THIS

Life is amazing. And then it’s awful. And then it’s amazing again.  And in between the amazing and the awful its ordinary and mundane and routine. Breathe in the amazing, hold on through the awful, and relax and exhale during the ordinary. That’s just living heartbreaking, soul-healing, amazing, awful, ordinary life. And it’s breathtakingly beautiful. – LR Knost

The ups and downs of life. We can’t avoid them.  And honestly would we really want to? While there are times when we all wish we could fast forward, would we really want a life with just ups and no downs?  I don’t think so.

This was a rough summer for me.  And I am still healing.  But this hard time, this heartache, it makes me think back to the wonderful memories of when everything was perfect.  I hold onto those memories so tight, knowing this will not last forever.

While packing up for the move I found cards my mother sent me during other rough times.  And those cards felt like a wonderful blanket of love and warmth, with the things she wrote still holding true.

THIS. This is all part of life.  We cannot appreciate to the good without also experiencing the bad.  I remember reading a book called “The Prophet” when I was 19.  Totally changed my life.  One of the passages states only that which brings you great joy can bring you great sorrow. Truth be told, I will gladly grieve the loss to be able to say how much joy I had with my mother.  I will gladly cry and miss her now, for the fact that I had her in my life for 43 years.

And that is just life.  The good, the bad, the ugly and the all of it. It is the all of it that makes life so rich, so deep, so mosaic and so riveting. It’s the mistakes, missed opportunities, wrong roads, paths less traveled, the unexpected moments that take our breath away and truly make life worth living.

The best stories and memories aren’t when everything goes as planned.  We find ourselves and our joy oftentimes in the most assuming and surprising places along the way.   We find our life in the spaces of the hills and valleys of our heart and the tales it tells. We find our love in not only the happiness, but the sorrows.

And in the end, when I look back, I hope it’s as magical, as memorizing and as beautiful  as I imagine.

We just have to hold on, pray, have faith and breath. I wish I had some deep and fantastic thing to write about it. But the simple truth is we just have to live it. We just have to live THIS.

Boundaries for Peace

Most people things that a happy, peaceful life comes easy.  But in my experience, it does not.  It takes a lot of work to make sure that all is well and happy and healthy in your life.  Just like exercise and keeping your body fit, life sometimes requires some work in order to keep things in shape.

You must be very vigilant to make sure that you keep out people and situations out that will cause drama.  When you don’t, the result can be a lot of energy spent dealing with destructive, emotional situations that leave you exhausted.   And constant drama can not only leave you drained, but also emotionally unhealthy.

There is a saying about keeping your circle small. I have found that to be true. And every now and then you have to let people go when they drain you of your time and energy by dragging in unnecessary drama.  Even if you love them, even if they are dear friends, even if they are family.  Sometimes the best thing is to just walk away.

I did this recently and the result has been actually having the time and emotional bandwidth to heal.  Mom’s death and all the changes surrounding that have been tough.  And everything has happened very quickly.  So I had to choose, either my emotional health, or them.  My emotional health won.

Healthy boundaries are a necessity for a peaceful life.  You must have lines that others are not allowed to cross.  Anything that disturbs your peace of mind or makes you feel bad, anything that does not serve you or your purpose or your joy, must go.

And now I can grieve properly – in a safe, loving environment that fosters emotional health.  I can truly concentrate on what is best for my family as we move forward.  I can make sure that this move goes as smoothly as possible.  That this home, our home, is a good space that is a shelter from all that is bad.  And bottom line is that I am too busy and have too many things on my plate to deal with such foolishness.  I just can’t be bothered.

I could not do that if I still had those situations and people interfering.  So don’t be afraid to be selfish, don’t be afraid to stand up and do what is best for you, for your family and for your life.  Today is not a dress rehearsal.  Don’t be afraid to take control and be a supporter of boundaries for peace.

To Her

What is she looking for, I wonder?  When she looks at my blog, at the same ones that she always reads? Is she looking for comfort?  Or inspiration to leave?  Has he done to her what he did to me?  Is she trying to get the courage? Is she looking for a clue?  Why it is those entries?  Except, I know.

This is to you, yes you, his new.  Don’t be afraid to leave.  You deserve better than to have someone speak to you that way, treat you that way, hurt you that way…hit you that way.  Yes, what I say is true, all of it. And there is life after, love after, all after it’s over. Two others have gone before you, and there is enough of a record to stop it.  If that is the road you choose, you will not walk alone.

 

The Temporary Slobs

Packing up an entire house, with the belongings of 3 people in no small thing.  And the house gets messy when you are throwing around boxes and arranging items securely so they don’t shift or break.  Boxes are everywhere, stuff is everywhere as we try to organize what should go in which box.  And we are packing so there is not much time for actual housework.

And then I get the call.  The property management company wants to show the house to a potential renter.  She makes the appointment time and now it is time for a frenzied cleaning spree.  You never realize how much of slobs you are until you are packing up and living in the same space while working full time and trying to have a life.  All of the sudden it was dusting, vacuuming, cleaning, organizing, folding and actually putting the laundry away.  Not to mention arranging the boxes into a manner where you can see the floor and do not have to walk a narrow walk way. Getting all the cat fur and dust bunnies from underneath the bed and out of the corners. Wiping off counters and cleaning bathrooms.

I realized in that moment; in that moving, cleaning, OMG, we have been so busy we have not had time to do this moment, we had become temporary slobs.

And the house will be shown, and while it won’t be perfect – the know we are in the middle of packing – it will look decent.  This little house that has been our home, that has been such a blessing and rescued all of us in one way or another.  Leaving is bittersweet – this is the first house in a long time that truly felt like home.  And I felt it from the moment I looked at it.   It has been a space filled with love, and promise, and my first Thanksgiving celebration, and family, and memories and so much love, it’s hard to believe a building can hold so much.

And now we move to another home, this one bigger, with more space for Dad, and better commutes to work.  But still that little house will always be one of my favorites.  And we will continue packing, then unpacking, and probably being slobs until we are settled into the new house.  And that’s OK, because we are in order where it counts – our priorities, our love for each other, our commitment to each other and this little family – my boyfriend, my father and me.  Life can get messy, but as long as we have each other, it will all work out in the end.  And it’s OK to be the slobs next door – for now.

In the Silence of Your Absence

In the silence of your absence
I am acutely aware of the space
Between the raindrops
And the heartbeats of each minute

I have deep knowledge of
The distance a whisper
Can travel in a quick breath
On the thick summer air

In the silence of your absence
I have felt, with keen understanding
The depth of love and pain
And loss and hope

I have heard and follow
The cries of the doves
And the joy of the butterflies
As their wings work their magic

In the silence of your absence
Though deafening as it may be,
I comprehend the bittersweet
Celebration of all the love you left behind.

And I recognize the calling
In the songs of the hummingbird
And I distinctly hear your voice
As the silence is broken.

Ada Burch
9/13/2016

And Then it Was Two

Someone asked how Dad and I were doing today. This day, the 2^nd month anniversary of Mom’s death. Two Months.  One can live a lifetime in two months.

Most of that day is a blur to me.  I remember parts and pieces.  I remember painting Mom’s fingernails and gently brushing her hair the night before, and that morning.  I remember gently talking to her about how much I loved her and about my favorite childhood memories.  Like the Alfonso’s break dancing kit gift debacle.  And when she read Little House on the Prairie book series to me.  And when she would brush and fix my hair in the morning when I was a child.  When she taught me all those childhood songs that I still remember, how she decorated my bedroom when I was a teenager and made it seafoam green…and how I really did not appreciate that as much as I should have.  How she sat with me through each and every heartache and break up.  And teaching me how to cook and make her famous milk sausage gravy…and so many memories.

I remember how I held her hand and watched her breathing get more and more shallow.  Even when you know it’s coming, you are never prepared to see someone take their last breath.  And I remember the lights flickering three times after I said “I love you…”

And then there was talking to everyone, making arrangements. Making decisions and taking care of everything. I know it happened, and I was the one to do those things, but I really don’t remember.

Grief is not as I expected.  I thought it would be a huge brick in the pit of my stomach.  But it’s not.  It is more like an acute awareness that she is not here.  It is the extreme knowledge of the Last time I felt her arms around me. It is the silence of her absence. And it is deafening.

But my answer to my dear friend who asked was simply – We are getting better at moving forward.

Because we are. Every day we get better at honoring her by creating something beautiful.  We live for her to look down and smile.  We pray for God to hold  us – and her – in his big hands. We hold our breath for the signs and whispers.  We look up and feel the sun, see the clouds, celebrate the rainbows, feel the rain and notice the magnificence of the world. A life beautiful through honoring her, her memory, how she wanted us and raised us to be. A life beautiful by creating a safe, peaceful space that is a sacred sanctuary, protected and kept close.

We move forward by honoring her memory and being true to ourselves and those we love.  We continue forward with the move to the new house, and creating something special.  We weave together the fabric of this life with every heartbeat.

The House on The Hill

It is always exciting when you move to a new house, everything but the packing.  And Sunday it was time to take Dad by the new house.  He looked around and inspected everything with his precision eye…making sure everything was in line and right.

The basement, the most important thing and what he was the most excited about.  And he went down. It is not perfect, but we can make it work.  We can make it work with his workshop, with a few moderation.  Add some light fixtures, get some extension chords. And there is plenty of room not only for his workshop, but for storage as well.

He likes his new room. It is big and has enough space for whatever he wants to put in there.  He can have a little office as well.  The deck is being worked on, and will be ready by the time we move in.

It is not perfect, but it is great.  And it will be a great place for us.The house we are in now has been wonderful – the Rescue House.  It rescued me from me from the House of Mold, it rescued my boyfriend and became a place of love, and now it rescued my Dad and has become his home too.

The new house will be a place of new beginnings.  And it is my privilege to have Dad with us, starting this new life with us.  I am a lucky woman. And I feel Mom smiling.

It’s Already There

When I first read it so many years ago, it made me cry. It makes me cry still. A beautiful writer, a wonderful friend who wrote a beautiful piece. For me. And now I share it with you.  Thank you Rex Holiday.

It’s Already There

I see it this way: from a guy who has pissed away more great chances in a week than most men will see in a year: I’ve been allowed to see incomprehensible scenery connected to a brain that “gets it”.

Without those missed chances I would have: never been able to speak of the pain of an aborted father in the throes of post-regret, nor spoken to others who are bleeding the same way. Never known the kind of fervor and spit and fire it takes to speak my mind into a howling wind and actually made it slice through.

Never known the dubious pleasure of bringing down a pseudo-Napoleon living as king of his particular hill in a school system I pay for.

Never heard the voice of a now-relieved-son thanking me for helping his invalid grandmother out of a winter storm

Never had the ocean-powered wave of gratitude wash over me when I, alone, stood with one, wrongly accused, against a courtroom full of antagonists. (Not-guilty, by the way)

Never known the sheer power of being the one in the fray who is COMMITTED.

Never been able to speak of true, unrequited, ripped-apart love to an adolescent who’s going through the same thing.

Never known the joy of vocally and VERY audibly cheering a teenager when they finally excelled at something and got their due for it.

Never seen the pain in a true friend’s eyes when they buried their youngest. Never been able to hold them and let them cry the way they would only in a true friend’s arms.

Never been blessed to help bear the pain of someone you love on any level.

Never felt so dirty and ashamed as to chase even my closest friends off.

Never felt the heat of a South Georgia summer.

Or the cold of a Kentucky ice storm.

Or the power of an Alabama thunderstorm.

Or the thundering beauty of a Mississippi sunset.

Or the caress of a Tennessee mountain morning.

Or the complete release of a hearty and block-shattering “KISS MY ASS” to authority.

Or of watching the pain

the pleasure

the ecstacy

the victory

of discovery.

Would never had heard the crowd’s approval swell like a big gentle wave in the warm Gulf.

Or my new bride, taking such care to dress in some kind of frilly underpinnings complete with garters and white stockings say, “…do you mind if we don’t”, on my wedding night.

Not a bit. I just drove three hours through nowhere, Mississippi to say to the hotel clerk, “I’ve waited 31 years to say this: I just got married, and I need a room.” I was tired. Be real.

I would have missed words like, “I do”, “You may take your planet home”, “Would you hand me the piano?”, “I want to try everything, tonight.”, and “Honey, wake up. Hannah Newton was killed last night in a car wreck. John was right behind her.”

Not all of these are pleasant or desirable but they are rich. A mosaic of life. If we didn’t like imperfection and character, photographs would far outsell paintings. It’s what we’re here for.

I would have missed the roar of the greasepaint, the smell of the crowd, and the cussing of the GM.

And I would have missed you and your smile.

Most of all.

Stop searching. It’s already there.

– Rex Holiday

Life in Imperfections

I am learning that within our own imperfections we find the greatest truths, unconditional love, appreciation and a mirror of who we really hope to be on the inside on the good and Bad days. – Jennifer Jo Clark Singleton

We all have those times in life were we just have to do it. There is a reason why that slogan is such a hit.  It is especially appropriate after a tragedy or major setback in life.  When we feel hopeless, defeated, hurt, scared, sad, depressed, discourage, unsure…we just have to get up and do it.

I remember a lesson I learned from my mother.  She had a very bad back and suffered terrible chronic pain.  She was extremely strong willed though and worked through it.  The pain would put most people in bed…and I remember asking her why she didn’t just take a break or lie down?  With a smile and that common sense way of thinking for which she was famous, she told me that her back was going to hurt whether she got up or not, so she might as get up, and get busy. Wow. Now that she is no longer with us, I want to carry her on lessons of strength and endurance in the face of hard time.

The fact is that we will probably still feel scared, discouraged, sad, or whatever, but we just have to do it anyway.  At some point you have to decide to reach deep down, where the soul meets the mind, down where each heartbeat mingles with our breath, and pull ourselves up.  It’s going to hurt anyway, so we might as well just do it.

And so it goes.  There is much to do at this moment.  So much change, heartache, work, love, fear, truth, honor, sadness, and life.  Adjusting to having an aging parent in the house, making sure he has everything he needs and wants, packing and organizing two moves, working a full time job, trying to cook, clean and do everyday things, keeping up with friends and family… I have no idea how I am going to do it, but I just have to, because failure is not an option.

But I know I can do it, because my mother could do anything, and I am my mother’s daughter.  The pity party is over – and that is another thing she taught me.  Have a pity party, but just make sure it doesn’t last too long.  Because life and it’s demands do not stop just because you are having a bad day, or week, or month or even year.  So you better figure it out.

I can hear her voice, gently whispering to me, as I get up in the morning.  She knows I can do it.  I will not be perfect at this.  I will stumble, fall and even fail sometimes, no matter how hard I try.  And in my imperfections, I have found this truth.  In her imperfections I have found that unconditional love and faith.  I have found that mirror of who I am now and who I want to be on the good and bad days. And I am blessed to have a wonderful people around me who will stand by firm.  They are my roots.

We can also choose in what spirit in which we move forward.  We can choose to rise above the drama and pain, or let it drag us down.  We can choose to do things with a loving and cheerful heart, or we can be bitter and angry. I choose the former in both sets.  Dolly Parton Sings in her hit Hard Candy Christmas “I’m barely getting through tomorrow/But still I won’t let/Sorrow get me way down/Me, I’ll be just fine and dandy.” And I will be just fine.

I think that starts with acceptance. It is going to be hard. It is going to test my limits and strength.  But’s it’s going to hurt anyway so I might as well get up and get busy.  Things are going to be unbalanced right now, so I will just grab what time for myself that I can, and just get through the rest. Maybe the key is finding the unbalance you can live with temporarily. And the bad times are always temporary; it won’t be like this six months from now, a year from now, ten years from now.

You can pack and cry at the same time; you can move mountains while still wounded. You just have to do it. And so I will. How…I am not sure.  I guess we will figure that out along the way. And in my imperfections I will find life.

Pour yourself a drink, put on some lipstick, and pull yourself together. – Elizabeth Taylor

Changing Seasons

The air is starting to crisp.  I for one am ready for the coolness of Fall.  It has been a cruel summer, and I am looking forward to the kinder nights of the changing season.

The change will not be without challenges though, as a two moves, what would have been my parents 49^th anniversary and also the holidays are all on the calendar.  But Fall offers a break from all the heavy topics of summer, and a chance to break away for a moment and breathe.

Fall offers sitting out on the back patio next to the fire pit, maybe even the roasting of a marshmallow or two. It offers a slowing down of life and taking time to enjoy the air.  It offers apple picking and talks of new plans and a new life that comes with a new season, a new house and a new situation.

We made it through the summer, working hard and getting through.  We all need a bit of a break, to breathe, to smile, to laugh. To remember that there is life after tragedy.  To grab a good time and make a memory or two along our journey.  To make new traditions, while honoring the old.  To hug and hold each other, and to really know that together we can do anything.  There is safety in numbers and we are stronger and better together, our little unit; my Dad, my boyfriend and me. 

With love, patience, Grace (pray I have it), and Faith, we can do anything. There are other siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles and dear friends to add, all making for a great supportive extended family. Why worry about one, when there are so many with which to celebrate the new season?

I just want to surround my father with so much love that it makes the loss and absence easier. I want to block out all drama, all negative people, all dialog not constructive to create a protective order. 

I am ready for cool breezes to cleanse the sweat and tears of summer.  Ready for the foundation of the next chapter to be poured as we build something beautiful and honest and real. Yes, I am ready for Fall.

Grace Under Pressure

How did my Mother do it, I wonder?  How did she manage the family and all the activities? When she was here, she was the one who took care of everything and everyone when they needed something.  Now that torch has been passed to me. And I think I am failing miserably at it.

For example, my sister closest in age has refused to help with moving our parents belonging out of the family compound into the new house where Dad will live.  When I asked if she would help her answer was “Dad can handle moving by himself, he is not a child.”  I don’t know of a single adult who can handle a move completely alone, including her.  In addition to that, she has many things of her own still in the house that she is expecting Dad, or someone other than her, to pack, load, move and store for her.  Seems to me like that takes a lot of nerve to expect. And it makes my blood boil as I see the hurt in Dad’s eyes, and his panicked and defensive tone as he says he doesn’t need her, any one’s help.

I am not a violent person, but the urge to throw something large and heavy at her was hard to resist.  But I did, barely. How exactly did my mother do it?

When you are placed in a leadership position, there is a tremendous amount of responsibility that goes along with it. That responsibility also gives you certain rights or privileges.  For example, I was there when my mother passed, that sister was not. The cross that my mother was wearing when she passed, hangs around my neck now. That cross my dear mother gave me, I took and placed around her neck so she would have a cross to wear for her journey. And when my mother’s journey was complete, the cross once again hung around my neck from hers. A beautiful gift given, an intimate moment shared between mother and daughter.   That detail gives me the privilege to tell my sister she should have been there herself if she wanted anything different. The responsibility is to try to have Grace..to have justice tempered by mercy. I am pretty bad at that part. 

And I try so hard to remember my mother’s teachings of Grace and patience.  But that is oh so hard when I see my father being hurt. I want to be fiercely protective of him and tell her, in no uncertain terms, what I think if her selfishness, her refusal to work with us, her refusal to communicate or plan anything from his move, to his birthday to plans for the holidays.

We have all heard of a divorced parent whose ex-spouse makes joint custody of the children a nightmare.  Just because it is an adult parent, and not a child, does not make it OK to be an uncooperative ass.  And my mother dealt with this for almost 30 years, this sister causing problems. It should have been expected then, but I thought it might be different because of the circumstances.

And I wonder how she did it, my beautiful mother, because I am drowning. How did she keep her cool when selfishness came to the door and inside the house? Because I want to come out swinging.

When someone so selfish comes into your life, it completely alters the energy and feel of the room.  You can feel the air being sucked out of the entire space, as they are a black hole that devours anything positive and good.  It leaves you feeling exhausted as you try to feed their insatiable hunger.  But nothing you do for them will be enough; they will always want more, expect more and refuse more and more to do anything.  They are entitled, after all.

But you cannot defecate on those who love you and expect them to stick around.

And I realize maybe the solution is in walking away. From the drama, from the pain, from trying to be nice to someone who has no use for anything Burch but yet demands everything to be given. And Maybe the Grace and Patience my mother had comes not from believing in my sister, but from having faith that God will provide regardless.  God works miracles every single day.  Somehow this move, this time, this holiday season will work out without my sister, without her drama and her selfishness.  You cannot force someone to care, but you can move forward without them in your life.

And in letting go and leaving her behind, maybe therein lies the Grace. And also therein lies the Peace

Looking Up

There are times in everyone’s life where all we can do is look up.  In looking up there is faith and hope.  Sometimes, we have to put our heads down and work through whatever it is, go get through or to reach a goal.  And then we find ourselves looking up at the sun, or feeling the cleansing rain on our face.  Looking up means noticing all that is around, not only above. It is saying a prayer, giving thanks and taking a breath.

There is a conversation you never dreams of having with your loved one.  The “It’s ok if you are tired, you can let go” talk when a family member is too ill.  I had that conversation with my mother while she was under sedation and she could not really respond.  The nurse had given her the shot before I had a chance to have a real conversation, so this was the best I could do.  I know she could hear me, so I stroked her hair and gently told her that I know she had been in pain and was so very tired, so if she didn’t feel l like fighting, that it was Ok to let go.  She had our permission.

I sat at her bedside, looking down watching her while rested and reassured her that while I wanted her to be around forever, it was OK if she was too tired and I understood. And loved her more than words could ever say.  I told her about the prognosis – that her body was just too weak to fight the infection and recover.  The truth that if she did recover, it would take months of rehabilitation to get back to normal.  That Everyone would be OK, even though we would miss her more terribly and deeply that we could ever imagine.

I think it is one of the hardest conversations to have with a parent or any loved one.  Gut-wrenching and physically difficult, it is what you do when you love someone and want what is best for them. But it goes against every selfish desire you have, because you naturally want your loved ones with you for as long as possible. But not at the cost of their comfort and quality of life.  So you break your own heart and let go, letting them let go too.

After she passed, I said my final goodbye, taking her hand and telling her one more time that I loved her so very much. When I stood up to leave, the lights flickered softly three times. A gentle whisper of “I love you.”  And I looked up and knew it was her.

As we move forward without her here, there has been much to do.  Getting the old house ready for sale, cleaning, arranging, packing.  We go out to take breaks and sit on the back deck facing the water.  Feeling the breeze, watching the flowers dance. And I look up and see fireflies dancing and playing right in front of me.  And I know it is another gentle whisper.

And there is unpacking the van in our current home, taking Dad’s things out and putting them inside for him, making sure he has all he needs to keep him warm and feeling loved and not so alone.  Unloading 40 houseplants, finding a place for them, in the sun, or partial sun, or full shade so that they flourish as much as they can.  And I look up…and see a double rainbow after I asked for a sign. Another gentle whisper, this time captured on my phone.

After dad and I were down dealing with the coin collection, there was a penny at my door, the year of my birth. And I looked up, thankful for the whisper. Truth be told, there have been too many signs, signals and whispers to mention.  Every day, another whisper, just as I have asked moving forward. A wonderful reminder that she is around, looking over us.  I hope she is proud of me, when I look up at the sky, at her in the beautiful cloud formations.  I hope she likes the way I try to carry her legacy of love, warmth and laughter.  I hope she is patient with me learning how do balance everything she did so effortlessly and does not frown too harshly when my patience and Grace and running short. I hope we she is pleased as she looks down and we look up.

The fact is that moving on is not possible, because it insinuates that you close the door on that part of your life.  And that is simply not possible when missing a parent. You miss them always. But you can move forward, learning how to wade through and make new paths while still honoring and keeping the old ones.  And even the old paths will not ever be the same; but different isn’t always bad and change doesn’t have to be negative. You can build a beautiful life on the grounds and foundation of your parents.

And you never have to stop looking up.