Because it is May

I find myself sitting here in tears again, missing you. I tell myself that is because it is May. This month brings around the day we would have celebrated as your birthday. We always associate it with grilling out on the patio, because it so often coincides with Memorial Day weekend. 

The memories are so vivid. You, at the grill. My hubs and the other guys hanging out chatting around you. Mom, myself, and any sisters who are present all floating about alternating between food prep and tending the needs of the children. Oh, the children! Your seventeen beloved grandbabies! Each one a masterpiece blend of the generations preceding them. Each one unique! Papa's beautiful girls and handsome boys!

Gosh, Dad. How is it that you have been gone now for three years? I read my poem "Before You Sleep" this morning. I had been thinking about it for days now, maybe a week. There is this new show on television in which the lead is experiencing the decline and passing of her father. It is all too real, Dad. It is so similar in so many ways. 

I recall with visceral clarity the ache of watching you die. I still struggle with feelings of unfairness that I had a broken-down car at the time. I struggle with jealousy over sisters who got to see you, sing to you, love on you while you were awake. I was there, Dad. I was there! I am the one who showed up at night when there were emergencies. I was there in the dark hours where you weren't conscious and couldn't come to! Me, hubs, our babies... we were there for you, too! 

That seemed to define how I felt about your death. In fact, it still defines my life in a lot of ways. I am there for my friends when they are in the dark. I am there when nobody else is; when rays of light fail to shine through. Sometimes, I feel as though I have become darkness itself, so adept am I at walking through pain and grief. 

I wish you were here, Dad. I miss you every waking minute of every day. You do not show up in my dreams the way you once did. I dreamt so vividly of you those months and especially the days leading up to your death. I dreamed you were giving your final sermons in so many of the places you've preached in your life. The night before you died, I dreamed about a young soldier in a casket in the living room of our C.A. house. I promised myself that it wasn't you bc he was so very young, tall, and thin. I justified that by reminding myself that you did not get to be a soldier. And yet, he wasn't in uniform. He was in your suit. Plus, he looked exactly like you do in your college photos. I know it *was* you, Dad. I had to finally admit it when you went and died right after I had that dream. You always talked about being a Christian soldier. How fitting that my last dream during your life was you in the 'uniform' of a minister? God's soldier.

*sigh*

And you are still gone. All three years of learning how to walk with grief and breathe through the rawest moments have led to today: and today I am still sitting here in this house in this life and wishing you were alive and ten days away from a family celebration. I wish your nurse hadn't said "not tonight", so I could have been with you one last time. I wish we had gotten to sing you to Jesus the way you deserve. I wish I could rewrite history so that I had come up to visit the weekend before like I was supposed to. 

You couldn't bear for your girls to be hurting, I know. You said plenty of times that you don't want us to be sad. I feel sometimes that I let you down by grieving so hard. But see, Dad, it isn't a failure to move on. This is exactly how I *do* move on. Your love was as gigantic as your arms stretched around us. We still feel it, even now. So, please forgive my tears on the hard days, okay? I haven't lost faith in God... I don't cry because I cannot see the promise of Heaven in the distance. I just need to get out the everyday loss when it hits me the worst. 

You are such a beautiful soul, Dad. Thank you for everything you lent to us during your time on earth. Lessons learned, moments shared, love shown in action: all of it will continue to be cherished! So, for now, during this month which is yours, I will continue to get out these immense feelings of grief. I will wipe away fresh tears and tell my children that I am okay. I am just feeling melancholy and wistful...  

because it is May.

Spring 2020

This year has been wildly different than I ever could have imagined. Generally when we hear about epidemics or pandemics, they are "out there" in the world. They come and go with our thoughts and prayers, but they don't reach home. Thanks to covid-19, that has all changed. We join the rest of the planet finding ourselves in a muted life spent mostly at home. I think I will be better able to handle the claustrophobia of social distancing once spring has decided to truly stick around. With that in mind, here is my first garden update of the year. :)

Lettuce abounds! Ha! This picture practically needs no introduction! ;) I started my gardening earlier than usual. Given my struggles with depression and anxiety, sometimes starting seeds and growing things means the difference between being sad and getting truly dark. Having living things in the house is my lifeline.

As usual, I do not stick with too many of the exact same plants. I have my favorites, of course. Pink brandywine tomatoes and Hillbilly Potato Leaf tomatoes will always grace my garden. I grow lettuce every year, but the variety changes. Cucumbers will probably make a show at some point. I have zucchini, of course, for my neighbor who loves it. But we all know that I like to continually try to grow new varieties of fruits and veggies.

The plants new to us this year are: watermelon radish, purple dragon carrot, cucamelon, pineapple tomato, chives, catnip, and tigger melon. If you look these up, you will see that we have gone with some brightly colorful and interesting produce! <3

Tigger melon, for instance, has the pattern of a watermelon but in oranges and yellows instead of green. It is said to be sweet. :) Cucamelon is a type of gherkin. It, too, looks like a watermelon. The difference is not in the color but in the size. They are very, very small! Eeep! Watermelon radish inverts the traditional radish coloring, with a pale greenish-white on the outside and a vibrant fuchsia on the inside. Dragon carrots are the loveliest shade of dark purple on the outside, hiding the traditional orange core.

I think I will be better able to handle the claustrophobia of social distancing once spring has decided to *really* stick around. With my bales arriving tomorrow sometime, I am positively itching to get my back yard all garden-messy again. :) :) :)

Going outside fixes just about everything, doesn't it? The tomatoes I started too early are kind of limping along. I am looking forward to setting in a new batch of seeds hopefully late this week. My lettuce is trying to take over the place. My zucchini plants are perfection. The catnip is taller every day. I am charmed by the wee chives and MyLinda's suflower (planted from bird seed mix). I am enchanted by my tigger melon and cucamelon vines. I check MyLinda's watermelon radishes eagerly for signs of fattening up in the root. :) :) :) Even the dragon carrot experiment has captured our fascination. Birds are singing their love songs. They dance the mating dances of spring in the yard and the trees. **This blog was written but not completed or posted sometime in April 2020. ;) Right now we are in mid-May. I am due to create a proper blog post soon. <3

Mother's Day

Thank you for being my children, Giraffe and Koala!

Lord, thank you for bringing them to us. <3 Thank you for conquering both infertility and loss on our way to becoming a family. Help us to continue to be loving and open; willing to always grow together. <3 You are out comfort, our guide, and our inspiration.

I love you, babies! I am eternally grateful to be your mom. <3