Now it gets REALLY wierd!

Last night I went out to a really nice dinner with my husband, kids and a friend visiting from out of town. Had a lovely evening, great dinner and came home and went to bed. The phone rang about 10:30, which startled me because it never rings that late with anything but bad news. My sister was on the phone and told me that our Dad had died. I didn't feel anything. It is really strange. I haven't seen him since I was 16, and haven't spoken to him since I was in my late 20's. As a teenager, I used to wish that he was dead, because then I could stop hoping he would stop drinking and be a good parent. I don't think that he could have been a good parent even sober. He was incredibly limited and raised by people that were more limited than he was. He was so ill-equipped to marry and raise children that it is astonishing. The best thing that happened to us is that he was gone. I sort of feel bad that I don't feel bad! I grieved the father of my early years as a young woman. I felt pity for him. My life has been so full of people that care for me and have loved me, that I stopped looking for it in those that couldn't. I am grateful for those people and for the parents that I have. I know in my heart and to the tips of my toes, that my family are the ones who chose to be there, who love me when it isn't easy and love me when it is.

Starting Over

I used to have trouble getting to school. I don't mean I couldn't find it, I mean I could not get there. I walked to school as did every other kid in the neighborhood. It was about 1/2 mile a way and yes it was up hill both ways. I would start out in my uniform with my book-bag and head down the hill. I always ended up back home. There were a variety of reasons...my hair wasn't right, my socks wouldn't stay up, my nose was running....I ended up back home and in tears. I would sit on my Mom's lap and she would tell me to start my day over. I would sob and sniffle and gulp for air and tell her I couldn't. She would hold her hand about a half an inch from my face with her palm facing my forehead. She would slowly lower her hand until it reached my chin. If there was no smile, she would start again. I have no idea how long it took, but I know that some days it took a number of trys. I would eventually leave and walk to school. Throughout my life I have needed to restart my day and in some cases my life. How great is it that we get second, third and more chances. I also am in awe of the patience that my mother had. I am pretty sure after the first few times, I would have lost my mind and shouted "GO TO SCHOOL ALREADY !!!!!" Fortunately for me, I was treated with love, understanding and patience. I am grateful that I do not need to restart my life much these days. It is a blessing to get up and do what is in front of me. I have reached a sense of peace with who I am and where I am in my life. I no longer want to be anyone else but who I am. Sure I would LOVE to be thinner, have more money, etc, but I really wouldn't want to change who I am or what happened to me that made all of this possible. Not bad considering.

Photographs and Memories

That is title of an old song that I listened to as a 7th or 8th grader. I knew all the words at one time. As I remember, it was all that was left of a relationship..photographs and memories. My sister has been helping my Mom organize and separate her photographs into books for each of her children, grandchildren, and nieces and nephews. It is an amazing project and they are doing a terrific job. I have looked through my books and am stunned by how much has happened in my life and how much both I remember and have forgotten. I look at photos from when I was in high school and I can remember like it was yesterday to be that 15 year old girl. I remember what it felt like to have my stomach flutter because "he " was standing so close to me. I remember how my heart broke when a few short months later, he told me he didn't want to see me any more. Mostly when I look through these books, what I see are smiles and laughter. Some are the usual holiday shots. Everyone has a photo album full of them. We have always had fun holidays and it is captured sometimes in black and white and sometimes in color. There are photos of my parents as teenagers when they were dating and then when they were first married. Photos of my grandparents both as I remember them, but also when they were young. I used to look at these photographs trying to understand what made some of these people tick, how did they become the people the were. I finally came to the conclusion after doing some genealogical research and talking to some of them that basically everyone did the best that they could. They may have been limited by fear, or circumstance. I learned to have some empathy for some of those who came before me. This is where I come from. I have some of the the true greats that have come before me also. My Mom is one of them. I hope that I can be one of if not the great ones, at least one of the good ones.