Featured Slider

To J, With Love

On Saturday my J passed away. Today is 2 years since Nan-Naw passed. I know they are together again and they must be rejoicing. I know that J is walking tall, confident, and pain free once more, as he did when he carried me on his shoulders when I was a little girl. In my mind I can recognize the goodness of his passing, but my heart is still broken.

 He is part of my earliest memories. I remember he and Nan-Naw pushing me on a swing. He was behind me and Nan-Naw in front. He would tickle me when the swing went back and she would tickle me feet when it went forward. We were all three laughing. I remember the warmth of the air and the feeling of being loved. This is one of my earliest memories.



 When I went to their house sometimes I would borrow one of J's t-shirts to sleep in. I remember how soft they were and how they smelled so fresh. I remember the way it felt on the top of my feet where the t-shirt hung to because it was so big on me.

 Through the years he did so many things for us. Once they took us 4 oldest girls on vacation to the Gulf of Mexico. They bought a box of peaches along the way and Nan-Naw was trying to get us to eat the peaches before they spoiled. J would slip us cookies under the peaches when Nan-Naw wasn't looking.



 I remember him sitting on the beach watching us play in the water for hours. His bald head and the top of his feet were blistered the next day.

I remember sitting on his shoulders to feed sea gulls and being terrified as they swooped towards me. I remember "betting" on horses with him at the races.


I remember him always being there. Patient, mostly quiet, through my entire life. Grumbling a little here and there as he patiently baited hooks for us and took us to the fair and bought Long John Silver's and took us to Pizza Hut and made shelves, doll cradles, and kitchen sets for us. But always, always ready to step in and do anything at a moment's notice if we needed anything at all.

And now he is gone. No amount of recognizing that it is better for him takes away the sting of the finality of death. But no amount sting and grief now takes away the hope that I will see him and Nan-Naw, whole and strong again some day.

Thank you, J, for teaching me about love and sacrifice. Thank you for your unconditional acceptance.   

Little Dancer

Last week we went on a cruise. Eliana, as is typical for her with new experiences, was full of questions and anxiety as the time to get on the ship approached. She even shed a fear tears as we waited while Keith parked the vehicle.



On that first afternoon, as we were delayed in port thanks to a tropical storm, there was a kick off dance lesson. At first she was just dancing off to the side, but soon she was right in the middle of it, keeping up move for move, jump for jump.


And she didn't stop when it was over. She kept right on dancing. At first a few people continued with her, but soon she was the only one. Occasionally, over the next hour and a half, someone would join her for a while, but most of the time she danced by herself. On and on, jumping, twirling, joyous and free from inhibition or anxiety.



It was a beautiful start to our vacation. And I think she danced all of her anxiety away, because we certainly didn't see it again.

Douglas...

Douglas has a new address. The tears have been real today, folks.



Before he left this morning, his car filled with his belongings, he told me, "I like where I am in life right now." And that is all that really matters.

He is happy. We are so thankful for the man he is. We aren't worried that he isn't ready for this.

But I still can't reconcile it all in my mind.

I cried when he went to visit school the first time, the year before he actually started. I cried when he started school, his lunchbox carefully packed and a special bag I made for him to carry papers in clutched in his little hands.

I know we will get used to this. But today it hurts. Today I keep wondering how that adorable baby boy who made me a Mama almost 19 years ago can possibly be a grown man.