Distinguished Alumni

Last night I spoke (as one of three) at Clark (my alma matta) to the English Majors (or the interested ones) about what I do, what my challenges are and how my English major helps me. I think I spoke too fast, and although I covered all those points the woman who went after me said so much more... and I kind of wish I had said a bit more... but anyway its below in case you are interested.

Hello! I’m Adrienne and I graduated with honors in 2003. I’m currently the People Strategies Team Coordinator at Shawmut Design and Construction which is a 600 M national General Contractor located in Boston. People Strategies Team is what we call our Human Resources department, and it is a different name because we act in a much more strategic way than most HR departments.

As a coordinator I support the VP and Director of our department in their day to day activities and on special projects for them and entire team. Day to day I manage their calendars and communications whether via phone or emails. In my support role I also help draft a lot of memos about many of the programs and practices our HR department is involved in. I’m a go to person for anything people may need from the Director and VP and usually anything in general that employees need from our department. Some of the special projects I work on are compensation research and benchmarking, planning and implementation of new computer systems and other non technological systems that are related to HR, like our applicant tracking system the recruiting team uses, and designing and facilitating training programs. It’s a very complex role and each day is very different, I could take all my allotted time describing what I can do on a typical day. But let me tell you a little bit about Shawmut.

Shawmut is extremely high energy and fast paced so new projects and needs are being tossed my way daily. One of my major challenges is keeping everything in order, I have to be detailed and organized. Another challenge I encounter is being asked to work on things I’ve never done before, or am not that familiar with. As someone new to not only the work world, but the HR industry in general this challenge will lessen as I learn and grow in my role and in my chosen industry. Our company is growing a very rapid rate (When I started in January of 2005 there were 450 employees, there almost 650 now) and with that our HR department has to grow and change many of the old procedures. This has given me exposure to change management, systems implementation, and taught me how to look at current policies, procedures and systems and understand where they can grow and change and where they just need to be completely revamped.

So, how did my English major prepare me? You may hear what I do and think- there is no way she needs an English major for that? Let me first tell you how I got to HR from the English major. As I began to explore Clark’s 5th year free program the only program that really spoke to me was the Professional Communication Masters Program. In this program there were 3 different areas of focus- Human Resources, Marketing, and Management communications. Being a Sociology minor I saw HR as a combination of my English and Sociology skills. I would be able to communicate well and understand how the employees of the company I was working at would respond to certain forms of communication.

So, that brings us to today- and my work in HR. I feel that my Masters program was able to prepare me for what HR is all about, what HR professionals can focus on and where different HR departments go with their practices. However, my English major enabled me to be ready for anything, which as I said earlier is a necessity in my ever changing fast paced environment.

I can write up memos/emails communicating important initiatives and communications to the company or select employee groups for my bosses to save them time.

I can take a document they’ve written and look at it with an editors eye, finding typos and helping them better present their points.

I can read and summarize articles, providing them with time saving ways of taking in important industry information. This also exposes me to industry information that will help me learn and grow a bit more quickly in my role.

I think the area I’ve seen my English major prepare me the most for is my work with the Training and Development team. Our training programs consist of Overheads to present, Facilitator Notes to help with the presentation and Participant guide books that give the participants a take away from the class and include exercises to do during the class. In my work with T & D I’ve helped write up overheads which need to present a lot of information in very concise ways, I was able to learn how to best present ideas concisely via my English major curriculum. I’ve also been able to write up the participant guide books which require a certain style of writing, something I adapted to easily, and again it is writing a broad point in a small space requirement. All those one page essay’s that could have taken 10 really helped with that! And, presenting frequently in classes helped allow me to be comfortable in front of a group and facilitate some training programs.

Honestly, even before I was asked to speak about how my English major has helped me, I frequently thought to myself and out loud how thankful I am that I had the chance to hone my writing, reading and communication skills in an English program. They’ll tell you during your time as an English major that you can do anything with your degree, and its true. It will help you in all aspects of business. Just like I could talk all night about what I do everyday, I could also talk about the skills I learned as an English Major that help me do well in my job and decreased my learning curve. In many cases it will give you a step up because you’ve already developed strong ways of communicating that many first year grads lack.

Web Cool Hunting

Work has been somewhat slow lately, and I've been exploring a lot of websites... Some of them are pretty neat and I wanted to share... a web form of cool hunting!

1. Techie Diva's Guide to Gadgets :

This website is so fun. It keeps you updated on all the fun gadgets, toys, ideas, etc that women who enjoy technology and being women will love. I visit it almost daily, and while I don't often buy anything they talk about- its still fun to keep up on the technology trends, and who knows maybe give you some good gift ideas!

2. Hungry Girl :

I found this site through another blog I read and now get their daily emails. It combines the need that women feel to diet and look good with the reality of how hard that can be when you love food! Some of her recipes are really brilliant and fun to try, and she also introduces great new products, like True Lemon and True Lime which I adore. The emails are fun to get everyday, especially the ones where the review different diet products and give you the real deal on if they're worth the reduced calories/fat/etc.

3. Yelp! :

Yelp is a great site to use when searching for reviews on restaurants, doctors, stores, mechanics, etc. It is real reviews from real people telling you what they really think! I love it. If you click on the link above you can see all the reviews I've done, and then just search from there to find anything in the Boston, New York or any other major metropolitan area. Enjoy- and if you sign up to start reviewing, make sure to request me as a friend!

The next few websites are other blogs I visit daily, multiple times to see if they're updated. They are on my blog roll but I figure, why not give an explanation?

4. Pink is the New Blog:

A work friend turned me on to this site when I caught her looking it one day, and was like ooh what is that? Its celebrity gossip (so if that's not your thing, just close the window) mixed in with some humor and some tales of Trent's own life. He's funny, real and gives me my daily dose of celebrity gossip- perfect.

5. Greek Tragedy:

Dad pointed an article in the New York Times about Stephanie Klein out to me once a couple of years ago, and about 4 months later I wanted to read more- so I found her blog and have been glued to it ever since. I don't know what it is, most other bloggers don't keep me intrigued that long- its like blog reading ADD- but I'm drawn to Stephanie's story, her life, where she's going and what she's doing and I keep reading and checking for updates. She recently wrote her first book, which I will buy when it comes out on paperback because I really dislike hardcopies, and is now working on a pilot- so its not just me that likes her writing. I really encourage you to check her out, especially if as your reading my blog you get some blog reading ADD...

Addictions

Today via emails I backed out of triva on Tuesday to do spinning instead... and then said as a side note- I got all my bills this weekend and I really can't afford to go play trivia somewhere and end up spending $25 on a meal and beer I don't need to spend $25 on. I apologized with, "I hate using the money excuse". The friend responded with, no use it- I frankly need to use it more often, because its true.

A few hours later, still via emails still with the same friend I talked about thinking I may need closed toed shoes to wear to the event I'm going to for work this weekend. I already had the dress, but it was meant to be worn this summer and never was so the strappy open toed shoes I had bought to go with it probably won't work for a mid November event. I searched on Zappos- found some for $80 and contemplated paying $15 to have them shipped 2nd day to me. Then I got smart and decided to go to the mall after work, and still spent $80 on shoes, and $2 on parking, I had to have for the event this weekend, because open toed just wouldn't be right. I'll try them out tomorrow to break them in a bit, although they were surprisingly comfortable in the store, and maybe I've finally started to break my feet into heels. I promised that if they don't go with the dress I'll return them, and that I'll wear them a ton after the event. There's always a way to convince yourself you need something... doesn't that happen with all addictions? Yes, I admit it, I have a bit of a shopping addiction- but check them out... aren't they great?

Rut

I don't know what to write about. I've got all this stuff in my head, but I don't know how to get it down in words that express my emotions, are written well and provide entertainment value. A lot of it is work related, and I don't want to write about work here... just in case. Some of it is the same old stuff I've been writing about, and I don't feel like finding new ways to express my grief process.

So, I'm stuck. There is almost too much sensory stimulous surronding me for me to pick something out and expound on. I want to learn how to use my camera better so I can take pictures and start using them as entries. I'm becoming more and more drawn to images, things I see around me everyday, and I picture how they could come across in photographic form. I keep saying I'm going to write everyday, get something down, and then I find otherways to use my time and don't end up writing. But I guess this is writing... this is releasing my thoughts, they're just not as formed and creatively spun as usual, as I'd like them to be.

Empty

The lights were bright, distracting me from the road, drawing my eyes to the empty field. The grass faded green in the outfield, the dirt cleanly shaped to outline the infield. Where were the children? Why was the field lit up, but empty?
I thought of my trip to Chicago, walking through millennium park, passing 6 or 8 empty baseball fields - I wanted to run through them, use them in some way but we stayed on the path looking out at them- I a bit entranced by the empty beauty, imaging all they held, the games won, the time spent together as a team, as a family. A couple walked onto them, over them, through them. I didn’t know if they would be playing catch or just using them as a short cut. We walked on. Their blankness stuck out in my mind.

They were empty, I felt empty. I wanted them to be full of children playing, of teams battling for a championship, of inner city youth having an outlet, a green space to play a safe place to come. Maybe I just wanted those things for myself, I needed a safe place to be, a place full of life, of hope and things won.

I turned my head again and looked at the empty field, all lit up, the signs of fall apparent, the dying grass, the leafless trees. Turning my head back to the road, I drove on. NPR began reporting about deaths in Iraq, focusing on one marine who had died. His mother spoke, frank and open, the love and loss apparent in her voice. She read a poem he’d written after returning from Afghanistan, the change in his personality evident. His brother spoke about being told not to enlist, to stay away from the Marines. His mother spoke about sitting her son down before he returned to Iraq to plan his funeral, just in case. How he had decided to have his friends be pallbearers, not the marines and then described them carrying his coffin. The reporter came back on, I heard the tears in her voice, as she ended the story. I started to cry. I let myself cry. As I pulled onto my friends road, I stopped myself, I knew if I really let it hit me I wouldn’t stop. I pulled myself together. As I sat in the car, turning it off, getting my things together, I thought about the young marine about all the loss in our world. As I write this now, I see that empty field as the beginning of my thoughts changing, my perspective shifting to emptiness and loss. I didn’t see the field as awaiting the game that would be played later in the evening, the lights just warming up. I just assumed the field was empty, would sit ready for something that would never come. Like this marine’s mother, sitting, empty, waiting for someone that wouldn’t return.

Cloudy Day

I’ve been drawn to the sky, spending a lot of time pondering the clouds. For the past month I’ve headed west on the Pike towards Newton each Thursday. There’s a point on this route where you inevitably hit traffic and have to stop. It must be on top of a slight incline because this past month I’ve noticed how much sky I can see. No sky scrappers or trees blocking my view, just miles of sky filled with clouds. Each week the clouds are different and beautiful. Normally they are what are blocking the sun, but lately for me that’s been okay.
I spend many minutes gazing up at them as I sit on the road, only averting my eyes to inch my car forward in traffic. I don’t mind the delay, it gives me time to look at the clouds. When the sun is setting within them they turn purples, blues, reds, oranges, yellows and grays. When there is a bright blue sky they are often rounded, soft and pure white. When its been stormy they often dot the sky like polka dots, and sometimes when its windy they are wispy and nearly non-existent. I’ve never thought before how beautiful and vast clouds are.
I don’t remember ever being this drawn to the sky, or clouds. Ever. Yet, each day I find myself looking up, excited when I find clouds, awed as I stare. They are so beautiful, so different, so ever changing.
I often wonder if he is behind them, causing this enhance beauty, giving me something to look up to and find.
Some may say, my attraction is symbolic of my state of mind, “my head is in the clouds“. I feel like now I’m finally out of the fog that surrounded me this spring and summer. I’m feeling more grounded, able to remember more, focus better. And now, that I’m out of my “cloud” I’m more drawn to them then ever in my life.
With the changing of the clocks, it will be dark as I drive to Newton each Thursday. Luckily, I sit next to a large window everyday. Although my view is mostly a crane and the Pru, I can still gaze at the clouds of that day. I look forward to going outside each day and seeing the cloud formations, the colors they’ll hold, the shapes they’ll take and how they’ll change throughout the day. Maybe my head is in the clouds, but they are giving me something to look forward to, inspiration for the photography below and place to put a lot of my wandering thoughts.

I'm looking more pretty

A woman at work stopped me in the bathroom the other day, she had something work related to tell me but before she started she said, "You've looked really pretty recently." I probably cocked my head and said something like, "aww, thank you."

I left the bathroom obviously feeling really nice, wow- I look pretty lately. Okay.

Driving to the gym after work I thought, hmm, I have been putting more effort into what I'm wearing, and I've been wearing make up everyday... maybe thats it. I told my Mom about it on the phone later that night, she added that I probably do look better- people have told her she looks much better and several people have commented that her voice sounds different. Maybe a bit of the color has come back to my face and I probably look a little less tired. It is an upward trend, things do get easier, life goes on and you keep living it and go back to living it a bit more fully.

Its definitely motivated me to keep up my appearance, I want to keep looking pretty, maybe more so each day. Its added some motivation back into my mornings, and that's a good thing.

"I feel pretty... oh so pretty... "

I didn't edit this

My blog has been depressing, my thoughts have been depressing and this is a place to put them. But enough with depressing thoughts, lets try something happier. I have love… I have real love, the forever kind. Thank god. I’ve been depressed, lets not lie even though this is supposed to be a happy blog, and tonight as I lay in bed and try to sleep not wanting to take a pill to help me, not wanting to put my thoughts onto my blog because its been a bit too depressing and lets face I did that in the last entry can’t have too much of the same thing here… I am trying to be marketable… right? Anyway, as I lay in bed trying to sleep but really thinking depressing and anxious thoughts, I realized that this past weekend I didn’t think those thoughts, I didn’t worry about wanting something new, something more, I didn’t worry about work and not being motivated by it, I didn’t worry. I was with Matt and that made me happy. I was able to put aside the other thoughts and just be with him. That’s how I know it’s the forever kind of love… because he makes me happy, he makes me feel okay in the moment, with him I don’t worry about rushing to the next thing just to do something else, I can be in the here and now and not think depressing thoughts that make me want to fast forward. Sure, I’m still deep down unhappy and sure I take that out on him with petty arguments about splashing water on the counter, but the fact that I can look back on the past weekend and know that I was happy in the moments is a lot. Its security, I can have faith in my relationship and where that will take me because I have real love.

I lie awake at night...

I miss you so much. I lie awake at night, often, thinking about you... where you might be...what you might know. The loss is so permanent, so fixed, so great, its hard to fit in to my life. Sometimes I feel like people think I'm over it, that I've moved on, I'm "okay" like they knew I would be. I'm not. I'll never be over it. You're gone, forever, a huge gaping hole left in my life. I'll never move on, there is no where to move to, you can't move away from this. I'm not "okay." Sure, I can function, I'm a highly functioning person. But there are days, and they're often, when I just want to lay in bed all day and mourn my loss, your loss, our loss. I'll admit it, I wish I would get sick, really sick, sneezy, nose running can't get enough tissues to catch up to the snot sick, so that I can have an excuse to stay in bed all day. But I get up, I function, I go through my life, I do my job, I socialize, I live. I guess its easy for me because I am so highly functional... but in reality, its really hard and somehow I just do it, without knowing how or why I can. I'm much more anxious about another great loss, about what else could go wrong. I'm much more pessimistic, this sucks now and its always going to suck I'll just somehow incorporate the suckiness into my life and hopefully the pain won't feel as raw and unmanageable so often. I'm still me, but I'm not the same. I still function but it doesn't mean I've moved on. Its a long process, in fact a never ending process of figuring out how to live life without you. I lie awake at night thinking about you, where you are, what you can see. I miss you.

BFFs

When I was in high school everyone gathered at my house. It was only 5 minutes from the high school and we had plenty of space. I liked it that way; I didn't have to go anywhere. I had a party here freshman year, to christen it as the house to come to. I could come home and know that people would come over.

As we moved through college I lost touch with high school friends. Some just never wrote back to emails or responded to IMs; some found a new focus and path that I wasn't on, others I'm not sure what happened with, we just lost touch. I would come home and know that no one would be coming over it would just be me, visiting my house. I got to like it that way, I love spending time with my family and most of the activities we did were for four. There was one friend I did stay in touch with, but I would go to her for visits. I'm not sure why, but I started to feel the strain of always driving to her in order to maintain the friendship. I started canceling plans, it was so easy and comfortable to just stay home and I honestly enjoyed hanging out with my parents. We kept in touch, still and I did still see her... but there started to be a shift, I started to see her less when I was home, even with invites to my house or invites to my city. We finally talked about it, or wrote about it, in a couple of tense emails. We got it all out. The need to stay in touch, the hurt feelings when plans were canceled, the acknowledgment that our lives were taking very different paths and sometimes that makes it difficult to stay in touch. The connection grows weaker if we aren't experiencing similar things. Since then we haven't seen each other much. I did put in more effort for a couple of visits. I made it a point to go to her, I drove through a snowstorm to get to a party she was having. It didn't make a difference, I haven't seen her in at least 2 years and we haven't written either.

I come home very often, even more often since my Dad's death. I probably go home more often than my old high school friends I don't stay in touch with who still live in the area. Why did we all fall out of touch? Could we be friends again? I recently had a drink with someone I had been close with my last two years of high school. We hadn't even really tried to stay in touch, although I remember a visit my freshman year at college, she was a year younger. We talked a lot about high school friends, where we're going in our lives and where many of the people we went to high school with are going. How that is much of the reason we don't stay in touch, or want to see them when we come home. We are too different now. We had the same perspective. It’s so nice to go home, to be with our family, to be in that house, but we wouldn't really want to see those people. It would be awkward, hard, forced. It felt refreshing to get it out, and have it mean something to someone in the same situation. Her parents had moved out of the house she grew up in, its easier for her to go home and not see those high school friends, they aren't around. My Mom still lives in the same house that had so many of my high school friends go through it when I was 16. My boss and another executive once said to me, "You're too savvy to be from New Hampshire." I told them that my Mom was from the South Shore of Massachusetts and my Dad from Waterbury Connecticut. They ahhed and agreed that's why I'm so Un-New Hampshire. Maybe that is part of my desire to visit home, to be in this house, but not see the people I grew up with. Many of them are born and breed in New Hampshire. I'm not saying they aren't savvy people too, but there is something to be said about not being born and bred here. There is something to be said for me falling in love with a man who is New York City through and through. I'm very drawn to the rural ness of my upbringing, but to the city like qualities he possesses.

I am in touch with some people from high school through MySpace, although I don't think that's really a connection more of a way to find someone again and if you meet in person then it becomes a connection. I tried to rally them to help plan a reunion. I'd like to see what's happened to everyone, where have they gone, what have they done... could we be friends again. It didn't happen. No one else was as behind it as I was.

Obviously I think about this a lot. People ask me about it too, "Are you in touch with anyone from high school?" I always say, "Not really." And I can see the surprise on their face because they know how often I visit home and I'm sure assume part of it is to see old friends. When I was in high school I figured that these people would be my best friends for life. That it didn't matter if we were all going to very different schools, we still had home, we'd still come here and everyone would come to my house and it would be like old times. I'm wiser now. I still mourn the loss of those friends, they are my high school memories. Yet, I know that they weren't my friends for life, I've made them in other places. And, I have a trunk full of notes passed in the hall to relive those memories through, I have yearbooks full of quotes and inside jokes. Maybe some day I'll get that reunion planned and we can hug and laugh at the good times we used to have and share our current lives and the differences will be clear... but we won't say anything about it... we'll both just know that after this event we won't be in touch. We'll just be memories.

The Day of Atonement

It’s a day of reflection. Time to think of the year that’s past, the good and the bad, the moments you regret, the moments you’ll cherish. A time to think of the year to come, to hope for more of the good and less of the bad, to create more moments to cherish and hopefully fewer you’ll regret this time next year. We sat in temple this morning, being guided through these thoughts, offered nuggets to take back and further reflect upon, prayed in hopes that God would forgive(whether you believe in one being that can forgive or not), prayed in hopes that we could forgive and would be forgiven. We come home to reflect.

The washing machine was turned on, the computers started up, email was opened, and the TV turned on. Then the power went out. We need to reflect, not distract ourselves with what we do everyday anyway. This day has to be different. We have to take the time, whether chosen or not, to think of how to better ourselves, our relationships with our spirituality (God if you believe), and others in the New Year. In Temple we decree that God said he has forgiven us, that we’ve showed ourselves ready for a New Year with less “sin”. Yet, God cannot forgive us for sins we have committed against others, and ourselves. That is the key point for me. I have to focus on myself, I’ve been trying to focus on myself… and yet that includes opened internet pages, a TV turned on. That’s not complete focus, in fact I think it may be distraction, I’m avoiding the time I need to spend in my own head, scared of what may come up. That is what this day is for, that is why the power is out.

So here I sit, on a windy porch, watching the light move on the changing colors of the leaves. I notice the contrast between nature and man in the poles we’ve erected to run electricity to our house, only to be blown out by the force of wind. I lean back in the rocker and reflect on the year, on the tumultuous events of the spring and summer. Maybe I am ready to call this a new year, maybe I can really think today about who I am, who I’ve been, what I’ve been and done to others and how to forgive those who have sinned against me and ask for forgiveness from those I feel I’ve sinned. The wind picks up as my mind races with thoughts of the year, with thoughts of change, and life, and death. I feel the wind gusts calm and I start to slow down too, letting the natural events of the day take me through my reflection. That is how it should be. No electricity necessary. Sitting on a porch with the wind moving my thoughts is how I will spend my Yom Kippur, and apparently its how whatever else is out there, whoever is charting the course and making the events of the day occur wants it to be spent too.

I'm breaking up with you

A friend of mine recently broke up with her boyfriend. He put his hand on her shoulder, looked her straight in the eye and said, "I'm breaking up with you." Sure, "Breaking up is hard to do..." but there are some rules people should at least try to follow. When I was in high school my Junior year boyfriend broke up with me like this:

I went over to his house to pick him up, we were going out for an anniversary dinner- I think we had been together for 3 months- I was very excited not only to go out to dinner but because we hadn't kissed all day (keep in mind I was 16 1/2 kissing was HUGE). Our friends had gotten sick of all our kissing in public so we had put it on hold for the day. I went up to his room as he got ready to go. I was sitting on the end of his bed, I can still picture the set up of his room- where he was standing, where I was sitting. He started talking... "Adrienne, you know how a girlfriend or boyfriend is kind of like friendship with lust?" At this point I started to get nervous, where was this conversation going? I soon realized, no where good. "Adrienne, I've lost the lust for you." I immediately thought, what if we hadn't not kissed all day, would he have realized he lost the lust? As much as I remember the details of his room, I don't remember what I did next. I know the night ended abruptly even though he suggested we still go to dinner, I drove home in tears and immediately had two friends come over to vent with. My Dad even offered to go "beat him up." in that cute protective joking Dad way. Sitting on my couch, talking to my friend who has just gone through a shitty break up talk I offered to go beat him up, I guess I do have a lot of my Dad in me.

Houston (that was my Junior year boyfriend's name) and I had talked during a walk once about his homosexual experiences with a couple of guys a few years earlier, he was curious, but confused as he really liked women too... I didn't think too much of it- he was a pretty eccentric guy and I didn't judge. I told a couple of friends about this after we broke up, joking that "he must be gay if he lost the lust for me... I mean look at me, right?" Unfortunately this got back to him, as most information does in high school, and we never were able to be friends.

It is something I've always regretted. We had a good connection, Houston and I, and I never wanted him to think I spread rumors he was gay. During college I tried to find out what had happened to him, where he'd ended up, I wanted to reconcile- I wanted us to be friends. The last I heard he was moving to Russia to marry a Russian woman.

My friend suggested remaining friends when her boyfriend broke up with her. Hand on her shoulder, serious look in his eyes, telling her he was breaking up with her, she wanted to stay friends. He said it could be awkward, she said only if we make it be. Post break up talk, he left her notes, tried to be friends, it was too hard. So she went to him, like a mature adult. She talked it through with him, told him what a jack-ass way that was to break up with her, told him everything that had been running through her head since the night of the break up. Suggested that in time that be friends, but not right now. That should be a rule. Get it all out there, so you can actually be friends. Sure vent with your close friends, call him names and convince yourself of how bad the person is, but ultimately go to the person... maybe you can be friends.

Granted I was a Junior in highschool and technically we're now "Adults" but I still look at how my friend handled the situation and want to highlight it. She took a jack-ass way of breaking up and didn't make the person suffer, as I inadvertantely did, she told him what she thought, laid it out for him... and I think they will be friends.

Leaveing

The colors are returning to the leaves, I drive the pike and notice the pop of color along the road. Its fall. Today is crisp and windy, perfect sweatshirt weather. I'm so ready for fall, I don't know if I've ever been this ready.

I realized recently, that maybe it’s because it marks the end of the year nearing and I want this year to be over. Technically because I'm Jewish, my year ends Friday night... I've never felt like it signifies the end of the year for me, its more like a milestone in my religious year. My Bubba called me Sunday night to say hi. We did the "How are you..." and started to skirt around the obvious, I'm crappy because my father/son died... but we finally somewhat, sort of acknowledged it. Then, the reason for her call, she started to wish me a happier and healthier New Year and I could tell she was holding back tears. Yes it’s true that I've never acknowledged Rosh Hashanah as my new year, but this year I definitely can't- I'm not ready to say "Okay time to have a better year." I don't think my Bubba was ready to wish it upon me either, she couldn't get it out without the reality of why she has to wish it becoming too much. I'm just ready to feel like something is changing, something is shifting, and maybe I can start to put some of it into the "___ sucked" category. Like in June I could say, "May sucked." and now that its fall I can say "summer sucked." Soon, I'll be able to say "2006 sucked."

For my Bubba I'll try to stay positive, a New Year will come whether I acknowledge it now or in January, and I'll hope for it to be happier and healthier too, as much as saying it makes me choke up a little too.

Reality Check

If you've noticed the books I'm reading sidebar you'll see one of them is a self-help book for the grief process. And, if you read my blog you can clearly see it is definitely a process I can use self-help on.

The book is broken into days of the year, each day is a quote related to grief and the grief process, and then the author writes a small commentary on how she reflects on the quote and how it could relate to the general grieving population.

My Mom visited a family friend on Monday evening, one that she hasn't really seen since my Dad died. She was walking in her neighborhood and decided to stop by. As soon as she walked in and sat down the friend expressed her sympathies, "How do you do it? You have to start your life over! You have to learn how to live your life all over again, this time alone." As my Mom relayed the story to me the next day, we both laughed, and then we both talked of our appreciation at someone letting us speak of the reality of the experience. She does have to start over and it is really hard and she doesn't really know how she's going to do it, she just is.

And, overall it really fucking sucks.

We talked more about how good it feels when people let you speak the truth of it, when even though they may be totally freaked out and scared, they let you share that fear and help you process it by just talking about it, admitting it, letting it live outside of our jumbled minds.

After we got off the phone, I picked up the Grief book to read that days entry. It was so fitting- as many of them are, a reason I really like the book- I never thought of sharing pieces of the book here, yet since Tuesday's caught my attention and so was fitting to something my Mom and I are both experiencing, I thought it could be good to share...so here it is:

"I sometimes hold it half a sin

To put in words the grief I feel;

For words, like nature, half reveal

And half conceal the Soul within. "

-- Alfred Tennyson

It's so hard to explain how we feel. When friends ask, and we sense that it's more than a routine polite inquiry, we want to tell them. Yet what to say?

The same anxiety besets those who try to express condolences. How many times have we heard people who've come from visiting a grieving friend lament, "I don't know whether I was any help at all. I didn't know what to say."

We know, since we've been on the receiving end of expressions of sympathy, that what is said is not as important as that the person has come to be with us, though it is possible to say "the wrong thing." A couple of mine are, "It's providential," and, "I'm sorry your daughter has graduated to the higher consciousness"!

But with few exceptions, the expression of love and the caring is what matters, not the words. In the same way, we who are groping to express our grief don't need to worry about acuracy or whether we're getting it all just right.

When the Moon

You can be driving down the highway, thinking of dinner, of what you've made with certain ingredients before and then the moon- enormous, perfectly round, lit up, appears in front of you- mouth gaping big. Reminding you of everything that exists beyond your reach.

Sometimes you need a shock that wakes you up from your dailyness, causes you to drive home without realizing you've gotten there, because all you can do is gape at the moon.

Snap

I'm not mad... but its about me now. I have to focus on what I need, on what my family needs, what my relationship needs and what my friends going through the same process need, and surround myself with the people who are able to do that too. I don't have the head space, or the mental energy to focus on you, It has to be about me now.

And I know you don't realize you do this, but it is always about you. Sure I get my "how are you doing" and "tell me about this or that" but usually its not about me. That was fine until recently, I didn't need the attention, and there was history to be considered. Yet, when it was time to be about me, you didn't step up. You couldn't shift focus. But I did. Now its about me.

Maybe you'll realize it, maybe you won't. What matters is that I have.

Advising Myself

I've been told I give good advice. Sometimes I just give it unsolicited, and I'm sure it annoys people, but I find I can't help going into advice mode. Often though people come to me with questions and I impart advice. When I was in high school I was convinced I should become a Therapist, I gave such good advice so why not make it a career? Part of the reason I enrolled at Clark University was its well known Psychology program (the only place where Freud spoke before the US disgusted him too much and he high tailed it out of here). Something changed that summer and I decided English would better suit me and made my path in that major. But, I didn't stop giving advice. I honestly don't know where it comes from/how I do it, I just know what to say and how to say it and how to guide people to do it.

I've had IM conversations with friends in which I type out what I think they should say, using I statements, making sure to be assertive and they'll ask me to email it to them so they can print it out and have it when they need to have the conversation. Recently a work colleague has had me edit/proof a couple of hard to write emails. Even one of my older work colleagues who is dating will ask my advice on relationships and men. Actually I frequently listen to and give advice to many of my single friends, even though I've really never dated and have been with the same man for 6 years. When a close friends Mother passed away 2 months after my Father had she called me and asked me to let everyone know. When I called and told one person there immediate response was, "What should I do?" And, being me, I gave her advice. This was more relevant since I had just been through the same experience, and she still felt comfortable asking me, maybe knew I'd give her good advice. Like I said, I don't know where the knowledge comes from or why it’s so easy for me to impart relevant advice.

But, this isn't meant to be a brag fest about how great I am at giving advice. I've been exploring it, in myself, trying to figure out why I can do it, where it comes from and at the same time making sure I'm really listening to people and not just spewing out advice when what they really want is for someone to listen. I think I figured out that the ability to give it no matter the situation and how it relates to my life experience comes from my Dad. He's was always able to look at situations and understand everyone involved and the best outcome for each party. He took the most unlikely candidates for jobs and made it work for the manager and the employee and always stayed connected to both. My mom frequently talks about his ability to make her feel better no matter the situation and talk her through how to proceed. Even with me, I could tell him about drama in my personal life with friends or colleagues and he'd give great advice even though a female teenager and her friends are probably one of the farthest demographics from his. One of my Brother's friends once sought him out to talk about life and his future, and his parents to this day still remember fondly how helpful he was. And that is all in me, too. I'm so happy I realized how connected I am to him in this way, and now as I fill those shoes, a real piece of him will live on. One of the last things I told him was that I would keep making him proud and now I not only have a tangible way to do it, but it allows others who can recognize that piece of him in me to be proud of him.

Check-In

Since most of my time is at work, I thought it would be interesting to do a "high level check-in/touch base" like what I have to do at work with my blog.

I started it to start writing again, it was lacking in my life and this was supposed to motivate me to do it. I have been writing more, which is great. When I started it some how these little essays and observations are what came out, inspired from what was happening in my life. I liked them, I continued with them.

My Mom recently shared that a close friend of the family read my blog and was enjoying it. Then she said, its been sad. My blog that is, not him reading it. And, it has. Many of my recent posts have been written while crying, or with my throat feeling full and the need to cry being stifled because I was at my desk at work. (See most of my time is at work). I started to think, is that bad? Should I re-shift the focus? Should I start using it really to write fiction/creatively. Thus, the check-in. Then I realized that its been good for me to get out what I'm feeling in this form and share my observations, as sad as they are. I'd also like to think that its a place where people can see how I'm doing too, cause I know they want to ask.

So- my blog is good- I hope. Its going in a good direction and I'm happy with it, as sad as I am and the tone of my posts have been.

Please, feel free to comment and let me know how you feel about it - this is also a check-in for the readers.

Click

I used to sing the Toys R Us theme song and really believe it. Being a kid had so many pluses. You had a carefree lifestyle, imagination could run wild, fun was easy to find.

Now, I find, I'm so ready to grow up. I'm already in the grown up relationship... but why am I still living a state away from him and having to say goodnight over the phone? I want to come home to him everyday, I want to make plans with friends any night whether he's visiting or not and not worry about not seeing him, because I see him everyday, I sleep in the same bed with him every night. I want to cook dinner together, I want our things to be in one place... I want to really share space with him, settle in with him, not be constantly living out of travel bags in his place or mine on short weekend visits.

I want my own place, that I can do what I please with. A place I can leave my dishes in the sink and know they are mine and I'll clean them when I want (admittedly probably right away as I'm an anal cleaner) but if I want to leave them there I don't want to feel guilty about it! I want to fill the place with my own things, buy great furniture, hang up my pictures, paint if I please... decorate to stay not throw some stuff in to make it nice now, but not put too much effort because I know I'm leaving in a year, to two years.

I want to fast forward through this in between time. And yet, I have learned the necessity and meaning of living in each day, and cherishing what you have in that day. I'm thankful for the moments I get to spend with my family and friends, I know on a deeper level how quickly life can change, life can be taken away. Every moment I get to spend with my Bubba (a variation of the Yiddish word for grandma) learning about her life, allowing her to learn about mine and feeling the love passing between us I cherish. Visits with my grandparents now always end with I love you's. And I love them and their warmth, the happiness I feel coming into their home, how much I look forward to my Grandmother's cooking, the plans they'll make for us, the stories they'll share with us. I look forward to all the times I get to spend with all of them, I don't want to fast forward through that. Except, I'm so urgently looking forward to settling in with Matt, having a place of my own, maybe not feeling on so many days that life sucks. I'm sorry, I just can't think of a more poetic way to put it. Life Sucks.

Part of grieving is living through it, letting yourself feel and understand the loss you've experienced. I can do that, I know I can't fast forward through that. Yet, there are other things around me that compound the suckiness, I need those to be fast forwarded. I know I can't though. I didn't even see the movie Click, but I know what the moral was. If you fast forward to the good stuff, you miss the little things that matter, the major milestones you don't even see coming. Like realizing you can do it, you can live through the process of moving into the next step in your life, you don't have to fast forward to get there, you just will.

Sunday Mornings

This morning the Boy and I woke up lateish, but not too late to feel like we'd wasted the day. It felt like a Sunday morning in every aspect and I immediately suggested breakfast. We made our way to a favorite spot. The Boy said it would be too busy, we'd probably have to wait, I had faith. I got in line while he parked and had a table within minutes. After breakfast we picked up a fresh copy of the Globe and headed to my porch. There was a soft breeze, plenty of light and enough news to keep us busy for a good hour plus. I must admit, it was delightful. Later in the day I cleaned up the apartment, and watered the plants. It was the kind of Sunday morning I always wish for. Feeling connected, enjoying each others company, spending quiet moments together that often mean more than the passion and romance most people yearn for.

Next Sunday will be our last opportunity for a Sunday morning like todays for awhile. Sunday mornings after will be the end of the visit day, and those days suck. In the grand scheme it isn't too long for us to wait until every Sunday morning will be an opportunity for breakfast out, the paper on a breezy porch and quiet moments. I'm just sick of waiting.

With Extra Milk Please

This morning I took out the big coffee cup. I wanted lots of milk, and this one is perfect for that. As I sat at my Mom's kitchen table and started to enjoy it, I remembered all the mornings Dad had made me lattes in this extra big cup because he knew how much I loved my extra milk. I really miss him. Sure I miss the lattes- our espresso maker (Sylvia) revolted the day we called hospice and actually blew up when my Mom went to turn her on- but really I miss him. I miss weekends at home, coming downstairs and doing my best daddy's girl voice to get him to make me a latte. I miss drinking it slowly, taking it in, getting made fun of for letting it get too cold (I can't drink them when they're super hot) and getting to tell Dad how good it was. I miss him teaching me how to make them; with all the little steps he had created for it. The little things I would probably do if we had Sylvia back.

There is so much around me that makes me miss him, I got a flyer for an upcoming folk festival in New Haven- We went last year to see Richard Thompson and before Richard came on Dad and I walked around the booths looking at funny political bumper stickers and pins, waiting for hot water for tea and eating kettle corn- and immediately threw it out, I couldn't be reminded of it in that moment.

Sometimes its not as real, I can avoid the memories, avoid the moments in which the reality of his death is clear and present. Sometimes it’s unavoidable, like using the cup he probably last made me coffee into. And in those moments, I have to let the memories crash over me; I have to feel the pain and sadness that accompanies them and the other memories that float up too. They all crash over me. And as they do, my coffee can cool down.

Have the Energy to Clean your house and your Teeth while you Save Money and Write smoothly...

Some more products I'm very excited about!

1. Mr. Clean Magic Eraser:

This product is amazing. I think my roommates’ Mom first introduced it to me when we were moving into our apartment a couple of years ago. It removes everything and so easily. You don't have to fuss with spraying something on a surface, getting a sponge wet, wiping it up, rinsing the sponge, wiping the surface some more, trying to get all the soap out of the sponge and off of the surface, etc. You just get it wet, squeeze it dry, and wipe the surface clean. It slowly disintegrates as you use it, so you don’t' even have to worry about is it dirty? Can I still use it? It’s the perfect tool for renters since it cleans up left over grime on all bathroom surfaces, in the fridge and on counter tops. Seriously- go get one today.

2. Crest Whitestrips:

These really do work. I can't vouch for any of the other tooth whitening products. But I've used these on two occasions, actually just finishing up my second time using them, and I really notice a difference. The whitening lasts too. I did them about 10 months ago, and my teeth really had retained the whiteness. I decided to do them again to encourage the Boy to do it with me. He'd never done any kind of whitening before and they've really worked on his teeth too- so it’s not just me! I don't remember if it was the whitestripe commercials that make it seem like you can go about your normal business with them in- but you can't. I usually do them in the morning on the drive to work and then at night before bed. They are a little unwieldy to put on and your teeth are really gooey after you take them off, but you get the hang of it and it’s worth it. So if you're thinking about doing some teeth whitening, try 'em out!

3. Dunkin Donuts Turbo Iced Coffee:

I know this isn't anything new or unknown for most people, so maybe it doesn’t' qualify as cool-hunting... however I really do find that this helps me get my day started. Having that shot of espresso really makes a difference for me. Lately I've been going to bed later and waking up later, so I really don't have time to wake up and move slowly in the mornings. Having this to drink at my desk really perks me up, and helps to hide the fact that I'm not quite awake yet!

4. ING Direct Savings Accounts:

You've probably seen the commercials with the orange ball and though, huh that's cool, like I did and then did nothing about it. Well, I finally opened one up a couple of years ago and it’s been great! The interest rate keeps going up, and it is so easy to transfer money in and out of it. You can also set up an automatic withdrawal which is perfect for me, because I don't have to think about saving money it’s doing it for me! I highly encourage you to check ING out, and if you want I can send you a referral so we'll both make money if you open an account!

5. Uni-Ball Vision Exact Pens:

I'm a dork, I love office supplies. I get excited about going to staples. I'm always on the search for good pens, and these are great. They are much finer than normal roller pens which is great because they don't smear as much as other roller pens and they really are comfortable to hold. I also really like the look of them, really compact and sleek with a nice snapping top that comes off and goes back on easily. If you're in need of some nice pens, pick up a pack of these, they come in fun colors too!

Only in Dreams

He was so close. He put his arm around my shoulder, giving me a side hug. We were running together and buying bottles of water, not that we'd ever done that before, but it was great. I commented, wow who would have thought after being so sick and with such a bad prognosis we'd be running together in a few months. We all shook our heads and smiled. It was so nice, it felt so real. Then I woke up. Then it felt really far away and upsetting... a new realization. A new thing I'll never get to do with him again. It still feels like it happened, like yesterday I was running with him, giving him hugs. I don't think that will ever go away.

Grief Roles

He never was a typical youngest child. He didn't ever fit into that role. If I think back I would say we were treated as equal. There was no putting the oldest on a pedestal and blaming the youngest for everything, not to say I didn't try to make it appear that way, there was no the oldest gets all the perks and the youngest just deals with it. We were both expected to be good kids, to achieve in school, to help around the house, to participate in family events, time, trips. Our roles were to be equals in the family life, one just did it before the other, one was just older. And we played those roles, all of it. He looks up to me, as a youngest usually does and has followed a similar path as me, which I'd call normal. But that was really the only typical piece of the youngest role he'd chosen.

And now, he's taken on a new role... a role that I can't tell if it's normally given to the youngest... He keeps pulling us back together. Not that we've separated except to try and figure out/return to our "new normal".

At the funeral we were each separated by the people that had come to support us. My mom sharing grief and condolences with work colleagues, I connecting with an old friend who'd just been through the same experience as me. He pulled us back together- and the rest of the night was spent as our threesome.

We spent the next week plus together. Mourning, spending time, starting to shape our new lives. We'd gone separate ways for about a week, Mom and I back to work, him to Europe on a trip that had been planned for years, when he pulled us back together again. We spent the next week again together, mourning, adjusting, planning on the next steps.

Life seemed to start being shaped into our "new normal". Weekends were spent together, work got back underway, we were adjusting, incorporating the loss into our lives. He came to me, a visit, but brought me home with him in tow... he needed to pull us back together again. More weekends were spent at home, more time together, adjusting, processing, being in the same place.

Things seemed to really be shifting back to something normal, work was becoming easier for me, Mom had gone on her first business trip and left him home alone. It wasn't meant to be... he pulled us back together again. There is still more to be figured out. Looking back I can tell I was starting to lose the path of processing, I was pushing it below the daily needs of life, I wasn't creating a "new normal" I was trying to go back to the "old normal".

I guess we all have to take it a bit more slowly. He doesn't even really know or understand it, he's just in the role that pulls us back, even against his will. Maybe its because he's the youngest. Maybe this is a role a youngest is supposed to take when faced with incorporating grief.

A family friend sent a card at the beginning of the process commenting on the loss of her grandmother. She told a story about wanting to jump back into life, into her "new normal" and her parents resisting. They explained that in Judaism you are supposed to truly mourn for a full year, to reduce trips, work, happy events and occasions. She didn't understand it then, but as she grew she appreciated what her parents had done. She sees it in our family's adjustment process. There is a reason to limit activity, its just hard in the reality of life.

Maybe it will take a year for us to get it right, to balance the needs of life and the needs of grief, maybe there will be a shift and we'll go back to our previous youngest and oldest roles, as minor and indifferent as they were. No one can really say, there aren't clearly defined roles, there isn't a well lit path. I don't even know what my role is. But the one he's playing now is making a difference. Its keeping us in-tune to what we're going through. I'm processing more, realizing I had stopped. Maybe my role is to support him in his, maybe we've reversed our youngest and oldest roles. I should now follow him in his path, maybe now he's leading the way.

Water World

Why is it that living on the water is so appealing? I know its not just me, either. As Jaimie and I were lounging on deck chairs lake front this past week she mentioned a recent conversation with a roommate of hers (they have an ocean front apartment) about if they'd rather have waterfront property at the ocean or a lake. I immediately said lake. And I don't know why.

I've grown up with lakes as the visited body of water, yet oceans have been prominent too. My grandparents live near the ocean and visits there meant visits to the ocean, sailing, swimming in a salt water pool. I never complained. And yet, lakes are much more appealing. The calm you get just before sunset, the inky darkness of the water at night, the vast stretches of tree lined shores offering possibilities beyond the water, the feeling of being under, within, among the water when you first dive in.

Maybe my preference for lakes stems back to a summer vacation spent in Bethany Beach, Delaware. It was just after their hurricanes had come through and the waves were huge. I being a fearless child was thrilled to have such large waves to jump into and swim through coming out victorious, wet and salty on the other side. Unfortunately one afternoon I stood ready for the wave (to my young viewpoint it seems 15 feet tall in my memory) that was heading our way, but I misjudged and jumped too late. I was turned and flipped within the waves rip tide and spun out on my head in the end. As I stood up to catch my breath and determine how scared I was (do I go back for more laughing, or run looking for my mom) another wave knocked me over and flipped me around again. I went crying for my mom and didn't go back in that year or the next.

The ocean seems wild and unpredictible to me. Lakes too have mystery in them, and yet its a peaceful one that doesn't exhibit through yearly storms, posionus tides and large fish. Their waters are frequently calm and inviting, and I already have enough wildness in my life, I've dealt with more than one wave flipping me over and landing me on my head, I need the lake side retreat to balance me out. So- have a house you want to donate?

Independence Day

I spent today alone. It was kind of nice. A lot of my perspectives have changed in the last two months, and this may mark a pretty drastic one. Usually I'm all about having a day to myself to wake up when I want and do as I please. I however have never felt the same about holidays. I want plans with family or friends, a place to go and people to see. I wouldn't want to go back to work and have to say, oh I spent it alone while everyone talks of the fun things they did. Today was different though. I took the day slowly and did whatever I wanted. Sure I felt a little sad in moments, but it wasn't because I was alone, it was because right now I'm sad a lot. It felt good to just go out and do "my own thing". I took the day in one moment at a time and never once regretted being alone. I even got trapped in one of the downpours in a white shirt and I didn't care, I just came home and changed.The only negative thing that may come out of spending this day alone is that other people may feel sorry for me, but don't. Please don't. A lot of figuring out where life is going to take me now is figuring it out on my own. Today was my independence day, there may not have been fireworks but I'm still celebrating.

Winds of Change?

Is it cliche... to point out how windy it is today, and perhaps it means there is change coming? Does every day mark a day of change? Maybe because its so windy today, it feels like something really is moving... changing. Have I even answered my question? Oh well.

Today the winds of change are truly blowing wild and free. I hope its change for the good that they are bringing, but I feel lately its only change for the worse. And, for some reason the winds make me feel optimistic again. Like they are blowing away all the bad, all the saddness, all the "things just keep getting worseness" and bringing in something new. New air, to breathe and take in, a new outlook on life and loss. Maybe it really is just every day bringing change. Everyday helps you move on, everyday there is a little bit of wind to change the air, change the mood, change the path.

Well I'll just keep sitting here rocking on the porch and let the wind fall over me, blow around me, fall onto me, and hope that the change they're bringing is good.

Cool Hunter

This post is dedicated to my Mom

I'm always on the look out for new products, anything from something to clean a bath tub to a great new piece of jewelry. I very much enjoying sharing the new things, ideas, places I find and figured blogging about it would be the ultimate way to share- so here goes.

These are the things I'm most excited about right now:

1. Tide to Go Sticks:
These really do work! When I was in Rome I pretty much wore the same pair of gauchos everyday, they were comfy, breathable and I could eat a lot while wearing them. The eating caused a couple of stains. Normally I would have washed them, I was in Rome though so I used the Tide to go- and it worked like a charm. This morning, I split a little coffee on my cute pink cardigan- no worries, I've got Tide to go. Last week my co-worker got oil on her shirt- I removed it swiftly with the Tide to go stick... I'm telling you they work and fit easily in a purse. Go get one!

2. Clorox Wipes

I love these. I have them on the counter at home for cleaning up after cooking, in the bathroom for wiping up weekly to keep the bathroom cleanish and on my desk at work for cleaning up after lunch and just in general. I love the lavender scent- but you can't always find it- the fresh scent is also nice and usually available. Method also makes these, and while I love to support them and their products the scents aren't good- too cleanerish. I recently purchased the Target brand for my pack on my desk, just to see since they are cheaper- and I'm warning you- there's a reason to spend extra to get clorox. I can't get the Target ones to come out of the container without them ripping into small pieces. Never again.

3. Fred Flare Aviators

Avs are so in, and have been for some time. At first it was super hard to find good ones that weren't super expensive- and you can go so wrong with aviators. These are the best- I'm telling you. And, they are super cheap- only $8! I love them. Go get them. Look great on Men and Women. The site itself has some fun, funky stuff- but I can't vouch for anything but the avs- I love them.

4. Silver Goose Jewelry

I think this jewelry is great. I love that you can get anything monogrammed, and the jewelry is super cute. I got a necklace there about a year ago and still get compliments on it when I wear it. I actually just ordered a monogrammed ring as I wrote this post. Its great- and so affordable. The necklace has gotten a bit worn looking because I wore it so much, however I'm sure I could easily clean it- and I don't take the best care of my jewelry. Its a great place to get gifts for friends, family, bridesmaids, groomsmen etc. And... they have more than jewelry! Definitely check them out!

5. American Apparel V-Neck Tee

I love this t-shirt. I would wear it everyday in various colors if I could. It is comfortable, breathable, can be dressed up or down and just all around plain great. The fit is definitely geared towards women, which is great and they aren't one of those t-shirts that as the sizes go up they get wider instead of overall larger. I usually order online because its so easy, but I know they have stores on Newbury St and bunch in NYC. I will warn you- I ordered some undies from here and the size scale was not what I was expecting- I ordered my usual size and they were tiny. Overall a definite must if you're looking for great t-shirts

Those are my 5 for now... look for more soon!

The Three Legged Stool

When I was young we frequently ate Friday night dinners at our close family friend's house. I would most often walk in and head straight to one of the three bar stools seated at their kitchen counter/peninsula. I loved sitting up there, while the adults mingled in the kitchen. Sometimes I would color, while drinking my Epsom Sunrise (They live in Epsom, NH and I was much too young to know it was a virgin Tequila Sunrise), sometimes I would just chat, other times I'd dance on the counter, or put my hair up in the crown that covers bottles of Chambord. If I was lucky, I'd get to eat at the counter perched on my stool.

Sometimes we moved to the living room or TV room, but most nights were spent in some form of eating in their large, open kitchen. I loved sitting up on the counter stools. I felt important, adult, and the center of attention. As the years passed and I grew up and moved out I would often return for visits home and end up eating there at least one night out of the visit. I still headed right for the bar stools and if I didn't sit up on one, I would at least stand nearby that counter talking and eating appetizers.

The stools did such a good job of holding me up, keeping me high allowing me a feeling of freedom and importance. I had a place to sit, a place to go and it gave me access to what everyone else was doing.

Now, I'm a part of a newly formed three legged stool. We're going to hold eachother high when we need to be, offer a place to climb onto if one feels like they're falling, a place of importance and belonging, but freedom and indpendence too. I don't know for certain if the family friends' stools were four or three legs, but I do know that even if one of the legs had to be removed, I'd still go sit on them and they'd still hold me up.

Stuck in Puddles

During the recent rain, not only towns throughout New England flooded, but my car did too. Literally, I was scooping puddles of water out of the floor with a plastic cup.

On a recent drive from Worcester to Boston I had the time to listen to some new CDs, one of them from one of the two weddings I missed during the Spring due to my Father's illness and death. I popped the CD in, not really looking forward to the love songs- but curious to hear them, see what they'd put on it. It immediately popped back out, rejected. I should have taken that as a sign, but instead I shoved it back in and this time it took, but wouldn't play, so I hit eject. It didn't eject. It was stuck. I shook my head looking at the CD player and the puddle on the floor of my passenger seat. And I realized, in all honestly, I didn't care that much. One of the major shifts in my life- the little things really don't phase me as much any more. I instead just switched over to the radio. Then I decided to play with it for a little bit, just to see. Just because the little things don't matter as much doesn't mean I'm not still fidgety and curious. I popped the face of the CD player off and fiddled with the CD inside. I put the face back on and tried again, it played! Ultimately I skipped over most songs, not able or wanting to focus on much of them. When I got home and tried to eject it, so I could take it inside and never play it again in my car, it wouldn't come out. I turned the car off, again not really caring, fidgeted some more with it, tried again with no luck and easily gave up. I threw some more paper towels on the floor of the car and went inside.

The next day as I got in my car, my head shaking at the new puddle that had formed, I turned the key and heard the CD pop out. It made the puddle not so bad.

F-ing Father's Day

I have to admit, I'm starting to hate Father's Day. Its everywhere, and my pain is still so fresh and real that its almost like pouring salt in my wound. Every commercial, every catalogue (and the internet shopping me gets a lot of them), every advertising email(again the internet shopping me gets a lot of them). They all happily talk about the lovely upcoming Father's day and all the lovely ideas for your lovely father.

I delete them with anger and frustration, thinking, "Leave me alone I don't have a father I can buy anything for, and besides I already had gotten him something (tickets to a red sox game along with 3 others, so the whole family could go) and now I have to attend that something without him.

I'm thinking about him and what living without him is going to be like constantly, and now I have to be reminded how loads of other people still have their fathers and they get to celebrate him while I make plans to visit the family he's left in his wake and perhaps put flowers on his grave. Father's day sucks. I don't need a day to celebrate him, I never did, anyway- I celebrated him constantly. We were close, I was a reflection of him in so many ways and just by becoming a successful adult I was celebrating him. I still celebrate him and his memory, every day as I figure out what living without him is going to be like, and how I can continue becoming a reflection of him and what he would have, was, could have been.

Then, I feel guilty, because I'm so happy/thankful for my family and friends who do have Father's to celebrate and should be. Family is so important. I want my friends to be making plans to spend the day with their Fathers and thinking of wonderful gifts to give him to honor him and thank him for being a wonderful Dad.

But, then, deep down I still resent and am annoyed with Father's day. Maybe because its coming so soon after losing mine, maybe if it had been a year after I wouldn't be hating it so much as it approaches. Who knows. I guess we'll see how I feel next year, I have a hunch it will be very similar.

The San Giacomo Psych Ward Tour

There was the "Scar Doctor" because we never got his name- he had serious reconstructive scars around his chin and cheeks and was very present in our first 2.5 days at San Giacomo Psych Ward. At the end of the 2nd day he came across us on the phone near the elevator. As he waited to go down, he asked my mom how she was. She explained that as the anxiety from Sammy's ordeal lessened the grief came back very strongly. He revealed he had lost his 3 year child 6 months earlier. As we gasped and offered our sympathies he simply said, "It is hard, yes... and it is possible".

There was Bernardo- the multi-lingual "International Thief", he was released on Monday to his family who wouldn't accept his kisses. He made sure Sammy got up for meals and often translated when the orderlies were attempting to communicate with us. He says he has 10 months off and enough money to come to the states and stop by Northwood, the Dr. says he doesn't see him leaving Italy anytime soon.

There was Jessica- the street worn, sockless smoker, who always said hello and was ever appreciative of cigarettes we bought for Sammy to give out. She taught us how to count in Italian and we taught her 1-10 in English. We speculated she had come from a history of abuse and perhaps lived on the streets.

There was Valentina- the young outgoing makeover queen of the ward, who had a penchant for cigarettes and Sammy. Alison says she was there from the beginning and only started to come out of her shell when Sammy was more awake. I remember her family on the 2nd day handing out pastries and cookies and her happily walking the ward. She drew many pictures for Sammy and every day we returned a new female patient would have her face done up.

There was Stephano- the pony tailed non-English speaker who was friendly and sweet. He had outdoor smoking privileges and told Alison he was one of 7 and had to stay till Sunday and had already been in the ward for 9 weeks. I remember his family coming once, but mostly he was left alone to chat with other patients and give Sammy high fives.

There was Mary the one with roots strongly coming through died blonde hair who told us she was there from a depression crisis. Her sister visited frequently and walked the hall with her. Her mother came on Tuesday with a new pink outfit for Mary. Valentina's makeover of her included putting her hair up in a way that made her roots less noticeable.

There was Josie who arrived on Sunday bugged eye and pajamaed. She spoke small bits of English with us and enjoy the M&M's we brought.

There were others we never met, or who mostly slept. I'm sure there will be many more. They will remain a part of this experience that made it in many ways more real and in others more surreal. They made us a show, something that entertained them- The sleepy American boy and his family that comes everyday at 10, 4 and 8- and also reminded us of the realness of life, the reality of living each day, how hard the world can come crashing down on you at times, and yet, how, it is possible.

Real Rome

I was drawn to the people- the realness of Rome, perhaps because it was the realness of life that brought to Rome.

Rainy Greens

Everyone keeps complaining about the rain. I have to agree on some levels- the sun would be nice now, I'm sure the sun would help me out.

Yet, I keep looking around at all the green that's thrived in the last week of this rain. The trees are much more lush, the yet to blossom flowers growing faster, the grass calling to my bare feet. I think all the green looks great with all this rain. I pull onto my block and think, I'm so happy to live here. All the trees surrounding the pavement are beautiful and soften it and make it nice to come home to.

So while I'll rejoice with the rest of the community when the sun does come back, I'm content to sit inside and look out at how beautiful this spring is becoming and how pretty the rain glistens on the leaves and buds.

A Picture is Worth...

I love photos. I love taking photos, I love being in photos, I love framing photos. As a result I have loads of family photos around my room. I have a picture of my parents when they were my age, I have a picture of me being kissed on both cheeks by my parents, I have a picture of my brother and I each picking up our parents, him with my mom on his back, me with my dad. I have a 4 photo frame with pictures from our trip to Costa Rica. I have a photo being held by one of those clips next to my computer of the four of us at a Red Sox game last summer. They are everywhere. I love these photos, they remind me of what a fabulous family I have, of how close and loved we are. These photos are meant to keep me happy when I'm feeling down, allow me to brag and show off my great family, and again remind me of who I am and where I come from.

Right now these photos are making me sad. They remind me of who I've lost, of the missing piece that's not coming back.

The home where I grow up has a historical wall up the main staircase devoted to family photos. Every time I walk those stairs I think of all the wonderful times I've spent with my Father, how much he loved us, and what a great Man he was. I think of how now family photos will just be three of us and that it seems odd. On family vacations we could share one room. At family gatherings we'll be the ones with no Dad.

Then I force myself to cherish the memories these photos hold. They are reminders of wonderful times we've spent together and all that my father has passed on to me and all that he was able to provide me with. These can never be taken away, they won't go missing and don't stop with his passing.

My children may not be able to meet their Grandfather, but they'll know why everyone who met him fell in love with him, what he looked like, where he took us and in me they'll have everything he passed onto me and that will only get stronger.

When One Door Closes #2

I want to open the window.

There was a baby in the Temple on Monday. My family and I walked into the sanctuary to take our front row seats, I would sit in the back row hard metal chairs for every Friday night and Saturday morning service for years before wanting the front row seats for this reason, and we heard the cooing and babbling of a young baby. It was perfect. It calmed me for a moment and really highlighted how true it is that when one door has closed, another has just opened.

Its been overcast and raining since Tuesday. Monday, when we buried my father, it was gorgeous. There were no bugs, the sun was warm and comforting and we could open all the windows in the house and let the love, laughter and most importantly new air flow through the rooms.

Sunday, after the Funeral Home came and took my Dad's body, there was a spot to clean on the mattress. We pulled the blind to the top of the window, pressed the bed right up against it and let the warm sun seep in to dry it. I felt like the sun was shining down right on that spot. It knew it needed some warmth, some comfort, and yet some way to imprint what had happened into the mattress.

I don't really believe that things happen for a reason anymore, what is the reason for what I just experienced? However, Nature has a funny way of showing up and letting you know there is a whole mysterious world that keeps on happening around you and giving you things to key into, focus on, cherish, make you feel warm. My Mom saw two Herons on her first walk after my Dad's funeral, one of his favorite birds. Monday after the funeral the sun was streaming through the clouds in those amazing rays that make you believe there is something above them, something up there.

I Know Good People

When you are looking for jobs people often tell you- "Its not about what you know, its about who you know." Who knows why, but that popped into my head today and as I thought more about it, it fit my situation quite well.

As what I know gets worse and worse, who I know are better and better. My friends send me daily emails, just checking in, just sending their love, just offering whatever they can do to help. They offer prayers, positivity, strength, love, support and in such unselfish ways it astounds me. My friends welcome plans for me every day of the week, cooking dinners, eating out, playing games, just talking about whatever it is that I feel like talking about. They've really rallied for me.

What I know is a lot of bad news, but who I know have been completely there for me. When I'm feeling down they remind me of how loved I am, how much strength they see in me and much they want to help. And then, I don't feel so down anymore. I feel the love and support instead. It is about who you know.

Thank God for that.

Dry Rain

My hands are dry. Its pouring outside. I've got juxtapositions on my mind.

There are so many flowers and living things in the house, there are constant visitors stopping by, so much living is happening in the house right now. And on all our minds is death. It doesn't mean any of us, my dad especially, is giving up. He keeps saying, "I'm going to take a couple of whacks at this." Yet, its what we're all thinking about. Its what makes people come into the house and fill it with love and support and life. Its what makes us feel like life is actually happening around us.

When everything is good, when there isn't anything serious to focus on I find that life just flies by, it just keeps moving and you keep moving with it... there isn't anything to make you stop and look around.

Cancer makes you stop and look around. I really think about each day as I'm living it. Sometimes I don't want the days to end because it means another day has moved on. I think the days move a bit more slowly now too, because I'm very focused on their movement, I see each hour pass. I think about each moment I'm in and how it relates to the next. Especially being home this weekend, timing is everything. When was the last dose of pain medications? When was the last time we ate? When are the good shows/games/movies on to watch? When do I have to leave? Not yet. Right now I need to get some hand cream.

When

When he pulls me in tightly and wraps his arms around me. When I'm laying on his chest and feel his heart beating. When I fall asleep leaning on his stomach. When I hug him from behind and his back feels strong and warm. When I'm touching the inner part of his arms and their softness calms me.

That's where I'm safe. That's when I feel secure.

When I cry, he holds me.

And I'm reminded of how safe I am, I'm reminded of the security he provides.

Waves

I can't take credit for the terminology, but it is so fitting I have to use it. The sadness, the fear, the overwhelming anxiety, it washes into you like a tide coming in pushed hard by waves. It all becomes a wave washing over you.

I was sitting in the tower room watching House Hunters wrapped up in the Boys arms last night, who could want to be anywhere else, and a wave came in. I lost focus and could only imagine the loss, the uncertainty, the question that is lingering over all of us. That Suzanne Wang was bringing us back to a young couples house hunt, and Matt's arms were holding me tightly didn't matter. All that mattered was my Dad has cancer. It was a pretty big wave. And just like that (what is that phrase anyway, is there a better way to transition?) the tide went out, and I was satisfied to be watching House Hunters on a couch with the Boy. Doesn't mean its not coming back in.

Sammy, Rachel, Matt and I went and did errands this morning; it feels so good to be productive right now. We were driving back from the seacoast with the windows down and the sun coming in. Sigur Ros was playing, and unfortunately I can't stream it through the blog but if you can find a song and listen you'll understand. We were all quiet, watching the road ahead, listening to the mellowed music, the sun warming our heads and the breeze softening the glare. I think a wave was washing into all of us. And we all had to let the tide come and wait for it to start heading back out. I asked for a music change as mine receded and everyone nodded in agreement. These moments are going to keep hitting, I know. My Mom says it may become easier to function during them, to not have to stop everything.

I sit on the porch writing this. The sun is setting behind clouds in front of me, my feet peeking above the laptop screen perched on the railing. I feel connected to the green fields that roll in front of me and the chirping of the birds around me. I feel good, I feel at peace. But I can't stay here. My feet are starting to get cold, and the hairs on my arms are raised. And a wave may be on the horizon.

The Sweet Smell Of...

As a kid we'd play the "if you had to lose one sense what would it be?" game. I'm sure I changed my answer each time.

If I had to play it now, I wouldn't choose my sense of smell. Sure it can take you places you would never ever want to go, like to the brink of vomiting. Yet, for all the times it brings me pleasure and all the memories it helps to return, I think its all worth it.

I was walking back to my apartment one afternoon when I was transfixed by the smell of laundry. It was incredibly fragrant and pure. I immediately wanted to stop and just smell it, perhaps close my eyes and sit down to really take it in. In all honesty and with all cheesiness aside, it made me happy. I literally had a bounce in my step as I continued the walk and then craved the smell later in the day. I thought about searching Yankee Candle for their clean laundry smell, but realized it wouldn't be the same. As much as I love candles and scents, none of them ever compare to the actual.

When the Boy and I were in the first and second years of our relationship, and struggling with long distance, I would keep a shirt of his tucked under my pillow to smell. I would make him wear one shirt constantly during our visits, and then hold onto it when he left, literally. He doesn't wear cologne or deodorant, so it wasn't an artificial smell. Just him, his pure smell. My brother thought it was gross, would make fun of me for wearing the shirt to bed, "Eww, you smell like a boy." I didn't care, because it kept me closer to him, the smell comforted me. Recently he surprised me with a visit. He was waiting in my bedroom, the lights were off, he stood behind the door to hide and as I tried to open it and felt resistance I was at first scared and confused, but then I smelled him and was immediately relieved and excited.

I'd never want to lose the memories of those moments, or any of the moments I've connected to smells. Like muffins baking on a spring weekend morning, or the turkey roasting on Thanksgiving, or garlic sautéing for a dinner party.

And, going back to the game, I honestly don't think I could choose a sense to give up.

Crocuses

Spring is a time for change, rebirth, and renewal. It’s quite lovely. I love walking to Davis Sq. and seeing all the crocuses starting to bloom. The green stems pushing through the now warming soil, a sign of all the green that will follow and I'm green with envy. I love spring, I love all it represents. But... I don't feel any change coming. I don't feel any kind of rejuvenation; nothing is blossoming inside of me. I'm here, I'm happy, I've got good things going on... and yet nothing big is coming this season and I wish it were. Outside of the Pine St. Inn this morning, I saw a homeless man holding up a small red mirror for a homeless woman who was applying make up. I think she saw something big coming, was getting ready for the spring blossoming in her. I guess seeing that, sharing in that will tide me over for now.

A Spring State of Mind

I just switched over to a screen in one of my bedroom windows, so I could let the Spring air in. I'm so glad its finally here. This is the day I love- the day when it really truly feels like Spring is coming. The day they predicted would be gloomy and bring thunderstorms- not spring thunderstorms, spring isn't here yet thunderstorms- is sunny, with clouds yes- but springy clouds, and warm and the breeze it is just so Spring.

Tomorrow we change the clocks- spring forward. I don't enjoy losing an hour of sleep in the morning, but gaining that extra hour of light is magnificent. When it started to stay light for my drive home from work I was happy, but now I can go to the gym, stop and get dinner and it will still be light when I drive home. That is Spring.

Its still cool in my apartment, the sun hasn't fully seeped in yet, I think it will take a couple more weeks for it to warm up. But when I come home from walks hot from the weather, I can still cool off here. I know I'll be complaining about it being hot in my apartment in a couple of months, so I suppose I can enjoy the coolness now.

Everyone is out doors. I walked through Porter Square yesterday and everyone was outdoors. People are walking down my normally quiet street, they're sitting on sidewalks chatting, talking on porches as their children play on bikes. The postman is even wearing shorts. Guys are tuning up their bikes. Its SPRING.