In Patti Digh's book 37 Days, she encourages us to live life more aware, remember the little things, keep your heart open. The first step being Intensity - Say Yes. She writes, "It is Stuff that keeps us from participating fully, from saying yes." We get too bogged down in the details - the what ifs, the stuff that clutters our life to the point of suffocation sometimes.
She encourages us to live more freely - without judgement of ourselves or others. "We're fools whether we dance or not, so we might as well dance." - Japanese Proverb We need to "practice being curious, not judgemental."
This got me thinking. I'm a pretty eclectic person. I don't find judging others to be a pleasant or enriching activity, so I don't do it often (and I don't want to do it at all - but sometimes it happens). I'm sure that alot of people, who don't know me, might judge me for wearing my pajamas (comfy pants and sometimes my ladybug slippers) to the grocery store. Some people might judge me because I don't feel the need to wear makeup 24/7 (if I wear it at all its usually for a special occasion - so watch for it :).)
For instance, I just recently bought the new New Kids on The Block CD. I loves it! My son and I have listened to it for the last few days, dancing in our car - dancing around the house. It makes me smile. When I told my youngest sister that I bought it and I was rocking out to it, her response was, "Haha, You would." For whatever reason, that response made me smile and laugh. It made me happy to know that my sillyness and quirks are recognized and appreciated and yes, even laughed at.
There is a saying, "You laugh because I'm different. I laugh because you are all the same." That pretty much sums up my thoughts about it. I take pride in being different. I take pride in the fact that I really don't care what other's think of my preferences and quirks. Take me or leave me; but I am who I am. Those that understand and appreciate that are rewarded with a caring, loving and compassionate friend.
Another part of saying yes is finding wonder and happiness in the oddest of places. Digh calls this "Carry a Small Grape". I have my own version of a small grape. January of this year I was finally able to meet, in person, a wonderful woman who I'd built an online friendship with for about a year and a half. I'll call her Eeyore :) (I would call her Grumpy, another one of her favorites, but deep down I know she is just a flower ready to bloom). Anyway, I met her at the hotel she was staying at in Richmond, VA. I was going to be her date for her office Holiday party.
Seeing her for the first time and that first hug, was like I'd known this woman all my life. It wasn't awkward at all. We got signed in and went up to our room. We had been exchanging gifts for each other and the kids for a while at this point, but she had some leftover gifts for me. She ended up giving me a few books, a ladybug bag (loved it!), and some trinkets.
One of those trinkets was a small round pewter-looking disc. On one side was a red heart. On the other side the words "Thinking of You". Of all the gifts she gave me - that one touched me the most. I still carry it with me everywhere. When I'm sad - I just look at it and know that at any given time, at least one person is thinking of me and it makes me feel better.
The night couldn't have ended any better - we came back to the room, got into our comfy jammies, glasses on and read in bed. We were like two women 3x our actual age; but it was comfortable. There weren't any need for words. We were doing what we'd always talked about doing all those months before that would make us happy. Just being near each other - reading our books. I couldn't have imagined a better end to the perfect first face-to-face meeting.
Another facet of saying yes is that life is too short to always be safe. After all "the death rate for people who play it safe and for the people who live boldly is the same: 100 percent." How true is that?! That one line said it all. We sometimes, as a culture, are so worried about the next thing, that we can't enjoy the here and now. We shouldn't just be living life - we should be making choices that make the journey memorable. We get so wrapped up in successes or the lack thereof, that we forget to celebrate the little things.
When my son was born, we used to have monthly birthday parties for him. I think at times my husband felt it was a bit excessive; but this was my first child (who knows maybe my only child). I wanted to celebrate the little achievements. As parents, sometimes I think we like to highlight a job well done only when its done to perfection. What about when your child is struggling. Can we not celebrate their tenacity to learn and master something that may not come as easy to them as others?
Saying yes also means that we take back control of our happiness. Many times we put our happiness in the hands of others - "we give up our power to the very people that took it from us in the first place." Why do we do this? I know this is more common then any of us care to admit, but why or rather how do we get to that point? Ghandi said, "Nobody can hurt you without your permission." If we stop giving away our power, if we stop giving others license to hurt us - it will stop happening and we will become more empowered. Who knows what we could achieve then!
As children, we don't have the knowledge of the world that makes us feel like we are limited. Children feel they can do anything - and they can. Why is this taken from us as adults? We somehow learn to downplay our strengths, even if they aren't perfected. What we have to realize is we are perfect, whether its by the world's standards or not, simply because we are individuals.
So far this book has given me a lot to think about. Its also prompted me to start a project I've wanted to start since my son was born, which has resulted in my other blog under my profile called "Letters to my Son". From here on out, any entry tagged "37 days" will address my thoughts on what I've read along with excerpts from the book itself.
My diary is called "Constantly Evolving" for a reason - I never want to be static or stagnant in my life. I always want to be learning and growing and evolving into the best person I can be. Life isn't a destination, after all - its a journey!
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
My first glimpse of Love
My father loved my mother. He had not had great relationships up to the point of meeting my mother, but my Elvis-look-alike father met my hot momma and they got married. They had my two sisters and I and I won't lie and say everyday was perfect - but I remember more of the good then the bad (though they both shaped who I am today). My father always thought of my mother first. If she was not feeling well - he would make sure that we knew so that we could let her rest. Sometimes he would make dinner (watered down spaghetti) so that mom didn't have to make dinner when she got home from work.
Sometimes, when he was feeling silly, he would smack her butt or hug and kiss her in the kitchen. One of my more humorous memories of my mom and dad is when we were living in the duplex in Columbia. My dad was tickling my mother on the bed and she was screaming and laughing. She begged him to stop and he didn't listen - so she scratched his hand - HARD! From that day on, he had about and inch and a half scar on his left hand. He would go on and on about how mom attacked him and that was his battle scar. They were able to be silly.
Sure they had their more unhappy moments - who doesn't, but even after getting through nearly 33 years of marriage - mom was still his first priority. He always made their anniversary special - even moreso, once most of us were out of the house. On their 30th anniversary I believe, they finally took out their cake topper - my dad even tasted the old thing. His marriage to my mom is what made him happy.
He taught me the importance of family. He taught me that if I only had one good friend, I was blessed. He made sure we had memories that we could share with our children. He held our hand, even as teenagers and we didn't want to be seen holding our dad's hand. When my father loved - he did so intensely. We are alike in that way.
I know that at times it can be extremely lonely without dad, but if we would only just take a minute to think back to the good times - the good lessons he taught us - I think our hearts would feel a little warmer and the ache wouldn't be as pronounced. Mom, dad loves you very much and even if he can't physically be here, I still feel him around us. He lives in each one of his daughters - and even moreso at times in his grandson.
Sometimes, when he was feeling silly, he would smack her butt or hug and kiss her in the kitchen. One of my more humorous memories of my mom and dad is when we were living in the duplex in Columbia. My dad was tickling my mother on the bed and she was screaming and laughing. She begged him to stop and he didn't listen - so she scratched his hand - HARD! From that day on, he had about and inch and a half scar on his left hand. He would go on and on about how mom attacked him and that was his battle scar. They were able to be silly.
Sure they had their more unhappy moments - who doesn't, but even after getting through nearly 33 years of marriage - mom was still his first priority. He always made their anniversary special - even moreso, once most of us were out of the house. On their 30th anniversary I believe, they finally took out their cake topper - my dad even tasted the old thing. His marriage to my mom is what made him happy.
He taught me the importance of family. He taught me that if I only had one good friend, I was blessed. He made sure we had memories that we could share with our children. He held our hand, even as teenagers and we didn't want to be seen holding our dad's hand. When my father loved - he did so intensely. We are alike in that way.
I know that at times it can be extremely lonely without dad, but if we would only just take a minute to think back to the good times - the good lessons he taught us - I think our hearts would feel a little warmer and the ache wouldn't be as pronounced. Mom, dad loves you very much and even if he can't physically be here, I still feel him around us. He lives in each one of his daughters - and even moreso at times in his grandson.
Monday, October 27, 2008
View Dad's Memorial Page
One really unique and wonderful thing that the funeral home did for our family was create a video memory of our father for us. I watched it numerous times a day those first few months. Now I watch it every other day, and most times can get through it without crying. Let me know what you think.
End of Traditions?
I can't believe its been over a month since I posted here. I've felt like a chicken with its head cut off - not really sure what direction I'm going, or where I'm trying to get to. I've been concerned about my youngest sister and my mom. Sometimes I forget to think about me. A couple things have hit me the wrong way lately and I'm still trying to figure out how to deal with it.
I suggested to my Nana the other day, that we should go to one of our favorite resturaunts before her knee replacement surgery. I asked her if she would want to go to Cozy's. She said "No, it was too far to go now." Then my other sister whispered, "I don't think we've been there since dad passed away. Have we?" The whole thing just made me want to scream. Its as if the traditions we've had for the last 30 years have now been thrown out the window, or we now feel like we need to talk in hushed tones about dad and the things that remind us of him. Who cares if we haven't been since dad passed? Why should that stop us from going now? He wouldn't have wanted us to just stop everything that we've always done, since many of those traditions he helped create.
We also haven't set foot in Lancaster, PA in a few years - namely, Willow Valley. I asked last year if we could go as a family - no one seemed to be on board. We have spent every summer there for the last 25+ years. Why should that change because it would remind us of dad? Isn't that a good thing?! I guess I'm falling prey to the "oldest mentality" that my father and I both seemed to share. We want to keep things together - keep family close - create memories together - carry on traditions. Yet, no one seems ready or able to get on board with me. Its just frustrating and sad to me.
I know we all grieve our own ways. There is no time limit on grief; but I know for a fact that dad would NOT have wanted us to feel like we couldn't be happy anymore. He would want us to do the things we've always done as a family - and remember him! I feel like, sometimes, we are just supposed to forget. No one seems to want to share good times, good memories - everything is hush, hush. He wasn't part of the mob - he didn't die under mysterious or shameful circumstances. He had cancer. He fought hard; but this time we all lost.
I am so tired of feeling like my family feels like they are ashamed of their grief. My family, as a whole, are not big talkers; but I think that is exactly what we need in order to get through these awful times with our sanity somewhat intact. We are not all fragile pieces of china. We shouldn't be afraid to talk about things - for fear of someone not being able to handle it. If they can't handle it, they can voice it; but that doesn't mean that others can't discuss things. I feel like my mom is very sad, maybe even feeling alone and I don't really know how or if she would want me to help. Mom is a fairly private person, and I can appreciate that, but we are family. We should be able to call each other and say, "you know what, this really sucks! I'm pretty angry!" Or whatever he/she wants to say about it. There are no censors here! There shouldn't be anyway.
I don't know - it just hurts and it hits me at more odd times then others. The final straw was this afternoon. I looked inside the trunk of my car, that had been at my mom's for months. I was going to take some things to goodwill and thought I might have had some things in the trunk ready to take before. When I opened it, I saw bags, labeled - all dad's things. I wanted to scream. Not because I felt mom shouldn't have cleaned out her closet; but more because I didn't want to give away these things. I just shut the trunk - I will go through bags this week and pull out things I want to keep. I hope some of them still smell like him.
The feeling was similar to what I felt when mom finally was able to disconnect dad's cellphone. I had been calling my dad's phone nearly every other day, just to hear his voice. One day I called it and got a recording about the phone number being disconnected. I cursed, I screamed, I cried. I just wanted him back. In my memory, I can still hear the goofy message he left me on my birthday the year before he passed. He sang 'Happy Birthday' and told me he loved me and was proud of me. A couple years before that, on Valentine's Day, he came to my work and brought me a dozen red roses.
Why...I don't think I will ever understand why he isn't still here; but I will be damned if I stop talking about him. Remembering him. Loving him and wanting to keep the traditions going.
I suggested to my Nana the other day, that we should go to one of our favorite resturaunts before her knee replacement surgery. I asked her if she would want to go to Cozy's. She said "No, it was too far to go now." Then my other sister whispered, "I don't think we've been there since dad passed away. Have we?" The whole thing just made me want to scream. Its as if the traditions we've had for the last 30 years have now been thrown out the window, or we now feel like we need to talk in hushed tones about dad and the things that remind us of him. Who cares if we haven't been since dad passed? Why should that stop us from going now? He wouldn't have wanted us to just stop everything that we've always done, since many of those traditions he helped create.
We also haven't set foot in Lancaster, PA in a few years - namely, Willow Valley. I asked last year if we could go as a family - no one seemed to be on board. We have spent every summer there for the last 25+ years. Why should that change because it would remind us of dad? Isn't that a good thing?! I guess I'm falling prey to the "oldest mentality" that my father and I both seemed to share. We want to keep things together - keep family close - create memories together - carry on traditions. Yet, no one seems ready or able to get on board with me. Its just frustrating and sad to me.
I know we all grieve our own ways. There is no time limit on grief; but I know for a fact that dad would NOT have wanted us to feel like we couldn't be happy anymore. He would want us to do the things we've always done as a family - and remember him! I feel like, sometimes, we are just supposed to forget. No one seems to want to share good times, good memories - everything is hush, hush. He wasn't part of the mob - he didn't die under mysterious or shameful circumstances. He had cancer. He fought hard; but this time we all lost.
I am so tired of feeling like my family feels like they are ashamed of their grief. My family, as a whole, are not big talkers; but I think that is exactly what we need in order to get through these awful times with our sanity somewhat intact. We are not all fragile pieces of china. We shouldn't be afraid to talk about things - for fear of someone not being able to handle it. If they can't handle it, they can voice it; but that doesn't mean that others can't discuss things. I feel like my mom is very sad, maybe even feeling alone and I don't really know how or if she would want me to help. Mom is a fairly private person, and I can appreciate that, but we are family. We should be able to call each other and say, "you know what, this really sucks! I'm pretty angry!" Or whatever he/she wants to say about it. There are no censors here! There shouldn't be anyway.
I don't know - it just hurts and it hits me at more odd times then others. The final straw was this afternoon. I looked inside the trunk of my car, that had been at my mom's for months. I was going to take some things to goodwill and thought I might have had some things in the trunk ready to take before. When I opened it, I saw bags, labeled - all dad's things. I wanted to scream. Not because I felt mom shouldn't have cleaned out her closet; but more because I didn't want to give away these things. I just shut the trunk - I will go through bags this week and pull out things I want to keep. I hope some of them still smell like him.
The feeling was similar to what I felt when mom finally was able to disconnect dad's cellphone. I had been calling my dad's phone nearly every other day, just to hear his voice. One day I called it and got a recording about the phone number being disconnected. I cursed, I screamed, I cried. I just wanted him back. In my memory, I can still hear the goofy message he left me on my birthday the year before he passed. He sang 'Happy Birthday' and told me he loved me and was proud of me. A couple years before that, on Valentine's Day, he came to my work and brought me a dozen red roses.
Why...I don't think I will ever understand why he isn't still here; but I will be damned if I stop talking about him. Remembering him. Loving him and wanting to keep the traditions going.
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