sometimes a towel is not just a towel..

 

We've had the same set of bright striped beach towels for eighteen years. My mom bought everyone in the family their own signature color combo for our last annual family lake vacation. Her towel went mostly unused. She slept the better part of the week away. Her body was betraying her and I can only imagine the state of her spirit after being told days before that there was nothing more to do, but enjoy her final weeks. It was a missive we all found daunting, but we tried. We tried for Lily and Teddy who were 4 and 7 at the time. We tried for my mom who was equal parts stoic and scared as she was slipping away. We tried for our own self-preservation because life in those final, fragile weeks was a fever dream. One we hoped and prayed to wake up from. There would be no Thank God...that was just a dream though.

My memories of that week at Power's Lake are complicated. No shit! I just scrolled through the pics to find the image above and I don't trust our smiles we wore. I viscerally remember the unbearable pain behind them. The remnants of which are just one of the samskaras I own.

I held on to those towels because in some way I felt my mom was still with us. They were an homage to her and her beloved family lake vacays. But eventually they were misplaced or retired and only three remained. Today I decided it was time to order new beach towels, and I'm telling you it was not an easy decision.

I miss my mom but a towel is not going to change that. 

 

Mom's towel with one of the hats she wore to protect her bald head that week. 

What is True?

 Do the things in your story really happen?

 Isn't that the question when it comes to life? 

Did this really happen to me?

~Lidia Yuknavitch  

I got home yesterday right before the skies opened up and the rain came down. That was the perfect invitation to lay down and pick up my book. The Chronology of Water is as heavy as the sodden air, and I'm okay with that. I like an afternoon storm and a broody read especially together. Memory is at the center of this memoir...the things we remember, the unreliability of our memories, the hold they have on us and the way we can harness their power. And then, of course, there is the whole discussion about what does it matter how or what exactly happened if it makes us feel a certain way.

This is the kind of story that must be taken in small doses. It's raw and painful, and provocative. I closed my eyes after a while and confronted a far away memory I know is incomplete. It's a pivotal part of who I am so many years later. Some missing parts came to me. These pieces brought with them a welcome wave of peace even as I still have holes. We are the sum of so many parts plenty unknown to us. We take what we can get.

I often ask myself what do I know to be absolutely true. This is an existential question that is worth exploring but almost impossible to answer...at least for me. Truth is absolute and so little in this life is unadulterated, pure, outright. 

  

Lightning Can Strike Twice

Sometimes all we need is popcorn for dinner and a cathartic cry. I bought last minute tickets last night for the movies. On Tuesday, tix are discounted and popcorn is free. It's a no brainer except we've been watching so much television these days and even when the price is right most blockbusters are lackluster these days and my own family room is so damn comfy. Anyway...Mike and Lils were a definitive yes so we went and I'm so glad we did. Song Sung Blue was a little gem of a story that hits very close to home. I have been in Lightning and Thunder's audience on more than one occasion. I smiled and laughed through the first third as did most of the theater, I sang and danced in my seat the second third and I ugly cried through the last third not just because it was heartbreaking, but also because it was beautiful even if not very accurate. The ending was sad, but not hopeless, and I have to admit that I'm glad Marty Supreme was sold out because this love story was more fitting for my craving for emotional depth. Even Lily who really only knows Sweet Caroline thanks to the UW marching band, gave the film rave reviews. Mike too.

Sometimes we watch to tune out. Others to tune in. To feel and remember what it means to be alive. Pathos has it's purpose. It's a good reminder and without it we wouldn't know bathos.

That's enough for me. 

Happysad

Today I knew it was fall. When Gus and Hazel came to bed very early this morning, they were cool to the touch. We finally caved and turned on the heat even though they wear warm and permanent coats. I finally had to cave and put on real shoes. The sun didn't shine all day long and the first breath of morning air was so crisp it warmed my bones. I've been patiently waiting for a day like this...gray so the changing trees pop, chilly enough for for a sweater and a mug of afternoon tea, but still nice for a brisk end of day walk. It was good to clear my head and get in some steps and to be reminded of how good it is to do so.

Last night we celebrated our 30th anniversary. We kept the fanfare to a minimum opting for a toast, some well aged cheese, and a quiet night at home together. A little outing is in the works for the weekend, but the truth is, it's the extraordinary ordinary I cherish about the life we live together. Thirty is only a milestone because it's one more year than twenty-nine. That is to say that every year is it's own landmark, and each day an event.

We are in this new empty nester place. I tell newbies that it's not so bad. I can say that because my kids are connected and close in proximity. This past weekend Casa Wags was good and full. Lily and her roomies were home for a memorial for another roommate's mother. Circumstance aside and cancer be damned, I was happy to have them and to be the hub. I made an overflowing crock of tortilla soup and Mike made queso. They gathered around the kitchen island and then retired to the family room to watch the Brewer's last chance. Mike and I retreated to the little sitting area in our room to give them some space. I love this corner of our room where we have our Edith and Archie arm chairs and an ottoman to share...a cat on each lap. Gus and Hazel needed a little break from Manny and Murphy who arrived the night before. On that front, Murph's introduction to the gang was mostly seamless. Our two were a tad out of joint, but there were enough toys and commotion to distract her, and well, Manny is the man and nothing bothers him.

The service was Saturday afternoon on the most beautiful gift of a day. Dawn touched countless people with her kindness. That lead to a full church and a school reunion as she was a consummate volunteer even while she was fighting for her life. The eulogies were heartfelt and beautifully celebrated the person she was. It was good to be with so many honoring her too short life. 

Sunday was dreary and chilly as if on cue. I saw the girlies off early with what was left of the soup and orchard apples and all the bakery they didn't eat. And always toilet paper. Sunday was slow going just as it should be. Ted and Meryl arrived just in time for the Packer game hungry after a weekend of traveling for a wedding. Lucky for them I had the fixings for choriqueso and their favorite couch. Getting to spend quality time with all the kiddos and kittos last weekend filled me up. A full house is a happy house and the longer I live, the more that rings true. 

 

October 2...A Sad One

 

The sun didn't make sense this morning after I read Lily's text. Her close friend and roomie lost her mother overnight. We knew it was imminent, but I know all too well that we can never be prepared for a loss of this magnitude. It levelled me when I was forty. K will turn twenty-two tomorrow. My heart is breaking for her. Them.

For some reason I was overcome with emotion when I saw a crane in flight. Maybe it was my skyward gaze, the majestic bird flying alone, or the song in cue:

Our love turns to rust

We're beaten and blown by the wind
Blown by the wind
Oh, and I see love
See our love turn to rust
Oh, we're beaten and blown by the wind
Blown by the wind
Oh, when I go there
I go there with you

It's all I can do 

I ugly cried my way to work as I sang out of tune. For some reason the car is my ground zero. 

Seventeen years and three days ago was a similarly sunny day. I remember feeling the incongruity of the sky's brightness and the dark cloud that was my stark new reality. Life as usual felt like a personal assault on my grief. I couldn't fathom laughing, singing, playing, just enjoying life again, but slowly, shyly I did. This loss isn't about me, and yet I am feeling it viscerally. 

Today is a sad day.

A Few Words That Mean A Lot

I stopped at the store on my home this evening for some essentials: baby food for Gus who we're fattening up after recent sickies, chocolate milk, spinach and eggs. My diet is strange when I'm solo. I'm solo. Mike is at a work event this week and my aunt left yesterday. I cried when I dropped her off. She did too. Not knowing when we'll be together again makes me blue, but a trip to Arizona is in our very near future. We just have to plan it. I drove through the city after parting and one song after another seemed cued up just to keep the flood gates open. I welcomed the tears. Seventeen years ago Sunday was the last time I saw my mom. Last night Jess wanted to know if I had any signs this week. I couldn't say yes. I couldn't say no. I've been too preoccupied with eeking out every minute of family time to receive anything less than a lightning bolt, and that's the way it should be. Here. Now. And it goes without saying that my mom is always on my mind and in my heart.

It helped that after all the togetherness...Ted and Meryl came Sunday in time for the Packer game and food. The choriqueso was ready when they arrived and we ate it all up. They curled up on their couch for the length of the game including overtime. I sent them home with all the leftovers and food I didn't get the chance to cook last week and that made us all happy. Our team didn't win. They tied, but we had fun cheering and arm chair QBing.

Lils and I connected last night. She was in La Crosse for Oktoberfest so she did not get any Loie time. We didn't get any Lily time. Next time. Senior year is off to a happy start. I don't know that she's thinking in lasts. I hope not, but I am. It's the way I'm wired. Lily is living life right now to the fullest and that brings me big huge joy. Contact joy. Yes, I live vicariously once in awhile. As parents, it's our right to bask in their happiness as if it's our own.

Tomorrow is my frister Candace's birthday. She was one of my mom's closest, most true friends. Not long ago she sent me this picture that puts the biggest smile on my face. I'd never seen it. Both of these chicas are such a gift and presence in my life. Happy birthday Candace! Hoping you are surrounded by love and light Mom. You are both guiding lights in my life and with all my heart I love you ladies. 

 

wtf?

It's been a strange stretch of days. I didn't see anyone or leave the house for days and that's the way I wanted it. Honestly...the way I needed it. The senseless events of the last week affected me viscerally. Charlie Kirk's murder was an outright attack on our first amendment rights, on Democracy and decency. I was rendered speechless by the brutal slaying. Then the lack of humanity shown by so many in the public eye and trolls hiding behind their screens on social media in the wake of the attack, made me sick to my stomach. This is very dangerous territory we are approaching and I fear for outcomes I cannot breath life to. So I'm mad and sad and scared that we are okay with violence against people with whom we disagree and comfortable with evil when we feel it is warranted. From where I sit, murder is never to be condoned and evil must always be abated.

But truth be told...the world's felt extra weighty for weeks. September so often does. It's already full of landmines so I cannot explain why I decided to go through boxes of mementos...letters, cards, pictures and decades worth of journals. I have decades of journals, but I didn't get through a single year. My teenage girl penmanship takes time to decipher, but it's also emotionally draining to go back...sometimes hilarious and often cringy too! It's such a clear reminder that given the chance, I'd stay right where I am.

Years ago, I decided I would read my journals chronologically. I didn't get very far before rethinking that endeavor. Well, I'm going to try again. Hey, at least I'm reading. In full disclosure...it may take me a year, but I'm committed to read before burning. There will be a fire.

So where am I? What's next? Who are we? How do we move forward? So many questions and very few answers, and that's why I'm hog-tied, tongue-tied and in knots.

On My Mind Monday

 Always go to the funeral means that I have to do the right thing when I really, really don't feel like it. I have to remind myself of it when I could make some small gesture, but I don't really have to and I definitely don't want to. I'm talking about those things that represent only an inconvenience to me, but the world to the other guy. You know, the painfully under-attended birthday party. The hospital visit during happy hour. The Shiva call for one of my ex's uncles. In my humdrum life, the daily battle hasn't been good versus evil. It's hardly so epic. Most days, my real battle is doing good versus nothing.

~ Deidre Sullivan

It's The Eve Eve

 

Which means that tomorrow is Christmas Eve, a day that made Kathy McGurk very happy. My mom was always generous, never short on celebrating and she loved spoiling us all. She made the most delicious tenderloin (well, eventually that was relegated to my husband), knew the perfect Santa to come make the magic for the kids and she had a mesmerizing carol voice as she crooned her way to Christmas. I'm feeling her vividly this Christmas and that is just one of the reasons for my quiet. I find I no longer have words for my grief. The sadness feels redundant, indulgent, ethereal and omnipresent. Know those adjectives were carefully chosen.

So here we are feeling the nostalgia, the anticipation and also the magical moments that always define the spirit of the season. This here is the heart of it all and I'm not ready for it to start let alone end.

Leaving work early today to finish baking and driving home in a surprising squall upped my Christmas spirit. I had no idea snow was in the forecast. The white stuff...it didn't stick, but it was such a pretty backdrop from my kitchen window as I mixed and rolled. I got a box of love this weekend...delicious love. My aunt sent us all our favorites from her Arizona kitchen. It was a delicious way of staying connected even though we won't be together in person this holiday.

 

I'll be paying it forward. Cookies for neighbors even those that don't celebrate Christmas because we all understand peace and good will and sprinkles. A tin for the lovely Lena who bags our groceries every week. One for the FedEx guy. The mailman too.

Pot pies as well. I was busy in the kitchen yesterday. Alan had surgery last week. Pot pie is a magic healing elixir especially when accompanied by homemade bread and Irish butter. I dropped off a little care package today and I know that he and Karen are feeling my good wishes tonight as they enjoy the meal I made. Another Christmas spirit boost. 

This time each year I lean into letting every single person I can know that they are special to me. I think that's why this month goes too fast...I don't have the days to connect with or thank all the peeps I want to. 

Okay I'm getting a little groovy. My Christmas spirit went into overdrive Friday when we had a family date downtown. We posed in front of the Pfister tree and I had heart pangs missing Cousin Carol who loved this iconic Milwaukee venue. Blu was a lovely spot for a cocktail before dinner at Zarlettis, a place that reminds me of my mom. Brad and Ashley hosted dinner and it was just a warm, cozy night of festivities and family. Ted's declared it a new family holiday tradition. Swanky boozy holiday dinner is definitely a thing. We dropped Ted off at an establishment to meet up with friends and the rest of us came home to cuddle cats and watch The Family Stone. Lily had never seen it. She loved it.

Another highlight of the weekend was a spontaneous Sunday afternoon visit with my mother and brother-in-law. The timing was perfect because...hello, cookie delivery and pot pie making. It was perfect to send them home with dinner and dessert because #foodislove. And it was kismet because we talked about inviting them and then got busy busy busy being busy, which we all know is not the best way to celebrate Christmas. I'm channeling my inner chill.

Tomorrow we will go to mass and I'm expecting that to be the pinnacle of my holiday happiness. We'll have a drink with the Sweeney's before driving home along the lake front to spectate all the lights. As a family, we decided on a simple make and bake pasta dish, garlic bread and a salad. That'll allow more time for fun and games. It's our tradition to do presents Christmas morning, but we may do them Christmas Eve. It seems the year to mix things up.

My parents will come for Christmas Day brunch. I don't have a decided upon menu yet, but we have a ham and there will be cookies so there's that. I told them to come in their pjs. Mike wrapped all the gifts, but I've yet to ribbon and bow them. I just may not. Ted's birthday gift is in the basement somewhere. I was going to order his favorite French silk pie, but he leaves for San Diego the day after and... dozens of cookies. There's always Valentines Day. 

Merry Christmas! Love and peace to all! Enjoy an extra cookie, say yes to the hot toddy, get in the family picture, sing loud and clear for all to hear and remember the reason for the season.

 

Weekending

We just got home from a before dinner walk on what feels like a perfect summer night. The path is lined with leaves thanks to the warm breeze that's blowing. The sun slipped away around mile 2 leaving us in the dark. In a couple weeks, it will be dark before we set out as we march toward solstice. I'm a broken record, but honestly won't someone stop this train. Tell me you know that John Mayer song? It's one of his best.

               *********************************

We're at Little Hills Lake floating around on rafts on a sunny day. Ted is three and just happy to sit on the water cycle aka jet ski even though it's tethered to the pier and not going anywhere. Charlie's content at Nanny's feet part of the party and dry. Soon we'll climb the ten flights of stairs for gloaming on the deck. We all got swimmer's itch, the rocks in the shallows rubbed our feet raw, it was hotter than Hades and we had no air, my brother was almost decapitated by the ceiling fan in the middle of the night (he was Ted's bunk mate), and yet it was THE best week of the year. No inkling of Lily on the way or Nanny's limited time. So scared of getting older. I'm only good at being young.

         ****************************

We rolled into Madison Saturday morning and were immediately accosted by the 5 story naked Trump hung from a crane on the way into campus. That folks is the definition of deplorable, but it didn't dampen my mood because I believe this kind of distasteful antic exposes the real anti-democracy in our midst. No I'm not colorblind. I know the world is black and white.The streets are abuzz for Homecoming and driving through town is like a moving reel of all the once were and has beens. So many ghosts, but only a few goblins. We were in Madison for some time with Lily's friends and their parents. It was a fun day with a great group of people...some new, some known, and always far fewer than six degrees of separation between us a fact I find comforting. I felt old. I am old. So I play this numbers game to find a way to say that life has just begun. 

               ***********************************

We graduated and got season tickets along with all of our friends...his, mine and soon enough just ours. We never missed a game without good reason for the better part of a decade. It seems like yesterday and also forever ago. How is this possible? To be so close and so far away. Try to keep an open mind. I just can't sleep on this tonight. 

            ***************************

We didn't stay for the game and were home by halftime to watch from our den. We had a room and may have scored some tickets, but I knew the pre-game would be enough. And while a small part of me wanted to stay, it was the right choice to head home. Enough is such an interesting, self realized concept. The girls were toast after the game anyway. Stop this train. I want to go home again.

                                                    **************                                           

Sunday we woke up refreshed and mostly ready to go. We had to make a candy run because I brought what I had for the girls. Mums, pumpkins and pumpkin bars too. Chicken, cold brew, and homemade vinaigrette as well. Trick or treaters were out in force and it made my heart happy to see all the kids who have moved into the neighborhood in the last few years running around in bands. I may or may not have dressed up like a kitty. My brother and sister in law came late afternoon to watch our other team...the Packers, and I finally got to make them my new star recipe...smash-burger tacos that are a serious game changer. Ted came home from a day of football with the boys. We played some cards and caught up. His CPA exam went well. Don't stop this train. Don't for a minute change the place you're in.

John honestly we'll never stop this train.

 

This Week

Wednesday is my least favorite day. I'm ready for the weekend, but smack dab in the middle of the week. That being said at this time and place in my life, I don't find myself longing for the weekend very often. This week I am.

I think this has everything to do with my lack of chi right now. I feel like I'm spinning my wheels. I need to get centered, to find balance, to quiet my mind. I need to exercise. That's what's missing. 

Another piece of my zen puzzle is reading and that's something that's been absent from my life for way too long. I picked up a book I started at Webb Lake last summer that I haven't touched in the 12 months since that vacation. Tom Lake was still familiar. That fact is proof that Ann Patchett is a character artist. I will finish it before the end of this summer in a few days. Then I'm going back to finish the book I started in Mexico earlier this year. I've got a nice stack of almost reads piled on my bedside table that could take me through the end of the year.

I can attest that getting my groove back in the kitchen has been a good thing. With Teddy home, I up my game because he is maybe the most appreciative and voracious eater in the house. He can and does cook for himself and sometimes us, but I love to cook for him. This week's wins were potato chip chicken fingers, croquet  madam pizza and smashburger tacos.

This is a tricky week for me. My Mom's birthday is Saturday and while I feel somewhat at peace with her passing, I am still sad. It's not paralyzing or debilitating. It's like a constant ringing in my ears. It's distracting and I want it to go away. I know now that it never will and many of you know that too. It just is. It is what it is. It's a marker of time passing, seasons changing and life marching onward in spite of missing parts. Missing, but not forgotten.

This week is also a bit of a reset for me especially in the years since my mom's untimely death. It's not just the back to school and the change in seasons...it's the before and after. It's more a point of reflection for me than my birthday or the start of the new year.

I did an illuminating exercise in my 20s that prompted me to define the pivotal, defining events in my life. The first was my parent's divorce when I was four. There were about seven. I'd say thirty years later there are no less than twenty. Losing my mom was a big one.

This week I'm going to be kind to myself. I'm going to lean into vulnerability and let myself wallow a bit, but I'm also going to look for the everyday joy moments and remember to say thank you for this life that is full of much more light than darkness. More love than loathe, more laughter than tears, more tribulation than trial. And I'm going to do so remembering the woman who gave me this life. What a gift...life...her. My Mom.

Lately

 

I'm back to insularity. I think I know why, but I'm not ready to go there yet. I'm also hoping and praying that I don't have to. What I do want to put the shine on is simply the extraordinary ordinary of every day life right here, right now. I'm channeling presence and always gratitude. Together they are the secret sauce for getting through the day with a happy heart. So while I've been quiet, I have also been content.

I came home from work one day last week and snuggled in bed with my Hazel girl. It's our routine and so I'm trying to keep up with the rather demanding schedule she expects. It's grueling to come home and crawl into bed with her for a half hour. The windows were open and letting in the sweetest breeze. We relaxed in relative silence. That girl purrs like a puffing chuffing steam train. And of course there were the expected sounds of a summer afternoon: kids playing, dogs barking, a lawnmower humming away, a siren in the distance, the whir of the ceiling fan and the sad perch coo of a mourning dove in the yard. I fell into a deep meditation and emerged with a clear mind. It was better than a nap. I'm not good at quieting my monkey mind, but I now think I should give regular meditation another go.

I'm dealing with the end of a long-standing friendship that was important to me for decades. I don't know why. I don't really think it's me, but every night I'm back in high school in my dreams feeling all the teenage angst so as far as my subconscious is concerned, the burden and blame are mine. I'm doing something uncharacteristic. I've stopped reaching out and I'm letting it go. It feels a little bit like a death. I know it sounds dramatic, but I'm grieving. 

I'm mad and I'm sad and I miss my friend, but I'm also feeling beaten down and bruised. Then I thank God for the handful of girlfriends that are my chosen sisters. Btw, she was one of them. And I know my mom was right when she said, we are lucky to count our soul sisters on one hand. Friendships take time and attention. Those are finite resources.

So lately I've been thinking about reaching out to an old friend. We were thick as thieves for years. She was wicked smart and just as funny. We were Thelma and Louise. I know why our friendship cooled. I was married with little children and she was footloose and fancy free. I'm mulling over what I would say and also trying to parse out if I really miss her or I just want to fill that finger.

That being said, I was grateful that Sue reached out this week to get together. We had a long overdue catch up, wine night Thursday. Then Jess called yesterday and came for an impromptu dinner. She knows I have been a homebody so she came to me. I'm blessed they're both fingers.

I Chose Light

A major wrench was thrown in my quest for merriment. Exactly one week ago, I found out that my step-mom, my second mom, was in the hospital waiting to have open heart surgery. I was in disbelief because she's not exactly an obvious candidate, but I was not shocked because I was waiting for something...I just didn't know what, who. The low level anxiety I've been plagued with, finally made sense. You see, I recognize that I am an empath and because I am wired that way I often know things before I know them. Or rather, I feel them.

The good news is that Judy is 3 days post surgery and already out of the ICU. She may even be home before Christmas and while the holiday will be a little different this year, our family has been given the only gift that matters.

There have been many..too many...reminders of life's fragility lately. I've been weary and worn, but no more. Today on the longest day of the year, I am choosing light.

The house is feeling more festive now that Lily (and all her gal pals) are home. After a night out, they woke me up in today's wee morning hours. I could smell the after-bar kitchen concoctions and then hear them giggling, but I wasn't angry. They are just so happy to be back together and I'm happy that they are hanging out at Casa Wags.

Ted will be home tomorrow. He proctored his exam today. His students gave him a card that said Mr. Wagehaupt. I get as much of a kick out of my Teddy being called Mr. as I do out of the fact that his students gave him a card. I never...not once...thought to give one of my TAs a card. While they were crunching numbers, T. was online Christmas shopping. I didn't have the heart to tell him that I doubted any of his gifts would arrive by Sunday because this Christmas our motto is...it is what it is. And whatever that is...is good as long as we are together.

I've taken stock of my baking supplies, without a batch to show for it. I'm hoping to make just a few faves for us and to share with our neighbors who are likely waiting for their annual goodies. I thought I was finished shopping after a couple stops today, but I'll make one more stop for a few last minute things. We celebrate Saturday with the Wags family and then we'll see what the rest of the holiday weekend brings. I'll be looking for the joy moments and bright spots because I know in my heart they will be there in abundance.

Thanksgiving Eve

I'm finally relaxing with a glass of wine and SNL skits from Thansgivings past. It was a busy day of work and errands and holiday prep, and I only have to bring a tart. As a hostess gift, I'm bringing my parents a breakfast basket for the day after when they surely won't feel like cooking. Someone once did that for me and I remember what an unexpected treat it was. I hope they feel the love in the naughty breakfast casserole and homemade pastries.

Cooking for others brings me immense joy, but I have to admit that I'm a little out of practice. I was really glad that I had a big pot of chili for the kids' staggered arrivals last night: 7 o'clock for Lils and just shy of midnight for Ted and Meryl. They're all out tonight catching up with friends. I'm quite content to be home, but I remember how much fun it was to see old friends and crushes.

I'm happiest that they are all home. I slept so soundly last night with them tucked in their beds down the hall. Especially now with all of the pain and suffering humans are inflicting on humans. And while I'm always thankful for the blessings that are mine, it's a challenge to not have a heavy heart. So what I'm trying to say not very eloquently is that my heart is happysad. I'm aware that my happiness is not guaranteed or everlasting or enough or everyone's.

Tomorrow I'll be the first one up. I'll have my coffee with the parade and my mom. It's my time...our time. The kids are going on a turkey trot and Mike and I will take a walk before we make our way to my parent's for turkey two ways, too many sides, a million unfinished conversations, a dozen family photos where no one is looking and more importantly an abundance of tradition and togetherness. I'm 100 percent good with that.

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!

week ending and beginning

I was up at the crack butt of dawn again today. It's 7:30 and I already logged my miles. I'm happy to be here now to log some words. Gus is sitting here eating the cat friendly bouquet Meryl sent us. (Yes, there is such a thoughtful thing!) You could tell me there's a better way to start the day, but I wouldn't believe you. 

Driving home from the Amtrak earlier, I noticed that all my fellow travelers were wearing safety green or neon yellow. Tis' the season. There is construction on nearly every road I use and routes change by the day. It used to frustrate me, but I've since accepted it. There are bigger fish on my mind than physical infrastructure. Things like democracy and mental health and the fact that my grass is hay and it's not even summer yet.

It's a cool, misty morning so the trails were lonely. We need the rain and, truthfully, I prefer it that way: gray, temperate and quiet. I listened to the first episode of The Other Latif on the first leg of my walk and Eric Church on the second. The podcast is a good recommendation from the young people in my life. Eric Church is always a good choice. I'm starting to get excited for his show next week.

On Friday we said goodbye to my brother-in-law in a manner I know Mark would have approved of: no pomp, no circumstance. My mother-in-law has a tribe and they all showed up. They always do and I've always envied that big bursting clan. Friday I realized that these are my peeps too. The best part of the night is when the immediate family gathered around my mil's table and told Mark stories. The lights flickered a couple times. He was with us.

Saturday I realized to my core how much we're all going to miss him. We had a pizza pool party and he always loved a party. My husband and the kids (who now that I think about it are all young adults) played a very competitive game of Marco Polo. I could see Mark getting in on the fun. The two of them would have dominated and taken every opportunity to gloat about their prowess even at this stage of life.

It was hard to say goodbye Saturday eve because there is comfort in being together. Once we all go our separate ways, life goes on. How can life go on?

It can and it does. 

On Sunday Jess and I had our last musical of the season. We saw Tootsie. I cannot say I was looking forward to it, but it was light and cute and just what I needed. I came straight home after and watched AFHV and continued to lol while Mike and Lils made dinner.

Ted was back from his weekend travels first thing Monday morning. This is his second week of commuting. We're just grateful he only has to go into the city three times a week. Lils started her summer camp duties this week. She has a group of mostly sweet four and five year olds, the sweetest being Romeo, but of course. 

I'm finally starting to get in some kind of groove...a very loosey goosey groove. That's exactly the kind of routine that speaks summer: flexible, forgiving, with a focus on fun.

.

A Short Post

Walking through the woods yesterday afternoon, I remembered meeting someone on the trail Tuesday morning. I came upon a man sitting on a bench with his two dogs. Not just any dogs, but schnauzers: the breed my husband grew up with. He stood as I approached and assured me that they were friendly. I noticed right away that he looked like my brother in law. He had the same build, kind eyes and friendly demeanor. He was also wearing a cap and a flannel shirt. I stopped to pet them for a minute and then wished him a good day. He watched me walk away. Something about that encounter felt familiar. I'm not saying it was Mark, but I'm also not saying it wasn't.

Firsts and Lasts and In Betweens

 

I just returned from an early morning walk on this cool, broody day. The trail is flush with sweet smelling phlox right now. Today was day 2 of Ted's commute to Chicago for work. I was up and out of the house by 5:30 to get him to the Hiawatha. I went back and forth between going back to bed the whole way home. Obviously, the healthier choice won thanks to one beaut of a sunrise. It won today. That won't always be the case, but I'll take my small victories when warranted.

I'm not much of a morning person these days, but I swear I have the best convos with my kids in the car so I'll take my driving duties without complaint. When I picked Ted up last night, he looked so the part: grown up, professional, confident, competent. I heard all about his first day back in the office and was reminded of so many first days.

That's a bit of a touchy subject right now. My brother-in-law took his last breath less than a week ago. It was sudden and heart breaking and completely devastating for the whole family. I'm not prepared to write about the tragedy right now, but it is enough to know that we are all feeling his pain. I pray he's at peace. He was such a kind soul, selfless and good. He took care of everybody, but himself.

The sadness and regret are heavy and constant, but we are holding one another tighter and longer than usual. We're also being more thoughtful, forgiving and grateful. If that's Mark's legacy, it's one he would certainly be proud of.

I think it's worth mentioning that the weekend was full of almost as many laughs as tears. I'm well versed in the way grief presents itself as a double edged sword. The sharp pains of sadness remind us of the absolute sanctity of moments of levity. The ache of loss reminds us of the power of plenty. It wasn't an easy choice to keep our Saturday might commitment, but it was a good one. It was, after all, a full circle moment celebrating Ted and O, our accomplished graduates. They've grown up together since the very beginning. Ted joined Olivia just days after her welcome to the world. We had a special dinner at the Capital Grille and then the guys surprised us with a stop at their guy's night haunt, The Thirsty Fox. Our high brow night turned low brow and it was sort of just what we needed...Who Let the Dogs Out and grenades. Night caps and a competitive game of Quiplash back at Casa Wags was the perfect last stop.

Sunday my brother and sister-in-law came for dinner to show us the love and support we so needed. They invited us, but I wanted to be home. Keeping busy in my kitchen was a good thing. So was comfort food: Chicken Parm, pasta, garlic bread with lots of butter. We played another few rounds of Quiplash. Gus was a frequent answer, and again it was good to have some fun even in this season of sadness. We know loss because we know love. It's as simple and tragic and beautiful as that.