Gratefully Weird...

 

My family is very close – this is no secret and I’ve always known it to be true, I just don’t think I always realized that it wasn’t true for everyone.  The older I am, the more people I talk to, the more I understand that we were different.

I mean, I always understood that we were the weirdos.  A house full of long-haired hippies, banging on drums and wailing guitars.  We were the house other kids came to for that.  I just didn’t understand what that was or that it was uncommon.  We were different.

What’s the difference?  I guess it’s that we actually like each other.  Obviously, there’s love in most families, but we LIKE one another.  I have a lot of wonderful friends but, given a choice, I’d always choose my brothers and sisters over most.  I think my siblings agree and that’s what makes us who we are.

It’s been a rough couple of years and I’m aware how much my clan has done to see me through.  So when my teens asked to go visit their Illinois family when they could have asked for the beach, I jumped at the chance.

I love the beach, but nothing makes me feel better than recharging my familial battery.  I had no clear intentions with this visit.  My kids wanted to see their cousins.  We brought along a spare teen who had never been to St. Louis.  My mom got to see some of her kids.  I went for the hugs.

I ate other people’s food, drank local beer, and sat back while we tossed around remember whens and back in the day stories.  We drove through old neighborhoods and were shocked by changes.  What happened to that tidy house that held eleven people?  When did it get so small?  Impossible!  Don’t the current people have any self respect?  The place is trashed!  And much smaller that than I remember.

Our grandparents’ house is still neat and tidy, but it’s missing the Christ family glow that always embraced us.  The library where I learned to walk while visiting my mother and grandmother at work was full of surprises.  There was a display of popular local bands – most of which our brothers played with.

The best surprise of all was learning a big family secret!  I, little Terri, was clearly Grandma’s favorite!  When looking at their house, my sister and I were talking about our favorite parts.  I spent every Friday there with Grandma and got special treats.  The milkman came on Fridays and always had a little carton of chocolate milk just for me.  While reading books at the kitchen table, my grandma revealed the drawer where she kept little squares of caramel.  She quietly slipped these little treasures to me.

My sister knew nothing about these caramel squares.  So, I polled my other siblings.  No one else ever got them!  They didn’t even know they existed.  Out of her 39 grandchildren, I was definitely Grandma’s favorite!

Okay, probably not.  It’s more likely that little nosy Terri busted Grandma getting her own secret treat and she shared, making it “our thing”.  It’s very likely that we each had our own special thing with Grandma.

That is sort of the point of it all, isn’t it?  Family is supposed to make you feel special and unique.  Mine does, and I’m grateful to have those moments that are presented to remind me.

We’re not like most.  We’re a little weird and that’s pretty great.  Thanks, family.

 

 

 

Hurry Up And Wait...

I keep saying that if the pandemic has taught me nothing else, it’s taught me patience.  That’s mostly true but I can’t say it’s a lesson I’ve enjoyed.

Over the last two years, I’ve spent a lot of time waiting.  If these things can be measured, I’d say I’ve probably earned a medal in it.  You need me to hold?  Sure.  Need me to stand in line?  No problem.  Want me to sit in that uncomfortable chair in the corner while you look things up?  You’ve got it.  I can’t come inside but can wait in my car in the parking lot?  OK.  I won’t complain because you (whoever you are) don’t want to make me wait, either. I get it. You, whoever you are, probably don’t like telling me to wait any more than I like hearing it.

When my husband was first hospitalized, I couldn’t go inside with him so I had to wait.  Wait for calls, wait for questions, wait for answers.  I get it.  But I don’t sit still very well so while I waited, I clung to my old mantra: “I can’t do that but I can do this.” and tried to busy myself with other things that I could do.

I hurried up and got busy.  Our pool desperately needed a new liner.  Called the guy. Scheduled the replacement.  Waited months for the liner to arrive.  The house desperately needed siding.  Called the guy.  Waited months for the siding to arrive. Lather, rinse, repeat.  Those projects were done with so many apologies along with thanks for my patience.

Meanwhile, I really needed a source of income so I hurried up to tackle that  So many resumes were sent.  So many interviews – telephone, virtual/video, even in person – happened.  All seemed positive and promising.  I’m still waiting for the right and perfect job to reveal itself to me.

The metaphysical me understand that Right and Perfect can’t happen until the Right and Perfect time.  Unfortunately, the here on earth me is becoming frustrated with the wait. Metaphysical Me understands that time doesn’t matter in the universal plan.  Here on earth me has a watch and a calendar and the ticking just gets louder and louder.

I’m frustrated.  But hindsight shows that each of the things that I wanted to happen would have conflicted with the things that needed to happen.  So I breathe deeply.  I pull up my patience pants.  I find something to occupy my time while I wait.  And I wait.

I know that hurrying doesn’t help but that’s what I know.  Hurry Up And Wait…

 

 

Infinite Universe...

 

It’s been a very long time since I wrote here.  It’s been almost a year since my husband left this earthly plane.  It’s been much longer since he was in our home, participating in the family life.

Grief is a curious thing.  It doesn’t look the same for any two people and it changes day by day.  I haven’t really wallowed in it yet because my focus has been on guiding my kids though it.  I’m sure, wherever he is, he’s rolling his eyes at me and telling me “Don’t be a martyr.”  I get it.  But I’m a mom and that’s what moms do.  We put our stuff in a box on a shelf while we tend to everyone else.  I’ll get to it later.

That said, I’ve gotten through one day at a time.  Each day, I wake with gratitude for each day.  Maybe that’s corny, but it’s true.  For the last year, I’ve been embraced by an army of people who love me and who continue to hold me up.  I tackle what I can – with their help – and keep looking forward.

He was the love of my life.  I spent a lifetime looking for him and we built a beautiful family together.  It’s not fair!  He was one of the best humans ever.  Tomorrow, I’ll wake with gratitude and positivity, but right now, I’m sad and angry, and disappointed.

So why am I writing now?  Because my brain is full and I have to hit the release valve.

Over the last few weeks, I’ve been hit with books, movies, even cartoons about infinite alternate universes.  Most recently, I read The Midnight Library.  I picked it up (at the library, of course) because of its title.  I assumed it would be a light read.  I like libraries.  Surprisingly, there was a librarian and there were books, but it wasn’t about libraries at all.

The main character found herself jumping from life to life.  She was herself and knew most of the folks she encountered, but the details changed.  In one life, she was a famous rock star, in another, a scientist, she was a wife and mother, she lived all over the world and had adventures but relationships varied dramatically.  Her parents were alive in one but not in another.  Her brother had drastic changes from life to life.

She hopped from life to life in effort to choose the one she wanted.  Eventually she figured out that her decisions and choices had ripple effects on others in her world, so she went back to her original life with open eyes and a focus on that responsibility to make choices that are good for the whole community.

That sounds right to me.  Maybe, somewhere out there in the ethers, my husband and kids and I are living a happy life together.  I hope so. But since I’m here right now – in this life where I am figuring it out day by day, I will just continue to be grateful that I found that man, that we connected, joined hearts, and created a pretty great life together for the time we had.

I’ll wake up tomorrow and I’ll be grateful for the life I have.  I’m grateful for my home, my family, my friends, and all of the love that continues to flow my way.  I wish that for everyone.