Coming out of the Fog

Tomorrow is a big day. My first official day as a contracted teacher since 2005. I am a ball of emotions, and add onto it having to do it on a computer? Whoa. I have never been an anxious person, always just taking what comes and handling it. Some was easy, some not so. But always, I came out with a lesson learned.  When I was younger and went to college, I was terrified. I was sad to be leaving home, my boyfriend, and my sister. I was embarking on a new journey with not only school, but as a freshman on the soccer team. How was this going to go? Would I fit in with my teammates? Was I going to succeed in school? How was I going to like my roommate? I cried a lot leading up to that day, and then, after throwing up before we left the house, we arrived on campus and moved me in, and I cried a boatload more when my parents left. Not only had I just left home, but here I was, in my new dorm on the 10th floor of the high rise, in my new beginning, all alone. And back then we had to pay for

When I was young, I decided I wanted to work with children. Specifically children with disabilities. My inspiration was my amazing cousin Rachel. I adored her and wanted to help children like her. I had been babysitting forever and had always loved kids. My trajectory was unknown to me, as I initially went to college to be a child psychologist. That lasted about a week when I realized just how long I would have to go to school to do that. Nope. That wasn't going to happen. I settled on teaching Special Education. It was a 5 year program, after all, and I would graduate with a Master's Degree. Score! Dad always supported my decisions, but this one I think he was pretty proud of. I didn't know just how proud until he died. He sent me a letter. In the letter, he told me about how he was so proud that I decided to work with kids with disabilities and that I went on and did it. The crazy part for me was that I hadn't actually been doing it for about 13 years at that

This year, I will have been married for 15 years. 15 years! After a rocky first marriage before I knew I deserved better, I met Roger and knew pretty close to immediately that he was the one. Luckily, he felt the same and here we are. 3 awesome kids, a wonderful life, lots of laughs and fun. We support each other. Always. Has it always been easy? Hell, no. Has it always been worth the fight? Hell, yes. My dad respected Roger. Roger looked up to and respected my dad. His death was just as hard on him, although he would never let me know it because he knows my pain is so deep in this. My dad had given Roger his full blessing one early morning before work in April of 2004 to propose. He consistently told me over these past years how good a man Roger is and how proud he was to watch our life together. My dad and I were always close. I used to hold his hand. A lot. It is one of my most special things to remember. On walks, sitting in church, laying next to him in his death bed. His hand

This weekend my niece got married. My oldest niece, born when I was in high school, is now married. She is the second of my brother's children to start their lives with their own family. Sweet, fuzzy headed baby Braelynn, who loved her hats and asking "why?" is married. It has been wonderful to watch her grow into this young lady full of poise and strength. She knows what she wants and has made it happen. Alex is wonderful and the two of them are going to go far.  Spending the weekend at this glorious event gave me pause, though. It made me realize how far we have come in a year. Just last year when Andrew married his love, Michelle, I was unable to really enjoy it. The hole in my heart was just too large, and I couldn't even fake it. I was so happy for them, but had so much trouble with my loss, I literally walked out on the Father/Daughter dance and sobbed by myself in the bathroom. I hope they didn't take my difficulty personally.

Yesterday Riley and I drove to my mother in law's house to visit. On the almost hour long drive, Riley was pensive. Normally, she would pass out in the back seat and I would be left with my radio sounds and my thoughts, but this time, she began talking. "I miss Grandad." It always starts this way. "He is in my heart. Do you miss him, Mommy?" "Yes, I miss him all the time. You guys spent a lot of time together. Remember what you used to do?" "We used to watch Mickey videos together! And Daddy Finger, and Baby shark..." It occurred to me that her 3 years of memories of this vibrant, active, wonderful man were limited to him being tied to an oxygen machine and sitting in a chair and watching videos together. Granted, there were many more that I have of the two of them, but her capacity to remember is limited to those. The most significant part of this conversation for me is the realization that for her, these memories are sa

On January 26, 2018 I eulogized my beloved father.  I woke up knowing it was going to be a terribly emotional day. I cried a lot. I got showered and dressed, looking as pretty as I could muster, as though it mattered. I sobbed some more. Then, on the road driving to the church, I got angry. What in the world were all of these people doing out on the road, like nothing big was happening? How DARE they go on like the world was the same??  My irrationality was real, and my emotions were raw, my nerves frayed at the ends. Yes, we had said goodbye two weeks before, but now, now we had to honor him in front of people....share a piece of ourselves at the memorial service and tell the world about him, as if that could ever encompass him, as if it could ever be enough. By September of 2017, the writing was on the wall. We (if we admitted it to ourselves) knew that his body was failing him. Our hopes of a miracle, that he would suddenly be well again, were now turning towards hopes th