Meet My Grandfather

Week 21

Tomorrow is Memorial Day. For as long as I can remember, this holiday has reminded me of my grandfather. Granddaddy was a bomber pilot in WWII. He flew a B-17. Though he didn’t die in the war, it is a day I pause to pay my respects to him. He would have died in an instant to protect his country, his crew, and his loved ones back home. He was the epitome of a good military man.

He was a wonderful man made of the sternest stock. Of all the men I have ever looked up to in my life, he is the man I have most admired. He demanded more from me than I often thought I had to give. I realize now that he taught me the meanings of determination and perseverance by his examples.

Due to circumstances beyond his control he was forced to drop-out of high school. He continued up the ladder of his distinguished military career until he reached the rank of Lt. Colonel. When he retired, he continued working at the Air Force Base as a civilian. He wrote text books for pilot training. He went to night school and got his GED. His thirst for knowledge and a desire to finish something he had sworn to himself he would do, led him to enrolling at the local junior college.

Granddaddy was a kind and gentle man. But, Lord, help you if you truly made him mad. I made him mad twice in my life. One of them resulted in the whipping of a lifetime when he took a cast iron frying pan to my posterior. Neither of the times I angered him was exactly fair, as I was not guilty in either instance. He was a hard man, but he was fair. He taught me the meaning of humility and contrition as he awkwardly stroked my hair while apologizing for not finding out the facts before acting. He never apologized for the whipping though. I can assure you the lessons I learned from him have stuck with me all my days since.

It Seems

Week 20

Nothing is ever quite what it seems.

It all stays the same;
But is never the same.
Constantly changing
Frequently unchanged.

Nothing is ever at all what it seems.

Mother's Day 2013

Week 19


How to describe American commercialism in three easy lessons: Valentine’s Day covers February then a lull in the retail-after-Christmas-before-tax returns-slump. Next comes Mother’s Day in May and then Father’s Day for June.

I have always felt like we should tell those who mean the most to us that we love them all the time. That we shouldn’t wait for “holidays” to tell us to tell them how we feel. Valentine's Day is a crock of junk and I have never REALLY known a father so, you are really what comes to my mind when thinking of this particular trilogy.

Here I sit, subject to the calendar… a prisoner of timelines… ever waiting for the latest test results, ever waiting for a new prognosis. I am guilted, by society, into telling you that I love you, on this the magical day, somebody in the retail world invented.

I DO love you. I always have. You are my mother. You are the woman who loved me before I was born. You are the woman who carried me for nine long months, who gave me life. You are the woman who cried for me when the world seemed darkest for me. You are the woman who has always felt my pain, and too frequently, tried to absorb it, to lessen that which I would have to endure. You are one of the greatest gifts that life has given me because I have never doubted your love for me.

Mama, I have always known you tried your very best to be the best mother you could be. I know that you have always wanted what was best for me. I have ALWAYS known you love me. And I have always known I had a friend in you. What you have termed as pushing you and others away, is truly a matter of self-preservation from birth. I never meant to offend. In fact, I have only sought to spread peace and love wherever my path has crossed. But in every moment, I have known that if I needed you, you would have my back.

I love you, Mama. I want you to know that I see everyday with you in my life as Mother's Day!

Oh My!

Week 18



You wake up one morning to realize that various body parts did not wake up with you. As you attempt to move, bits and pieces are assaulted by the tingling of blood rushing to parts that obviously had their supply cut off while you were sleeping.

Your bladder feels as if you will explode if you don’t hurry, even though it seems like you were up ten times during the night with the same sense of urgency. Rising from the bed, you hear creaks, groans, pops and cracks as your joints awaken and protest against your movements.

As you brush your teeth, you notice the bags under your eyes. Rinsing, you smile at your reflection and notice the wrinkles that appear around your eyes, beside your mouth, in your forehead. You toss the towel at the shower rod in disgust. You miss. You bend down to retrieve it and a hand goes to the small of your back as you straighten.

The days of jumping out of bed and rushing headlong against the world have passed. Suddenly life has become a series of aches and pains and age, oh my!

Serendipitous Kind of Day

Week 17


Three times today I have encountered a word I seldom hear used but have always loved. I love the way it gently rolls off the tongue when I say it. I love the way it trills along when I hear it spoken. I opened my horoscope before I even climbed out of bed this morning. It began, “Your impulsive behavior is making you more open to serendipity…”

Now, I am the first to admit that I do tend to be impulsive but I can’t imagine how that could make me more open to serendipity. The very definition of the word is, “A happy accident or pleasant surprise”. With a shake of my head, I climbed out of bed and began my day.

Driving home from Ms. I listened to an audio book (I listen to them constantly while travelling back and forth now). I was startled to hear the author read the words, “Darling, you simply must open yourself up so that you will be prepared when serendipity comes calling!” I actually went back and listened to it a second time.

A few hours later, while listening to the radio in the background, I chuckled over a skit they were performing until I heard the punchline, “Blame it on serendipity.”

I am sitting here wondering what it all could possibly mean when it suddenly occurs to me that it could simply mean that I might receive the pleasant surprise of having a reason to use the word serendipity repeatedly. I came home to a wondrously clean house. That was definitely a pleasant surprise. Or maybe, there is a different sort of pleasant surprise awaiting me. Regardless, I have decided it is a serendipitous kind of day!

It's The New Normal

Week 16

For the last two weeks, I have not taken my regular trips to Ms. I have been at home in Fl. What an odd time it has been. The bombing of the Boston Marathon and the events that led to the capture of two people. Packing and worrying, babysitting and working, and relaxing every chance I got. It felt terribly decadent.

I needed the break, such as it was, but now it's time to get back to my routine. It's time to go back to the new normal. It's time to take care of Mama.

Sorting Through Memories

Week 15

I find the tasks I am currently working on at home quite daunting. It is so difficult to sort through the remains of another person’s life. It feels like you are invading their privacy as you look at their photographs, read through cards and letters, and sift through keepsakes mostly from places you may have never heard of and certainly have never been.

Sometimes I feel like I’m throwing away too much. At others, it feels like I need to throw away more. I don’t know why it bothers me so much. I just know that it does, even though it certainly doesn’t seem to bother anyone else in the family. I have asked and asked everyone to tell me what they want from the house with very little response from any of them. Left to do it on my own seems to make it more difficult to decide what goes with us and what is disposed of.

I have come to the conclusion that the majority will go to be sorted and dealt with after we are gone from here. I catch myself pausing in my tasks to let the memories of them wash over me; Mom and Dad… my in-laws… my friends. When I’m in a place where I’m not so distracted with my own memories, maybe I’ll find it easier to let go.
But for now, I have memories to sort through, boxes to pack and a house to get ready to leave behind. You never know what tomorrow will bring.