Hermosa (beautiful) Costa Rica

31 Aug

 

Costa Rica is so beautiful! I’m grateful for the opportunity to visit, to sight see, and to learn about the culture.  Here are six things I didn’t know about Costa Rica last week – that I know now!

1) Costa Rica is 8-11 degrees north of the equator.  (I keep telling my mom this fact and she keeps rolling her eyes. We are on a girls trip. Traveling together.) Being this close to the equator means it is hot….like H.O.double TT. …and we are here during what is considered the winter months! Being a southern girl I’m used to the warmth but this is WAY warm…INTENSE, some would say.

My mom is a minalmilist (although she didn’t know this about herself until she read my Facebook post earlier in the week.) …..News flash: Anyone who sells all of their possessions and travels around the United States in an airstream camper for 18 months has to be a minalmilist!…Yes, she really did that! My mom is an awesome adventurist!

Anywhoo, I mention this as my mimimalist my mother suggested that we travel for 7 days with just a carry on.  I’m down for the challenge so I accept.  The problem is, I can’t fit all of my hygiene and beauty’s products into a quart sized bag for air travel.

I tell her, I’ll buy sunscreen there…She says it’s expensive…I say  how expensive can it be?  $45…that’s how expensive it is! A $8 bottle of sunscreen at home suddenly more than triples in value near the equator.  So here is a piece of advice…ditch the shampoo and pack the sunscreen.

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2) Lemons and Limes are the same thing in Costa Rica.

I kept ordering vodka soda with lemon and kept receiving vodka soda with lime. No biggie…it was a vodka soda by the pool, for pete’s sake! I’m not complaining! (First world problems, Ugggh!)

It wasn’t until the entertainment crew came by asking to play a game of “hit the lemon” that I realized the two were interchangeable.  REALLY! The lady next to me said “lemon? That’s a lime!”  To which the crew said, “Oh in Costa Rica they are the same thing!”  Go figure!

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It kind of looks like both a lemon and a lime!

3) I saw more naked butts than I thought I would.

Thongs, g strings and cheeky bathing suits (that show more cheek than a regular bathing suit).  Some of this is cultural….some is sexual, let’s be honest…  Size, shape, nor level of fitness was relevant to this equation.  Less is literally more! Listen, if you want to bare your butt, go for it. It’s yours.  I on the other hand can’t figure out why swim suit companies can seem to find enough material to cover mine.  I want the WHOLE thing covered….like granny panties – but cuter.  The search continues…..

4) My broken span-glish (Spanish / English) can pass for actually knowing the language – at least for the first two sentences.

“Hola, commo estas?” (Hi how are you)  “Muy bien, gracias”.  (Very good thank you)

Then they continue the conversation like normal people do and I said “No hablo espanol”….Receiving perplexed looks and sometimes blank stares,  I say  “un poquito” (a little).    Sometimes we chuckle…

Thankfully they speak better English than I do Spanish.  They were so kind and taught me many new words.  Pura Vida!

5)Pura vida??

Pura Vida in Costa Rica means all good things….It can mean hello, good bye, it’s good, all is well, life is good…..and more! It’s used constantly and interchangably.  Culturally, they’ve summed up all the good in the world into one phrase – Pura Vida! How fantastic is that?

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Bar Pura Vida (The Good Bar or the Good Life Bar)

6) Pack Dramamine.

We are staying in Guanacaste, which our tour guide describes as the “wild, wild, west”….before I get concerned, he says that it is because this is the countryside where  80% of the beef is raised for the entire country (his words not mine…don’t google check me!) We decided to take a day trip to Arenol to see a volcano. The trip is 3 hours long and consist of very, very, very (did I say VERY) winding roads. Cars are constantly negotiating for space on the road as they are just not wide enough especially when a giant tour bus comes through.  That said, I was car sick within the first 15 minutes, and naively thought it would get better.

When we stopped to change busses I asked the guy working the mini concession stand if they sold anything for motion sickness….they didn’t.  They literally could have had ALL OF MY MONEY  at that point for a single pill….I would have paid anything! Thankfully, this gracious young man dug in the bottle of a box for two pills, which he told me was for nausea.  He advised that I should take one now, and one on the way back from the tour as we headed home.  Nodding,  I looked at the back of the packaging, having no idea what it said, and took the pill immediately.  In hindsight it wasn’t such a great idea.  “Don’t take pills from people you don’t know” I can hear my father saying…but I’m traveling with my mother, sooooo….

Before I can pocket the second, a young lady walks up asking for the same thing. She is nearly green and I know EXACTLY what she is going through.  I decide to share, and pray that I make it through the trip without regretting the decision to take a unknown pill…or the decision to give the second unknown pill away.

Good news, the pill worked like magic! Both the young lady and I have a magnificent day touring Aernol.  On the way back though, the young lady doesn’t fare as well. Nor did at least two others.  She spent the majority of the next three hours well….you get the drift.  Sitting near the front, I was okay as long as I looked out of the windshield. … Long story to say – pack Dramamine! You could likely pay for your trip by selling them off!

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Costa Rica is beautiful and magical. The people are lovely and kind.  If you ever get the opportunity, jump at the chance.  You won’t regret it…just pack the sunscreen and the Dramamine!

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Sunset in Guanacaste – No filter needed

 

 

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I like long walks on the beach….

28 Aug

My mom and I arrived in Costa Rica a few days ago. We’ve been bonding over food and vodka sodas while soaking in the beauty around us…drinking in the heat of the sun and learning Spanish from the locals. This morning I woke up early (6am) and decided to go for a walk on the beach. The ocean was calling my name and my spirit needed the detox of the salty air.

The day before, My mom found a rock, with a full white circle imprinted on the gray stone, while walking in the surf. I thought it was so unique and I admired her find. So cool! I thought, I hope I find one too! She said there were lots to be found!

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As I walked, I kept  my head down towards the volcanic sand for the first half mile, I looking for anything similar. Lots of rocks were scattered before me.  I could spend all day looking for this rock, I thought!

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On an evening stroll a day prior, my mom and I had seen two mana rays in the water, shin deep, swimming along. The edges of their fins reaching out of the water as they propelled forward. I could hardly get the words out…”LOOK! LOOK!” I said, as I quickly tapped my mother’s shoulder  before the mana rays could disappear. It was such a site! As long as I’ve lived near a beach, (nearly 43 years) That was a first!

With this thought reappearing I heard my spirit say, “Pick up your eyes. You may miss what is happening in the sea!”

There was so much to see. So much to experience. I want to see it ALL, I whispered. I meant (and mean) that to the bottom of my toes! My bucket list consists of anything I haven’t done yet.

As I continued my walk, now conscious that I needed to keep my eyes wide, some large hermit crabs danced along the sand. Cleaning their houses by emptying sand balls onto the beach. It almost looked like an arts and crafts project to me and I chuckled. So frantic they were. Never leaving to much distance between their home (hole) and the beach. I thought, I know people like that. To scared to venture out.  I said “Lord, thank you for my passion to explore. Help me to not be fearful.” Sometimes I say quick prayers for no real reason…this was one of those times.

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Further down I saw what I think was a some sort of Costa Rican shrimp. He was barely alive and I bent down to put him back in the water. Tossing him in the shallow end to make sure he could swim, I watched his tongue stick out to taste the sea and salt, no doubt parched from the sun that had nearly killed him. I thought, people can be like that too. They’ve drifted, and need a little help getting home. “Lord, help me to not venture to far from you.”

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A bird, similar to a herring, moved near the rocks that rose into a mountain. He scared me because 1) I’m afraid of birds…but 2)  he blended in so well that I never would have seen him had he not moved! I thought, we can be like that too… To afraid to show who we really are. “Lord, help me to see clearly.  Give me discernment. Help me to be transparent.”

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As I started to head back towards the resort, a rock caught my eye. While it wasn’t a full circle like my moms, it spoke to me. Curled on the ends, almost in the shape of a heart, maybe even a silly smile… This design seem to represent me…. I knew it was mine to keep, and to ponder. “Thank you” I said out loud.

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There are moments when God just shows up out of the blue.  As I was walking back towards the resort, rock clenched in my left hand, I felt his presence arrive on my right. It was like he took a break from swimming, and ran to catch up with me. His voice almost breathless but not quite. Speaking to my heart he said,  “Do you trust me enough to show you what you need to see?”

Hmmm. I think I do. Actually, I thought I already did! But as God often does, he showed me through this walk that I hadn’t come as far as I originally thought….

Yes, I nod in a silent childlike response. “Yes I do trust you. Look at all of these things you brought to me today. I would have missed them if I had stayed focused on trying to find the circle rock …trying to find what someone else has…….my voice trails off at the new realization…..”

He means more than just today as he nudges the depth of my spirit.  Will I trust him? Will I relinquish control ?

I realize I have more growing to do…..As he repeats his mantra… “trust me…”  “I will not let you miss what you need to see. Trust….me.”

I nod. My soul recognizes the voice of truth.

I grab his imaginary hand on my right. Intertwined, I thank him for the walk, for the small blessings of the day. I know I am his…and he is mine. There is no greater peace than this.

 

If I believe that God will show me what I need to see, when I need to see it – at just the right time, I’m free to just be… To effortlessly enjoy what is in front of me.  I am in awe of his beauty and of his magnificent  artistry….. I relinquish control (again). My job is to breathe….and see…and to be open to possibility.

He will do the rest.

 

Thank God!

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Caution: curves ahead

22 Mar

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This week I watched a recent video of myself that I made with my son.  I was shocked  at the image I saw reflecting back at me. I’ve had a rough couple of years with some things …and apparently, I am an emotional eater….or possibly an emotional drinker… maybe…I’ve found a fondness for red wine and it found a roomy home on my hips.

Over the last few months, I began moving the clothes that no longer fit to the left side of my closet. I’m still flabbergasted  when I’m unable to pull up the pants I’ve worn for the last 10+ years past my thighs….The pile on the left of the closet  is large.

This means I’ve also had to  purchased new pants – begrudgingly. My collection is minimal in comparison. It was either that or go naked… I had no choice in the matter. Yes, leggings work well and are cheap…but they hide the fact that I appear to be growing – out, not up. At this point, my ass could qualify for it’s own zip code…

So, I’m watching this video thinking – How in the world?  Really.  How did I let myself gain 30 pounds? When I look in the mirror I know I’m bigger…but this video.  Lord, please promise me that the camera adds 10 pounds…that I really don’t look that way in REAL life.

But the truth is I’m now heavier than when I delivered both of my children.  I know I’m teetering on the verge of no return….and I don’t know what to do about it.  Don’t get me wrong. I know there are many women larger than myself. This isn’t about them. THEY ARE BEAUTIFUL. This is about me feeling good, or not, in my own five-foot-five-and-half skin.

This is how my day starts:  I try on a new black skirt that arrived yesterday.  To tight.  I contemplated keeping it for “when I lose the weight” but more than slightly depressed at the likely hood of that NOT happening, I tossed the skirt on the bed to return later.

I then selected white slacks that I knew were a size or two larger. They fit, but the view from behind was not so cute….On went the Spanx – boy shorts.  Spanx, the well-known by ladies around the world (but rarely seen by men) undergarments that are made to make me look skinner.  Yet, I some how now feel like a sausage.  A bratwurst to be specific…But damn it to heck, I have to go with this outfit because I’ve already worn the other two pants that fit me this week.  Tomorrow it’s jeans….

I tossed on a cute shirt from a local boutique that I haven’t worn since last summer. It was a little snug across the chest but nothing terrible I thought…However, the more I moved my flat iron across my hair, I realized it was too constricting.  I no longer liked it.  Crossing my arms at my waist to lift the fabric….I find I can’t. I was stuck. I couldn’t get this damn shirt off my body.  I twisted, I tried….I grunted…I thought, “Imma have to cut this bitch off.”…For a second I contemplated running downstairs to wake up one of my children to help me pull this sucker off….I’m not sure I’d live that one down…EVVAHH… Five minutes and a few tears later, I wiggled out of  shirt looking like I’d been on a subway fight. Red in the face, hair a mess…

I promptly moved it to the left side of my closet.  My first thought?

You know you are fat when you get stuck in your freakin’ shirt. What the hell…

On to work. As I’m walking up the sidewalk I say a little prayer.  “Lord, I don’t like this. I don’t like how I feel about me. You love me and have helped me in so many ways.  Help me to lose this weight.”

Fast forward through my day.

I’m in the ladies room where a coworker asks How I’m doing. “busy. good.” I say.    I tell her she looks beautiful today.  She shrugs, not believing my words, her eyes drifting away from me.  Then she says, “You look good too. How did you gain your weight? Eating too much.”

Yessssss. She said those words.

Before you get riled up and ready to kick ass, please hear her story.

She is from South America. She LOVES curves.  Which until her recent weight loss, she had — curves for dayyyys!  She tells me, almost too eagerly, she can’t wait until she can put on some pounds.  She is serious…This I know.

I tell her I’ll shift her some of mine – If only it were that easy!   She then says with a large grin and wiggling eyebrows,  “I bet your husband is happy” as she points to my zip code carrying ass….

She is losing weight not because she wants to friends, but because of the chemo.  You see, she has breast cancer.  She wears a scarf to cover the hair loss which makes her self-conscious.  She has a hard time looking me in the eyes,  really – looking anyone in the eyes, these days.  Yet, I think she looks more beautiful than in any day prior.  Her warrior spirit is shining.  She is fighting and it shows. Without the distraction of her hair, which was indeed gorgeous, her eyes become the focal point, dancing in the light.  She is simply stunning.

I get back to my desk and think, “You know your fat when…”

Then I stop.  I close my eyes….I sense God’s hand…and I pray.

I thank God that I’m healthy.  Specifically, I thank him for my cancer free body.  With embarrassment, I apologize for believing anything different. A few extra pounds is nothing in comparison. I thank him for this lesson, for humbling my spirit.  I know I have some work to do…and I will.

Ladies, would you please join me in shifting our focus away from who we want to be and allow ourselves permission to be who we are?  Let’s not put our self-worth in our hair, our bodies, our curves – or lack of…

PS – If no one told you today, let me have the honor of doing so.  I love you. You are beautiful.

Put that on repeat.

Perspective.

Just a little more, please

7 Apr

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Dear Fashion Industry,

 

We need to have a chat…Pull up a chair and settle in.….

 

With summer on the way, I’m slowing emerging from my cocoon of sweaters and boots. Looking for a few new  items to add to my wardrobe is becoming more difficult than I remember it from previous years.

 

Let’s start with tops….Can I make a request?  Please do not  use see-through material to make my shirts.  Every SINGLE shirt I try on is see through….I don’t live in the Midwest and I don’t like to layer.  I want to wear ONE shirt….not six.  When I put my ONE shirt on, I don’t want others to be traumatized by seeing my bellybutton, moles, or random hairs that may or may not be present. Shirts are MADE to cover those suckers up.  Don’t believe me? Just ask, I’ll tell you the truth.

 

While you are at it, can you use a zipper longer than 1.5 inches on my jeans, please? I mean, really. It can’t be THAT much more expensive to throw a girl a couple of inches. I’m thinking 4 should do the trick….Don’t get carried away and use those long suckers you put in “mom jeans” but you know, just a little more zipper would be nice…Know why? Because it means you’ll also need to use a little more material to fully cover my hips. Muffin tops are not cute.  They.are.NOT.  You force me to show my muffin top and I’m not happy about it.

 

While we are talking “mom jeans”, let’s talk about shorts. Of the styles available,  I have to choose from a 1-inch, 3-inch or 24-inch inseam….can we not get something in the middle? I’m freaking serious here.  I’m 40 years old…no one wants to see me in a 1-inch inseam shorts…In fact, I’m pretty sure I own underwear with a longer inseam .……I also don’t want shorts that cover my knees…those are called capris…I just want mid-thigh length shorts.  Why do I have to beg for something that seems so reasonable to me? It is exhausting….

 

Now let’s talk bathing suits….WHY, WHY can you not give me enough material to both cover my crack and my hips simultaneously?  I know it’s possible. I have underwear that can do the job….so….

 

As I’m typing I’m thinking, my underwear kicks ass….maybe I should just wear that and be done with it…I mean if leggings qualify as pants, couldn’t my underwear qualify as shorts??

 

Frustrated and damn near naked,

Lady Chatsalot

 

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In the Eyes of the Beholder….

18 Apr

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In an effort to declutter our home, I’ve posted a few items on Craig’s List.  One item happens to be a heavy desk we’ve had in a spare room for many years without use.  Because of it’s shape and girth, the deal required someone to come to our home for pick up.

We’ve met some characters during this process.  The last lady, purchasing another piece of furniture, and her family came in our home as if they were looking for a place to shack up. Each eyeballing and commenting on the rooms as they passed.  “Oh you have xyz, that must be nice….Ohhhh, and the high ceilings….I’ve always loved those” …..I half expected to find them on my sofa when I came home the next day.

While I find humor in it all, and I like the cash, my husband finds it more burdensome.  Not because he doesn’t like cash….just because you never know what you are going to get when someone pulls up to your house…. and that makes him a wee-bit uncomfortable.

After several messages and missed appointments our buyer for the desk finally arrived….thirty minutes late.  My husband is now shifting his feet, anxious to get this over with as it  dinner time….  And dinner time takes priority over all else in this house!

I meet the young blond outside and noticed his slightly broken English. He states twice in a rather short period of time that he is not from the area so I asked the question, where are you from?  The Czech Republic.

What the heck are you doing here?

He couldn’t contain his smile and his eyes danced wildly as he told the story.  Turns out, he was “finishing university” and applied for a green card on a whim.  He received the notification that he won! His mannerisms and body language  told me that it was a major, lottery size win to get selected for the green card. He was joyous…boundless joy exuded from his every movement.

So, he said, “I packed up my book bag and came over.”  ….

That simple I thought….Just a book bag and a smile.  A new country waiting for you to explore awaits.  How fantastically scary, yet tremendously awesome. Brave!  Good for you!

My husband on the other hand, is now looking at him as if he were crazy…Our travel book bag, for day trips, barely zips with all the crap we tow.  He is thinking…a book bag? Your whole life fits into a book bag?  He clearly does not share our last name!

The young man goes on to talk about the work he found while here, a German based company.  He has high hopes that he will be able to transfer when his green card expires.   He states he will one day need to go back home because he is a “child of one” and will have to take care of his parents. The duty understood and accepted without question.

As he says this, urgency builds and he spins on his heels. He says “I’m sorry. I just need to look”…..pausing…  “This is so beautiful, his arms wide, an effort to take it all in. I’ve never seen anything like this… but in the movies.”

Huh?  My husband I both twist and turn trying to see what he saw.  Nothing.  Our faces perplexed he said, “I’m living downtown and it looks a lot like my home. But here, you have grass and yards, and trees….It’s so…so beautiful.  I’ve never seen anything like this.”  He truly is almost brought to tears.

We smile back, softly….kindly….unable to match his energy.

In our minds our house is nothing special in comparison.  We bought it with the sole purpose to keep our oldest child in the school district we wanted him to attend.  It has never been our dream home, only our in-between home.  In fact one of the reasons we are decluttering is to prepare to sell it over the next few years.  Sadly, we’ve never been in love with it.

His words, his pure wonder and excitement….sit with us through dinner and into the days that follow.

I recant the story to my youngest on our drive to school. He says, “that makes me sad for him.”

“Why?” I say

“Because, what must his country look like if he thinks this is beautiful?”

Taking a few minutes to ponder, I respond, “You know what? It makes me think I need to travel more.  I’d like to see his country. He said it looks a lot like down town.  Because he is so used to that, the beauty has worn off….It just is normal…boring…to him.  Yet people travel from all over to vacation in our city.  Here, with green grass and birds and trees…that is beautiful, because it is different.  I may feel the same about his country if I saw it.  It may be so, so beautiful to me because it is different than anything I’ve seen before.”

He nods in agreement.

Thank you Lukas for the lesson.  I’m not sure I’ll ever look at my home the same.  Your words echo in my ears when I pull into the drive way, and I am grateful.

I pray my young man grows up to be just as courageous one day. Following his dreams with his smile and his back back.  Ready to take on the world, fearlessly educating himself through experiences.

I pray that my eyes continue to open wide enough to see beauty in all things… even the beautifully… normal things.

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#Epic.FAIL….

5 Apr

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SOooooo, I was being just a tad bit nosy last week…cyber stalking a former friend’s page….a little Face Book voyeurism, if you will…
Don’t judge! You know you’ve done it too!
Truth is, I miss her.  She is hysterically funny, loyal and just fun to be around.
She is also pushy, controlling and demanding.
We ALL have our issues, don’t we?
However,  for the latter reasons, and the seeping of such into my world, I decided to end our friendship.  
We broke up.
Truth is, I changed. She didn’t.
Don’t get it twisted though, she didn’t need to change.
She is perfect just the way she is.  Just not a perfect fit into my life.
Through a painful period of self analysis, I realized boundaries were lacking in many of my relationships.  Internally, was bleeding….carving myself up every time I fed the need to please addiction raging under the surface.
Something…had…to…change.
I HAD to change.
Truth is, I needed some time to focus on me….on my marriage….on the boundary lines that had eroded over decades until I no longer recognized myself when I looked in the mirror…only the pencil outline remained of a  perfect mom, of a perfect wife….striving to be even more perfect with every breath.
Truth is, I only had room for one other human on my tattered, old boat. It was setting sail…Pushing away from the dock, I wasn’t even sure it would float with the additional weight. It was already taking on water, puddling and pruning my toes. In the days that followed, we fought for ground through ragging  storms, through silent nights….at times our arms flailing wildly, threatening to capsize the boat.
There were days that I thought we’d die on the water…someone would find our boat floating, empty and lifeless.  Would they even know we were there?  Would our bones remain with the memories? Would they say a prayer for a marriage lost?
Motor less, we had to learn to paddle in sync to make it to shore…. slowly at first… Then suddenly, the water calmed. The sun a little less harsh….we found a bit of comfort in the space…some peace…able to raise our heads and recognize beauty in the small gestures.
Soooo, when I received a notification that my former friend accepted my Facebook friend request…I was stunned. I hadn’t sent it…or at least I didn’t MEAN to send it….
Epic.F-A-I-L.
 
I fessed up through email …acknowledging my nosiness…

A spade is a spade….an embarrassing spade this was, indeed…

I didn’t want to un-friend her….left it up to her to decide how to move forward. In retrospect, maybe that wasn’t fair….
I honestly didn’t want to inflict more pain….and secretly I was hoping that one day, through the slow erosion of the defensive walls we built for self protection, we would be able to find friendship again.
What followed was a bit out of a high school text book…Social media brings out the inner teenager, doesn’t it? I was mistaken to believe we could co-exist without issue. There is still to much pain…to much heartache….
Truth is, she is entitled to feel the way she does…just as I am.
These days, I try to live in a drama free zone…yet I’m finding myself stuck smack dab in the middle of this bulls-eye….
Unfortunately, yet unapologetically, this boat still only has two seats.  Thankfully, K and I are closer to land now than ever before.

Still on the journey but not lost at sea….

Deeply

14 Mar

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I didn’t realize I was angry.

It snuck up on me the way the ocean consumes the sand on windless day. Slowly. Inch.by.Inch.  Before I knew it, there was no place to sit….No way I could deny it’s presence.

I haven’t heard your voice in four years.  I think I miss your wicked sense of humor most.  They way you could shake me out of myself with something hilariously sarcastic..and the way I would laugh for days about it when the memory resurfaced…

How I sobbed when you left.  Strange and deep, from the pit of my soul, I sobbed.  It was unfamiliar and scary.  Honestly, I didn’t recognize my own voice.  Grief had stepped in to guide my ship. His voice interrupted mine…until  I graciously stepped aside.  I didn’t know how to navigate this path.  I didn’t want to.

However those days, and the days that followed, were strangely covered in a cloak of peace. It hung on my shoulders like a winter shawl, beautiful but painful to the touch.

I understood it was time. You were tired.  Your body to weak to fight for air.  Your lungs had failed you.

I could point wagging fingers at DNA or life-style choices….I could….but I won’t

I remember the way you would get so excited to have treasures on hand for T.  No sooner would his feet cross your threshold than you would say, “sit. I have something for you” fumbling with the remote to play back his favorite show, or pointing at the candy dish.

When our oldest S, came over to do lawn work in the spring and summer, you were thankful for his service…but you cherished the conversations shared over a soda the most.  Relaxing together as he cooled down from the summer heat, you hung on his every word.  We laughed when your calls for lawn service became more frequent.  S would grin, knowing that what you really wanted, was some of his time.  The lawn work was just a means to the end.   If S, a man of few words, shared any hint of insight into his life, his dreams, or aspirations, you held on to that nugget like it was solid gold.  Pleased and thankful that he trusted you enough to share.

You loved my boys…and they loved you.

When I hold this baby girl, this beautiful precious great-great-grandchild of yours….when I see the corners of her eyes touch the corners of her smile…I think of you.  I know you would have adored her every movement.

And…. I’m mad that she will never know your voice.  I’m mad that you won’t experience the love that circles in the air when she is around.

I’m mad that you left to soon.

I pulled out the old wooden high chair from the attic last week….the one we thought about throwing away a few moves ago but couldn’t. Couldn’t because it is the one you refinished for S when he was a baby. Who would have thought It would last another generation….as sweet baby girl ate her green beans, I couldn’t help but wipe away a few tears knowing her great-great grandma poured so much love into the seat that held her.

They say the measure of your grief shows the greatness of your love…..

I guess that is true.

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Rest in Peace Gram.  You loved and were loved….Deeply….

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