I've Lived a Good Life...

Saturday morning I received a text from my aunt. She was out running and found a penny on the ground, then she got in the truck and saw my mom's sunshine in a bottle. I told her that my parents must be working together to tell her something. She said she would keep her eyes open all day. I definitely believe that she has a connection with the other side, stronger than most. She also had an amazingly special relationship with both my parents. I laugh about it now, but I think she got me, with each passing. My mom made her promise to watch over me when she was gone. I'm happy to report, she's done a wonderful job. The love she has given me now, and my whole life has made me feel always nurtured and never alone. This weekend I forced myself to go to church. It had been a while and I needed to feel a connection with my folks. The priest said a phrase that I had never heard before. He said "It is not the quantity of faith that we have that is important, it is the quality o

The inevitable time is approaching where my families pain and loss hits its peak. We are about to exit the eye of the storm. Tomorrow is my mothers birthday and a week and a half later is the day she passed onto heaven. I have the sweetest memories of my dad buying my mom a dozen yellow roses on her birthday. Some years money was so tight that those dozen roses turned into 2 dozen daisies. It's probably no coincidence that my mothers second favorite flower was the daisy. My parents gave me such a rich foundation and understanding that money does not buy happiness. They showed each other love through laughter and friendship. I feel very blessed to have been brought up in their home, where love and fun never had a monetary value. I think it's safe to say that I've made peace with my dad's passing. He fought long and hard and left nothing on the table. That man was ready to see his mom and dad, brother and sister. I wish I could say I was that far along with my mom'

On the last day of our vacation to the Oregon Coast I took the dogs on a long walk on the beach by myself. My dad and I used to take that same walk every morning and talk about life. He seemed to use that time to help gently guide me in the right direction in my career. I never had a pushy father that would tell me what to do with my life. He would instead ask me simple life questions that would force me to ponder my course. It always seemed to redirect my ship and put me back on track. While walking in silence this morning, I spent time talking to him, like I would have any other year. Something that people don’t tell you about the loss of your parents, is that, depending on where you are in life, the silence on the other end of the conversation can sometimes be crippling. You have no way of knowing if you’re on the right path, if they are proud of you. Other significant people in your life can tell you they are proud of you, but the feeling is never the same. Once you accept

When mom was at hospice, we had some hard truthful talks. I told her that I have a special place by the river that I go to talk to dad. It’s a specific log that I sit on, where I can see the rolling river by my house. I asked her where she would like our special spot to be once she passes. She wanted to take some time to think about it and pick the perfect spot. A few days later, out of nowhere, she says, “I’ve picked a spot, the bench by the church”. I of course thought of mom’s home church across the street from their house, and thought, that do-able. Then she elaborated, “you know the stone bench by St Mary’s by the Sea?” I looked at her and smiled, then said “absolutely”. She picked a bench outside of the church at Rockaway Beach, OR, 8 hours away from our hometown. Inside I was laughing so hard. This week my family has returned to Rockaway for our annual trip and my parents have been so present all week. It may be all the residual memories here, or my parents may have decide

Maybe if I say this phrase over and over again, I may actually be able to let some of this seasonal pain go. The fall was my parents favorite time of year. Their walks around the neighborhood with their trusty basset hound got longer and the season provoked the writers spirit in my father. We are in the eye of the storm of memories right now. My mom's cancer discovery happened at the end of August two years ago, and her sun setting from earth occurred on October 21st. I still have trouble during this window. It's hard not letting the feelings of the season remind you of the swift sorrow you experienced. Last year my saving grace was a pottery class my cousin recommended. She jokingly told me it was cheaper than therapy, and it was. I made some crappy pieces of pottery and poured every ounce of emotion into those miss-shaped mugs and bowls. Ironically, I think pottery has helped me center my thoughts, quiet my mind, and soften my sadness. It's funny how different people

I love the phrase "A picture is worth a thousand words". Above you will see two of my favorite pictures of all times.  Thanks to Amazon Prime Photos these memories un-expectantly dropped in my lap over the last couple of days.   My dad was about 11 months into his treatment plan here. That exact moment wasn't capturing a picture of a man with cancer, it was encapsulating the pure joy of a grandpa holding his grand baby. He didn't even know I took the photo...but my daughter obviously did. 😉 My mom's picture shows the crazy close bond that she had with my daughter. They were two peas in a pod and were always caught giving each other a tight squeeze. Just a few days ago, my son (who was 2 when mom passed away) told me that he had a happy dream about Grammy in her yellow rain coat. I thought to myself this morning when I looked at this picture, "Huh, there's that bright and sunny rain coat".  I do believe that life gives you

I was doing so good. I thought I had made it through all the stages of grief and was on to the fun part of remembering the good times and forgetting the bad.  Well, I may have hit a bump in the road due to a combination of circumstances. A friend contacted me with bad news about a family member being diagnosed with stage 3 colon cancer, my husband was gone for the weekend, and I was left with my thoughts. That friend asked me a simple question. "After watching your parents go through treatment, do you think it was worth it?" That little question rolled me right back to every painful moment. Pardon the analogy, because I don't mean to be offensive. When you are around people going through cancer treatment you can almost see the cancer on them. It's like looking into a dogs eyes, that is ready to pass on. There spirit is on hold, as the fear of death washes over them. They are not themselves anymore...they are cancer. I answered my friend that day after a ver

In my youth I was convinced that I was my father, through and through. I was driven and liked to used humor to lighten serious moments in time. My parents had a very sweet relationship that I used to observe constantly. As I aged, I gained a greater appreciation for what they actually had and how unique it was. My father would do things to purposely frustrate my mom, and she was sure an easy target. He knew every little thing that would get her blood boiling, and pushed it right up to the point where she would firmly say his first AND middle name. Then they would bust out in laughter. It was a dance I never grew tired of watching. As an adult I took on a similar banter with my mom that was fun and playful.When I was pregnant with my daughter, the summer was hot and I was getting big. My mom tried to take me shopping for cute maternity clothes, but we always left empty handed, cause all the clothes made me look fat. 😉 But, one day I walked down the block to a neighbor who was sellin

I wouldn't be what people call an observant creature. When I was a child and we would go on family road trips, I was always the last one to notice the deer, moose, elk, or bear in the woods. If a friend got a new hair cut, I would be the last one to notice. My husband could completely tear out a flower bed in the front of our house, and I'm oblivious to it.  The irony is that my job requires me to have a crazy amount of attention to detail. But it is a little known fact by people close to me, that once I shut my computer down at work, my brain flies right out the window. What I'm saying, is that for the most part, I have to be hit by a Mack truck to usually notice something out of place or peculiar. About a week ago I had a very interesting day. It started out with a visit to the kids pediatrician where they had their well child visit. On our way out, a cute little old man came up to my son and said, "young man, do you have something in your ear?" Then he pulled

It is no secret that our children's birthdays are connected to sorrowful moments in our life. Piper's birthday weekend almost two years ago now, was the time we found out that mom was sick with colon cancer. I battle sadness during this time and fight it with all I've got, because our daughter deserves to have a birthday filled with happiness. This year we decided to ask her what she would like to do, and she said, go on a trip. I very thoughtfully came up with the idea to go to Yellowstone National Park. My mother was a summer tour guide there and she loved it. We visited Yellowstone often when we were children, and I have some of my fondest memories of her from those times. So, in the essence of everything my mother was and everything I know she would do, I will be the best damn tour guide my family has ever seen. I have started preparing our household by leaving informational packets all through the house with pictures of wildlife and hot springs. I am going to turn

Today marks the fifth anniversary of my dad's passing on to heaven. The daily sadness definitely has dissipated, but the anniversary day always stings the same. Unfortunately I can remember it like it was yesterday. The strength of my aunt who had diligently stayed by his bedside for 21 straight days, the peace of my mother as she kissed her sweet soul mate into heaven, and the saving grace of my cousin who walked mom and I through those first few hours with out him. They all played such a significant role in my journey through that time. They are also, ironically three of the strongest woman I know. My husband and I are also blessed with never forgetting this date. A year after my dad's passing we were given this day as our sons due date. I cut a deal with my doctor...and god, that I did not want a lion king moment. No "Circle of Life" crap. I wanted our child to have his own day, and I was going to will that to happen no matter what. Thankfully everyone followed th

See this purple flower we have proudly growing by our pond? This is a plant that my dad had growing all around their house. It is a hearty plant that he loved, absolutely loved. I on the other hand did not like this plant. I used to make fun of it, and ask dad why he felt the need to grow a weed wrapped around his house. It was one of our fun running arguments. Ironically, it was also the very last thing we thoughtfully took from their home, and transplanted it by our pond. Yesterday was Father's Day, and before I kicked off festivities with my kids to celebrate their dad, I took a quiet moment out on the deck with my dad early in the morning. Now the beauty of this weed, oh, I mean flower, is that it only blossoms in the morning. In the later part of the day the flowers close up and go to sleep. My dad was a lifetime morning person, so I guess it's appropriate that the flower we have in our yard that represents him, shines brightest in the morning.  I think putting a tr

I had an epiphany today that made me smile and I thought I would share it. Have you ever had a routine or a repetitive activity that you never really asked yourself why you do a certain thing? I have a pretty regular cadence of walking down the street, in the middle of the day, to pick up a bag of popcorn at a local sandwich shop. I used to frequent that sandwich place with coworkers several years ago, and their unique offering is that they bring a bowl of freshly popped popcorn to your table to share as you eat your sandwiches. But over the last year and a half I've only stopped by there to pick up a bag of freshly popped popcorn. Today, as I was waiting in line there, I looked into the restaurant and notice an empty booth that sparked a memory in my head. My mom would ride the bus downtown a couple of times a week to transfer to a bus that would take her to work. In mid-transfer she would call me and ask if I wanted to join her for lunch. It was always a time of day, where I ha

I am always someone looking for signs all around me. If I am at a cross roads over something and find a shiny penny on the ground, I assume that is my dad trying to guide me in one direction or another. Lately I have been a listener in many conversations that have had the same theme. The symbol for that theme has to be a dusty box in the back of the closet, that you haven't opened up for many years. Once the lid cracks open, all emotions and hurt come flooding back like the the memories just happened yesterday. I think all these conversations have been a sign to write about this topic. Everyone handles loss differently. Some people prefer to feel the pain instantly, like throwing your bike into a ditch and getting a fresh wound. It stings and is messy. The pain is so bad it knocks the wind out of you and puts you into shock. Other people methodically box their loss up, put it in the basement/garage and deal with it when they're ready to feel the pain on their own terms. What

This week I received a gift that I have needed for quite some time. My little brother has come home to visit with his wife and daughter. After being on the road experiencing life, they have come home to settle things with their house, and potentially set it up to rent out, or sell. I didn't care what the reason was for their visit. I was just elated that they were here. It had been a year and a half since I had seen them all and I needed to just hug them. The interesting thing was, I thought my overwhelming need was going to be seeing my brother and hugging him for ever, but it wasn't. Turns out, the thing I needed most, to feed my soul, was to spend some quality time with my sister in law. As we all sat and chatted about life and where they had been, I realized my cup was filling up and I finally figured out why. When Mom was rapidly going through her cancer journey I was never alone with the treatments, my sister in law was by my side the entire time and we dealt with every

This morning I had an early flight to Portland. Flying this time of year is much easier, because the sun is up and it tricks you into thinking you should be awake too. Fully charged with a cup of coffee I stared out the window and had some much needed think time. I caught myself taking a moment for reflection. It was a “How are we doing at this game of life” inventory. This weekend we were crazy productive in the yard and got much more done than either of us thought we could accomplish. I feel like that statement needs a disclaimer. We have a large, beautiful yard that we both love, and in the beginning of the season it takes a lot of work. I am a self-prescribed yard schizophrenic. I start one thing, then glance over at another area and immediately start working over there. I’m like a spastic bee buzzing all over the yard, starting, but not solving anything. My husband loves me, but he loathes this trait in me. This year, as I buzzed away to another area, he begged me to stick wit

I think one of the most important things you can do when you're watching someone pass into the next life is learn from them as they cross over. There was something that both of my parents stopped doing once they realized that their clock was running out. They both stopped watching TV. I thought it was very interesting, so I asked them in that moment, why? My dad's answer was that he wanted to spend as many of his final moments hearing stories from everyone he loved. Any minute that he had enough energy to stay awake he wanted to listen to people and take in as many heartfelt conversations as he could before God took him home. My mom was even more vocal about it. She didn't want the TV on in her room or to hear it at all. My mom loved reality TV. She used to watch Survivor with my dad, and watch Big Brother while sitting on the phone with me. The last TV show she watched was with me in the hospital. We watched an episode of Blue Bloods. The next day we got bad news and fou

As I sit in the pew in the back of the church in quiet reflection I ask myself, why do I come HERE? Other than the obvious answer of, it is my time with God, which I have always believed you can get time with God anywhere in nature, what is my real reason for coming to THAT church? Yes it was the church I grew up in and the church my father grew up in, which is special, but not the reason. There are more people there that I don't know, than I do know. I think after spending many hours pondering the question I have an answer and it's kind of sad. I go to THAT church to feel pain, to feel something. Every ones path through grieving is different. Some people feel sadness unexpectantly and uncontrollably for years, and that is totally normal. Some people fall hard after the passing of a loved one, get all their stuff out, and bounce back fast. No journey is the right way, it just has to be the right way for you. My advice is to take your time through it, and don't skip steps t

My husband and his twin brother were turning 40 and I wanted them to spend this monumental moment together. Being that they live all the way across the country from each other, I thought this would be a great opportunity to meet somewhere fun, and get as many of the family members together for the occasion. We just returned from a 10 day vacation to Florida where we stayed with an Aunt & Uncle and had an amazing time. It was a wonderful trip. There were four generations of family in one place and we had the opportunity to experience several new things.  The kids ate alligator, frog legs, mahi mahi, crab, conch, and grouper. They held an alligator, touched a turtle, went frog hunting, road a motor cycle, and shot a BB gun for the first time. My husband even had a chance to swim with sharks. I'll tell ya, if this trip would've been a year earlier I would have spent most of the time quietly being sad that I can no longer take trips like this with my family. But instead I am i

This weekend I went to a concert by the Fab Four, a Beatles tribute band. One of my parents best friends turned 65 and his children all wanted to take him to this concert. He is a huge fan of the Beatles just like my Mom. When one of his children couldn't make it to the concert he graciously asked me. I was honored to go. Experiences like this one, really help me feel closer to my folks. Well, the group did not disappoint. The band opened up the concert with "I Wanna Hold Your Hand". It seemed so appropriate because I was overwhelmed with emotions walking into the theater. My Mom would've loved to go to that concert. This may sound odd, but in three or four experiences I have felt my parents presence and felt their hand in mine. When it happens it does make me tear up because I don't want it to ever end. I also only tell my husband about it, because I don't want people to think I'm strange. That night, I felt her hand in mine. It was awesome! As the co

I don't know about anyone else, but every single time I fly I get a chance to reset with God. It's not because I am stuck in a seat with nothing to do but think. Let's be honest, I typically use that time to sleep. That's something I always seem to have a lack of. 😴 It's the moment the plane starts to descend. I'm not fancy and I don't fly first class, but I do like a window seat for this specific moment. For quite a long period of time, I was guilty of thinking that I had personally done something cosmically wrong to the universe and God was just punishing me with hit after hit of loss. In my defense though, we had a huge family that had experienced almost no tragedies. After we got married, we lost grandma, my younger aunt, our first baby, my dad, and then my mom. It's pretty natural for people to pull in during hard times, hide from people that love them, and play the "Woe is Me" game. I did that. But then I would hop on a plane for work

I don't think I recollect a time when my mom wasn't surrounded by flowers. She loved them. There was a stint in the 80's where she wouldn't leave the house without a flower in her hair. Daisies were her favorite, and yellow roses. We were stuck in the hospital for her last birthday and people seemed perplexed about what to get her. It was becoming apparent that we may never leave the hospital, so buying her knickknacks didn't make much since. Her friends and family opted for the one item that reminded them of her, flowers. Now it is a little known fact that after a chemo treatment your white blood cell count almost zero's out to nothing and that is called Neutropenia. In common terms, your body has no way of fighting anything that you are exposed to, so hospitals don't allow flowers in the room when you are neutropenic. I am not exaggerating when I say she had at least 25  bouquets of flowers delivered to her in the hospital. The entire nurses station o

Every time I see a picture of my mom, I have a wave of happy thoughts brush over me. She really was one of a kind. People that didn't know her well, would probably have put her in a box and said she was sweet, naive, and sheltered. What most people don't know about her is that she actually had a very hard childhood. Her father came back from the war with a plate in his head and some major anger issues to work out. As the oldest child she protected her younger siblings and took the brunt of any turmoil. But what made her different than most people, is that when she left her parents home, she vowed to herself to never live in a household like that again. She was going to find a sweet, kind man, and not have a home where yelling and screaming was present. She was going to break the cycle of dysfunction and change her story. That is exactly what she did. I don't know if it's just this time in our lives, but it sure feels like a lot of people are repeating history, followin

Over the past year or so my husband and I have seen a trend of people reaching out when they are going through a scary time with a parent, or someone's experiencing a very fresh loss. I think you try and find meaning in your own tragedy, and we think that helping others through loss may be ours. We went through it much sooner than most, and we seem to be able to calm people when they are in the midst of the storm. I read this quote at the top of the post and instantly thought of a dear friend that just reached out to me this weekend. Her and her husband had been taking care of their Nana full time and she sadly had just passed away. Her lungs just finally gave out on her. I'll tell you time does not heal, but it allows you to tuck away the rawest of experiences, to enable you to function again. The only problem with those moments being put into storage, is that when someone recants their experience, those memories all come jumping out of that bin like they just happened. I do

Almost everyone in my family believes that our passed on relatives keep in contact with us through surprising little ways. We all think they communicate by dropping shiny pennies along our path, just to let us know they're watching. The summer after my dad passed, the family didn't know if they wanted to go to the Oregon coast for our annual family reunion because perhaps it would be too sad. I pushed for us to still go, but vowed to make the experience fresh and new, so past memories wouldn't bring perpetual sadness. We rented a big house instead of condos. The biggest change in excursions was, my husband and I booked a ghost adventure tour in underground Portland. It was different and fun, and something my dad would never have done, but mom loved it. My favorite part of the whole tour was walking through a more colorful section of town. We walked by a string of strip clubs male and female, where we saw some of the dancers standing outside in minimal clothes, taking a br

There are daily routines that break when your heart heads to heaven. You don't really notice them at first because you're absolutely dead inside, just trying to get through that, to do list of closure items. It's when the days turn into weeks, and the weeks turn into months that life starts to come back into your soul. It's a great feeling. Driving by children playing in the park makes your mouth crook up in the corners, because you let a little light shine through. In your own personal rebirth as the person left behind, when the joy starts to creep back in, that is the moment your routines break and your heart cracks once again. This did not happen for me with my dad's passing for 6-10 months. I remember the exact moment my most sacred routine broke. Something very exciting happened at work and I was really proud of what I had accomplished. Without thinking, on the way home, I picked up the phone an dialed 6 out of 7 numbers to my dad's phone before I realize

People are not wrong when they say the roughest memories eventually fade away. With every passing day I think less and less about the detailed pain, and switch much more into a memory bank of funny stories about my parents. I have such a strong recollection of my parents enjoying each other and feeling so comfortable being goofy around us kids. Here are a few of my favorite memories of my parents being playful with each other: 1. My mom never wanted us to touch her pretty hand painted figurine because she told us it was a priceless antique. My dad loved to poke at her and get her going. He turned that pretty figurine over one day and saw that carved in the bottom with a toothpick, looked like, was the name Irene T. He never let her forget that it wasn't an antique. In fact, he would toss it up in the air around her just to get her blood boiling. 2. Dad loved his yard and loved working in it. He always believed it was a group effort and we should all help out. My mom didn't c

Our Amazon prime photos account reminds us of pictures we took on the same day in years past. In most cases it's such a sweet reminder of how our kids have grown and reminds us of fun vacations we've gone on. This week we've been hit  with pictures from two years ago where we went to Disneyland with the grandparents from both sides of the family. Mom walked easily 14 miles a day that week. She had so much fun and loved having those moments with our kiddos. She went on all the rides and got to see our daughter meet her princess idol, Anna from Frozen. I'm baffled that was only two short years ago. One of my favorite Disney songs is from Dumbo, "Baby Mine". I sing it to my kids almost every night. When I think of that song I think of my mom. Her hugs were epic, and made all worry melt away. On the very worst day of my mom's journey she was having trouble managing her pain. It is fair to say that I felt like a complete failure. I couldn't help the swee

Mornings have always been one of my favorite times of day. It probably stems from when I was a bakery manager many moons ago. My drive into work was along side a river on a wavy road at 3:30 in the morning. The world was still asleep and there was true peace and time for thought. At that time in my life I would take those moments to marvel at God's great work, and thank him for my blessings. I found that if you start your day out with quiet reflection and gratitude, that it gave the day the best chance it had at succeeding. I was in my 20's back then and there was absolutely nothing wrong with the world. I'm pretty convinced that was the sweet spot, and I'll probably tell my kids that some day. In your 20's you have complete freedom, no responsibility, and for the most part everyone in your family is at an age where they are not at risk of any medical emergencies. If you're lucky, your folks are reasonably healthy or haven't seen the repercussions of their

So for the first 7 months of my dads cancer treatment I was pregnant, and I think its safe to say I wasn't one of those fortunate ladies where pregnancy suited me. It was more like a constant state of nausea sprinkled with regular abdominal discomfort. Now the humorist in myself and my father were able to find several funny similarities between being pregnant and going through cancer treatment. Stick with me here. 1. We both had to go to the doctor all the time and got yelled at for not eating enough. 2. We both lost weight in the beginning because we were so nauseous all the time. 3. We equally felt like we had an alien  inside of us, that at some point we both wanted it out of us desperately. 4. At one point we weighed the same amount, which was a low moment for both of us. 5. Our spouses both tried to get us to drink ginger ale.  Disgusting! 6. We both mowed the lawn as a statement, to prove to everyone around us, that we weren't handicapped, we were just fine. 7. Wh

When you're raising children I think it's pretty natural to wonder what legacy you are going to leave, what memories or lessons will they hold dear. My parents never had alot of money, but they always worked hard and provided for their family. One of the things they made a priority was traveling with us kids. We went on one to two family vacations every year. My dad would save up his change all year and cash it in right before the trip, which paid for the gas for our entire adventure. We didn't have fancy things in our house, because their priority was giving us experiences, and we had some amazing ones. Now that our parents have past I think about the imprint their actions have had on my brothers and myself. My oldest brother is succeeding in his career and chooses to travel every day in his job. He seems to love the adventure of seeing new things and visiting places he's never seen. My husband and I do something somewhat unpopular with our generation. We love to vac

My dad used to say that phrase all the time, and I have lived by it my whole life. I always showed up for tests early in college, and I make sure that I'm there for people when I promise I will be. As I was driving home the other day, that phrase got me thinking. I tormented myself over the last couple of years trying to figure out why God took my folks early. I guess its the natural grieving process to question the why and focus your anger on that, but my heart is finally at peace with alot of it. Being angry doesn't bring them back, it doesn't help your heart heal, it just paralyzes you in a state of bitter sadness. I take the shuttle in the morning into work. It's a quick 10 minute ride, and for a long time it was my most un-favorite part of the day. I would sit in silence and listen to people much older than me complain about taking care of their aging parents. They would talk about what a burden they were, and how annoyed they would get because their parents woul

Have you ever felt like life has just decided to hit you with a shit stick? Well, a month after my mom had passed away we were prepping for an estate sale at my parents home. Scratch that, my husband and everyone that loved us was helping prep for an estate sale at my parents house. The fact is, I wasn't strong enough to go through their house after my brothers and I did our final sweep. My husband coordinated the help of our friends and family. It was the first day of the estate sale and I was at home with the kids. Our cat Prince was looking awful, and hadn't been eating for a few days, but our minds were overly focused on other things. I sat down with our sweet soft kitty, and I saw something in his eyes, he was dying, I knew it. My husband and I discussed the night before, that if things didn't improve that I would take him into the vet the following morning. I packed the kids into the car and wrapped our sweet cat up in a warm blanket and held him in my lap on the

When my dad got close to the end, the back bedroom to our family home was a revolving door of people coming to say goodbye. Some of them had spiritual moments with him, some had humorous moments, and for some he saw them as if they were back in their child state. It was intriguing to watch. The miracle of it all was that he transformed into what ever the person seemed to need from him in that exact time in space. The most tender observation was the interaction between my father and his sister. They were born less than a year apart and were forced by circumstance to always be close. Depending on the moment in time, they would laugh together or fight like cats and dogs, but they always loved one another. When it was time to stop treatment, my dad was clear that he wanted to pass at home where he felt the most comfort. His sister who was a nurse did not even let us think about it, she was going to stay with him until the end. My father went for 21 days without food until he passed and sh