I Miss My Mary Mae - Guy Forsyth

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9YAG8ogh5hM&playnext=1&list=PLDEB6A1AE55D4ADB4

GRACE: Kindness, favor, mercy, benevolence, leniency, blessing, honor, beautify

I said to my sister-friend the other day that grace comes from everywhere.  Since then it is like I am so much more aware of the abundance of GRACE provided in life. Today began with a violent cry.  I think that is everything in that category!  I went to work and found delight in children today.  Children are a balm of GRACE. 

To continue with that child/balm/GRACE theme, it is Thursday.  Thursday has a rhythm in my life.  It is my day I eat the same lunch.  Every Thursday I have grilled catfish, macaroni & cheese and mashed potatoes, extra tartar hold the cocktail sauce.  After work I load up my dog and drive to see my college student son.  I cook a homemade meal.  I meet him at his apartment and we eat together.  We do nothing special.  We just remember we love each other.  He is my baby so we have a close relationship.  He is the most soothing thing I have ever known in my life. Children are a balm of GRACE.

When I got home I decided to listen to some music.   I had a little playlist that includes songs that I have sat and listened to with my sister-friend.  I wasn’t sure I could do it this evening, but I did and as has been the habit I found layer upon layer of GRACE in the songs of Carolyn Wonderland and Guy Forsyth.  I hope you dear reader will connect to the link and watch this amazing song.   It caught me deep when he sang those feelings from his heart.   I can’t really share that; it is a little close to the bone.  I am not even sure I can really look at it right now. But I know this wonderful song; about the awe found in a daughter gave me peace.  Children are a balm of GRACE.

 What I know is today, children have held me.  

This song- This artist made me smile, when I was struggling to do so.

I am thankful for those things that can soothe me and hope the universe will continue to fling these little life preservers my way. 

Lean On Me - Bill Withers

Lean On Me

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QPoTGyWT0Cg

I have been in a growth spot the last 6 months.  I have gotten past the failure of my marriage and I am coming to terms with the fact that a failed marriage does not make me a failure.  I have come out whole but a bit dysfunctional.  Well let me rephrase that. I have realized my dysfunction is partly to blame for the craziness of my marriage.  I am a fixer.  It would seem a lovely trait, to want to help others.  It isn't, or at least it isn't in the warped way it has roosted in my life.

I married a man that needed saving.  My soul had a jarring jolt when I realized one of my secret truths was that I married him not out of love but a sense of duty, to save him. I owed him that honesty.  Fuck that, I owed myself that honesty. It has taken a series of events to see that duty,  honor and commitment are poor substitutions for love.

I wrote in an earlier blog, entitled Trouble, about a friend that was too much work.  I love this friend dearly, but she does not love herself and I found it exhausting to fill that hole. This same friend does not love life and she harshly criticizes every conceivable thing.  Actually I have realized I have an abundantly large number of friends that NEED a lot of maintenance.  I have been weaning myself slowly from the drama.   This has been big. I have begun to see that I am lovable without having to be a fixer.

I have also been able to realize that I am a good friend in a pinch.  I am the one who won't say call me if I can do anything.  I am the person who will bring you dinner every week when you didn't ask.   If I know it has been hard, I will call you up and say pick a day and I will plan a treat.  I work on their time schedule.  I don't tell them I was up til two cooking the night before because I heard or knew this particular day or week was kicking their ass. I might not tell them I have been bailing our 3 other people who are in crisis at the same time.  I try to make it look effortless.  I try to do for them without presenting my help in a way that puts them in a position to have to do the old "You shouldn't have".  I pick the things that are not glamorous.  They are the tasks, the grut work, the in the background kind of deeds.  I don't need the glory, but at the same time I have needed the glory I give myself.

So I am trying to look at myself and prune some dead spots.  I can see my fixing is a strength and a weakness. You don't marry a man because he needs to be fixed; it is a poor substitution for love.  If you surround yourself with those in need of repair you can work on them, instead of yourself.  I also know that I good at giving.  I have an ability to see what will help and a delivery which is disarming and does not require the receiver to feel they are really asking for or receiving anything unusual.  Which brings me to this actual song and why it tells my song today.

I have a friend who really never NEEDS me.  She allows me to be gracious in my giving, but I never feel like she is one of the people I carry.  She in turn has carried me.  She was my life raft right after my divorce.  She kept me busy.  She introduced me to Superman.  She reminds me of my sister.  She has the same demeanor as my sister. I find her rational and calm.  I trust her always.  I never question her insight as it will always be well thought out, balanced and the one point of view that I could not find when I was chasing my tail.

 I took to pruning my dead wood and was making some positive steps.  It was a project that would be classified as well underway.  As is always the way in life, just as I was becoming confident in my self improvement regarding this fixing issue, I am needed.  I am trying to bring the good things forward and leave the warped things behind.

And this is where my world and hers collided.  My lovely friend, who is like a sister to me has had so many tough days.  I have watched her navigate major challenges over the last 2 years non-stop.  It has been to the point where you find yourself on the other side of "what else?".  I have learned the hard way that being able to say "what else" is a luxurious place to be.  You know life has been hard when you get to the point where you would never say "What else".  You can only arrive at that destination after you have had a long series of just plain ole bad. One morning you wake up and you realize you don't dare throw your hands in the air and shout to the heavens "WHAT ELSE?".  You get that there are probably still a shit load of buckets of crap that can be flung on you.  My friend quit saying "what else?" like anyone who has taken a multi-destination hike of misfortune. Sometimes in life everything that can go wrong does.

So I spent the evening with my sister-friend.  I planned an outing.  I did the things I am good at.  She did the things she is good at. We talked a bit about what is going on in her life.  We talked about life in general.  We were who we had always been, but I think we were who we will be too.  She is fiercely  private and her current struggle is such a personal private one. She doesn't like to need but I think I heard her agree to allow herself to be needy.  At the same time she has heard my need to be a healthy giver. In a few words she seemed to negotiate a new contract between us.   As usual with her, it was simple and understated.  And as is true to who I am, I saw the complexity in what lies behind what was said.    It wasn't a complexity of negativeness, but a complexity of grace. I say that in a way of generosity of grace towards myself (maybe a future blog will be needed to explain this).

So for now this is the song that tells the story in my life.  My friend who is full of grace has mine.  I don't know what she will need from me but I am confident I can do what she needs me to do.  I am also confident that she can do what I need her to do.  I promise to give in those ways I do it best and she promises to gently guide me when I need to do it in a why that works for her.  I promise to be able to hear her say what the boundaries are and she promises open a gate when the boundary has her blocked from receiving. So me the giver and she, who needs controlled taking, I think agreed without really agreeing to a contract between us.

I don't know where she is going with this current challenge but it looks like we may not be in Kansas any more.  She is standing there waiting to find out if she will need to seek the wizard behind the curtain for some potion like answer.  If she is off to see the wizard I am ready to walk beside her like the scarecrow, the lion and the tin man. She has my knowledge, courage and love. If all is well, I will be the first to help her celebrate. Regardless, in our silences, words and deeds she can lean on me... or  not depending on the way it plays. : )


Lean on me when your not strong.
I'll be your friend, I'll help you carry on.
You just call on me sister when you need a hand
We all need somebody to lean on.

Forever - Ben Harper

"Forever"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pHzAVDg4m1Q
I have a big debate going on in my head these days.  I keep going in circles, chasing my tail as I call it.  I get an issue in my mind and I am try to process it. My sister calls it "being stuck in her crawl".  When she has a problem she is quiet.  So I think the 'in her crawl" comment is wonderful.  She has taught me that silence isn't always a cold shoulder, but instead just a processing pause.  I wish she had told me that earlier in my life.  I am a talker, a say what you think, blunt, bossy, foot in their mouth kinda girl.  I don't like that about myself anymore.  It is part of why I am chasing my tail right now.

When you chase your tail there are 2 or 3 threads that just keep weaving in and out of your days.  You pause and think what is that about and then life distracts you and it lays until, with a jarring thud, it lands in your path AGAIN!  So I have had these pieces of vision drop around me. I know I am trying my best not to notice them but .... they are persistent.

So I got this Superman.  Life with him is unusual. I adore him.  I have begun to explore loving him.  And chasing my tail has begun. Why can't I just look at him and say I love you when something has happened between us that is tender, kind, loving, sweet, or just a moment one would consider uttering those words.  I do love him and yet I don't. It confuses me. The threads that inter-twine are bitterness vs. wisdom.  I become both characters in the movie "Out of Africa".  The scene where Meryl Streep and Robert Redford have an intense and some what uncomfortable discussion of each of their views of love.  She asks him to give up something he loves, something that is inherently part of who he is, to please her.  He in returns says his kind of love does not ask for proof or assurance. By the end of the scene it is obvious that two people who really love each other can't give each other their forevers. 

In my relationship with Superman I am both those people.  Half of me is Robert Redford.  I want that love where you are, who you are and yet you co-exist in a harmony of connectedness. I don't want to have to consider that other person when life presents its self. I want to never have to miss a sunset where I am because I have to be with Supe at a planned time. I never want to miss an adventure like Africa because of him.  So far I have had all those things.  It is a beautiful existence and yet I struggle by questioning it. I can't beat down the feeling that this thing, done this way isn't the passionate, consuming, controlling, intensity of the love I have known. So does that mean I am holding back? Bitter? Jaded? Broken? Or, am I solid, confident, happy and Good? 

Then there is the me that is Meryl. She needed promises.  She was willing to stand alone and care for herself if loving him required it.  But in return he would need to pay the penitence that she had prescribed for loving her. She reasoned that loving him made her reconcile her own needs so he would need to do the same as proof of an equal love.  I needed that same thing in the past!  Like Meryl I gave away some things I could not afford to lose. You think if I do this, he will do this.  When he doesn't you doubt his love and lay a brick in the wall.  Did Meryl miss the point and deny herself the thing she always wanted, to be loved for who she was? Or was she right.  This man made no promises of forever.  What if she got sick? Lost the farm? 

So here is the tail chasing. I like the Superman/Robert Redford version of love.  But I have this back music playing.  It is a whole different sound track that will not stay in the background.  That song screams...you are a fool.  This superman kinda love isn't real.  It is a fake empty version of love because it has no passion.  It is I will stay as long as life is rosy and not too demanding, fair weather love. Where does that come from??????  It makes no sense to me, yet it will NOT go away.

Turning back to argue in circles,  that Superman kind of love demands that you bring your best to the table everyday because you haven't committed until death do you part.  Instead you have said I will stand here as long as I, we enjoy standing here.  I will love you until I don't.  That is it...I think that is all we ever promise anyway.  Sure I see people (mostly the young) look at each other with forever glances.  I know that look won't be found on many days on the road ahead.  IS THAT BITTER OR WISE? Come tail, come! 

Well let's keep going....
Forever forever or forever as long as we agree to it?
Free or not loved enough to be held (sometimes too tightly) on to?
Carefully treading forward or not real love cause you can contain it?
Understanding EVERYTHING is temporary anyway or being pessimistic?

Today... I am in Robert Redford point of view.  I am listening to an understanding of great complication to me.  I don't need promises, other than I will give my best until I don't. Superman has my forever. 

Not talkin' 'bout a year
No not three or four
I don't want that kind of forever
In my life anymore

I will continue to struggle with why I can't stand up and tell him and the world I can promise I will be there for always.  I can't say I will stay through thick and thin.  I think I can stay for the rough days when life kicks dirt in our faces.  But I can't stay if he kicks dirt in my face.  I don't know if I can live this Robert Redford love that takes no prisoners and extracts no toll.  And yet to me it seems the only way worth doing.  Why promise to love each when later on you won't?  I don't wanna stick around anymore when someone quits loving me.  I am alright with that.  But that runs counter to the twisted view of love I have had.  I thought you stick no matter what.  Quitting is for pussies!

I currently subscribe to the staying-past when-it-is-fun-is-folly group.  But I chase my tail often...am I really just fooling myself that I can believe in a Robert Redford kind of love? Or will I always revert to my Meryl role?  On good days, I see clearly which is pure and which is marred.  On bad days I chase my tail.

So for today, in this moment of quiet on a blissful Saturday morning, Robert Redford is sprawled out in my sitting room floor and I tell him to follow his dreams I will be here.  And in these good moments I see that I can't say I will be right here when he returns (I might be out chasing a sunset of my own), but I will make my way back to him.  We will come back to each other... until we don't.  Isn't that the only forever we really have?  Or is that admitting defeat before you start?  Where is that fucking tail?


Forever always seems
to be around when things begin
but forever never seems
to be around when things end

Fact or fitful thought?

Let Him Fly - Patti Griffith

Let Him Fly

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X9g5d4bZdmI


This song should have been lying at my feet by some twist of fate when I finally knew it was time to go.  It would be the perfect parting piece.  But that would be back in that place where I was angry.  In that place I would have twisted the shredded slivers of my soul on the song's line ...

"Ain't no talkin to this man, ain't no pretty other side".
 I hated him.  I blamed him for the worse crime of all; He MADE me hate myself.  He told me lies, but I had to tell myself lies to be able to keep standing there.  Don't get me wrong.  He did some really not nice things.  But so did I. 

It wasn't the lies that got us, his or mine.  It was the truths we didn't tell.

He never told me he didn't want to ever marry me until it was done.  He didn't say it as a hateful jab.  Well, yes he did, but it was a truth, not just words meant to hurt.  The second I heard it, I think I knew it was true.  I just couldn't face it until now. More than all the lies he ever told, it was this simple truth that would have saved us from each other.  I want to tell him it was his job as a decent person to tell me that.  AND KEEP TELLING ME UNTIL HE HEARD IT.  It would have been ugly, I expect not too fun.  But I know it would have been okay.

"Ain't no way to understand the stupid words of pride"
My lie was to us both.  The first time he cheated, it cut me deep. I was young and we were married just about a year.  I moved out for a bit with a girlfriend.  He said all the right things and I went back. It would happen again and again. Somewhere in there fairly early on; I quit loving him. I just couldn't say that.  I didn't want to fail.  It was my pride, I realize now.


You know the light has left his face but you can't recall just where or why
Somewhere in there I quit believing. Somewhere in those infidelities I lost the light in his face.  Yet, I kept on going on like it mattered.  I built reasons in my head why I couldn't quit. I should have been more honest.  I should have told him I lost the light. Instead I blamed him.  I blamed him for what he did (oh and he did), but I also saw grievances where there were none.  I realize now our marriage was over almost before the ink was dry on the marriage certificate.  I am no less guilty, I am just guilty of different crimes.


It would take an acrobat and I already tried all that so

We spent so many years trying to hold on. I want to think it was a noble gesture.  We had some good times, but we had some really bad ones.  He tried for a while and then I would try for a while.  The rough spots came I think when neither of us was pulling for the other.  I think during those times we plodded along for the sake of the kids.  It just got too hard.  We got too tired.  And finally...

It took awhile to understand the beauty of just letting go

Still to the end it was a war to see who would hollar uncle.  I ranted and raved I would not do this again with you.  I must have said it 1000 times.  Like in the beginning you didn't tell me you didn't want to marry me.  And in the end you would not tell me you wanted to un-marry me.  So you did it your way.  You strayed.  You were caught. You waited to see if I would do what I said.  I was your russian roulette... and I realized....

Of the choices we are given it's no choice at all
That nothing before me felt like a choice.  I knew in the bottom of my soul...

 I just went and cut right through it
I was never gonna do this again and I knew...

And there ain't no talkin' to this man, he's been tryin' to tell me so
And you wake up and you just know...

But you must always know how long to stay and when to go
I'm gonna let him fly

I'm gonna let him fly, fly, oh

But there is more.  A friend asked the other day about forgiveness. I have made it to forgiveness for these wrongs.  His wrongs.  I have admired that about myself.  I have admired that about him.  Forgiveness allows me to enjoy what I like and admire about my ex now.  He is a kind and loving father.  He is good and kind to me whenever an occasion presents its self.  I see how he seeks to place his new partner on one side and me on the other at family gatherings.  He does that to tell me we, he and I still head our family.  He knows that is important to me. His kindness is not lost on me. I hope that he sees something in my actions that says the same to him.  And so he and I dance in forgiveness. 

We have managed that for 3 years or so now.  It isn't a fluke.

But now as I have found my footing and some direction.  I have been planted in a garden that fulfills me and nurtures me. As Voltaire said, we must tend our garden.  Part of my tending has been to prune myself.  I have looked back and seen my pride and was not pleased.  I have seen the damage of my own lies.  I have seen the truths I didn't say.

But I have also seen, the grace in my forgiveness. By forgiving him, I have no reason to not forgive myself. 

In this story at least...

There's no mercy in a live wire, no rest at all in freedom ... without forgiveness.

 

Walk Away -Ben Harper

Walk Away - Ben Harper
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6FSkL9hMhpE


D-Day July 9th 2006



July 9th, 2006 I ended my 30 year stent with a man who said he loved me, but actions speak so much louder than words. This is the story of the end of us and the beginning of me.


Oh no- here comes that sun again.
I went to bed last night with this feeling that something was amiss.  Nothing specific, I just this feeling that you were up to your old tricks again.  I asked you to sleep on the couch.  I was thinking it is coming.  I can't pin point it but I know you are about to pull the rug out from under my feet AGAIN.  I am fairly sure you have already strayed from me, but I have no proof.  I have been telling you for the last 5 years, I will not do this again.  If I ever find out for sure I am done.  I wonder if you have been listening.  I wonder if I have been listening.  I drift off thinking how the fuck did I get here.  How did I come to think this is how I want to live my life.


And (that) means another day without you my friend.
This line I think was where I began to spin my tale, actually it was where I began to chase my tail. I chased my tail in circles for years trying to make sense of it all. I thought I could not leave you.  You were my best friend.  We met when my boyfriend, your best friend committed suicide.  It is hard at 15 to bear that kind of loss.  We clung to each other to survive and somewhere in there you became my best friend. I could tell you how I missed him.  How I felt responsible and how some mornings I wish I wouldn't wake up.  You didn't flinch.  You were the person I could tell it all to.

And it hurts me to look into the mirror at myself.
I heaped every ounce of disappointment on myself.  Blamed, myself.  I couldn't stand the me who let him die.  I hurt to my core. You helped me get through and life went on.  We married; and moved away.  Had children, earned degrees and spent the next 30 years together.

And it hurts even more to have to be with somebody else.
I couldn't even think about starting over with someone else.  No one else knows what we have been through.  NO one will know that for a year we kept each other alive when we were ready to throw in the towel. No one will remember listening to ELO Telephone and seeing the lights in the sky collide.  No one that would come into my life if I give up on you would know my Mom and Dad who passed years ago when I was still young.  How can anybody new know me without knowing those things?  I think this was the thing I could not get past.  If I leave you, I think I won't really be me!

And it's so hard to do and so easy to say.
But sometimes - sometimes,
you just have to walk away - walk away.
So, I just kept telling you I WON'T do this again.  I was hoping you were listening.  But the fault wasn't yours.  It was mine.  Why should you believe me?  I have let you pull the rug out over and over.  I have shown you that I don't expect you to handle me with care.  But the thing that was different was that I was listening. We had just returned back from a week of wonderful fun at the beach.  You had flown back and I drove with the kids like I always did.  When I got home, I just knew something wasn't right.  I asked you questions and you told me I was craizy, always making up problems.  I don't need to make up problems...you manage to keep me supplied.  So I fussed and asked you to sleep on the couch and you did. So I got up early the next morning after having driven 1200 miles back from the beach and I walked out to your truck and looked for something...I don't know what.  I had never gone looking in your truck before...but I guess I had beginners luck.  In less than 3 minutes I found a hotel receipt. You stayed in a hotel close to home, while I was gone to Seattle.  I knew I found the proof.  The proof that would lay 5 years of "I won't do this again" on the table.  I woke you up.  I told you we were done and that day I asked you to leave.  More importantly...I NEVER asked you to return.  I faced that I would cut my losses at 30 years.  I would have to get past someone not knowing me like you did.  I accepted that maybe I didn't really need or want someone knowing me the way you did.  You know me as someone who can be walked on, mistreated, lied too.  I knew right then, I never wanted anyone to know me like that ever again!

With so many people to love in my life, why do I worry about one?
EXACTLY...why worry about one!

But you put the happy in my ness, you put the good times into my fun.
And it's so hard to do and so easy to say.
But sometimes - sometimes,
you just have to walk away - walk away and head for the door.
I headed for my door and never looked back.  I didn't look back when I was in Africa all by myself.  I didn't look back when I said hello to a fireman.  AND I NEVER LOOKED BACK WHEN I SAID HELLO TO A SUPERMAN. I found out that if I left you, I could really be me.  The me that is whole.  The me that knows I deserve better.  The me that is happy, just being me.

And it's so hard to do and so easy to say.
But sometimes, sometimes you just have to walk away, walk away and head for the door.
You just walk away - walk away - walk away.
You just walk away, walk on, turn and head for the door.


SLAM...  And ....I DIDN'T LET IT HIT ME ON MY WAY OUT!

One of These Days - Neil Young

"One Of These Days"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yEANf4u7bzA

One of these days,
I'm gonna sit down
and write a long letter
To all the good friends I've known
And I'm gonna try
And thank them all
for the good times together.
Though so apart we've grown.


A couple of years after this song came out, my mom died.  When I first heard it I thought; I need to send some letters to some friends of mine.  We were scattered by miles, life phases, family status, significant others we didn't like, kids, no kids, jobs and time.  I knew I needed to set down at some point and write those letters.  It has been 19 years since that song came out and I have yet to write those letters.  But I did end up writing some letters to old friends... and this is the story of how I had a chance to make everything right.

It would be fair to say I was a challenging child, I have always known what I wanted.  Add to that spunk and resourcefulness and you have me.  Doing something wrong was not usually an accident for me.  I knew what the punishment would be and I would just ask myself...worth it? If whatever was in front of me was worth a week with no TV, well then so be it. I think I saw punishments as the cost, my parents saw it as a deterrent.  I guess their plan ran counter-intuitive to mine.  I didn't get that until later.

Through my previous posts, it is easy to see that I am a Daddy's girl more so than my mother's girl, but I incorrectly misjudged my mother. My mother was a plain cook.  She kept a neat home, not a cozy one.  She was sparse with nick knacks and tighter with hugs.  I used to think my mother just didn't love me. She wasn't a hugger, nor a I love you'er.  I never noticed that she was that way with everyone, all I saw was she was not that way with me.  I thought since she didn't do those things she did not love me and I spent most of my life with never seeing or understanding that she said I love you in different ways.

My mother would always drive the truck for Girl Scout paper drives.  That was a 6 hr job, riding slow down the street as we hit house after house asking for newspapers to recycle.  Belknap in Louisville Kentucky paid us $30 a ton I think.  My Mom, made me a beautiful dress for a school function.  She would surprise us sometimes with a small trinket for Valentine's Day or clothes lying out on our bed if she had gone shopping that day.  My Mom loved us, but I just couldn't really see that.

When I was in my early 30's my mom started complaining of her right hip hurting.  That was in September.  In late October she was admitted to the hospital and they found spots on her lung.  She went through about 6 weeks of craiziness (yes miss-spelled, explained in a previous post).  I spent a lot of time with her.  I was a nurse by then.  My kids were young, 10 and 5.  I only worked a day or two a week.  So I spent a lot of time at the hospital.  The Tuesday before Thanksgiving I spent the day with her.  I gave her a bath and changed her sheets.  Mom said something about having not been outside in weeks.  I told her nurse I needed a wheelchair and I took her out.  I pushed her to the corner complete with IV and catherter and it was still a beautiful day.  I pulled her cigarette holder out of my pocket and I watched her smoke her last two cigarettes.  She enjoyed them and I enjoyed seeing her smile in the sun, content.  She had had a very rough day experiencing odd sensations in her arms and legs.  I thought she was just tired of being in the bed.  We didn't know for sure what was wrong with her.  We were told either cancer, infection or blood clots.  Every time they scheduled her for a biopsy, something went wrong, so we just didn't know.  I took my mom back inside and went home to spend the evening with my own family. 

Later that night I got a call from the hospital, my mom was paralyzed.  I rushed to the hospital, my sister was there too.  We stayed all night.  The next day I stayed with my mother.  My sister went to work. My mom made me promise that day that I would not let them put her on a ventilator. They said whatever those spots were; my mom had one on her C3- C2 spine.  If it got bigger, she would not be able to breathe.  She also said she needed to talk to my dad.  They needed to talk about where things were and what needed to be done.  My Mother had said she knew this was the end. My dad made a feeble attempt, but could not have those discussionswith my Mom, or so she said when I came back on Friday.  She had forbid us to come to the hospital on Thanksgivings. So on Friday my mother had me sit down.  I made a list of what needed to be done at home.  I made a list of what she wanted to be laid out in.  What color hair color to buy to dye her hair on Monday.  She told me she wanted her diamond engagement ring to be given to my brother so that he would ask his girlfriend to marry him (and yes they did get married later on).  My mom made me promise to keep my dad busy and to look after him when she was gone.  And then she asked me to do one of the hardest things I have ever done.  My mom asked me to get some paper and to write letters to those she loved.  I wrote to my brother and sister.  I wrote to her friends.  The hardest one was to her youngest sister, Beb.  I will never forget the sound of her voice, Beb,  Ohhhhhhhhhh Beb that letter began.  I still have to this day the paper that I wrote on so quickly to keep up with my mom.  Later I would transcribe those letters on to cards, which I gave to the individuals at her funeral. 

Growing up, I was never the go to kid of the three of us.  I was never the one, who was enough.  I was the one that challenged life on a daily basis.  But in that time of need, my mother pulled me in and said that she needed me to do these things and she knew that I could and would do them.  She also asked me to stay by her side and make sure she got only medication for pain relief and made me promise that when the end came, she would not know she couldn't breathe.  I did all those things.  I stood up and took it.  I stood up and defended her.  I stood up and held my father up.  I stood up and did those things that only a hard-headed willful child could do.  I stood up and would not be moved an inch from what my mother wanted. 

So I have never sent my letters, but I did send my mothers.  My only regret is I did not get that she loved me in her own way until after she was gone.  I don't know now if she asked me because she knew I could do as I was asked, or if she created the one scenario that could let me know she needed me, loved me, wanted me.  For whatever her reasons, I sat down and wrote some long letters, long letters to the ones she had known.
Some are weak, some are strong.

I miss her always.  Even though most of my stories are of my dad, it was my mother that taught me loyalty, resourcefulness, and hard work.  If I had not learned those things from my mother, I would not be able to do the fun things I learned from my Dad.  I wish I could tell my mother Thank you.  I want her to know that her needing me then, made all the things I hadn't done right, right.  My mother made sure I knew I was enough when all was said and done.  I only wish I could have told her that I finally got it...and she was enough too.

One of these days,
I'm gonna sit down
and write a long letter
To all the good friends I've known
One of these days,
one of these days,
one of these days,
And it won't be long, it won't be long.

Whip My Hair - Katie Gavin

Whip My Hair
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sp-wFsrM-Ng

All my Ladies if you feel me
You know blogs are a way to lay out what you are thinking about at that moment, but they aren't who you are.  Wait...that isn't right either.  Okay, this is the story.  I am divorced, but I am not defeated.  Some of my blogs might seem to imply that.  They couldn't be further from the truth.  So here is my whip my hair story. 

I am a daughter of a man who could fix anything.  I am a daughter of a man who would have shown a daughter how to fix the lawn mower if she had shown any interest as well as he would have shown a son.  But I didn't show any interest.  I was a girl and girls didn't fix things.  I did take a semester of auto body.  First girl in the Jefferson County school system to do so I believe.  Well, when the principal explained to my dad why I couldn't take it, they said no girl ever had.  And none did, until me.  Painting cars isn't really mechanical though.  I always felt I had No, none, nada skills of the mechanical kind.

When married, my husband fixed anything that needed to be fixed.  I wished I had told him more that I appreciated it.  I was just happy there was at least one thing that wasn't my job and I let that be his world.  I called all mechanical things, Blue stuff.  Blue as in done by a boy, not mine, no way no how. I never asked questions, I never thought that maybe someday I might need to know how to do simple things.  I took for granted; he would fix all my broken things forever.  He didn't. 

So the day after my divorce, I bought a house.  A little fixer-upper.  My brother came down and spent a week getting things sorted and repaired.  He left me with tools and a good luck hug.  He worked his ass off, but I think he thought he would be fixing things for me for the rest of my life.  My ex lives just down the road and I know he would come if ever I called.  My Superman would help me too, but I will confess he is not the fix it man my ex was.  That is good.  I have grown to like my ex again.  We don't talk too much but whatever we need to say or want to say seems to go well, with kindness.  I like to say, I didn't divorce him, I divorced loving him.  I like him.  That is better.  I also divorced the bad things.  I don't have to wonder if he is telling a lie, or about to turn my world upside down.  Those things are gone between us and I like the healthy place we have landed. Yet, I still don't want him to save me either.  I want to whip my fucking hair.

So I got this house.  I have a garage.  I had some tools I had been collecting for inside the house things.  I had screw drivers, a hammer and a drill.  When my dad died I got the tool box out of his car and I kept those tools.  Wrenches, sockets, pliers, and some things I wasn't sure what they were.  My brother left me some tools when he went back home.  I had power tools, a nail gun, levels, a sawzall.  I had amassed some serious shit.  So I asked my kids to put a tool box on my Christmas list.  I was thinking about the red, $129 one at Lowes.  Instead I got a three piece black Craftsman tool box, complete with drawer liners.  My baby boy bought it.  It was some serious cash.  Did I mention he was a college student?  Anyway, my daddy had a craftsman tool box, red, not black.  We used to sit in front of it on a bar stool while he pulled out our teeth with the same pliers he fixed the lawn mower with.  We begged him to pull them.  We wanted the quarter. Hey, life was less abundant back then.  Anyway, I have this big ass tool box and I put all my tools in there.  I got more than most men.  Well, if they could ever have them all in one place, who knows.  But they are all in there, sorted, aligned, and mine. 

So again I got this house and I got this big ass tool box and well karma kicked a little dirt in my face.  I jerked the hand sprayer on the sink cause it kept hanging on something.  So I jerked it and it came free, and then the door under the sink blew open and sprayed gallons of water a minute on my thighs.  I keep my head up I know I will be fine.  Keep fighting until I get there. When I am down and I feel like giving up I think again... I whip my hair back and forth. 

 And in that moment I had no choice but to do it.  I turned the water off and after a couple of phone calls and a quick read up on how to join PVC pipe, I went to the store and bought what I needed.  I waited for super man to stop by and see if I had figured it out right he said it sounded like I had it.  Secret, with the internet you can fix almost anything,  Anyway I sent superman home and I fixed  what I had broke. He offered to help, but I wanted to do it myself.  I learned a few tricks.  Since then, I have re-plumbed a tub, rebuilt old faucets, fixed several leaks, replaced two outdoor faucets, installed new lighting fixtures, fixed my push mower, figured out that my r-11  resister was blown on my Maytag Neptune and that I would spend more fixing it than a new one cost. 

I never thought I could be this person.  I am so not broken.  I am so not down trodden.  I love this life.  I love every new thing I learn. I am thinking that I can learn enough to live some day in a third world country and take care of things enough to help myself.  It doesn't matter if it's long or short, short or long. Do it do it, whip your hair"

I am in a whip my hair... kinda life...and I like it.