And Just For a Moment....

Today is Saturday, December 10.  I've had a bad week in that I've been down with bronchitis. Otherwise, doing my best to fight the good fight.  Consequently there is a lot to be done today, and before the snow came, the first on my list was to hit the grocery before it got really crazy.  A funny thing happened in the aisles of the grocery store this morning.  The Christmas music was playing, peppermint mocha coffee creamer, eggnog and candy cane ice cream were stocked.  The store was full of poinsettias, red and green decor, harried shoppers and all the merchandise that the holidays demand.  And before I knew it, I was filling my cart with things that I haven't purchased in a very long time.  Without even being aware, I began preparing for the holiday.  After I left the grocery, I hit the bakery for challah and then went to the meat market for their really good summer sausage, none of which was on my list or planned for.  All the while I'm behaving as I have for 30+ years prior to this.  Just like my life was as it had been and that I would be entertaining, cooking, baking, hustling, bustling and preparing.  I was in auto-pilot and it was amazing.

It hit me in the drive through at McDonald's getting coffee what had just happened.  The girls at the window weren't sure whether to smile or not as they saw the tears on my cheeks.  I smiled.  It had been fun, just for an hour to live like it all was the same, would all be the same.  Would that my husband be at home to help me unload my car and that my phone would blow up with texts from my son....oh my, that would make it real.  But that hasn't happened in over two years.  I suppose the worst that happened was that I spent more than I expected to, but am very well stocked for some time to come.  It can snow away and there will be food in my freezer and pantry.  There are no holiday celebrations planned at this house, nor will there be.  I'm not ready to do that.   I don't know what to make of this holiday thing.  People say I'm not alone, and I know that theoretically I'm not.  But it sure feels like I'm alone when I turn the lights out at night and climb into an empty bed.  It feels alone more than it feels filled.  I'm working on it, and have a huge blog to write about how that's going at another time.  But today, I'm a lonely widow and mother with enough food to get me by till the first of the year at least.  Life could be worse.  And for about an hour, it was a lovely gift to just feel as if I belonged in the thick of things again!

How the Fall Becomes Autumn

It's been a good while since I've written.  I've been busy and life has been getting in the way.  Who knew?  I didn't know if that was going to be possible again, but it's true.  I have so much that I've learned in the past few months.  I'm almost to the two year mark of my widowhood.  As much as I wish it was just yesterday that I was able to hear my dear husband's voice, hold his strong hand, and have a kiss good night, I have to say that I no longer think it would be worth reliving the painful path of these past two years.  Same goes for Adam.  No, I've not gotten bitter, nor have I quit loving either of them.  I'm learning to clear the leaves that fall in my path, the litter that death leaves to trip you up, and to make my way with my eyes more focused.  In doing so, it leaves me more time to soak up the autumnal beauty and reflect on another year about to come to a close.

I've learned that I can survive on my own.  I have enough money to keep our little house and if I'm careful, indulge in occasional pleasures.  Initially I didn't know if even that would be possible.  I can sleep through the night and not be afraid.  I've accomplished some tasks I never anticipated managing and am learning how to ask for help or to hire people to manage others.  So, yes, I can live without a man in my life.  I don't know if I want to, however, yet I don't really know if I want one either!  I do miss having someone to travel with, to enjoy a sunset with, to hold my hand for no reason, and to comfort me when I am sad, and laugh with me at all the silly things in life.

I've found that I have a support system that is as massive and complex as mass transit.  They come from every corner of this country and from all walks of life and circumstances.  There are some I see and hear from more often than others, but that doesn't mean they matter less.  Each person I now have in my life is there purposefully and by my choice.  I've had to make some hard decisions in that arena in a very few instances and it was hard.  It's hard, just as a wife and mother who has spent their entire life doing what was necessary for their children and spouse to think about putting herself first.  But that's exactly what is necessary; my son, his wife and Adam's widow don't need me to supervise their lives - they do quite well on their own - which is exactly as it should be.  Their lives are far less complicated if I am doing well on my own and we have lots more fun and healthier visits if I'm doing what is good for me, as they are doing for themselves.  The point is that I want them to WANT me, not to need me, and I think that we're there.  I love each of them dearly and their children, my grandchildren, are absolutely the delight of my life.

My sisters are a true witness to the wonderful family my parents created.  Our parents put us first at every turn and my sisters are equally generous in their absence, being intuitive, honest, loving and always there.  The legacy is long, but they do it very proud.  Well done, Mom and Dad.

Girlfriends.  They are as necessary in my life as the air I breathe.  I am spending time with friends I've had for 53 years, along with those I just met last summer.  Women are strong, resilient, soft and caring.  The best friends I have never tell me what to do, but help me find my way to clarity to make good decisions.  They stand by even when I'm not necessarily functioning on all cylinders or worrying over something totally unnecessary.  Without being hurtful, they have an amazing knack for steering me back to the sidewalk of reason that is far more easy to walk than the emotional path.  And I'm far too much of a klutz to take any risky trails.

There are also wonderful men in my life - many family members, and some just good buddies.  It's nice to have a man's perspective, his advice on when the tires look as if they need to be replaced, a little sports talk to keep me current and just a strong arm around my shoulder from time to time.

I do not have less pain at the loss of my husband and son.  It will always be there.  I'm learning to walk with the limp, to clear the path, to manage the pain.  I didn't know if it would ever be possible, and there are still moments that take me to my knees, in prayer and despair at never looking into their eyes or hearing their voices, or getting one of their hugs.  But I have a life to be lived.  I have people to love, experiences to enjoy, stories to tell and fun to be had.

I'm beginning to have some idea about where I want to eventually land, but I need to work a little while longer, so we're just going to let my new chapter unfold.  I'm going to get up, put my best self on, be glad for a new day to experience new things and to remember the precious past.  I will be steadfast in my quest.  God has surprised me, but He has not let me down yet.  Between those who have surrounded me from near and far and the legacies left by those I've loved and lost, I will make this trip.  I will not fall - I will bloom with color and majesty for all that is mine, for all I have been given.  And I will enjoy my Autumn.

Delayed Reactions aka Just Keep Swimming, Swimming, Swimming.....

I wrote recently about Grief being the Great Dark Hunter.  It truly is.  Fortunately for me, until the last several years, my life was essentially unscathed.  However in the past two years, there has been more pain and grief than I could have imagined.  Losing both my parents by the time I was 49 was difficult at best, but having an amazing husband and sons who helped me through those difficulties made a difference.  And even though their deaths were somewhat untimely, you grow up knowing that it’s very likely that you will be there to bury your parents.  It doesn’t make you miss them or grieve less, but it’s not unexpected.

Although my husband and son both struggled with illness, their deaths were still unexpected when they occurred.  And the fact that they happened literally back to back took me to my knees.  Now, almost 2 years since my husband departed, I am working so hard to be brave, find what my new life has in store.  Yet other circumstances keep rocking my boat.  When you’re grieving, it’s all you can do to focus on what is at hand in the moment.  The ability to look down the road and forecast how you will react to other situations is just not in my skill set right now.  I can only deal with what is at hand, do my best to react and respond logically, appropriately, sensitively and with love.  And while your head knows that is the correct response, your heart is screaming in pain and sometimes even anger.  Carrying that inner conflict and finding a way to soothe it, stroke it, reason through it and resolve it is exhausting.  And typically it is not anything that you share with others.  So you are fighting within yourself to acknowledge your feelings while retaining grace and dignity throughout circumstances and situations that come your way unbidden.  You accept things you never would have dreamed of accepting in life “before” because although it feels as if has caused your heart to break, you realize that it’s only residual feelings.  The heartbreak has already occurred and this is just walking on the broken glass that’s left, crunching it into yet smaller pieces.  And you can do this because you know that no one has intentionally wanted to cause you this pain.  They just don’t know.  And many are finding their own way to cope with the same losses and their way is different than yours.  Not wrong.  Just different.

Realizing that these delayed reactions are going to be part of my life until it ends is another novel situation for me.  It’s hard to guard yourself from the unexpected without becoming bitter, cynical, and angry.  None of those are adjectives I want in a description of myself.  So you are riding the high waves without a life jacket, knowing that you will be able to continue the journey, but do not have the necessary safety gear to keep you afloat 100% of the time.  The silver lining to this is that your swimming skills are now so far beyond what you ever thought possible that you will surface again and again, but you will work harder at it than the average sailor as your life jacket disappeared with your loved one.  However, if you persist, and you don’t carry the weight of the negatives, the pain, the suffering, it will be easier for you to swim the distance alone.  It will also easier for another to help pull you to safety.

It’s not an option for me to not get on the boat.  It’s not an option to avoid the storms.  It’s not even an option to not have the occasional meltdown after sustaining the storm.  My only option is to keep sailing, keep swimming.  One day, I’ll find another safe little harbor with a calm, floating pool that will be restorative and healing.  I just have to continue so I can enjoy it.

Sailing - Takes Me Away to Where I'm Going....

I have no idea where this little installment is going to go, but I have so much rattling around in my head that it definitely is time to sit down at the keyboard again.

I have struggled a bit lately feeling lonely.  No, that's a lie.  I have struggled a LOT lately with feeling lonely.  Situations around me are changing.  People's lives are busy, my house has been less than company-ready so I have not been issuing invitations, kids' schedules are crazy, etc., etc.  As things change, I struggle with insecurity.  Where do I fit in?  How do I fit in?  Should I keep my house or sell my house?  Should I move or stay in Fort Wayne?

This past weekend I was "home" again.  Home for me will always be Sunman, Indiana, and all of the other small communities surrounding it.  The truth is when you live as part of a rural community, you don't think a thing about driving to the next town to see someone or get something or to eat somewhere.  It makes for a wonderfully broad circle.  The minute the hills start to roll as I make my way south, I literally can feel my heart begin to swell within my chest.  My soul is hinting strongly that this is where I belong.  While there is no longer any of my family there, there is a ton of "family" there.  In these communities are people who have known me my entire life.  They knew my parents and sisters, they know my history and it sure feels as if they know my heart.

That's not to say that I don't have incredible friends all across this country.  I do and when I am with them I feel home as well, but those hills, woods, creeks and fields are calling to me.  The first little moral embroidered into a sampler is true; "Home is Where Your Heart Is".  Equally true is "Home is Where Your Story Began" and "There's No Place Like Home".  We have now decorated a lovely vintage, shabby chic bedroom!

This most recent trip was a second annual visit with my female classmates.  Understand that I attended a 3 room Catholic schoolhouse from grades 1 to 8 and had a class census of 12, 3 of which were girls, including myself.  Fortunately, Girl Scouts included the girls from the public school and geography helped me meet more than my two good friends at school.  I still have two friends I remember from kindergarten, but my best friend I met at age 7.  The others came soon after.  We're talking 50+ years of friendship here.  I can't explain how incredible it is to go "back" and find these women to be just who they were those several years ago and how amazingly reassuring that is.  That also creates the sense of home I so yearn for.  Going "home" helps ease my loneliness for a spell for sure.

However, there is still a long, lonely 3 hour drive away from there that must be made as I return to the place where I have made my life.  And overall it has been a good life.  The last three years have been on the rough side, but also not without incredible realizations, genuine personal growth and tremendous comfort from so many directions.  Aside from having two sons that I love beyond definition, I found the true love of my life 13 years ago.  I have written about that love before, so I'll just say again, not only did he love me beyond what I thought possible, but he also healed me.  I will miss him every day of my life.  Originally I thought I would never be interested in having any type of relationship with another man, but as time goes by, I find I miss so much of what a loving relationship brings to your life.  It could be a loving friendship, or grow into more, but I miss having someone who I can go places with, laugh with, share a dinner with, yada, yada, yada.  I believe it's a tribute to the marriage I had that I'm beginning to realize that I'd like to have a man in my life again.  I don't know who, or where or how or when.  But I am realizing that I have love left to give, and want to share that, if it's meant to be.

I ran into an old crush while at home and was absolutely startled at how my heart fluttered when he hugged me.  That hug startled me more than I could say.  Initially because I had no idea how much I have missed being held by a man.  (Don't worry - I don't want to make anyone throw up in their mouth!  I'm not talking about sex, I'm talking about the sweet comfort of a hug, a kiss on the forehead, a caress of the shoulder......that type of thing!  :-)  )  It felt wonderful to be held by someone larger of stature that I had a little bit of history with.  It also just surprised me with the realization that I really did harbor a hope of finding someone, at some time to pass the years with.

It also caused me to take the inevitable, very unflattering self inventory.  I am at least a half person more in size than I was 40 years ago when we knew each other.  He must have wondered where the girl he remembered was buried inside here.  It has caused me to look at my health, my appearance, my energy, my habits, my self worth, my insecurities and my paranoia.  I know that's a lot to lay at the poor guy's feet, but the point is, if I never see him again, I will owe him a big debt of gratitude for motivating me to a new level, into a new arena; one with a sense of purpose and determination.  I know he has no clue that seeing him was that monumental for me (unless my eyes gave it away - but I think I had my sunglasses on - whew!), but one day, if I see him again I will tell him.

And so, for the first time, in a very long time, as I float on my sea of uncertainty in many areas of my life, I think I just found a very safe harbor.  Home, whether I still have a house or family there or not, is a very safe place for me.  And I found a plan to get my own personal little ship ready for a new voyage, hoping to sail under the starry skies with a kindred soul.  And maybe, just maybe, he would slip his arm around me and kiss my hair and be willing to sail along with me for a time.  Wouldn't that be something!

Star Light, Star Bright

Intellectually, it makes no sense to me, that when you are missing someone in your life, that one day has a bigger impact on you than other days, but it seems that sometimes that’s exactly the case.  Dates trigger reminders, reminders trigger memories, good and bad.  The middle of the month has become difficult for me as Dave died on the 12^th and Adam on the 14^th.  This month I am counting 21 and 18 months.  It seems like way too much time since I was able to breathe in their warmth and bask in their smiles.  What I try to do, when I become overcome again with what these losses have created in my life, is to be still and feel their spirits.  Who they were and what they brought to me and to anyone they cared for in their life was a gift that we can carry with us.  We can conjure those wonderful feelings and memories.  It may bring more tears, but I’ve decided that just as anything in our lives, we have to cleanse things so they remain in good condition.  I need to allow this pain, give those feelings a release, so I don’t become angry or bitter or change who I am and who I want to be.  Tears can be cathartic.  It’s good to understand that, whether you are the griever or the one watching feeling helpless.  Know its okay.  Know that, in fact, it’s actually wonderful that I or anyone else you know, was so blessed with incredible relationships, that the loss is felt so deeply.  There are those that go through this life without ever having had anything so profound or real.

I love that we are in the midst of experiencing the Perseid meteor shower.  When I couldn’t sleep last night, I went out on my back patio and took in the night sky.  The sky was deep indigo, and the stars were not just present, they were dancing!  They sparkled and twinkled, shining with effervescence and I even was delighted to see a shooting star in this dazzling spectacle.  Call me a sucker, call me simple, call me whatever you like, but my soul was filled and comforted with the beauty there was to behold.  It was so comforting, as if the heavens were winking at me, and giving me a tiny glimpse of how beautiful and joyful that existence might be.  I could go back to bed and for a change, fall right to sleep, assured that all was just as it should be.

So when I think of my guys, my parents, all my loved ones who are no longer present to us, and when you think of yours,  I hope that our tears are for the joy we are missing and our smiles are because we know just how blessed we have been.   

Twinkle, twinkle little star, I no longer wonder what you are…….Up above the world so high, like a presence in the sky.  Twinkle, twinkle little star, you bring comfort from afar.  

Olympic Training aka Grappling Grief

I haven’t been at this for a while and I feel it.  Whether I publish it or not, I need to get things out, down on paper.  It’s like sweeping all the cobwebs lurking in my mind.  If left in the corner too long, they catch other thoughts within them and they all get tangled up and pretty soon it’s so overwhelming you let the spiders take over.  Okay, well maybe that’s a little extreme for most of the time, but there are days I do feel as if the black creepy things are winning.

This is just such a crazy existence.  20 months ago today my husband kissed me for the last time.  It seems like yesterday.  It seems like forever.  I miss him more as time goes by.  I found this to be true with others who have died that suffered prior to their death, namely my Dad and Grandma.  It took some time for all the good, pretty memories to overcome the sadness, pain, changes and suffering that had been present at the end.  The sudden deaths, such as my mother and son cut like a knife from the start, since no one had an inkling; as if you could prepare anyway if you did.  There is the humane element in hating to watch those you love suffer, and therefore, in the moment maybe it’s a tad easier to let go.  But never fear.  I’m learning that grief is the great dark hunter.  It will come for you.  It will track you down and get you and demand its rightful share of your life.

I have been working hard, trying to embrace it and give it its fair share.  But either grief or I am confused, and I think it’s because I’m doing this dually for Adam and Dave.  I work hard to get past changes I never anticipated; back in the days I was just learning to be able to put words to what had happened to my loved ones and to my life.  It’s like me against a tag team of five; one for Dave, one for Adam, one for the life that I had and loved, one for my parents, and one for the loss that the others in my family feel – for both Dave and Adam.  

I think I may as well understand that I’m just in a tournament with it.  In keeping with the spirit of the summer Olympics, maybe I’ll just create my own event – Grappling Grief.  I say it feels like a tournament because I never know for sure, day to day, exactly how my opponent will present itself, but every day there is some event to contend with.  Some days I’m very strong and can take it down, whenever it shows up.  Of late, after posting morning inspiration on FB for 77 days straight, most days it helped.  If I had a match early in the day, inevitably there would be another sneaky opponent lying in wait for another penciled in match later in the day.  Sometimes I still can best it, and other days it gets the best of me.  And there are still days it feels like I didn’t even show up to play.

I think the Olympics are possibly a good metaphor.  There are lots of events, lots of obstacles, lots of others participating from all walks of life.  We don’t all grieve the same; therefore we don’t always speak the same grief language.  It’s okay.  Our objective is the same, which is to get healthy, to learn how to fully live again in the shadow of our losses, to not win, because this event never ends.  It will be with us forever.  But we learn to compete; not against one another but to measure our own progress and continue to strive for our own personal best.

Now as any good athlete knows, (not me – I don’t have an athletic bone in my body, but I understand the fundamentals and strategies; I was always better in the cheering section – maybe that’s part of my problem!)  to get through this, even though this is an individual event, you need a team around you.  Trainers, doctors, coaches, and the best of all are your fans.  The ones you don’t have to pay, who travel wherever you are to be in attendance supporting you.  Don’t try to be a superstar and go it alone.  You’ll burn out quickly.  You need people.  Hell, we all need people even when we’re not grieving.  But don’t let your pride, or insecurity get in the way.  People want to help.  We need to let them.  This is your time to be nurtured and encouraged.  You will definitely get the opportunity to pay it forward at some time, I guarantee.

I’m just coming off a pretty good run, winning more days than losing.  But doggone it, and then they bump you up to the next level.  You’re not seeded #1 anymore.  You’re #48 and hitting a new level of experiences that you didn’t see coming.  That’s why it’s okay to take some time, rest a bit, and go back to the gym to hone your strengths before you go back to this fight.  Call it a pit stop if you will.  And pretty soon you’ll be eager to bounce out of that gym and tackle the next field. 

I don’t know what sectional/regional/level of competition I’m at right now.  I don’t want to know how deep this field can go.  It might be too overwhelming and I might start to lose hope that I could never achieve the level of success I hope for if I looked at how long the road really is.  So I will take my training and competition schedule one day at a time. 

I can’t promise I’ll be the champion.  I would find that highly unlikely.  I will settle for establishing my own pace that’s comfortable, competitive and hopefully it’s one I can live with.  That’s the goal, to participate.  And there are no winners and losers.  To participate is to win.   

I watched some of the summer Olympic trials and to see the absolute commitment, strength and courage those athletes display was inspirational to me.  If you want to do something badly enough you will.  But you have to work for it; train for it; sacrifice for it.  I’m not ready for the Olympics this summer, but I’m sure going to continue to train to Grapple Grief.  The fitness it will bring, mentally, emotionally and spiritually will be worth every bit of blood, sweat and tears that go into it.  So if you see me, just give me an “Atta girl” as encouragement.  I’ll know what you mean.  And I guarantee I’ll be able to pick up my game just a little bit more.  And thanks, because I have the best fans in the world.  

Anniversaries

Anniversary - a date that is remembered or celebrated because a special or notable event occurred on that date in a previous year.

June 30, 1933:  Birth date of Mary Suzanne Clyne Switzer

June 30, 1944:  Birth date of David Lee Egts

June 30, 2016:  A date to be celebrated more than mourned, for it is the anniversary of the birth of two of the most influential people in my life; two of three people who assured me of unconditional love.  Incredible, beyond my husband and parents, I would have to say that there are even a few more in my life who extend that incredible gift to me, whether I deserve it or not.  It says far more about them than it does me.

So today I need to speak of legacy.  They both left legacies that to me are bigger than life.  If I were to combine their legacies with my dad's and they manifested in cloud form, we would not see the sun from one horizon to the other.  These two individuals, in particular, left amazing examples of how to live.

One of my earliest memories of my mom was juggling.  Not balls or oranges, but life.  She had the ability to juggle running a household, four daughters seven years apart, making do on my father's income as a teacher, sewing, gardening, canning, freezing, hosting family events, participating in a bridge club and being an active member at our church.  She worked tirelessly and the only complaint I remember was after we asked for the 5th time about when we could go play with our friends, she reminded us that it was our responsibility to finish our Saturday chores before play.  And then it was more with a heavy sigh, than a sharp retort.  We knew the rules, and we knew that she stuck to them.  If you waiver as a parent, how does one know that you mean what you're saying?!?!  She was a perfect example of commitment and consistency, therefore stability.

When my youngest sister went to kindergarten, mom went back to work and her ability to juggle was then at a professional level.  She was a teacher.  Over the course of her career she taught math, literature, creative writing, English and Spanish.  She was proficient in each.  Her students often had to keep journals and more than one evening, I would look to see her with tears streaming down her cheeks as she was reading a journal, hurt at what that student was enduring and struggling with in their life.  She didn't just teach, but sponsored many clubs i.e. S.A.D.D., Spanish Club, and the Academic competition team.  She volunteered at our parish in the summer and fall helping to teach migrant children at our Catholic school English as a second language before it became something anyone was familiar with.  She played bridge, she belonged to a Literary Guild, she was our Girl Scout Leader, she chaperoned events for us and at the school where she taught.

She was kind and loving, but firm and practical.  I loved that friends felt welcome at our home.  That was one of her gifts, making everyone feel comfortable and welcome.  And probably, her most incredible gift was always looking for and recognizing the good in others.  There were times when she was hosting one of her groups that a little gossip might surface.  Mom either remained silent or spoke up noting something very positive about the individual being discussed.  She did that with us as well.  My parents never spoke about the people in authority in our lives in front of us as children or teens.  They maybe didn't always agree with how someone handled a situation, but they were respectful enough of that individual to handle it privately and not plant anything in our little heads.  

No person is a saint, and neither was my mom, but she gave us more than a solid base to build on.  She exemplified the reward of hard work, of compassion and faith.  She has been gone just over 20 years and I still wish I could pick up the phone and ask a question, or share something with her.  These past few years I have yearned for her arms to hold me as she did as a child.  I was so extremely blessed with the woman God chose as my mother.

And then there is Dave.  David Lee, Boy, Six Pack, Big Daddy, Grandpa, Bumpa are just a few other names he answered to over the course of his life.  This man had more personality in that short frame of his than one could ever imagine.  He loved being the "tough guy" and in many, many ways he was.  His history as a Marine, a sheriff's deputy suited him well.  He was small but not in the least fearful.  I never saw him be afraid for anything that had to do with him.  His passion was his family.  He adored his sons, and fortunately for Adam, Chad and me, he extended that same love to us when we came into his life.  He definitely was a mama's boy and cared for her beyond what would ever be expected as she aged and diminished due to Alzheimer's.  His life was not easy early on, but he adapted by overcoming.  He took great pride in doing a good job and nothing was too menial for him.  

He was working his retirement job as the bag room manager, locker room manager at a country club.  His carts sparkled, clubs shone and you could see your reflection in your shoes if he was the one who shined them for you.  He had a lot of old school values and ideas, but they were wonderful ones.  I never walked along the curb on the sidewalk with him, never opened a car door, or any door for that matter.  I never put my coat on myself if he was there.  He still carried handkerchiefs, folded meticulously.  There were actually two, one for him to use and one to offer if someone became teary (more often me than anyone).  For some of his gruff demeanor, he was the consummate gentleman.  He gave 110% for me from the moment we married.  I didn't think it was possible to feel as safe with anyone as I had with my parents, but he gave that to me as well.

He taught me, after years in a marriage that suffered with emotional and verbal abuse, that I was fine just the way I was and that I should never change for anyone but myself.  I could go where I wanted, do what I wanted, wear what I wanted, talk how I wanted without fear of his reaction.  He healed me.  He allowed me to become who I was meant to be.  He made me feel comfortable in my own skin for maybe the first time in my adult life.  He had a wonderful sense of humor, and made me laugh every day.  My favorite feature of his, without question, were his eyes.  They were a beautiful blue and sparkled.  Only Santa, Glinda the Good Witch, and a very few other magical creatures have eyes that twinkled like his did.  They lit up every time he saw any of our sons, definitely for our grandchildren, other family members and his dear friends.  Even when he was wracked with pain from cancer, when I would return home in the evening he could still manage a glimmer.

He taught me how to live and he showed me how to die.  He showed me what a real marriage is, what partnership means, and what it means to put yourself aside for the betterment or good of your spouse.  He was everything I needed and more and for the life of me I don't know how we came to be, but I will forever be grateful for the eleven short years we had together.  What I would love more than ever, would be to dance one more time with Dave.  To be held in his arms, one hand in his, my face nestled into his neck, smelling the goodness of him and his cologne, where everything was absolutely right in the world.  That would be heaven to me in the here and now.

Anything good about me is in large part due to both of these people in my life.  I miss them each more than I can tell you.  But tomorrow I will find a chocolate cupcake somewhere, for that is what they both favored, and celebrate the joy in not only knowing them, but being loved and cherished by them.  And I hope by now they have had the chance to meet and can celebrate together tomorrow.  (Who knows what really happens in heaven, but the idea makes me happy so I'm going with it!)  

Happy Birthday Mom.  Happy Birthday Dave.  My heart and eyes are full as I remember and celebrate you both.  You have been the embodiment of love, acceptance, and good examples with your lives and tomorrow I will make my very best day in your honor.