Author in Progress

 

It has been awhile since I've visited my little corner of the world here. I have been writing though. . . 90,106 words to be exact! Mid September an idea for a story was born at the cemetery of all places, while I was visiting my mom. I dutifully wrote 1,000+ words a day/three days a week until I had a complete manuscript I've named, The Cemetery Club. While it is a story about finding hope in the unlikeliest of places, it brought me hope during a difficult time. I firmly believe I sleptwalked through year one after losing my mom and brother twenty-four days apart. Simply writing twenty-four days does something to my heart. I still find it unbelieveable that I am living life without two of the largest personalities in my family. 

Year two feels more real, more raw. There is this realization that they are not coming back and getting lost in writing a fictional story helped me through the dark days. Stepping into my characters shoes and wiritng their stories gave me hope in living my own. Once upon a time, a really long time ago, I wanted to be a writer. I was even a Communications major before all the self doubt creeped in and I chose a safer option: a teacher. It is a noble profession, but not the dream I wore since childhood. I found ways to incorporate my passion for books and writing with my students, but I buried the dream I had for myself. In a world of many voices and storytellers, I let myself believe that mine wasn't good enough.

Something happened when I lost my mom and brother. All of a sudden the reality of the fragility of life was staring me in the face. Both my mom and brother lived their lives in a way that was bold and loud. They pursued their dreams. They didn't play it safe like I did. And suddenly, I craved that for my own life. I commited to myself to write the story. I am receiving coaching from a reputable, successful author.  I will be published. My mom and brother may not be here, but their untold stories will be my inspiration. In following my own childhood dream, perhaps I'll heal the parts of me that are broken as well. 

Stories are best when shared. I am grateful for the opportunity to share mine with you.

Easter 2023

He is risen! Stay risen!

It's in the darkest hour when your thoughts catch up with you. I've been awake since three am. I didn't even try to go back to sleep. Instead, I've been reading these snippets of a life that seems forever ago. I hope one day these blog posts serve as a reminder to my kids of the good life we have been fortunate enough to live.  Maybe it is in this season of mourning that these memories are especially comforting. They remind me,  that was before. This is now.

We just celebrated our first Easter without my mom and brother. To be honest, we have not typically celebrated Easter together since my parent's divorce five years ago so it didn't feel  that  different. I remember the first Easter after they separated and knew being together would be too hard for us, so we began to visit and stay with E's family out of state. It was the one holiday, I told my Mom we had to have with his family. She understood. This year we actually were on a camp trip to wind down multiple conflicting spring breaks. It was good for my senses to be out in nature. I love the beach. My brother loved the beach too. My mom, not so much. . .but she was a good sport about it. The sunrises and sunsets were painted masterpieces across the sky that I needed to see: God's glory in full effect during Holy Week.

We went to church later than usual. We ate dinner with my Dad and Anthony, texted with our oldest and his wife. Lene and I visited Uncle Craig because I know my Mom would have. I missed seeing all the cousins together, but I was right where I needed to be. I'm in a season that needs to figure out what I need. I am missing the people who I shared the most life with. I am giving myself permission to be where I need to be. I am giving myself permission to be who I need to be. I am asking questions that need to be asked as I'm on the rounding up to fifty spectrum. We are making plans just in case, because. . .we've experienced tragedy and then tragedy again. We can never be too prepared.

It's four am. I go to the gym at 5:30. I work at 7:45. In this quiet moment, thoughts of my past bring me comfort and joy. Grief is lonely, even when you are blessed with the most incredible friends, you feel alone in your struggles. Grief and joy, such conflicting emotions as a son readies to turn 18 and graduate. Life keeps moving forward. Ready or not. What is it I want most? Where do I want to go? How do I want to live? These are the questions my three am brain yearns to answer. This post is all over the place. . .kind of like my sleepy three am brain, I guess.

Easter 2023

Uncle Craig: Easter 2023

For Such a Time as This

Cocooning is a natural part of grieving for me. Pulling in my immediate family within the confines of my four walls, loving on them, leaning with them, all of us learning to do life in a way that is drastically different. The noise of the outside world too chaotic at times for me to partake. I know I need to preserve my energy and plan days with nothing but white around the edges. A long time ago, when all the kids were younger, balance felt so hard. Now it feels as normal as breathing. Yes, if I want to; No, if I don't. There are no apologies for this season of rest. Focusing on my mental and physical health is a necessity for such a time as this.

Putting up boundaries, no longer putting out fires, simply cherishing the every day life that we are blessed to live is my present. The truth is, when it is all said and done, your immediate family is all that you have. Luckily for me, we have poured in to each other and we are open to the shifting seasons. With an adult son grown, two in college, and one about to start, it makes sense to be available when they are, to make plans with them in it and to simply be together. Everyone's schedule is different now. We have jobs and school, but sitting around the table and story telling is important enought that we have reinstated Sunday family dinners. I will often try a recipe from the gazillion my mom collected. The keepers will go in to the family cookbook. The others, I am not afraid to throw away. Memory making one meal at a time. My mom would like this new tradition.

Adventuring has taken on a new meaning as well. We have five trips planned over the next seven months. These trips give something for us to look forward to. They are planned well in advance so the older kids can ask for time off if they want to, but they are small treasure troves of adventuring with which we will make the best new memories regardless of who is there. 

Every day at two pm, my alarm goes off. There is a quote I refer to daily, that reminds me, " That was before. This is now." A lot of days there's a battle going on in my mind for what it used to look and feel like and what it actually does. This little dose of reality calls a truce in my brain. What it was versus what it is. I am learning to accept it.

In a lot of ways, memories of my early childhood with my brother have mostly brought me joy. I mean, there was that one time he called 911 and chased me with a butter knife, but he was my first friend. And although we were opposites like water and oil, there was an unmistakeable protectiveness about him, an annoyance that he always wanted to play with me and my neighborhood friends, an admiration for his ease in talking to all those he met. He was my entire childhood. Good, bad, and everything in between, there is no one that I have that in common with. He is not here to share those stories, to make the new memories as the adults we are now with kids who are growing up. The next chapter was starting and now it's finished before it even began.

There is deep saddness when one realizes that I am the keeper of our childhood stories. There is no longer my person to banter back and forth with ease in the story telling. There is no one who knows the highest of highs and the lowest of lows that were experienced in our childhood home together. My brothers take on the entirety of our growing up years is just gone. That alone makes me want to write our Durango Dukes adventures to share with a new generation. Perhaps my next chapter will include that. Not sure. I'm simply journaling through this experience of loss. Healing my heart, one post at a time.

I Remember When. . .(a List)

My brother John Michael and I did a newscast from our road trip. 

My dad recorded us with that huge camera and bag he had to carry around.

My Nana died and my parents left for Vegas. I remember sitting in their bed that night watching Beverly Hills 90210 with both my brothers.

My mom threw me an awesome sleepover complete with a scavenger hunt, and I was a major moody jerk to her.

One of our camptrips ended in a major rainstorm.

My Uncle Barney put me on his shoulders to pick fruit from his back yard.

My youngest brother was born. My Grandma stood in the corner crying and praying.

My Mom stayed with me during labor with our first. She sent everyone off to dinner so I could have some peace.

I remember when I pushed for a Cinco de Mayo celebration at my parent's house. My Mom did everything: decorated, cooked all the food, and I ended up sick in their bathroom and had to go home with the flu.

My Mom would come in to my school as a child, and then my classroom as an adult to give her yearly dental talks.

My dad would pick me up from school in the big, white, florist van.

A car crashed into our backyard.

I had my bachelorette party and my brother's girlfriend wasn't twenty-one yet. We went to the coolest Italian place with a pianist and the sweetest people!

My mom and I went parasailing in Hawaii.

My brother would play Barbies with me and the neighbor girls.

A Lesson I learned the Hard Way

A lesson I've learned the hard way is that you may not have the time you think you do with the people you love. I watched it happen in other families, someone died suddenly, but I never really understood the gravity of that statement until it touched me directly in such a devastating way. To have this type of loss so close together has been life changing. Losing my mom and brother so quickly left absolutely no time for the type of good byes or acceptance I had, I guess, imagined. To lose a mom and brother twenty-four days apart in such tragic ways has changed how I look at life. It has caused regrets. My mom always talked of having none...but I wonder how that is, because gosh I sure have them!

I am learning to say yes more often.  

I am learning to make the effort, do the thing, love the people.

I am learning to ask the questions, have the conversations, make the peace.

I am learning that there really are no do overs.

I am learning that all that petty stuff never mattered.

I am learning that God's plans make no sense to me, but He is going to make them regardless.

I am learning to let people be who they are and love them regardless.

I am learning that self preservation is okay and protecting my peace is crucial.

I am learning to do better.

I am learning to be better.

John Michael

Grief has this way of sneaking up on you. There is nothing linear about it. In the weeks after I started taking baby steps out in to the world again, I would find myself confused by the world around me. How did it go on? Didn't anyone know I just lost my Mom? I was viewing all things through glass. Nothing was clear. I wasn't an active participant. In the days following her funeral, my body was depleted. She gave out on me and I finally let myself succumb to the sickness and all I wanted was for her white Prius to pull up with a home made soup delivery. It didn't matter what kind, all of her soups were winners, and I never took the time to learn how. I always assumed we had more time. . .and then we didn't.

My birthday was six days after she passed away. I woke up to the smell of smoke which I automatically assumed was her barbecue. It flickered comfort for a second. I also hadn't listened to my voice mails, hoping I had one of her singing Happy Birthday to me. I always tried to answer those calls. If she wasn't the first call of the day, I was disappointed. I had come to expect the woman who brought me into the world, would also sing and welcome me to the gift of another year first and foremost. I cried my eyes out when the very first message I played was her singing. While family and friends showed up that night to celebrate, it is a blur. 

Twenty-four days later, I would venture out to a friend's house to celebrate with an intimate dinner with five of my friends from church. I had Ernie drop me off that night. Driving took energy I didn't want to waste. I remember I walked through her door, and the candles were lit, the food smelled delicious, the environment was warm and calming. I had an instant feeling of relief instead of anxiety. This felt almost normal. I felt so loved. My friends were arriving. There were hugs and check ins with each other, and then my phone rang. It had barely been a few minutes since I was dropped off, but my husband was calling, so I answered it.

He told me that he didn't want me to worry, and immediately my heart dropped. My voice raised. My friend's voices got quiet as everyone watched me. I remember that clearly. I think someone put their hands on my back. All I know is my hands were on my mouth, as my husband told me my 44-year-old brother who had taken his boys on a hunting trip had been in an accident. I was trying to remember to breathe. I wanted to go home, but he told me I was in the best place and to stay and pray. We did. I remember clearly thinking, "There is no way God would do this to my family." I then called my sister in law who was crying, but who also told me my brother was moving and talking, and I know I felt some peace. He was going to be okay. I just knew it. We sat around the table, I tried to eat. We talked a bit...about what I can not even remember. But then the hosts face changed as she noticed someone coming up to the door. She asked if we were expecting anyone.

It was my husband, and I knew in my heart before he even said, "We had to go." I don't remember if I crumpled under the weight of his words, but even today it still feels like it, so I expect I did. I could not cry. My friends cried for me. I could not breathe. I fell apart. I could not comprehend that this could even happen. How in only twenty-four days did my life as I knew it, cease to exist?  My brother, my first friend.  Polar opposites, but the only one who shared our growing up experience with me. Simply gone.

Happy, Heart-Filled Home

You know the days that are so full to the brim of splendid?  I think I just experienced one of them.  Helping in both kid's classrooms, trekking to the doctors for a mysterious rash on a daughter, a play date/lunch with a friend who catered to our hungry tummies and opened her home to us. . .Not even the tantrum that followed when it was time to leave, cast a shadow of gray upon the stay.  She was fast asleep by the time we reached home. . and soon kids raced home to do homework and their Daily Ten list before they could go out and play. . .Overheard in the bathroom, as I actually sat in my sacred place with a book in hand, contemplating whether or not I would go to book club tonight:  "We might as well clean the shower while we are at it."  They happily, eagerly, helped this mama out and went above and beyond their "chore" list.  I felt so happy.

A brother stopped by to pick up the dogs that were visiting in the yard.  His visit was brief but he did help out the fourth grader with a rounding worksheet that I was getting frustrated over.  He saved the day.  God sent him at just the right time to intervene and my warm, happy, fuzzy feeling was not lost.  Did I mention an hour and a half wait at the doctors, or a temper tantrum by the three -year-old?

Dinner was simple: prepared while on the phone talking to my best friend, about our daily happenings.  Earlier that morning, I text her to let her know we had prayed for her daughter who was having teeth pulled that day.  A sweet text message followed and now we were checking in.  Two moms, two friends.  Blessed.  A dinner together, where we talked life and love and all things in between.  We focused on Way number 1:  Loving our Lord with whole hearted devotion.  Thank you Clay Clarkson for the plan--now I pray we really strive to implement it into our nightly routine.

Cookies were placed in the oven for dessert and I made the call to stay home: to inhale their loveliness, this peaceful space of home.  I praised God that even in the chaos of the day, I was constantly looking for the joy.  I kept it together, calm, cool, collected.  Focused and intentional.  All that remains tonight is a read aloud--we're aiming for two chapters while the kids inhale their fresh from the oven cookies.  I love today.  I love its simpleness. I love its splendor.  I love that I am here to live it with these people who matter most to me. 

Today was a very good day.

The Story of Someone Special

Once upon a time, twenty-five years ago, my life was forever changed.  I became the proud, big sister of a little brother named Alan Leo.  From the start, he was my world.  Long gone were my doll days as I had a real, live, baby to help take care of.  I did it without expectation, without being asked.  I did it because from the moment I laid eyes on him. . .my thirteen-year-old self was changed.

His life has been a part of my story from the beginning.  Often I babysat, cared for him, dragged him to places with friends, and I became the person who picked him up from preschool and later helped in his kindergarten classroom.  I got my first teaching job at his school!! We drove to and from work together and he became my constant companion and helper in my classroom. He was my buffer when I suffered my first broken heart, and he was my joy during dark days of loneliness and isolation.  He would spend the night at my house and help me out, keep me company and just be with me.

Poor guy, couldn't even go to high school without dealing with me--I had transferred and low and behold, he was scheduled in my honors English class.  His brother-in-law and dad both worked there too!  It takes quite the kid to be able to handle that many family members intruding on your high school years--but that's the kind of guy Alan has always been--easy-going, a good kid, happy to help and absolutely one of my best friends without a doubt.

Our relationship reached an even new level recently as he experienced life with a new career, new home, and new everyday normal.  Being a part of his transition and seeing the metamorphosis take place has been quite an adventure.  It's not done yet, nor is he in any way absolutely sure of who he is becoming, but it has been an honor to be a part of.  An honor to witness the growth and progress he has made over the past few months.  It has been a joy to see him grow from shattered to sure that who he is at his core--is who God made him to be.  He is stretching and growing and becoming. Our daily text conversations throughout the day leave me smiling and waiting for the next one.

Alan,  my kids are so incredibly blessed to have you in their lives.  Ernie and I are blessed--it's like you are a true extension of our immediate family.  You are a safe place that I trust will breathe life and love into our kids because that is who you are.  You are that person.  You are amazing and you have so much to offer this world!  And I am so excited for what the future holds for you. . .keep growing, keep searching, keep your eyes on the gifts God keeps placing before you! Twenty-five was a life changer for me. I'm hoping and praying it is that kind of gift for you as well.

I love you immensely.  Happy birthday little brother.  May birthday blessings abound!!