Unexpected Life Changes

So, I recently wrote about our new eating plan, and I'd intended to do post on the oil cleanse method, which has revolutionized my skin. But life had other plans. Unexpected plans.

My great uncle J.H. passed away. In April, he'd been diagnosed with kidney cancer, and by June, he was gone. While it wasn't quite as unexpected and out-of-the-blue as my PaPa's death, it was still so fast. Too fast. When PaPa died, I wondered if it would have been easier to have known and have had some warning. But now I know. You're never ready. We're never ready to let go of the people we love.

J.H. was my Mema's (grandma) brother. So, he's technically my great uncle, though I've only ever called him Uncle J.H. Uncle J.H. and Aunt Bobbie. Their names have always flowed together as one, like Mema and PaPa. I *still* say Mema and PaPa, and it's been almost a year. I can't think of one without the other, and the same goes for Uncle J.H. and Aunt Bobbie.

Y'all, I've always admired Uncle J.H. He carried himself in such a stately manner, like if you looked in the dictionary under "Southern gentleman," you'd find his picture. But he was also down-to-earth, always asking about other people and being genuinely interested in their answers. He was one of a kind, and the world--our family--has truly lost another bright light.

Deek often comes up with these great analogies for things, but at first, you don't see the connection. So, he always starts with "Hang with me for a minute." I'm going to say that now. Hang with me for a minute, and you'll see where this is going...

This morning, I envisioned our family like a Light Bright picture (see...hang with me here). Does anyone remember those? I think they actually still sell them.

Each member is a light that makes up the amazing picture that is my family. And slowly, over time, some of those lights go out. MaMa (my great-grandmother), PaPa's brothers and sister, cousins, PaPa, and now Uncle J.H. Sometimes lights come into the picture, when babies are born or when people get married, but never in the same place as the lights that went out. Those are not replaceable.

This Light Bright picture of our family is ever changing. One image is not more beautiful than the next, just different. But when you're like me and remember the original picture--the one with everyone who's gone--you miss it. You yearn to see it, and them, just one more time. 

But the truth is...that's not the original image, is it? That's the new picture that changed when the people before us--PaPa, his brothers and sisters, Uncle J.H.--lost their own loved ones. The image I feel is the "original" came only when other lights faded. I bet PaPa and Uncle J.H. missed their "original" Light Bright family pictures too. I bet they stood where the rest of my family is standing today...mired in grief and sadness. Missing. Longing. Wishing.

Yet PaPa and Uncle J.H. kept shining. And we should too. Instead of thinking their light has gone out, we should imagine it has been transferred--to the rest of us. It's up to us now to shine as brightly as we can. This family Light Bright picture may not be the one we remember, but it's beautiful too. It's infused with the lights of so many generations. 

It's a legacy. A proud, deep legacy.

So This Is Christmas...

Hey y'all!! Deek and I have been crazy busy, so the blog is a little lacking. I got a last minute, end-of-the-year editing project, and I'm been heads down focusing on that amidst the normal Christmas fray. Meanwhile, Deek has bee busy editing my still nameless Molly and Ryder story!

But I'm happy to report that we are completely done with our Christmas shopping (and came in *under* budget--YAY Dave Ramsey)! So, now we can relax and enjoy the holiday festivities until the Big Day arrives.

We went on a holiday lights tour and had a blast!

This will be my first Christmas without PaPa, and I must admit, I'm having trouble getting into the jolliness of the season. See, not only is PaPa gone but things are changing because of it. Our annual family Christmas Day gathering will be no more. Thanksgiving and Easter will be at someone else's house, if they continue at all. All these traditions which so defined my childhood, my life, are slipping away. I've always partially defined myself by the big ole, loving Southern family I come from. Without spending time with them at every holiday, a big part of me is changing, forever altered. I know I'll still see them, but it will be different. I'm usually one who can roll with change pretty well, but I'm having trouble adjusting to this particular one.

Add about a hundred more people, and that's my family...

I hope and pray that the generation before me (my mom's generation) will keep the family gatherings and traditions alive. I'm thankful to my Aunt Tammy and my I-don't-even-know-what-level cousin Marion for offering their homes to ensure the family celebrates Christmas Eve together as we always have. They're stepping up, and I'm beyond grateful that not everything died alongside PaPa. He would be proud of his baby girl for keeping the family together at Christmas. So, a big PaPa thumbs-up to Tammy! <3

Isn't my aunt purty? And my PaPa...oh my PaPa...

Deek and I set aside a budget for Christmas adventures, and we've been enjoying that random sprinkling of fun inside the holiday bustle. We've been keeping up regular traditions and adding news ones as we find them. This is wonderful time of year for traditions, and we're big on that! :)

We miss Portland, so we're trying to get a downtown experience in the South.

It's so not the same, but it'll do for now.

Deek and I got coffee and had a walking Christmas lights date!

Got to sit on the Big Man's lap and make my Christmas wish.

I asked him to keep my whole big family together for the holidays, and he said he'd do his best!

Thanks, Santa!

My hubster surprised me with a lunch date.

I LOVE spending time with this amazing man, y'all!

And we've been checking out Christmas lights at all the local "best spots."

We saw some that have been featured on TV!

Even Shakespeare got in on the lights action!

I don't know if I'll post again before Christmas, or even the week after Christmas since Deek has the whole week off (SQUEE), but I wish you and yours the happiest of holidays!! If you lost someone precious this year, I feel your pain and sorrow. I really and truly do. But gather those you still have into your arms and squeeze them extra tight. Because when you strip away the tinsel, lights, and gifts, Christmas is about family and love. So love on that family of yours with all your might.

And I'll be over here loving on mine. My parents, my Mema, my immediate family, my big ole extended family, and my beloved, beloved Deek! Despite the pain of losing PaPa, I know I'm epically blessed to have my family and Deek's family so full and present in our lives. And that joy will glow inside me--past the pain, past the hustle and bustle--forever!

This man, y'all. This amazing, astounding, out-of-this-world man!

No matter what's going on, we always find a way to laugh.

I love you, my Deek. Now and #always!

Until next time...Happiest of Holidays from our family to yours! 

The First Birthday Without PaPa

Today would have been PaPa's 85th birthday. It's weird because he always said he'd never make it to 85, and he didn't. But I always thought he would. To me, he was invincible. He could do anything--move mountains, climb skyscrapers, anything. He was my PaPa, and I, his Babydoll, adored him.

It's been almost five months since he passed, and I still can't utter his name without choking up. I still can't stand to look at pictures because it still hurts too much. Even though I know he's not coming back, I find myself gazing at "his" chair in his office and at his house and wishing he'd just magically appear there. In fact, I get a little ruffled under the feathers if someone sits there because it's PaPa's chair.

Deek and I were talking recently about when people die and how the people left here are keepers of their memories. And I cried wondering when my generation and the one after me--those who experienced the greatness of PaPa--are gone, who will remember him? I don't want the wonderfulness that is him to fade. And Deek told me that every time I show love, mercy, gratefulness, and generosity, I'm spreading PaPa's spirit to the world. They may not remember him personally, but he'll still leave his mark when I'm kind because he was and someone else is kind because I was. In that same way, PaPa himself spread the light and love of his parents and grandparents to me even though I never knew them.

It's not the same, but it's something. It's a way for me to keep PaPa's memory alive past him, past me, past the generation behind me. I'll tell a few more jokes. Try to live in the present more rather than focus on the future. I'll hug my people every time I see them. I'll pursue my passions and dreams with more gusto. I'll put my nose to the grindstone and work even harder. I'll do my best to show the traits I learned from PaPa, and in doing so, you'll know him a little too. And maybe after I share joke, you'll tell it at a get together, and when people laugh, PaPa will be there. And someone else will tell that same joke, and the cycle continues. Man, PaPa did love a joke. I can still hear his laughter in my head and in my heart.

PaPa had five wonderful brothers and a lovely sister. I can still see each one of their faces and hear their voices in my mind. They understood the meaning of family, and they taught it to all of their children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. I don't want any of them to fade. So, I'm going to post a picture and list all their names so there's a record. And when you see them, I want you to think of your own family--your mother, your brother, your wife, your child--and I want you do something today that shows them you love them. And when you do, these seven people will be there, smiling and laughing because family was everything to them.

Top row, left to right: Stacy, Ed, Harold

Bottom row, left to right: Darwin (PaPa), Wendell, John (aka: Bunky), and Eldred

I love you, PaPa. I miss you, and I always will. I know they say "time heals all wounds" and all that, but I don't think I'll ever really get over losing you. I will, however, do my best to make you proud and keep your spirit alive now and in the future.

Happy Birthday! 

Writerly Rhews

In the crazy hubbub of life, sometimes writing time gets wonky. Deek and I have been going, going, going of late, and our writing has suffered. I've been working on Molly and Ryder...well...for a long time. But for this iteration of their story, I started a year ago. WUT? Apparently. Eep!

And I'd only gotten to about 25,000 words. To be fair, I opened my freelance editing and design business, started working for another small press, and maintained all my BookFish duties. So, as much as my characters have been clawing to get out of my brain, they've been rather stuck.

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But I got a little free time this week after I wrapped up a bunch of big projects, and guess what? 

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I DOUBLED by word count in just a few days. The ideas, which had been start/stop and piecemeal, just started flowing. And flowing. And flowing. I'm almost done with the rough draft of this story that's dogged me for a long time. AND, it's *finally* right. I've written and rewritten it, and it's never been quite there. But now it is. How did that happen?!?

Anyway, this is how I feel about all that...

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Meanwhile, Deek is working through the first round of I-finished-my-rough-draft edits on The Extractor. We pitched the idea to some folks at Cape Fear Comic Con, and he got a *huge* amount of interest. So, he's pushing hard to get his first round of self-editing done quickly so he can do his second round of self-edits, get it me, then send it to Anya, and then start submitting to agents!!

I am SO proud of my hubby! This story is unique, and his writer voice is unlike any I've ever read. That's a pretty stellar combination!

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For those waiting to hear news on Restore To Me, my historical fiction, you can wait impatiently with me. LOL! Nothing moves quickly in the writing world, but I've got some agent and publisher interest. So...we wait.

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In non-writer related news, please keep my MeMa in your thoughts and prayers. Today would have been her 63rd wedding anniversary with PaPa. It's also the first PaPa-less first, one of many we'll experience as we navigate the first year of this strange world without him.

As much as I miss him, I know she misses him exponentially more. Smile down bright on your lovely bride today, PaPa. We miss you and love you always!

Their 50th Wedding Anniversary

In world news, Deek and I got to witness the eclipse. I know I've seen one before in my lifetime (I've had to, right?). I even remember making one of the pinhole boxes in school, but I can't remember actually seeing the eclipse. So, this time Deek and I made sure we did! It was AMAZING!

I played Juliet in high school and performed her again in college--AND I voluntarily took a ridonk amount of Shakespeare classes in college--so naturally some lines from the great bard's Romeo and Juliet popped into my head...

"Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, 

Who is already sick and pale with grief, 

That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she. 

Be not her maid, since she is envious; 

Her vestal livery is but sick and green 

And none but fools do wear it; cast it off."

There is a Shakespeare line for almost any moment. ;) 

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Until next time, read, write, and live out loud!!

What is Self-Soothing?

A few days ago, someone told me that dealing with loss is a good time to practice self-soothing. I nodded, but I'm not entirely sure what that means. Lie in bed all day? Stuff my face with pizza? Cry until my tears run out? These are things I *want* to do, but I *need* to walk the line between grieving for someone who's gone and living for those who are still here.

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Deek tells me to be patient with myself, to take the time I need to grieve, and I love him so hard for his love, patience, and kindness. Sometimes I do lie in bed. Sometimes I do cry until my tears run out. And yes, I *have* stuffed my face with pizza. Twice.

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I honestly don't know how to grieve. I've been fortune to have friends and family with long lifespans, so this is my first real, adult experience with this sort of pain. And he was my PaPa. The first man I ever loved. He used to take me everywhere with him, and I was happy as a clam to go. He was my PaPa, and I was his BabyDoll.

The first man I ever loved walks me down the aisle to the last man I'll ever love. 

Poetic.

In college, I took a really great class called Relational Communication. In one lesson, we talked about grief and how to respond to people in the midst of it. Our professor said people don't want to hear platitudes. They don't want to hear you're sorry. They want you to be able to sit with them in their grief. Cry with them. Love them through their pain. 

At the time, I didn't truly understand. Now I do. 

I guess this is where experience teaches more than academia. Where life is learned by living, not studying. But I say with my whole heart, this is a lesson I'd rather not learn. 

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Yesterday, I spent the day with my Mema. We cried, we talked about PaPa, and we read some of the lovely cards friends and family had sent. But PaPa's absence filled the room.

If you are the praying sort, please pray for my Mema. If you're the good vibes sort, please send them her way. This woman lost her partner, her best friend, and the love of her life. They were together over 60 years--married almost 63. 

My heart aches, my throat closes, and a fresh wave of tears form when I think of her sleeping in her bed alone, eating alone, *being* alone. It breaks my heart because I know, I witnessed firsthand, just how very much they loved each other.

If you see me or talk to me and I'm not myself, know that I'm muddling through this tsunami of grief. I'm trying to figure out how to self-soothe, whatever that means. I'm trying to make sense of a world that doesn't have PaPa in it. And know that even when I reach the other side of this sea of sadness, I'll never quite be the same. Because like I said before...this BabyDoll is sorely lacking without her PaPa.

A Tribute to PaPa and Family

On Friday (7/7/17), I received the call I'd always known would come one day but always hoped, however unrealistic, never would. My PaPa, my grandfather, left this earth peacefully in his sleep. I'm shattered. Devastated. Heartbroken. My PaPa is more special to me than there are words to express it. I've always been "PaPa's Babydoll." And though I know I'll continue to be, this BabyDoll is sorely lacking without her PaPa.

There is a hollowness inside my chest that aches. I know heartache isn't actually in the heart, but it sure feels that way. A few days ago, I read an article that said "Grief isn't linear." And that's true. Sometimes I can muster a smile, but other times, I can't hold back my tears. Grief is like this terrible up and down rollercoaster that you can't get off of. 

People keep asking me if I need anything. Yeah, I do. I need to have my PaPa back. 

I've always felt lucky to be part of my family, but I don't think I realized *just* how lucky I was (and how unique my family is) until I grew up. Not everyone gets together with their entire family--and by that, I mean well over a hundred people--several times a year. Not everyone knows the name and life story of their fifth cousin twice removed. Not everyone has a big group of people who cheer you on in the good times and cry with you in the bad times. Not everyone was taught the value of family and shown unconditional love.

But I was, and I'm forever grateful. And the reason I know all these things and was taught these wonderful values is because of this group right here: PaPa and his siblings.

Top, right to left: Stacy, Ed, Harold

Bottom, right to left: PaPa, Wendell, Bunkie, Eldred.

At first glance, to people who don't know them, they may just look like a bunch of old folks. But they're the liveliest bunch you'll ever meet. They had such depth of personality that it's impossible to catalog, but I'll try in as few words as possible. 

Stacy--The oldest, the leader, always ready with a hug. 

Ed--The storyteller who could leave you with a stomachache from laughing so hard. 

Harold--The jokester, who was always ready with a goofy grin and a riddle. 

Wendell--A hard worker with an infectious laugh. 

Bunkie--The quiet observer with an artistic soul. 

Eldred--Poised and regal despite growing up with six brothers. 

And PaPa--the baby--was a mix of them all. 

Though they're gone now, I can still hear the sound of their voices and the symphony of their combined laughter.

These people, along with Mema and her outstanding "kinfolk," created my family. And they didn't just limit our gathering to their family, they opened it up to our extended-extended family, to friends, and to the community. With their warm, generous spirits, they never wanted anyone to feel alone, especially during the holidays.

This is my heritage. This is my legacy. I am luckier than I have any right to be to have had these wonderful, amazing people in my life. And I'm forever changed by it.

Even as my heart breaks, I can hear PaPa saying, "Don't cry, BabyDoll. I'm juuust right, and I'll see you again directly." Until then, I'll endeavor to carry the torch and to model the behavior PaPa and his siblings displayed for me. I'll do my very best to apply their lessons to my own life--love deeply and passionately, give wholeheartedly, cherish your family, welcome everyone, be present in everything you do, laugh hard and often, tell jokes, be silly, explore your artistic side, honor your family name, set an example, and live your life to the fullest each and every moment.

This one image keeps coming into my mind, and it brings me a little comfort as I move through this non-linear grief. Backstory: PaPa and his brothers created a card game when they were little, and they played it all their lives. I can still see them sitting around a table playing it. They all had asthma. And they would laugh so hard during their card game that they'd all need their inhalers. Like synchronized swimmers, they'd whip out their inhalers, take a puff, and continue laughing and playing.

So, in my mind, I see his brothers and sister sitting around a table playing that card game, and they've had an empty seat waiting for years. This Friday, PaPa took that empty seat, and they dealt him a hand of cards. I can almost hear Stacy saying, "Lawd, Darwin, we've been waiting for you for a while now." And when I imagine this scene, my heart hurts a little less, just for a minute.

Goodbye, PaPa. I'll always love you and cherish the time I got to spend with you. I loved every minute of being your BabyDoll, and I'll do my best to make you proud.