I've Lived a Good Life...

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