These Girls...

Smells and Sunsets

Yesterday on my drive home, I passed a landscape supply company and the earthy, rich smell of wood chips and mulch reminded me of Dad.  It was like a punch in the stomach and it took me the rest of my ride home to recover.

Then after dinner my daughter and I went for a bike ride on a path along a little stream not far from my house.  As I was pedaling on the footbridge that crosses the stream, I saw the sunset reflected on the water, and I knew that Dad was with me.

Happy Mother's Day

A Sonnet for My Incomparable Mother  I often contemplate my childhood, Mom.
I am a mother now, and so I know
Hard work is mixed together with the fun;
You learned that when you raised me long ago. I think of all the things you gave to me:
Sacrifice, devotion, love and tears,
Your heart, your mind, your energy and soul--
All these you spent on me throughout the years. You loved me with a never-failing love
You gave me strength and sweet security,
And then you did the hardest thing of all:
You let me separate and set me free. Every day, I try my best to be
A mother like the mom you were to me. By Joanna Fuchs

As I lounge in bed sipping coffee and nibbling breakfast pastries with my baby beside me, I am reflecting on Motherhood.  My Mother was the most incredible example for me.  She is patient, generous, loving, strong, capable, caring, and all the words in the world that equal the feeling you get from a warm hug from your Mom.  I love my Mother for all the gifts that she has given and all the lessons that she has taught me in my life.  I know that letting me live my life and make my own mistakes was so hard for her, but being the Mother that she is, she let me.  Then when it was time, she was always there to pick me up, dust me off and help me find the right way.  As a Mother now, I know that I have a lot of hard work ahead of me, but I am so thankful and grateful that I have my Mother beside me to help me along the way.

I love you, Mom. 

Okay... So Now What?

As I sit in the warm Spring sunshine on my deck this morning I realize it is quiet, beautiful and the day is full of promise.  Naturally, I have been thinking about the loss of my Father, and how much of an adjustment it has been.  But not in the big, obvious, "my Father passed away" ways, but in the small, subtle ways that I never thought of before.  The way that I have to carefully change my words when I talk to my Mom and ask her if she lost power during the storms, instead of "did you guys" lose power.  The way that a picture in my living room catches my eye and I realize that I will never see that sideways glance my Dad gave us when someone was saying something he thought was a little crazy.

So now what?  All the out of town guests are gone, the services and ceremony are over, the food is consumed, and life is supposed to go back to "normal".  But it's not normal.  It's very, very different.  I know that I am not the only person to have ever lost a parent, but I am having trouble figuring out what the new "normal" is.  I feel like all of us are smothering my Mother, because this has to be indescribably difficult for her.  But part of that is our way of coping also.  It is not that we feel her incapable of doing things for herself, my Mother is the single most capable woman that I know.  But if we can do something around the house to make the absence of Dad easier, that is what we do.  I have never, ever cut the grass at my own house, but I find myself being more than willing to do so at hers, although my brother seems to have that completely under control... (Except, now that I think about it, I don't think he cuts his own his grass, either!)

The next two months, in particular, will be very hard for us.  Mother's Day, my birthday, Father's Day and his birthday are coming up.  His loss will be profound during these times.  I knew, but never comprehended, what a monumentally huge part of my life my Father's presence was.  I think of him so often and see him everywhere I look. I know that he, his influence in my life, and me as a person will be felt always.  I just hope that it doesn't ache like this forever.

Writer's Block

The next two days will probably be the hardest two days of my life so far.  I have had a couple days to get ready, but I could not feel more unprepared.  Really... how does one prepare to say their final goodbyes to a parent?

My Mom asked me to write down some things about Dad to give to the Chaplin performing his funeral service so that he will know what kind of man Dad was.  I have been sitting here thinking and I am having a lot of trouble completing this task.  Not because I am unable to come up with many, many wonderful reasons that my Father was a tremendous man, but because I cannot come up with the right words to properly express what I want to say.  The words just don't say enough... they just don't seem adequate, there are no words big enough to relay to someone who did not know Dad personally what a great man he was.  It is a rare moment when I am at a loss of words, but that is where I find myself right now.

I wish you were here, Dad, to tell me that the words don't matter.  That anyone who knew you already knows that there are no words to describe you.  You were amazing.  And I miss you.

June 15, 1942 - April 11, 2011

A lifetime. My Father's lifetime. Today, my Family stood surrounding my Father and watched as he slipped quietly into eternal rest.  I am at peace with it because I know that he is now at peace and there will be no more suffering for him.

I held his hand, and remembered the times he held mine.  I remembered all the things he built with those hands and the gentle care they took of my Mother when she was sick, and my baby when she was small.  I touched his feet, and remembered all the miles he has walked.  I remembered the steps those feet took in rhythm with mine as he walked me down the aisle on my wedding day.  I touched his legs, once muscular and powerful, and remembered the ladders he climbed to fix things, or to retrieve a wayward basketball stuck on the roof.  I touched his arms, and remembered how they hugged me every time I saw him.  I remembered how he would cross them across his chest when he was standing and getting ready to tell a long story.  I touched his face and remembered all the smiles and laughter that seemed always present when he was around.  I touched his chest, that held the biggest heart of anyone I have ever known.  The heart that held all that is good and meaningful in the world and that overflowed with love for his Wife, his Children, his Grandchildren, his Family and his Friends.

My Father's lifetime did not end today.  He will live on for many more lifetimes because a man like my Father will never truly die- he lives on in us.  In every hand we hold, every decision we make, every hug we give our children, every smile and every step we take. 

Rest peacefully now, Dad.  I love you.

André Paré

June 15, 1942 - April 11, 2011

Driving Ms. Crazy

I like driving. Alone. All by myself.  I like listening to the music I like and singing along at the top of my lungs in traffic.  I also enjoy having quiet time alone with my thoughts to reflect.  On Monday, I had some of that quiet time driving down to Georgetown to see Dad.  From my house it takes about 90 minutes one way if there isn't any traffic.  That's about 3 hours for me to think, play the drums on my steering wheel, change CDs and sing to strangers at stop lights.  Here is a peek into my brain at some of my thoughts and reflections on the last 6 months.

• I do not understand the need people feel to jam on their brakes on 270 when they see a cop on the far side of the opposite lanes of traffic with someone already pulled over on the shoulder.  He doesn't care about you. He's already busy.  He's not going to sprint across 8 lanes of traffic to get your plate number and issue you a ticket.  Just go already.
• I really need to get a new battery for my XM radio remote control.
• For a state of the art, wickedly expensive medical university, it seems incredibly stupid to me that Georgetown only has one MRI machine.  During the day they use it for outpatient imaging and then at night, all hours of night, the inpatients get to take a turn.  Damned inconvenient if you're trying to sleep.  And guess what else? Their MRI machine cannot accommodate obese people.  If you don't fit in the machine, they ship you to... guess where!  The National Zoo. Yep, that's right. The Zoo.  As in Elephants, Pandas and Gazelles, oh my!
• I had no inkling of an clue how much my family's life was going to change on September 17, 2010.  How one phone call and seven little words devastatingly whispered by my mother would flip everything around.  I would have liked to have been more prepared... but I can't see how anything can prepare you to hear "Dad has a mass in his brain".
• My husband does not kiss me nearly enough.
• What am I going to make for dinner?  I am in a serious rut in this regard.  I used to do all this meal planning and knew what was for dinner 2 weeks in advance.  I just can't seem to get it together lately with that and end up throwing anything together I can manage.  It's getting pretty monotonous and repetitive.  Maybe that's why my husband doesn't kiss me. He doesn't like what was for dinner! Hmmm.
• I really need to clean the inside of my windows.  Hines is a window licker.
• Even though I complain and have a hard time adjusting to daylight savings time, I really do like it when it is still light out for a while once I get home from work.  But DST is just such an odd concept.  And what happens when you live in an area that doesn't observe it and work in an area that does?  Do you feel like Marty McFly when you arrive for work an hour earlier than you left home?  Do flux capacitors come standard on cars sold in that area?
• I love love love love love my Adidas sneakers.
• When I blow my nose sometimes, air comes out of my eye.  Only on the left side.  There is a connection between your maxillary sinus and your tear ducts which has a valve in it.  Since having this nasty sinus infection from hell, I discovered that when your sinuses are too full and there is too much pressure, that valve can get blocked open and snot can come out of your eye.  You can't make this stuff up, people.  It is really disgusting and rather alarming.
• Danny Elfman has scored a ridiculous amount of movies.  But Howard Shore is still my favorite.
• People really need to use blinkers more consistently and more effectively.
• Montgomery County changes more every time I go through there.  Now there is some fancy schmancy toll road connecting the county.  I haven't tried it out yet, but it's on the bucket list.
• One day I am going to Georgetown and actually see more than the inside of the hospital.  Maddie thought that the University looked like Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry when you approach from the Key Bridge.  I kinda wish it were, so they could brew a potion or cast a spell and make Dad better again.
• I used to have floor mats in my car, but I have no idea where they are, or what happened to them.
• I really need to burn my Ultimate Rock CD Volume Six featuring songs from Stryper circa 1986 and Megadeth circa 1992.

Maybe it wasn't such a great idea to let you peek... even I am a little disturbed... but I have already typed all this and I'd hate to not share.  Inquiring minds want to know.  Well, they thought they wanted to know, but turns out they wish they didn't now.  Anywho, maybe someone can tell me what happened to my floor mats!