Honor Thy Mother

Hi Mom, It’s been six years since you passed away, and I still miss you every day. There are still so many times I think about calling you, when I have good news, or just have a slow moment in the day. I will never stop missing you, because it will never feel normal for you to be gone.

And thank you for my sign today. When I asked you to make it personal, and a sign that could only be from from you, you delivered. But I am not surpised, you were magic when you were here, of course you are even more so in the afterlife with God.

This is the first year where I am not completely gutted about today. Probably because I am so happy. You wouldn’t recognize my life now, or maybe you would. You know how much I wanted to leave GA, even when I tried to keep it from you. I know you would have encouraged me to go find where I want to be. Texas. Oh, and how you would love it here. You would love the people.

We live in such a wonderful home, in a great neighborhood we love as well. And you would LOVE him. He is everything I ever wanted and everything I never knew I needed. And he is so patient with me. He is teaching me Grace by example. I am beyond blessed to have him. I can just see you guys debating history, politics, scientic theories and books.

I can’t help but think that your brain just withered being out so far in the sticks with no one to really talk to, no one to challenge that ever so active and brilliantt mind of yours. I know why you moved out there, and I know you made a beautiful home, but I know you missed being busy and around people with whom you could truly relate. You were always reading and watching TV shows about political and business strategies.

It’s been a good day and I have tried to honor you by being happy and getting tbings done. You would think it’s so silly to sit amd be depressed or long faced about it. So I have listened to my favorite muaic all the way up, and sand as loud as I could. I danced around a bit in the house even. I ate one of you favorite meals, and enjoyed every bite, then had one of your favorite treats. I looked at pictures of you and thought of my favorite memories. And I remembered this day 6 years ago…

It was my honor to be there and hold your hand while you slipped from this world to touch the face of God as He held you in His hands. It was the most difficult and most beautiful moment, to be there with you, the woman who gave me life, as you took your last breathe. Thank you for that honor.

I took these pictures on July 13, 2015, and you died exactly 12 months to the day theynwwre taken. And I remember looking out at the horizen as the sun was setting in the distance, wondering if you would live another year. You held on as long as you could. You are like the sun, always there to greet me around the next corner, reaching out your arms in infinate love. Love radiated from you like light from the sun…

I love you always and will miss you forever. Say hello to Dad, and please visit me in my dreams. ❤

5 Years

Five years, is 60 months, or 260 weeks, or 1,826 hours and countless hours. And more heartbeats than I can count. And in that time there has been everything good, bad, ugly, happy and in between. But mostly, five years has been without you Mom. Five years without hearing vou, or hugging you or seeing your being with you or having coffee with you.

Mom, there are no words to even express how much I still miss you or what these last five years have been like. So there is no point in trying.

What I can say is that I am OK. I miss you every day. But this life I have built here, in this place, is a life that I am proud of and one I think you would be proud of too.

I love and miss you so much. I miss our conversations, our laughs, our late night movie marathons, card games, and conversations. And I miss our talks over coffee.

I love you and you will always be more best friend. Thank you for being the best Mom in the world. Give dad a hug for me (I miss him too). And please visit me in my dreams.

The Exquisite Grief

IT hits you sometimes, and the strangest things will bring it on. And then all of the sudden, you are right there, a vessel of grief, as if time has completely stopped and you are right there again. That is what happened to me the other morning, as I poured coffee into my mother’s favorite coffee cup, like I had done hundreds of times before. Coffee was our tradition. Every time I visited, when I was ready to go, I would load up my car, then always come back inside for one last cup of coffee before left.

During that last of coffee, we would talk about all kinds of things – hopes, dreams, plans, thoughts, the drive, remembering to call when I got home. There was lots of laughter and advice, and just good old fashioned conversations.

And when I poured that cup of coffee the other morning, I was suddenly acutely aware of how much I missed those coffee conversations with my Mother, and how much I missed her, even after almost 5 years. And I cried, right there over and into her coffee cup.

And the moment was exquisite in its grief, because you can only miss that which you loved.

Hi Guys

Hi Guys,

Mom and Dad, I love and miss you so much, more than words can say.

I have been doing everything to take care of the estate.  We had buyers for the compound then two weeks before closing hurricane Michael cam e through.  It didn’t destroy the place (thanks to your incredible design and insistence that it be build beyond code Dad), but it did sustain damage.  Contractors are working on it. I have no idea what I am doing, but think I have navigated it pretty well.  I hope you are proud, and I hope I have done things up to your incredible standards. Thank you for teaching me such integrity.

When I go there now, I see glimpses of you and Dad, but I don’t feel you there anymore. I think you guys are off dancing somewhere else in the universe, happy to be together. And I think you come back to visit when I am there, but you do not stay. After all, there must be so much to do in the afterlife. And I am sure that you are the social butterfly you always were, Mom, Making friends and laughing where ever you go  And Dad, I know you are just happy to be with her, warmed by the light of her. So many people have and are helping me because of how much they loved you guys.

In a way I wonder if the hurricane was when you guys decided to leave the compound, use it as your exit. Mom, the gardens you made were destroyed, but most of the fruit trees made it. I guess in a way this makes it (emotionally) easier to sell, which is a blessing in it’s own way.

The family is a mess, if you can say it even exists at all.  I have tried to put the siblings back together, but some things cannot be unbroken. And so I accept that I am alone.  The cousins have been wonderful though, even though I have not had time to talk to them much.  But they are very loving and kind.  They are my last connection to you Dad and I want to keep those relationships going.  I plan to see them all this coming year.

Mom, I cannot believe it has been almost 2.5 years since you passed away. I don;t know how I have done all of this without you.  Accept I know you and God have been guiding me. I feel you so close sometimes, that I almost feel like I could reach out and touch you.  But I can’t. I wish you would visit me more in my dreams. And I love when you and Dad give me signs, like the rainbow yesterday.

As hard as it will be to finally sell the compound, I am looking forward to the closure.  You guys know how hard this has all been and how long it has taken to handle everything.  It is time for that closure and for me to live my life, finally free. I am planning where to go and what to do after it all settles down.  I am thinking of what I want life to be for me. I am not sure what it all looks like yet, but there is time.

The holidays (I think) will be easier this year than last.  Last year was rough. But that first year always is. I am ready for it now. And I am taking a friends advice…I am not making it about family, but about love and friendships and laughter and making good memories. I will be with friends who, I am learning, are our family of choice. I wonder if you ever spent a Christmas alone like I did last year, Mom. And I wonder was it hard for your too?  But this year is different.

I used to hate the idea of time passing without you guys. I still hate it, but I cannot change it, so instead I am learning to embrace it more.  I look forward to not being able to say “My Dad died last year.” Because it means that I am moving forward like I know you would want me to. Like I know that I have to. I know that the best way to honor you, and to honor God, is to find all the Joy that life can hold.  And I will.  I will make this life spectacular. All the while, never forgetting that it is your blood that flows through my veins, my beautiful, beautiful parents.

I am going to decorate for Christmas like crazy this year. Two Christmas trees and ALL of the decorations. I will sit and be warm in the glow of everything Christmas and feel close to you both. I will not only embrace the holidays, I will choose to flourish and be  love. And if I don’t have family around, then I will make my own world with all of my friends I love and who love me the most. Life can never be the same, but I can choose to make a life where I am happy and loved.  If we write our own lives, then I can do that. If I don’t feel like I fit in or belong, then I will create my own world where I do.

I still listen to your voicemails, and they make me smile. I never want to forget the sound of your voices. Please keep watching over me and guiding me. And I hope that I make you proud. I have tried very hard to have Grace, but still be tough when needed. It can be a hard balance sometimes. Somehow both of you mastered it, and I hope to one day as well.

I hope you guys are happy where ever you are. And I often wonder, when I look at the moon, if you see it too from your view? Or are you magnificent stars, seeing the moon for yourself? Do you get to see the world, like you always wanted, traveling a new wavelength we cannot yet understand here on Earth? If so, I bet it is spectacular. Or, are you angels, helping just like you did here, just in a different way?

Know that I love you so very much, more than words can say. I honestly don;t know if I love you or miss you more? I carry you with me always. ee cummings said it best. Love you guys, always.

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in

my heart)i am never without it(anywhere

i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done

by only me is your doing,my darling)

                                                      i fear

no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want

no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)

and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows

higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

 

 

 

Honor Thy Mother

Everyone loves anniversaries it seems.  And indeed, we as humans seem to keep track f how long since this event, or that.  We celebrate, reflect, drink or just quietly remember.  And we have anniversaries for everything – how long married or divorced, how long sober, how long dating, how long since we have seen someone…we celebrate anniversaries for just about everything.  Even death. Many honor their loved ones who have passed on that anniversary.  I have a shot of Makers Mark every year to mark the passing of a good friend. We honor them in a thousand ways.

In July it will be two years since Mom passed. And I was wondering how I will honor her this year.  Last year I was sad and cried a lot, drank wine and had a good dinner. But this year I will honor her by…going skydiving.

My mother was very daring and adventurous.  She was the first of her family to leave her tiny town in Tennessee.  She was in the Air Force and had special training, which was rare for a woman in the late 1950s, early 1960s.  She carried a huge .45 on her hip during some of her assignments.  Then she worked in the Pentagon, as a cryptanalyst/cryptographer, which again was very rare for a woman in that time.  She had the most secret clearances, because of the sensitive and classified information she handled.  She had to have roommates that would report her if she talked in her sleep.  And she talked about how she had to go through so many personality tests by the government so that they could find out how much torture she could endure before giving up national secrets.

She had certain medical procedures that are common now, but very experimental during that time. She traveled by herself, flew over the Bermuda Triangle, lived in Washington DC and was engaged seven time (yes, 7) before she married my father.

And she gave it all up to be with my father, who was the love of her life. She was an amazing mother and wife.  She took care of not only her children, but 65 foster children as well, not afraid to go toe to toe with judges if she was fighting for what she felt was the best for the child. She was loyal, and stubborn, and determined, and kind and cull of Grace. And now she is free.

So, to honor her free, generous and adventurous spirit, I will go skydiving. She wasn’t afraid of anything and no one intimidated her. I think it is the perfect day not only to honor her, but to take the opportunity to do something new and scary. To broaden my own horizons and celebrate the amazing woman she was, and who she taught me to be. And I cannot wait…

The Phases of Christmas

There are different phases of grief, it is a process. And this year, this Christmas is a big milestone as far as that process goes.  The first holidays without loved ones are especially hard.  This entry is very raw and very vulnerable.  Honestly it makes me a bit uncomfortable, but if you are going to be honest and pour your heart out, then do it with purpose.  I am not the first to be here and I will not be the last.This is the end of this year, the end of all the loss and the end of the sadness. So, here it is, for anyone who might be going through the same:

Phase 1
I woke up for the first time in my life to an empty, quiet house on Christmas morning. I’m still not sure how to feel about that. I walked around and my Christmas lights were beautiful, the Christmas tree was beautiful, but it was so quiet. There was no one in the kitchen making breakfast for hungry eyes. There was no one inspecting the gifts under the tree. There was no Christmas music playing, or the sound of quiet conversation and laughter as people who got up early tried to be quiet and considerate of people who were still sleeping.

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How lucky I was and have been, to have had so many wonderful Christmases filled with family. And how many people wake up on Christmas morning alone, like me that morning?

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All the sudden I felt so much love for my mother. Every year from the time she had her first child at 27, until the Christmas right before she passed away when she was 74, she made an amazing home where everyone wanted to come and have Christmas morning. I thought of all the years that I woke up, ready to have breakfast and rip open presents. I thought of when I was a child and my sister and I had the tradition of getting up at 5am to play Monopoly until 6, and then would sneak out to see what was in our stockings, and then gently, carefully put everything back in our stockings. We would go back to play Monopoly again until 7am (when Mom and Dad said we could wake them up).

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And I remember even after I’d grown up and moved away, making sure that I was home for Christmas, driving sometimes on Christmas Eve then wrapping all the gifts when I got in. Most of the time Mom’s gifts had already been wrapped as she would have bought them months earlier. When I was young and broke, I could afford the gifts but not always the wrapping paper and accessories. So I would wait until I got home to raid Mom’s impressive wrapping paper, ribbon and bow collection.

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And wrapping was an art in our family. It wasn’t just wrapping a simple gift, no, it was trying to be mischievous and fool the receiver. A small box would be wrapped and then placed in a larger box and wrapped and placed in another larger box and wrapped again. There would be candy and buttons and things that make noise that would be placed in a box that held a book, so that when the gift with shaken, they would never know that it was just a book.

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For many years I was The unofficial photographer of Christmas morning. When everyone got up and started to unwrap the gifts. it was I who would capture it all. All the wonder, and happiness, and family togetherness, and laughter, and surprise, and delight, and love of Christmas morning.

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I wonder if my wonderful, sweet, brave mother ever spent a Christmas morning alone? If she had ever woken up on Christmas morning to an empty house? She came from a large family and so did Dad, so did she ever have that experience? She was married at 26, had children by 27. And did Dad ever wake up and spend a Christmas Eve or Christmas Day alone? It’s amazing how many questions you think of to ask your parents after they’re gone. Ask them now. I am acutely aware that they are gone. And I miss them so very much.

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I’m blessed to have friends who have become my family with whom to spend Christmas dinner. And even more who have extended wonderful invitations. Life is a balance of appreciating what is gone and accepting and being thankful for what is now.

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Phase 2

As I’m getting ready and going around the house, the memory of Last Christmas Creeps in. I was so sad and depressed… it was awful. I showered my Dad with as many gifts as I could possibly afford, getting him everything from new shoes to funny things for his cell phone, to clothes, to socks to everything I could possibly think of. I was trying desperately to make up for the fact that he was so miserable without Mom. I thought that maybe if I gave him enough gifts that he liked, I could make him smile an forget that he was miserable, if only for a second.

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I buzzed around smiling and being Jolly, but I think he knew. And I remember my ex, who was so completely disinterested, but who tried to pretend anyway. Looking back he was always on his cell phone, now I know it was talking with strippers and prostitutes even then. I lavished him with gifts too, trying to bury the guilt of having involved him in my ordeal of Mom dying and then having to live with my terminally ill father.

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I bought him a huge Craftsman tool box among other expensive things. Looking back I was trying to fill the terrible hold that grief had left inside of me by trying to make those in my life happy.  And trying to make up for the fact that life had imploded with death and being a full time caregiver. I thought that if I could give enough gifts, make enough people smile, try to make enough people happy, then maybe I could forget my grief for just a little while too. It didn’t work.

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And last year, after a delicious Christmas dinner, it was time to take Dad back to the rehab center. I picked him up that morning and had to have him back before midnight that night. It was miserable too because he wanted more than anything to just be home. It was heartbreaking to leave him there Christmas night. And even more heartbreaking to go back exhausted to the empty, loveless house that I called home.

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And that is why I even if I have sad moments now this Christmas, even when I shed tears and miss my parents so very much, I’m incredibly thankful that no Christmas will be as horrible as last year – hands down the worst holidays of my life. It is why I face this Christmas with an open heart and understand that there will be some heartbreak and that’s okay. Because last Christmas was the most heartbreaking Christmas of all, and I’m glad for all the opportunities for joy this year has given me. And I’m thankful for what the next year seems to hold. There’s been a lot of lost this year, but I’m still here. I still have the ability to love and to trust and to believe in people. And that in itself is a huge gift wrapped in a big bow.

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Phase 3

I realized that I had the hang of this. That I could do this. The Yule Log was playing with a pretty fire and Christmas music. The cats were running around with new toys. I heard from many family members and friends exchanging Christmas and holiday wishes. I was feeling lots of love. It still felt really weird and surreal as I looked at pictures of Mom and Dad and thought of Christmas in my childhood.

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Phase 4

Christmas dinner with at a friend’s house. There was rushing around to get everything  done and on the table at the same time.  There were people who loved me and who wanted me there.  And that felt really good.  It hurts to have my parents gone.  But I have found my roots, my family of choice.

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There is validation and vindication at the same time. It feels good to be back, to have made it through this huge emotional time.  It feels good to have it done, because I feared the unknown of the holidays.  I have lost both parents, three siblings, one boyfriend and all of his family in the past 18 months. And now I have gone through the first Christmas without any of them. And I made it. If I made it through the past 18 months, I can make it through anything.

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There is nothing more to dread. No more dates of the unknown, no more huge emotional triggers or timeframes.  New Years will be pretty easy – a celebration of saying goodbye to the bad, and saying hello to the wonderful happiness that is coming. I shed the skin of what has been and step into what will be.

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Then the next moment is the first anniversary for Dad.  But since I have been through it with mom, I know what to expect.  That anniversary won’t be easy, but ti also won’t be the unknown.  I know what I am facing, head on. And I have the love of my friends and that love will build this life strong and good and lasting.

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Phase 5

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I did it. I made it through Christmas without you.

There were some tough and lonely moments, but I am blessed to have amazing friends that got me through. There was also joy and celebration. You guys raised me strong and loved me enough for a lifetime, but it doesn’t make making a life without you any easier. But I will be OK.  I love you Mom and Dad. For so many wonderful things, for so many reasons and for so many wonderful holiday traditions and memories. Most of all, I love you for being the most amazing parents in the whole world. Merry Christmas. Love and miss you always.

This Thanksgiving

Change. It is a fact of life. Everyone, at some point, must accept it, learn to deal with it, adapt to it.  But that can very so very hard.

Usually I write about everything I am thankful for in the Month of November – a new list every day.  This Thanksgiving that seems too strange. I do look around and acknowledge the many blessings.  But I am not sure how to act really.  I am very thankful Dad is still here, thankful for my wonderful boyfriend, the fact that we have been blessed to have such a wonderful home and are building a life of love. That I have such wonderful friends who are there for me and love me, that I have a job I love at a great company.

And that I had 42 wonderful Thanksgivings with my mother.  That I was there in her last moments. And for all the wonderful talks and whispers and moments we shared, mother and daughter.  When she looked at me in the hospital and said “I know you truly love me.”  When she smiled and said “I know what that means.”  When I read the letter and notes she wrote labeled “Don’t open unless I am dead”…and how truly funny they were.  Thankful for the way she always knew just what to say, and when to say it, to make me smile and feel better.  Thankful for the taco soup and fresh cut corn that she froze, just for us, knowing she was going to pass. Still taking care of us, even now.

This Thanksgiving will be very different from the ones in the past.  Every Thanksgiving has been at my parent’s place.  Even when I lived far away, the trip would be made to make sure I was there with the rest of the family.  There was always so much food because Mom loved cooking for all of us.  The exception was last year when I begged to have the holiday feast at my place.  Mom and Dad reluctantly agreed and made the trip up to the big city.  It would turn out to be the last with my Mom.  My sister and her three boys were there too.  I treasure those memories.

This is the first year in my life that Mom will not be here for Thanksgiving, or Christmas.  This change is not welcome, but it is as it is and so I must adapt.  Thanksgiving is coming whether Mom is here or not.  And so this year we will spend Thanksgiving around M’s mother’s table. I am thankful for their generosity of taking us in. And no doubt there will be lots of love around that table. Truth be told Dad and I are at a bit of a loss this Thanksgiving…and holiday season in general.

But that is the thing about change – it opens up new opportunities. New ways of thinking about and doing things, and new possibilities.  This Thanksgiving may have a melancholy feel, but it can still be special.  This Thanksgiving is about love. And love is always a good thing.  Because love feeds the Human Spirit, fills in all of our cracks and makes us stronger.

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

Redefintion

It would be easy to call this redefined, but to me a stronger word is needed. To redefinition is to define something from scratch.  When you really have no clue, but have to figure it out anyway.  This is where I am.

There are a few things to redefinition in my life.  First, life is great, all things considered.  A great career, a great company, a wonderful relationship, amazing, supportive, loving friends.  I am very lucky and blessed.  But even with all of that, there is a lot of figuring out.

Happiness:  Happiness after the loss of a loved one feels different.  I am a happy person by default, having an upbeat disposition.  But I am acutely aware of who is missing.  Wanting to call and not being able.  But knowing she is here with me, watching over me, saying hello with little signs.  There is happiness in these things.

Family:  Now the family unit must be redefinitioned (yes that is a word, at least in my dictionary).  Mom is gone now.  And my closest sister in age and geography has stepped out of the picture, no longer wanting to be a part of mine or Dad’s life.  So I must figure out how to be a family now.  Thank goodness there are 3 other siblings on which to lean and who are being very supportive. My answer? LOVE.  What will that look like for Dad’s 80^th birthday?  Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years?  I have no idea.  But surely there is enough love out there to figure it out.

Adulting:  Crap. This means I have to be an adult.  I still have trouble putting my pants on without falling on my face.  I have no idea what I am doing, or how to do it. Unless it involves falling, tripping and breaking my toes.  I would like to think that I will get through this with Grace and Humor.  More than likely it will be a lot of long pauses, awkward moments and blank stares. The role of Humor will be played by those who are watching.  I know, you aren’t laughing at me, you are laughing near me…

Love:  Holy crap, do I have enough love to fill the void of Mom, sister, her three sons? I have no idea, but certainly with faith and prayer I will find out.  It’s going to be rough, but it can be done.  People do it every day, so we can too.  And no doubt there will be plenty of laughter along the way, as there always is.  That is the thing about life – we may never know or understand the roads on which we end up traveling, but we can at least make the best of it.

Grief: I have no idea what grief looks like, but I have a feeling that I am deeply in the middle of a staring contest with it.  I am going to win too.  After going through all of the phases, which I am not even sure of what they are called.  But a rose by any other name…so does it really matter?  I imagine grief and I will become quite good friends before the end. So I hope it likes coffee and wine.  And soft pillows.

Every day: Slowly I am getting my groove back.  Getting back to work, being productive…not bursting out in tears every hour.  That is pretty huge.  My co-workers were beginning to think my puffy eyes and red nose were a permanent thing.  Life is getting back to being a series of serious and comedic moments.  Living with an 80-year-old is an adventure.  He likes it really warm. As in 90 degrees feels good to him.  Like when we ordered pizza. And he wanted to eat it outside. When it was 93 degrees.  My boyfriend and I are melting, trying to eat this hot pizza, sweat pouring out of use like were are made of holes.  Meanwhile, Dad is oblivious, even putting hot sauce on his slice commenting on what a nice evening it was.  But I wouldn’t have it any other way.

The Holidays:  See above family.  Just an expansion.  Mom held everything together.  Now we have to figure it out on our own.  For sure there will be a big Christmas tree.  Her ornaments.  Wrapping. And wrapping. And wrapping.  Hot chocolate. Cats. A big fireplace.  And not sure what else.  We will figure it out when we get there. Redefinition.

Decoration:  I already had a stuffed house before my boyfriend moved in.  Now more things with Dad.  I am discovering the lost art of cleaning out, throwing away things I haven’t used or worn in years to make room for…more stuff.  It is liberating and slightly scary.  When was the last time you looked in those boxes that have been packed for the last 20 years??  Yep, did that a few weeks ago.  And everywhere you look, there is a painting, picture, piece of furniture.  And whatever you do, do not open that closet door!

Dinner time:  We usually cook every night anyway, but it is pretty cool to have another at the dinner table at night.  And then after dinner conversations.  Beer or wine on the patio.  TV?  At some point I will have to binge watch everything I have missed and am missing.  I may need to book at “Bedcation” to catch up.

Gardening:  In addition to lots of stuff, I have inherited about 40 plants.  Except I am not good with plants, but I am determined to changed that.  Everything from a Delicious Monster, or a Staghorn Fern, to rubber tree plants, to a ficus benjamina, to many cacti, to other green things, this is going to be a very leafy adventure (hopefully). There are plants everywhere in the yard, and this winter, my house will be the greenhouse. Should be interesting with the cats…

Working out:  Help! My fat pants seem to have shrunk in the laundry…Or maybe I just need to get to the gym, eventually.  Between working and everything else, the gym, or even working out at home, seems like a distant fantasy. It’s a shame redefinitioning doesn’t burn any calories, because if it did I would be in my skinny jeans.

No doubt many others have redefinitioned these things too, and more.  The great thing about life is that we do get to make up our own rules, we do get to write how we want it.  And whatever these things are, I want them to be stuffed with Love.  Like a giant stuff olive (can you tell I am hungry?)

How Being a Misfit is Good

I have a confession to make. And it’s pretty big, so you may want to sit down. Here it is: I am a misfit. Yep. Totally. Absolutley.

According to the Briggs-Meyers personality test, I am an ENTJ, which for those people who know me in reality, describes me to a T. And I am also quite a bit of a misfit. I am clumsy, often put my foot in my mouth, my entire life is a sitcom of embarrassing and Bridget Jones type situations. And my lack of ability to spell on this blog puts me in rare company. Let’s face it, anyone who manages to drop their drug test pee cup in front of a super hot guy, or trip over a couch in a furniture store just has to accept the fact that they are different.

But everyone else is different too, that makes me normal. Kind of.

Being a misfit is not all bad. Many people and companies can benefit from the “misfits.” These traits are what also make me creative and able to write so well. These traits are what give me the ability to communicate with such a huge cross-section of people about such a wide array of topics. These traits are also what get me into trouble from time to time.

Details are very important. and they are the bane of my existence. I am horrible at details. When I was in school, I could do the math in my head, but hard a hard time getting the right answers when I worked  them out long hand. Want to see both a frustrated student and teacher? Try a student who can only do the math in her head, and a teacher who can’t get the student to get the right answer worked out on paper. I couldn’t explain how I got it right, but the teacher knew I wasn’t cheating because I did not have access to the answers.

Which is more important though, the ability to pay attention to detail, or the ability to concentrate? Not sure. I do have great concentration abilities. Which is good because I am so bad at details. I have to concentrate very hard to be meticulous. And it works. I often uncover details in my research that no one else can find and am able to put the information together in ways others can not connect.  And the great thing about being an adult and not in school is that you can just call it “instinct,” and then you don’t have to explain it on paper.

Listening is also a great ability to have, but it is one that does not come natural to me either. That is because many times my brain is going so fast with ideas that I miss out on what the other person is saying. I have to concentrate, once again, on slowing down and make a conscious effort to listen. That takes an effort. So what it boils dow to is this: If I care about you I will listen to you. If I don’t, I won’t. Because if I don’t care about you, why would I care what you have to say? It’s not very politically correct, but that is the reality.

What I have found about listening  is that it’s an intensely intimate act. To quiet your own thoughts down enough to hear the other persons voice is tremendous. To really take in what they are saying, comprehend the meaning behind it, and listen to what they are not saying as well. Listening is an act of compassion, caring, empathy and love. Because just the single act of listening creates connection. You cannot truly listen to another and not feel a connection, whether positive or negative.

Listening also forces you to take a step back and consider other possibilities. I am a bit of a control freak, but if I listen to what someone I care about wants, and it is different from what I want, I have to let go. I have to give up control and let the other person in. Listening forces you to let go, because if you care about the other person, what they want and how they feel, you want them to be happy. Others cannot be happy if you are always in control.

Another thing that makes me a misfit? The fact that when I am in my car I have conversations in my head. I think of how the best way to handle meetings, conflicts and conversations. I plan out what I need to say and how. That is how much of a control freak I am. So listening to others helps me stay connected with others. Listening helps me let life unfold on it’s own, without my interference.

Those are the big things that contribute to my misfitness. There are also the issues of my extreme clumsiness, my inability to grow houseplants without killing them, the fact that I must walk on my tip toes when happy or when going up stairs, the extreme need for a daily fix of chocolate and a ridiculous work ethic.

But looking around, many others have those issues too. So maybe we can all be misfits, together.

Avoiding Love is Finding Hell

A passage from C.S.Lewis from his book The Four Loves:

There is no safe investment. To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one,     not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket — safe, dark, motionless, airless — it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The alternative to tragedy, or at least to the risk of tragedy, is damnation. The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell…We shall draw nearer to God, not by trying to avoid the sufferings inherent in all loves, but by accepting them and offering them to Him; throwing away all defensive armour. If our hearts need to be broken, and if He chooses this as a way in which they should break, so be it. What I know about love and believe about love and giving ones heart began in this.

.Aaron Manley Smith wrote: “The hard part I’ve had to learn, as a man, when we truly love someone, is that, there comes a moment when we have to choose to humbly and peacefully take the beating because they need something to beat and you’re the only thing that will take it and turn it into the love they so desperately need and have been denied…”

Love is a word that inspires and haunts us. It is one of the most powerful things that drives us in our lives – love of a partner, of friends, the love of a parent to a child. What would we not do for love?

I don’t know the answer to that question. Or maybe I do. I will not become bitter, even in the throws of a broken heart. I will not close myself up, I will not put myself in the “casket” of Hell. The same love that God gives to me, flows through me and it must not stop there. It must be given to others – friends, family, and children. Contrary to the fairy tales, love is not always easy. It should not always be hard, but it often is. Because we are, as humans, imperfect and jagged. And we will inevitable hurt each other.

I prayed for something larger and bigger than myself to build. Something that was more important than just me. I had no idea how God might choose to put it in my life to answer that prayer, but at the cornerstone of it, I think, is Love.

But it is not easy, and it is not going to be easy. I face many hardships, questions and struggles in the future. Can I do this? Myself? Maybe I can’t, but Love can. Love will find a way. And on those days when I feel like I can’t, when my knees are shaking, my heart breaking, my soul hurting, Love can carry me though.

I must trust that love will find it’s way into my cracks and crevices, to make me stronger, as rusted and ragged as I currently feel.

Like one of my best Friends Rex writes of those hard times, they lead to a rich life, with love, heartache, the good, bad and ugly. But it is real and it is what life is all about. And I would rather take a chance at loving someone and live a life of those missed opportunities, even when it doesn’t work, than be so closed up and untrusting, that I miss the greatest loves of my life. For that is no life at all.

And when you love someone, you allow them their days and their faults. I have seen this with my own parents, married 45 years in November, There have been times when my father was angry, and lashed out at my mother, and vise-versa. When you love, you absorb those faults as if they are your own, because you love. You give, you take, you absorb, you love. You don’t get scared because some views or opinions are different than yours. If everything was the same, it would be very boring. And if it is that shallow, then it is not love at all. For love is deep.

As long as the core values are the same – family, faith, partnerships, morals, integrity – then that is half the battle. The other half is finding someone who will accept you faults and who you do not mind “taking a beating from” as Aaron Manley Smith says. Because you are open to love and getting hurt is part of it. If you are open to the joy, then you must be open to the pain. It is as it must be, there is not one without the other. No one is perfect. We all have bad days, we all get into fights, we all have doubts, some days more than others.

And on those other days, it must be love that carries us through. Love for ourselves, love for another, love for friends, love for family, love for children

And we carry that love in our hearts and in our soul:

i carry your heart with me

By e e cummings

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in

my heart)i am never without it(anywhere

i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done

by only me is your doing,my darling)

i fear

no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want

no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)

and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows

higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

Dating

The art of writing is the art of discovering what you believe. Gustave Flaubert

It is that time again. …time for me to step out into the big, wide world of dating. I have spent the last 6 weeks or so in mourning so to speak.  I cared deeply for someone, it did not work out, I took some time. It is time that I move on. Several have said that I will not be single long, and in the past that has definitely been the case. But I want to choose right this time.

My last relationship taught me a lot.  I learned that I do not want to settle for anything less than what makes my heart skip a beat, who makes me feel loved, safe, warm and wonderful.  But I also learned not to trust flash. I like an alpha male who takes control…but actions speak louder than words, and charm needs to go deeper than the epidermus to be of use to me.

And so I am ready to date again. I am ready to kiss and be kissed, thrill  and be thrilled, love and be loved. I am ready to hold and be held, to laugh, to be told I am beautiful. I am ready to be valued for more than just a fill in, I am ready to make someone happy – just me. I am ready to be happy, to trust, for his actions to match his words so I can believe. I am ready to have someone take my hand in theirs, and not care who sees or who knows. I am ready for the possibility of something serious, and returning to the slow burn, instead of being burned by the fast flame. I am ready for slow and steady.

And already, the choice is mine as I look for the one man who is worthy of my loyalty and devotion. And already, love surrounds me, it is everywhere and it is mine for taking. There is not even a need to ask, it is simply there It is summer, it is warm and it is time.

And I whisper….Be gentle to this tender heart as it has been hurt so in the past. But the future is as bright and hopeful as the summer. And promises to be just as fun.

http://youtu.be/KUn-XOQoN3U

Normalcy

Finally. As I sit alone in my room, in my bed, surrounded by what is familiar and comforting, I finally feel a bit normal. After a bit of reading a great book that I have not had time to pick up for the last two weeks and getting drawn into the delicious story, sipping Sleepy Time tea, my two cats happy and purring, one on either side of me, I start to relax.

I do not feel like bursting into tears, I do not feel wrought with worry, I do not feel anxious or irritable. Even all of my writing, creativity desperately pouring out of me as I pound the keyboard, has not been able to quiet my brain from the thoughts of what if and doctors, and family, and hospitals and grief and the possibility of such a deep loss. All in my family are healthy and alive tonight. For this I am so very grateful.

Now, in this moment, all is quiet and well. For the first time in a month. And I look down a my small feet and red toenail polish that matches my fingertips, let my head rest on the wrought metal headboard of my massive sleigh bed, and sigh. Finally. Normalcy.

normalcy – being within certain limits that define the range of normal functioning

GREAT version of this song…great song for a watcher….

Guest Post – I am What I Am

A great writer, a great man, and a great friend – Rex. Another great guest post. Enjoy!!

I am What I Am

   I am the last person in America you can insult with impunity: I am white, Anglo-Saxon, protestant, male, straight, Southern, Democrat, second marriage with step kids, religious but not zealous, unrich, right-handed, smoker-drinker, hazel-eyed, graying hair, 30 pounds over “ideal” weight, meat-eating, non gun-toting, destroyer of the utopian future world we were all promised.

     Don’t believe me? Watch any on-screen news or entertainment: I’m rude, crude, backward, burping, ignorant, and arrogant about it.

     Don’t believe me? Rerun any of the Super Tuesday election news coverage and commentary pre, during, and post; commentaries included.

     Conclusion: we can’t do anything right.

     Well, new society dawning: make up your mind.

     Not long ago I entered a downtown Chattanooga building and held the door’s momentum at bay for a lady behind me. Very curtly she said, “I can open my own door, thank you.” And I was dismissed.

     Four doors down later on Market Street I did the same for a guy with a bunch of delivery boxes. “Thanks, man!”

     Given his youth, uniform and physique I’m he was quite capable of backing through the door, or for that matter removing it, by himself.

     Didn’t matter I did both for the same reason: I had the power to let the door’s momentum smack ‘em both. How self-absorbed would I have been if I had done so? Not cool.

     A few years later I was in a pizza place watching a Braves game on a Saturday afternoon; just one other guy, the bartender, a 35-ish lady at the other end of the bar, and me.

     Her, “Anyone know what time it is?

     Me,  “It’s 4:15.”

     Her, “Thank you, and no, it doesn’t mean you can buy me a drink.”

     Okay, I was in a foul mood; my girlfriend’s mother was visiting I was avoiding.

     Me,  “Ma’m, I can get three like you for a week’s paycheck on Governor’s Drive.”

     She huffed out but the bartender bought my next beer.

     Has it come to the point where we think everyone is out exclusively for their own gratification? That courtesy is just an iceberg tip on a hidden agenda? That no one has a right to be angry with you but you have a right to judge never having set one step in another’s shoes? That you don’t need to know their story because yours is all-encompassing?

     Retool. Gentlemen, we need to grow more backbone and less false bravado and oh-poor-me lifestyles. Oh, and learn when to bow out gracefully and know when to run.

     Belligerence is not strength and acceptance is not weakness.

     Female persons: make up your mind, willya?! You see fluid dynamics guys deal in absolutes. You want us sensitive then swoon over the lumberjack. You want us manly but we risk you seeing us as coarse.

     For my 1,632 square inches of the world here’s the deal: I drive a car which is two years from getting a “classic” tag (the AARP card of autos), I let God wash it if He wants to (rain). It gets me point A to point B. This is my home/apartment; I live here. I do not press my underwear, hell, I don’t wash them until I run out. Alicia can wash ‘em if she wants to if not, fine, too. I usually don’t do dishes until I am nearly out or cranking up to cook something elaborate. Now I have a dishwasher; a better place to store the dirties.

     I do not get ballet but recognize its place in art and culture and love the symphony. I love my music souvenirs, from the rock that held the door open for decades at Muscle Shoals Sound, to Mickey Buckins’ drumsticks, to the rubber band the Spinners gave me, to my autographed playbills and drumheads, to my “Casablanca” poster. Alicia gave me one whole room just for that stuff.

     I don’t stay coiffed or in late fashion or design: jeans (from JCP or Walmart), T-shirt (right now mine says, “Huntsville est. 1805”), and open Hawaiian shirts. I keep facial hair because Alicia likes it and so do I (even though it’s harder to shave now than with no beard). I am untattooed and unpierced but my scars speak for me.”The look”, fashion, and pop psychology, like ear candles, come and go. Real is forever and easily maintained. Just because your feathers are ruffled don’t make you Christ-on-the-Cross.

     Enough. I am what I am. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.

     So come down off your cross, leave it in the “might access later” file, resurrect, and go have a little fun.

     In the meantime stop building crosses; you’re runnin’ out of people to help carry them.

 

Faith in Love

What makes us, I wonder, have faith in love? On the surface, this may seem like a silly question, but it has a much deeper significance. What I mean is, after we see it fail so many times, what makes us want to keep trying? What makes us still have faith in that happily ever after? What makes us still have that glimmer of hope that one day…Where is the origin of Faith in Love? From where does it come?

What makes us keep looking and what makes us settle for less than what we really want? Do we just get lonely? It is born from the need to share? I recently had someone tell me that they were not with the person they really wanted, but that they just didn’t want to be alone, they had a lot of great gifts to give and just wanted to make someone happy. This person is just human. I think many people have felt that way at some point in their lives. I have felt that way. The only thing that has stopped me from having a ‘place holder’ so to speak is the knowledge that I would probably hurt the other person. No one wants to be just a ‘place holder’ – that person who is used because no one better is available.

The Book I am currently reading has me thinking of many things. In addition to the wonderful erotic part of this story, there is further examination of the bonds of love and how it truly feels in the human soul. When the two main characters meet, she describes the feeling of when they first shake hands. That current of electricity, how it nearly knocks her off her feet, how she feels it every time they meet subsequently after, how it affects her, how she knows she has to stay away from it at first and exactly how things develop from there. I have felt that electricity upon meeting twice in my lifetime.  Once in my early 20’s, once in my late 30’s and fell in love with them as well. I wonder if that electricity is real, or just an attraction? Is that the platform on which love begins, or it is just an illusion? Is there really such a thing as love at first sight? And what makes us have faith that it actually does exist?

I know from experience, that when we feel that electricity, especially if it is mutual, (and if it is that strong then it usually is), it is irresistible to us and we must follow. I tried both times to stay far away from both men I felt it with, and failed miserably. I simply could not stay away, as circumstances seemed to interfere again and again, making sure we were at the same place at the same time. Scary, thrilling, fun, breathtaking, amazing, terrifying are just some of the words that come to mind. And we must follow.

Maybe it is Hope that makes us have faith in Love, and that love at first sight does exist. I say that because I hope what I felt was real. I hope that the next time it truly lasts. I hope that what was felt was mutual. And I hope one day I feel it again. One thing is for sure, when you have felt it, that strong, pure and irresistible, it makes it hard to settle for anything else. A ‘place holder’ just is so…small and pale in comparison. And as powerful as loneliness can be, I don’t think it is powerful enough to replace the hope of that feeling again. Maybe the third time will be the charm.

 

Repost: I Miss You

I was asked to post this again. So here it is. Enjoy!

I Miss You

To miss someone is defined as to discover or feel the absence of. But I think it is much more than that, You can notice someone is not there, but not miss them. When someone says “I miss you.” A certain feeling in conveyed. A feeling of not just noticing someone’s absence, but wishing for their return. Even that does not peg exactly what missing feels like.

To me, missing someone means much more. It means that you think about them, and think of them fondly.  That they pop into your head at different times during the day, like when you hear a song or something happens you would like to tell them, but can’t. It means that you want to know about what is happening with them, and you would like to reestablish a connection. It means you like them and wish them to be close. You wish they were here. You want to hear their voice, see their smile, be in their physical presence.

And what is the cure for this missing? Well, aside from the obvious –  spending time together, talking and bonding, there really isn’t anything to be done. You just, miss them. And maybe, if you are lucky, in time, they return or you don’t miss them as much. Until then, you keep busy, dive into work, distract your mind. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes you just have to miss them anyway.

And to me, that is what it means to say I miss you.