End of an Era

March 2020

Two weeks ago, I had my last conversation with my Granny. She had been talking about having dinners in her memory care facility and talking with the men there. I asked her if she had a boyfriend. She replied "I don't remember...most likely!"

Sass until the end.

I didn't know that would be our last conversation. She was doing relatively well at the time. She remembered who I was, but wasn't sure at all who the little four year old with me was.

Me and my grandparents, 1979

Just a few days ago, it became clear that things were coming to a close. And in the midst of all that is going on in the world, we all knew that meant that she would be mostly alone when the time came. My mom, thankfully, lives close by and they lifted the Covid-19 visiting restrictions so she could move in with her for those final days.

Since there is no real place to be alone right now, I spent an hour in my car yesterday morning. I recorded my granny's favorite hymns (How Great Thou Art and Holy, Holy, Holy) on marco polo and my mom played them for her. What a miracle technology is! My mom is certain she heard me singing. Afterwards, I told her I loved her and that it was ok to say goodbye if she was ready.

But now.

Granny and her whole crew, late 80's

She's gone. 41 years of memories of an incredible woman are all that remain for me. Some of those memories are just captured in pictures but many others are clear to me...summers on the Cape with all the cousins and her digging for clams with our heels, the balcony view in her Florida condo. The hilarious interactions between her and her twin sister, Ann. She and my Gramps shouting back and forth when they both became hard of hearing. She was always up for a trip to the beach and she knew EVERYONE in her neighborhood. You could find her in the hot tub talking with anyone and everyone or on the golf course or taking classes just to enrich herself or at mass. Bringing my besties in high school down for spring break and then again my Hoohah friends down four short years late and Granny just fussing over all of us the whole time. My husband and I visited her the week after we got engaged and she insisted on taking us to the "club" for dinner and dancing. I will never forget she and my Gramps dancing to their song (Harbour Lights) and wishing us the best in our own upcoming nuptials.

She was a one-in-million kind of lady.

Their family: 60's

And now my family wrestles with how to say goodbye when we can't go travel. When there won't be a funeral anytime soon. When we have to grieve alone in our homes while the demands of everyday life continue around us.

I'm not sure where to go from here. I'm not sure exactly what grief looks like during a time like this.

I guess, just like real life right now, it's one day at a time.

Hank and Bea

I got the news of her passing just as I was getting my littles down to rest. They didn't really understand why I was crying and why I couldn't really read them books or do all the normal things. After I had them settled, I sat on my bed and looked through pictures and just remembered. Remembered a woman who always made me feel safe and loved. Who always made me laugh and stuffed me to the brim with food. Who insisted I take pre-frozen bottles of water from her freezer to the pool anytime I ever went. Who wasn't afraid to call out bullshit when she saw it but always did it in love. Who loved God and her family fiercely and faithfully.

Granny, words can't fully express how deeply you were loved and how much you will be missed. I can't wait for the day when all this current craziness passes and our family can give you the celebration you so truly deserve.

Rest well, good and faithful servant, beloved mother and grandmother. The world is changed forever.

Cue the Balloons

I don't know if it's one person's job or whether it's some kind of magical, automated thing, but you know that moment after a huge victory? When people are cheering and balloons drop from the sky as if from heaven and everyone is smiling and laughing and existing in a sea of delighted chaos?

How fun would it be to be the person who makes that happen?

Who waits for the cue and releases celebration into the world.

Today was my middle son's last day of camp. It started 3 days into summer and ended 3 days before the new school year.

Camp, my friends, was a risk. Last year came with a lot of curveballs. A lot of failures. New diagnoses. New therapists. New medicines and supplements. LOTS of new grey hairs. And heading into the summer, my son hadn't had a lot of successes to tuck into his belt. It had been a very hard spring.

His therapist, however, had insisted he was ready for camp. That he could DO this. And not just do or survive it, but love it.

And friends?

Today, I am seizing that job that sounds oh-so-fun and releasing a storm of metaphorical balloons into our lives.

Today, he celebrated the last day of camp with a party. He brought in his own safe cake and special chips and lime juice so he could partake of the kona ice truck fun. He smiled. He laughed. He said goodbye at the door to his dad without screaming or panicking.

And when I picked him up three hours later, he ran into my arms and told me all about the party. He hugged his teacher goodbye and thanked her. And she told me he had been a delight. A DELIGHT. In fact, we had not one phone call home the whole summer. Not only did he survive, he thrived.

I handed him a little gift to celebrate - a pack of water balloons - and we talked the whole way home about how much fun he had had. About the friends he had made. And the beautiful women who had taught him and laughed with him and sang and danced with him. Who had helped him have success after success.

And later on, he filled every one of those balloons and had his own little party.

And it wasn't just camp. As a sweet little four year old, he joined the swim team again this season and worked up to racing. He earned ribbons. His amazing coaches pushed him and loved on him. He had the large majority of the team and not a few parents waiting at the end of the lane in his very first 25 meter freestyle race cheering their heads off to make sure he made it. He felt like he was a part of something bigger and it made him so very happy. We even made him a swim team corkboard just like his big brother and he is so very proud of it and can't wait to fill it with more next season. He loves for me to read him his little awards that his coaches wrote for him and we laugh together about how true they are.

Cue the balloons.

We fight hard for victories around here. They don't always come often and they don't ever come easy. But my beautiful boy who had one of the hardest years of his life had his best summer yet.

I am so stinking proud of him.

He has worked his little patootie off with his therapists. And he is ready and excited for school next week. Turns out his amazing teacher this summer will be his teacher this fall so his transition (and MAN are transitions rough for him) is almost nonexistent this Tuesday. Look at God, friends.

We don't know how this fall will go. We have a lot of hope that his successes will continue. We know there will be good days and really hard ones.

But today, as his mama, I get to be the one who releases the celebration. And what a joy it is!

One Year Away

I can remember pretty vividly a few things about our first year of marriage.

One, when we would meet anyone married more than 5 years, we automatically assumed they had arrived at some kind of marriage wisdom pinnacle.

Two, we had literally no idea what we were doing or who we were as a couple. We just knew we wanted to figure it out together.

June 7, 2003, Right after the ceremony

Three, we spent a lot of time in silence because we didn't yet know how to fight.

And now?

Now we are one year away from celebrating 15 years together in marriage. 15 years, 4 houses, 3 interstate moves, 3 children and countless hours of making the choice, again and again, to say "I will."

I think back on those young people. On how much we didn't know. How we didn't know that he would go back to school and we'd move three times as a result. How we didn't know that we would deal with miscarriage and infertility and come out stronger, by God's grace. How we didn't know we would have to go through the agony of finding a church and a new community (supremely challenging for a couple of introverts) more times that we would like. How we didn't know we would have to learn multiple ways of being parents because of the unique challenges and joys of being an adoptive family. How we didn't know that those hours in silence that first year when we didn't know how to deal with conflict would turn into a faint memory. How we didn't know that it was possible to love someone more 14 years later than we did that wedding day full of love and joy and celebration with all those we held dear.

But we know now.

Marriage isn't easy. It's not all rainbows and unicorns and skipping through meadows of wildflowers. It's not just "Hey, let's have some kids and share our love and grow happily old together." At least not for everyone.

It's a choice. Every single day. To look at one another, say "yes" again, and invite God to help us love that person more than we are capable of on our own.

One of the things I will never forget from our ceremony was the moment our pastor said this:

"You won't wake up every day and look at each other and think "this person is such a blessing to me". You will have to make a decision every day to love."

Our First Dance

We talk about what he said all the time. We remind ourselves that it's not about how we feel in the mornings, but the promise we've made to each other. And that promise usurps everything else. How our kids are feeling and what they need. Whatever else is going on, WE come first in this family. Our marriage has to function for our family to thrive. This reality, I am increasingly learning, is a countercultural way to look at marriage in a very kid-centric America.

So what do I think on this 14th anniversary?

I think that though it is continually about making a choice, I do love this man more than I did on that day 14 years ago. That I have married this incredibly generous person who embodies sacrificial love to me and to our boys. I am reminded every day of his goodness and his light. When I walk downstairs every morning and see him on the back deck, starting his day in prayer, I pause. I can trust him because I know that he is trusting God for what he needs to love me well.

That, my friends, is a miracle. Especially from a recovering marriage skeptic.

I think we don't have any particular wisdom, we just have experience. 14 years and multiple moves and 3 children worth of experience. And that means something. We aren't the same people we were on that rainy day in June. We are so much better.

At UR, June 7, 2003

So, to my love, happiest of anniversaries. 14 years down, hopefully many more to come. Hopefully we will stay put for awhile in this new home, this new town. Hopefully that will give us a much-needed chance to breathe and set down roots and continue to figure out who we are together.

I wouldn't want to do it with anyone else.