Shock

Yesterday, I heard from my sister K. who I mentioned in an earlier post. We are keeping our promise to stay in touch. So at work yesterday, I checked my home email briefly (very briefly, if my boss ever reads this blog). A note from K. said 'Hi - are you there'? So I wrote her back that I was. About 15 minutes later, another email from Kath - this one containing a draft of an email she said she would be sending out shortly. In this email, she explained that she and her hubby had been having a difficult time for some time - and had decided to divorce. I couldn't believe it. Still can't really fathom it. When I first read that sentence, I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. I had to go back to the note she wrote before the draft - to be sure the email I was reading was from her. I sat at my desk shaking - because honestly, I just can't believe it. K. and her husband M. have been married since I was TWELVE YEARS OLD - 33 years. They were married in the livingroom of our house by an Arizona Supreme Court judge who is still a family friend. Their marriage ending is like some natural disaster in my head that I just can't get my psyche around. K. insists she is fine. She is moving out of their home this week into a tiny apartment. She says 'he says he doesn't love me anymore and doesn't want to be married anymore. He's very unhappy and I want him to be OK'. So she's moving on. Just like that. Though she said it's been coming for 3+ years. I asked her 'why didn't you say anything in Florida'. She said 'because nothing had been decided. We've been to therapy, he's being treated for depression - but he's not happy. So I'm done'.

It's sad. They were so incredibly in love. I mean really, really in love. Every morning for most of their married life, M. would make her a 'card' that he'd tape to her coffee mug. Little pictures and sayings - everyday for every occasion. K. has all of them in scrapbooks. Little works of art (M. is an artist) that show how much he loved her. EVERY DAY - without fail. Years and years of these tokens. When I asked her in Florida if he still did that, she said 'no'. And I teased her 'well that's it then, the bloom is definitely off the marriage'. Just joking. And she laughed. I had no idea....

Dad

My father-in-law died a couple weeks ago. We had a memorial service for him last weekend in Visalia, where he raised three kids. Let me tell you about Dad.

First, calling him Dad was always special to me. I was only 6 when my own dad died and my mom never remarried. I don't remember ever having anyone to call 'Dad'. So when I married, I asked my in-laws if it was OK to just call them Mom and Dad. It was. I think it bugged my mom a bit - how easy it was for me to call another woman 'Mom'. But calling my f-i-l Dad was so important to me -

Dad was a southern gentleman through and through. From Kentucky. Military man who retired as a Major and then worked for Tulare county and retired from there. His post-retirement job was caring for C., his wife. She had polio and was in a wheelchair. He attended to her every need. Devotedly and unfailingly every day for 40+ years. They were the ultimate example of 'in sickness and in health'. Caring for her was like breathing to him. It was what he did, who he was and what made him whole. When she died 5 years ago (5 months after my mom died), it left a hole in his soul that couldn't be filled - not by grandkids, or kids, or visits, or phonecalls. He missed her so much.

J. is a lot like his dad, I think. Few words. Thrifty (which is not the same as cheap). Loving and caring in a quiet, constant way. Proud. A true gentleman. J. gave a moving tribute to his dad during the service and it was so wonderful. We picture them as they are in a picture that hung on the wall by the kitchen - dancing cheek to cheek, madly in love, before Polio. So happy. A family favorite, that picture.

We miss you, Dad. Your grandsons miss you terribly - but they know you are with Mom in heaven dancing, and it helps.

Family

I returned late last night (well, early this morning, actually) from a whirlwind weekend in Florida. A memorial service for my Uncle Milt. The weekend was full of fun and family - centered around a memorial service for an amazing man. We toasted him at every opportunity - with everything from Florida wines (mango and key lime), wine, beer and Mojitos.

I hadn't been looking forward to the trip, honestly. Wanted to see everyone and be there, but I'm not that keen on flying and my 'schedule' being disrupted is always a challenge. It was a truly FUN weekend and I am so glad I went. My sister K. was there (from Ohio), as was my Aunt M. (from Massachusetts) (whom I'm named after). Also lots of cousins, their kids and family. We scattered Milt's ashes on the river, told stories, said prayers, cried, laughed and celebrated being family. So many stories and memories and shared histories. Remembering people we've lost and miss, remembering Milt, talking about our families futures (our kids). I stayed ON THE BEACH and listened to the surf every night and felt 'at home'. I can't wait to take J. and the kids there - I'd love to retire there. Or at least rent a place for a month or two and try it out. Lovely people, lovely sites, river and ocean practically next to each other.

My sister K. and I reconnected, which I needed. I've missed being in 'touch' with her. Our busy lives intervene and it's hard to write or call as much as we'd like. But we're going to try to keep in touch via email - even if it's just the same old 'boring daily details' of life. When we were planning our mom's 75th birthday party (K. in Arizona and me here), we emailed constantly and had so much fun in those months before the party. Sadly, Mom died 6 months later and K. and her husband moved to Ohio - and we lost touch. But we're back now - and I'm happy about that.

Family's a good thing. It's good to be reminded that you need them.

Oddities

I had a hysterectomy a few weeks ago. It's been a fairly easy recovery. No abdominal incision (they can take out your uterus via the vagina these days - who knew?) makes it very easy. Six weeks off is the standard - but that just seems wrong to me. So, I had planned to go back after 3 weeks. Only I was felled by a cold/flu that knocked me on my keister for a week. So I'm going back after 3 1/2 weeks.

Anyway, I entered the hospital on a Wednesday a coffee drinker. And I exited the hospital on Friday a non-coffee drinker. Not sure how or why that happened - but I have absolutely no desire for coffee. Can't stomach it, actually. Am wanting tea some mornings, but even that is sporadic. BUT, I do wake up wanting breakfast. And I am a 45 year die-hard 'I don't eat breakfast' person. But I suddenly am. A bowl of cereal or a piece of toast and a slice of cheese. Something. But NOT coffee. Strange. Could be related to the caffeine-withdrawal migraine I endured for THREE DAYS that made my body revolt and say 'Stop, no more!'. It was a miserable three days. And if I have essentially completed detox re: my coffee addiction, then it's a good thing. Now I just have to figure out what to do with the 12+ bottles of Torani Sugar Free Vanilla syrup in the garage. Vanilla Tea? Extra Vanilla-y Cokes?

Proposal

Today is the 16th anniversary of the day my wonderful husband J. asked me to be his wife. J. accomplished this feat as he does most things in his life - simply, straightforwardly and without a lot of fanfare. It wasn't by any stretch of the imagination a romantic proposal. No flowers. No music. No special surprises. It was all pretty expected, really. And that's OK. My husband is one of the sweetest, most kind, most reliable down to earth guys on the planet. He isn't complicated. He is a man of few words, but the words he chooses get the job done. So when he, over a sushi dinner at our favorite little Japanese place said simply 'There's something I've been meaning to ask you. Will you marry me?', I was surprised about the simplicity but knew he meant it. I said yes. Fast forward 16 years, 2 kids, a mortgage and life intervening, and we're still together and happy. Simple. That's the way we like it.

Happy anniversary, J. I love you!

HighSchool

My 'baby' is starting high school today. I am overwhelmed with these feelings of 'stop'. Just stop. Don't grow up. Stay a kid. Stay with me forever. Of course, I don't mean that. There are plenty of times when I can't WAIT for the kids to be grown and gone. But my heart says 'stop'. I am already starting to miss them. In four years, I'll be sending B. off to college - and then two years after that, H. will leave. And their entire growing up time will be over in what will seem (and does seem) like a split second.

They don't need us as much anymore. No more boo-boos to make better. They do need us for allowance and transportation - but that's about it. Other than that, we are the 'parental units' and are pretty much a PITA for them. They love us - no doubt about that. I know they do. And we adore them. But they are growing up - something that can't be stopped. Nor should it be. I just wish I had known when they were small how fast it would go by. I would have taken more pictures. I would have played with them more.

B. survived his first day. He said he ate lunch on a bench near his locker. He was worried he would 'miss' his class so he stayed near to where he needed to be in case he was supposed to be there. Makes sense. Of course, as his mother, I think 'you can't eat lunch by yourself everyday. GO to the cafeteria. Make friends. Don't be a loner'. I'm actually fine with him being a loner. I just don't want him to be lonely. I see myself being interviewed years from now saying 'well, we thought he was normal until he started eating lunch by himself every day. That was the first sign'.

And need I remind you, good reader, it's only his FIRST DAY of high school. This is going to be a long year. I'll be exhausted from all my 'fretting' by the time he hits his senior year. College ought to be a real trip/treat.

Beginnings

B. (my oldest - 14 1/2) is starting high school next week. NEXT WEEK. When did this happen, people? Really - when?

I am realizing more and more everyday that now, my job as a mom is to LET GO. That's pretty hard to do - and REALLY hard to do 'cuz I tend to want to control things. I'm a big believer in thinking things through, several times; anticipating consequences and/or issues and thinking through how I'll handle them. B. is (I assume) a typical teen boy - he lives in the moment; frets about little (except his current obsession w/ anyplace we're eating out must have rootbeer as a beverage selection or he's not interested in eating there). I, on the other hand, am a worrier...and a long time, very skilled worrier at that. I don't sleep very well. Does that surprise you?

Anyway, B. went to his high school orientation this week. Alone. Like the campus I work at (community college), the students at his high school do the orientation for new students. B. didn't ask a lot of questions. Or pay attention to some obvious issues that needed to be asked. For example, Period 4 on the schedule is actually FOUR periods - 4A, early lunch, 4B, late lunch. Our dialog about this issue went something like this:

Me: So when is your lunch period and when is your class period?
B: Huh?
Me: There are two lunch times and two class times for period 4. So when is your class time and when is your lunch time?
B: They didn't talk about that.
Me: (perplexed 'cuz I'm reasonably sure they must have mentioned it) Hmmm. Guess we'll add that to the list of things we ask.

(J. called the school the next day and it turns out, they don't tell the kids which lunch or class period until the very first day when the figure out how many bodies are on which side of the campus at any given time. Amazing, isn't it?)

B.'s other keen observation about orientation was his amazement at waiting in line 2 1/2 hours to register for classes and get his class schedule. My response was 'get used to it'. (I work at a college and lines are a fact of life).

So, B.will be on his own in a school clear across town (unlike his grade school which is 2 blocks from our house). He will ride a school bus to and from most days -but during marching band (football season), we are still trying to figure out how to get him home. At the moment, he may walk the three blocks to the public library and study there until we can pick him up. Or, he'll catch a ride home w/ a fellow band mate or friend who's there for soccer. There's a lot of logistics still to work out. All will be solved when B. can drive - and I can't believe I'm about to say this - but I'll be glad when we can get him someway to get himself to and from. THEN, I'll REEEAALLLLYYYY have to work on letting go. Him behind the wheel of a moving vehicle is a very scary thought. He can't even put Nestle Quick powder in a glass without the powder (and often times the milk) getting everywhere. How's he going to DRIVE?

LET GO. LET GO. I just keep repeating that mantra and anticipate continuing that exercise for many, MANY years to come.