The Oak Tree

A week has passed since I left my parents home. Returning home was nice, but the dazed undertone of my emotions returned soon after. I pretty much resigned from all duties outside the home. The simple tasks that complimented my life seemed pretty minimal compared to the events that had taken place a week earlier. The grey cloud was trying to pass from above my head, but in a way I found comfort in it.

Trying to explain this to anyone is useless. Unless you have had to mourn something in some form or fashion, you will never understand. Everyone deals with grief and disappointment differently. I realize this after spending literally every waking minute with my parents and siblings this past month. We are all very different...each with different opinions, beliefs and lives. Yet, the common bond that we share is a collective heartache for my dad. We have all had disappointment in our lives. Maybe it was the job you didn't get, or the test you didn't pass. Maybe it was your child's behavior or just a moment when you stuck your foot in your mouth. My dad just went through a major disappointment, but he came through it victoriously!

As I pulled into the driveway, I watched as the wind shook the leaves from their branches. It was almost as if it was raining leaves. I have yet to begin to rake them, instead enjoying their blanket of protection they lend to the yard. I long for that blanket of protection too....for my heart.

I came across this poem about a mighty Oak and I soon realized the mighty Oak in this poem describes my dad, too. Resilient, strong, unshaken...with roots deeper than you could ever imagine...a fighter. The similarities strike me as an omen of sorts. One brought to me like a present from nature.

The Oak Tree
A mighty wind
Blew night and day
It stole the oak tree's leaves away

Then snapped its boughs
And pulled its bark
Until the oak was tired and stark

But still the oak tree held its ground
While other trees fell all around
The weary wind gave up and spoke
How can you still be standing Oak

The oak tree said, I know that you
Can break each branch of mine in two
Carry every leaf away
Shake my limbs, and make me sway

But I have roots stretched in the earth
Growing stronger since my birth
You'll never touch them, for you see
They are the deepest part of me

Until today, I wasn't sure
Of just how much I could endure
But now I've found, with thanks to you
I'm stronger than I ever knew

~ Johnny Ray Ryder, Jr. ~

Hierarchy & Bribery

It wasn't until recently that I noticed there was a hierarchy when it came to grandchildren. On a recent visit to see my darling Bachie(my 91 year old grandmother)a competition of sorts ensued. I went to visit her along with my mom and two sisters. You could see the three of us look quickly around her apartment to see how many pictures of each of us were displayed. I sat quietly...my children were represented, but I didn't see one picture of myself. My oldest sister had a few of pictures but my other sister's representation was over the top. Everywhere you looked, she smiled down at you, almost pitiful, because you didn't hold the same title. My Bachie explained the reasoning behind all of this.
1) She had spent the most time with my oldest sister, Cameron, therefore she holds a special place in her heart. She is not truly represented in "numbers" because she is not married with children. She used to receive the most phone calls from Cameron, but not anymore. To this, my sister promptly pulled out her phone and began to list off call dates..."what year", my Bachie exclaimed.
2) Allison's "shrine" is located all over the apartment. Above the tv, in her bedroom, kitchen...you name it, Ali is there. She hold the most honorable place of all, too. Her baby picture, wedding pictures, and locks of hair sit behind the locked glass of the curio cabinet. Gag!


3) When it was brought to Bachie's attention that there were very few pictures of me, she exclaimed that indeed, she had pictures of me up in a very special place. She said to look in the bathroom!e(How fitting.) So we all ran into the bathroom. Unable to locate them, she said to open up the cabinet. There I was, proudly displayed among a light bulb, cardboard trash, and other miscellaneous toiletries.


It was at that moment I realized that I would never make it to the "Curio Hall Of Fame". I didn't have enough calls logged to her nor did I have beautiful locks of hair to give. Naming my daughter after her, also wouldn't cut it. I wonder where my pictures will be displayed on my next visit. This is after I send her some delicious coconut macaroons...bribery always works, right?

Phase Four

....all the Kings horses and all the Kings men(Dr. Howard & Fellows)couldn't put my dad back together again.

...but, that isn't stopping him.

Phase four of my dad's plan will begin soon. His story...to be continued!

In Hades Kitchen

Once upon a time, a wonderful family moved in across the street. They moved to North Carolina from Long Island..West Babylon, to be exact. I fell madly in love with all seven of them (yes, you heard correct)! I quickly learned the rules and the lingo, and in some regards became one of them. Or rather, they became one of me. They supported and loved me when I was at my worst(I've been there) and were angels unaware, as they came alongside me to help out with our sick friend, Lee. AML became my best friend(an unlikely match, but it works beautifully) She is just what I need when I am feeling down or sorry for myself. A simple, "Put on your big girl panties and deal with it", is her daily reminder.

This brings me to her hubby, Roger. A man of few words(I love him dearly)unless he wants you to hear him, he works tirelessly for his family. I could always count on a delicious meal on Sunday nights...his penne a la vodka..wOw!! This week he interviews for the great show, Hell's Kitchen. Personally, I don't know anyone who would want to try and express their culinary talents while being screamed at and undermined by other contestants, but if anyone in this world can do it....it's Roger. He will certainly bring his Long Island, Southern transplanted self, and show up big time with his culinary creations.

So, Mr. Roger...we wish you the best of luck! Don't forget, I want my own table at your new restaurant and a personal introduction to the chef! Here's to you!

Waiting

The kids waited and waited for the arrival of their Ma & Pa who came to visit. My dad's surgery is scheduled a week from today, so they graced us with their presence for a few days. I just love this pic of Sis Margaret waiting for them to arrive.

Trying Silence

I am trying.

Trying to be silent.

Trying to listen.

Trying to let Him speak to me.

Trying to calm the "noise" of my life.

I am amazed of the many things He has spoken to me.

I think I will be quiet a little longer & remain in this silence.

Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.
Romans 12:12

I Wish You a Blessed Day

I have two and a half hours, three days a week, while Sis Margaret is at school. I have good intentions to go to Starbucks or Carribou and sit with a good book, a latte and most of my sanity. Unfortunately, the reality of being a mom of three, with more obligations than I can juggle, catch up with me. This time is more appropriately spent rushing to get milk and bread, run to the bank, calm the family "Daily Drama", etc. Therefore, my mind is spread over a million places just reaffirming I am alive and "normal" in this world of "normal".

It was truck day at TJ Maxx, so I had to just take a sneak peek to see if any new goodies arrived. I was ready to pull out of the parking lot into another lot and proceeded to turn left. The minute I did, a huge pick-up truck came barreling around the corner...out of nowhere. Trust me when I say I am a excellent driver :) Let's just say he wasn't very pleased with my choice of timing. As I made my other turn into the parking lot, his two middle fingers shot up quicker than a game of fast draw. He was sure to let me know he was very angry.

Oftentimes, the rage of having red hair would come out and I would politely reply back with my own form of insult along with a little prayer that he would have uncontrollable diarrhea(my mom taught me that one)! Thanks Mom! Instead, I was so overwhelmed with anger , I pulled over and cried. Now, this man could have cared less that his quick reaction would draw such a dramatic reaction from a girl like myself, but it did. He continued into the Walmart parking lot and continued about his day...probably never giving it much thought again that he affected me emotionally like he did.

The point I am trying to make isn't that I was a big cry baby because someone hurt my feelings, but it is to recognize that every single interaction that you have with people on a daily basis can be construed in a certain way. How you react to the elderly lady in the grocery line writing a check, or the sales clerk who didn't ring up your discount correctly can mean so much. We don't have a telepathic way of knowing what someone might be going through outside of that situation. The man in the truck didn't know that I had closed a few windows, that my dad had cancer, that I am in still awaiting news on a huge family changing event. He didn't know that his lovingly gesture would send me over the edge. So, as you go about your day, be aware how you react to those around you. Say a little prayer for them. Wish them a blessed day.

btw...I must be honest. I did wish the truck driver a bad case of diarrhea, but with a bathroom and a bottle of Imodium nearby. I also did it in the form of prayer, with a blessing of a good day. Does that count?