The hummingbirds are darting in and out of all the flowers and plants, enjoying a bit of breakfast as they go. The squirrels are running through the branches above causing a special chaos of their own, morning calisthenics I guess. All the birds are slowing waking, they are singing and talking amongst themselves. And I find myself loathe to go inside. I want to enjoy it for as long as I can. The soft breeze carrying the sounds to me is refreshing, balancing, healing.
The neighborhood is still silent, kids are sleeping in, yard crews haven't started working yet. There is only the occasional sound of a car passing by. I am definitely in my happy place.
So many things are grabbing my attention lately. Forcing me to pause, reflect, reconsider ideals and beliefs. Making me reflect on life as a whole. I'm still piecing so much of it together. My thoughts are still flitting here and there.
I am sure I won't post this today, I am finding I need time to process what I am writing. Sometimes they linger for days or weeks now. While I think through my thoughts, my ideas, my hopes and plans. I am finding a comfort in slowing down to a crawl, to completely leaving a rat race I never wanted to be a part of.
If I could I would move out to the country. I always wanted to be disconnected, too bad I didn't realize it when I was younger. At this point, it's not really feasible. Hubs and I are getting older. I will be 61 in a few short weeks, something that seems absurd if you want to know the truth. Hubs is already 74. Moving at this point is not a wise choice, the city holds things we need. Beau needs access to emergency vet services and not ones that are an hour away. If he gets stuck in a cluster seizure it could kill him before we were able to get him to a vet. We simply need to be responsible. Besides, we have a beautiful home, tucked into a beautiful quiet spot. But a girl can dream.
That being the case, we are finding more and more ways to step out of the insanity. We are creating our own little countryside home within the confines of an HOA. Wow, if that isn't an oxymoron of a statement. But it's the little things that create a bigger thing. I long for a sense of community. Something that you can't really find in these times. I long for time with people I trust and care about. When our friends come to dinner or to spend time together it is so refreshing and soul healing.
I am pondering so hard on a podcast I listened to while mowing the lawn. I don't remember it word for word. I don't have to, the message was loud and clear. It was in response to the reactions many to Lindsay Graham's death. But it could have been about anyone. It was the synopsis of a book or paper written by a funeral home owner.
It's been stuck in my brain on auto-replay since I heard it. He was talking about the 5 things he hears over and over at funerals. The things people say in front of him, because he is basically invisible in those trying times. I will probably get these wrong, and the order is definitely going to be wonky. But in a nutshell... 1) I love you, 2) how will I survive without you, 3) Please don't leave me, 4) I thought we had more time, 5) I should have called.
Wow, just wow. He said it doesn't matter how rich or poor, how beloved or alone the person was, those five things are always said by someone as they visit someone that has passed on.
The same day I heard this, I found out that one of my second cousins had passed away that day. I didn't know him well, I haven't lived in Pennsylvania since I was very, very young and then only briefly. I slightly remember him from our visits home, but those are a blur. I saw him about 10 years ago down at my mom's house, but the visit is vague and I was focused more on my great uncle and my uncle whom I adore. What I do remember is that I have gotten a text from him every holiday since that visit. Nothing fancy, just a Happy this or that I hope your family is well. Most of the time I responded the same way. I can't promise that I always did, because I struggle with doing that when I get a bunch of them. I'm sure I forget folks often.
I told you I wouldn't finish this, time got away from me and I needed to still think on it.
Today, as I was tearing apart my beloved KitchenAid mixer the song "Leader of the Band" kept playing through my mind. I have never torn apart a stand mixer before, but I am cheap and I do not believe in a no win scenario. I was going to fix that baby if it killed me! Here it is 3 hours later, and I just finished cleaning up. My mixer is ready for another couple decades of abuse, although I do believe I will be changing the grease a lot sooner next time!
I literally almost threw up when I opened that baby up! I have rebuilt and pampered 70 year old sewing machines that haven't been taken care of. So you can imagine how horrible it was. I text my sweet Hubs the picture as I started and asked if he believed in miracles, because that is all that was keeping her working I assure you.
Let's go back to that song. My Dad and I loved each other deeply, many times my mom has told me that I am very much like him. She's probably right, because boy oh boy could we lock horns. We could fight like pro-boxers, shoot maybe MMA, the scars run very deep. I'm sure for both of us. He's been gone for a good minute now. Thankfully, I don't retain those kind of memories, I know the day but the year? Who knows. In my world gone is gone. It still hurts, marking time doesn't change that.
Birthday anyone? 
Pretty sure it's the first time I saw him. 
Nothing like a trip to IHOP!
My Dad was a firm believer that we needed to learn any and everything. Guess that is where I got it. He was bullheaded and didn't back down from a challenge. I was thanking him as I worked on my mixer, for all the times he insisted that I learn basic electronics, for his insistence that we all got a basic knowledge or motors and engines. I'm sure there are many lessons that he taught me that I don't consciously remember. But as I pulled the motor brushing's and checked them I could hear his voice in my head. With each screw I heard him reminding me to lay them out in the order I would need to return them.
My Dad was not a musician that I can remember. He loved music and shared it with us. Saturday dance parties were often happening, and no I didn't inherit the dancing skill at all, at least not if it didn't pertain to ballet... But this section of that song has always been the part that plays in my head and heart when I think of my Dad.
"I thank you for the music and your stories of the road. I thank you for the freedom when it came my time to go. I thank you for the kindness and the times when you got tough. And Papa, I don't think I said I love you near enough..."
My Dad and I shared a love of adventure and experiencing all that life has to offer. I remember so many times he forced us girls to experience places, things, history and life in general making memories along the way. I say forced, because it wasn't negotiable, you participated. But it wasn't forced, because I loved it all. Until it was time to learn things like electric and motors. I was terrified. Although, I did try to model that for my kids as well. Although, I didn't force things like electric and motors...
My Dad understood when I decided I was grown and ready to step out. He wasn't happy, but he understood. He left me a path home, although I didn't know it at the time. And he definitely let you know you had disappointed him and he could walk away cold. I know I inherited that, although I try to control it. I have at least 7 letters disowning me, and even more notes. I didn't keep them all. But some still remain.
One of my favorite pictures
The last line, is the one that forever haunts me. Did I tell him how much I loved him enough? When he passed I was busy making a "career" - what a freaking joke. I gave up precious time for people that wouldn't pour water on me if I was on fire. But... I knew my dad was proud that I was accomplishing so much.
I have tried very hard, since his passing to be present with the people I love, that lesson was painful and cut deeply. I am not a great friend, I get lost in projects, ideas, dreams... and I do forget to make the calls. I am terrible at checking in. The people that matter to me are always in my thoughts, I just struggle to intrude in their lives.
I often struggle where my children and grand children are concerned. Walking the line between being intrusive and present. I pray they know that they are cherished and I am here for them while letting them live their best lives.
I keep reflecting on the things that man shared. I don't want to say those words to the people that matter in my life when the clock runs out. I don't want to be haunted by worry that I didn't say I love you enough. I don't want to let people wonder if they matter to me or if they crossed my mind. And I never want to wonder what I would do without them. If and when any of the loves in my life pass before me, I want that space to be filled with incredible memories, not the questions I have with my Dad. I want the memories to not be tinged with regret. And I want to be thankful for the gifts given, the knowledge, the joy, the bad stuff can linger in the background. It's not a rich life without some bumps.
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| One of my absolute favorites of my two favorite men! |
Okay, this has been way too deep and I have a snigglet in my brain now... time to listen to a song, think about my Dad for a moment longer and get busy. I have things to do...
much love,
b
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