June 30th.  There are no paychecks typically generated until the start of the following school year starts so the month of July and the start of August can be fairly lean.  The past two summers, I have worked as a teacher's aide for the high school credit recovery to pay legal bills and to be able for us to get a few of those wants.  I have worked in after school study halls and covered classes and at one time, I actually worked the front desk of a local hotel both Saturday and Sunday nights and netted a paycheck in the amount of child support we had not been receiving. 

I am not telling you any of this for you to be angry with the boys' father, to feel sorry for me, or to make people even think that she had it easier than I did.  I tell you this because it is my path that I have walked.  This is the pair of shoes that I have worn.  It also sets the stage for the validation that I received today.  I have been working my ass off since filing my son's FASFA using only my information to be told that the Expected Family Contribution (i.e....MY contribution) to our son's education would be $13,000.  Yeah, right is what I thought then.  I have completed financial aid forms, applied for scholarships, for assistance through Division of Vocational Rehabilitation, completed the form indicating that since I have filed for a bankruptcy in the past four years....our son is eligible for $4000 extra in unsubsidized national student loan, I have searched for scholarships and forced our son to sit and complete surveys.  The one thing that I have not done is to force our son to get a job because of the custody arrangement.  In the past few weeks, since his graduating from high school, I have been in a panic because I was not eligible to co-sign on a private student loan for $10,000.  He was not allowed to get one without a co-signer because he doesn't have a FICO score.  My thought was that he had just turned 18 and graduated high school, he should not have a FICO score.  After a conversation with my sister, we don't remember it being this difficult 30 years ago.  There are no family members on either side of the DNA pool that can co-sign.

Today, in the mail, came the first-semester bill for our son's education.  For someone that is still paying back her student loans from 30 years ago through her bankruptcy, teaching personal finance (that is irony worthy of a totally separate post), and teaching College 101...I know that there are three things that anyone who goes to college is guaranteed: death, taxes and student loans.  I had our son open the bill himself...yep, a little reality 101.  His response was "WOW that is a lot of money."  He looked at me and I basically told him now you know why I have been such a bitch about you applying for scholarships etc.  I reach out my hand and he handed me the bill.  I looked at the current term's charges and then the current term's payments.  I looked at the balance due and realized that there was not one of is awarded scholarships.  I also realized that with his funding from Direct Subsidized and Unsubsidized Stafford Loans, a foundation scholarship, and his Red/Black Scholarship and then subtracting the scholarship not posted, the balance owed for the first semester was what I netted in one paycheck.  

This showed me that not only can I stand on my own two feet period, I can do it financially and support my son.   Will I do without a few wants, if that is what it takes for my son to go to college, I sure as hell will and I will make sure that it is known that I did it.  I will have to be creative and will have to do without and I can do all of this knowing that my son's future is bright and no one person, no one man is needed for this single mom to make sure that her child or children have what they need and some of their wants and can get the life that they want and deserve.

Sometimes in Life, Endings are Completely Unsatisfying

Before choosing to read this, please note that I believe this to be a side of me that few have seen.  This post is very specific to recent events in my life and I have chosen to post it not out of spite.  By no means does this post provide for me a completely satisfying ending, but what it does bring is some form of closure and the ability to move forward.   To find my way back to that teacher/that person that I used to be...A journey that has been painful, loving, disheartening, hysterical, and at times with completely unsatisfying endings.  This post is done with the realization that I was not given the respect back that I had given.  You can say that this post is disrespectful if you choose, but know that this post does leave out some extremely sensitive information that, in it's own time, will fuel the fire known as Karma.  I don't have to be there or even know that it is has happened.  The reality is we are all accountable for our choices and if you do truly love someone, you hold them accountable.  And when you do that, know that if they are not able to hold themselves accountable for their choices, they will inevitably take the cowards way out.

No matter how old your children get, they will always say the most profound things at just the right time and have no clue that they have done it.  My youngest son, walked into the room at a friend's house the other day, and announced that he had been waiting for the last chapter of this online novel to post and then the ending was completely ... he gasped with frustration, "unsatisfying."  I responded with, "Well, there are a lot of endings in life that are completely unsatisfying."  The friend and I had been discussing the ending of my recent almost a year relationship with her foster brother and this impending blog post.  She looked at me and I at her and with that, I had the title for this post.  What I did not have, well I had it but it was all completely filled with anger and second guessing myself and trying to figure out what I had done wrong when I really already knew that I had not done anything wrong. History is extremely important in knowing how I arrived at this "completely unsatisfying" ending.

About a year ago, through the previous mentioned friend, I reconnected with a family from my childhood.  She was one of three siblings that were the last foster kids the family would have and lived two houses down from me.  The father had had a stroke and was in a local nursing home struggling with the effects of having had the stroke while sitting in his vehicle at a stop light and then coming to and putting the vehicle over a ravine opposite the stop light.  When we arrived at the nursing home, the father and mother were there with two of their sons and two grandchildren.  The father, who had been struggling to remember names and faces, remembered both her and I immediately.   We chatted with everyone for a while and during that time as I was speaking with the one son, that if you have read previous posts have come to know him as Thomas.  I asked him how life was.  With an very angry and sarcastic response, he stated that he had two ex-wives, both of which had lied and cheated on him and there isn't a woman that wants to date him.  I replied with something to the nature of  don't be a blast of sunshine and look at the positives.  I told him that any time he wanted to swap disaster relationships and divorces to just call or come by, I lived in my childhood home.  About a week later, childhood friends reconnected and re-established a friendship.  We joked that one of the reasons we where spending time together was because we were the only ones answering each other's texts.  During one of our adventures either doing work on my house or sitting by the fire pit at his house or building a queen size storage under the bed frame, that friendship evolved.  We both admitted to have the most fun that we have had not just in a long time but period with someone.  The relationship evolved, I imposed the 90-day Steve Harvey policy (if you don't know what that is then you need to watch "Act Like a Lady, Think Like a Man), and the love-word bomb had been uttered first by Thomas.  It was hard for me to hear because I had not really heard it in a long, long time and it really meant something coming from the other person.  

The relationship was far from perfect and we had many ups and downs.  I struggled to separate home and work while Thomas struggled with the demands of a teacher and a girlfriend that had been a workaholic and used work as a way to escape.  I had been struggling to do that but felt that I was really close and then a completely unsatisfying ending happened, MoMo left for heaven.   Thomas stood by my side.  My world was in a tailspin.  Then almost six months to the day, Thomas's father left for heaven and his world went into a tailspin.  We struggled for the next six weeks to figure out what direction we were going.  Marriage had been discussed once his divorce from his second wife (previously mentioned during the ray of sunshine moment) a number of time between the journeys our respective parents and best friends had taken.  

I was being pulled in close and then pushed away through the form of a text message.  This became the norm for until Memorial Day, when we both finally seemed to land at one the same place, at the same time.  Thomas even said that he had talked to one of his confidants that while we didn't have it perfect, who does, we are making it work, we are working it through.  A week later, his wife had finally agreed to meet him at his bank to get their signatures notarized on their completed divorce petition on Monday and that she would be filing them.  He looked at me and smiled and said "So, babe, when are we getting married?"  I told him let's see how long it takes her to get them filed.  Everything was clicking, but while it was clicking, I was failing to see signs.  Signs that I thought I would never have to see again in my life because I had found my forever. I had found someone else that had been the faithful one in previous marriages.  I had found someone that believed "Don't lie or cheat.  You do, you are gone."  In hindsight, I can see the signs prior to receiving the confirmation but at the same time trying not to believe that it was all happening again.

As we were both falling asleep, I got a message on Facebook Messenger that indicated that she had been dating Thomas for two months and wanted to know why I had left my pillow at his house and why I thought I would be going to his brother's house.  I asked him and after he read the message and stated "She sent that to you?" had his back to me.  He did not look me in the eye when I asked about the extent of the relationship.  In hindsight, I can tell you that I should have right then kicked his ass out of my bed, my house and my life...but I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.  We had been on and off, it was possible.  Within forty-eight hours, an ending that was unsatisfying in mammoth proportion had happened.   The one person that I thought would not cheat on me or lie to me had.  He had violated his own moral code.  He had done to me, what had been done to both of us by others.  I searched to figure out what I had done wrong besides love this man with all I am.  He would not speak to me in person, by text, a year's work of work and love and planning was done.

The queen size storage under the bed has become a symbol of a "completely unsatisfying" ending.  I have started to dismantle the bed to re-purpose the wood for the walk-in closet in MoMo's old bedroom.  The dismantle of this has become as "completely unsatisfying" as the ending to our relationship.  Is there irony in the fact that when we built the bed, Thomas labeled each side and we were not even "dating" at the time?

As I worked, it became more and more clear to me that this bed was built to withstand the relationship but I was not willing to let that be the case.  I worked for two days with little or no headway to dismantle Thomas's side of the bed.  It was as if in some one I was being mocked by the bed.  I finally gave up on Thomas's side after even the circular saw did not make a dent.  Then I started to work on my side of the bed...that labeled "Christa's side."  I struggled with screws of various style screwdriver tip styles...some square, some stars, some stripped.  Ugghhhh.  The way my children can tell that I am truly mad, is the increase of profanity and specifically the use of the F word.  I was able to dismantle my side but not without proficient use of the F world and some pieces not surviving.

And in the end, why is it always the last screw that resonates the most with you.  It feels like a dagger that twists between your should blades reminding you that you were foolish at giving your heart to someone that at one time was worthy but then in the end, they got the last screw.  But did they?

I am working on reading, thoughtfully reading Brene Brown's The Gifts of Imperfection.  On the day that I started the destruction of the bed, I read the following from her book and there was the start of an "Ah, Ha Moment."

But then there came this nudge into the next level of "Ah, Ha Moment."

Then what then took me to the next levels was the following title of a book located in our local library that is for sale for $1.00 to benefit the Friends of the Library.

At this point, being a person that has an excessive sense of right and wrong along with the belief that one must be responsible for their own choices and be accountable.  Seared into my brain, are the looks of empathy on Thomas's two sons that live with him because they knew what their father was doing and could not say anything because this is their father.  I am sure that they were seeing their father making their mother tell them why on Valentine's Day he was throwing her out of the house...and my struggle is with the lack of accountability.  Thomas has yet to face me to end this relationship while he continues to be with the (politely used term) individual that not only violated his privacy by going through his phone messages but also violated mine by doing so. 

While I know that to my son the ending of his book was "completely unsatisfying" and I don't want to make it seem trivial, because I know it was really important to him.  For me, the ending to what I thought was my forever was "completely unsatisfying" in a way, that when I am done "compartmentalizing" as an old friend told me this evening, will still be "completely unsatisfying" but in the end, I will have to let go and let God.  And should God not be able to complete any task, I am sure that he will call in the bitch, Karma.

Possible Titles for Blog Posts

I think that we all get those ideas that pop into our heads at the most inopportune moment and then when we need it the most, nada...nothing...gone...poof.  It is the same with that witty comeback that happens when you are no longer in the situation.  When I started the blog, I would put titles for potential posts as drafts but no posts ever evolved.  So, just as I have been doing purging my house, so I purge this blog.  Below is a list of draft post titles that I have saved:

1)  First Birthday In Heaven

2)  To All The Men In My Life (Past, Present, and Future)

3)  Observations from a Teacher's Celebration

4)  Some of Us Wear the Map of our Lives

5)  When You Realize That Your Life is a Series of Taylor Swift Songs (and You are Over 45)

6)  "What's so great about you is you are so unapologetically yourself." from Inherent Vice (2014) 
       Nellie(Gaby Hoffman)

I actually thought there were more than that...

It Makes It Personal

On Monday, July 10, 2017, I had the privilege to speak to a local county council about the naming of a new park after a local Marine that was killed in action.  The young man grew up in the area, graduated from one of the local high schools, and sixteen days into Afghanistan ... was killed in action.  I have had a number of people compliment me on my writing skills, well I also have speaking skills.  Below is what I spoke following an emotional presentation by the young man's father and before his mother's words.  Each speaker only had three minutes, which for those who know me personally know that I can speak for any length of time, so I tried to make my point very clear.  The family is that of LCpl Phillip Vinnedge, who was killed in action on October 13, 2010 as part of Operation Enduring Freedom in Afghanistan.  He was a member of the United States Marine Corps Dark Horse Unit.  He was nineteen years old.  His parents are two of the most amazing individuals that I have been blessed to have in my life.  At the end of my remarks are some links to local news media stories, please take a few minutes to watch these.

"I am a quote person.
And though our arms are empty,
Our hearts know what to do,
Every beat of my heart says,
'I remember you.'

PFC Lucas Bregg
PFC Andrew Habsieger
Sgt Denis Kisselhoff
Cpl Donald Marler
LCpl Matthew Pathenos
PFC Michael Patton
SSG Bradley Skelton
Cpl Riley Baker
LCpl Drew Weaver
SPC Jeffery White
SGT Matthew Straughter
Seaman John Gomez
Cpl Travis Patriquin
SGT Zachary Fischer
Cpl Russell Makowski
LCpl Phillip Vinnedge

To you, these names may or may not have meaning or faces
To the students in my classroom, they are the faces and names of our fallen that hang on my classroom walls
To me, they are representative of a bigger picture - all ALL who gave their lives - the ultimate sacrifice for the ideals of our founding fathers and their families
In today's fast-paced social media driven world - without a name and face the reality of our Gold Star families and the sacrifice that they have given often go unnoticed
For them, as I have learned from witnessing their grief and the positive things they have chosen to do with their grief as the Vinnedges have done and continue to do --- all the Gold Star family wants is for their family member to be remembered.

To the Vinnedges, it isn't about just the naming of a park after their son who was killed in action.
It is ALL about our fallen from this era, their families and most importantly their children.
I don't know about you, but this is not an era that I want to have to repeat teaching.

Thank You"

http://www.stltoday.com/news/local/stcharles/st-charles-marine-killed-in-afghanistan/article_14b9a868-d80d-11df-9749-0017a4a78c22.html

http://www.ksdk.com/news/local/hundreds-helping-gold-star-mothers-effort-to-rename-park-after-fallen-son/453977503

http://fox2now.com/2017/07/04/mother-of-fallen-marine-wants-park-named-after-him/

http://midriversnewsmagazine.com/2017/07/12/66897/parents-ask-that-new-st-charles-county-park-be-named-in-honor-of-their-son-killed-in-afghanistan

http://fox2now.com/2017/07/10/mother-of-fallen-marine-presents-petition-to-st-charles-county-council-to-name-park-after-him/

http://www.kmov.com/story/35881195/woman-petitions-to-have-st-charles-co-park-named-after-son-a-fallen-marine

You can also check them out at http://www.fallenherosdreamride.org

What I Have Learned About Love...(edited 7/10/17)

This post actually started out with the title "The Truth About Love...according to P!nk."  I actually had printed off specific songs (approximately 40 of them) by P!nk (most of which she not only performed but also wrote/co-wrote), highlighted specific lyrics that in song title alphabetical order actually formed a very nice poetic response to "The Truth About Love;" but I met Roy today.   

I have been faithfully going to the gym five to six days a week for the past three weeks at varied times.  I am a people watcher and know no strangers.  Today, I was about thirty-five minutes into my sixty minute treadmill workout when this older gentleman came in wearing a World War II Veteran ball cap. All sweaty and out of breath, I thanked him for his service.  The gentleman smiled politely at me and said "thank you."  He climbed up on the treadmill next to me and asked how far I had walked and how long.  I told him that I was about half way through a sixty minute workout before I got on the bike for another thirty.  He smiled and laughed a little.  As we talked, I introduced myself and said it was an honor to meet him.  His name is Roy and he is 92.  His spirit was amazing and uplifting.  He also informed me that despite a pacemaker, he planned to live to 100. As I moved from the treadmill to the bike, I got myself a new water bottle and bought Roy one and told him that it was important to stay hydrated.

It was during this approximately thirty minute conversation that all the stuff I was doing before about the truth about love, really wasn't what I knew to be the truth about love in my life.  P!nk isn't wrong by any means.  Love is flowers, armpits, sweat, tears, fear, anger, and all the other words she has used.  I am a huge P!nk fan....yes, on my bucket list to meet her.  I think she is an amazing role model.  Yet, after talking to Roy and spending most of the past two weeks  on a major emotional roller coaster that I know for a fact drove some of my friends to the brink of insanity, if not tossing them over the edge when it comes to me.  

Roy talked to me about his wife of 72 years.  He was drafted into the Army in January 1943, served for six months and returned home on leave to marry the love of his life.  He was home for three months and then returned to active duty by landing in France and eventually fighting in and surviving The Battle of the Bulge.  He talked then about caring for his wife during her descent into Alzheimer's Disease.  How he cared for her as long as he possibly could - bathing her, feeding her, taking care of all her needs- until had to place her in a nursing home.  He said that he visited her every day and had breakfast with her.  This was down in Texas.  He still goes down there every November through March.  While he is down there, he returns to that same facility, he says because of the hugs.

Our conversation centered around God and blessings.  How it all comes down to He has a purpose for us and that we don't always know what it is or ever know what it is, we just do it.  Roy also told me that next week he will be having his pacemaker that he has had for 10 years replaced by a newer model by one of our local heart specialists.  He told me his name and I said, "God has placed you in very capable hands."  If you pray to any God, please add him to yours because I look forward to trying to be there everyday during his designated time, just to get my dose of what I have learned about love.

I learned today that we love with a heart that God has given us.  We are not perfect in giving that love but we love.  When we find that one person that is worthy of being loved the way that not only the way we love ourselves (because you can not really love another if you don't love yourself) but loving the way God loves us and we Him.  The truth is that if we are truly capable of loving ourselves, there is nothing that we are not capable of doing for someone that we truly love.  Like that love that was demonstrated by Roy with his wife and the Alzheimer's.  I can not even imaging watching the person that for over three-fourths of your life you have unconditionally loved die twice.  First, by the overtaking of the Alzheimer's that makes the person disappear and then the second, when her body goes. We talked about the emptiness that follows the passing of someone you love (Roy about his wife, Myself my MoMo) and that you ask God to not let you wake up the next day and that you just want to be with them where they are.  I said, "I keep waking up.  I figure that God has a purpose for me."  Roy said, "We don't even get to know that purpose most of the time.  Maybe your purpose today was to talk to me and I mine to you."  

I learned that love is sacrifice, it is hard work, it is beautiful, it is monogamy, it is dedication, it is a journey between two people that can be intimate physically and soulfully that breathes life into the individual and into the two, it is moments when you don't agree but you respect the other's opinion, it is knee deep in blessings of children and friends, it is the moments of silence that don't feel empty or strained, it is the laughter, it is the passion, it is accountability, it is responsibility, it is scars on the heart, but above all...it is that commitment to another person that becomes a promise that no matter what ... the good, the bad, the ugly, the sticky, the legal, the health or lack of health.  Love is forgiveness, it is messy, it is not just words that you say, it is shown through your actions.  Love can shatter a heart ... Love can mend a heart.

All of this is only possible through the twisting of a line from the P!nk song, "Free" "[...Why can't I just love myself enough?  Instead of looking outside. For what I should have inside myself." If you cannot love yourself...If you cannot see that you are enough...If you cannot see yourself worthy of love...then you cannot love another.  

Roy is all those things that I have learned about love...it is hope, it is giving my faith in God that I am capable of loving not just myself but another.  When it is right, God will let me know...Today reminded me that I still have a huge heart that is giving and capable of love ... what I need to do is find that love inside myself again...and then I will be free. I have been a fighter and I have been strong and yes, it is exhausting.  The minute that I gave in to letting myself walk the path less traveled, the one that I believe God chose for me...it is then that I will be truly capable of loving myself and loving another in the manner that Roy reminded me of today. That is the truth about what I have learned about love.  

Because I Noticed (Father's Day 2017)

If you have read my post from Mother's Day, this post will come as no surprise. This is my eighth Father's Day for my Pop to be in Heaven. I felt it was important this year to tell the men in my life - from my childhood to my first kiss to those that have married my girlfriends to those I have reconnected with. This is the poem and letter that they received in the mail (hopefully by Father's Day).

For some of you, I have noticed that you are or must be your father

Some may physically look like him

But it is much more than just appearance

You are men of wisdom

Not necessarily wisdom that comes from a book

But that from life

You are gentleman

You open doors, hold hands when helping a lady into a car

Or you place your hand lovingly to the small of her back

To assure her that you are there, no matter what

You are faithful

Faithful to God, Faithful to Family,

Faithful to those you have let into your heart

You are strength

Not necessarily strength that can physically move something

Strength that supports a family

Strength that supports friends

Strength that the person who has given you their heart knows will

always lift them up

You are grace

Grace that is dignity, forgiveness, compassion, kindness,

and simple goodness

You are simple men

Whether it is the simple man of Skynyrd that listens to and loves his mother

Or that of the urban dictionary that is grateful for the little things in life, humble, knows what matters and more importantly what doesn’t, of great character, heart of gold that loves nature,

You know that your time is short, you make the best of every breath you take, and are brave

You are accomplished

Your accomplishments are not awards hung in frames on walls

Your children are your accomplishments  or something  you may or don’t even know

Your greatest gift is that of your imperfections.

You embrace your imperfections

For those imperfections that

you are loved.

For those with daughters, you have been and remain their first love.  You have taught them what it means to be respected, to be loved, to be protected and expect any man in their lives to do the same … for no matter her age, she will always be Daddy’s Princess

For those with sons, look at the way they treat the women in their lives. The women that they hold close and love with all their hearts, and the women that they call friends.

For others, you have taken in children that are not even yours and made them yours.

I find myself, at almost fifty, still expecting the men in my life to live up the imperfect standard my Pop set.  Pop was not perfect but, in reality, those imperfections are what have taught me patience, love, grit, commitment, and hard work. For some, you will spend the time with your father and your children and, not on purpose, take for granted that there will be more to come. Treat each day and moment as if it is not guaranteed.

For some, this is your first Father’s Day without your pillar, your strength, your teacher, your best friend, your champion, your hero.  I ask you to look in the mirror and see the man that your father was because he gave you all his gifts.  Look in the mirror and know that your children see you in the same light you saw your father...this is  how generations become great.

That is how we know our purpose

I will not see see most of you on this Father’s Day but, know that you are amazing, loving, simple men that have in some way shaped the woman that I am evolving into. I have seen your love for your family and your children and wish that others loved unconditionally the same way. I have been blessed to experience your love. On this day, as every day,  I know you are amazing in your own way. I thank each one of you for the impact you have had on my life.

Because of you, I am a better person.

God it is me, Daddy's Girl

This is the text of a story that I wrote following a conversation with a childhood friend who had recently lost her father. Her circumstances are very similar to those when my father (Pop) left on his journey September 29, 2008. She is the same age that I was then, with three children (two that are the ages my sons where at the time), and has the perception that she must be the rock, the strength, and keep everyone on schedule. She is angry, an understatement. After talking with her about her grief, I thought a great deal and asked God to give me the words that could possibly give her a slight bit of comfort this Father's Day. This is the result.

“God, it’s me...Daddy’s Girl” sitting on a park bench looking at the lake.  

“I am very angry with you, with my Daddy, with the world...”  She could not understand why everyone at the park was moving so fast… like rays of light.  It was like she was looking into their world.  It was bright and warm.  Her world was very cold and dark...like a cave with no lights.

“I don’t understand why you needed to take MY daddy when you did…,” she said as the tears started to run down her face like a waterfall.  “Why did he have to let you take him, too?

“Why him?  Why now?

Don’t you know that I still need my daddy?!?”  Daddy’s girl looked up to the sky.

In her most angry voice, Daddy’s Girl said, “I want my daddy back!” She was scolding the sky.  

Her head dropped into her hands as she sat on the bench and sobbed.  “Why?”  

She sat there looking at her hands as if she held her shattered heart in it thinking … My Daddy always knew how to mend my heart. No one can mend my heart like my Daddy.

Daddy’s girl took in a deep breath, “I want to sit next to my daddy again.  I want to talk to him about … everything.  I am not ready for him to not be here! I can’t do this life without him!” She took a deep breath and looked around her to see if anyone could tell she was crying.  She was sure that people would see her crying and talking to herself and think she was out of her mind.

“God?” Daddy’s Girl asked, “Would it have made a difference if we had made other choices?” Sucking in a deep gasp of air and wiping the tears from her chin, “I just don’t understand it all.”

Daddy’s girl just sat there and stared out … “God, Is my daddy there with you right now?  Does he know how much I miss him?  Does he know how hard it is each day to even wake up?  How I don’t want to go anywhere because I always run into someone that wants to tell me that they are sorry that he is gone and tell me stories about him?  Does he know how angry I am that he isn’t here?”

She just sat still while images of her daddy and her played out as a movie in front of her.  

“I need his strength, his sense of humor, his wisdom, his teasing me, his hand holding mine… I want to hear him say that he loves me again.”

She felt the air barely move around her.  Looking down at her hands again and the shattered heart, Daddy’s girl noticed that a couple of the pieces were now touching.  She could still see the fracture, but they were touching.

The wind seemed to wrap itself around her like a blanket … a blanket that her daddy would cover her up with when she was a little girl.  Only … Daddy’s girl wasn’t a little girl anymore … she was a beautiful young woman and a mother that embodied everything her Daddy ever was.

It got brighter and as she looked up, light was streaming through the clouds down on her.  Her Daddy was sending her a hug and telling her that he had heard every word she had said.  Her Daddy knew that she was angry and that she missed him, but was watching her everyday.  He saw his strength in her and his wisdom.  He also saw in her his heart.  A heart that was giving and loving and that served God in so many ways that she did not even know she was doing it.  He wished that he could hold her hand again but knew that would happen when it was her time take the same journey.  He wished that she could hear him say “I love you,” but that would happen when it was her time to take the same journey.  

The time for her to take that journey would not be up to her, it would not be up to him… It would be up to God.  

Her Daddy made her a promise, that he knew she could not hear, that he was and would always be watching over her and would always love her.  He hoped that when she felt the wind wrap around her that he was hugging her.  He hoped that she knew how beautiful she always was and will be.  He hoped that she knew that he and God were with her in the darkness … when it was time, his hand and God’s would be there to help her find her way.

Daddy’s Girl closed her eyes and leaned back on the bench.  When she opened them, the sky was not as bright as it had been and the clouds were filling the sky like puffs of cotton … and for a few brief seconds she felt a little comfort but knew that her journey here was not done.  

As she stood up from the bench to walk to her car, she turned around and looked up at the sky and said, “Daddy, I love and miss you too.”

Written with Love

Miss Marjorie