That's Not Why I'm Here: SOCS

So this stream of consciousness is coming from sunny FLA. Five minutes of writing that is not edited. Just written and posted. As always, I gratefully link up at Jana's place where other like-minded writers do too.

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Florida is not one of my favorites places because I don’t have much in common with the people who live in this part…they're old. Now some of you out there may be thinking, well she’s "old" too. And I will say to you, “NO. I’m not. Age is just a number.” I hope if you ever meet me you think, “Hey, she has a young spirit.”

But that’s not what this is about. This is about why I’m vacationing in a place I wouldn't choose myself. And I'm not Veruca Salt either.

I’m here because three other women are and I was graciously invited. I’m here because I’ve known these women as acquaintances for the last 13 years. I’m here because 3 years, 2 months, 13 days ago, we became bonded unexpectedly and forever because of tragedy.

In the face of a devastating event such as the loss of a 19 year old child who was the same age as one of yours, who was away on his own as a freshman in college like yours, who’s bedroom window was 15 feet away from yours, who’s death was so incomprehensible that you will never, ever be able to explain or make sense of it, there has to be people to pick up the pieces of shattered hearts.

And there are certain times of the year that bring out the “bad”. This is one of those times.

And as two of us listened to a sermon today in which she wanted no part, we understood that at times she feels abandoned by her faith.

And it’s not that we don’t speak of him. That the subject is taboo. It is anything but that. This morning, we had a nice long talk. We learned things about him we didn’t know, she’s never shared. We thought we knew just about everything.

My heart broke again. For her.

I cried but I often do.

And she gave me one of her trademark hugs.

I’m lucky.

Remember the Time...

Sunday is here and I’m ready for it! Stream of conscious writing happens every Sunday at Jana's Place and I’m happy for that particularly these NaBloPoMo days.

Five minutes to write about what I want without any concern for how it looks or if every word is spelled correctly (but my program corrects without asking me) and left alone after that. So here is my pre-Thanksgiving SOC.

(Courtesy of Butterball.com)

I have had Thanksgiving at my home for 23 of the past 24 years. The only time I didn’t have it was when I brought a newborn home the day before and that was 22 years ago tomorrow. Where does it go that elusive thing called time?

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. Hands down.

There are no presents (not a present person). It’s all about sharing a beautiful day with the people to whom you are most close. Simple. And even if you can’t be with everyone you love each and every year, you think about them and give thanks for those sharing your day. We are lucky.

And the best part to me, surprisingly is not the food which is devoured in mere minutes, is the lingering. We spend the day talking. There are so many “Remember the time…”s.

And the best part of all the remembering is that each person recalls the story just a little differently and even if the same story was told last year “Grandma, remember when mom…” “Mom, remember the time..” Dad or Grandpa or…The tale comes out slightly different every year. How can that be? It just does. 

Then there’s my brother, forget about it. He remembers nothing.

That’s what I love about shared story telling and remember whens. Everyone has their own recollection, their own view, and their own side to add. Making up the "complete" story.

The fact that my parents are getting up there and my FIL is sick makes this year’s gathering and storytelling all that more important.

A Stunning Sight Just Now

Dangling over my tiny village in a Big City is a simply stunning Crescent Moon.

The air is crisp as the bright blue cloudless sky begins to darken.

And it hangs there by an invisible strand.

The perfect example of how the moon should look when it isn't full.

From different angles and different places,

The composition of my photo would create a unique interpretation but somehow a similar one, too.

Lacking a phone or a camera, there isn't a picture of my moon today.

I paused to snap a mental picture.

Oftentimes those stick with me more so.

Then I thought

Is everyone seeing this exact same moon?

Can everyone see it like me?

I think 

Everyone who is important to me is under the same simply stunning Crescent Moon.

(Not the Crescent Moon in my village. Mine was so much more perfect)

Stashing Ashes

My mother-in-law, Nan, treated me with respect, kindness and tremendous love; something she never felt as a daughter-in-law herself. She said she'd never let me feel the way she did, an outsider in the family. And I didn't. Ever.

In the summer, we lived together for long stretches of time at the lake. Nan and I didn’t always see eye-to-eye but we shared common thoughts and feelings about family and friends, a love of books but most importantly we shared laughter. We would laugh so hard sometimes she thought she'd pee her pants. As funny as she could be, she was also intensely proper. It was such an amusing dichotomy. She was one classy lady!

I loved her.

Sadly, she passed away 8 years ago in August from cancer complicated by diabetes. If there was a bright side to her suffering, it was Alzheimer’s, which she had been diagnosed with many years before.

The opportunity to perform the final task, casting her remaining ashes into the lake, didn’t occur until the following summer. The lake is a wonderfully peaceful place full of heartwarming memories of our life with her. It’s also the resting place of a lot of ashes belonging to a century and a half of beloved “lakers” including furry friends.

As planned, my father-in-law, Nan’s children and the “out-law” (me) motored out to the middle of the water at her favorite time of the day, sunset, in our old Nautique ski boat. We shared our thoughts and reflections as we spread Nan’s last ashes. We thanked God that her suffering ended. We relished in the thought of a heavenly bridge game played with some of her closest friends, and we toasted an amazing woman whom we all loved.

Yet something during this boat ride and memorial didn’t ring true to me. Our words seemed to be lacking in a way, almost not emotional enough. It wasn’t what I expected but I chalked it up to being almost a year since she left us.

The following summer we were still adjusting to lake life without the family matriarch and my father-in-law was soon to be married. That same summer we decided to sell the old ski boat, which we all wished we'd kept in hindsight. 

An hour before trading in the “old girl” for a newer, faster, spiffier model, I thought to check the storage pockets and compartments of the boat because years ago, when I was young, my family almost included my high school class ring and retainer in the sale of our boat.

Reaching deep down in the pocket behind the driver's seat, I felt a small bag. Pulling it out into the sunlight, it looked really familiar! I realized what it was as soon as I peeked inside the blue velvet pouch.

It was Nan!

She didn't get completely sprinkled!

The rest of the family would've sold the boat, and Nan, without checking for personal belongings but I knew better. Something didn't jibe for me the day her ashes were disbursed.

Gathering everything I could into a trash bag except her, I walked up the pier to the house. A couple of friends were standing in the yard. 

As I passed Jay, I said “Would you please hold Nan while I take this to the trash?” 

I placed the pouch in his open hand. The look on his face was priceless. He’s incredibly squeamish. 

Chuck, our curious friend, said, “Let me see her.” as he peeked inside. He’s in the medical field. 

They've both loved her since childhood.

Possession is 9/10^th of the law, or so they say. I have her. The family knows I have her. From that day on, she’s resided in my underwear drawer. That’s not against the law, is it? Is that gross?

I figured it was the perfect place because I’m in that drawer daily come summertime, or should be, and when I open it I can say “Hey!” or “You’ll never guess what Bozo thing your son did today.” Stuff like that.

And sometimes I just want to think about her.

Last winter when I changed rooms and dressers with my daughter, she found the velvet pouch containing her grandmother as she was putting her underwear in the drawer. 

"What's in here?" she asked swinging the pouch.

"It's Nano, honey." I replied. She was speechless and all but threw it to me. I took Nan to my room and replaced her in her spot, my drawer.

I had a chance to visit with her this weekend and we had a lovely chat. I filled her in on the four of us. I told her I missed her every single day.

I also realized it’s not about having her but remembering her and reminding my kids about her. Memories fade easily if you let them. 

As life's been busier, I’ve appreciated reminders. For me, all it takes is a look at my dresser and I have my friend.

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This is my favorite picture of her as she enjoys her younger days on the lake. It is way before I knew her but it's how I "saw" her. She was a vibrant, loving and incredibly funny woman. 

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As always, you are totally missing out if you're not reading the amazing stories over at Yeah Write. Check it out. It won't disappoint!