Grateful Friday

Today I give thanks for...

My mom. We said goodbye to my her 15 years ago yesterday. It was my waking thought and also my last, but for most of the day I was focused on other things. Missing her has become part of the fabric of my daily life.

Last week was her birthday and the owls were making noise all night. It's one of the handful of times I've heard them this summer.

Ted is coming home today. I haven't talked to him all week. Between teaching and learning and life, he's quite busy. I know he's going to be full of stories. He loves to tell them too. I love to hear them.

I finally made it to the farmer market last week. I haven't been cooking much this summer so I haven't been making my weekly stop, and I still need to use up the fresh produce I got, but I will. And I will try and go weekly until the end of the season.

I stopped at the apple farm today to pick up a couple pecks. I didn't pick my own because Lily, my picking partner, is away at school. 

The 10 day forecast is summery for sure. I'll take as many flip flop days as I can.

When it does cool down, I found the most delicious orange sweater for the fall. I used to wear lots of orange. Lots of color really. Pinks and greens especially. I'm working on incorporating color again in my life.

 

 My digital frame. It was a birthday gift from my thoughtful guy. It brings me so much happiness to see the random images...memories appear. I'm especially drawn to the pictures of Finn right now.

Taking so many pictures. They're all I have left of him now. This is the last one.

My Polaroid. I brought it on our lake vacation and took random candids throughout the week. By week's end, there was a happy collage of all of our fun on display on the refrigerator. I let everyone take their faves and then I brought them home and made another collage on my chalk board. It's still making me smile a month later.

 

Finally uploading all my pictures from the last couple months. I feel relief because there were hundreds of them.

A terrible family selfie after a lovely family dinner.

Hazel and Gus are keeping an eye on each other and staying close. They are also keeping an eye on us.

My cousin is coming to town next week. I'm looking forward to seeing her after too long.

I'll be able to see Jimmy Fallon when I go to NY next month now that the strike is over. I'm also deciding between Gutenberg and I Need That, or both. I'll be there for work, but I have my priorities.

Rainy Day Mood

I slept for 9 hours last night and still struggled to get out of bed this morning. It's a cozy rainy day, but I welcome the gloom. Hazel and Gus visited several times during the night. She'll stay for snuggles. He gives nose kisses and then steals a drink from my water glass. We're all adjusting to Finn's absence. Actually, I don't think Gus thinks much about it. Hazel is a little out of sorts at times. We hear her caterwauling from the corners of the house calling for him, we presume. It's beyond sad.

As sad as we were to lose our big boy, we felt blessed to get news last night that Hazel and Gus are healthy. The virus that caused Finn's lymphoma did not infect our other two. We were living with bated breath all weekend, knowing we needed to get them tested. It was a dark shadow following us and man that was awful. Now I can process my grief and my relief simultaneously. I said out loud several times last night that it is strange to have such joy in the face of such sorrow, but I know that's not true. Life's incongruity is really not much of a mystery. We live we love. Death makes us love harder. Love is at the heart of our happiness. 

We had a lot of love this weekend. It was a family affair. My aunt and uncle were visiting from Arizona. It was good to have a positive distraction at Casa Wags. My brother had me dancing around the kitchen and signing in spoons Saturday night. Family met for Sunday dinner at our favorite Italian place to close out the weekend. I didn't have much time to ruminate or worry, but of course, it was always just below the surface.

Mike called while I was coming home from an airport run last night to give me the great news about Hazel and Gus. I knew he wouldn't give me a bad report while I was driving so I couldn't wait to answer his call. I'm pretty sure that lifted burden was responsible for such a solid night's sleep. And like clockwork this morning, I am missing Finn because I'm finally in a space where I can focus on my shy sweet boy with the heart on his nose, the wily white whiskers and the piercing green eyes who loved to curl up in baskets or sinks or on my pillow. I'll miss the way he would rub against my legs, engage in expressive conversation and demand to be let under the covers in the middle of the night numerous times. I'm so grateful I never denied him.

The Other Shoe: RIP Finnegan McGoo

I woke today with a heavy heart and it's only become more of a burden. I thought I would find relief, but instead I have nothing but grief. Our lovable Finn was very sick and we had to say goodbye. It was an impossible goodbye. Sudden and shocking and sad beyond sad. Our bright eyed boy was only 2 1/2 and really still a precocious kitten. What we'd been treating as a virus, was an aggressive cancer for which there was no cure. We did what we had to do broken-hearted. 

I want to say it's not fair and to ask why, but there are no answers that would satisfy me. I saw myself growing old with the Tres Amigos. Hazel and Gus don't know they are the Dos Amigos now. It doesn't have the same ring to it and yet I don't know what I'd do without them.

That shoe I was waiting to drop, felt like a bomb when it fell. 

I'll be back when I recover.

 

15 Years

Happy Birthday Mom,

Today you would be 75 years young. I say that because your life was cut short at 60 and I just know that you would still be living and loving big if you were here. Fifteen years makes me pause. It is a long time especially at this stage of our lives.

I have been dreaming about you nightly. While not particularly comforting or disturbing in nature, your cameos force me to the realization that you are gone when I wake up. That's not the most pleasant way to start the day.

This morning Candace sent me a text while I was still sleeping and Lily sent one when I was showering. Two of our gals who know how much I miss you because they do too. 

So a of couple things. Life is good and full at present. All summer, I've embraced this good fortune. Then the past couple weeks I've found myself waiting for the other shoe to drop, looking for harbingers of changing kismet, sensing the impending storm after a season of calm. It felt like self sabotage and a return to my pessimistic past, but I realized that this is a product of the anxiety that plagues me this time of year. Every year. For the past 15 years. Therein lies the textbook definition of it doesn't get easier, it gets different.

The hardest part is knowing what my kids have lost in losing you. You cherished them and loved nothing more than being their Nanny. I got 40 years with you. Teddy and Lily only got 7 and 4 respectively.

I wish we could toast you at Grenadier's (although that Milwaukee icon is also gone). I wish you could have seen your grandson become an Ironman. He has your grit. I wish you could spend time with Lily. She has your dry wit. They both have your fiery spirit and your joie de vivre. You would be unabashedly proud of them. And me. Because them.

This next week will be tricky. It always is. Your birthday and then Heaven day 7 days later. But you always said what doesn't kill us, doesn't kill us. I know I'll get through it.

I love you Mom. You were simply the best!

ironman weekending

I've been caught up in my head and my heart. It's all good, but sometimes even during times of big, bursting joy, I get verklempt to the point of losing my words. Usually this happens during times of one pinch me moment after another. It can be too much to process. So I don't. I sit with it and let the words come to me when I'm ready.

This past weekend was one of those filled with so many stories, connections, moments to remember for those times I need to tap into my faith and love for all humans tank. That tank was filled to overflowing this weekend.

The nexus of celebration was Ted's amazing Ironman race. When I heard the MC say, Ted Wegehaupt...You Are an IRONMAN, my knees went weak. I cannot fathom how he felt. He is, after all, the one who accomplished 140.4 miles in 13 hours. But here is the little secret about supporting someone's challenge and witnessing such an achievement...just a little bit of it is also your triumph.

Ted's cheering section was loud and proud and large. So many people were a part of the journey that ended when #871 crossed the finish line. Or maybe the journey is only just beginning. Most likely it's begun anew. I'm not sure that any one of us really expected that he would swim 2.4 miles, bike 114 miles and run 26.2 miles when he declared he was signing up for the race a year earlier. Ted's an amazing athlete, but he is also a big dreamer and schemer. He was not a strong swimmer, and had never completed a century or a marathon. Edited to add that he'd never finished more than a 5K, but he trained. He trained hard and the more money he invested in his race, the more I realized that he truly meant to earn the title. And once I knew that he would start, I knew he would finish.

One of the first things he did when he finished was thank everyone for their support. I thought I couldn't be any prouder of him for just crossing the line, but that he realized he hadn't done it alone just about blew me away. Everyone gathered had a role in getting him to this point. His roommate, Thomas, swam many laps with him at the Nich and worked on his turns and strokes and breathing. Lily took over this summer and coached him in the open water. She swam with him sans wet suit in Lake Michigan even when the water was cold to keep him on track and pace. Nathan ran with him and Timmy biked with him. Cousin Tim helped him trick out his bike and as a triathlete himself, he shared valuable tips. Meryl shared her boyfriend with the water and road. Training is not for sissies and it seriously cuts into free time, but she encouraged him to the very end. Uncle Brad and Aunt Ashley went out on the course with him for a couple miles when he was hurting mid-marathon. They are two of his biggest cheerleaders every.single.day. Mike was his bike mechanic and I was his nutritionist. All of us and many others, listened to endless IM talk for the better part of the year and all of the summer. So yeah, when he finished, every one of us felt connected to the experience.

Meryl gathered video clips from the day and put together a montage that I challenge anyone to watch and not feel something deep. I mean I cried for complete strangers many times that day and we cheered until we were hoarse and our wrists hurt from ringing cow bells. You cannot witness these competitors of every age and size from all over the world and not want to know their stories. Everyone has a story. What brought them here? Why are they doing this? Is it their first one? Will it be their last? How does it feel to have so many strangers lining the streets cheering for you? You got this 20! Looking strong Mom! You go girl! You are amazing! Just keep moving forward! You are fit, you are strong, you can do this all day long!

Ted, the consummate ham, loved all of the interaction with the spectators, and they (we) love a smile or a nod or a gesture, the bigger the better. My brother made it his business to high five every biker that passed by us on the way up Mid Town Road, one of the longest, most grueling hills on the course, and he even made the paper doing so. There's a reason Highway to Hell was on repeat. 

Ted smoked the swim and he crushed the bike. He said he could have biked all day. The run was a little tough, but he started out too fast, the day got hot and he didn't leave enough gas in the tank. It was  group effort to refuel his tank. While he never entertained throwing in the towel, there were more than a a few miles (7-14) we thought he might just walk until the end, but he worked through it (thanks chicken broth, family and friends) and he finished strong. That is actually my favorite thing about his race: the strength of spirit and mental fortitude it takes to hang in there and stick with it. That's the stuff that builds character. I feel like I was watching him grow right before my eyes.

That being said, there were so many bright spots from the day: Lily and Meryl running alongside Teddy up the hill and then doing a high five of their own, my dad and step mom showing up in their Wisconsin Grandpa and Wisconsin Grandma sweatshirts bursting with pride, Thomas and Meryl getting up at the crack ass of dawn to get him fueled and to the race start, the tearful, happy hug I shared with Meryl after his finish, Lily and Brad feeling inspired to do the half IM next year, all of the amazing race volunteers, the course that snaked around the campus we all love, the beautiful day, the camaraderie, and I could go on and on. 

I can still feel the tension in the air as we waited for the swim to start. Close to 1500 people worked hard to get to this point and here they were...we were. That energy hung in the air all day and night. Ted finished #345 at 8 o'clock with a smile on his face as soon as he crossed the line. We didn't go out to celebrate, but I never really thought that would happen. Another time most definitely. Instead Meryl and Thomas took him home and we brought over pizza at the IM's request. After a shower, he felt human. He didn't make his early morning class, but he was in front of the class to teach in the afternoon.  He still says he feels great. I want to bottle those endorphins and be 22 again.

Not really. I'm grateful to be.here.now and just beyond happy to have been a part of what I think is a watershed event in my son's life.

Video and pictures to come.

 

Hello September

The last half of August seemed to linger and also to fly by at science defying speed. Yes, it's true that time can stand still and disappear simultaneously. I'm coming up for air from what was a whirlwind past few weeks with a happy heart over what was a pretty perfect end to our calendar summer.

Ted and Lils are settled in Madison. We moved them in tandem Tuesday. It was a 12 hour day. Ted stayed in the same house, but moved into a new room with new big boy furniture. Lily is the queen of decor. Remind me to change my Amazon password STAT. We came home dog tired, but also proud as peacocks for pulling it off. Pulling it all off. The larger part of Lil's sectional was not getting up the narrow hallway to the second floor. Before waving the white flag, Mike schemed and decided with enough strength, we could hoist it over the railing and through the balcony door. Ted put out an SOS for muscle, Mike went to buy a rope and the troops that graciously gathered succeeded in getting the couch up and over and in. We have so many couch stories. Hopefully, this is the last.

Both their homes are cozy and that gives me a sense of peace...knowing that they are comfortable and safe and happy is a blessing and a relief. They are in good company with good friends.

Our week at Webb Lake was the quintessential end to summer. We take this week for just that reason. It's a the epilogue to the earlier chapters. It complicates back to school, but we know what we're doing now. We are expert movers who have the drill down so we eke out all that we can of time together in one of our happy places.

This year we had a revolving door of guests because my brother and sil were only able to stay for the beginning of the week. We were delighted for Meryl and then Pete, Sue and O. to join us mid week. This north woods compound is nothing short of magic. Magic should be shared, spread, stretched. We did our duty. I'm quite certain not a single one of us was ready to leave and not just because I had to unpack, do many loads of laundry, repack and shop to stock fridges in 36 hours.

I didn't dwell on any of that while I was enjoying my days and nights at Webb Lake. Every day is different and also the same because whether we are in the lake or the hot tub, playing tennis or taking a hike, playing a competitive game of hammerschlagen, team Wits and Wagers, puzzling (Pete's jam), or painting a watercolor (surprisingly one of Ted's jams this year), kayaking steadily or jet skiing real fast (hello Lily and Meryl)...we're together. We play hard, eat well,  sleep as little as possible and take a gazillion pictures. Every day begins on the screen porch with the humming birds and ends around the kitchen table candles lit and wine poured all of us together. In between we swim, sun, ski, boat, tube and at last we soak. We had heart to hearts (Meryl's deep questions), loads of laughs (rowing the full boat across the lake after it died), holy moments (the humming birds playing in  the trees, the eagles flying right overhead, stargazing on the pier, sunsets in the boat on the water, hearing nature's yips and hoots and howls), time to disconnect and recharge (getting lost in a book, cloud watching on the island, or listening to the wind rustle through the birch trees).

One of my highlights is celebrating my birthday in this special place with my peeps. I love waking up  in the company of my family knowing that we have the whole day, and in this case, most of the week to not so much celebrate me, although that happened, but to celebrate this tribe we're blessed to be a part of. 

I have very positive juju for this next year for me and for my family. We are happy and healthy and grateful. We are all in good places surrounded by good people, and what's more...we know it. Appreciate it. Honor it.

At 54, I can say that I am content. All I want is more of this. Please. Thank you. Amen.