Excited!

In just one week my sweet man and I will be getting on a plane and headed for Ireland!  He is our trip planner and he usually plans it around our anniversary.  Although he has been known to schedule a few quick getaways for the sake of sanity.

Years ago when our 4 children were young and I was in the throes (-noun.  any violent struggle) of raising the little darlings, when our anniversary rolled around I took on the task of planning the celebration.  Knowing we had to get away to celebrate the very reason for the existence of these children, I began trying to schedule a weekend excursion.  But I wasn't sure what kind of money we had available so I wasn't sure how big or small the merriment could be  - I hated the finances - still do.  I also had to find someone to watch either all the children or I had to find 4 different families where I could farm them out.  Between the planning and the children I was overwhelmed.  I told my sweet husband that if he wanted a get away weekend with the bride of his youth, he was going to have to plan it from now on.  And plan he did!

In that time he has taken this task very seriously.  He loves to surprise me and gives me just enough time to plan the trip and research. On our 28th anniversary he planned a trip that had us flying into San Francisco and driving the Pacific Coast Highway to San Diego.  He arranged the drive so that I was the one closest to the coast. With the window open for days and me leaning towards the shoreline I found myself with one tan arm and one side of my face the color of a hazelnut.

He arranged for us to go to Cancun, the Dominican Republic, Scotland, Italy, a cruise to the Bahamas,  B & B's in the Shenandoah or just a local hotel where we could just be us!  He has always kept our relationship a top priority and has protected it against the subtleties of life that could effectively erode the foundation we stand upon.

To say I am excited to experience Ireland with him would be like saying I was excited about having a million dollar lottery ticket! I am Excited, Emotionally Charged, Curious, Thrilled, Enthusiastic.....well, you get the point! 

Time away. 

With John. 

Heaven on Earth.

His passing

On March 20, 2013 at 9:15pm my father drew his last breath.  If you live long enough, you outlive your parents and that is how it should be. Though it doesn't make it any easier.  Knowing ahead of time, that he had 3 to 8 months to live following his diagnosis of pancreatic cancer, didn't make it any easier either.  It was almost 3 months to the day. Why couldn't the doctors have been like weathermen and been wrong?

Following the diagnosis he began to put things in order.  He wanted to make sure his wife was taken care of and not left to do on her own after his passing.  Sell the house. Pack the house. Find a new place close to her family. Make arrangements.  He did all these things.  And in the nick of time!  But he also did the personal things.  And he gave me some final gifts.

In December his wife called, just weeks after his diagnosis, and told my brothers and I that things had changed and that he said he felt he was dying.  This news came during my workday.  I was behind the chair taking care of my clients hair when she called and said he wanted to speak to me.  I removed myself from the work area and found a quiet place.  My dad came on the phone and in a weak voice told me he felt like he was having an out of body experience...like it was time .... like he was dying.  I told him he couldn't.  That I had tickets for two weeks from then to fly down and see him.  But he quietly said..."I love you Deb.  Tell John I love him too.  Kiss the children and grandchildren for me."  As soon as I hung up the phone I called my husband, told him I was canceling clients for the rest of the week and I needed to be in the car on my way to Florida as soon as possible.  We drove through the night....12 hours of monotonous driving.  Neither of us could sleep.  We drove in fear.  We drove on adrenaline. But when we arrived the next morning...there he was.  "I thought you were dying, " I said.  " I thought I was" he smiled.  "I guess I was wrong." He was wrong and we spent the next 3 months saying goodbye.

He asked me a question when we were alone one evening.  "Deb, do you know what you will be after I die."  "Yes," I said, "an orphan."  He laughed.  "You are 55 years old.  You can't be a orphan at 55. You can if you were 7, but not 55."  "Then what will I be,?" I asked.  "The memory keeper, Deb.  They will come to you for the memories."

When I left the next morning, I knelt down in front of him and told him that I didn't know how to do this.  "How daddy?  How do I do this?  How do I say goodbye to you?"  "You're doing it sweetie.  You'll do it. ".  I hugged him and he told me "I love you.  I'll be praying for you." And with conspiratorial wink he said, "I'll save you a seat."

Three months later his wife called and said that over the past 24 hours he had become unresponsive.  She was going to call the Hospice House and have him moved there.  I agreed it was the best move. But before she moved him I had a request..could I FaceTime with him? She reminded me that he was unresponsive.  I assured her that I didn't care and that I just needed to see his face.  So she gave me my wish and carried her iPad into his room.  She put it so I could see his face...and this face bore only a resemblance to my father.  Sickness and death had stolen the familiar smile and the face I had known for so long.  But, it was my dad...and so I said his name. "Daddy?"  And his eyes opened and he looked directly at me.  Weakness had taken his ability to respond  right away, but his mouth moved and I knew he was acknowledging me.  "Daddy.  I want you to know how much I love you.  But I want you to know that I know you love me too." And then he did the unexpected.  He responded.  In a quiet, quivering whisper of a voice he said "I love you."

In the end, with that sentence and desire to respond to me...his only daughter, he erased all the things he wasn't to me.  He gave me a dying gift.  A gift in March...a month that traditionally
holds no gift bearing holidays.

My grief is a process much like dying.  But I have memories to keep and gifts of my own to give.

Portraits in Chalk

One week ago today we had a surprise snowstorm.  Because of a low pressure system shifting off the coast, this one was hard to predict and snow totals along with a changing rain/snow line became impossible to nail down. I knew one thing for sure!  I needed grand kids here if we had snow! I have one precious girl that lives with me so I asked for the two boy treasures to be able to spend the night.  They are old enough to enjoy the snow and sled with their older cousin. 

The snow fell through the night and when we awoke it was a winter wonderland.  A heavy snow had fallen and left at least six inches of snow and it was still coming down.  Everyone was off work so my sweet man put up a tent in the basement for the kids to have a fort.  And after card games and lunch we went sledding!  And by "we", I mean I watched, took pictures and cheered.  The day ended with shepherds pie, hot chocolate and a movie....just the way snow days should end.

Snow gave way to warmth and we found ourselves thawed out and warmed by 60+ temps.  With those kind of temperatures no one can stay off the golf courses or away from the grill.  Sunday rolled around and the gang showed up at my house.  Fat rolls of chalk came out their boxes and bikes that hadn't seen the light of day since fall rolled out of hibernation. 

The same driveway that had been shoveled into submission, found adults and children  drawing the simple chalk lines that would lead them into spring. 

Bricks that had been covered in snow just days before were now decorated with the colors of a robin's egg and the promise of long days in the sun. 

 

If my memories every leave me, I hope this weeks feast will be a memory that stays.

A signpost

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Not yet old, but no longer young, after the mother and before the crone, she is now a Queen . Still active, creative and passionate, the Queen is tempered with an earned wisdom that has come with her experiences. She has faced and overcome obstacles, limitations and life lessons - now assuming her power and accepting full responsibility for her life, dreams, fulfillment and happiness. She is the Queen of herself, the mature monarch, the sole sovereign of her own destiny.
(Queen Mama Donna Henes - The Queen of MY Self)

The fire still burns

 

I haven't written on this blog in a long time.  It doesn't mean that I haven't written at all, but I have been apprehensive about sharing here.  But it does not mean that I don't write.  Besides the ongoing story lines that run through my head, like a manic marathon training event, I have been journaling.  A safe haven for the deep thoughts that have been tumbling about my subconcious.

 

Last summer I had such wonderful adventures that I wanted to share.  Pictures of our journeys with kids and g'kids.  But I couldn't make myself type

one.

 

single.

 

word. 

 

But a dam has broke and the fire that has been burning within has been stoked and I want to do what feeds my soul and makes my heart happy.

Write.

Jot.

Muse.

Ponder.

Express.

I have something to say and want to say it here.  The place I created for myself.  A room of my own, so to speak.

Itty Bitty Scavenger Hunt

Our first foray this summer is not really a "first"-- for us.  Is is our second year to participate in an activity created  specifically to draw people to the historic district of downtown Fredericksburg, VA and is called the Itty Bitty City.  Pictures of objects are taken within a specified grid of the downtown area and posted in the paper.  The general public head to the streets from May to July in search of these familiar and slightly hidden items.

The city only yields these sought after treasures to the keen eyes of the diligent.  But, lest you think this is a drudgery, let me tell you that every person we met on this quest had a child-like nature that carried them along.  You could spot them easily by the crumpled and well worn newspaper clutched in their hands and a look of expectation on their faces.

My husband and I decided to include some of the oldest grandchildren in our city's game of hide and seek.  Their shorter legs helped us keep the journey to a slower pace and their delight in spying and finding what we were looking for was motivating.  I do have a confession though....the shorter legs on a large grid did lead to some frustration and  no amount of ice cream could bolster their initial eagerness.  So, my husband and I would go out a day or two before and find the sought after treasures and then gently.....and indiscreetly.... direct our young helpers in the right direction.

Each time we ventured out to the city, we found something besides the items we were looking for.  Down a side street I found a brick building that bore the inscription of our local hospital.  Compared to the existing facility, that is sprawled over several acres of land, this scaled down version was reflective of a time when our area was much smaller in population and size.  I wonder if the tenants in this former hospital, now converted into apartments, knows that their dwelling is a part of local history?

Our tribe of seekers took three consecutive Monday evenings to find all 20 of the objects and when the last one was discovered....we celebrated as if we had won a Superbowl.    The creator of this city's hide and seek did a great job this year!  She kept us hunting and learning.  But we enjoyed the journey as much as the discovery.  We met new people who left their air-conditioned home and their every day routine and became a part of an  adventure.  We came together as a family unity and worked together as a team.

And our reward was just what we had hoped for....we got to know our city a little bit more as tourists and not just as residents..........and we held the hands of our grandchildren....our legacy...a little longer.

http://fredericksburg.com/News/ittybittycity/IttyBittyHEADER_690x150.jpg

Summertime

A place of refuge

I am always so excited when summer makes its way back around.  It's the school girl rush of feelings that hark back to the days when summer meant a release from the drudgery of forced early morning rising and the repetition of multiplication problems.
It must be muscle memory that causes me to drag out my stored bike and polish it up, oil the moving parts and ready the basket for treasures to be found.
I yearn to be outside on sunny days.  Lounging by a pool or, better yet, sitting at the beach watching the sun light up the water with diamonds and the sounds of children's laughter as the musical score.
But I am long past my childhood summers and the days that knit the seasons together do not look much different from each other.  Usually our summers hold the promise of a week long respite from our daily life.  The King and I (not to be confused with the movie) are not ones for doing the usual, so we have decided to become tourists of our own land.  To trounce around our own city and state and become better acquainted with the unique features that have been waiting for us since our arrival here 27 years ago.  Weekend vacations that help us carve out the time to just us and open our eyes to the state made for Lovers.