Today's Journal Prompt

I am a member of an online group called Blissfully Art Journaling. It's a great group of people, and we talk about all kinds of things from A-Z.

Today's prompt was to write about your most vivid childhood memory. I wanted to share my response with you here.

I'm going to write the first thing that came to my mind. It's sort of bittersweet, but it will be good to write it down!

 

At the end of the school year, when I was in 5th grade, my little sister died of leukemia. She was five years old. It had been a long struggle for my family - the hardest part (I realize now) being that the kids were "protected" from it all by never knowing what was going on for certain.

 

Anyway, the day of her funeral people were invited back to our house for lunch. Many people had provided food, so there was a lot of it. Our house was full of people whispering, ignoring me but taking care of their own needs, and I could not stand it. I blindly fixed myself a plate and went out to our back yard to sit at the picnic table. As I began to eat, I realized there were PEAS in the tuna casserole, and was immediately grossed out. I did not like peas in much of anything, let alone tuna casserole! So I sat there, by myself, picking the peas out of my food. After quite awhile, it occurred to me that I was still alone. This made me very sad, and I wondered if anyone was going to come outside and hug me. Nobody did. Eventually, I went back inside and stood - invisibly - in the kitchen corner.

 

It was one of the loneliest times of my life. And it took me years to realize that I just need to be unafraid to telling people what I need. I still struggle with this, even now in my fifties. But when I'm honest with myself and others about what I need, things are so much easier. Many years later I was able to work through my grief over my sister's death. Doing so saved my life, as about six months later our own daughter died very suddenly at the age of seven. If I'd still been hiding my grief over my sister, I'm not sure I'd be here today to tell you this story.

 

Be true to yourself! Don't be afraid of what others might think of you. Saying things out loud - even to a mirror - is better that letting them eat your tuna casserole!

 

Mary

What a difference a day makes!

Monday, April 19, 2010
Day 1 of Spring Break, 2010

Compared to yesterday, today was a piece of cake.

Compared to yesterday, today was fairly acceptable.

 We (Jonathan and I) slept in. I got up about 7:30, but let him sleep until almost 10 a.m. Last night was late, what with all the ranting and raving going on.

When I woke up, the first thing I thought about was last night. I felt very tired. I'm just bouncing back from a virus, and felt like maybe I needed to go back to bed...for about a week. But I got up. I made coffee. I sat on the front porch. I drank coffee. I felt good. Thank God.

After Jonathan took care of Skip (the dog), I told him to shower and dress and get ready to go. We had things to do; places to go. 30 minutes later, I went up and told him "that's long enough!" and he turned off the shower. 30 minutes after that, I asked "Jonathan, what are you doing?" His reply was, "I'm getting ready to go!"

My pockets were so heavy. All I could say was, "Please hurry."

It was around Noon when we finally set out. He wanted me to take him bowling. "Jonathan, we have to get gas, go to the bank, and go to Target. I'm not sure if bowling is going to fit into out plans today." As far as his 14-year-old mind knew, everything was right in the world.

We went to the bank. He got a free pen. We filled up with gas. He had a nice conversation with Ed, the owner. "Mom, why does he always dress up?" he asked. "Because he's the boss!" I replied. Off to Target.

Call me a bad mom, if you must. The reason we went to Target was to buy me new underwear and bras. I did not allow Jonathan to leave my side. My phone rang; it was my sister. I handed her over to Jonathan, who was more than ELATED to take her call...anything to get away from looking at bras with his mother! Poor baby.

We descended upon the Women's department. "Mom, can I go down to Sporting Goods and meet you there?" Hmmm..."Okay, but don't leave that area. I'll be there in a few minutes." When I got there, he was nowhere to be found. I went around the store twice. I almost panicked, until I saw him. "Why didn't you stay where I told you to?" "Because I went looking for you, because you never showed up!" he replied. "Hey mom! Do you want to see if there are any good books?" I love my son, I really, really do.

We left Target, nearly $100 poorer, but happy with what we had...who isn't happy about new underwear and bras?! Jonathan hadn't had the time of his life, but he was okay. We did not go bowling. We came home. He took care of the dog "because it's part of how you love your pet" I reminded him. "Whatever" was his reply.

Jonathan chose turkey GLOPP for dinner. He was so happy, and excited that there's enough left for his breakfast in the morning. Right now, he's upstairs watching the movie, "Little Shop of Horrors." Tomorrow, he's spending Day 2 of Spring Break 2010 with me - at work - because I still don't trust him. It makes me sad, but it's for his own good...and my peace of mind. It's not my first choice, but it's the best choice.

God bless every parent out there who struggles with "entertaining" their children during a week-long break. Some kids have it better than others. Jonathan has it pretty good, in my eyes. Some day he'll get it.

Friday we will meet Warren in Connecticut and drive to New York City for the weekend. We get to go to the Statue of Liberty, Ground Zero, MOMA, and we have a really nice hotel to stay in! It's going to be great. Jonathan is not very excited.

Well, he's only 14.

God bless us all.

Pockets full of...

...not trusting you.

I dislike that introduction very a lot. It is all about my incredibly loving, warm, sincere son whom I love with all my heart and soul and being. It hurts me to write this!

But I have been deceived. Lied to. My heart has been ripped open, and a piece of me died today. All because my teenage son decided it was more important to lie to me than to tell someone else, "No!"

I've cried. I've yelled. For a few hours, I wouldn't let him be in a room without me in it. I did not trust him.

In one of my pockets is his cell phone. Off limits, due to trust issues. In my other pocket is his iTouch. Off limits, due to trust issues. Internet? I don't think so! Not for a good long while. But I refuse to carry a computer in my pocket.

I know teenagers are mixed up and growing and changing and learning and figuring all at the same time. Some days, I'm surprised he wants to get up and do it all over again. Part of me thinks I would just beg illness. But he does get up. He goes to school because he enjoys it. Not so much for the academics (drat!), but because he needs to be with his peers. He loves his teachers, too. What parent doesn't want that for their child?

Right now, though, I'd rent him out for $2 an hour. Any takers? He's great at conversation, and will knock your socks off if you talk politics with him (best if you're a Democrat, I might add). He'll say the blessing over your meal and never even wince at being asked. And he's pretty good with etiquette, if you make sure the salad bowl is in the right spot.

There's no way I'd wish to be 14 again. I've been there; I've done that; I do not want to ever go through that agony again. So I try to be patient. But now I'm the parent. I try to remember if I ever pulled anything like this? Maybe? Most of me says, "No way!" but then, what the heck do teenagers remember? Why would I keep that memory?


I could ask my Dad, but part of me thinks that one of the roles of being a parent is to "conveniently forget" things your children did as teenagers. Once they become responsible, self-sustaining adults, who wants to talk about the arguments and denials and b.s?


My pockets are filled with "I don't trust you" things tonight. They'll remain full until it feels safe to give them back...which might be awhile! But, as I told my wonderful, loving son earlier this evening: "There is nothing in this world that could take away my love for you, be it anger, distrust, disappointment...whatever happens - whatever becomes of you - I will be your mother and I will love you!"


Hopefully...that sounds so selfish!...some day, he will repeat those words to his own teenager.

Shoulder Squeezes

Today is one of my least favorite holidays, which makes me sad, because for most of my life so far I really loved Valentine's day.

It was twelve years ago today that I took Katie shopping for a Barbie doll for her friend. She'd been invited to a birthday party - her first "invitation party" at the skating rink, and was so excited! She didn't skate, but did eat lots of ice cream! I wish I could remember her little friend's name, but I don't.

Two days later, Katie died. So, you see, Valentine's Day is often the "tip of the iceberg" so to speak. This year, it definitely was.

Jonathan greeted me this morning with a beautiful red rose and a box of Russell Stover's chocolates, from both he and Warren. Later, I went to church, feeling fine and relieved at the joy in my heart. When I sat down, my friend Regina handed me a valentine and a little heart-shaped box of chocolates. How very sweet! I was touched, but that gesture of love touched off emotions inside of me that I just wasn't expecting. Even after twelve years, I never know how I'll react or respond to today.

As I allowed the tears to come (I learned years ago not to deny these bursts of emotions), my eyes drifted up towards the stained glass window of the Good Shepherd. It's beautiful, and I look at it a lot. Jesus is standing there, cuddling a little lamb while other sheep are gathered around him. Today I tried to imagine Jesus cuddling Katie in his arms ("instead of that stupid lamb," I said to myself from the pew). Well, that didn't work! Then I thought, "Well, maybe today's the day and maybe Katie is here and is going to pay me a visit right here during church!" So, I kept looking around for some sort of a sign of her. Nothing. Tears, and plenty of them.

After communion, someone behind me gave me a great big shoulder squeeze. It was either Regina, or her daughter, or her son-in-law. It doesn't matter, it's just what I needed: a silent gesture from someone who cared and didn't feel responsible for why I was sad, but wanted me to know that they cared. None of them cornered me after church to ask, "What's the matter?" And they won't know, unless I tell them.


Some people, I'm sure, think we "should be over it" by now. We'll never get over Katie's death. We will get through it, however, one minute and one day and one week and one month and one year at a time.

We are so very blessed to have our Jonathan! What would we do without him in our lives? I know he misses his sister, too. The dates don't mean much to him, and I'm happy he can live with his wonderful and fun memories of his big sister.


I'm going to teach him, however, to honor the emotions of other people. I'm going to teach him that saying nothing is often the very best thing to say to someone who is feeling sad. And, I'm going to teach him that a nice shoulder squeeze can sometimes be the best prescription for pain. He's a good boy. I think he'll be a good learner. We're so very proud of him!


But I miss my Katie.

The Word

I'm sort of "famous" for my foul mouth, and realized recently that it's too late to save my son from my bad habit. The other day he suggested that his dad (a priest) could be "Father", he could be "Son", and I could be "Holy..." - well, have fun figuring out what the missing word is! There are several options.

Years ago I worked the Swing Shift at a public utility in Denver, Colorado. I'd been a Keypunch Operator for many years, and then transferred into the Computer Operations Department. A young co-worker named Sheila was my work partner. It was my job to "train' her...

Sheila was quite naive. She loved cars, and lived at home so she could afford to pay for her sporty, fast convertible. When she got excited, her mouth sort of foamed, and when she laughed, she always ended up spitting. These were all endearing qualities. We were friends, and we had lots of fun.

However, Sheila wasn't so anxious to be "trained" in my skill of foul language. I'd say a word that made her uncomfortable and she'd give me that head down, eyes looking up, "don't say that word" kind of look. You know the one I mean? One day, she was working and dropped something. I heard her say, "THE WORD!" Stopping in my tracks, I stared at her. "What did you say?" I asked. "THE WORD!" she replied, her mouth beginning to foam. I started to laugh. She started to laugh. There was spit everywhere. We couldn't stop.

From then on, when I was with Sheila, the term "THE WORD" became my foul language. We'd say it loud; we'd say it in our heads; we'd write it on a piece of paper. It worked.

So, I think I'm going to start utilizing "THE WORD" again. It's a bad habit to break, that of foul language. I'm way too free in using it, and it's gotten me in trouble a time or two.

Today is a beautiful day. The sun is bright, and it's supposed to get up to 40 degrees! Spring is just around the corner, or so they say. It will be a great day to take a walk and smile and be pleasant, using non-foul language. I'll take my son with me and tell him about Sheila and how much fun she was to be around. I wonder where she is today. I wonder if she still spits when she laughs! I wonder if she still drives a convertible.

I wonder if she still says, "THE WORD!"

The Word, indeed. Works for me!

Back to "Normal"

The wreaths, trees, greenery, creche, lights and candles are all down. Everything is back to normal...yea, right!

Earlier this year, I went to a women's conference. the speaker remarked about her time spent saying, "This is it!" over, and over, and over, and over...until she "got" it. I think that's my definition of "normal" - "THIS is IT!" This moment is normal. If I wasn't doing this, I'd be doing something else normal.

Very often, I catch myself asking, "Why is this my life?" or "Why do I miss them so much?" It's disturbing to me when I do ask these questions, because they never really get answered. Recently, however, someone answered the second question for me. "Because they're yours," was the reply. Bingo. The answer to the first question is probably the same: because it's yours. It's almost become a mantra for me. Because it's yours. Because you're normal!

It may not always feel comfortable, but normal is just life. All the joy and hurt and excitement and disappointment and laughter and crying...Normal.

The church feels bare, being back to normal. Lots of people won't even notice. This afternoon, we're taking down our own tree and decorations...getting the house back to normal. I'll miss the tree; I'll miss sitting and looking at the ornaments and remembering the occasions they represent. But they'll be back, like normal, in mid-December.

In the meantime, this is it!

First Saturday

Years ago, my family began a tradition of getting together every First Saturday of the month. It was awesome...it was a time when we all really began to enjoy each other as adults. And, as the nieces and nephews came along, it became 'the more the merrier.' My parents' house was where we met - everyone knew where it was, and how to get there. The little ones felt comfortable there. Mom would fix her special egg casserole, and the rest of us would bring "something." It was always a feast, always loud, and I'm pretty sure my mom grew to dreat the occasion, but she and dad loved nothing more than having their family together. It is still a tradition now, and my older brother Paul and his wife, Becky, tend to be the hosts since mom has died and my dad is in an apartment.

Before First Saturday began, we would all gather "impromptu" at my parents' house on Friday afternoons. That proved to be a difficult time for all of us to get together, so we switched it to Thursday. We called it "Friday Afternoon Thursday" - or FAT, for short. FAT was very popular, and sometimes very wild. Whoever could come would show up bearing some sort of appetizer. My dad would provide the rot-gut, if Julie didn't come bearing Stoly. We were a wild brood, but we had fun and we laughed and we cried and we laughed some more. And we all left happy - happy to have family we could enjoy one evening a week with. How many people can say that? I loved FAT. I don't remember when it stopped...maybe when there were grandkids and Saturdays seemed easier to get together without bedtimes and deadlines and having to get up the next morning for work. So, FAT became First Saturday.

Today, I realized, is the first Saturday of 2010. I wonder if my family in Denver got together? Something tells me, "NO!" They've been together at least three nights since Christmas Eve. Who want to see those people again so soon?! But I thought about them, and wished I could be there - even if they weren't.

It's a new year. I want it to be a better year. Better how? Good question. I'm not going to make resolutions; I'm going to make thoughtful reminders. I'm not going to make a "To Do" list. I'm just going to make a new list every day and limit it to five things that need doing. Things will get done. Some things will stay on the list for a week or two. Some things will change. Hopefully, some things will get easier - like missing my family on First Saturday.

Right now, I'm just going to hold them all in my heart and remind myself that "they are mine, and that's why I miss them so much"...even when events have me wondering, "WHY is it again that I miss them so much?" Oh, that's right, because they're mine.

Happy New Year to my family and friends. May 2010 be a year filled with happy times...and maybe a few happy surprises.