Our world lost another beautiful soul this week. Helen Culligan. My mother in law. My husband's number one gal and what a gal she was. Mom had a innocent about her. She was in this world but her heart remained detached from all it's cruelly. She didn't gossip, or complain. Everything was great and if it wasn't she would just say her famous "Whatever" and that would be the end of it. She would move on to something else that was great. Her eyes seem to dance with child like mischief because life was an adventure to her. She just wasn't going to waste a moment of it. My generation seems to be losing our parents. That seems to be happening more and more lately. We are becoming orphans in our mid life and you know, we feel like orphans. As I sat in the funeral home on Thursday I watched my husband and his sister hold each other in front of mom. I couldn't help but see the innocent of their love for their mom as I saw them kneeling there. In my eyes I could visualize them as little "Paddy" and "Nan" kneeling by the side of their bed saying their prayers. They where children once again and at the same time they where children for the last time. As they turned, with tears in their eyes, holding one another I knew they where starting a new journey in their lives. They where on their own now.
It's funny how this works but our mom's where the foundation of our family for Pat and I. They created the most memories it seems. They made us feel loved and unique. They thought we where the best, the smartest, the pretties and the most handsome prince.
My heart breaks today for those who do not have the love of at least one parent. I know that many do not have the comfort that comes from the security that a family can give. We are lost in our own worlds. So many are not even capable of giving this kind of love or commitment. We could blame it on our lives that are so different now. So many big problems. Not enough money. Hard times. That's not really different at all. The difference is the commitment that these woman made to their children.
They made us strong and able. They knew when to hold on but also they knew how to let us go. I remember time and time again saying to my mom "I can't do it" and she would answer "you have to." She did not protect me from every storm that came my way.
I would like to write tonight how much I am like Helen but I am not. First of all as much as Helen did not complain...I do. I am a chronic complainer. I know it and you can bet my family will nod in agreement on this one. I don't have her sense of adventure either. I tend to play it safe. I hang out on the side lines. Mostly I am not as kind in my thoughts and words toward others. I don't over look the little things. I can pick apart someone in a blink of an eye. The one thing we have in common is that I love her son, to me he is the best, the smartest and my handsome prince. I think she knew how I felt about him and I believe it brought her comfort. She knew her Paddy would not be alone.
I do believe in the after life. I am so grateful for this. I thank my Mom for her faith that she quietly passed on to me. How sad it would be for me if I couldn't continue to talk with these two beautiful woman. I rest knowing that they are together in their final home in heaven. I am sure they are shaking it up a bit!
We will miss you Helen, how could anyone like you not be missed! We will keep you alive in our hearts and we will Smile.

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Fingerprints.

Fingerprints. I think a home with or without fingerprints tells you a lot about who lives there. Without fingerprints, parents of small children. With fingerprints, grandparents of small children. That’s probably not true for many people but it sure was true for me. I was the type of mom that attacked fingerprints with Windex and paper towels like Mrs. Clean. I didn’t see the beauty in them. They didn’t make me smile. Nope, I was out to get them. I’m not like that anymore. All of sudden fingerprints are cute. They make me smile. They make me remember how they got there and by whom. Enter Cassidy. With ten little fingers. She made the difference. Last weeks fingerprints still linger on my front window and in my heart. I smile as I remember holding her as she ran her little fingers up and down on my clean window. It was cold out so they really stuck. She was in my arms and we where waiting for Angel to come in. Angel is our dog, known to Cassidy as “Good Girl”, that’s what she calls her. I can see her tapping on the window and calling out “Good Girl” as we waited. When I see those fingerprints I think to myself “how sweet“, I’ll leave them on there just a little while longer” It’s like that with our glass T.V. stand too. I can see her little fingerprints in the dust. That too can wait. No, I am not looking for an excuse to not clean. Anyone who knows me knows I like a clean house but baby stuff is different now. It’s not dirt. It’s not a mess. I would rather spend time with Cassidy then clean. I learned late, but none the less I learned that babies don’t wait. They grow up so fast. I just don’t have time to waste anymore. As I drive by other peoples homes and I see fingerprints all over their front window I think to myself they got it. They understand. A child lives there. A child who is free to create works of art on a window.
It’s not just fingerprints either. Pat caught something last week that I didn’t realize. It was Sunday. Cassidy was over. The Sunday newspaper was in a neat little pile and guess who decided she wanted to read it. Cassidy dove into that newspaper like a little tornado hit it. She was fast and she was mighty. The ads flew in all different directions. I heard the paper ripping and I heard her laughing. This was great. She was having a ball. I was just watching her. Not doing a thing when Pat said to nobody special “ I could never get a way with that” It’s true. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. That might be another lesson for another day.
Why is it that when we are young so many things seem so important? Why do we have to keep up appearances.? Why do we try to impress others to the point of depressing ourselves? I know that most people share my experience. I see the younger generation driving new cars, living in developments and their children dressed in cloths that cost more than mine. These parents are good parents. They spend time with their kids but they are tired. They can’t keep up with the bills. For some it means working more and more. Time spent is in the car from one place to the next. I want to say “slow down“. It’s okay to live in a older smaller house. It’s okay to drive a car for a few more years. It’s okay to go and spend the day at the city pool with your children instead of peeking in on them every now in then in your back yard.
Sitting around the dinner table together or watching a T.V. show together is not even normal anymore. It’s the exception. How sad. How many conversations are lost. How much silliness is missed.
I know I am getting more emotional as I age. I see how fast life goes and how much does work out by itself. You couldn’t of told me that when I was young. Some days I have to remind myself still. It’s getting easier. I am so glad it is as I sit here and write with my dog at my feet. With fingerprints on my windows and dust on my T.V. stand and memories in my heart. I have it all. I’m finally getting it.

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The other day I was talking to my best friend over the phone. I mentioned something that my mom did and she said “ How mean”. It was because my mom could be that way. She had two sides. Yet, at that moment I thought to myself “ I don’t want to remember her that way” I don’t want to hold on to the pain. I don’t want to dig it up every now then like a cherished memory. Brushing off the dust so I could take a good look at it. It was part of my past. Part of my past with my mom. I want to leave it there. It’s not like forgetting. You can’t ever forget but it is saying it’s over. It’s choosing to remember the special moments and there where many, enough to fill the void. Yes, the void that is in my heart now that she’s not here. After all today has enough pain all on it’s own. It’s just to much to bear yesterdays and today’s. If all I thought about what wasn’t and isn’t I would have no room for what is. What is good, what is worth remembering. I would not be able to love deeply and that’s all I really want to do anymore. I don’t want to miss a second of giving or receiving love. Living in pain is like putting a wall around yourself. A wall so high that not only you can’t climb over but those who want to be with you can not climb over either. No, I just can’t take that risk anymore. I choose love, I choose good memories, I choose laughter instead of hate and tears. I’ve cried enough tears. So have you. I know I am not alone. There are so many wounded souls out there. I can see your faces as I write. I can hear your hurt. We have cried on each others shoulders. I will always be there for you. You don’t have to climb any walls. I will listen. I will comfort you as only someone who has been there can. I can do this now because I have room where nothing but pain use to live. It’s funny because now it’s so much easier. Choosing to let go instead of being told to let go makes all the difference in the world.
I buried the hurt with my mom’s ashes, that part of her is gone. I kept the laughter, the love and the devotion out. I’m keeping that for myself. I don’t think she minds at all. In fact some day’s I can see her smile and almost feel her kissing my forehead. That's the mom I want to remember. That's the mom I do remember.

Daddy's Little Girl

Cassidy and Chris came over the other day. Sometimes they just like to hang out together. Chris walks in with Cassidy on his hip and a pink diaper bag hanging from his arm. He's so comfortable. He looks so natural. He puts her down and gets on his knees and takes off her pink coat and her pink fluffy hat. He talks to her. She smiles her special smile for him alone. She's got her daddy wrapped around her little finger, she knows it, he knows it and the both love it. You can see it in their eyes as if they are dancing to a tune all of their own.
It kind of reminds me of snow globe. I can look in as they share their special moment but I can't be a part of this world. It's not mine to have. It belongs to a daddy and his little girl.
I watch in wonder. When did this happen? When did my son become a little girl's Knight in Shining Armor. When did he put away footballs for baby dolls and teddy bears?
She seems to have a glow about her as she butters him up. He melts. I melt watching them. She crawls up on the couch and sits next to him. Her little legs dangling off the couch. She gives him her baby doll to hug and he does and gives her baby a kiss too. The football game is on but his focus is on his little Pink Princess. The ball is definitely in her hands now. She got the home field advantage.
You know as I raised a son I could never image a moment like this. No, this is something you just experience for the first time.
I'm so proud of Chris. He's turning into such a wonderful daddy. Often we talk about life and how it can be such a struggle at times. Yet Chris will say to me " All I have to do is look at my daughter and I know I have it all. He tells me that he's the lucky one." Sure he would like to have this or that. He wish he could give Cassidy so much more, he wants her to have everything but he knows already that love is what she really needs. Love is what she'll remember. That he can give her. He knows how. It's free.

Valentine Day

I bought these Roses for myself today. I thought they where so beautiful and at $1.99 quite a bargin.

Only twelve more days to Valentine's Day. I know, I even count the days.Many would call me pathetic. My windows are covered with hearts and lights. This is big for me. This is important stuff. While I'm driving I look for other houses that reflect the same passion that I have for this day. When I see hearts and lights in their windows I nod with a knowing nod and smile.
Yes, Valentine Day is my favorite holiday. Many don't consider it a holiday but I do. When I first told my husband that Valentine Day is my favorite holiday he rolled his eyes. As they say timing is everything and I told him right after Christmas. His reply was "You just love getting gifts. Everyday is your favorite holiday". This is not true. My love for this day started a long time ago.
When I was alittle girl we use to give Valentine's to each other in school. We use to make pockets to hang on our desk like a little mailbox. It seemed that the most popular kids got the most Valentines. I was not that kid...ever! I was very shy for most of my school years. I had friends but not alot of them. Sometimes I would feel bad if I didn't get a Valentine from someone I secretly admired or wanted to be friends with. I know most who read this had the same experience. I know now that most of us our pretty much the same. I know I wasn't the only kid picked last on the team just the only one in my grade at my school!
My time with my dad was only for a few years here and there. Yet, my love for roses and for Valentine's Day is because of him. He grew the most beautiful roses in our back yard and he remembered Valentine's Day. He would give my mom, sister and me a small box of candy in a heart shaped box. I thought this was the best, much better than getting a Valentine card from some kid at school. It didn't matter for at least that day if I belonged because on Valentine Day I belonged to the girls group at home. My dad saw us as his girls and I was part of that group. I would keep that little heart shaped box long after the few chocolates where eaten. I would decorate it and keep little treasures in it and every time I opened it I would smell the chocolate.
Even now, 35 years later when I see those little boxes and the smell the chocolate in them it brings me back to that time. It was a day or maybe just a moment when my life was good and I felt loved. I felt loved by my dad. It's sort of sad but I didn't really know him well. I didn't share the bond with him that I think many girls share with their fathers. He came back into my life when I was around eight or nine after a four year absence. I was unsure of him and just because I called him dad it did not make me love him. It just doesn't work that way. He was a stranger. So I think I spend the next few years that he was alive somewhat afraid and at a slight distance from him. What I find most interesting about this relationship is that so much of who I am and what I like about myself is from him. I have so many of his gifts, talents and even personality. How does this happen? I know I was aware of who he was, what he was doing but is this also something you are born with? I don't know. He died when I was fifteen three days after Valentine's Day.
I think that this day is so important to me because I want to know that I am loved in a special way. I want to feel like that little girl again. I also want others to know how special they are. I want to let them know that they are unique and loved. That somebody does see them. They are not just a face in the crowd. They matter.
God, our true father sees us like this. I hear he loves us like every day is Valentine Day. He doesn't give us a heart shape box of chocolates but he does give us his heart. He sees us everyday as his little girls (and boys) and we do belong to the group. His family.
I still have a hard time believing that God does love me like this. I am trying but somethings go so deep but I know that this is why I try to make others feel loved and wanted. I don't want anyone to walk away from me wondering if they are good enough and loved.
Happy Valentine's Day to each one of you. All of the loves in my life. You make my world. You are my best gifts. You are like a bouquet of the most beautiful and fragrant roses ever grown.