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.

Dear Mom

 Dear Mom,

You're my mom and I love you so much. True. You're my mom and I know you loved me so much. True. But it's the every day "you" stuff that I miss so dang badly. The way when you called or I called you, your opening liner was generally the same, "What do you know?" It always had a sing-songy cadence to it. I wish I appreciated the way you gave a play by play of your day to me. God, you always accomplished so much! Sometimes it was annoying to hear who you helped or how you helped because honestly, it made me reflect on myself and whether I was using my God given gifts to serve like you were. A lot of days I needed your help carting four kids around or cheering from the sidelines. Anything I needed to do, you were always willing. Urgent care? You would take me. Target? You'd go for me. A museum iwth the kids? Why not? You were always ready for anything!

If myself or the kids needed anything at all, most times you had it. If you didn't have it, you went out and found it. You loved a good challenge! How many whirly-pop things did you actually find for people at the thrift stores? You were so damn generous! You were such a thoughtful, quality human being that it physically hurts that you are not still here. We never recorded your answers to that book you went through with Grandma and Grandpa and transcribed. I know the ins and outs of their lives, but never took enough time to lean in, listen, and learn about yours. That hurts my heart. I don't know how to parent adult children yet. I still need you, yet you're gone. In an instant, you were gone from this life and living in eternal life. 

To add to the pain, John Michael isn't here to make inappropriate jokes and make me laugh through my tears or recall memories of our childhood together. Everything in my world got so much harder October.  1st and even harder on October 25th. To be honest, I can't even ask God, why? Because all I hear in my head from Maria's podcast is your voice saying, "Why not me?" I know better than to question God's plan. I do. I know for certain, one day we will be together again. I do. But today? Today I miss seeing your white Prius pull up at the curb, calling me to run out for some random drop off you were bringing me. Today without you, sick at home, I miss your homemade soups. I don't think you ever made a single one that I didn't like and I haven't found a single recipe for one. 

Today and every day since you've been gone, I miss you. 

Love you forever; Miss you for always.

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.

Papa

Our papa may have been a man of few words, but his life was a living example to us.  He was a doer by nature. He was  a hard worker both on the job and at home.   

He was busy doing dishes, or sweeping floors, doing yardwork, piddling away in the garage, or taking us out on cardboard hunts. The station wagon, a back yard perfect to get lost in, and a bar with slippery floors for spinning were a kid’s delight.  Growing up, his bark was way bigger than his bite. He teased us, he gave heavy handed birthday spankings and if you passed by him too closely, you might get a, “skeetz. . .”  

Papa was present in all the moments that mattered most to us.  I remember fondly the day I gave birth to Anjalene, his first great grand-daughter, named in part for his love, Angela.  He sat in the waiting room until after midnight to welcome her into this world. And my brothers would agree, he was at birthday parties, games, confirmations, graduations, weddings, and births until his knees started slowing  him down.  Alan and I will always have the memory of vacationing in Hawaii with him.  Seeing Pearl Harbor after years of hearing his war stories was a moment we won’t soon forget. There were always stories of serving in Italy with John Wayne told time after time. Papa’s love of westerns ran deep and were often playing when we stopped by for a visit. It was easy to get lost in a “shoot em up cowboy” movie with him. 

But in the end, it wasn’t Papa’s service that made him one of the bravest men we knew. At 91, he  willingly and confidently stared death eye to eye day in and day out over the last couple of years.  Bravery became waking up each day and still being here, despite a set of knees that were becoming increasingly uncooperative and were limiting his ability to get out and socialize. To be brave is to confidently know where we are going when this life is over, palms uplifted, to offer ourselves as the sacrifice.  That is bravery.  And there he was, glasses on, prayer book in place, rosary in hands: praying.  His very life had become a living prayer.

His body ached and the only thing that probably brought any type of real joy to his confined life the last four months was the hope of heaven.   We didn't see fear when we looked into his eyes. There was  a peace about him because he knew what awaits.  He knew there would be a grand reception and his soul would be set free from the body that was failing him in his old age.   He was ready.  He wanted to be called home.  He wanted God to usher him into the promised land. 

So from bed, he prayed diligently.  He prayed with a steadfastness and conviction that only comes from knowing and believing in our God.  He didn’t fear his death.  He welcomed it.  And that brings us comfort. . . that God would guide papa to the ultimate peace, the peace we have looked for our entire lives, but could not be found until our final moment on this earth.  His homecoming, surrounded by all of our love and prayers, was a beautiful moment.

The last words he spoke to me mid-week when I asked, “How are you?” was his traditional response, only this time whispered, “Still here.”  It was in that moment that his answer became the window into his soul.  He had poured into our lives in his own silent, strong way since the day of our births.  The power and depth of his words weren’t lost on me.  He will always be here, in our hearts for as long as we live and his legacy will be his love.

River Rafting Adventure: July 2018

 Kern River was quite the experience this summer. I sure am glad my friend has a bucket list from which plan our adventures together. Carving the time that works with five teenager's schedules is mind boggling, but I'm so glad we made it happen. . .even if I never need to raft again.

While we stayed in the raft through the rapids, our friends weren't so lucky and that was a scary experience. So happy no one was hurt and everyone worked together to get people out of the water--but still terrifying in the moment!  I can't even imagine if it was my littles flowing downstream in their life jackets!! Thankfully, it wasn't and all is well that ends well!

 Snapped one family picture before we headed home. 

 Mom and Bubba on the balcony. We were waiting for night to fall to see the "Bat Show."

 I always tell the kids to check out the masterpieces God creates as the sun sets. Sitting on the deck, with the sound of the river flowing, surrounded by majestic skies was no exception.

 I love that these sisters both wanted me to braid their hair and then sat together watching something. Sisters.

 Hiked up to Slide Rock. I only fell twice and we were met with this natural slide. Jonathan saw a snake in the water. I think they were crazy to go in, but they did. So I captured the moment from a rock not in the water. Snakes scare me.

 Janessa slept in the cutest teepee ever up in the loft. We all fit. That's how big it was!

 Daddy Daughter Time

 Plenty of time for kids when you're away from the hustle and bustle of schedules!

 Our backyard

 The river was flowing. So much so, in fact I was nervous for my Nessa Bessa. 

 Road tripping to see the sites!

 Big trees to explore at Trail of 100 Giants!

End of the School Year Festivities

 It's hard to get so behind in my blogging.  These posts are my yearly photo album and with our smart phone cameras, capturing every little thing--I became overwhelmed with the documenting part.  So in a nutshell, these pictures all took place end of May 2017 to first days of summer in June. After a very rocky start for our Nessa Bessa, first grade ended successfully. She loved her teacher and she did well academically. This little girl has  heart for kindness, seeking out the lonely and bringing people together.

 These eighth grade girls are growing up into beautiful young ladies. It's so weird to drop them off and let them test out their independence slowly but surely. Giving them wings to fly but wanting them tethered close at the same time...awe, motherhood. Sweet, sweet motherhood!

 I finally got to go back to the horse races for a date day. What a nostalgic trip. It reminded me so much of the days there with my grandparents! Everything was more expensive, and gone was the day of betting with someone else's money...but for a second, I remembered that childhood joy that the horse races brought me.

 Memorial Day Ernie worked, but his side of the family planned a big barbecue at the beach. It was a lot of fun for the kids.  I loved watching them play catch and build sand castles with their cousins that they do not see nearly enough.

 Field trips were fun this year. I got to be a chaperone at every single one. I will always remember these days. Staying home and having the opportunity to be a part of my kids' lives has been life changing. This is and always would have been enough.

 International Day was an awesome compilation of dances all over the world. Our little hula dancer was my favorite!

 We went with our framily to Universal Studios.  It had been years for me!  This was another fun firsts with the not so little kids. Outings like this are so much easier now that they are grown--more expensive, but easier.

 Anthony was confirmed and made his first communion.  Ernie was his sponsor. So very proud of his commitmment to the Lord and living with integrity.  God has gifted us his presence in this home the last 4 years. Hard to believe college is looming in the near distance. . .

 And our beautiful Lene Bean is off to high school. Middle school was a breeze until a friend hiccup this year, but she handled herself with grace and was kind anyways. I am so proud of her heart and can't wait to see her amazing accomplishments in high school!

 Godly and gifted. That's our girl!

 Proud Parents

Summer months are here. Bring on the fun!

A Marriage in May. . .

Flower girl ready

My favorite every day of the year.

Quick Family Pic

My little brother is a married man!

His biggest cheerleaders

Time to catch the garter.  My cute nephews in the front.

A girl and her Nino.

Jonathan and Livvy

Josh and Janessa

Our little loves

Lene Bean and the gorgeous bride

The wedding of Alan and Bianca was a beautiful one.  It might be one of my most favorite to date because the kids were invited and played a part in the day's festivities.  They were all dressed up and so happy for their uncle and new aunt.  Hard to believe my little brother is a man. A father first, then husband. I still see his crazy curly hair at three years old.  His slicked back hair in fourth, his silver chain in ninth, and crazy afro in 11th.  So much growing up through the years and now he is on the next chapter.  Wishing many years of health and happiness with a genuine partnership between the two of them.  May weddings are pretty fantastic!