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.