A Christmas tribute to my parents

This is my first Christmas without a living parent. My dad has been gone for six years and my mom since last March. It isn't new news. But it seems as if it is.

I've only realized lately how much of my emotions and memories of the season are tied up with them. What a gift I had in them as parents. Yes, they made mistakes, they were not always who I wanted them to be, but they always made Christmas a happy holiday,  right until the end.

Tonight Jon and I wrapped presents together. What a wonderful first that was. While we wrapped we played one of my mom's Christmas CD's. I suddenly found myself back in time, standing next to my dad in church while my mom played the organ, singing "Angels We Have Heard On High", with my dad in a suit of course, singing his heart out. "Making a squeaky noise to The Lord" is how he put it.  Some of my best memories of my dad are connected with the time I spent with him on Christmas Eve. I loved all of his perfect imperfections.

What a contrast to last year when I shared tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich with my mom  for dinner at her assisted living facility. A far cry from the standing rib roast I grew up with. And yet, she had a tree, presents for anyone who came in her room, and as always a joyful and grateful attitude. What an amazing woman.

She was, as my brother-in-law so eloquently put it, a Christmas person. Full of joy, generosity, and hope for the new year.

She gave me so many material things over the years, but the best gift she ever gave me had no monetary value. It was the gift of herself; the woman who could find joy and light in the darkest of times, and in a sincere manner. Because of her, I value and treasure my siblings more, as they are the only people on the earth who share my history. She taught me the lesson about letting go of the hurts and focusing on the good. I learned to keep track of people, even when they aren't part of your daily life. I learned that relationships are more important than being right. 

And oh how I wish she were here to rejoice in my new life with my Jon. She would relish in it. He was "a nice boy" and he still is.

I've said often that life is a paradox. It is a combination of the happiest of times, combined with the truly bittersweet.

Merry Christmas Momo and Boppie. I miss you both every day, but especially these days. Remember how Grandpa Gatwood used to say he didn't want his children and grandchildren to forget him? We didn't. And it continues. We all still think of you both every day  and miss you so much. I know that I speak for all of us when I say that there is comfort in knowing you are together in eternity.

That's a legacy. 

Until we meet again, I send you all my love and gratitude for a life well lived.

Alie Baby

On the journey

Starting again

A few months after Glenn died so suddenly, I had a tattoo of his very distinctive signature put on the top of my foot. (Knowing my mother would be horrified at me having a tattoo, I always made sure to wear socks when I visited her!)  Episcopal priests, and Anglican priests,  use their first initial or name, with a plus sign after it it. It is not a cross, but a plus sign. It is a throwback from the Reformation as a secret sort of symbol that the person was a member of the Church of England. My tattoo says, G+ and is followed by a semi- colon., done in red that symbolizes my belief in the Resurection. The semi-colon is my metaphor for, " My life has paused, but it will continue."

My life did pause...for quite awhile. During that time I worked on building a life and a home for myself, and becoming accustomed to the new normal that was thrust on me. Everything was different; there were no more his and her house duties- they were all mine. I did things around here I never knew I could do. I readjusted my thinking to saying "my" instead of"ours".  I bought a car, a hot tub, redecorated my home and did things I never dreamed I could do, such as scuba diving in Mexico, and attending social events and family events by myself.

Crazy as this sounds, I've learned so much. Watching Glenn die 30 minutes after he complained of a stomachache was horrifying and traumatic, and I worked hard to heal the PTSD I had from that event. It was not often easy, but I was blessed with the best friends and family anyone could ask for. Relationships between acquaintances and friends alike became deep and life- bonding. I got to know my children and their spouses as adults and cherished friends.I found out I'm a lot stronger than I thought. I know myself now, my strengths and weaknesses, better than I ever have before. I learned that tomorrow is another day and that life is short,unpredictable,  and meant to be lived fully.

As most of you know, as I came out the other side of this time, I was blessed and graced to find love again, in a most unlikely place, with my first love, my high school/early college boyfriend. What we have discovered is new, wonderful and magic, made even more special by knowing each other as friends for all these years. We aren't the same "kids" we were...life has scarred us, but it makes the love all that much more sweet.

Today at school, several friends joked that tonight was my "last night" of independence, because Jon is due to arrive tomorrow afternoon, for good. No more tearful airport goodbyes, or counting the "sleeps" until we are together again.

So tomorrow I will stock my refrigerator with real food again and await his arrival that signifies the start of our life together, full of both the mundane and the sublime.

Yes. My life paused. And now it starts again.

And I am so ready.