a bit of Fall

Atleast my trip home wasn't all sad, tearful, and gloomy. I got the chance to enjoy the fall season North Carolina style. Cool crisp jacket weather and beautifully changing leaves. Lot's different than October weekends spent at the beach in a bikini and palm trees sporting their bright green palm fronds year round. That's pretty much what you get in Florida so it was nice to get a small taste of what fall is really supposed to be like... and I already can't wait to go back at Thanksgiving!!

Not me Monday!!

There's this blog that I somehow stumbled upon one day and absolutely love. She started this whole "Not me Monday" craze so I thought "What the hell. Why not give it a try?!" Surely not as cute and well written as hers... but nevertheless here's my first shot...
I did NOT wait until thirty minutes before I left for North Carolina to pack my stuff. Nope NOT me. I am so well organized and on top of things that I would have packed the night before, therefore I would have noticed that all of my funeral appropriate attire was still hanging in my closet at the ex husband's house. So then I most certainly did NOT have to go shopping for something to wear to the funeral at the last minute. This last minute shopping trip did NOT lead me to Target to the little girls' section. Where I definitely did NOT buy two skirts in a girl's size large or otherwise known as a 10-12. Because an almost 27 year old woman would NOT be caught dead buying and wearing a little girl's skirt. How embarrassing would that be? Nor would I ever throw my dad under the bus and embarrass him or anything by mentioning that he put on his suit jacket for the funeral and pulled my high school graduation program out of the pocket. NO way would I tell you that happened because that would mean he hasn't washed his one and only suit jacket since 2001 at least. Impossible! And best of all NO one's boss would ever request that they bring proof of the funeral back to work with them. And since NO boss would ever be that insensitive to someone who's grandma just died I did NOT seriously contemplate taking pictures of my grandmother's open casket and then dropping them down on her desk in front of her upon my return to work as the required proof!! I would never think evil thoughts like that. NOT me!

simply surviving

Somedays you simply survive. From start to finish you're just glad that you made it through. Today was one of those days. My family laid my grandmother to rest today. Today we offically said goodbye. Today was in my mother's own words, "the hardest day of her life." I hated every moment of it but I wouldn't have chosen to be anywhere else. Today my mom needed me. My family needed me. My dad, as he remembered the loss of his mom just one short year ago, needed me. I don't think of myself as strong. As independent. As someone who can hold it together. Capable of carrying others along. Today I had to be all of that and more. I had to stand there, tears in my own eyes, wiping my mothers tears away. I had to hold her hand. Give my dad a reassuring hug. Smile and help my brother along. Many times all 108 pounds of me had to literally hold my mom up on her feet. Whisper encouragement to her. Help her place one foot in front of the other as we followed behind my grandmother's casket. At times I held her to me like I do the little kids in my class simply because she needed me to. I had to be her rock. I had to be strong for her. I had to help her survive this worst moment of her life. I wanted to crumble. I wanted to run and hide. I wanted to fall apart, because seeing my mom hurt like that was heartbreaking. Coming undone wasn't an option for me. I couldn't lean on anyone... not when my mom needed to lean on me. I'll never forget today... nor the moments that made me realize that I really am grown up now. That at times I really can be all I need to be and more. I never wanted to live today... but perhaps I had to... it helped me see a glimspe of what I'm really made of... I'm stronger than I give myself credit for. Today and the past six months have taught me that... or maybe it's the opposite... maybe the past six months and today is what has made me strong... either way... it may have been one of the hardest things I've had to do but I'm glad that I was able to stand side by side with my mom and be the person who she needed me to be. I'll never forget today. And I'll always be thankful that my family and I simply managed to survive it.

the things we say

Several well meaning funeral goers approach my mom and say, "Effie Mae looks so nice." "Very pretty." Etc. etc. and various comments meaning the same thing...
To which my mom would give the same deadpan response, "She just looks dead to me."

What I've learned Wednesdays...

Leaning heavily on his cane my grandfather stood in front of my grandmother's casket. I stood back as far from the open casket as possible, standing on one side of my mom, my dad on the other, both of us trying to hold her up. My grandfather just stood there. Staring as if trying to wrap his alzheimer ridden mind around the scene in front of him. His wife of sixty years laid out before him. Which is possibly the cruelest trick of all. His mind functions mostly in the past. So he forgets... forgets that his wife is gone... he'll turn to my mom, aunt, or cousin Laura and ask "Where is Effie Mae? When is she coming home?" To which of course the heartbreaking reply is, "Remember she passed away sunday night. You're going to get to see her in heaven." Suddenly he's forced to relive losing her all over again. But this specific time, in this moment, as he stands on unsteady legs in front of his wife's body he knows she's gone. Realizes she isn't coming back. If alzheimers and life was being at all fair he would forget and forget forever... but it's not fair... in this life it's only cruel. And so he stands there. Staring down at her, silently looking, tears streaming down his face. He slowly reaches out his hand to touch her and in that moment I think I hate God. Hate what he is putting this man through. Hate that my dad and I have to physically hold my mother up to keep her from collasping on the floor. Hate that my grandpa is crying. That my uncles are crying. My aunt and her daughter are crying. My mom is crying. And worst of all my dad whose so strong and so tough, always our rock is crying. He's crying for us and I know his crying for his mom who he just lost last October. I hate that I don't understand. That I can't see the big picture. I hate that I don't see the sense in all of this. I hate that I have to see my grandmother in an open casket. Hate that my grandfather now feels all alone. Hate that my mom feels like she lost her best friend. Hate that people are always left with regrets. Hate that I can't do anything. Hate that today is simply the day from hell. Hate that I've got to wake up tomorrow and do it all over again. Hate that everything always ends. And I espcially hate having to say goodbye. I hate that I've simply hated everything about today. I guess some days in life are like that. I suppose I should feel blessed that days like this have been few and far between for me. But right now, in this moment, on this Wednesday I've learned that sometimes you just can't get past the hate to appreciate anything else... and sometimes...on some days... hating everything just might be okay.

Not about me

As I laid there tonight feeling sorry for myself I had a thought. (I know... me... thinking, what a scary thought in itself!) Here I am feeling sorry for MYSELF and feeling all ALONE... but why is it all about ME, ME, ME, ME!?! When it should be all about them. My mom and aunt and uncles who just lost a mother. My grandfather, who has alzhiemers and was completly dependent on his wife. How must they feel. I try to put myself in their shoes and I can't even begin to imagine what they're going through right now. I hate that I get so caught up in ME that it takes me hours to get over MYSELF and think about them. I'm trying to get it together here... they are what is most important right now. Not me, not feeling alone, not losing a grandmother... but those closest to her that she left behind. So I better get over myself and concentrate on them if I ever have any hopes of filling those proverbial grandmothers' shoes.

alone

It's times like these that I feel most alone. Which is silly really because I do realize how not alone I actually am. I have an amazing family. Great friends. I'm even slowly getting the whole God is always with you thing worked out in my head. Logically, intellectually I know that I'm not even close to being alone. So why do I feel so alone tonight? I'm sitting here in my borrowed bedroom while my mom cries herself to sleep in hers, while my friends sleep in their beds and God watches over from above. No one is here to hold my hand. There's no shoulder to cry on. No one to wipe away my tears. I can't reach over four hundred miles to hug my mom. I won't pick up the phone and wake my friends up at 1230 in the morning just to hear my sniffling. And God... all knowing and all powerful God... who's always there but not there... you can't reach out and touch him... can't pick up the phone and call him. Physically alone but not actually alone. Either way I'm not liking it tonight. Tonight I feel like a piece of me is missing. I can't exactly put my finger on what that piece is but it's definately left a hole in me... which could be why I am feeling so alone... when really, in reality, I'm not actually alone in this world at all.

living up to my name

The funny thing about life is that it couldn't exist without death. If there wasn't an opposite to living, life as we know it would cease to be. Death has to exist. Sometimes it's ugly and cruel and sometimes it's a blessing. Last October my grandmother passed away. This October my grandmother passed away. Same month, same event, different person. My mom called me tonight at 924 and the moment I heard her voice I knew something was wrong. By 925 life as I knew it was changed. Only a minutes difference but a world of change. I lost my last living grandmother, my mom lost her mom and best friend, my grandfather lost a wife and his caretaker... the world lost a wonderfully giving woman. The thing about my grandma was that she never gave up on people... she never once failed to forgive and give you your second, third or one hundreth chance. (hmmm, sounds familiar!) And she'd go above and beyond and out of her way to help the ones she loved. Christian, southern to the core, hardworking, kind, tough, and with a heart of gold. I carry her name with me too. I sorta like that my parents gave me the privilage of being able to carry a bit of both of my grandmothers around with me. Elizabeth May and the May was hers... and as I result I carry the name proudly. I might never live up to the names I was given but I kinda feel the responsibilty to try atleast for my late grandmothers' sake. (That was a plural grandmothers by the way.) I've experienced a lot of changes in my life lately... but that's what life is all about... inspite of all of it's changes and difficulties I feel blessed to even still have this fragile existance known as life. My grandmother doesn't. Her time here is thru. I for one think that she served her time well. She lived a life worth something. She always seemed to be trying to make life better for everyone else around her. A life lived for others... it's such a selfless concept... but she was a selfless woman. So in a way bits and pieces of her will live on...she'll live on in the lives of the people that she helped... as a result it's now our job to live a life that would make her proud. (Different post but same theme.) I can only hope that I'm up to the challenge of living a life such as that. A life of substance. A life that means something. My grandmothers have certainly left me with big shoes to fill... here's to hoping I can live up to their names.

What I've learned Wednesdays...

1) I could never be Catholic.

2) It usually takes me three of four times before I finally learn my lesson. And quite frankly, there are just some lessons that I'm probably never going to learn.

3) I forgive way to easily.

4) Pneumonia is contagious. At least bacterial pneumonia is.

5) Some people when they ask you a question don't really want to hear your answer. They just want you to give the typical response and tell them what they want to hear. When faced with this type of person and/or question respond with the unexpected... give them your honest-to-goodness truthful answer. Their reaction is guaranteed to be priceless.

6) I actually like marshmallows. For 26 years I never thought that I did.

You actually read this thing!

It's sorta scary to know that people actually read this silly thing. It always suprises me when people tell me "Oh yeah I read that on your blog." I stop and for a second I think, "oh shit," but that feeling soon passes and I'm okay with them seeing a glimpse of me at my happiest, saddest, craziest, or darkest moment. It's okay if people see all the different aspects of the "real" me. I'm not in to painting this marvalous, wonderful, beautiful picture of my life. Instead I'd like you to see my world as it really is. Despite all of it's flaws atleast I can fully claim it as mine. It's real. It's true. And in some way everyone can relate to that. Life isn't perfect. My words aren't always perfect. My grammer and spelling is certainly almost never perfect. Therefore my story isn't perfect. Which is good... Perfection is highly overrated anyway!

Baptisms and revelations

Sunday I attended my first ever Catholic mass. (to capatalize or not to capatalize Mass?? that is the question... okay let's capitalize it) Sunday I attended my first ever Catholic Mass. (okay that looks better!) Anyway. I realized that I could never be Catholic. To strict and rigid for me. To much tradition just for the sake of tradition. Not really my style but regardless of that fact this particular mass, October 11th, 2009 at oh let's say 1145 in the morning/early afternoon I learned something (or perhaps just finally remembered) something quite profound. I could probably go on for pages and pages elaborating and explaining the importance and grand meaning of this early morning revelation but for now will just let the idea and the greater question stand on it's on.

The question that we all too often ask ourselves is "What can God do for me?" when really the question that we should be asking is "What can I do for God?"

Six months!!!

Six months and counting!!! Can't believe that I've officially made it half a year on my own. What's more I can't believe that actually excites me. That I actually feel like this divorce has been a good thing. It's so strange to think back to the person that I was six months ago and realize that in many ways that person no longer exist. I'm no longer a wife. No longer someone's other half. For the first time in a long time I'm my own seperate person. And if by some weird twist of fate I could go back six months and have it all back I wouldn't take it. I don't want that life anymore. In fact, I'm actually sort of partial to the new one.

Suprises

Life is full of suprises. Some good, some bad and some that could pretty much go either way depending on how you choose to look at things. Last friday Brian suprised me. I won't go into detail because it's his story to tell and not mine... but he is really trying to turn his life around and (in his words not mine) find his way back to God. Of course I cried when I got off the phone with him. I'm just so proud of my (well used to be my) little man. I want him to be happy. I want him to succeed. I want him to have everything he has ever dreamed of. I want him to do great things. He deserves all of that and so much more. There's always going to be a special place in my heart for that kid. I'm always going to care about him. Always going to do what little I can to help him. I'm beginning to think that nothing in life ever happens by mistake... that maybe our God, the very God who Brian want to get closer to, has our whole life mapped out detail by detail. And everything has it's purpose. Just a week ago I never thought that I could learn something from Brian. But I did. I learned that I don't give God nearly enough thought. Oh sure I'll tell you I'm a Christian if you ask my religious preference and I might pray from time to time but actually putting some effort into learning who God is and what that means to me... nope, nada, none of that. And I'm thinking that maybe I should start. Now I'm not planning on going all hardcore, bible thumper, stand on the street corner and preach at you kind of Christian... but I should atleast give God a little consideration in my day to day life. And that my friends would be the lesson learned from Brian Lee Matthews the self-proclaimed athiest, king of all assholes... or atleast that is how he used to describe himself... I think he's using a little different discription these days and that surely is a gift from God that makes me incredible happy!