Dear Granddaddy,
It's been 24 years. 24 years since I've heard you laugh. Since I've felt your arms around me. And I want you to know how much I miss you.
I was twelve when you left. I know that it wasn't your choosing, it was God's...and over the years, I've (mostly) made peace with that. But I miss you each and every single day.
I wanted to thank you. For being my grandfather. For teaching me things that no one else could have taught me. For raising me when you could have easily said no. You taught me how to tie my shoe, how to braid my hair, and how to spit watermelon seeds. Because of you, I knew how to work on my first car, change the alternator belt and thermostat. How to fix a flat...when to patch, when to plug, and when to throw it out.
You taught me how to shake hands like I mean it. How to look people in the eye. Reinforced the "Yes, ma'am's and no sirs". You taught me how to count change.
You told me what my worth is. How high my self esteem was. You taught me how a man loves his wife and children. How he cares for his family. How he does what needs to be done, and how his family can always count on him.
You let me ride in the back of the pick-up with my brother and cousins. You took me to "rastlin'" matches on Saturday nights at the Mayborn Center.
You held my hand when I was sick. Never left me, and always made sure that I knew that I was loved.
Not every kid is as lucky as me....to have had someone like you. To pick up the pieces when my little girl heart was broken, abandoned, and alone. And for that, I am always and forever, truly grateful. Because of you, I can make it through anything. Because you told me that I'm tough. And I am. I wouldn't have made it this far without your love and your lessons.
So thank you. I miss you more than words could ever express.
I also want you to know that I'm proud to be your granddaughter. I always have been, and always will be. Cars are different now....I won't necessarily have to teach my girls the same things that you taught me....but because of you, I also picked a good man to be their father. He loves them the same way that you loved me....
I hope that you and Mama are having a great time. She really missed you. I'm happy that you two are together again. But I still miss you.
So, here is a celebration of your life! Here's to you!
Milton Stephen 1929-1989
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
Thursday, July 25, 2013
July 25, 2007
The day didn't start out like the others. There was definitely the air of death in our home....again....This was the day that the bottom dropped out of my world. I wasn't sure if I would recover from this one. It was too hard.
You see, the date that serves as the title of this post was the day that my grandmother died.
We knew that it was going to be soon. She had fought the good fight against non-small cell lung cancer. All of the chemo, the meds, losing her hair.....she tolerated the treatments better than people much younger than her. Even her team of doctors had said so. But a few months before, the chemo had stopped working. We could have tried something else, but she didn't want to. She said that she had done all that she could do in this life, and that she was tired and ready to go. She didn't want to spend all of the money that she and her husband had spent their lives working for and saving, on futile treatments. We begged her to....so that she could stay with us longer, but she said no. Her babies were up to size, and it was time to rest. This was her decision, and she wouldn't be swayed.
The hospice nurse had been out the day before. Mama had become unresponsive, and was in a deep sleep. The nurse checked her over, and told us that it would be soon. Circulation in her lower body had all but stopped, her body was slowing down, and she had the "rails". "She may, or may not, make it through the night," she said. I listened, but I didn't. I didn't want to. I wanted to share so many more experiences with her. I wanted her to see me get married and have children of my own...I wanted to call her when I had questions about what babies do....I wanted her to tell me that husbands will make you crazy, but you have made this commitment, and it's not always easy and fun, but it's deep and meaningful. I wanted her to hold me just one more time, and tell me that everything was going to be ok. But it wasn't meant to be.
Death was waiting at the foot of her bed.
The home care nurse that we had hired called us to tell us that she was stuck in traffic, but would be there soon. We had decided that we needed just an hour to get out of the house and breath. This, though expected, was happening too quickly. We told her that it was fine, we all understood traffic, and we'd be at the house when she got there. The hospice nurse had been out already that day and had gone on to visit with her next patient.
We were in her room, sitting around and kind of talking, kind of not, and it started....
It was just like the nurse told us it would be....the gasping for breath like a fish out of water. Her eyes opened, she was gasping, and we were scared. As scared little girls, we did the only thing that we knew to do....we called her sister....she rushed to the house and ran to be by her sister's side. She held her face, and was able to tell her, one last time, that she loved her.
And in an instant, Mama looked past us, and smiled the most peaceful smile that I had ever seen....she saw her husband, I'm sure of it. The man that she had loved, for better or worse, in sickness and in health, until death did them part. She saw him come for her, and went to be with him.
It was the first time in all of my life that I couldn't go where my mama was. I was alone. My breath gone...no air in the room.....no air in the world...and all that I could do was pray.
It was over. Rewards to a servant whose job was well done. Healed from the cancer, free from the pain, no more sorrow, no more tears....
She didn't want to die alone, and she didn't. We were all there with her, on this side....my grandfather, was on the other...she was never alone. Not for one second.
I had to keep it together. There were phone calls to be made. Family, the hospice nurse, the funeral home.....I made two of those calls, to family and to the nurse. The nurse took care of everything else. I had gone numb by then....my tongue didn't work anymore, my brain was non-functional. Things kind of start blanking out for me after the hospice nurse came back and I watched her check for signs of life.
She didn't find any.
The representatives from funeral home came to take her body away. I listened as the gurney loaded with her remains was wheeled down the hallway. She left the home that she and my grandfather had built together for the last time. My brother got in from Houston, and we all went to see her. They had her wrapped in blankets, with only her face exposed. I touched her....and she was cold. I wept a little....but I had to keep it together for the sake of the rest of my family. This was the choice that I made, because this is what she expected of me.
Then, it was on to the business of funeral planning. I can hardly remember any of the next few days. I spent quite a bit of time listening to music and walking around in a grief-filled haze. All that I know is that when it was all done, she was laid to rest next to her husband, whom she had been missing since 1989. It was a funeral fitting a woman like my grandmother. To the point, no carrying on, no laying out in the aisle of the church. No one threw themselves into the casket....Our tears silently spilled down our cheeks, tissues and handkerchiefs were passed around. Family and friends spoke comforting words to us as we sat in the pew...patted our shoulders, hugged us tight...said how lovely everything was....how she's was looking down on us, pleased with how everything looked, how she would always be with us.....
We walked past her casket and gazed upon her one last time, then headed to the family car. On the way to the cemetery, we passed by where the Service Station used to be. It would be her last time to ride past it. I looked out of the window of the limo and thought about all of the days and evenings that I had spent there with her and Granddaddy. And how I would never get to feel that carefree again....about how my children, if I ever had them, would never know what it was like to play in the grease rack, or wash up for lunch in a bucket with powdered laundry soap.
She and Granddaddy are in The Garden of Prayer.
A wise friend once told me, "We are souls bound by temporary bodies. We aren't meant to live in them forever." No matter how much I wanted her to live forever with me here, I know that she's in a much better place now. She does live forever, she will, that's the Promise that I know to be true. My faith tells me so, even though my heart breaks. Strangely enough, one of the most beautiful, peaceful things that I have ever witnessed, was this. My grandmother's passing. To watch someone go from being wracked by illness, to complete peace....that's how I know that there is a healing God.
Still, there's a void in my life that will never be filled. I tell my girls stories about their great-grandparents. Each of them, Katherine and Emily, have these little quirks that remind me of her. Katie-Pie can hardly pay attention to a camera long enough to have her picture taken....Ems shakes her foot when she's really mad....and that's how I know that she lives....she's in my girls. She's in my cooking and baking, in the attitude that I can give my husband in a split second. She's in how I'll survey our neighborhood from the window with my hand on my hip. She's in how fiercely I love my children and in hoe dedicated I am to my husband and my family. I hope that she's proud.
I need for her to know that I miss her terribly. I need for her to know that my life has never been the same since she left. I need her to know that I love her more than I want her, and how I get it now. That's a valuable lesson that she taught me.....to put your love for someone above your wants....it isn't easy, but it makes sense.
So, in the end, I'll make it through today. I'll have some ice cream, watch some TV, breath, and take in some Son....because that's what I need today. that, and my family.
Here's to you, Mama. A woman among women. Strong, graceful, beautiful, and forever alive.
You see, the date that serves as the title of this post was the day that my grandmother died.
We knew that it was going to be soon. She had fought the good fight against non-small cell lung cancer. All of the chemo, the meds, losing her hair.....she tolerated the treatments better than people much younger than her. Even her team of doctors had said so. But a few months before, the chemo had stopped working. We could have tried something else, but she didn't want to. She said that she had done all that she could do in this life, and that she was tired and ready to go. She didn't want to spend all of the money that she and her husband had spent their lives working for and saving, on futile treatments. We begged her to....so that she could stay with us longer, but she said no. Her babies were up to size, and it was time to rest. This was her decision, and she wouldn't be swayed.
The hospice nurse had been out the day before. Mama had become unresponsive, and was in a deep sleep. The nurse checked her over, and told us that it would be soon. Circulation in her lower body had all but stopped, her body was slowing down, and she had the "rails". "She may, or may not, make it through the night," she said. I listened, but I didn't. I didn't want to. I wanted to share so many more experiences with her. I wanted her to see me get married and have children of my own...I wanted to call her when I had questions about what babies do....I wanted her to tell me that husbands will make you crazy, but you have made this commitment, and it's not always easy and fun, but it's deep and meaningful. I wanted her to hold me just one more time, and tell me that everything was going to be ok. But it wasn't meant to be.
Death was waiting at the foot of her bed.
The home care nurse that we had hired called us to tell us that she was stuck in traffic, but would be there soon. We had decided that we needed just an hour to get out of the house and breath. This, though expected, was happening too quickly. We told her that it was fine, we all understood traffic, and we'd be at the house when she got there. The hospice nurse had been out already that day and had gone on to visit with her next patient.
We were in her room, sitting around and kind of talking, kind of not, and it started....
It was just like the nurse told us it would be....the gasping for breath like a fish out of water. Her eyes opened, she was gasping, and we were scared. As scared little girls, we did the only thing that we knew to do....we called her sister....she rushed to the house and ran to be by her sister's side. She held her face, and was able to tell her, one last time, that she loved her.
And in an instant, Mama looked past us, and smiled the most peaceful smile that I had ever seen....she saw her husband, I'm sure of it. The man that she had loved, for better or worse, in sickness and in health, until death did them part. She saw him come for her, and went to be with him.
It was the first time in all of my life that I couldn't go where my mama was. I was alone. My breath gone...no air in the room.....no air in the world...and all that I could do was pray.
It was over. Rewards to a servant whose job was well done. Healed from the cancer, free from the pain, no more sorrow, no more tears....
She didn't want to die alone, and she didn't. We were all there with her, on this side....my grandfather, was on the other...she was never alone. Not for one second.
I had to keep it together. There were phone calls to be made. Family, the hospice nurse, the funeral home.....I made two of those calls, to family and to the nurse. The nurse took care of everything else. I had gone numb by then....my tongue didn't work anymore, my brain was non-functional. Things kind of start blanking out for me after the hospice nurse came back and I watched her check for signs of life.
She didn't find any.
The representatives from funeral home came to take her body away. I listened as the gurney loaded with her remains was wheeled down the hallway. She left the home that she and my grandfather had built together for the last time. My brother got in from Houston, and we all went to see her. They had her wrapped in blankets, with only her face exposed. I touched her....and she was cold. I wept a little....but I had to keep it together for the sake of the rest of my family. This was the choice that I made, because this is what she expected of me.
Then, it was on to the business of funeral planning. I can hardly remember any of the next few days. I spent quite a bit of time listening to music and walking around in a grief-filled haze. All that I know is that when it was all done, she was laid to rest next to her husband, whom she had been missing since 1989. It was a funeral fitting a woman like my grandmother. To the point, no carrying on, no laying out in the aisle of the church. No one threw themselves into the casket....Our tears silently spilled down our cheeks, tissues and handkerchiefs were passed around. Family and friends spoke comforting words to us as we sat in the pew...patted our shoulders, hugged us tight...said how lovely everything was....how she's was looking down on us, pleased with how everything looked, how she would always be with us.....
We walked past her casket and gazed upon her one last time, then headed to the family car. On the way to the cemetery, we passed by where the Service Station used to be. It would be her last time to ride past it. I looked out of the window of the limo and thought about all of the days and evenings that I had spent there with her and Granddaddy. And how I would never get to feel that carefree again....about how my children, if I ever had them, would never know what it was like to play in the grease rack, or wash up for lunch in a bucket with powdered laundry soap.
She and Granddaddy are in The Garden of Prayer.
A wise friend once told me, "We are souls bound by temporary bodies. We aren't meant to live in them forever." No matter how much I wanted her to live forever with me here, I know that she's in a much better place now. She does live forever, she will, that's the Promise that I know to be true. My faith tells me so, even though my heart breaks. Strangely enough, one of the most beautiful, peaceful things that I have ever witnessed, was this. My grandmother's passing. To watch someone go from being wracked by illness, to complete peace....that's how I know that there is a healing God.
I need for her to know that I miss her terribly. I need for her to know that my life has never been the same since she left. I need her to know that I love her more than I want her, and how I get it now. That's a valuable lesson that she taught me.....to put your love for someone above your wants....it isn't easy, but it makes sense.
So, in the end, I'll make it through today. I'll have some ice cream, watch some TV, breath, and take in some Son....because that's what I need today. that, and my family.
Here's to you, Mama. A woman among women. Strong, graceful, beautiful, and forever alive.
Monday, July 15, 2013
The Swing
Oh, wow! We're making good use of the swing again. It's a "My Little Lamb" baby swing....great for getting a sleepy baby to actually go to sleep during the day. We're careful to not overuse it, but we do use it.....Especially with our first....she LOVED being in her swing.
So now, I look at the swing....it had collected just a little dust since Katie-Pie's last time in it...but not so much that we couldn't easily clean it up with a Lysol wipe or two. When Matt brought it down, shortly before Ems was born, I cried. Not that I wasn't thrilled to be using it again, but because I remembered the last time I had put Sunshine in it for a nap.
She had finally dozed off in my arms, and I wanted to get some dinner started. I eased off of the sofa and made my way over to the swing with my sleeping darling in my arms. I could feel how much she had grown since her first time in the swing, and it made my heart heavy. My little baby wasn't so little anymore. She barely fit in it in the beginning.....and now, as I gently placed her in the swing and buckled the seat belt, I could see her little legs practically dangling over the edge, and her arms waving over the sides. She was still little, but not as tiny as she had been that first time.
I turned the swing on, and started the music....tears began to stream down my face as I knew that it was the last time she would be in it....I left her in the swing for a long time that day. It was part of her infancy that I didn't want to give up. She looked so fragile, and it was as if the swing and I were a team that could protect her from growing up. I played the music over and over...watched the mobile dance above her in celebration of her life...it's own need to entertain the sleeping darling evident to anyone who watched.
I sat and stared at her, swaying gently, sleeping peacefully....and I just knew....this would be the last time that I would watch her slumber in the swing.....and it broke my heart. She was growing up. I love to watch her grow...she's doing exactly what she's supposed to be doing.....but it doesn't mean that it's easy for the parents...it's actually pretty rough for the parents.....but I still love it.
When naptime was over, I stopped the swing and turned off the music for the last time....I didn't know if we'd ever use the swing again, but I wanted the swing to know that I appreciated everything that it had done for my family...calmed a restless baby so that mommy could go to the bathroom, read the paper, clip a coupon or two....but not too much...she still preferred to be rocked in my arms, held next to my heart, sharing her warmth with me.
I patted the swing, thanked it, and moved it out of the way....it was time to make room for the next phase of Sugar Doodle's naptime life......which happened to be my arms, or Matt's arms, or the arms of any of the multitude of people who love her. And that's the beauty of the changing of the seasons....while I was saddened by the passing of the swing, I was happy that I didn't have to share her naps with the swing any longer.
So now, I look at the swing....it had collected just a little dust since Katie-Pie's last time in it...but not so much that we couldn't easily clean it up with a Lysol wipe or two. When Matt brought it down, shortly before Ems was born, I cried. Not that I wasn't thrilled to be using it again, but because I remembered the last time I had put Sunshine in it for a nap.
She had finally dozed off in my arms, and I wanted to get some dinner started. I eased off of the sofa and made my way over to the swing with my sleeping darling in my arms. I could feel how much she had grown since her first time in the swing, and it made my heart heavy. My little baby wasn't so little anymore. She barely fit in it in the beginning.....and now, as I gently placed her in the swing and buckled the seat belt, I could see her little legs practically dangling over the edge, and her arms waving over the sides. She was still little, but not as tiny as she had been that first time.
I turned the swing on, and started the music....tears began to stream down my face as I knew that it was the last time she would be in it....I left her in the swing for a long time that day. It was part of her infancy that I didn't want to give up. She looked so fragile, and it was as if the swing and I were a team that could protect her from growing up. I played the music over and over...watched the mobile dance above her in celebration of her life...it's own need to entertain the sleeping darling evident to anyone who watched.
I sat and stared at her, swaying gently, sleeping peacefully....and I just knew....this would be the last time that I would watch her slumber in the swing.....and it broke my heart. She was growing up. I love to watch her grow...she's doing exactly what she's supposed to be doing.....but it doesn't mean that it's easy for the parents...it's actually pretty rough for the parents.....but I still love it.
When naptime was over, I stopped the swing and turned off the music for the last time....I didn't know if we'd ever use the swing again, but I wanted the swing to know that I appreciated everything that it had done for my family...calmed a restless baby so that mommy could go to the bathroom, read the paper, clip a coupon or two....but not too much...she still preferred to be rocked in my arms, held next to my heart, sharing her warmth with me.
I patted the swing, thanked it, and moved it out of the way....it was time to make room for the next phase of Sugar Doodle's naptime life......which happened to be my arms, or Matt's arms, or the arms of any of the multitude of people who love her. And that's the beauty of the changing of the seasons....while I was saddened by the passing of the swing, I was happy that I didn't have to share her naps with the swing any longer.
 |
| Cupcake's first time in the swing. |
Sunday, July 14, 2013
No words for how this picture makes me feel
And every time that Ems hears Katie-Pie's voice, she smiles. True and genuine smile.
I had one of THOSE moments....
You know the one...the "Bad Mommy Moment". I had one just today. It's been a looooooong time since the last one (thank goodness), and maybe it's the sleep deprivation, maybe it's the fact that it's the second day/night of newborn cluster feeding. I haven't slept in a while...not decently.....but still, it's no excuse.
I almost lost my cool with my big girl. And it wasn't fair to her that I got so frustrated. You see, just a little while ago, we were so close to being potty trained. Then, Ems arrived (ahead of schedule), and all of KP's potty progress went down the toilet....I sat her on the potty this morning and she started wailing like someone had cut her arm off. That siren scream where all you can see are tonsils and she gets super high pitched (and you think that your ears are going to bleed), she starts hyperventilating, and in between sobs, she's screaming, "I'M DONE!!! I'M DONE!!", all the while peeing in the potty but she doesn't realize it. And for a moment, all that I wanted to do was say to her, "I am so over all of this stupid potty training! Why won't you just calm down and use the stupid potty?!?!?"
Then, I took a deep breath and reminded myself of several things. 1) She's trying to adjust to having Ems around. 2) She's only 2. 3) It's one of the few things that she feels that she has control over right now. 4) Such thoughts are completely contrary to my style of being a mommy. I'm out to savor as many moments of my kids' childhood as possible. Why, at that moment in time, did I feel the need to rush her through this stage? Because I'm tired of buying Pull-Ups and would really like for her to wear all of those cute girlie panties that I've bought for her? Because I'm so wanting her to be an advanced, over-achieving kid who is always at the top of EVERYTHING? Because I want people to say, "I'm not surprised that she's already fully potty trained. She is super smart!" (As if using the potty has anything to do with smarts.....)
I don't really have a good reason....h3ll, I don't have a reason at all.....everyone is just super-duper frustrated about all of these changes that have happened to our family at once. (Now don't get me wrong....we love the chaos of having a toddler and a newborn. I wouldn't change a thing! We love these girls so much, I get choked up just thinking about it.)
Then, I stopped, took a deep breath and announced to hubby: "She's not ready and we're all too frustrated. Let's just take a break from potty training."
And all three of us breathed a sigh of relief...it will be ok....she can use it when she wants to, but we're aren't going to hog-tie her to the potty.
Now, I'm going to ask her to forgive me. Just because I'm ready for her to use the potty 100% of the time, doesn't mean that she is. I'm going to back up, and let her do her thing....she won't go to high school in Pull-Ups (right?? In my current overly exhausted state, I could see me now scouring the internet for juniors' size 3 training pants for my 14 year old to wear under her skinny-jeans...I mean, I did just have a nightmare about her not being able to read and write at 7 and getting kicked out of high school....yes, high school at age 7).
Here's to hoping that I don't impart my own personal neuroses on my sweet little girl! I just keep reminding myself, "She's two. TWO! Not 12, not 15....she's my sweet potato Katie-Pie. And I'm going to enjoy all of the moments with her that I can....
I almost lost my cool with my big girl. And it wasn't fair to her that I got so frustrated. You see, just a little while ago, we were so close to being potty trained. Then, Ems arrived (ahead of schedule), and all of KP's potty progress went down the toilet....I sat her on the potty this morning and she started wailing like someone had cut her arm off. That siren scream where all you can see are tonsils and she gets super high pitched (and you think that your ears are going to bleed), she starts hyperventilating, and in between sobs, she's screaming, "I'M DONE!!! I'M DONE!!", all the while peeing in the potty but she doesn't realize it. And for a moment, all that I wanted to do was say to her, "I am so over all of this stupid potty training! Why won't you just calm down and use the stupid potty?!?!?"
Then, I took a deep breath and reminded myself of several things. 1) She's trying to adjust to having Ems around. 2) She's only 2. 3) It's one of the few things that she feels that she has control over right now. 4) Such thoughts are completely contrary to my style of being a mommy. I'm out to savor as many moments of my kids' childhood as possible. Why, at that moment in time, did I feel the need to rush her through this stage? Because I'm tired of buying Pull-Ups and would really like for her to wear all of those cute girlie panties that I've bought for her? Because I'm so wanting her to be an advanced, over-achieving kid who is always at the top of EVERYTHING? Because I want people to say, "I'm not surprised that she's already fully potty trained. She is super smart!" (As if using the potty has anything to do with smarts.....)
I don't really have a good reason....h3ll, I don't have a reason at all.....everyone is just super-duper frustrated about all of these changes that have happened to our family at once. (Now don't get me wrong....we love the chaos of having a toddler and a newborn. I wouldn't change a thing! We love these girls so much, I get choked up just thinking about it.)
Then, I stopped, took a deep breath and announced to hubby: "She's not ready and we're all too frustrated. Let's just take a break from potty training."
And all three of us breathed a sigh of relief...it will be ok....she can use it when she wants to, but we're aren't going to hog-tie her to the potty.
Now, I'm going to ask her to forgive me. Just because I'm ready for her to use the potty 100% of the time, doesn't mean that she is. I'm going to back up, and let her do her thing....she won't go to high school in Pull-Ups (right?? In my current overly exhausted state, I could see me now scouring the internet for juniors' size 3 training pants for my 14 year old to wear under her skinny-jeans...I mean, I did just have a nightmare about her not being able to read and write at 7 and getting kicked out of high school....yes, high school at age 7).
Here's to hoping that I don't impart my own personal neuroses on my sweet little girl! I just keep reminding myself, "She's two. TWO! Not 12, not 15....she's my sweet potato Katie-Pie. And I'm going to enjoy all of the moments with her that I can....
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