A letter to my mother.............

Hi Mom,
   I miss you. For weeks I've been watching the calendar, keenly aware that the date you left us 25 years ago is quickly approaching. July 22. I hate that day. I will always hate that day. It's the day my life changed forever. I've debated how to best honor your  memory on that day. I thought about putting a memorial in the paper. But that seems showy. And frankly, times have really changed mom and not many people who knew you are likely to read the paper anymore. Then I thought about why I want to honor your memory and what I hope to accomplish and I realized I really just want to talk to you and tell you I've missed you and that I cannot believe you've been gone from us for 25 years. And I need to clear my head and heart about our relationship so I can finally move on. I want to tell you I forgive you and I love you, more than anything.

I remember the day you died as if it were yesterday. I'd never been in a funeral home in my life and suddenly my mother, at 48 years young was dead. You were way too young, way too healthy when it all happened and I didn't understand.I still don't. It shouldn't have happened.

 Because you and I had a difficult relationship; I first went through tremendous guilt. How many times, as a young girl and teen, had I lain crying in my bedroom wishing you dead. And it came to be. Then dad, in his own way of grieving, shut me out of his life and I went through tremendous gut wrenching grief. I'd lost both of my parents. I had my 4 year old daughter,Shandra, the light of your life, who didn't understand where you went. I had a brand new marriage to a man that would turn out to be a tormentor in our lives. He didn't want to share me with my grief and I was struggling to keep it all together. He used my grief and pain to further hurt me. I built a shrine of photos and memories of you in my home and I placed you and my memories high up on a pedestal. I was 28 years old,trapped in a terrible marriage with a young daughter to protect and you were gone. And dad had deserted me at the same time. I'm grateful now that I had my daughter to focus on because it kept me going. Ironically, despite our difficult relationship; you had begged me not to marry that man and I didn't listen to you. You feared he wouldn't be good to my child and you were right. Ten years later, I left him for that very reason. That was my strongest, proudest moment in my life. I stood up to a monster and fought for my children and for me.
   No one knows for sure what Heaven is like. Maybe you know everything that is happening in my life. Maybe you don't. Many times, early on, I felt your presence in my surroundings. Several times I felt sure you personally sent a sign of one sort or another. When cousin Jeff got married and the one lone candle kept blowing out, was that you? Were you there? We all believed you were.

 Dad's gone now too mom. Maybe you've seen him? I'm still grieving his death very deeply. You know I was always a daddy's girl and that he and I got along best. I'm lost without him. I can't stop that horrible pain deep inside when I allow myself to think about him and his having died.  I wish now that I'd asked so many questions about you and him and my childhood. There isn't anyone to answer them now. You have 9 grandchildren now mom, several grandsons in law and 3 great  grandchildren. In our house we no longer use the word "step" so it doesn't really matter whether they're biological or not. You would love them all. My little granddaughter Lily is to me what Shandra was to you and I would love to share this joy with you. Tomorrow is her birthday and I so wish you could be there.
   It isn't lost on me that had you lived, my life would've taken very different paths than what it has. If you had been here for me to run to, I'd have left the abusive marriage long before 10 years. If you hadn't died, maybe as I reached my mature adulthood; you and I might have been able to recognize where your torment came from and how it became mine and we might be the best of friends now. I'd like to think so.
   A few years after you died, I stopped putting you on that pedestal and I began to allow myself to remember my miserable childhood at your hands. I remembered the feeling that you never loved me, that I had somehow disappointed you, that you seemed to favor the boys and savor the opportunities to put me down and hurt my feelings. I remembered the terrible things you did to humiliate me, the terrible things I did to humiliate myself, while trying to gain your approval. I never understood it wasn't in you to give it to me. All I wanted was for you to be proud of me, to love me and it seemed like the harder I tried to accomplish that, the more elusive it became. And I was a fat kid ( I'm still fat mom!!!) and I believed that was the reason for all of it. I was an embarrassment to you. But the coping skill I found as a child was, sadly, to eat. I ate my pain away. Or at least I tried. So it was a vicious circle, one that neither you or I were able to recognize or stop. For many years, I walked around angry, doing a slow burn on the inside. As family situations evolved with my grandmother and aunts-your family-I began to realize that you had your own torments and demons. I remembered all the bickering between you, your sisters and your mother and how I was torn in the middle of it all. I remembered all the times you went to bed with a "headache" and all the counseling sessions you and dad attended. I especially remembered the year you and dad separated. I was a freshman in high school and I was elated about the separation. I hated you and how you made me feel and I wanted to live with dad after the divorce. But you reconciled and the torment continued for me. And my brothers and I watched various versions of what a marriage can be like, some wonderful lessons, some not. 
   Eventually, through counseling I realized something, mom. You didn't give birth to me with the intention of tormenting me. You couldn't have. I took everything I was seeing and gathering from your family and likened it up to the way you had treated me and I realized you were doing what you had learned as a child. THAT was your "headaches" and "cruelness" and "coldness" coming back to haunt you. And me.That was a bitter pill for me to swallow because I adored my grandmother and I had to admit she'd been cruel to you, before I could understand and forgive my childhood. And that made me feel so sad for you. I don't think your life was a very happy one and I am so sorry for that, for you.
   After grandma died,ties with your sisters fell apart. One walked away from the family to save herself, as I did. And the other two continued to try to control and connive their way through the inheritance that we all should've shared. I didn't care about the money. Once I realized that there was a family pattern of abuse, I just wanted to get away from it. Once, many years ago, my cousin Julie and I talked about our eating disorders and it wasn't lost on us that as the only two female grandchildren, we both had issues with food. It was all part of that need to please, to gain approval  and the control and manipulation we experienced as children. I ate too much to make my pain go away and she starved herself in an effort to be perfect. So much emphasis was placed on appearances and diet in our family, it wasn't healthy at all. It was that controlling Dutch heritage that we were born into. That you were born into. I remember my grandmother telling me how horribly her mother treated her back in the Netherlands. I just never connected the dots and realized you'd also experienced it. I'm so sorry mom. 

 I don't see the boys either mom. When you died, all our lives fell apart in different ways. Bill(names not real) had a couple of failed marriages before he disappeared out east and shut everyone out. He wouldn't even talk to dad on the phone when dad was taking his last breaths. We begged him but it wasn't to be. I think losing you was something he never got over. He's a recluse. Jim (names not real) married a very bitter,unkind woman and he and I have mutually become  permanently estranged. I've tried a couple of different times to make it work but I always get hurt and I just can't do that anymore. I did try mom. I don't think you'd like her very much. You and she would clash.
 Did you know that after my abusive marriage ended, I reunited with Shandra's birth father and we got married. Him, you would've liked!! We had five incredibly happy years and if I had it to do over, I would, despite knowing his alcoholism would end it all. But he was and is a good man, kind, gentle, hardworking..........he just has his own struggle with an addiction.
  I wish you could see Shandra. Or, maybe you can. She's gorgeous, she looks very much like you. She's so happy and beautiful and full of life. Her husband is so good to her. And she to him.
   And I wish you could meet my step mom, Norma. Dad did a great thing when he married her. She brought us back together again. She brought dad back to his church too. And during our many heart to heart talks, any time I mentioned my negative memories of you, she always came to your defense and pointed out that maybe I'd let time overshadow my good memories of you.
    I'm in a good place now mom. I want you to know that. I just really, really miss you and dad. It just doesn't seem fair. I don't have any family left from my childhood. I watch my friends and my husband with their parents and I want that. I want it so bad. I want to be able to point to my children with pride and see you smile. I want to snatch up my grand baby and plunk her on your lap and laugh with you. I want to go out to lunch with you or go shopping. I want to curl up with a cup of coffee and talk about all this "stuff" from the past. People tell me I look like you and I love that. You were so pretty.
   You would like my husband. Dad did. I think he was very happy that I finally got it right. Larry is everything a husband should be. He's reliable, considerate, hard working, stable..........and he loves me despite all my baggage. We don't have much money but we have a cozy home and wonderful kids and grandkids and we are best friends. I would be very lost without him. I hope that you are looking down and know I am ok. I just wish I could look upward and see that you are too.

I'll see you one day again mom and we will have so much to talk about. I love you. Be at peace!

It's a whole new world..........

Hi friends,
   It has been almost a year since I've posted on my blog. On April 22 of last year my dad passed away and everything came to an abrupt halt in my heart. It's taken me the better part of a year to figure some things out, come to terms with my grief and to find some way to honor my father in my life, to make his death mean more than just the fact that he has left us.It was not an easy lesson. I learned that when we lose someone we love, we cannot undo time, we can cry all we wish but it will not bring our loved one back. We can be angry all we wish but it will not bring our loved one back. We can try to make time and life stand still ,but life will go on. And it will go on without bringing our loved one back. It's painful, it's empty and it's cruel. But it is what it is. Someone dear to me recently quoted Gertrude Stein's " a rose is a rose is a rose is a rose" to me. The same is true of life and of death.
   Looking back, much of the past year is a blur to me. I remember watching my stepmother grieve the loss of my father, wishing I could find the words to ease her pain. I remember saying goodbye to two elderly friends of mine, causing me to be afraid to care and love because of the inevitable pain of loss in the future.I remember that I severed ties with a family member who caused too much drama and pain in my life for much too long. I remember that I don't remember spending much quality time with the man I love. We were on auto pilot much of this past year.
     I know that I made a job change that was horribly stressful, likely in my own attempt to stay busy and forget how unfair life is. The job robbed me of a personal life, of time for myself, my family or even God. It was a horrible experience for me and exhausted me in every way possible. I didn't burn the candle at both ends, no sir, not me. I melted it down to nothing but a puddle. I pulled away from church. I stopped putting in time at the gym or watching my diet in relation to my diabetes. I put myself in a mighty race against the clock and it was a hopeless fight.
  Our bodies can do odd things when under stress and mine didn't disappoint. I returned to the crazy insomniac I had been in years past. My body broke out in a relentless, miserable rash that my doctor could not explain. I experienced allergic reactions to chemicals I'd touched many times before. I had headaches, sore throats, earaches. But I kept running that race. I felt I had something to prove.
    My  husband was a trouper, he's always been my best friend and my rock. He picked up the slack at home and made dinners, he stepped in and shopped for groceries.... whatever needed doing,he did it.One day I found myself hiding in the ladies room at work because I just could not put one foot in front of the other and go out there and face one more customer.I finally, finally decided I had lost control of my life. When I  went home and told my best friend and rock that  I needed to quit the race and admit defeat, he was right there waiting with a hug. I felt as if someone had lifted a building off my back.
  I barely caught my breath and I found myself experiencing some bizarre physical symptoms that earned me a ride in an ambulance ( THAT wasn't on  my bucket list but was a bit of an adventure!), a visit to ER and ultimately a stay in the cardiac unit of the hospital. Lots of tests and doctors and dollars later, it was concluded that my physical heart is working just fine. But I knew that.Deep down I knew that, though common sense dictated I  must endure their tests to be sure. I've always been an easy patient and I'm a big girl about a night in a hospital bed but only one other time in my life, can I recall being so desperate to go home, to my own bed and to my best friend. That was the day my dad had died.I just wanted to go home. I was exhausted and battle weary. There's no place like home.
   When I finally got home from the hospital I was...... not myself. I was exhausted but not sleepy. I was hungry but had no appetite. I was sad but no tears. I was happy to be home but no joy. I was just plain empty and wore out. I had some quiet time to rest and think, to just be. I thought a lot about my dad and how I'd watched him lay in a cardiac unit, only in very grave circumstances. I thought about the past months and how I'd lost so many opportunities to just enjoy life. And I began to think about what I want my life to be like, what I want to enjoy. I began to sort out who and what is important to me and who and what is not. I found myself ridding our home of some unnecessary clutter. I got rid of "stuff", items I'd kept because I "had to" and items I kept because they'd "cost money". I returned to church and to God. I forgave him for taking my daddy away from me and I begged Him to help me be a better person, a more joyous person and to take better care of this body He gave me. I streamlined my life and my home to allow more time for me and for my marriage and family rather than spending so much time keeping up my house full of junk that I didn't need to keep! It's a work in progress, but I'm liking the results.
   I am rested now, both physically and emotionally. I have begun to enjoy crocheting, something I learned as a child from my grandmother. I have been baking and cooking. I have connected with a long lost relative via regular emails and we have had great fun getting to know each other all over again. I have been treasuring phone chats with my daughter and step daughter. I have been enjoying every single giggle and snuggle with my youngest grand daughter. I now live for quiet times with my husband over a cup of coffee. I am happiest when our dinner table is surrounded by our children or family. I get absolutely giddy when I complete a small crochet project!!
   I plan to take up yoga because the peace and meditative qualities of it appeal to me. My husband and I have vowed to get back to the gym and make it a "date night". We have promised each other we will work on socializing more with other couples and with family.
   And in the midst of this newly discovered peace and purpose in my life, I have been blessed with a  job opportunity that I feel very good about. It is work I am familiar with and have excelled at in the past. It comes with rewards that do  not expect  my personal life to cease. I feel a change coming on and it is good. I still miss my dad terribly and I always will, but I can smile when I think of him and I  think he is nodding approval that I've finally come full circle to where I was always meant to be. I will spend the rest of my life with joy.I WILL, YOU JUST WATCH ME.
  

 You look ridiculous if you dance
You look ridiculous if you don't dance
So you might as well
dance.”
― Gertrude Stein

Don't sweat the small stuff!

I'm a worrier.  I am a planner. And I'm a little bit OCD. I like my house very neat and clean, I vacuum my car every week and I have lists for my lists. My life is very organized. My day planner plays second fiddle in importance only to The Bible. If the laundry begins to pile up or my "to do" list gets too long, I get a little bit crazy. When I am under stress, cleaning and putting things back in order gives me a sense of control again.  I like to live my life skipping merrily down the path with as few yield signs as possible. When I find myself contemplating setting tomorrow's supper table today or making an unnecessary stop at the store because I finished the rice and grocery day is four days away, I know it's time to reign myself in. Sometimes though, I just  get so focused on that merry little path, I fail to see the flowers or trees, the yield signs or even the stop signs. I've set my engine on cruise. That's when God steps in and reminds me what is important. He throws a little speed bump my way to remind me to slow down. Recently though, I think he put my little path under road construction! A little speed bump wasn't going to slow me down. I found myself, along with my husband, at my father's bedside watching him struggle for life. As I sat there quietly holding dad's hand, listening to the rhythmic sounds of the equipment keeping his body functioning, gazing around at all the monitors and tubes, I had a lot of time to think and reflect. More importantly, I had a lot of time to pray. I was in a room I'd never been in before, in a hospital I wasn't familiar with, in a state far from home. I was living out of a suitcase and existing on hurried meals in the hospital cafeteria. I was whispering words of encouragement to my father to fight hard for life and I was praying, begging God to heal him. As I watched my step mom grieve with every setback and rejoice with every victory and  as I watched highly trained doctors and nurses work to save lives and comfort families; my dirty kitchen floor and half completed grocery list at home became so unimportant. The only thing on my mind was seeing my father's body heal. In the last 10 days of my life, I am certain I have talked more to God, than ever before. And He has listened and answered me.  My little path of contentment has been under construction and I don't mind the detour at all. I just want the people I love to be healthy and happy. Nothing else seems to matter anymore.

This past weekend, my husband and I set our sights for home again, facing a 22 hour drive, non-stop. Halfway home, around 3 am on a quiet highway in Tennessee, our truck broke down. We had to call for police assistance then a tow truck and finally, we had to sit for about 8 hours at a car dealership while the parts were obtained and our truck was repaired.  When we finally pulled in our driveway at home, it had been over 40 hours since we'd slept and we were tired and dirty and functioning on auto pilot. My heart and head were still back in that hospital room with my dad, but I was back home. Had I been skipping merrily down my path when the truck broke down, I would've been incredibly upset, frustrated and afraid. I would've complained because it was 50 degrees out and I was cold. I would've obsessed about the cost and the loss of time. I probably would've indulged in a little self pity. But after  the last week , seeing how precious life itself is and realizing how deeply I love and hurt, our experience was just a hiccup.  Rather than focus on the negatives, I realized how blessed we were to encounter such helpful people.There was the police officer who went out of his way to help us and pointed us in the right direction for help on a Saturday morning. There was the night janitor at the dealership who let me in to use the restroom at 4am. There was the service manager who showed up at work an hour before opening, who made us coffee and invited us to wait inside. I took the lemons that I was handed and made lemonade. It quenched my thirst and it was delicious! Maybe tomorrow, I will try a different road from the one I generally travel.

As I write this, I am in Florida, many miles from home. My father is fighting for his life in a hospital bed, attached to more machines and wires and tubes than I have ever seen in my life. He has at least one, sometimes two nurses in his room at all times. These are highly skilled, incredibly gifted nurses who patiently answer all of our questions and show great compassion while remaining dedicated to what is best for my father. The doctors are Christian men who pray for their patients on a daily basis, which gives us great comfort. Yesterday, things looked bleak. Today we have some hope. My father has shown us he wants to continue this fight and God has shown us His power to heal.  People are praying for dad all over the country and indeed other countries. My husband, step mom and I have perfected a system of showering, rushing to the hospital and trading places so that someone is always near dad.We are afraid to be absent when a signature is required or a change takes place. We have become excellent girl scouts and boy scouts, always prepared, carrying snacks, phone chargers and notes in our bags. We have developed a phone triage to keep all our friends and family updated. We are "recovery" warriors. Except this doesn't feel like a recovery quite yet. The expected "recovery" would've seen dad home by now, resting and, well...............recovering. But he's still fighting. The doctor said his body is under the most stress it has ever experienced in it's life of 71 years.

I am sitting at dad's computer, in dad's bedroom, in dad's house and I feel as if this is happening to someone else. This can't be right because dad isn't here. He isn't telling his jokes or reciting trivia.  I'm in sunny Florida, but I cannot appreciate or enjoy it. I can't go to the beach, or go shopping or enjoy my favorite seafood haunt down here because it would feel inappropriate. Those are happy things and I am not happy to be here. I no longer love Florida. I wish I were back home going about my daily routine and my father were here in his home "recovering". Until that wish is granted I will continue to whisper encouragement in my father's ears and I will continue to pray................

Honor thy father

Early tomorrow morning, my father will be wheeled into an operating room, his chest will be opened up and his heart  will be exposed. His physical heart. He's been through this twice before but this time he is older, sicker and the risk is much greater. And while this scene plays out, my heart is aching. My emotional heart. We are separated by hundreds of miles and our only connection is a telephone in my stepmother's hand.  When I heard of this approaching surgery, I wanted to be on the next available flight to my father's side. But he asked that I stay at home where I could pray and wait for a phone call.I am certain there have been many times in my life when I have chosen not to honor my father or his request, but this time I will do so. I don't want to honor his request. I don't want to wait for that precious phone call. I want to be near him, where I can do nothing to help and nothing to change the situation. I know this but "there" is still where I desire to be. I am sure my father's surgeon is top notch and I am confident he will work to the best of his ability as he does for all his patients. I  understand that a surgeon's job is to know his patient with regard to health, to know what his own limitations and talents as a doctor are, with regard to that health. But does he know that the man he will be operating on is someones husband and father and grandfather? Does he understand that his patient is not just someones father, but MY father? Does he know that if things don't go well, a huge void will be left in my life?  Does he know that my father is all I have left of my childhood? When my father is gone from this Earth,there will be no one else to  remember my childhood except me. My mother died much too young and my siblings choose not to have contact with our family. So it's just me and dad and our memories. I'm not ready to cling to those memories all alone just yet. 

I suppose I was always a bit of a "daddy's girl". Maybe it was because my mother and I didn't have a very good relationship or maybe it was just destined. It's entirely possible my father  doesn't even know I consider myself to be "daddy's girl"?!! But  I've always known. When I think back to my childhood, my teens and even adulthood, it's always the memories with my dad that come to mind. He's the one who taught me to ride my bike, drive a car and balance a checkbook. He's the one who taught me to love yard work, picnics, camping and walks in the woods. He's the one who walked me down the aisle. And when I came back to him, he walked me down the aisle a second time and made me promise not to return!! He's the one I get my sense of humor from.

He and I have much in common. It's always been that way. We both love to read, write and talk. We are both poor listeners because we have far too much to say. We both enjoy getting  in a car to drive aimlessly, discovering new places. He and I are very orderly and organized. We each have a "manager" personality as we have been reminded more than once! We both have diabetes. We both sprinkle sugar on our chili ( hence, the diabetes?) And we both love my stepmother, his wife. (She is entitled to a post all her own)

Despite all of our similarities and all of our memories, I had never heard my father say he loved me. I know he loves me but I'd never heard him say it out loud. It was just something we never said in our family, it was always assumed. The last time I spoke to my dad, a couple of days ago, I took that giant leap. I put my heart out there and risked pain or disappointment. Just before I hung up, I  softly said " I love you dad". He softly said " I love you too"!! One more memory to cling to together.......

I believe in God. And I am trusting him to watch over my father and his exposed heart tomorrow. And I am trusting him to watch over mine. I love you dad.

I recently turned 50. It happened. It finally happened. And I am not sure how I feel about it,not that it makes any difference. It’s not as if I could stop it or turn back the clock. I’ve known for most my life that it was coming and it did. No parade, no fireworks, no memorial. The page on the calendar just changed and I was 50. I don’t feel any different, I don’t look any different, but somehow everything has changed. I am a 50 year old woman.I have outlived my mother. I’m no longer a young woman but I’m not yet a senior citizen either. I’m stuck in that place, somewhere in between. I don’t have toddlers anymore but I don’t have an empty nest quite yet either. And I can’t figure out what comes next. Don’t misunderstand. I’m not really one of “those” women, who are hung up on getting old. I believe aging gracefully can be something very beautiful. But I am a little afraid. Of the future. Of poor health. Of dying. My father once said he “wasn’t afraid of being dead, just of dying” and I get that. I’m afraid of dying and turning 50 has deepened that fear. I’m 50 now. Did I mention that? More than half my life is over. Probably a lot more than half my life is over. Where is the stop button? I want off this merry go round. I want a different ride. I want to put on the brakes.I want to start over. I want to turn back time and do almost everything over, differently. I want to be thin and healthy. I want to be soft spoken and graceful. I want to be the Godly woman I was meant to be when I was created. I want to have been married to my husband since high school. I want to have no regrets. I want to be able to say I did everything “right”.  I want my children to worship and respect me and be grateful for the wonderful way I raised them, always selflessly and wisely. I want to have been in the same career for the same employer my entire life. I want to be able to hold my husband’s hand and reminisce about the life we’ve built together since high school. I want my life to be an open book for all to read, knowing it is above reproach.

     But we don’t always get what we want. We get what God wants for us. Better still, what we really get is exactly what we choose for ourselves. And since I didn’t choose to believe in God’s love until I was in my 40’s, I didn’t choose very good things sometimes. 
     Here’s what I know about being 50. I have children. I have grandchildren. I have aging parents and in laws. I have lost people that I loved. I have 50 years of memories and experiences to treasure.  And I have wrinkles. I have pain. And I am tired. And I feel as if I am running out of time. I have to make the rest of my years count. I have to fix what isn’t right and I have to maintain what is. I have to eat better and sleep more. I have to lose weight and exercize more. I have to love more and complain less. And I have to hurry because I am 50 and I have lived more than half my life already. Maybe I am hung up on getting old. Maybe I am one of “those” women.