Jes2cu:)

This is my beautiful friend, Jes.  To know her is to love her.  She always brought an infectious energy to the room.  Her laugh was unforgettable and her smile was as radiant as her spirit.  She taught me so much in life over the last 25 years of friendship.  (Jes even gave me the name for this blog many years ago in a conversation we had wherein she was commiserating with me about being the Mom of all boys.)  

Unfortunately, she has taught me a lot about death and loss, as well.  Jes passed away on August 4, 2017 from metastatic breast cancer.  She fought ridiculously hard to hold on for all who loved her - her friends, family, and mostly for her husband and three young boys.  But God wanted her home.

In the weeks that have followed I have found myself thinking of her constantly - even more than usual. I often find myself wishing she were here to ask a question of, give advice, or just hang out with a cup of coffee and a lesson on her latest craft.  What I've learned (the hard way) is that life is too damn short.  I know people say that all the time, but I guess I'm slow and stubborn and it took losing someone (my age!) who was (until recently) ALWAYS there when I needed her, to learn this lesson first hand.  

The problem is/was that I let life get in the way too often.  Looking back over emails, text messages or G-chats Jes and I would send back and forth, there was a resonating repetition in our messages.  "Let's get together when the weather gets better" or "the next couple weeks are crazy so let's try after the holidays" or "I miss you, when can I see you?" (with no response from one or the other of us for WEEKS or MONTHS to set up a date).  There was no conscious realization that we'd NOT have a chance to reschedule or NOT have a chance in the future to set something up LATER.  The unfortunate result of this was that I found myself saying, "I really thought we'd have more time",  A LOT at her bedside in Hospice and ultimately at her funeral.  

Well, time ran out.  And now I'm kicking myself for not making better use of the time we had.

Rewind a few years...

When Jes called me to tell me the devastating news she had just received, I remember getting off the phone and calling my mother - My Aunt had recently been diagnosed with breast cancer so I wanted to know how my Mom was helping her.  Through tears I asked my Mom, "What can I do!?!" and "How can I help?".  With the confident wisdom that only a mother can impart, she said the best thing to do was to let Jes know she wasn't alone and that I was here and thinking of her.  My mom did that for my Aunt by sending her cards to keep in touch.  

So I went out and bought a bunch of cards.  Thinking of you.  Miss you.  Friendship.  Get well soon.  You name it, I picked them up everywhere I went.  I stocked up on them in droves so I'd have just the card needed for just the right time.  At first I was good at sending them.  I'd drop Jes a card or a note or a text to tell her she was in my thoughts.  I'd let her know I was here if she needed anything.  But as time went on and as she seemed to be handling everything with the strength and ease I honestly expected from her anyway, I got lazy (?), complacent (?), COMFORTABLE with the idea that she was strong and would kick cancer's butt and be just FINE.  Meanwhile, LIFE got busy, my check-ins were met with a confident and positive Jes telling me things were good and scans were showing positive news.  Life continued to get in the way and before long it would be weeks or even months between my contact.  Like I said before, I really felt like TIME was on our side.  Boy was I was wrong.

So, as I walked around my house after Jes passed away I found myself staring at this stockpile of cards I had bought to send to her and wondered, "Now what?".  I totally screwed that up.  Now I had this visual reminder of what a crappy friend I had been and how short life really is.  I was remembering on a daily (sometimes hourly) basis how easily opportunities can slip away from you and how we DON'T always have MORE TIME.  

So, I decided to take that lesson and make sure I never took my friends and loved ones for granted again.  If I was thinking of them, I wanted them to know.  If they had done something I was grateful for, I was going to tell them.  As silly as it is, I didn't want anyone else to die without knowing exactly what they meant to me.

I started sending those cards I had stockpiled to friends and family (far and wide).  I sent them to friends I see often and those I haven't seen or talked to in ages.  A few at a time, every week or so I'd have the names of people that had crept into my thoughts throughout the week.  (My list is longer now than my stamp budget, but I'll get to everyone.  I promise.) 

Then I got a few texts or messages from friends saying they had received my card(s) and that it made them smile.  A couple friends mentioned that they had been having a bad day or a hellish week and that my card was just what they needed.  One friend even said that it meant a lot to know that she "mattered if in some small way" and that it was a "much needed pick me up...in this chaotic adult life that can be boring, routine, complicated and so very harsh".  THIS is exactly what I needed and just what I wanted to spread.  I want to make sure the people in my life who have made me who I am never question the impact they have on the world.  

So I decided to make this my mission (?) or project of sorts.  It's a work in progress but it makes me happy to spread smiles, I guess.  So I asked my sister to come up with a logo for my project.  I call it my "Jes2cu:)" (Just to see you smile) project.  

The "Jes" in the logo is Jes's actual signature which makes me happy every time I see it.  

And so I will spread love and smiles whenever I can, in honor of my beloved Jes.  It sucks that I had to learn this lesson by losing her.  But I hope to never make the mistake of letting a moment go by without letting the people I care most about know they are important and loved.  Every time I stick a stamp on a card being sent to someone special, I can almost see her beautiful smile!

Bundles of note cards I put together to give to friends so they, too, can spread the love to people THEY care about.  

Community

 

     com·mu·ni·ty

         kəˈmyo͞onədē/

        noun

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2.    1.

      a feeling of fellowship with others, as a result of sharing common attitudes, interests, and goals.

   
   

      "the sense of community that organized religion can provide"

 

A dear friend of mine, David, used to say "you build community wherever you go".  He was a world traveler with fascinating experiences to share and valuable life lessons to teach.  He was brilliant and undeniably left an indelible mark on this world before Cancer took him in 2013.

This phrase has always stuck with me...yet until this week I never fully understood its impact and power.

 

I got word on Tuesday that another lifelong friend, Jes, was moved to Hospice after an all too long and difficult fight with Cancer.  It has finally taken its toll on her amazingly strong body and spirit.  I sat there in a daze trying to figure out what to do, how to help, why any of this was happening.  I felt lost and confused and full of dread for what was to come.
 

As I walked into Hospice that first day after getting the news, my anxiety was at an all time high.  Here I was in a beautiful, yet somber building, in an unfamiliar town, not knowing what to expect and definitely not wanting to be there in the first place.  As I stepped through the doors of her room, I was greeted by a room full of faces, both familiar and new.  Some of these people I had known for a lifetime yet hadn't seen in years, some I knew more superficially, but most I had never even met until that moment.  

 

As the hours and days have worn on, I have spent a LOT of time in that room with these people.  I have learned their names, their stories, who they "belong" to/with. I have slowly figured out their connections.  And they have learned mine.  Each of them has welcomed me in with (literal) open arms.  As the only "past" person there in a room full of blood relatives, family, and friends who live richly in her "present", I haven't once felt like an outsider.  Instead, I have come to count on these people for strength, updates, and support.  I look forward to seeing them again every day.  Hospice has since become a place of love and camaraderie, jokes and playfulness (as odd as that sounds).  I have found solace there in this group of people feeling the same feelings and walking the same path.  We each have our role to play - caregiver, meal planner, information sharer, medical expert, shift scheduler, comic relief...Our contributions are all different but each part makes up a whole.  Each of us is a piece in the puzzle of community that we have built around Jes, her family and each other. 

 

We are no longer strangers from different towns, backgrounds and times in Jes's life.  We are suddenly a COMMUNITY of friends, united by a common love for this amazing woman and a shared sadness for the journey we were traveling with her.  This amazing community she has built around her makes me both proud and sad.  I am so proud (and not surprised in the least) that Jes has this rich group of amazing people that love and adore her as much as I do.  However, I am sad that I didn't know many of them until now.  I am also immensely relieved to know that her husband and three wonderful boys will continue to have the love and support of these fabulous people to carry them through the next few weeks, months and years.

 

Shortly after she was diagnosed with cancer, I was talking online with Jes and wrote, "We'll get through this, my dear. You're not alone. Now is when all your years of being wonderful to everyone else will come back to provide strength and support for you!  Because you have earned all the love that we will now shower on you :)".  These words were genuine and sincere at the time yet somehow I never quite knew just HOW true and genuine they would become. 

Our journey together is not yet over, though the end does appear to draw near.  Please pray for peace for my dear Jes.   

#thisis40

As much as I wish I could change it, I will turn 40 in ten days.  Ten Days until I turn the big 4-0.  I'm trying to be positive and embrace the number.  Really, I am.  I am doing my best to channel my BFF and focus on my many blessings.  I attempt every day to remember accomplishments made over the past 14,600 days.

I'm struggling though.  2016 has been the year of all my friends turning 40.  They all seem to be embracing it.  So many of my friends have been posting photos taken on fabulous trips to exotic places to commemorate their 40th.  They've taken on big goals, done amazing things, accomplished fascinating dreams, or simply just embraced the fabulous people they are.  All under the hashtag, "thisis40".  It has me really trying to figure out, what is 40 for ME?  I'm not planning any trips anywhere amazing.  I haven't accomplished any grand dream or even made a huge impact on the world around me.  I'm not even sure what I want to be when I grow up yet.

When I was in my 20s people older than me would tell me when I got to be in my 30s and 40s I'd care less what people think, I'd find a self confidence I was then lacking.  Forty sounded so liberating.  I always figured by my thirties and forties I would finally know who I am, what I was supposed to do in this world and where I belonged.  I am so not there.

Forty has me physically out of shape, emotionally exhausted and seemingly messing up everything I touch.  My house is a mess, my brain is just as cluttered, and I never quite have it all together.  This isn't the grace and style I was hoping to have by now.  

Will I ever get there?  I guess I have 10 days to figure that out.  Wish me luck.    

Black Cloud

It's been months since I posted anything here.  It's not because there hasn't been anything noteworthy happening.  Quite the opposite, actually.  We've had big stuff going on.  Lots of firsts to report.  Memories made, big adventures to share.  It certainly isn't that I haven't had the words running around in my head.  Lord knows I am never in short supply of random thoughts, worries, concerns, memories I want to remember and stories I'm itching to share.

What I'm lacking (lately) is clarity.  Focus.  The want and desire is there...but the follow through and the coherent thought and motivation needed to get the words out is conveniently missing.

Today, however, was one of those days.  One of those days that compounds everything I've been feeling for months and makes it bubble over.  I've had many of these days lately, but today had a face (or faces), and stories of sadness, loss, and heartache.  So many friends suffering.  So many of my friends receiving bad news and struggling through their own journeys.

And it wasn't just close, personal friends, it was friends of friends.  National news stories.  Local news stories.  So much pain and sorrow.  Marital conflict, messy, ugly divorces, freak accidents, untimely deaths, health issues in babies too young to know even have a start in life, tragic losses and horrible circumstances that make you question God, people, society....everything.  

Today was a Bad News Day.

As I sit here typing this, Alex is laying in my lap sleeping.  I look down at him and can't help but count my blessings.  Sure I've got my fair share of issues.  Stuff is far from perfect in my world...but my family is all HERE, we're all HEALTHY, and SAFE.

Life is short and fragile.  That's for sure.  It's my one hope that while I'm here I can make a difference, leave my mark, and create a legacy of some sort that lives on long after I'm gone.  If I can do that, then I will have done my part.  Until then, I'm off to hug my babies just a little tighter.  I suggest you do the same.

He's BACK...

Bolt is back!  Yippee!  I wrote a post a year or so ago to introduce Nathaniel's partner in crime and then out of the blue my Bug grew up and decided he didn't need Bolt, or Radar, or whatever his name was for the day.  I was devastated.  My baby was growing up and his constant sidekick was being kicked to the side.  *sniff*

Well today, just hours after telling me "Mom, I don't call him Bolt anymore...I don't know what his name is now", he came to his senses and said, "Eh, Bolt is back.  I missed him!"

So, with no further ado...I'd like to introduce you to Bolt (before he disappears from Nate's life and/or gets renamed, again!)  :

Bolt is Nathaniel's best buddy these days.  They fight crime together, they rescue princesses together, they run into burning building to save people, pets, and property.  In addition to Boo Bankie and Bedtime Bear, Bolt is Nathaniel's go-to BFF.  (*although since I originally wrote this, Boo Bankie and Bedtime Bear have become a thing of the past but that's a whole other sob story for another time, *sniff*).  Nate brings him everywhere we go, dresses him in fire outfits, even makes sure he gets fed, bathed, and tucked in at night.  Bolt has been seen rescuing Nathaniel from the confines of being tied up as he valiantly chews through the ropes to set Nate free!  Nate even puts him in the front seat of the car and buckles him in on car rides.  It's adorable.  He's a true friend!  

Bolt has taken a beating in his short life, however.  He's been dropped in mud puddles, dragged across the dirty ground on "his leash" and stuffed into the back of a Cozy Coupe to rush off to fire rescues.  Luckily for me (and Nate!) he's 100% washable so that makes for an easy save!

We love you, Bolt!  Glad to have you back and thanks for being a trusty friend to my Bug!   You'll always hold a special place in our hearts!

First and Last

As I see the light at the end of the tunnel looming and I look to the inevitable "lasts" (last dinner in our kitchen, last night sleeping here, last romp in the backyard), I find myself overwhelmed with sadness, anxiety, and nostalgia.

My cousin made reference on Facebook the other day to the latest Miranda Lambert song, The House That Built Me.  And while this house didn't build me from the ground up as The Homestead did, I do feel like it has molded me in many ways.  As I think about the "lasts" that are just around the corner, I'm reminded by all the "firsts" we've had here, too.

First house - First (and second) baby welcomed here - We got married here, had (semi-) annual New Year's Eve and Summer parties here, even hosted our first Thanksgiving and Christmas here.

We've had a lot of fun, shared a lot, grown a lot.  Anyone who really knows me knows I don't handle change well.  Specifically "moving on" change.  I don't part well with old belongings, I fear new beginnings and loathe big unknowns.  This move has all of those things associated with it so I just want to get this next week over with.  But instead of mourning the upcoming "lasts", I will cherish them and try to remember they are merely finishing the chapter that all those "firsts" began.  As my sister-in-law, Debbie, said..."New memories await!"

Time Capsule

In the process of this move from our first house, I'm saddened by the changes the new owners are planning to make upon closing.  The house will be for the buyer's 80-something-year-old mother so some renovations were talked about for the flooring and particularly for the bathroom to make it accessible for an elderly woman and her walker.

The thought that the new owners will come in and rip out our bathroom breaks my heart.  The bathroom is the one room we've done the most work to.  We completely gutted it 5 years ago, rebuilt it by hand from the studs, and I love it.  I even laid my first ceramic tile floor in that bathroom.

Thankyouverymuch!

It's the first project we tackled together and it's 100% OURS.

We took a hideous 1950s Italian bathroom (with gold fixtures, yellow walls, flamingos painted on the shower doors and gold marbled shell shaped sink) from this:

To this:

Dave mentioned something the other night that I had almost forgotten.  When we remodeled the bathroom in 2005 we put a time capsule in the wall behind the new drywall for someone to find in generations to come.  In a small container we placed coins from 2005, photos, a note with our story, and some other trinkets of the time.

Together with a newspaper from March 19th of that year, we lovingly boarded it up behind the drywall of our new bathroom with visions of someone in a far away time uncovering our history.   Little did we know at the time that it might be discovered just a few years later.

The thought seriously pains me.  All that hard work, all the investment, all that time, and effort, and love.  Gone.  They'll rip out our new bathtub that we picked out specifically big enough for two (much smaller, pre-kids people) to bathe in.  They'll get rid of our beautiful cherry vanity and mirror that we (literally!) bought before we were even planning to remodel and built the entire design of the bathroom around.  All the little things we loved about this house the new owners may throw aside without a second thought.

I have flashbacks of this when it comes to having to say goodbye to this house.  For all the good reasons why we're leaving, it sure won't be easy.  I'm just sayin'....

Peddling my wares...

I hate garage sales.

Now, don't get me wrong...I mean, I love shopping at them and I love how they allow me to get rid of useful stuff, earn some money, and get over my sentimental attachment to my stuff.

But I absolutely hate having a garage sale.  I don't like setting them up.  I despise gathering, cleaning, sorting, and pricing my baubles.  It's very difficult for me to put a price on something that means a lot to me but is simply taking up room (my children's baby items, a picture I bought to decorate our house when we first moved in that I just haven't found a use for yet, Nathaniel's stuffed animals that are reminiscent of the characters he loves but that he could basically care less about and are taking up WAY too much room.)  Putting a fair (garage sale) market price on sentimentality is HARD - there's a lot of pressure involved!

On top of the hassle of setting things up, it drives me nuts to deal with some of the people who come to garage sales.  You know the type - those people who want something for nothing.  Or think garage sale prices are still too much to pay so they barter - "Would you take 60 cents for this?  It's marked .75?".  Or they want something that's marked $10 but mysteriously only have $6 in their wallet so they'll have to run to the ATM/go cash a check at Wilson Farms/run home and ask their Mom for it.  

Then there are the lazy people.  Those people who don't want to get out of their cars to find out how much you're asking for something so they sit at the end of your driveway and yell out their car window "How much for the [insert item here]?"  

On top of that you have the advertising requirements, the sign placement strategies, keeping the kids occupied and OUT OF THE STUFF you have purposefully displayed for maximum affect and sale-ability.  I swear Nathaniel found a new love for everything we had in the garage sale despite how long it sat in his room untouched or how passe something had become prior to moving it out to the garage and putting a price sticker on it.  He kept telling me "Mommy, you have to get the toys out of the garage sale and put them back in my room".  Uh, no.  If I did that he'd have to lose something far more important to make room for that stuff again - like his bed, or about 15 of the 17 blankets he sleeps with.  Now, we wouldn't want that, would we?  

Anyway, speaking of the weather...does this look conducive to high garage sale traffic and killer profits? 

No, it doesn't.  But that's ok.  We actually made out pretty well, considering.  We sold some bigger ticket items early and day two had nicer weather which helped even things out.  

At least it's over now.  We took down the signs and put some stuff out on the curb.  Took photos to get some of the bigger (less storable stuff) up on Craigslist, then packed up the leftovers in boxes marked "Garage Sale" to do it all over again next year.  Now I think I'll take my $109 and go shopping for some more stuff.  

Inanimate Sentimentality

Today's Thinkbox drawing (chosen by my beloved husband) garnered the following question:  "Do you remember your family getting a new piece of furniture, a new car, or something similar when you were a child?"

As long as I can remember I've always had an unnatural attachment to things.  The mass quantity of boxes in my basement are a true testament to that fact.  I have old notes from middle school, tokens of love from high school, reports and papers from college.  Shoes I wore to the prom, a shirt an ex-boyfriend let me keep, old cats-eye glasses of my grandmother's.  Each item holds a memory, an old feeling, a reminiscent spark from a time gone by.  

It's a problem, really.  The number one reason why I find it so difficult to downsize and simplify my life.  But it's been this way for as long as I can remember.  I get attached easily to material things.  Which brings me to my answer to today's thinkbox question.

When I was little (I'd guess maybe 5 or 6) my parents traded in their grey station wagon (It had an actual name but I don't recall it at the moment - phantom?  ghost?)  Anyway, I vividly remember taking that car to the dealership where we were picking up our new (1980-something Renault Alliance!) and leaving that car behind.  I was DEVASTATED!  I clung to the backseat of that car and cried my little eyes out.  I was a mess!  I sat in that backseat and hugged the car, told the car that it had been a good car, that it wouldn't be forgotten...Sad, I know.  Ok, less sad - more pathetic.  But still - I was genuinely torn up!

What does this say, besides that I'm a freak?  Ultimately I think this really shows that I hate change.  At least in the case of the car.  I was NOT ready to warm up to a new car - a new seating arrangement, new fit and feel, or perhaps I was simply hesitant to have to learn the new location of the cupholders.  Who knows, really?  

As for my boxes in the basement.  That is more about my fear of forgetting.  I have a horrible memory and holding on to STUFF dupes me into thinking that I will somehow remember all the adventures, mishaps, relationships, and fun I've had along the way.  Too bad that doesn't guarantee anything.  

Lord help me when it comes time to trade in my precious Honda Civic!  Millie has been very good to me for the last 10 years and 120,000 miles!  And truth be told, I'm not ready to have to figure out how to re-program a new clock for Daylight Savings Time!  Oh, no!  I can feel the tears welling up as I write this!  Does anyone have a tissue?!?