The Happy Moments of The Holidays 2010

Forgive me for just now posting some Christmas photos.  My daughter was asking that I share a few, so here are some of the memories from Christmas 2010 that I was able to capture.  As a side note, my husband just got a new camera, so he was in charge of photos this year.  Most of these are his, not mine.  Maybe by next year, I have a new camera that I will be practicing with.

Pre-Christmas Celebration at Our House

Jonathan and Samantha and Atticus were the only family visitors who actually made it to our house this year.  They came down from Colorado Springs where they were staying with Samantha's mother for a visit with Jim and me around the 21st of December.  I put Samantha to work making cookies while I made split pea soup.  Samantha loved making pizzelles, so guess what I went out and got her for Christmas?  A pizzelle maker found its way under the Christmas tree for her.

 My husband had to capture a picture of me cooking.  I do cook once in a while, but it seems I am learning how to cook all over again.  To everyone's disappointment, the split pea soup was not very good.  Jon wanted to know why since I used to make such good split pea soup.  Two reasons:  I am relearning to cook, and I didn't let it cook long enough because I knew everyone was hungry.

While we were cooking, Atticus made himself at home in the family room by watching t.v. and playing with a toy he had brought with him.  It was good to have Atticus in the house again after having him gone for a year and a half.  It was good to have all three of them back in the United States!

Jon and Sam decided they needed to a little advance planning for the upcoming holidays.  With a calendar, napkin, cell phone and pen in hand, they got busy planning the days they had in Colorado before they were to head back to Boston.  Bangladesh to Colorado to Boston:  that is a long trip to make.      The last part of the journey from Colorado to Boston was to made by car.

Sam is diligently planning and writing out her plans on a napkin.  As she said, "All great plans started out being developed on a napkin."

While they planned away, my husband caught me checking my ever present Blackberry.

Christmas Eve

Daughter Amy opened up her home for the Christmas holidays.  Her home in the northern part of the state was located closer to Utah and the airport at DIA, so it seemed to be a better choice for the family gathering.  She had a very full house of siblings, nieces and nephews and friends.  Grandma and Grandpa stayed at a nearby hotel.

Christmas Eve dinner of green chili and tamales was delicious.  Amy set a beautiful table for us.  Joni, Julie's and Amy's friend joined us in the celebration of Christmas Eve and Joni's birthday.  She even brought her own cake for us to have dessert.

After dinner, the children played a few games, and then it was time for them to open one gift each.  Each grandchild had a package under the tree from Grandma Sally.  Inside of the look alike boxes were new Christmas pajamas.  This little project, thought of just before Christmas turned out to be one that took some doing.  Have you ever tried to find four pairs of matching boys pajama bottoms in sizes 16 to 10?  Then, trying to find tops to match the bottoms was even more of a challenge.  

Mason with gift

The surprise of it all was worth the challenge.  I thought it would be so much fun to have all the grandkids in matching p.j.'s.  Who knows when they will all be together for Christmas again.  (Only six of seven grandchildren were there.  One daughter and her daughter were not able to come over from Utah.)

I found the boys' pajamas, matching fleece bottoms at Penney's.  I was afraid I'd never find matching tops, so I bought each boy new white t-shirts to wear just in case I could find tops.  They ended up liking the t-shirt best anyway.  I found the pajama's for the girls at The Children's Place.

Opening the gifts

Grandma cleaning up the boxes

Regan and Hannah in their new p.j.s

My beautiful girls
Amy, Hannah and Regan

The good-looking boys
Bridger, Parker, Atticus and Mason

 

Aunt Amy, Parker, Atticus, Hannah, Regan

An attempt to get a group shot of the grandchildren in their new Christmas pajamas proved to be unsuccessful.  There were just too many moving parts!

Checking Santa's whereabouts 

After everyone under the age of 14 was ready for bed, it was time to remind them that the sooner they got to bed, the sooner Santa could come.  After a check on the computer to see where Santa was in his trip to Colorado, it was decided he was getting close.  After all, Atticus had just flown from the North Pole just about ten days before.  If Santa was in Nebraska, he was getting close.

The kids and the adults all agreed that Christmas morning gift opening would begin at 7:00 a.m.  Then, the kids were all off to bed.  The adults got out Trivia Pursuit, and Grandma Sally and Grandpa Jim went back to the hotel.

I will write more about Christmas in another post.

Retirement Dreams, Fantasies and Realities

Late last week, after my massage, my husband picked me up and took me with him on a ride across town to pick up something from the school where he had served as principal.  School was just letting out for the day as we drove down Wessely Drive and parked the car in front of the school in the visitor spot located just to the left of the spot designated "Principal Only."  I looked up at the sign, then over at my husband and asked, "Do you miss it?"

My mind went back to the day, one of the last of his 40+ years in education, when the senior class surprised him by successfully naming the street directly in front of the high school where he had served as beloved principal for 11 years named after him.  He was overwhelmed by the honor.

Now, as then, he was ready for retirement.  He had served well and had earned a sterling reputation for being a much loved, respected, and admired educator.  No one thought he could ever really give it up.  He worked too hard and loved it too much.

His adamant answer, "Not at all."   As we walked in the school, headed to the office to the athletic director, by habit, I started toward the principal's office in the opposite direction.  "This way, dear," he said.  Ah, yes, we aren't going where our lives had centered for so long.   I was headed to his old office without even thinking.

On his last day in a place where he spent most of his waking hours, I took a few photos to record the event.   He was excited and ready to move on to a new venture in his life.  He'd been in school since he was four years old, and now at age 63, he was ready to close the door.

That didn't mean that it wasn't sad to leave so much of his life behind, it was.  I was actually taking a photo of the bullet hole in the blinds in this photo below.  Yes, someone had shot a gun into his office.  Thankfully, it was after hours and no one was there.  His ever present mottos  of "Do Right, Be Kind" and "Something Extra for South" are seen in the photos.  In taking the photo, I caught him in a reflective moment.

Last week, after our visit to the school, where everyone still comes up to him to get one of his famous handshakes, we went to the basketball game.  We may be retired, but we still are almost always found at the sporting events.  We value the connections, the friendships, the traditions that we made at South High School.  Without those connections and others, retirement would be very lonely.

Many of the dreams of retirement have been fulfilled.  He reads constantly.  This is a treat that he never had time for when he was working.  He works in the yard with me.  He does all the heavy lifting, digging and moving.  We used to walk the dog everyday together.  We've traveled.  We've tried to spend more time with family.  He treasures his weekly lunches, breakfasts and dinners with colleagues.  He bought a new camera which he is learning.  He has a key board that he intends to get back to so he can learn to play the piano.   He spends a lot of time researching his interests on the computer.  He is a crazy man on the elliptical at the "Y."  He is faithful at working out and walking.  These are the dreams of retirement that have been fulfilled.

The realities have been that after the two knee replacements that he had while he was working, he had to have his hip replaced during the summer of 2009.  The other reality is that he is my mainstay as I work through grief.  We did not expect to have this experience in our retirement years.

We'd only been home from our month long trip to Europe for two weeks when Julie died.  Since that time, I don't know what I would have done without him.  His kindness, his support, his empathy, his constant presence, his ability to take over all of the paperwork associated with a death, his humor, his desire to meet my every whim and desire, and his words of wisdom are typical of this man that I married.

Last week, at the basketball game, his one simple act showed me again how he is ever present and ever ready to meet my needs before I even ask.  He had gone off into the crowd to shake hands and spend time with his "boys."  He mentored every high school principal in this town.  All four of them worked with him as assistant principal at one time or another.  We were playing the school of the across the town rival.  Their principal had been Jim's AP before retirement, and he had gone to the other side of gym to visit with him.  About 20 minutes after he left my side, I took out my phone to give my dear husband a call to see if he would bring me a bottle of water on his way back to our seat.  Just then, before I could even dial his number,  I saw my husband walking up the steps toward me with a bottle of water in his hand.  Yes, it was for me.  He knew I would want one.  Before I even asked, there he was again with just what I needed.

Retirement is not always like we planned, but I  am blessed with a mate that is with me in retirement, in life, and in grief.  My girlfriends used to say I am spoiled by him.  Yes, I guess I am.  I like to think I am just very blessed.  Even if our dreams are not all of what we expected, we are together, and that is what matters most.

A Relapse of Sorts

My father told me more than once that no one really want to hear about all of our aches and pains.  In so many ways, he was absolutely right.  On the other hand, those words and the idea that we must always put our best face forward can be a trap that can ensnare us and keep us from being authentic.  Authenticity is important if one is to be a writer and if one is to be true to one's self.

I've had a relapse that has shocked me and caused me to take stock all over again about how devastating the loss of my daughter has been to me.  My therapist, yes, I've been seeing one for help with my loss, said she was not surprised at my new feelings of loss and sorrow.  I was doing too well she said not for her to expect it.

And so, Christmas set me back, way back.  Along with the waves of sorrow, I've also suffered physical pain.  Since about December 21, I have had excruciating pain in my upper left quadrant of my back.  I've been under the care of my doctor, a chiropractor, a physical therapist, and a massage therapist.  I am going for my fifth massage in the past three weeks in just a few minutes.  Massage and heat help me the most.  Hopefully, we will soon find out what is causing this terrible pain.  Fibromyalgia has been suggested, but there is no diagnosis.  I am schedule to have MRI tests next week.

I hesitate to post this because of those old voices in the head about keeping our pain to ourselves, but if I am to record this journey that I am on honestly, I need to write about what trials I am going through.  Sympathy is not what one in my situation needs.  Support is what is needed.  I know that I have that, and for that I am grateful.

Beautiful sunset

This evening I sit in my favorite chair gazing out of the window of the family room onto my snow covered yard.  I am filled with peace as I admire the soft orange, purple and bluish gray hues of the sunset.  It is early, not even 5:00 p.m., but the sun is setting for the last time on 2010.  I am truly blessed by the beauty outside my window.  The rose bushes are wearing their fluffy white winter coats.  The undisturbed snow blanketed yard is a reminder that Buster is gone.  I  miss my dear golden retriever friend.

We've had many losses this year.  Christmas was much more difficult than I ever thought it would be. Many times,  I found myself sensing that something was really wrong with the day because it seemed incomplete.  I was surrounded by my children and grandchildren.  For that I am so grateful.  We had such a great time, but this mother of five kept counting heads and kept coming up short.  I don't know if I will ever get over the counting and being shocked anew that one is no longer with us.

The great hole in my heart and in my family will never be filled, yet in the waning light of this day, as the sun sets on 2010, I am grateful for much.  I have known more love than I ever thought possible.  I have experienced grace that has expanded my soul and deepened my faith.  Many loyal friends have been there for me.  My family has kept me sane as they laughed and cried along with me on this journey as we try to adjust to our great loss. I look forward to the dawn of a new day and of a new year.

Happy New Year!  May the new year bring each of you hope, joy, and many blessings.

O Holy Night

www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Ouo-uKtU0w

While I think Susan Boyle has a wonderful voice, and I am touched by her rendering of my favorite Christmas song, I  only wish that I had a video recording of my mother singing "O Holy Night" for a Christmas Eve service at the church in Colorado Springs where she had married my father, and where we attended services faithfully every Sunday.  My mother's rendering of this hymn back in 1958 remains my favorite Christmas memory.

Though this event occurred over 52 years ago,  the memory of it is still crisp, clear, and much treasured.  My mother's solo opened the service.  I still see her dressed in a 50's style dress made of green raw silk.  She'd made the dress herself.  At her ears crystal earrings sparkled against her wavy black hair.  Her beautiful, clear soprano voice sweetly filled the church.  It was evident that the song came from her heart.  It was not just a performance.

From afar, dressed as an angel, I watched her as I stood at the back of the church waiting to make my entrance with a host of other pre-teen angels to light the candles that were placed throughout the church.  I was nearly overcome with pride and love as I watched her with amazement and listened to her sing.  I thought I had never seen a more beautiful woman with a more beautiful voice.  

She is now 94 years old.  Whenever I get the chance to stand next to her in church and listen to her sing, I am still amazed at her beauty and at the beauty of her voice.  I find myself trying to make a mental recording of her voice.  I never want to forget how beautiful it is.

Merry Christmas, Mother.  I love you.  Thank you for all the Christmas memories that you made for us, for all of the beautiful clothes that you made us to wear, and, most of all,  for teaching us the true meaning of Christmas.

Straight from the North Pole

My son, his wife, and my grandson came home from Bangladesh this past week.  They have been living half way across the world for the past 18 months.   They had boarded a plane in Dhaka over thirty hours before they finally touched down in Denver on December 16.  I had a copy of the itinerary and knew they were flying from Dhaka, to Dubai, to L.A., to Denver, but I wasn't sure exactly what the flying route would be.

When they finally reached my daughter-in-law's sister's house,  I was one very happy lady to see them again!

Soon after they arrived to the Denver area, where we had gone to greet them home, I asked my seven year old grandson what route their flight had taken.  "Over the North Pole," was his reply.  "Yes, we flew over the North Pole," he said again with a look of amazement on his face.  "The North Pole, really?" I asked.  At his age I would not have even been able to fathom such an experience.  I felt almost foolish asking my next question, "Did you see Santa Claus?"  I mean, really, do you ask a seven year old if he saw Santa when he himself just flew over the North Pole?  "No," he said with all seriousness, he had not seen Santa, Mrs. Santa, or any of the elves.  "It was really dark outside.  It was dark.  We couldn't see anything."  He then went on to recount that they had also flown over Russia after they had flown over India.  After flying over Russia, they found themselves flying over the North Pole.

I am amazed at the experiences that this little family has had.  Atticus has seen more of this world in his first seven years than I can hope to see.  He lived in an exotic, difficult, interesting place where he was delivered daily by rickshaw to an international French bilingual school where he learned to read in French and in English.  He has traveled around to the other side of the globe four different times now.  He understands geography in ways most of us never will.

 Soon after his grueling journey, I glimpsed  my grandson as sat on the couch seemingly trying to adjust to the cold Colorado weather he had just encountered after boarding a plane in a tropical country.  He was the very picture of jet lag.  Before long, my world traveler was asleep with his beloved Oso, the teddy bear that I gave him for his very first Christmas, tucked under his arm.

Sometimes, you give or get the perfect gift.  I think that dear old bear was the perfect Christmas gift for my little grandson back in 2002.  In 2010, he was the perfect gift for this grandma.  He came special delivery via the North Pole.

Welcome home, Jon, Sam, and Atticus!

I'm in your corner...

I'm learning that dealing with grief is like being in a boxing ring.  I must confess that I've never been in a boxing ring, but I'm sure that there are many comparisons that can be made between boxing and dealing with grief.  Let me give you a few examples of why I have been thinking how dealing with grief and boxing are similar.

A boxer enters the ring expecting to take some blows.  I'm sure that after the first few powerful punches, the boxer learns that he must have the courage, the fortitude and the self-confidence to get up again each time he or she is knocked to the ground. Grief, like boxing, delivers some pretty powerful punches.  Unlike the boxer in the ring, the person who is dealing with overwhelming grief and bereavement, does not always expect the next punch.

I sometimes forget I am in a fight, one that I hope will lead to healing and acceptance of that which I cannot change. I get busy with living life and dealing with the day to day demands of being a wife, mother, grandmother, daughter, sister, friend and teacher.  I think I am carrying on quite well.  The house is cleaned, the Christmas decorations are mostly up, and I am busy with my social and professional life.
Then, out of nowhere, I am knocked to the ground by thoughtless, seemingly uncaring, remarks or by unrealistic demands.  I get up and keep going forward.  I remember that not everyone knows that when a  person is dealing with grief, each day is struggle.  Not everyone understands that the first year in the journey of grief can be a very rough trip.  When I get knocked down by someone else, I try to forgive, get up, and press forward.  I am determined that no one will steal my joy during the holiday season.

Then, the next punch comes.  This type of punch is the hardest to bear.  It is the punch that memory delivers.  I just happened to come across a photo, one I didn't remember seeing before.  It was a photo taken of Julie last Christmas in Utah.  Last year, she wanted to be with the Utah branch of the family for Christmas, so I had given her an airline ticket as her Christmas gift.  In the photo, there she was, very much alive, stunningly beautiful, and, as always, smiling at the camera.  She is surrounded by two of her siblings, her sister-in-law, four of her nieces and nephews and her father.  She is happy.  She looks like she is at peace.  She looks as if she doesn't have a care in the world and is only enjoying being surrounded by family.

The fam at Snow Basin, Utah

Then, I study the photo of Julie with my oldest son, Ryan, my oldest daughter, Keicha, and her father, and my former husband, Barry.  It just looks like a typical family photo.  No one knew it would be the last time that the four would gather for an informal recording of a family gathering.

Keicha, Barry, Julie, & Ryan

Julie and Sheridan

Julie had many friends.  She kept in touch with most of them on a fairly regular basis.  While she was in Utah, she met up with Sheridan, her dear friend and roommate from her University of Utah days.  There's that dazzling smile and those sparkling blue eyes again.  That smile, those eyes, they never fail to deliver a punch theses days.

But, I digress, I was writing about how dealing with grief and boxing are alike.  One would never step into a boxing ring without training and conditioning for a fight.  Unfortunately, when death visits a family unexpectedly,  there has been no warning that one should have been training for the fight of one's life.  I've learned that's where faith comes in.  After many years of building a solid foundation of faith in God, I can say with assurance that I have believed totally and utterly in the absolute sovereignty of God.   Because of that foundational belief,  I have been able to keep the fight of faith going as I struggle with the pain of loss, regret, and sorrow.  After the loss of a child, especially to suicide, I believe it is safe to say that one's faith is either lost, found or strengthened.  My faith has been strengthened.  The fight of faith continues to go on.  Truly, "morning by morning, new mercies I see."

There is no doubt that, just as the boxer needs people to coach him, to help him in his training exercises, to encourage him when he is down, I have also needed people in my corner.  I have had many.  My husband is my mainstay.  When one enters the ring to fight, it becomes very clear where your friends are.  You know who is really pulling for you.  So many of my friends and family members have been there for me before I even asked for their help.  Julie's friends have also been there for all of us.  Team 8:08 has been the best!

I heard a story that Dan Rather told about being in the boxing ring.  He said that when he was knocked to the ground and did not think he could get up, he heard a voice in his corner and it kept calling his name.  He said that was how he was able to get up again.  I've heard your voices, those of you who are in my corner.  I hear you calling my name.  Thank you for being there.