What to remember and what to forget

I'm a girl of details. I need a plan, I need to see what the objective is, and see a detailed course of action on how it is to be completed. Success is in the little details, that combined create the whole of what is to be complete. If I picture a room that I want to decorate, I see it in my head and then I go on a mission to procure every little detail of that room until is a complete representation of what I pictured. I am always striving to remember the details. Remember recipes, movie lines, my kids PR times, the Blackhawks season record, what my Momma's favorite movie was, the color of her hair and the sound of her voice, every car my dad restored, when to get my oil changed, who needs to take what pill when, the burning edge of the hole I feel with the loss of too many too soon. I've been afraid that if I forget a detail, I will lose everything. Perhaps there are somethings that need to be forgotten in order to move on? I've watched my Dad struggle to remember details daily. Some have been minor, like when he had seen me last. He swears it's been days, when I visit him daily, sometimes twice or three times. Other details have been much larger and harder to witness. One day he could not identify my Mom in a picture of the two of them. It broke my heart as anyone who knows my parents, knows that my dad was completely devoted to my Mom. He adored her and she was his world. But in that moment he could not remember the pain and anguish he has been suffering with her loss. He didn't feel the burning edges of the hole. In a selfish, twisted way, I envy those moments he had. As we continue this journey of details, remembering, and forgetting, I will have to learn to accept my position as the keeper of the memories. I will gladly carry in remembrance the details of what is being forgotten. I will cherish and adore the memories of love and laughter, the details that we used to overcome and carry on, and if I must remember the sting of singed, smoldering hole of what's been lost. Then I hope and pray that the pain stretches me so that I may grow to use it to the betterment of myself, and those that I love. I will accept the forgotten memories as a blessing of mercy.

Confessions of a know it all

I love nothing more than someone asking me a question that I simply don't have an answer to. I am one of those freaks who actually finds the task of taking on a challenge of something unfamiliar as a way to stretch my comfort zone. Even more a way to learn. And when I want to learn about something new, I exhaust every effort of research methods to absorb as much as I can. Why do I not mind what others hate? I must confess, I am a know it all. I think my OCD is at such a magnitude that my fear is that I may make an important life changing decision without being fully informed. I am the caregiver and financial "boss" for our family of 7. An informed decision is the only way I can go. Who doesn't want to say that they made the best decision for their loved one?

I thrived on this when we were told that Jake would be legally blind and to accept it. Had I simply done that, he would not be where he is now, at near perfect vision with his corrective lenses that are double digit prescriptions weaker than his first pair of glasses as a baby. I found the therapy of research soothing when Noah was diagnosed with an Autism spectrum disorder. There is comfort in knowing that you're not the only to have experienced certain things, and even more so when you are not blindsided by some new behavior presentation. With so many treatment options out there for just about anything that ails you, it is always good to make an informed decision. However, when it is your child, and you are the person they are counting on to advocate for their best interest, the responsibility of that task can weigh as much as much as a Buick.

I found my know it all status was helpful to my acceptance of what was to come with my Momma's health. Having grown up with Asthma, having had two children with RSV as infants, and a daughter with severe Asthma I was familiar with much of the medication that Momma required. Having been working at a Hospice agency with the resources of coworkers I developed a greater understanding of COPD than I ever needed to know. I was able to know what was to be expected next, and although it was heartbreaking when each step arrived, there was a sense of comfort in having been at least mentally ready. The case was much the same when my Gradad's Alzheimer's declined. Although I wasn't ready for the decline to be so sudden and swift, from a clinical viewpoint, it was all following the same textbook path.

Having survived the year, when the dust settled it was decided that my Dad would be coming to Ohio to live with me and my family. My know it all status was at an all time high. I was knowledgable of Dad's health concerns, and medical history. I knew all of his medications, what they were for, the importance of each one. I knew which doctor's he needed to establish ongoing care with, and started a to do list of of how we were going to get him overhauled and back to optimal shape. Once we got his routine stuff taken care of, it was on to mobility. He was in desperate need of knee replacement. During his pre-surgical physical there was a heart beat irregularity. We got a thorough work up with a Cardiologist the next day and a green light for the surgery. The day of surgery came and his blood wasn't quite ready, we had to come home for a few days with injections to allow his blood to thicken just a bit. None of this seemed odd given his medical history and medications. I was thankful for the precautions of the doctors and hospital. However after surgery came the chaos of the unprepared effects of surgery. There is always risk. What I wasn't expecting was for it to actually all come down around me. Post-op became Hell. Dad's blood pressure dropped, leading to acute renal failure. With his kidneys not working properly he started building up fluids and much of the medication started to build up as well. His blood was dangerously thick and he started to become increasingly lethargic and altered. After this had gone on for days, I demanded a consultation with a neurologist. With his kidney function improving, his mental status remained the same, and on some days was worse. An MRI revealed that Dad had developed at some point prior, Vascular Dementia. Initially, it seemed surreal. Hadn't this man been through enough? How could I, who knows it all, have not seen this? But it all adds up. His behavior prior to surgery and medical history all line up. He has had all the risk factors for developing it. I had attributed so much to other causes, masking it. While they could still be reasons for it, it really doesn't matter. What matters is moving forward. Starting a new normal for my family. Accepting that it is not going to be easy, it is going to be hard work.

I don't know it all, but I am going to make darn sure that I find doctors and therapists willing to teach me. I will find a way to manage a 3 generational household of misfits who each have their own quirks and special needs. I will manage a budget that will look like advanced calculus. But with the knowledge that God always has provided a way, and he will continue. I will research ways to make sure that Dad gets the most of everyday, and do my best to be ready for the next step. Whenever it decides to present itself. I will do this not only because I promised my Momma, but because it is what I want to do. We are called to honor our parents. It is a joy and a privilege to take care of him. He adored my mom, worked hard to provide for his family. He has a kind soul, and a heart for his family. What more do I need to know?

Family defined

Fam·i·ly (noun)
a. a basic social unit consisting of parents and their children, considered as a group, whether dwelling together or not: the traditional family.
b. a social unit consisting of one or more adults together with the children they care for: a single-parent family.

2. the children of one person or one couple collectively: We want a large family.

3. the spouse and children of one person: We're taking the family on vacation next week.

4. any group of persons closely related by blood, as parents, children, uncles, aunts, and cousins: to marry into a socially prominent family.

all those persons considered as descendants of a common progenitor.


A quick search on Dictionary.com will reveal the definition of family. However I am not so convinced anymore that it is an accurate description of what family truly is. I have a feeling that I may not be alone in what I feel defines the term “family”. Does a family go beyond genetics and a common last name? I guess in this case, size doesn’t matter. I may have been brought up in a relatively small group of family that I am related to by blood, but I feel that my true family is vast, and growing continually.

The establishment of family was created to tie people together. So that each member would be shored up by another so that with a strong foundation, it could stand up against the strongest of storms. One of my favorite versus that convinces me that God wants family to work as a unit is from the Psalms, But from everlasting to everlasting the LORD’s love is with those who fear him, and his righteousness with their children’s children. Psalm 103:17

Yet, I just can’t stop there. Why? Well, my traditional family has undergone many changes. My previously small family has become even smaller. Those who I dwelled with and have descended from are now only 1 other, my sister. I do have my step father, who I adore and now care for full time in my home. His steadfast love of my mother, and her two daughters helped build the foundation of my ever changing idea of what a family is. I have also created a rather large family of my own with my husband. My husband is a fantastic blessing to me and is an incredible anchor in the many storms. But I have realized that my family is so much larger. I see family everywhere I go.



This is a picture of my daughters cross country team. They remind me that family is a fortress that stands strong. I have been brought to tears and we have only had two meets this season. These girls pump one another up. They encourage one another, and they hold one another up. I have witnessed these girls run their hearts out, then get right on the route lines and encourage the boys, whether they are friends or not. All that matters is that there is a fellow runner wearing a Bethel Tate jersey and they will not run alone. They run along the route cheering, encouraging and pumping the runner up. Even if they are the very last runner of that heat. Social status doesn’t matter, runners are family. I have watched parents wait until the very last runner comes in. They cheer as though it was their child, even though their child finished minutes, sometimes hours ago. It doesn’t matter, that child is a runner, runners are family.


I also learned that my family spans the years and the miles. Time holds no boundaries to family. My time spent in California to support my family during my mom’s illness and passing was revealing of how time does not change ties. Friends from my childhood called, texted, and made sure I was well fed. The day that Momma passed I had more support than I ever thought I would need. My nearly three hour layover in Philadelphia was met with one of my bestest friends driving 2 hours to make sure I had lunch. It was then that I found out that my Momma had gone peacefully. The five hour flight was made easier by wifi access so that I could communicate with my husband and dear friends who were doing all they could to help pass the time. I was met at the airport by my sweet friend, Jennefer. She insisted that she pick me up at LAX so that my family could focus on each other until I arrived. She made sure I ate, and stayed with me and my family. Her family offered me a car to make sure that we had enough vehicles to do the things that we needed to do. Memories of sleepovers spent at that home, treats made, curfews, late night giggles, and hugs. The last time I had seen her brothers they were just little boys running around in under-roos and capes. Now they were men, one raising his own family. A dinner with who I grew up with as a second mom made me jealous of my friend. Yet I now am thankful that I can still call her mom.

There is this strange yet blessed phenomenon that takes place when you endure an incredible loss. You become a part of a small selective society. It’s a club of sorts. The only thing that gets you in is having shared a common burden. If you have lost your mom, then you understand the heart break, the jealousy of friends who still have theirs, the anger when that first mother’s day comes and you can no longer hear her thank you. You know regret of missed thank you’s, I should have called more, and why didn’t I visit more. If you’ve been a caretaker for a sick loved one, then you understand the exhaustion, the devotion, the guilt of wanting more sleep, the heartbreak in watching them lose weight, and slip further away, the difficult decisions, the 3 am prayers whispered.

My sweet friend, Jennefer is having to experience the anguish and the blessing of caring for a loved one who is fighting the fight of her life. You see, her precious niece, Sterling (the daughter of one of her under-roo wearing brothers), experienced some headaches that were discovered to be caused by a rare form of cancer. There have been incredibly tough decisions, difficult nights spent in countless hospital hallways. It’s barely been over a month, yet their journey is just begun. This battle requires lots of man power, lots of prayers and is going to require the support of many who are willing the join the ranks to see that Sterling receives as much love and help as she can to fight. I welcome you to be a part of Sterling’s journey. To uplift her family, to witness the blessings unfold. I would be hard pressed to find someone who has not been touched by cancer, touched by watching the daily battle against it. The family ties to that experience are far too reaching than I could ever fathom.


This is how you can follow Sterling's Journey and help:
https://www.mylifeline.org/sterlingchronicles/?page=welcome.cfm

I’ve heard the phrase, “Blood is thicker than water”, but I have also heard, “friends are the family you chose for yourself”. What I do know for a fact is that you can never have too much family, be it those who you are bound to by genetics and namesake or by the mutual understanding of the souls journey. I love my family, it stretches across the miles, oceans and time. May God bless my family, and may I always be at the ready to shore up those who I am bound to.

II Cor.13: 11-14

11 Finally, brethren, farewell.  Become complete.  Be of good comfort, be of one mind, live in peace; and the God of love and peace will be with you.  12 Greet one another with a holy kiss.  13 All the saints greet you. 14 The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with you all. Amen.

In a FUNK.

I have been in a funk this week and I couldn’t figure out why. I have been thinking of my Momma more and more over the past couple of weeks. With the end of the school year for the Indians, there are plenty of choir shows, plays and awards shows. When we would talk she would love to hear about all their accomplishments and always ask for photos. With our move we’ve been putting countless hours into getting walls painted, and I’ve been putting in a paper bag floor. I couldn’t help but wonder what she would say about all of that, well, If anyone knew my mom, you can hear her, “Ohhhs and Ahhhs”. My mom was always known for her overwhelming enthusiasm. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of something that would prompt me to call her to share some randomness with her, to hear her encouragement and excitement at our daily adventures. Put that together with Mother’s Day and I’ve been a bit of a mess. I found myself seething with anger the more I went out. I would be at Walmart and they would have tables full of trinkets and signs that Mother’s Day was fast approaching. Even my email was full of offers to get mom the latest in electronics, an offer for a free cup of coffee for mom when you buy yours, and even an offer to get mom anti wrinkle treatment! Because isn’t that what every mom wants? (Heavy sarcasm!) I think my emotional roller coaster derailed when I stopped at Michaels for a few odds and ends. At the register was a sign that said, “Your mom called and she wants a Michaels gift card for Mother’s Day!” I had to hold myself back from punching the clerk and telling her, “Up yours and your moms!” I found myself crying in the car for a short while and wondering what my problem was. Did I hate Mother’s Day that much now? I felt like it was everywhere, in my face, mocking me for no longer having my mom to celebrate. But isn’t all the advertising making a mockery of mom’s everywhere? I have ODC tendencies, (I got it from my Momma) but that doesn’t mean that I want my family to get me a dyson. I don’t want random ceramic trinkets that will clutter shelves in my house. I want to spend a day with my children, and I would give anything to spend a day with my mom. Oddly enough, my mom was crafty and I do believe that much of her income went into a Michael’s register. But if she could call me, I doubt it would be to tell me that all she wanted for Mother’s Day was a gift card. Today, I feel an overwhelming sense of guilt. My mom loved nothing more than to spend time with her babies. And I took that joy from her. I chose to move my family over 2,000 miles away. We didn’t spoil her with visits and our time. I didn’t do enough to celebrate her and her place as my mother. More often than not I was selfish with my time, and did not tell her enough how much I appreciate the sacrifice it took to raise me. Perhaps I felt that there would always be time, time to tell her, time to show her, time to celebrate her. Now that she is gone, I can’t help but think of all the things I could have done, should have done. Here I am, still in bed. Waring with myself to get up and get on with today. My little mini me brought me handmade artwork that I will cherish. I know I need to celebrate in the joy that I am now the Mom. I am the one who is devoted to her children, and I get to relish in time with my babies. I know those days are numbered as well. They are young now, but that is moving at the speed of light. All too soon they will be moving on and raising their own families. I will be the one asking for their time, their visits. Because I would rather have their time, then anti wrinkle treatments. If you have the blessings of being able to spend time with your mom, do it. Not for me, but for you. I am sure your mom wants nothing more for Mother’s Day than to enjoy you. Happy Mother’s Day. I hope to find a way to use today to celebrate my Momma and all that she was, is, and will be to me as I journey on through my days. May I do all that I can to honor her, and make her proud of the Mother I strive to be. One who loves unconditionally, carries a wooden spoon, and is not afraid to be herself. I love you, Momma.

“Let us not look back in anger, nor forward in fear, but around in awareness.” -James Thurber

There are moments when you hear someone speaking to an audience, yet they are speaking directly at you. It may not be the very words that they are saying, but there is something in the message that gets into your soul and shakes you. There is something about a sentence, or a phrase that they speak that makes your thoughts go in another direction. Perhaps I am the only one? Somehow I don’t think that is the case. This morning I was listening to our pastor give a very powerful message and my mind wandered a little bit. I know he was getting into my kitchen, so to speak. One of those messages that gets very personal and makes you uncomfortable. Those messages make you think and make you see truths about yourself, your path, your actions, inactions, and your choices of where you are heading. You are faced with the good and the bad.

The truth is, I am angry. I have been angry for about two months now, and it has only risen on a near daily basis as circumstances continue to spiral even higher and more out of control. I can pin point the day that it seemed as though the final piece to a puzzle revealed itself to bring about completion to what I had been praying for God to allow us to have for years. Yet it seems as though with the introduction of that piece, many of the others were damaged and destroyed leaving my picture of perfection incomplete.

The church home and spiritual growth that I had craved and prayed for God to provide to our family completed it all for me. I was ready to jump in with both feet. I wanted to grab onto the teaching, vision and community with both hands. I could see my entire family once again being sharpened, on its way to becoming instruments to be used by God for his people. I should have seen it. After having been in the same spot of spiritual excitement, I should have known that it was coming… The storm. You can’t have all the pieces. I have witnessed spiritual warfare, and I know that there are forces who will seek, kill and destroy those who working towards God's will. The storm I have encountered this past year has had far reaching and damaging ripples, has stifled my ability to effectively serve the way I am accustom to, the way I desire to, and the way I feel called to. I have felt under attack, undermined and I will admit at times abandoned by God.

While much has been given, I can’t help but feel that so much has been taken away, so much, so quickly that I had to pause to see what was actually left. I can remember times in my life that were dark, scary, twisty and ugly yet God gave me amazing gifts that offered me hope and light. Out of what remains my most darkest and ugliest experience, He offered me what I considered to still be the most precious gift. A gift I still treasure and am determined to return to Him in eternal perfection. However, through this, I am left wondering where He is right now as I see so much vanishing, leaving me confused and scared. Where is His hedge of protection? Or is He allowing this test? What am I to take away from this? What purpose do this have on eternity? I have experienced moments that I fail to find words to describe. Moments that I would not believe, had I not been present to be in the midst of them. Moments that I never would have been able to create in my vivid far fetched, and at times irrational imagination. Moments that wake me in the middle of the night. They have tested my resolve, my faith, my confidence in myself, and my ability to recognize what is normal, and make me question if I will ever achieve any resemblance of it again. They have brought about feelings of fear, jealousy, guilt, inadequacy, denial and anger.

Yet here I sit, holding on to hope. I confessed, like a scared child to my mother in law that I was angry with God. She said that she was glad. Yes, glad. Being angry with God meant that I still believed that He was there. When I quit believing, then she was going to worry. She then reminded me that He is a big God and He can handle my anger. I hope that is the case, I have quite a large quantity of it as of late. No matter how hard I try to be still, be quite and listen, I can’t hear Him... yet. But I haven’t lost hope that He is there. I am still holding onto promises kept, with clenched fists and desperation. I am anxiously anticipating the revelation of His promises through this. After all, a God of love would not let all this be for nothing.

Jeremiah 29:11
For I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord. “They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.

Like a ton of bricks

Gravity. Flattered. Pressure. Fear. Comfort. Sinking. Anticipation. Overwhelmed. Love. Anger. Gratitude. Numb. Nostalgia. Sorrow. Joy. Guilt. Heartache. Redemption.

All words that describe and define moments of this past week.

Navigating this journey of life and being an adult is trying at times. I have had the oppressive desire to shut out the world around me and just retreat. Sleep, read, and ignore the obligations I have to others, and truthfully be selfish. I want so badly to throw myself a pity party and wallow in my selfishness. But where would that get me? Certainly not forward, where I so desperately want to be.

I am an adult. As hard as it is for me to believe, for it seems like just yesterday I was in fact a selfish teenager. I have to experience adult experiences. Raising children who become teenagers with their own personalities. I have to discipline, and teach these human beings and hope that I don’t absolutely screw them up. I have a mortgage, and insurance, and a credit score. I have had to make funeral arrangements for my mother. Make difficult decisions for elderly family members. Watch people I love struggle with cancer, lose, suicide. I am going to learn the experience of caring for an adult parent. My childhood friend had to make the difficult decision to let her husband go last night after all medical options were exhausted and his body could not sustain him any longer. Long gone are the days of being care free and knowing that my only worry is homework and filling my weekend calendar with complete debauchery. I am not my only concern. This is real. The joy and heartache of the journey.

While I have been lost in the midst of chaos, I have been blessed with moments. Simple moments that have given me joy and a sense of love and gratitude. Moments where my husband allows me to cry into the hours of the night. Moments where friends send me quick messages of encouragement. Using a blend of words that bring tears to my eyes and thankfulness to my heart for their presence in my life. Messages of funny, quirkiness that make me smile. I find myself overwhelmed that a picture or phrase made little me come to ones mind. Then they took the time to share that thought with me. I received the most random message late last night. A person I went to school with, but never had the opportunity to know personally sent me a message. It was simply that they had seen pictures and heard stories of me through the years from mutual friends. They gave me some of the most incredible compliments and thought I would like to know. I was completely overwhelmed with flattery and then guilt. How often have I had the opportunity to do the same for others? More than I can count. How often have I taken advantage of that opportunity and expressed encouragement and compliments? Nearly never.

Yes I am traveling a rough road. But it not a path that has never been travelled. Many have traveled this road. And I have no doubt that I am not alone. For many have made it aware to me that they are with me, willing to carry me even should I stumble, or feel the need to fall apart. Am I extending the same? I don’t think I am. Not well enough. I may not know the extend of the weight of the burdens that one who is traveling along side is carrying. But there is no reason I can find to not offer the same love, words, thoughts, prayers and encouragement that I have been so abundantly given. I do not need to have experienced the same grief, sorrow, lose, or pain to know that others need those vital things. No longer will I take for granted those who love me. No longer will I assume that there are others doing the same in kind for them as they are doing for me.


I feel the challenge to be more aware, more willing, and be more present. I can move forward on this journey with others. There is nothing stopping me. What is stopping you?

Forward Momentum

So often in January I reflect on the previous years adventures. How I may have stumbled, how I may have grown. And likewise as a family. How my children have succeeded and how they have grown. I haven’t quite found the time to spend on reflection. Perhaps it is denial, or rather that I am so focused on the coming changes that it makes it hard to look back.

I have accepted that 2011 dealt many challenges and I had to navigate around a few delicate wounds that I was not ready to encounter. Left untreated they only festered with infection that became a hinderance to personal growth. By November, I had Jake scheduled for surgery to repair his broken hand from soccer, Madison in physical therapy for a fractured back from soccer, my sister in route to California to care for our Mom who was is in the final stages of COPD, and Aaron found me at 3 am scrubbing the vents under the fridge with a toothbrush with one hand, and my cell phone in the other. My cell phone became a permanent fixture in my hand. The anxiety that something would happen, either here or in California was overwhelming. I couldn’t sleep, my chest hurt, I felt like I couldn’t breath, I couldn’t focus and my OCD was at an all time high. Luckily, my husband is an amazing, patient man. He suggested that I talk with our doctor, who is also a friend about my panic attacks. As embarrassing as it is to admit that you have lost a portion of control is, the timing was perfect.

I started medication for generalized anxiety and a medication to help me get some sleep. Within a few weeks Jake was taken care of, Madie was done with therapy and stronger than ever. I had spoken with Mom and she had an amazing weekend out and about. We had discussed some things that she was looking forward to during my visit I had planned for January. Only 5 days later I knew it wasn’t going to be. December was a blur. And I was thankful for the chemical help as well as the calming peace that I desperately prayed for.

I had made a promise to my mom that I would personally see to it that dad was taken care of should her passing come to be. She knew as well as I did that him staying in California and living alone was not going to be an option. Now some might call it fate, but I always think that God, being all knowing like he is, granted us an incredible mercy. My father in law was putting his retirement from the printing world into motion. He has also been pastoring for a sweet country church as well. He was approached with the opportunity to take his ministry to the next level, which he prayerfully accepted. With that came the news that he and my mother in law would most likely need to move. Leaving into question their home. With a few modifications it could provide more than enough room for my family of six, and accommodate the inclusion of my dad. So in July we will be moving across town, over the creek and through the woods. The kids will remain in the same school district and they will each have their own room. My dad will have his own room with access to the bathroom from his room as well.

In less than a years time there will have been so much change, transition and I pray growth in our family. From lose, to opportunity, to new perspectives, to additions. As we go through this forward momentum I am in continual prayer that God’s hand be on each of us. That patience will abound, that words be true, actions be right, and hearts be open.

Why it's just Tuesday around here.

I don’t have to go very far to be reminded that there must be something going on today. Everywhere I look there are hearts and overpriced chocolate boxes and flowers. I had to make not one, but two trips for valentines cards and treats for the minions classes. But other than that things around are business as usual.

I went out to breakfast with a dear friend this morning and she asked if Aaron and I were doing anything special for Valentines Day. Luckily she knows that all is good so she wasn’t concerned when I replied that we in fact were not. We don’t really recognize Valentines Day. Now before you get all upset and accuse my husband of being an insensitive man let me tell you why I realized that I don’t need today to mean anything other than Tuesday, February 14th.

There was a time when I wanted Aaron to be more unrealistically romantic. I wanted the flowers, the outrageous gifts, the spontaneous dates, the publicly proclaimed love and devotion of me. I was a young, foolish girl who failed to see things as they were. We were young, raising babies on a tight budget. We were in a state away from both of our families and the majority of our friends lived over 30 minutes away. Aaron was working over 75 miles from home and we had one car. Perfect conditions for him to be prince charming, right?

He did bring me home a gift one year. He was working at Robert Mondavi Wines in downtown Chicago. **The very Chicago that is home to the best hockey team in the world, the Chicago Blackhawks. On that day, Aaron walked several city blocks in a snowstorm to, “The Hawks Nest”. This was the official retail store of the Blackhawks. He quickly realized that our budget would not allow for the jersey he wanted to get me. Instead he purchased what we could afford. A puck. Seriously, a hockey puck. After we tucked the kids into bed he confessed that he had gone and gotten me a gift. He explained that he wanted so badly to surprise me with a jersey and presented me with the puck. It was heavy, and had the Blackhawk Indian boldly on the face. Some girls get diamonds, some get roses, and some get chocolate. I got what is quite possibly the most thoughtful heartfelt gift I had ever gotten.

I realize that my husband is not the mushy, romantic lead actor type from romantic comedies that I expected true love to be. But he has exceeded all of my expectations in earning my love and devotion by his actions. He is a do-er, he has to be in constant motion doing something. His father is like that, and he is as well by nature. It is not uncommon for me to come home and find that he has washed, dried and folded several loads of laundry. Has cleaned the kitchen and had dinner on the table. He greets me on weekend mornings with a cup of my favorite coffee as an offering. He gets me chocolate, often. It may not be in a hearts shaped box, but he knows that I loves Reeses and Heath bars. He doesn't bring me flowers from a shop that die a week later. He plants me gardens and gardens of flowers around our property. He clips some every few days and places them in a vase. He knows that I am ready to fall apart, so he holds me together, runs me a bath and pours me a glass of wine. He shoves me in the bathroom to soak while he puts the little ones to bed. He gets in the trenches and raises our kids. He disciplines, he guides, he teaches, he loves. He lets me scream when I need to scream. He holds me when I need to cry.

He is gentle, kind, compassionate, passionate and my best friend. He makes me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world when I would think I am at my lowest. Hair all a mess, no make up in baggy scrubs and a hoodie. And I fall in love with him all over again. As a young girl I wanted a knight in shining armor to make it all perfect. I got so much more than that. I got a Marine in a BMW who didn’t promise me that it would be perfect. It’s rough, we have had to fight hard for everything. But what he did promise, he has kept. He has always been by my side. He is my strength, my partner, my friend, no matter what. He makes me a better woman. This is our story everyday, not just on February 14th. He knows that a clean kitchen and a cup of coffee are the best way to make me weak in the knees.

How could that not be romantic? :)

** In case you didn't know. I am a huge fan of Chicago Blackhawks Hockey. And yes, they are the best.

Little treasures

I don’t have to look far to see you. I confess I have reminders of you in every place I could I think of. My biggest fear is forgetting any part of you.

I desperately want to hear your voice. Calling me your baby girl and telling me that I need to call more. Telling me that you love me. I want to tell you that I love you too. While searching for a voice mail on my phone I discovered that I had never deleted your voicemails this past year. I found one that I find myself listening to every few days. You say all the things that I need to hear.

I refuse to take your wedding ring off my right hand. It is nice and snug with Grandma’s wedding band. I hope it serves as a reminder of the marriages that they represented. I hope that I may have a marriage that is a strong as those two were.

I wear your t-shirts as pajama’s hoping that I will remember the warmth that I felt when you would wrap your arms around me.

I have the silly little stuffed Kermit. The night that you left I found it on your dresser and I slept with it every night, holding it tightly in my fist. I remembered Kermit always rode along in the “Tina Toyota”. We would pose him on the dash, or in the ashtray. He reminds me of our many adventures.

I went and bought a bottle of your favorite lotion. I have to put it on my hands nightly so that I can remember the smell of you. I would tease you that lavender was an old lady fragrance, but now it is the most tranquil and relaxing scent. After you left us, I could still smell it on your pillow. Some may find it silly, but that scent is comfort to me.

I have your wooden spoons in my kitchen. Every good Momma has wooden spoons. They remind me of ensuring discipline and boundaries for my children. You made sure that I understood respect and it’s value. I hope that my children learn the same lesson from me.

The blankets I have that were made by your hands, and the hands of grandma are all around the house. You made the kids each a blanket those are on their beds. I have others in the living room and my bedroom. There is nothing like wrapping up in them. It is as though I am wrapping myself in love. I once thought that I would keep them tucked away in the steamer trunk, so that they don’t get ruined. But then I thought that you made them so that I would enjoy them. There is greater enjoyment in snuggling in the blankets with a good book, then to have them tucked out of sight for decades.

I had painted my nails the other day. As I held my hand out to make sure I was satisfied with the color, I found myself crying. My hands looked just as I remembered yours looking. My hands may not be as talented as yours were. However, I only have to look down to see a part of you in me.

As I was growing up I always thought I favored my father. My dark eyes, dark straight hair, my olive complexion. It wasn’t until I started looking at pictures of you when you were my age now that I realized how much I resemble you. I have your smile, your nose, and the same shape face. Looking further at pictures of Gran I can see that you got much of that from her. As I watch Madie grow I can see that despite the fact that the four generations may have different hair and eye color, we all have that same shape face, nose and smile.

I have to accept that you are no longer with us. I feel the hole that is left now that you are gone. These few little things that I have that remind me of you have helped to soften the edges of that hole so that it doesn’t feel as though I can’t do this without you. I have you, everywhere. And I am so grateful to have that to carry me until I can see you again.

Love you, Momma.