My Dear Friend

Tags

cry, friends, holiday, laugh, loss, romantic

I will be wearing black today and I will probably cry at some point…not because I’m cynical…(RANT: ok I am – I just can’t afford to burn any more energy or precious brain cells dwelling on life, love, blah blah blah…think about it – who’s sick idea was it to put a “romantic” holiday in the middle of frigid February…just weeks before the suicide rate starts to climb? And it’s only 52 days after Christmas (which means if you disappointed your partner with your Christmas gift, this is a great way to remind them of that and/or disappoint them again! END RANT)… but because it’s a time honoured tradition.

Valentine’s Day has sucked in the past – disappointments, break-ups, “missing” dates, lonely nights longing for love, harsh words, bitter tears…you get the picture! I’m certainly not alone here. But I have another “good” reason to dislike V-day. I miss my best friend!

My dear friend and I became inseparable friends in Grade 6…we had to band together to survive our 6th grade teacher. She was…something else! We had to band together in high school too – that was…something else! We shared everything (except boyfriends – she was straight but not interested). I could tell her everything and she would be honest without being brutal. She told me things too – like why she wasn’t a virgin, or that just before we became friends, she had planned her suicide, right down to the note and it was only a matter of days. That was in Grade 8. She went with me to buy a pregnancy test in Grade 10. We could tell each other everything…

Even when I went to college and she moved away, and we didn’t speak for months at a time, when we did speak it was if no time had passed. We could pick up right where we left off! I even wrote her fictitious stories of life in our “hick town” and she would teach me about life in the big city (like how to pick a hooker out of a crowd). We just got each other in all our weird and wonderful ways!

My dear friend died in a single car accident on V-Day. Her car slipped on the ice and went over the underpass. Ironically, she was on her way to a bereavement group meeting, having lost her parents 8 months before when their truck collided with not 1, but 2 passenger trains. She had spent the day at her parents’ house with her siblings sorting through stuff. Her brother told me at the funeral that she had talked about me that day, how we had met at a mall at Christmas and I had made her laugh…and how good that had felt! A few weeks later, he passed on some pictures and things she had set aside to take home with her – pictures of us being the goofy girls that we were. We had just turned 23!

I was married 2 months after my dear friend lost her parents, and although I didn’t receive an RSVP from her, I included her in my guest list. The day before, I got a call from my Mom – she was coming! I imagine it was difficult for her to come, but she was best wedding present and I got to tell her so!

My dear friend and I agreed many (many) years ago, that we would “rebel” every Valentine’s Day by wearing black, and with the exception of one year in college when my Mom bribed me with a gorgeous red dress (which was the same year my date cancelled on Valentine’s Day), I have worn black. And without a doubt, if my dear friend was still alive, she would too…and we would laugh…and that would feel so good!

But it’s Gluten-Free…

Tags

chocolate, cry, food, humour, shopping

I have to start today’s post with a small warning: I started my gluten-free “diet” yesterday and I’m a little whiny. That’s because I’m starving to death… If, at some point, you notice that I haven’t posted in a few days (thank you for noticing), one of several things may have happened:
If no posts:
(a) I have “fallen off the wagon” and binged…I am now in a chocolate-induced coma. Please know this – I am happy!
(b) I have passed out from starvation and hit my head. Hospital “food” resembles food…I am happy!
(c) I am curled up in the fetal position, rocking on the floor in the grocery store (Aisle 5), next to the Organic/Gluten-Free sign (Hubby suggested I try this one in a sexy dress. Maybe some creepy guy would pick me up…I think that’s his subtle way of saying “I don’t want to listen to your whining. I’ll get him back though – I’m not cooking 2 meals every day, so he’s going to go gluten-free some too!). If they come for and put me in a rubber room, presumably, at some point I’ll be fed…I am happy!

Yesterday was Day One and I planned to start it with gluten free cereal. It has corn syrup in it (and corn is not my friend) but I thought I’d give it a try. You have no idea how glad I was that I tested my lactose-free milk by pouring a bit in the kitchen sink. Yup! Chunks…appetite waning! What to eat? Cinnabon toast! What an auspicious start!

I went for a long walk before grabbing a snack on way out the door to get groceries…A slim cholesterol-free, gluten-free, wheat-free, vegan, 0% fat rice cake…aka Styrofoam!

The grocery store had a few selections of gluten free items, but they were spread out so you had to hunt for it. I found hot cereal mix…made with corn flour. No! I found gluten-free all-purpose flour – I could bake…but it’s made from corn flour. No! I found chocolate chip cookies…made with corn flour. No!!! By now I was seriously considering staging a “sit-in”, in the grocery store…or just sitting down for a good old-fashioned cry! I bought some gluten-free brownie mix instead and I’m saving them for a day when I’m desperate. There’s a good chance it will be today!

I had salad for lunch! My dressing likely had some wheat in it. I don’t care! Salad is not a solution…my digestion does not take kindly to “too much” fruit and veggies…so I will have to find some other options and fast! I tried the cereal at bedtime and you have to eat it fast before it goes soggy. A house centipede ran across the kitchen floor when I was fixing my cereal. I stifled a scream and pointed it out to Hubby, who stepped, wriggled and smeared it across the floor. I said, “I feel sick…but I’m still hungry” to which he replied, “but it’s gluten-free”.

 I’m starving!

And so begins Day Two…

Rude Awakening

Tags

cleaning, cry, driving, faith, family, red cars

Yesterday morning, I discovered that I can still move with catlike agility through a dark room (littered with toys) to get to the phone in what feels like the middle of the night because your kid is leaving this message: “I’m ok…but my car, not so much…yeah, it’s totalled…”. It was only 6:15 a.m., not the middle of the night, but I wasn’t going back to sleep! We only got to talk for a few minutes because he had to go, but after we hung up, I curled up on the couch under a blanket, with my Bible. I was too shaken to even open it. I was very aware that this phone call, this rude awakening, could have been “the call” dreaded by all parents.

When I was 16, my uncle died in a car accident. My Mom took “the call”. It was the only time I have ever seen her really lose it and at the time I was frightened by the power of her raw emotions.

When I was 23, on my first Valentine’s Day as a married lady, I got a “call” – I was cooking a romantic dinner and a friend called to tell me that my best friend’s car had slipped on ice and gone over the overpass. My best friend’s parents had died in a car accident only 8 months before. I remained in control and supported my friend through that call, but when I hung up and called Hubby, I lost the ability to speak. The power of raw emotion.

When I am upset, I clean; I have to keep busy. If I had stayed home yesterday instead of running errands (in the wind and rain), my house would be immaculate by now. When I was at home, I carried the phone around with me in case Big Guy called. I caught myself on the verge of tears all day, the “what ifs” playing out in the back of my mind. How easily we go about our day, oblivious to just how quickly a piece of our heart can be torn apart, leaving a scar that never really fades. It is a rude awakening. We are not made to remain in this world, but how we cling to it. God could have taken Big Guy home yesterday… While I trust that God would help me to survive such a great loss, every part of me claws and screams against that very idea, even though Big Guy does not belong to me. The power of raw emotion.

The car is replaceable – Big Guy is not! Big Guy’s injuries are minor considering the force of the impact. He was blessed with many calls from people he’s only known a short time – a testament to his character. It will be a challenge for him to find a replacement car, and the cost (and amount of paperwork) is yet to be determined. But this morning, I am just thankful! My family is intact, my heart is whole…and my house is…still a mess!

No More “Moo” Suit

Tags

bathing suit, cry, fashion, humour, shopping

There are certain items of clothing which most women hate shopping for, regardless of age, shape, or style. Maybe it’s because the mirrors in those tiny change room leave no room to the imagination…or maybe it’s because lycra is so unforgiving…but very, very few women enjoy shopping for the dreaded bathing suit. One piece, tankini, bikini – I don’t care if you’re size 2 or size 12, there’s something about bathing suit shopping that just makes us feel vulnerable! I usually end up empty handed and heavy hearted (more like a limp dish rag, sobbing inconsolably)!

We’re taking Little Guy on for a mini vacation…to a big indoor waterpark. I don’t like to be cold, I don’t like to be wet, and I definitely don’t like to appear in public in a bathing suit. And even though I bought a new suit last year (from a catalogue), it is rated PG-13…so Saturday afternoon, after a great deal of hemming and hawing, I went shopping for a G-rated suit!

I didn’t follow my own rules for shopping. I didn’t “dress for success” which was just as well…by the time I parked and walked into the shopping centre I looked like a cross between a dumpy “soccer Mom” and a wet dog! It was raining. I did pop in a cd on the way over with loud, “rocker-chick” music to attempt to feel “empowered”. It just gave me a headache!

I started by giving myself permission to browse through my favourite clothing store before heading to where I might find dreaded suits. I browsed a long time. I finally headed into a lingerie store thinking “don’t buy a ‘moo’ suit”. I should explain! A few years ago I bought a one-piece bathing suit reminiscent of the 1950’s, in a white and black floral print. I thought I was daring to wear such a vibrant print. But in talking to Hubby right before heading out the door, I found out it had reminded him of a cow print. Why would anyone who’s self-conscious in a bathing suit wear a cow print? Then he suggested I go for “leopard”.

The sales clerk in the first store tried to be helpful. I didn’t even care about colour or pattern…just fit! The difficulty is that I am tiny around but I am “heavy” on top (that was her remark, just the type I need to here right before stripping down and strapping on lycra) so any bathing suit with postage stamp cups won’t work! I tried on several suits including a white, green and purple horizontal stripe print (yeah…that’s flattering, she says dripping sarcasm). I made a hurried exit and headed to a bathing suit store, determined not to hold tightly to my self-fulfilling prophesy that this would all end badly!

At store #2, the 12 year old sales clerk was too busy eating noodles and talking on the phone to pay any attention to me…I kind of liked that! And this store had some actual sizes, not just XL. I picked through suits held together with strings, backless numbers, strapless numbers, with a mounting sense of dread. I finally resolved to try the 3 “least objectionable and most likely to succeed” and crawled into the dark, back corner change room. The first suit was a snake skin print (it was the closest I could get to leopard) and it looked ok, although it was still PG-13. I later described it to Hubby as something I could wear in a Whitesnake video, and I could hear him shudder through the phone! The next print was a cute suit with black & white checks and lace…I could hear Hubby asking me why I bought a tablecloth…so moving on…

To make a long story short, the last suit was the best suit. It’s a strapless tankini with black bottoms and a printed top…it comes with straps so it will remain G-Rated. The top has horizontal stripes (I know, I know…) but they’re very thin and brightly coloured – orange, red, black, gold, white… no postage stamp cups…I’m happy and I’ve worked up the nerve to show Hubby. I hope I have the nerve to wear it in public now…and no, I won’t post pictures, at least not with me in it! But I can say, no more “moo” suit!

 

 

 

From The Sublime To The Ridiculous

Tags

confession, cry, faith, family, laugh, spider

It has been an emotionally and physically exhausting week, but it has also had its share of goofy things too.

The Sublime: As many of you know, my Grandfather passed away late last week and I am staying at my parents, along with both of my kids, and my Grandma. Grandma is exhausted and very confused. At first, we had to take turns explaining to her what happened to Grandpa…she remembered that he was gone, but not always what happened. Watching her grieve the loss of her sweetheart of nearly 65 years has been difficult, and when she kissed him good-bye, I nearly fell apart.

The Ridiculous:

(1) Musical Beds: Little Guy & I shared a room this visit and I brought my large electric fan with me to drown out noises. I made him a bed on the floor, but the first night he crawled into my bed and went to sleep. My Dad moved Little Guy, but he crawled back in with me shortly after I went to bed. After 3 hours of being punched in the face…a lot, and having my hair pulled…I curled up on the floor and got a couple of hours of sleep. The next night I put Little Guy to bed in my bed, and he moved himself to the floor…with all 5 pillows! He crawled in again the third night, but he behaved, and has since gone to sleep in my bed and my Dad does a “body dump” (i.e., moves Little Guy back to the floor bed) when I’m ready to sleep. The room is so full we can hardly move around, but we are making it work!

(2) Showers & Spiders: I confess I’m scared of spiders… Little Guy knows it so I’m trying not to make a big deal around them. I tell them that if they stay put, I’ll leave them alone, but the big Daddy Long-Legs who was hanging out over the shower stall didn’t listen. I thought it was brave of me to even get into the stall and start my shower, but when the spider started moving around, I left in a big hurry. What to do? I grabbed a towel and went looking for my Dad, but he was busy. Plan B: I’ll have to brush it away from the shower stall and deal with the consequences of where it went later (particularly with respect to the pajamas I’m going to put on). So there I am, holding my “tiny” towel (at least that’s how it felt) in front of company, next to my great-aunt, who is holding a dog on a leash, while we both try to force the hall closet doors open so I can get the broom to brush it down. Fortunately Dad came to the rescue!

3) LOL Moment: My brother and I shared a good laugh out loud moment in the middle of my Grandfather’s wake…my cousins were giving us weird looks, but it was too hard to stifle it. This old gentleman came in that we knew from way back, wearing light blue plaid pants, hiked up under his armpits, and held up with suspenders. My brother said, “Only so-and-so could get away with those pants”. Maybe you had to be there…

And finally….
4) Pants: Big Guy came on Monday morning in time for the wake. He brought at least 4 loads of stinky laundry, as well as his dress shoes, shirt, tie, suit jacket…and no pants! Did I mention he was a pall-bearer? I think his pants got tired of waiting at the bottom of a large load of laundry, so they got up and walked away. We found a clean t-shirt and shorts for Big Guy to wear to the wake, and I’ve been doing a load a night for the rest of the week. That meant Tuesday morning (the day of the funeral), at 8 a.m., we were heading to the one store in town that might have dress pants in Big Guy’s size. As I am checking the racks, one pair at a time, I was praying. They all seemed to be large waists and short legs! Blessings – we found one pair that would fit with a belt. It would be tempting to assume that story ends here, but not so! Big Guy brought a belt but it must have been from his Grade 8 graduation – it was at least 6″ too short. My Dad had to punch holes in one of his belts, and they mustn’t have found the correct spot the first time…or the second time. We were standing by the door, ready to head to the funeral home while my Dad is thumping away downstairs with a hammer. Who comes to a funeral with no pants?

I am heading back to the city this weekend. It’s been a long week, but while we have cried together, we have certainly laughed together too. It’s all part of gathering as a family to celebrate.

Grandpa’s Suit

Tags

cry, family

It was the first thing I saw when I walked in the door at my parent’s place late Friday afternoon – my Grandpa’s brown suit on a hanger, with a red tie wrapped around the hook. It was hanging on the closet door, the little Canadian flag pin in his left lapel, as always. He loved Canada Day, and he loved the colour red.

My Dad called Thursday night to say that my Grandpa had passed away. Little Guy and I headed down Friday afternoon, a horrendously long trip in holiday stop-and-go traffic. Little Guy also managed to spill Pepsi everywhere (we are notably a family of Coke drinkers)…not once, but twice. And the air conditioning in my car doesn’t work when it’s going under 20 km/hr (which was a large portion of what should have been a 2 hour trip but took over 4 hours) and the humidex hit 36C. I’m not sure if it was cooler inside or outside the car. I desperately needed to be home.

Grandpa’s suit hung on the closet door the rest of the day. It was here, but he was not. I helped my Mom cover it with plastic Friday evening for its journey to the funeral home. Mom was overwhelmed, so I offered to go with my Dad in her place. Safe delivery of that suit and his personal effects, including his wedding ring, became so very important. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s just because there is so little I can do to help those I love who are hurting so very much.

I don’t know when or how often I will be writing, but writing is something that may help me. I will try to slip away and play the piano for a few minutes too. We’re just going to take it hour by hour, one pot of tea at a time.

A Strong Woman

Tags

Bible, cry, faith, home, poem

A strong woman is a woman who carries the burdens of her hurting world on her shoulders –
the broken heart of a friend,
the shattered dreams of a child.

She laughs with those who laugh, and cries with those who cry.

She desires for her home to be a sanctuary for her family. She binds the broken hearted, she encourages the weary and she presses on in the race of daily life.

She is bleeding and bruised inside, with a smile on her lips and a hug in her arms. She goes unappreciated, unnoticed, sometimes reviled, ridiculed, sometimes rejected…but she goes on because she loves deeply.

A strong woman carries her burdens to God daily, knowing that He alone can be trusted to see her…to see how very weak she is in her own strength, and how very strong she is in Him.

“I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength.” Phil. 4:13
*September 5, 2003

Dolce Far Niente

Tags

blessing, cry, family, home, movies

“Dolce far niente” means “idleness” in Italian (or so google translate tells me) – the sweetness of doing nothing. Instead of a “manic Monday”, I spent a large part of it with Big Guy, not doing much of anything. And it was sweet. We watched 2 movies – one was funny and one was scary – snacking on pop and chips! So often when Big Guy visits, he is just stopping by on his way somewhere else, and while that’s ok (I’m glad he has friends and a “life”), we don’t get the longer periods of time when it’s just the two of us. Sometimes I miss just hanging out…the sweetness of doing nothing! After all, for the first few years of his life, it felt like it was the “two of us against the world”. I was a single Mom with a lot of family support, but I still felt the responsibility.

Anyway, it was sweet but the time passed too quickly. Big Guy headed back to his apartment and I headed to the school…where I had a good cry. Can’t be helped! There’s another great expression – “Home is where your heart is” but I find these days, my heart is in many homes. It’s in my parents’ home, missing some of those happy times and knowing that everything is changing, and I’m not there to be a support in return. It is in my home, loving and supporting Hubby and Little Guy. And a part of it has moved out to another city. Elizabeth Stone said, “Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body”. It may be part of the stage I’m at, part of midlife, but it can still hurt sometimes.

Anyway, my goal today is to not be idle! I appreciated the rest and the laughter, but my house won’t clean itself. I have class material to prepare, music to plan, and life to be lived. And with any luck, I will be free to enjoy some dolce far niente this evening.

A Good Cry

Tags

cry, humour, laugh, tea

A good laugh can feel great, but a good cry can feel fantastic! But what do you do when the person crying is your cashier at the grocery store? Apparently she’d had been the victim of an altercation with a co-worker the day before, and she was clearly still very upset about it. She almost made me cry…almost!

My Mom said that as a kid I could turn tears on and off like a switch. Crocodile tears streaming down the face of a rosy-cheeked, rosebud mouthed little girl is cute. It’s not so cute on a 40 year old.

I can say that there haven’t been any recent incidences (i.e., in the past few years) where bewildered Hubby is exasperated because he doesn’t know why I’m crying…and frankly, neither do I! If he knew what the problem was, he could suggest ways to fix it. He reasonably suggests that since I don’t know why I’m crying, I should stop crying. It is a reasonable suggestion except to a drenched, red-faced sobbing lunatic!

I’m finding I’m getting weepier with age. I hope it’s just raging hormones and not a demented form of nostalgia moving in (at least not yet). I used to be accused of having a stony heart. OK. I didn’t cry when Melanie died in Gone With the Wind. But I did cry when Robin Williams’ movie, Mrs. Doubtfire, won an Academy Award for Costume Design & Make-up! In my defence, I was a teenaged lunatic with raging hormones! When you are in the position of confidante, counsellor, parent, or just plain “adult”, sometimes you have to “keep it together” for the other person (at least to a point). You have to set your own thought and feelings aside in order to focus on the other person. Rise to the occasion! Stiff upper lip! Whether you fall apart later is up to you. Someone has to be reasonable some of the time. Right?

A good cry can clear your head and wash your soul. It can allow you to begin again. I’ve tried to explain it this way. Burden a kettle with water and add heat. Soon the heat increases, the water gets agitated and the pressure rises. Ka-boom! Out comes a loud, irritating wailing noise. When you move the kettle and let the steam settle, the wailing stops. Then it’s time to blow your nose, take a deep breath, and make a cup of tea. After all, Bernard-Paul Heroux said “There is no trouble so great or grave that cannot be much diminished by a nice cup of tea”. If it had been said by a woman, she might have dared to add “a good cry and a nice cup of tea”.

Laugh or Cry

Tags

cry, family, laugh, seniors

Last week I was looking backwards 20 years to when my Big Guy was born. This week I’ve been looking forward 20 years and wondering if I’ll be supporting my parents the way they are supporting my grandparents.

My Grandparents were ill for quite awhile before Christmas with some kind of virus. The week before Christmas, Nana spent a night in the hospital. It was a long night for Papa since they have hardly been apart in over 60 years. Then a few days before Christmas, Papa ended up in the hospital (and he was vocally unhappy about it). Nana was happy to tuck it at my parents’ place, but it meant that my Mom was behind on all the last minute Christmas preparations. I am so thankful I could head down a bit early and take over some of the cooking and cleaning.

We’ve kind of dubbed this past Christmas as “the laugh or cry Christmas”. Both grandparents stayed at my parents’ place, which meant a very full house. Mom posted on Facebook that we were having a “Walton’s Christmas” with 4 generations under one roof. Lots of silly little things made us laugh, but it also opened our eyes to how quickly my grandparents had deteriorated, and how much more help they needed, more than they were willing to admit. I think they drove us all nuts nattering loudly at each other – they can’t hear each other, even with their hearing aids on!

Both of my parents went to church Christmas morning (after the kids’ opened their stockings and a couple of gifts so they’d have something to do). I stayed home to “granny sit”. Papa felt terrible and wanted to sleep but Nana kept waking him up to make sure he was ok. Let’s just say I quickly appreciated why Mom needed the break! By the afternoon, Papa’s health started to deteriorate again, and we spent part of the day trying to decide whether to call an ambulance. Fortunately he perked up!

We left on Boxing Day to visit my in-laws, and the battle for my grandparents’ car was in full swing when we headed out. Since then, they are home again, but my Mom has had to visit several times a day, field distressing phone calls, travel to various appointments, help with meals, and dole out their medication so it’s all kept straight. It’s a daunting task, and one that I know she endeavours to perform with love and patience. After all, as frustrating and stubborn as they can be, they are still her parents.

They have finally agreed to move into a retirement residence, where they will get more support, but can still be independent. It’s a huge step, and one that I hope I will have the grace to make when the time comes. My Mom has told me that when they get to that point, just shoot them! I don’t think it will come to that! But I can see where she’s coming from – I certainly don’t want to be a nuisance or a burden to my kids (assuming they still like me by then)! I have really wished that I could be closer to help my Mom with all this – not just the phone calls and visits, but also in wrapping her head around the fact that her parents are no longer able to do everything themselves.

The big move is this weekend, and I wish I could be there to help. But I know that extra bodies, especially 6 year old ones, would just get in the way. I can’t imagine trying to sort through over 80 years worth of “stuff”…but then, if I were to move tomorrow and I couldn’t take everything with me, I know there’s a lot that I could leave behind with no regrets. Maybe that’s how we should all live… packing lightly and carrying treasures like memories instead. This Christmas wasn’t at all like I had imagined it would be, but I will never forget helping Nana put on make-up Christmas morning, or helping her make coleslaw with the electric food processor – we made quite a mess, and we had a lot of laughs doing it.