Unpacked

After moving to a new home, nothing feels quite as good as having most of the house finally unpacked. After most items are unpacked, the home starts to take shape, starts to feel good and warm and comfy.  You have your favorite soft, warm blanket close by, you have your favorite coffee cup, see your favorite picture hanging on the wall.  It feels good, definitely a lot better than wading through a floor full of boxes.

And this is where we are after a great weekend, that oddly never feels quite long enough.  Finally, most of the boxes are empty.  Those that are left are simply books or office supplies to be placed on their respective shelves.  But home looks like home in this place we are building together.

IT is a place to go after work, a place to have hot dinner and warm discussions by the fire.  IT is a place to watch a movie or TV show, or hear music, or share a story.

And most of all, it is a place to love and build the future, inside these walls.

14,000 Miles

Regular car maintenance, we all do it.  Unless we want to be stranded on the side of the road because the engine exploded, we get the oil changes, tires rotated, fluids topped off.  Just like the DMV, it is a necessary evil that must be endured.  I am lucky that the place I take my car is pretty honest and they know I know a bit about cars (thanks Dad).  But even I was surprised when the technician asked “14,000 miles since your last oil change in June?!?  Where have you been driving?”

You can travel a lifetime in fourteen thousand miles. In those miles I have traveled several.  What started out as simply assisting Mom during recovery from a minor procedure ended up as so much more.  And that seems several lifetimes ago already.

In 14,000 miles I have traveled to heartaches door and back.  I have carried more love and compassion than all the luggage in the world could hold.  Each mile, each inch, each centimeter, has paralleled each beat of my heart.

I have traveled to confusion, and denial and desperation and fear and loss.  I have visited darkness and knelt humbly at faith’s doorstep.  I have sat, hunch over, crying, sobbing, begging, pleading, admitting that I don’t know how to do this, how to watch my mother pass, how to be strong enough to be the leader, how to be what is needed for this task. I have prayed for wisdom, and grace, and compassion and understanding, and patience; sometimes failing, sometimes not.

In those miles I have bargained, promised, negotiated, fought, and bled my soul.  I researched the best course, sacrificed sleep because it was not important, and seen acceptance in the nurses expression when they looked into my eyes and knew the term “visiting hours” did not apply to me. I have prayed that as much as I love her, please, please let her not suffer.  I have broken my own heart into minuscule shards, trembling, as I prayed for it to be peaceful.

I have seen compassion and true heartbreak watching my father.  And I have witnessed the truest love, watching them the last time they interacted.

In 14,000 miles, I have seen the most beautiful and striking rainbows, as rays of hope break through the clouds. I have seen eyes look into mine with love and compassion, shoulders that truly are strong enough for me to cry on, arms that are strong enough to protect me, and gentle enough to be shelter. In those miles, I have seen how blessed I am to have a wonderful man and partner who is willing to be there, even when I am so terrified that I cannot stand to be in my own company. And then seen him stay and stroke my hair so I sleep in peace.  I have carried whispers and secrets and writings, and journals, and anger, and fear, and love and joy and everything that is life in those miles.

There have been miles of boxes packed. moved and unpacked.  There have been countless sleepless nights, up planning and figuring, writing and praying.  There have been men payed, volunteers asked, friends talked to and letters written.  Interviews and jobs declined and accepted, tasked completed and left undone. There have been pictures taken and voice mails saved, phones traded and flowers smelled.  There have been countless meals cooked and eaten, many bottles of wine and water and coffee.  There have been long goodbyes and short visits, lengthy conversations and easy decisions and heavy burdens. There have been cards and songs, and work and play. And love, most of all.

Fourteen thousand miles is a short distance for where I have traveled and returned. And when you think about all of that in 14,000 miles, it is humbling to think of how many miles are traveled in our time on Earth, and by how many travelers.

And in the miles ahead, I see that the road is rich with hope and dreams, and love, and kindness and all the good that can be held around the next bend. And it makes me wonder what the next miles have in store.  Just like looking at the blank pages of a new journal, I am inquisitive about the future. Even when the road is long and hard, we must never lose our hope, our wanderlust, our curiosity, our sense of wander or our optimism. We must always strive to learn and grow and be better.

Yes, I saw all of this flash before me, in an instant when the technician asked that simple question.  I just said “I had a family illness that required a lot of driving.” He smiled kindly and said he was sorry to hear. Then he rang me up and went on his way down his road, continuing his journey.  And so it goes.

Symphonies for Us

We all need to experience new things, or even old things that we have not experienced in many years that gave us joy. As adults, we need to have fun, enjoy life even in tough times, especially in tough times.  Friday my father and I went on a Father-daughter date to the symphony.  He loves classical music, and one of his favorites was playing.  I had never been to the symphony and looked very much forward to the first experience.

I love the fact that I will be able to say that the first time going to the symphony was with my Dad.  He was very excited, as was I.  We left in plenty of time for traffic (which for Atlanta is at least an hour with some extra padding).  Upon arrival we noticed quite a crowd.  Each part of the art center had functions, and Atlanta loves the arts.  We were seated in the main orchestra section close enough to see everything.  We even met a very nice lady who gave us tips on the best places to sit depending on what we wanted to see the most.

And then the music started.  Wow.  As many live music shows as I have been to, I have to say that there is nothing like the symphony.  To not only hear the music, but to see and notice the nuances as the instruments are played is amazing.  You are carried away by the violins, then the cellos…then you notice that the flutes are being played, when you had not noticed their subtle under tones before…and a whole new world is opened in that piece of music.

We were both lost in the music while the orchestra played, both fascinated by the way the conductor led the members, and both carried away to another place and time.  Wonderful memories.  And no doubt there will be more symphonies for us, as looked online to see what our next musical adventure.

 

Father Daughter Date

Tonight will be a great night. It is something my father and I have been looking forward to for quite a while.  Dad loves classical music, so when I saw this event, I knew we had to go.  Dvořák’s popular “From the New World” Symphony is one of his absolute favorites, and it has been a long time since he has been to the symphony.

Tonight is Father Daughter Date night.  We will go to Casual Friday’s at the Atlanta Symphony, enjoy some great music, then have a nice bite somewhere tasty.  Truly good quality time together, he and I.  A treat to celebrate a bit of life, something good at the end of the tunnel and the start of maybe a new tradition.

The holidays are approaching, and the symphony has many concerts for the season.  But tonight is the first. Something I will no doubt cherish for a long time.

When Little Boys Think They are Mem

When little boys think they are men.  When boys think they know the difference between books and real life, and Robin Williams sets them straight. One of my favorite scenes.

Pace Yourself

In this world of bigger is better, more is best and the more you can accomplish and cram in one day the more important you are…it is important to pace yourself.

There is so much to this week, even with things slowing down a bit. And I struggle not to be overwhelmed and not to be tempted to unpack and organise trough the night.  Not everything has to be done today or tonight.  Indeed, one must have a good pace in order to complete the race.

My schedule has been non stop since early April, maybe March.  Dealing with Mom’s degrading health, planning the sibling reunion, having the reunion, Mom’s death, moving Dad in with us, organizing the move into the bigger house, unpacking, getting ready for moving all of Dad’s things in, and getting settled in a new job – in addition to family issues. It’s a lot!

And I am feeling burned out.  I am struggling to not burn out.

What is the solution?  I don’t know.  What I can say is that tonight, I must pace myself.  Tonight I put our relationship first.  Salmon steaks, wine and some smiles and plans.  Your must make sure your priorities are in line and conducive to a healthy, happy life. And that takes effort.  It takes effort to pull away from the brink of burnout to make your partner know that they are important and that you appreciate them.  It takes pacing yourself to make the time necessary for care and nurturing that relationship.

It is so important right now, with all the changes, that I take care of those I love, including myself.

And so it goes tonight.  And maybe the answer is the pace of it all.  Maybe it is in slowing down, taking a breath, saying a prayer and making the effort that we find ourselves anew.

With Love

I have long had the theory that if you do something with love, it will be felt throughout.  This past weekend is a great example.  My father wanted several of his belongings and pieces of furniture moved up.  A new home doesn’t really feel like it’s yours until you have your most favorite things around you.

And so my man and I went down to Mom and Dad’s, loaded up a 16’ truck full of his favorite things and drove them up to the new house.  Dad is taking full advantage of the fact that there is space for his things now.  So, with the help of some wonderful friends, we unloaded the truck and arrange Dad’s new room.

When my father returns, he will find his room full with his bed, his desk, his favorite chair and other items he picked to have with him.  My man and I arrange everything last night, moving heavy solid wood furniture, pulling out the tape measure with blinding speed, trying not to fall over the cats and trying not to trip over each other. The result is warmth that you can feel as soon as you walk in the room.  A room filled with, arranged with and designed with thought and love.  It is my favorite room in the house so far.

It seems that when you are doing for another, being of service to them, whatever love is felt is returned ten-fold.  Doing things for Dad helps me feel better.  It makes me feel as if Mom is smiling as she watches over us. It melts away all my heartache, channels it into something positive, and makes me smile. Serving others helps me heal. I can no longer do for Mom, but I can do for those she loved most and make sure they are good. And the is no doubt she loved Dad the best and the most.

Now, to arrange the rest of the house in the coming weeks.  To make it ours, warm and comfortable.  A sanctuary in a crazy world, a place of rest and peace.  And love.

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Special note:  I am the luckiest woman in the world to have such a wonderful man as my partner.  He has been there for me, putting up with me in my emotional, grieving state.  He has been patient, letting me cry when needed.  He has been amazing to my father, treating him with nothing but kindness and respect.  He has lifted and moved heavy furniture, called on his friends to help, done dishes and laundry, eaten questionable cooking, and watched TV shows just because I liked them. I have been treated with more kindness, grace, gentleness and love that I deserve or could possibly hope.

There is a saying that when a woman is loved the right way, she becomes 100 times more than she ever could have been.  He has shown me this is true.  And I am blessed.

The Wonder They Hold

Sometimes we find ourselves in interesting places while trying to get back into the rhythm of life. This is where I find myself.  Three months after Mom’s passing, which still seems so surreal, we are all starting to get into the rhythm of forward movement.

In many ways is it the land of Almost (Which I wrote about here). I say almost, because I am not there yet.  But it feels like the brim of many things.  I am almost back into life, almost feeling like myself, almost back  into the swing of things.  We are almost unpacked, almost settled, and I almost know what I am doing. At work I am almost done with a few projects, my clothes almost match, and I almost feel like I look like I have it almost together.

It is peculiar, this place.  No longer there, but not quite at the other. It is better, as I come out of the darkness. I almost have a routine, and it feels good.  Get up, make coffee for Dad, discuss what is going on for the day.  At lunch it is either running a quick errand, eating at my desk or running home for lunch. After work is maybe going to the store for ingredients, then cooking, a little clean up and spending time with talking with my boyfriend about the day.  Still have to finish unpacking and figure out things like when to work out or watch TV.

A return to the routine after months of holding on, letting go and breathing out. The bittersweet relief of normal.  I look pictures of my mother, noticing her features as I inspect my own in the mirror.  There are enough similarities that I know I can do this. And I sleep warmly under a blanket which she picked.  She and God equipped me with all that is needed, and she loved me enough for a lifetime. Soon it will no longer be Almost…soon it will be a rhythm of life and love and hope and all the wonder that they hold.