by Sarah | Sep 11, 2012 | All About Family, All About Me, Personal, Story of Me
I posted this last year and the year before at this time. I’m re-posting it. I will always repost it every year at this time…
I know what today is. I know what it means to our country. I remember every detail of 2001 in vivid detail…but since before 2001, this date has been difficult for me, for my family…in 1996 my family’s core was lost, the heart of us…my grandfather…so my post on 9/11 is for him. Oh, and at surface glance I hate this picture of me, but then I see the pure joy on my face dancing with my grandfather and aesthetics be damned, it’s my favorite picture.
It was his birthday. I was young and a very short kid…and he was TALL. I remember watching him put our coats in the closet and staring up, up, up at him and asking, “How tall are you?” With his sparkling eyes and laugh he informed me that he was over 6′. My eyes grew wide, and all I could say was, “But you’re so close to the ceiling! If you have ANY more birthdays you’ll go right through!”
His chair sat by the front door and the minute he sat the race was on – who would get the privilege of sitting on his lap, carrying on as deep a conversation as a child was capable of? Who would get to play with his round pot belly, and listen to his laughter?
He worked for GM and he was proud of it, and so were we.
When I close my eyes I can still smell his pipe and see the pipe carousel on his dresser. I can smell the cigarettes that he and grandma smoked.
I remember that after he retired he would watch soap operas during lunch.
And I remember the weddings – when my cousin and I would trade off and share him for the dance. “Grampa” by the Judds.
I remember his smile.
I remember his belly.
I remember the strength that he always carried in his soul and body.
I remember the pain that shot through my heart at the word…”cancer”. Once it was uttered it was less than a year. 10 months.
I remember the first time I saw him in the hospital-and how I had to run from the room because it made me physically ill to see my big strong grandfather lying in a bed weak and hooked up to tubes.
I remember his fight.
I remember when it was acknowledged in our hearts that the time to fight was over.
I remember how he held on – hours past when we thought we would lose him – because he would not let go until he’d gotten to hear the good-bye of all of his grandchildren, and my brother had been in surgery for his shattered wrist. Half an hour after the final phone call, he was gone.
I remember the sound of the tennis balls scattering across the hallway when my professor’s assistant walked up asking if she knew where I was…and all I could do was run to my car to get home as soon as I could.
From there it’s a blur…a long car ride from NC to NY. The arrangements. The funeral home. The droves of people I didn’t know, but who all knew him, overflowing the room.
The pain has lessened, resorted to a memory. For the most part I remember the love, the good things, the joy. But on this day every year the pain comes back to the forefront.
The pain seems so much stronger now that Grandma has gone to join him. Refreshed and renewed. Now they are together forever, but they will always be here in our hearts.
We love you still, and will always love you, Grampa.
by Sarah | Sep 7, 2012 | All About Erik
May the year ahead bring you peace and new happiness.
May the struggles of the past year move into the past and linger only to drive you forward into new and better things.
May the joys of this new year far outweigh the sorrows.
You’ve been my staunchest supporter, even in my craziest dreams. I hope that I can only be the same for you.
For the best husband, and most marvelous father, I hope your birthday far outshines every other before. We all love you.
Happy Birthday, Erik!!
*You old fart. 😉
by Sarah | Sep 6, 2012 | All About Denver, All About Family, All About Home, All About Me
In the outer edges of Virginia. Just outside of Dayton. There’s a small little dirt road off of a dirt road.
That road is called Denver Lane.
That road is named after my son.
Yes. Literally.
See that house at the end of Denver Lane? We lived there. A lovely house on 40 acres. My dog Sohio is buried next to that large pond. My cat, Calicow, is buried in the yard by the shed. Denver was a baby in that house. We lived “next door” to the man behind one of the biggest discount tire stores in Virginia – and he had a son about 2 years old. We spent some time with them, had a couple of cookouts during that summer. They were good neighbors – and with each of us having so much land we didn’t encroach.
Back then Denver Lane was Rural Route 12 (or something like that).
And the city decided to renamed all rural routes for 911 calls, etc. We were told to make our submissions for road names.
Our neighbors submitted their sons name. We submitted Denver’s. We joked back and forth with them over who would win the road name. After all, at the time there was just the two of us on that road back then. Not many options to choose from.
Two weeks before we moved we learned the city had picked “Denver Lane”. Not just that, but our house number would have had the month, date, and hour of Denver’s birth.
Unfortunately, we moved away from that gorgeous land before we ever got to live on his namesake street.
But I know it’s there, and it’s on google maps…
So yeah, my kid’s awesome. They named a whole street after him.
by Sarah | Sep 5, 2012 | All About Kennedy, Anger Issues, Special Needs
[flickr id=”6936627216″ thumbnail=”small” overlay=”true” size=”small” group=”” align=”left”] *Side note – to date this is my absolute favorite picture of Kennedy. 😀
When you first meet Kennedy, and often for many meetings after, you see the sunshine.
We once pegged her as the ‘smilingist’ baby ever.
She has it all.
The eyes that melt your heart with their bigness, their brightness, their expressiveness.
The cheeks that run in the family – from birth until teens just adorable, chubby, and pinchable.
The silly grin. It lights up her face, or quirks just a bit to make you forget the anger and lean to laughter.
Don’t get me started on the baby-doll voice. Cupie doll, sweet and tiny.
[flickr id=”6936590242″ thumbnail=”small” overlay=”true” size=”small” group=”” align=”right”]No one can believe it.
Not unless they ever see it.
No one understands it.
The completely opposite.
Desperately different.
Achingly painful.
Underbelly of that sunshine.
When we mention the way she can burst your eardrums we get the “You’re kidding, right?” look.
When we mention the temper tantrum she threw – they think we’re being silly. We don’t know what a real tantrum is like, what real anger is like.
But they weren’t there to watch her slam her head into the corners of walls, into the hardwood floor, into our faces.
They aren’t here to see her intentionally dig at her nose until it bleeds so often she’s building scar tissue.
[flickr id=”6936587076″ thumbnail=”small” overlay=”true” size=”small” group=”” align=”left”]Some days I feel like people look at me like I’m making it all up.
Some days I wonder if maybe I’m overreacting to the anger.
That on top of everything else this one thing is unbelievable.
Because she is sunshine.
With every heart-wrenching smile – she is sunshine.
When I am at my angriest she can make me lose hold of it and smile.
[flickr id=”7082668411″ thumbnail=”small” overlay=”true” size=”small” group=”” align=”right”] But she gets angry.
Mind-numbingly, ear-splittingly, heart-wrenchingly angry.
Things are better these days.
A little.
At least she isn’t trying to break our noses on a regular basis.
But her teachers notice.
It’s out of line with “normal” temper tantrums.
And for this – for this I don’t know how to help her.
Everything else has a solution.
A therapy.
A doctor.
A…something.
This?
Most of the time, I don’t know how to handle this.
I let the flame burn out.
And wait for next time.
by Sarah | Sep 5, 2012 | All About Indiana, The Reluctant Hoosier
So I’m way behind the bandwagon on this one. I’ve been blogging for almost six years and just managed to join the Indianapolis Bloggers Network.
What can I say? I’m a follower, but a slow one. Eventually I get there. 😉
Excited to have another way to reach out and meet other local peeps in this vast WWW.
by Sarah | Sep 4, 2012 | All of Us, Crap, Random
[flickr id=”5066636412″ thumbnail=”small” overlay=”true” size=”small” group=”” align=”left”]School is in session.
It’s gone from the girls.
To me.
Now to the boys.
I love the school year.
But this part? This part I hate.
Send Lysol.
Lots of it.
Oy.
