Not the movie starring Kate Beckinsale...

I  love to write blog posts. 

Really, I do.

So why don't I post more often these days? It is because of a natural phenomenon called "The Last Days of School". Every day we are handed yet another long and detailed list of What Must Be Done Right Now to finalize the year via paperwork.

As one teacher recently commented, "I could easily get this job done if it weren't for all these students hanging out in my room!" Irony? Much.

With my few free brain cells, I think about what I'll do this summer vacation. Which begins after SEVEN MORE SCHOOL DAYS. (I enjoyed that. A lot.)

I have a friend who always prays for serendipities when she is on vacation. The definition of "serendipity" is "making fortunate discoveries by accident". (Note: this is not like finding out Hobby Lobby already has its Christmas wreaths out in May. 'Cause nothing says Ho-Ho-Holiday like fake greenery seven months before it is needed.) 

Where was I? Oh, yes: my friend and prayers for serendipities. She prays, and then she actively looks for them. Like a trip to Santa Fe a few weeks ago where it snowed every day. In April. She loves snow. Her non-snow-liking friends turned to her and said, "This is because of you, isn't it?" They're used to her fortunate discoveries.

I've  started looking for those serendipities in my life. You might remember my luggage was sent to Denver as I arrived in Baltimore in March. (Found here.) We had seven hours to kill in that town as my luggage was rerouted. We asked the lady at the information booth for a good local restaurant, and she recommended the G&M Restaurant for crabcakes. Cakes made with lumps of crab the size of a golf ball. Mouth watering-ly amazing. Even more amazing? Finding them recently listed in a travel magazine by Adam Richman (of Man vs. Food fame on the Travel Channel) as one of his favorite foods and restaurants in America. We had enjoyed a serendipity of the highest proportions, apparently.

This weekend, I find myself praying and looking for a "fortunate discovery by accident" for Monday. It would have been D's and my wedding anniversary. I began this journey of grief thinking that holidays would not really get to me. They were just dates on a calendar, right?There should be a 12-step program for people as naive as I was: "Hello. My name is R and I was in complete denial about loss over the holidays and special occasions." 

I've found if I make plans for those days, I'm not as likely to end up in a fetal position in a dark room. Just kidding. I usually leave the lights on.

 So, I'm making plans. And hoping Loyal Sister's sinus infection is cleared up, so a long talk over Blooming Onions makes the calendar.

And as a passenger on a planet that spun out of my control over a year ago, I'm hoping Monday's post contains happy memories and unexpected happiness.

The Trip Through Happyville Continues

Graduation weekend is officially over, and Young Son has begun his  two-week journey through the midwest and up the eastern coast. It is a very loosely designed itinerary: he had a ticket to Chicago and a ticket home from Portland, Maine in a few weeks. The traveling in between? Well, have you seen the movies "Planes, Trains and Automobiles"? He told me, and I quote, "Oh, Mom. I'll figure it out as I go." And he will. I'm sure he'll have many great stories to tell when he returns with his one backpack of belongings. Which would be just about big enough to carry my shoes for the trip. Young Son's philosophy is: travel light, hang loose and all will turn out OK. And you know what? It does turn out well for him. He always lands on his feet. I've learned to filter my unsolicited, yet "helpful" advice, and pray harder. Together, we've become a supportive team.

Another Happy Turn: Married Daughter is getting to stay with me for a few more days and I don't have to share her with anyone. We've shopped (where she has talked me into shoes I'd never have bought on my own) and  attended movies (where she patiently listened to my whispered explanations that the characters in "Letters to Juliet" played  Lancelot and Guinevere in the movie "Camelot", and are married in real life. She whispered back she never saw "Camelot".  I was shocked beyond belief that a daughter growing up in my home never saw my second-favorite (behind "Gone With the Wind") movie. I always stop  watching when the kingdom of Camelot begins it's demise. I'd rather remember , as the song says, "Don't let it be forgot, that once there was a spot, for one brief and shining moment that was known as Camelot". And now I have digressed you to death, and you will need a nap to finish this post. I'll wait.)

So, anyhoo...Married  Daughter and I have done a lot of talking about how I am doing these days. I never mind being asked that, because it makes me feel like people are still remembering and thinking about Dave, too. I don't want every thought or mention of him to  disappear just because someone thinks the "So, how are you doing...really?" question makes me feel uncomfortable or sad. The good news is, I've discovered through these long mother/daughter talks is that I am doing much better. Much better, indeed. I think the Scale O' Grief has tipped to favor the Happy Side. Old memories seem sweeter, appreciation for the past is emerging to overshadow loss, and almost all the stories we share about D leave us laughing. Ten months of processing must be successful in many areas. (If you are interested, I found my daughter's version of this trip on her blog found here.)
Before I sign off (because The  Monument Cafe in Georgetown, Texas is calling out with its glorious gingerbread pancakes), I have to share another layer of Joy. The beautiful bride seen above was in my  third and fourth grade class, lo those many years ago. We've kept up with each other over the years, because we share a Mutual Admiration Society for each other. Well, S married her life's love, B, on Saturday wearing the veil her mother wore 29 years ago. Can I say it again? Watching all these children grow up well in the Lord is one of the best parts of life, and I look forward to more and more of it. Weddings. Showers. Babies. Graduations. Loving the marking of the milestones.

S and B are shown leaving the church on their way to their new future. B is a pilot, so guests were given blue pieces of paper to fashion airplanes. We launched the paper planes at the glowing couple  as they slipped away to their honeymoon. (Beats rice or birdseed for creativity. Young brides, you ever amaze me with your whimsical ideas and sense of fun.)

And I end today with the beauty and healing found in time.

"He has made everything beautiful in his time.

He has placed eternity in our hearts..." (Ecc. 3:11)

Amidst all this happiness (and did I mention there are only 10 more days in The Kingdom of First Grade?), I'm believing that spring is making all things new. Amen.

This Family Deserves a Party

And so, we begin the time of celebrating C's graduation from college with gingerbread pancakes. All is right with the world; let the celebration begin!
Married Daughter and Young Son-in-law have traveled from Pennsylvania to share the joy in this momentous occasion. Because everything is more fun surrounded by family.
Of course, this is Texas, so Young Son-in-law takes the prerequisite shots of cows in wildflower-filled pastures.
Three generations together on The Day to watch C graduate. Even the monsoon outside did not dampen our spirits. Though the thunder did make it difficult to hear at times.
And...here he comes. Cleans up quiet well.
An amazing thing I discovered: in a sea of identically dressed soon-to-be-graduates, every mother can quickly find her own child.
The joy filling the auditorium was unmistakable. A dad near me stood throughout the ceremony with tears streaming down his face. These were all our children that day, because we've been their "village". (But I'm the most proud of the one crossing the stage in this picture!)

Fun Fact to Know and Learn: Former graduates from C's college are Beth Moore, George Strait and Lyndon Baines Johnson.
One of C's junior high teachers got her three little ones out in the rain to watch him graduate. I'm a teacher, so I understand how former students leave their handprints on our hearts. (Thanks for coming, brave former teacher Ms. G!)
I managed to run across C and his girlfriend in the parking lot afterwords.  The ark is floating by to the left of us.
Family and friends later traveled from San Marcos to Austin for a Celebratory Lunch. What rain? What high wind? We were so happy we hardly noticed.
Back to my house for dessert. Where I had removed painting tarps from the front rooms. We all wore pictures of C from his first day of kindergarten, where I was his teacher. Because wasn't that just yesterday? (And parents of my first grade students: hold your little ones tightly, because you'll be watching them graduate faster than you can possibly imagine.)
Aunt and Uncle showed up to celebrate their role as C's mentors and biggest fans.
And more pictures of Young Son with Proud Mom. D was fighting cancer all through C's high school and college years, but C pressed on and graduated. Put himself through. And the world will be a better place for what C will use his degree for in the future.
You have probably figured out you may as well move along, nothing here for you today, if you are not in the mood for The Happy Family Photographs. Blogs are kind of like home movies of the olden days. Except you are a willing audience.

Older sister came in state to support her brother in his special accomplishment. The three of us have traveled a long journey together. But these two? They've been wonderful companions on this road of life.
And, last picture (I promise!) of my closest high school friend A, with her husband and son WHO MARRIED MY DAUGHTER. (If you've read this blog more than once, you've probably seen those words at least 300 times. Because it still brings me The Happy every time I think about my daughter married to her son.)

Future plans for Young Son? A two-week road trip to Indiana, Pennsylvania, Boston, New York, Maine...and anywhere else his heart desires on the road. Because his future is wide open now.

Congratulations, C. I'm so very proud of you. YBM

By the Numbers

15 more days of school.

3 1/2 days I will be off, because in

3 days my son will graduate from college!!!

1 day until Daughter and Son-in-law fly in from Pennsylvania.

0 room for sadness right now:

1 family that deserves a party after the year we've had.

Friday Nights

If Dave were still here, I know exactly what we would have done tonight. Because it was what we did every Friday night. We'd eat at the local Mexican food restaurant (where he would skip chips and salsa (not me) to eat vegetarian (again: not me) ). Then, we'd cross the parking lot for a quick swing through Barnes and Noble for my end-of-the-teaching-week mindless pleasure: People magazine. Dave was nothing if not a creature of habit. (Guess I was, too, but it was easy to pin it on him.) The best part? Making it home for our favorite TV show: "Friday Night Lights".

You can imagine how I looked forward to the season premiere of "FNL" tonight. Because I could almost see  him sitting in his chair, leaning forward and enjoying every second of it. The show is filmed in our area, so we'd make a game of identifying the different locations we recognized. He would have especially enjoyed the fact that a few people we know (through degrees of separation) are appearing on the show this season. Dillon, Texas, you have been missed. (And seeing HEB brand foods on the Riggins' dinner table? Nice touch.)

My joy was not even diminished by the yard men showing up at 7:48 pm (hello, Daylight Savings Time!) right as East Dillon's first season game began. With the TV's volume set at 34, I could hear (almost) everything Coach Taylor was saying.  But East Dillion lost. Badly. 

It is early in this season of life, and things will improve. Because time heals wounds and memories. And sometimes we look back and remember even the hard times fondly. And though we miss the way things were,  a changed life still has wonderful surprises ahead. 

And obviously my mind wandered out of Dillon about a paragraph ago. But the hard-earned wisdom I'm sharing is free, and it still applies. 

And I'm glad to know I can go forward with old memories and find them surprisingly happy.

Lifting the Veil

Well. After that last little post, maybe it is time for me to call the "waaaaaaa-mbulance", as my first graders say. Pitiful! Sometime when I am at an emotional spike, my filter (and "Publish Post" button) are not fully engaged.

So, now we will be discussing The Progress in this journey through grief. I had a student's dad a few years ago tell me he admired my use of bullets in my classroom newsletters: concise and to the point information. He was a professor at UT, so I'm guessing that was a huge compliment. For your viewing pleasure today? Bullets.

• My ability to hold information in my brain is improving. I was able to finish a complete book, and have begun a new one. And if you give me a little time, I might even remember the title.
• I have cancelled Netflix after having two DVDs sit untouched for three weeks. This is in marked contrast to the past several months when I worked my way through six seasons of Ally McBeal. A friend had suggested if  I watched something with a continuing plotline, maybe I could keep up. Since I don't watch "Lost", "America's Top Model" or "Biggest Loser", a completed, cancelled series fit the bill. (And Donnie Osmond winning "Dancing With the Stars" last fall? Well, that tracked as well.)
• I removed plastic tarps from one bedroom to begin preparations for The Graduation next week. I'll be having overnight guests, and they will have to be able to breathe while they sleep.
• I was so inspired, the next night I removed tarps from the dining room. If I hurry, I may actually eat a home-cooked meal at a table this year.
• I could continue in my tarp de force,  but the clean up produced another bullet:
• There is a house under all the dust produced by the continuing removal of popcorn ceilings throughout the house. I had forgotten what it looked like. And I love it very much.

You see, bullets aside, my goal has been to finish the remodel of our home in honor of D. And as it slowly emerges, I realize that a Happier Me is also coming forward. Nine months of grief seems to be giving birth to happier memories when I sort through D's possessions.

It's been easier to let sleeping tarps lie, and cover everything in the house. Out of sight, out of mind and all that. But cleaning up is helping me see things with new eyes. Like actually having the energy to clean again. 

When Married Daughter and her husband  come for graduation next week, it will be the first trip in over three years that didn't involve surgeries, hospital visits or a funeral. We can concentrate on just The Happy this time. But we do wish D was here to share it with us.

Pain endures through the night, but a shout of joy comes in the morning.

And it is not muffled by plastic tarps.

All Rolled Into One

Long time, no blog. There are several very good reasons for this. 

Let's start with The Happy. Young Son is graduating from college next week and there are many things that have to be finished before that joyous occasion arrives: plastic removed from every room in the house (even though the painters are (still) not finished), guest rooms prepared for Married Daughter and Son-in-law who are flying in from Pennsylvania, and invitations mailed. (Yes, we are in somewhat of a time crunch here, due to many circumstances beyond our control.) D's cancer extended throughout Young Son's high school and college years. He has worked hard to put himself through and will be exiting with a degree in English/Mass Communications. This is a family seriously in need of a celebration and Young Son has given us the perfect venue.

Then, there is The Crazy. I am a first grade teacher. There are 20 days of school left. You do the math. Every year at this time I always think we should be given hazardous duty pay, like when the military is deployed to the most dangerous and difficult locations. The good news is: I am "looping" with my students, and will have this same wonderful bunch as second graders next year. Can't wait. After I have a summer off to recover from the month of May.

And last? There is The Unthinkable. I've finally stumbled upon the anniversary of dates from last year when D was told his life would only last a few more months. I never thought I'd be the person who clicked off the dates in my head, yet here I am: Last year on Mother's Day weekend, we celebrated with Young Son and his girlfriend on Saturday, and other family members on Sunday. We went home to buy plane tickets online to Seattle (to visit D's youngest daughter) and Las Vegas (to see Barry Manilow, before he pulled that little cancellation shenanigan). "Let's wait until after my MRI results next week", D said. That Wednesday he woke me up in the middle of the night to take him to the emergency room with pain too difficult to manage at home. Followed by a biopsy. And a doctor's visit to hear: one to three months at best.

I cannot remember exactly what we said as we sat in the car trying to process The News. I do remember going to a restaurant and deciding how best to tell the kids. And boxing up our untouched food. I do remember going in before dawn to tell my principal I'd be missing the last week of school for a final hospital visit to drain D's lungs. I do remember saying good-bye to Young Son as he left for his summer study abroad in Costa Rica, and making contingency plans in case he should need to come home quickly. (He did.)

And the memories of a time I was numbed to a year ago continue to roll over me, with a sadness so profound I sometimes find it difficult to breathe. It is not the brittle-as-broken-glass feeling I experienced soon after D's death. It is more like a weighty shroud descending over me. Just heavy and inescapable. 

I feel like if I can just get past July 13, the date of the ultimate loss, I can stop making markers in my mind. By then I will have passed every holiday, birthday and anniversary without D. Even as I'm trying to convince myself of this, I stumble upon an article that says the second year is even harder for a widow because there is no more denial to hide behind. Drat. Not sure if I'm buying a ticket to that dance.

One thing they kept asking in my grief class: is it possible for joy and pain to co-exist? Well, yes. But I'm looking for the day when it's the joy that causes the bubble to tilt off plumb.