I've Lived a Good Life...

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