I tend to call my husband Love,
so often I forget about it.
But my three year old hears us talk in the morning...
after everyone else has been shipped off to school.
Over breakfast or me fixing his lunch, she pays attention.
Friday, he was away on a business retreat.
My daughter and I went to mass.
She fished through my purse at the homily,
and pulled out my phone.
"Don't you want to call your love?" she asked.
And she hands me my cell.
"He is your love. You should call him. You love him don't you?"
she beams, knowing the answer,
equally proud to be in on the secret.
Yes. Yes I do.
How did we waste the time
Before we had the internet?
There were three girls running,
one of them wore orange.
both plucked yellow daffodils at the top,
and left the blossoms at the foot of the steps.
And all the construction workers
popped up onto the roads next to the pot holes,
taking the place of crocuses.
Last night I dreamt
of the beach house
destroyed back in 2008....
Instead of relishing
in this lost family luxury
I worked to get to the water.
my father was fishing
and I spent my time
working and reworking
the baiting of the hook.
Then we were in a hotel
but there was a pond/pool
and I stopped fishing
to worry about my son
and so I did not swim.
I turned to visit
and the room was filled with books
my son and the pool and all else
was gone and still
I did not read.
I woke up and knew
it wasn't an accusation
it wasn't a condemnation,
it was just a reminder.
From the many who love me,
be present, be present, be present.
March 15, 2014
Six word Saturday
I keep waiting to feel less.
March 10, 2014
That sounds so odd to say.
And yet it was right right right.
We drank. We sang....
We ate, we feasted.
There were far more stories than tears
The church, everyone should have this,
was standing room only.
Like a wedding, the guest kept coming.
Like a wedding, the wine and the song
like a wedding, the fish and the cake and the guests
We stayed and stayed and stayed.
God we loved our Dad
And God loved Him more.
We joked at the rosary.
The things my dad does to get out of fasting.
We sang and cried and hugged at the mass.
There were 8 priests, two deacons, four nuns and a bishop.
It sounded like the start of a joke.
At the burial, ducks flew over
and people wondered, was that their form of a 21 gun salute
to the hunter who put down his gun?
Or a mocking, "It's safe to come out now nahnah nah nah nah nah!"
And we sang again. We sang the Notre Dame Victory march
and went back home to start eating and crying and laughing again.
It was an awesome funeral.
March 5, 2014
Monday I felt a tug and prayed.
I've never prayed for a peaceful death for anyone.
It's just not in my make up....
But I did pray
that when my Dad died,
my Mom would be there.
She's spent the last year
driving to Orange every day
to sit with him
and sometimes feed him lunch.
Some days, he talks.
Most days, he doesn't.
But his face lights up
when she comes in the room.
Tuesday, my sister, my brother,
and my mom all said
he'd taken a turn for the worse.
So I told Mom my prayer.
Today, Ash Wednesday,
she was there
when he died.
And despite being 47
and a mother of ten,
I feel like a little girl lost.
There is no brighter smile
than the near unlimited joy
and promise of things to come...
found in the face
of a three year old
who found four pennies.