It's the eve of Christmas Eve and as I look out of my office onto the bustling interstate, I imagine all those cars sitting in that disastrous traffic are either a) headed to Grandma's house for the holiday or b) headed to the mall to finish their shopping. We will do neither this holiday season. Am I sad, a little. I have always gone above and beyond during the holidays, choosing thoughtful gifts for friends and family and always going all out for Trouper and the kids. This year, I did neither. Yes, I bought the kids a gift (one a piece) but Trouper and I won't be exchanging gifts; our gift is ongoing and is the gift of time.
Financially, we struggle but that's pretty typical of families with chronically ill/terminal patients. Tons of medicine, weekly doctor visits, supplies, special equipment and even special food literally drain our bank account. This is on top of the standard bills; mortgage, cars, insurance, utilities and done on only one salary. I am in a consistent state of robbing Peter to pay Paul and have become a master juggler; keeping my job, Trouper, house, kids, animals, family, doctors, hospitals, schedules, bills and every other need my family has in the air all at once. I do all of it because I love the three of them; Trouper, Ryan and Emily, more than the breath I breathe and I would do anything for them. So this Christmas, I won't feel sorry for us and what we don't have but rather rejoice in what we do have; each other. This has been a very difficult and yes, I realize I say that every year but this one has hit us hard. Trouper's quest for a heart transplant is a roller coaster, Emily was diagnosed with Crohn's Disease, and I was hospitalized twice with my pancreas disorder. Poor Ryan is the only semi healthy one of the bunch! But would I trade one day, no because through it all, we were together, a family of misfits that fit perfectly together.
This is my Christmas letter to all my friends and family, our year sucked but there were good moments. Emily continues to amaze us with her wonderful grades (ended 1st semester of her sophomore year with a 3.3) and positive attitude even though she has to take shots once a month and continues to deal with chronic pain. She was elected into a leadership position with her sorority and hopes to intern with a charity over the summer. Ryan is an amazing young man, continues to live at home and be in the "trenches" with me. He's working for a national car dealership and he's assumed a lot of responsibility for a young man but continues to impress me with his caring nature. In the new year, he's headed into an acting program and he gets more handsome by the day! Who knows, I might be the Mom of an Academy Award winner someday! Trouper's health was a roller coaster in 2014, just a few weeks ago they told us there wasn't much hope and we wouldn't be getting a new heart. New medicines, some LVAD "tweaking" and LOTS and LOTS of prayer have turned that around and we look forward to announcing a new heart in 2015! As for me, well, I still get up every morning and go to work, I still listen to talk radio and devour all news, especially entertainment news. I still love trashy reality TV but this year I've also learned to love scripted TV like Sons of Anarchy and Orange is the New Black. Oh ya, and I still have three people to hug, who, every once and a while, are all under the same roof at the same time. The true meaning of Christmas this year, my family!
Tuesday, December 23, 2014
Sunday, December 14, 2014
Hospital Waiting Room
Hospital waiting rooms encompass the highs of life, those delicious moments of life that you never forget and the lowest of the low moments, the moments when your life is changed forever and usually for the worst. Last week, as I sat in the ICU waiting room, I looked around and realized our family had experienced all of them, and right in the waiting room of Piedmont Hospital.
I've lost count of the number of times I've sat in that hospital waiting room over the past few years but I can tell you I hate it. I hate the magazines, hate the color of the chairs and deplore the smell. I imagine it to be the smell of fear, sadness and anxiety all rolled into one. I also hate how doctors relay good news right there in front of everyone but take families back into the small, colorless room when they need to relay bad news. Somehow it doesn't seem fair. The families in the waiting room form a bond, and should experience all the news; good news and bad news, together.
When Trouper first had his heart attack and was in a coma, I remember being in the waiting room and not being able to breath. I felt like I was suffocating and every time a nurse, PA or doctor came out, looked around for a family, I felt as if I was going to collapse, waiting to hear our name. When our name was called, I often didn't have the clarity to ask questions, usually just nodding or mumbling something incoherent. I got better, got more organized and started writing my questions down in between visits with the hospital staff and day by day, no hour by hour, the visits became better.
That's how the past two years have been for me, I've had to learn to cling to clarity, learn to organize my thoughts and above all, remember to breath. The waiting room at Piedmont has been my teacher, my guide and taught me all those things. Am I thrilled to be sitting there, sick at my stomach with worry? No. Am I thankful to be sitting there, waiting on good news in front of everyone or even bad news in the little room? Yes. Having the privilege of being in the waiting room means that we are still a family of four. That Ryan and Emily can still ask Dad for advice, I can still hold his hand and feel like I'm the most beautiful woman in the world and our family is together. So, even though I loathe being there, I cherish it as well. Guess the waiting room is the true definition of a double entendre.
I've lost count of the number of times I've sat in that hospital waiting room over the past few years but I can tell you I hate it. I hate the magazines, hate the color of the chairs and deplore the smell. I imagine it to be the smell of fear, sadness and anxiety all rolled into one. I also hate how doctors relay good news right there in front of everyone but take families back into the small, colorless room when they need to relay bad news. Somehow it doesn't seem fair. The families in the waiting room form a bond, and should experience all the news; good news and bad news, together.
When Trouper first had his heart attack and was in a coma, I remember being in the waiting room and not being able to breath. I felt like I was suffocating and every time a nurse, PA or doctor came out, looked around for a family, I felt as if I was going to collapse, waiting to hear our name. When our name was called, I often didn't have the clarity to ask questions, usually just nodding or mumbling something incoherent. I got better, got more organized and started writing my questions down in between visits with the hospital staff and day by day, no hour by hour, the visits became better.
That's how the past two years have been for me, I've had to learn to cling to clarity, learn to organize my thoughts and above all, remember to breath. The waiting room at Piedmont has been my teacher, my guide and taught me all those things. Am I thrilled to be sitting there, sick at my stomach with worry? No. Am I thankful to be sitting there, waiting on good news in front of everyone or even bad news in the little room? Yes. Having the privilege of being in the waiting room means that we are still a family of four. That Ryan and Emily can still ask Dad for advice, I can still hold his hand and feel like I'm the most beautiful woman in the world and our family is together. So, even though I loathe being there, I cherish it as well. Guess the waiting room is the true definition of a double entendre.
Wednesday, September 10, 2014
Signs, Signs, Everywhere the Signs
There's a fairly famous quote that says "Perhaps they aren't stars in the sky but rather openings where our loved ones shine down and let us know they are happy". I like to think that our loved ones don't only shine down but also leave signs for us, signs that let us know they are still around, still a presence in our life.
In my 42 years, I've experienced the loss of family and friends and I've also experienced things that can't be explained. Things that I like to think are signs that they are still hanging around, still involved in my life. Often, these signs come just when I need them, often during moments of utter despair. My brother is famous for sending me signs. Typically, it's the song "Free Falling" and just like magic, when I need a pick me up, it comes on the radio. When Emily was contemplating getting a tattoo (and in the car headed to the tattoo parlor) to honor her Uncle Bumper, Free Falling comes on the radio. Every September 11th and November 1st at some point, I know I will either hear John Mayer or Tom Petty singing our song.
This past week, as Trouper and I flew home to say goodbye to our favorite little guy Jackson, we were marveling at the beautiful cloud formations. Then, Trouper spotted an elephant cloud, complete with a curled trunk and big, floppy ears. It was precious, but didn't really mean too much until on Saturday, when my sister mentioned (without knowing we had seen the elephant cloud) that elephants had become Jackson's theme. People had sent them stuffed elephants, picture frames with elephants, flower arrangements with elephants and a host of other things. It hit Trouper and I at the same time, our baby Jackson was sending a sign, a sign letting us know he will always be near us, watching and waiting until we are all together again. We both cried at the sweet reminder that life is precious and often, way too short. It reminded me of my favorite, silly 'ole Bear, Pooh: "If ever there comes a day that we can't be together, keep me in your heart, I will stay there forever"
In my 42 years, I've experienced the loss of family and friends and I've also experienced things that can't be explained. Things that I like to think are signs that they are still hanging around, still involved in my life. Often, these signs come just when I need them, often during moments of utter despair. My brother is famous for sending me signs. Typically, it's the song "Free Falling" and just like magic, when I need a pick me up, it comes on the radio. When Emily was contemplating getting a tattoo (and in the car headed to the tattoo parlor) to honor her Uncle Bumper, Free Falling comes on the radio. Every September 11th and November 1st at some point, I know I will either hear John Mayer or Tom Petty singing our song.
This past week, as Trouper and I flew home to say goodbye to our favorite little guy Jackson, we were marveling at the beautiful cloud formations. Then, Trouper spotted an elephant cloud, complete with a curled trunk and big, floppy ears. It was precious, but didn't really mean too much until on Saturday, when my sister mentioned (without knowing we had seen the elephant cloud) that elephants had become Jackson's theme. People had sent them stuffed elephants, picture frames with elephants, flower arrangements with elephants and a host of other things. It hit Trouper and I at the same time, our baby Jackson was sending a sign, a sign letting us know he will always be near us, watching and waiting until we are all together again. We both cried at the sweet reminder that life is precious and often, way too short. It reminded me of my favorite, silly 'ole Bear, Pooh: "If ever there comes a day that we can't be together, keep me in your heart, I will stay there forever"
No need to worry baby Jax, you will be in my heart until I take my last breath, and then, we will be together forever!
Wednesday, August 13, 2014
Celebrating 42
42. I think I am more sad turning 42 then I was 40 and I couldn't exactly put my finger on it until I realized I remember my own mother turning 42 just a few, short years ago (20 to be exact). Half my life ago, on my 21st birthday, I celebrated as any 21 year old would, I headed to the liquor store to make a (finally legal) purchase. Much to my dismay, the cashier didn't even card me. I stood there, relishing my new legal age, anxiously ready to pull my drivers license out but alas, he just bagged my wine coolers, took my money and waived me off. I was furious and stomped out to the car where Amy waited for my fabulous take on finally being able to purchase alcohol but instead, laughed hysterically when I confessed I wasn't even carded.
These days aren't much different, I relish getting carded but not because I'm anxious to flash my age but because I'm happy someone thinks I'm still slightly young. Alas, I'm not. I've lived 15,330 days and I've filled those 15K days with love, laughter, sadness, heartbreak and joy. I've been there as a new soul enters this world, and held someone's hand while they departed this earth for a new heavenly home. I've lived through wars, witnessed history, experienced phenomenal music, remarkable movies and awe-inspiring books. I've tried to be the best wife, mother, daughter, sister and friend I possibly could. In the end; I've lived, I've loved, I've lost, I've missed, I've hurt, I've trusted and I've made mistakes but most of all, I've learned. I can't change anything that has happened in the past so I need to forgive, let go and move on. That includes one of the hardest things, forgiving myself.
As I celebrate my 42nd trip around the sun, I pray that my eyes always see the best, my heart always loves and forgives, my mind forgets the worst, and that I have a soul that never loses faith in God. I also celebrate my wonderful husband, who is the true definition of a miracle and has loved me since I was 13 years old. My kids, who allowed me to make horrible mistakes as a Mom but always loved me despite my screw ups. My Mom, who is still the first person I call when I need help, and would drop everything to help her family. My Dad, who always gives sound advice, and never judges. My beautiful sister who is struggling right now and learning that being a Mom is the hardest job in the world, no matter if your baby is still in the womb, or 22. And last, all my friends and family, who've loved me during the good times and even more during the bad times.
42...here I come!
These days aren't much different, I relish getting carded but not because I'm anxious to flash my age but because I'm happy someone thinks I'm still slightly young. Alas, I'm not. I've lived 15,330 days and I've filled those 15K days with love, laughter, sadness, heartbreak and joy. I've been there as a new soul enters this world, and held someone's hand while they departed this earth for a new heavenly home. I've lived through wars, witnessed history, experienced phenomenal music, remarkable movies and awe-inspiring books. I've tried to be the best wife, mother, daughter, sister and friend I possibly could. In the end; I've lived, I've loved, I've lost, I've missed, I've hurt, I've trusted and I've made mistakes but most of all, I've learned. I can't change anything that has happened in the past so I need to forgive, let go and move on. That includes one of the hardest things, forgiving myself.
As I celebrate my 42nd trip around the sun, I pray that my eyes always see the best, my heart always loves and forgives, my mind forgets the worst, and that I have a soul that never loses faith in God. I also celebrate my wonderful husband, who is the true definition of a miracle and has loved me since I was 13 years old. My kids, who allowed me to make horrible mistakes as a Mom but always loved me despite my screw ups. My Mom, who is still the first person I call when I need help, and would drop everything to help her family. My Dad, who always gives sound advice, and never judges. My beautiful sister who is struggling right now and learning that being a Mom is the hardest job in the world, no matter if your baby is still in the womb, or 22. And last, all my friends and family, who've loved me during the good times and even more during the bad times.
42...here I come!
Tuesday, July 15, 2014
Happy
What is the happiest you've ever been? What's your definition of happy? Are you happy at least once every day?
If we're lucky, we get 90 plus years to be happy or make our happiness but unfortunately, 90 years isn't always given to everyone. My brother left this world for another one when he was 29 and I often wonder who much happiness he experienced in his 29 years. It doesn't take long for me to remember all the practical jokes he played, especially on Emily and Ryan, and the laughs we always shared when we were together. The Christmas after he passed away, Trouper, Ryan, Kyna and Shannon decided to carry on Bumper's practical joke legacy and rearrange Christmas decorations in my Mom's neighborhood, most in "naughty" poses. It was quite comical, although Mom was afraid she'd be fired from the neighborhood board association if her fellow neighbors knew her family were Christmas decoration hoodlums.
Recently, Emily said something to me that made me think about my own life. She said she wants to experience one moment of happiness a day. She didn't say she wants to live a happy life just that she wants one moment, one pure moment of happiness daily. At first, it made me a little sad to think she didn't want her days to be filled with happy but then I realized my daughter is a realist and even at 18 (she will be 19 next week) she understands that life isn't a bowl of cherries. Bad things happen to good people, sad times occur, and being happy 24/7 isn't realistic. In the end, that's what I want for all my friends and family; one genuinely happy moment everyday.
That doesn't mean we can't have exuberant moments of happiness. The ones that are so sweet they cause cavities. You might be wondering what this has to do with Trouper, since my blog is supposed to be about Super Trouper. One of my happiest, most delicious memories just happens to be one he experienced "when he was sleeping". I have asked him numerous times to write a blog entry about his experiences but he keeps resisting. I will let you know that his 9 days post heart attack "sleeping", he experienced or re-experienced different memories, ones throughout his life. Yes, he was fortunate enough to visit with loved ones who've left this earth, and I sometimes envy the time he got to spend with my jokester brother. I digress. He got to relive our visit to the Happiest Place on Earth, Disney World. When Emily was 6 and Ryan was 10, we took a summer vacation to Orlando. Ryan, being a boy and a little older, wasn't that excited to visit Mickey and Company. He was over the moon happy we were going to visit GatorLand. Trust me, that was an adventure and I pray I never have to witness hundreds of Gator's fighting over some food again. My best memory, however, was when we entered the Magic Kingdom. We were already exhausted from fighting the crowds of people on the trains, hauling around backpacks in the sweltering Florida morning. When we entered the gates, we were in awe of the castle that stands in the background. Emily saw her first real life Princess and was in pure heaven. Ryan, however, was ready to leave and head back to the magical land of fighting gators. However, the carriage that had just dropped off the princess caught his attention. More over, the horse pulling the carriage caught his eye. He mentioned to us how pretty the horse was, and how big. Just then, as we all gazed at the horse, the massive animal relived himself. No, he didn't urinate, he pooped all over the ground. It was massive, and it smelled horribly. We laughed. All four of us until we cried. We had spent months anxiously anticipating our grand adventure and the moment we were about to experience what we thought was going to be pure joy, a horse took a crap. Almost like saying "welcome, this place isn't all it's cracked up to be". To this day, that memory, the moment all four of us laughed until we cried, stands out to me and makes me smile. I think of it often, and I guess Trouper does too. He dreamed of that moment, or he relived it, I'm not sure which but it's one that obviously brings him happiness.
So my friends, we don't all get 90 years of joy and happy but we do get happiness in this life. Sometimes it just takes some horse crap to make you happy.
If we're lucky, we get 90 plus years to be happy or make our happiness but unfortunately, 90 years isn't always given to everyone. My brother left this world for another one when he was 29 and I often wonder who much happiness he experienced in his 29 years. It doesn't take long for me to remember all the practical jokes he played, especially on Emily and Ryan, and the laughs we always shared when we were together. The Christmas after he passed away, Trouper, Ryan, Kyna and Shannon decided to carry on Bumper's practical joke legacy and rearrange Christmas decorations in my Mom's neighborhood, most in "naughty" poses. It was quite comical, although Mom was afraid she'd be fired from the neighborhood board association if her fellow neighbors knew her family were Christmas decoration hoodlums.
Recently, Emily said something to me that made me think about my own life. She said she wants to experience one moment of happiness a day. She didn't say she wants to live a happy life just that she wants one moment, one pure moment of happiness daily. At first, it made me a little sad to think she didn't want her days to be filled with happy but then I realized my daughter is a realist and even at 18 (she will be 19 next week) she understands that life isn't a bowl of cherries. Bad things happen to good people, sad times occur, and being happy 24/7 isn't realistic. In the end, that's what I want for all my friends and family; one genuinely happy moment everyday.
That doesn't mean we can't have exuberant moments of happiness. The ones that are so sweet they cause cavities. You might be wondering what this has to do with Trouper, since my blog is supposed to be about Super Trouper. One of my happiest, most delicious memories just happens to be one he experienced "when he was sleeping". I have asked him numerous times to write a blog entry about his experiences but he keeps resisting. I will let you know that his 9 days post heart attack "sleeping", he experienced or re-experienced different memories, ones throughout his life. Yes, he was fortunate enough to visit with loved ones who've left this earth, and I sometimes envy the time he got to spend with my jokester brother. I digress. He got to relive our visit to the Happiest Place on Earth, Disney World. When Emily was 6 and Ryan was 10, we took a summer vacation to Orlando. Ryan, being a boy and a little older, wasn't that excited to visit Mickey and Company. He was over the moon happy we were going to visit GatorLand. Trust me, that was an adventure and I pray I never have to witness hundreds of Gator's fighting over some food again. My best memory, however, was when we entered the Magic Kingdom. We were already exhausted from fighting the crowds of people on the trains, hauling around backpacks in the sweltering Florida morning. When we entered the gates, we were in awe of the castle that stands in the background. Emily saw her first real life Princess and was in pure heaven. Ryan, however, was ready to leave and head back to the magical land of fighting gators. However, the carriage that had just dropped off the princess caught his attention. More over, the horse pulling the carriage caught his eye. He mentioned to us how pretty the horse was, and how big. Just then, as we all gazed at the horse, the massive animal relived himself. No, he didn't urinate, he pooped all over the ground. It was massive, and it smelled horribly. We laughed. All four of us until we cried. We had spent months anxiously anticipating our grand adventure and the moment we were about to experience what we thought was going to be pure joy, a horse took a crap. Almost like saying "welcome, this place isn't all it's cracked up to be". To this day, that memory, the moment all four of us laughed until we cried, stands out to me and makes me smile. I think of it often, and I guess Trouper does too. He dreamed of that moment, or he relived it, I'm not sure which but it's one that obviously brings him happiness.
So my friends, we don't all get 90 years of joy and happy but we do get happiness in this life. Sometimes it just takes some horse crap to make you happy.
Thursday, July 3, 2014
Just like the Jeffersons, we are movin' on up!
Happy 3rd of July! I hope the day before the kaboom holiday finds you happy, healthy and excited for a 3-day weekend!
Last 4th of July, it rained all day. Trouper's Mom Teresa and her friend Cynthia were in town and, since all the firework displays were cancelled, Emily and her crew decided to light up our cul-de-sac during a lull in the rainfall. I expected the neighbors to get upset but they just came out and watched, probably tired of being cooped up in their houses. Anywho, this 4th is different. We really don't have plans, other than trying to get some housework and yard work completed. It's also different because, as of Tuesday, Trouper is listed the highest possible listing for a home bound person on the heart transplant list. His status is officially 1B, and we are elated! This means he is high on the list, there are 9 other 1B's at Piedmont (his transplant center) and he gets to wait out his time at home, where he belongs! The summer holidays are called the trinity for organ donation. It starts with Labor Day, includes 4th of July and concludes with Memorial Day. Unfortunately, this is when many people lose their lives, but fortunately, if their loved ones see fit, their organs go to save the lives of people like our Super Trouper.
We've had a rough few months but this certainly lifted our spirits. I am back to making my lists; who to call, who to text, what to bring, where to go, and how to get there. Thank goodness our Gina will be right behind us as we head to the hospital and I will probably give her the task of contacting and coordinating all our out of towners. I'm sad my sister won't get to be with us, she's pregnant and traveling isn't in her future anytime soon but I know she will be there in spirit and we will eat a grilled cheese sandwich from Doris in the cafeteria and visit Au Bon Pain for brownies and cookies in her honor. I know my Dad and family and Kim and Jay and family will be there, pacing and waiting with us. Are we apprehensive about the surgery, yes. Last weekend we talked about the complexity and the actual drawbacks of the transplant versus the LVAD but we are firm in our decision that a transplant is best for Trouper. Last week, we watched a documentary about the black market for kidneys. When people said they had been listed for eight to ten years, I cried. I can't imagine the agony of waiting that long. We are nearing a year (with Trouper inactive because of the LVAD for 9 months) but each day is so stressful, I can't imagine ten years!
So, as you celebrate the day of independence, celebrate a little for Super Trouper. Hopefully his independence from wires, batteries, tubes and bandages is right around the corner. Also, when you say your prayers, I'm certain we are already included but please include our donor as well. Their family is about to go through the most difficult thing they will ever go through, losing a loved one way too soon. I understand their pain. However, without organ donation there is no story, no hope, no transplant. But when there is an organ donor, life springs from death, sorrow turns to hope and a terrible loss becomes a gift. Happy 4th friends and family!
Last 4th of July, it rained all day. Trouper's Mom Teresa and her friend Cynthia were in town and, since all the firework displays were cancelled, Emily and her crew decided to light up our cul-de-sac during a lull in the rainfall. I expected the neighbors to get upset but they just came out and watched, probably tired of being cooped up in their houses. Anywho, this 4th is different. We really don't have plans, other than trying to get some housework and yard work completed. It's also different because, as of Tuesday, Trouper is listed the highest possible listing for a home bound person on the heart transplant list. His status is officially 1B, and we are elated! This means he is high on the list, there are 9 other 1B's at Piedmont (his transplant center) and he gets to wait out his time at home, where he belongs! The summer holidays are called the trinity for organ donation. It starts with Labor Day, includes 4th of July and concludes with Memorial Day. Unfortunately, this is when many people lose their lives, but fortunately, if their loved ones see fit, their organs go to save the lives of people like our Super Trouper.
We've had a rough few months but this certainly lifted our spirits. I am back to making my lists; who to call, who to text, what to bring, where to go, and how to get there. Thank goodness our Gina will be right behind us as we head to the hospital and I will probably give her the task of contacting and coordinating all our out of towners. I'm sad my sister won't get to be with us, she's pregnant and traveling isn't in her future anytime soon but I know she will be there in spirit and we will eat a grilled cheese sandwich from Doris in the cafeteria and visit Au Bon Pain for brownies and cookies in her honor. I know my Dad and family and Kim and Jay and family will be there, pacing and waiting with us. Are we apprehensive about the surgery, yes. Last weekend we talked about the complexity and the actual drawbacks of the transplant versus the LVAD but we are firm in our decision that a transplant is best for Trouper. Last week, we watched a documentary about the black market for kidneys. When people said they had been listed for eight to ten years, I cried. I can't imagine the agony of waiting that long. We are nearing a year (with Trouper inactive because of the LVAD for 9 months) but each day is so stressful, I can't imagine ten years!
So, as you celebrate the day of independence, celebrate a little for Super Trouper. Hopefully his independence from wires, batteries, tubes and bandages is right around the corner. Also, when you say your prayers, I'm certain we are already included but please include our donor as well. Their family is about to go through the most difficult thing they will ever go through, losing a loved one way too soon. I understand their pain. However, without organ donation there is no story, no hope, no transplant. But when there is an organ donor, life springs from death, sorrow turns to hope and a terrible loss becomes a gift. Happy 4th friends and family!
Saturday, June 14, 2014
The Dad's in my life
Tomorrow is Father's Day so in honor of the Dad's that have shaped my life, I would like to tell you a little about these amazing men and the amazing legacy they have bestowed upon me and my kids.
First, the most amazing Dad in the entire universe, my husband and Ryan and Emily's Dad, Trouper. When we married, he became an instant Dad at 19 years old. While this isn't that unusual in the day and age of Teen Mom but in an instant, he embodied the quote "Any man can be a Father but it takes someone special to be a Dad". He took to being a Dad a lot better than I took to being a Mom. It was like he was always destined to be a Dad. He's given the kids his heart, and taught them everything from their love of diverse music, to how to format a hard drive. He's patient, and even when they mess up and make a mistake (as all kids do), he makes sure to throw some humor into his lecture on life and screwing up, and makes sure they know that all mistakes are fixable and the true measure of a person is the way you pick yourself up after that screw up.
When my Mom started dating my now Stepdad David, I was a little less than thrilled. I didn't live near them so I didn't know how special their relationship was and, to be honest, I felt they were moving a little too fast. Yes, they had dated in high school, and yes, had known one another for 40 years, but my Mom is my Mom, and had been through a tough time and I wanted her to be careful. But, marrying David and bringing him into our family was the best decision my Mom ever had, well deciding to have three kids was actual the best but David was a close second. He's held my Mom together, and seen our family through some tough times. He's a man of God, and I know he prays for each of us daily. He's the rock my Mom needed, and it doesn't hurt that he has a hearing aid and can turn it down when we visit and storm through the house at all hours of day and night.
My Papa. I can't think of him without crying. I miss him day and night and I'm saddened that my babies didn't get to know him but I see glimpses of him in them. He loved his family unconditionally and taught me that love knows no bounds. He was quiet, but silly. He loved western's and I spent endless Saturday afternoons watching old westerns with him. He loved peanuts and always kept some by his place on the sofa and was the neighborhood Mr. Fix-It. He sat for hours on his front porch, fixing everything from bicycles to lawnmowers and even a car here and there. When he left this earth, in September of 1991, my life changed. He had been sick for a long time, and even though his pain was finally over, I wanted to be selfish and have him here with me. There are some days when I can still hear his voice, and still see him sitting up, waiting for me to come home on a Friday night. Precious memories about the most precious man that ever walked this earth.
Divorce is war, and the children are usually among the causalities or so we were in my parent's divorce. My parents married young, in a time when that's what you did, and were mismatched from the start. Part of me often wonders if they ever really loved one another, or if they were just victims of "teenage love". Nonetheless, they divorced when I was 5 and my Dad became the summer/weekend dad. Because of this, I truly never got the chance to know my Dad until I was an adult. When we moved to Georgia, part of the reason was so I could get to know him and when I did, I found out my Dad is a really nice guy. He's funny, and tells the best stories. He's easy to talk to and no matter what happens, takes it with a grain of salt. He shows up when I need him and was the only Grandpa at cheerleading competitions. He doesn't judge, and although I've often wondered where I fit in with his family (him and my Stepmom had two sons) he never let me feel unloved or out of place with him. I'm so glad I've gotten to know him, and know that if I ever want to talk about the history of Texas Longhorn football, he's my Man!
First, the most amazing Dad in the entire universe, my husband and Ryan and Emily's Dad, Trouper. When we married, he became an instant Dad at 19 years old. While this isn't that unusual in the day and age of Teen Mom but in an instant, he embodied the quote "Any man can be a Father but it takes someone special to be a Dad". He took to being a Dad a lot better than I took to being a Mom. It was like he was always destined to be a Dad. He's given the kids his heart, and taught them everything from their love of diverse music, to how to format a hard drive. He's patient, and even when they mess up and make a mistake (as all kids do), he makes sure to throw some humor into his lecture on life and screwing up, and makes sure they know that all mistakes are fixable and the true measure of a person is the way you pick yourself up after that screw up.
When my Mom started dating my now Stepdad David, I was a little less than thrilled. I didn't live near them so I didn't know how special their relationship was and, to be honest, I felt they were moving a little too fast. Yes, they had dated in high school, and yes, had known one another for 40 years, but my Mom is my Mom, and had been through a tough time and I wanted her to be careful. But, marrying David and bringing him into our family was the best decision my Mom ever had, well deciding to have three kids was actual the best but David was a close second. He's held my Mom together, and seen our family through some tough times. He's a man of God, and I know he prays for each of us daily. He's the rock my Mom needed, and it doesn't hurt that he has a hearing aid and can turn it down when we visit and storm through the house at all hours of day and night.
My Papa. I can't think of him without crying. I miss him day and night and I'm saddened that my babies didn't get to know him but I see glimpses of him in them. He loved his family unconditionally and taught me that love knows no bounds. He was quiet, but silly. He loved western's and I spent endless Saturday afternoons watching old westerns with him. He loved peanuts and always kept some by his place on the sofa and was the neighborhood Mr. Fix-It. He sat for hours on his front porch, fixing everything from bicycles to lawnmowers and even a car here and there. When he left this earth, in September of 1991, my life changed. He had been sick for a long time, and even though his pain was finally over, I wanted to be selfish and have him here with me. There are some days when I can still hear his voice, and still see him sitting up, waiting for me to come home on a Friday night. Precious memories about the most precious man that ever walked this earth.
Divorce is war, and the children are usually among the causalities or so we were in my parent's divorce. My parents married young, in a time when that's what you did, and were mismatched from the start. Part of me often wonders if they ever really loved one another, or if they were just victims of "teenage love". Nonetheless, they divorced when I was 5 and my Dad became the summer/weekend dad. Because of this, I truly never got the chance to know my Dad until I was an adult. When we moved to Georgia, part of the reason was so I could get to know him and when I did, I found out my Dad is a really nice guy. He's funny, and tells the best stories. He's easy to talk to and no matter what happens, takes it with a grain of salt. He shows up when I need him and was the only Grandpa at cheerleading competitions. He doesn't judge, and although I've often wondered where I fit in with his family (him and my Stepmom had two sons) he never let me feel unloved or out of place with him. I'm so glad I've gotten to know him, and know that if I ever want to talk about the history of Texas Longhorn football, he's my Man!
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