Seven years or so ago, no make that eight, it was spring 2003 and John and I had just started dating. We spent a sunny Sunday morning into afternoon into evening at the home of mutual friends, out on their deck, celebrating another friend's PhD, drinking mimosas and then mojitos and then wine, eating an endless array of snacks, enjoying the sun in short sleeves, unwilling to admit that we were actually a little chilly, simply happy and totally carefree.
I remember letting go that day of anything about which I felt even a shred of responsibility. I remember making a decision to just enjoy that day, which is now associated with with a pure definition of happiness for me. It was the kind of day you can't create if you try, a day that just happens and for which you give grateful thanks.
Today could be that day again. The weather is the same as is my willingness to let go of responsibility. But I'm at work, not on a friend's deck, and I have kids to go home to. Maybe we'll go get ice cream or read an extra story; such is the form of joyful abandon of responsibility these days. Oh, how times change, but the simplicity of such happiness stays the same.
22 April 2011
15 April 2011
Blessings
[Scene: I'm in bed with Maddie; it's her turn to snuggle with Mama until she falls asleep. All is cozy, warm, and dozy.]
Maddie: "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. I am counting my blessings."
Mama: "Oh, that's a nice thing to do. Do you want to tell me what they are, are or just think about them in your head as you count?"
Maddie: "One, my money."
Mama: [?????]
Maddie: "Two, my daddy, who is already dead."
Mama: [heart busting into a thousand pieces; brain wondering why he comes after the money]
Maddie: "Then, my toys, my school, my window, my breath, everything I like in the world. That's not ten. Wait! Sleeping with my mama. The girls at school. Some of the boys at school. Being outside."
I'm not actually sure where she was introduced to the concept of blessings, or counting them; if it's something I taught her, I do not remember doing so. And it's curious to me, that on that whole largely random list of things, her dad is such a real and prominent feature. I stand by my assertion that she remembers him, and not just the idea of him. The real him. That is indeed a true blessing.
Maddie: "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. I am counting my blessings."
Mama: "Oh, that's a nice thing to do. Do you want to tell me what they are, are or just think about them in your head as you count?"
Maddie: "One, my money."
Mama: [?????]
Maddie: "Two, my daddy, who is already dead."
Mama: [heart busting into a thousand pieces; brain wondering why he comes after the money]
Maddie: "Then, my toys, my school, my window, my breath, everything I like in the world. That's not ten. Wait! Sleeping with my mama. The girls at school. Some of the boys at school. Being outside."
I'm not actually sure where she was introduced to the concept of blessings, or counting them; if it's something I taught her, I do not remember doing so. And it's curious to me, that on that whole largely random list of things, her dad is such a real and prominent feature. I stand by my assertion that she remembers him, and not just the idea of him. The real him. That is indeed a true blessing.
11 April 2011
Four Years
John died four years ago today.
This is the first year that his deathiversary snuck up on me. I have been preoccupied with other things (buying a house! work! general life!), and it was not until yesterday at church that I remembered. Last year, I shared the three year anniversary during joys and sorrows at our church service; I was a weepy, emotional mess, but there was no better place to be in such a state. As I sat in church yesterday, it came back to me, and I realized that today was The Day.
By this morning, I'd forgotten again, and it was not until I had to write the date on a paper at work that it came back to me. It felt good, in a way, to be caught unawares, like some sign of "progress," whatever that's supposed to mean. I wrote about it on Facebook, asking for people to share memories of John. And as the memories rolled in, so did my emotions. People had the sweetest, funniest things to share. It's not just 20/20 hindsight that casts John in such a flattering light; he was a truly great guy who was loved by many.
I was pretty useless at work today, weepy a few times and forgetful and unfocused otherwise. Frankly, for the past few weeks, I've been in a similar state. Not so much the weepy, but the forgetful. I have forgotten a bunch of things lately: birthday parties and gatherings with friends and bill payments and meetings at work. I'm generally a much more forgetful human as a parent and since John's death, but the past weeks have been particularly acute. Coincidence? Likely not.
Upon arriving home, I ended up yelling at Maddie and Riley, really yelling, about something mostly trivial. I hadn't yelled at them in a long time. It felt horrible, yet freeing. That rage still lives in me about John's death: rage that he's gone, rage about how he went, rage about the injustice of life, rage about not having something I want. It's totally inappropriate to take that out on Maddie and Riley; I know that, and I berate myself mightily for it. Afterwards, when the rage had died down, we talked about it, and we all cried a bit, me more than them.
I miss John when I don't expect to. In general, I miss him more now that our life is, relatively speaking, so steady and even keel. I'm content with my life. I'm sure things would not be perfect if John were here. But he'd be here, and I miss him, and when I imagine what it would be like, it's happy.
This is the first year that his deathiversary snuck up on me. I have been preoccupied with other things (buying a house! work! general life!), and it was not until yesterday at church that I remembered. Last year, I shared the three year anniversary during joys and sorrows at our church service; I was a weepy, emotional mess, but there was no better place to be in such a state. As I sat in church yesterday, it came back to me, and I realized that today was The Day.
By this morning, I'd forgotten again, and it was not until I had to write the date on a paper at work that it came back to me. It felt good, in a way, to be caught unawares, like some sign of "progress," whatever that's supposed to mean. I wrote about it on Facebook, asking for people to share memories of John. And as the memories rolled in, so did my emotions. People had the sweetest, funniest things to share. It's not just 20/20 hindsight that casts John in such a flattering light; he was a truly great guy who was loved by many.
I was pretty useless at work today, weepy a few times and forgetful and unfocused otherwise. Frankly, for the past few weeks, I've been in a similar state. Not so much the weepy, but the forgetful. I have forgotten a bunch of things lately: birthday parties and gatherings with friends and bill payments and meetings at work. I'm generally a much more forgetful human as a parent and since John's death, but the past weeks have been particularly acute. Coincidence? Likely not.
Upon arriving home, I ended up yelling at Maddie and Riley, really yelling, about something mostly trivial. I hadn't yelled at them in a long time. It felt horrible, yet freeing. That rage still lives in me about John's death: rage that he's gone, rage about how he went, rage about the injustice of life, rage about not having something I want. It's totally inappropriate to take that out on Maddie and Riley; I know that, and I berate myself mightily for it. Afterwards, when the rage had died down, we talked about it, and we all cried a bit, me more than them.
I miss John when I don't expect to. In general, I miss him more now that our life is, relatively speaking, so steady and even keel. I'm content with my life. I'm sure things would not be perfect if John were here. But he'd be here, and I miss him, and when I imagine what it would be like, it's happy.
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