For Uncle David, Pug, Jonny, and millions more

The first memory I have of a Veteran is that of my Uncle David. I didn't understand what the word meant but I knew he was one. David had a smile that matched the size of his enormous heart. And his hugs...he would crush you if you let him, they were so very tight. He had a very beautiful family, 3 beautiful children. Anyone who was in David's presence felt immediately that the world was a better place for having known him. David was a Veteran of the Vietnam War. While he was one of the lucky ones to come home. History shows us that he did not come home to the welcome he deserved. I remember in my political youth, I once said that while I certainly apposed the Vietnam War. I would never feel nothing but tremendous pride in my brave Uncle David. As a kid I used to wish that I could travel back in time so that perhaps I could have given him the welcome home he so deserved. In High School when I visited the Vietnam Memorial I was overcome. Inconsolable I could only sob "there are so many names". The memory tears me up to this day. I also remember seeing fellow classmates etching names of relatives and I was so grateful that my Uncle David came home. Unfortunately David still left this world far too soon, but there is not a Memorial or Veterans day that goes by that I don't think of him. David instilled in me the awareness that while you can disagree with WAR you must always be grateful to the people who love their country so much, that they are willing to sacrifice themselves.

Pug, our former landlord (funny how that just sounds like such an inappropriate way to describe him to me) and dear friend. Has eyes that light up when you see him. He is always so kind and always has all the time in the world for you. He has this hearty laugh and is just a very very wonderful soul. I'm honored to know this Korean War Vet. My life has been so enriched by our many discussions about life and war. I think of him today.

And my sweet cousin Jonny, I can fill volumes with my pride for him. By far the most loving and tenderhearted boy I have ever met. He deserves nothing but the best in this life. He is so talented, and brave, and smart, patient and kind. And he is the first person I've known that has really brought about a new level of understanding when it comes to war. Jonny is an Iraq War Veteran. And I look at Jonny as a mother looks to a child. I see the invisible scars, the private war that wages in him. I learned from him that the sacrifice of our armed forces does not end on the battlefield. It continues on long after the tour is over. And they all continue to face it with a bravery that floors me with it's magnitude.

I think of them and all the other sons and daughters, that have and continue to make a sacrifice I will never be capable of.

Including:
Ernest James Brownley Sr.
Ernest James Brownley Jr.
Phillip Brownley
Evan Campbell
Roscoe Liverman
George Liverman
Edward Plympton Brown I.
Thomas O'Hara


Regardless of whether you feel a war is just or not, The love and devotion they show to this country through their sacrifice is a gift that none of us should ever take for granted. On the battlefield and off.

I offer my simple and humble... Thank You.

In an attempt to be more honest

My blog has not been the only thing I've neglected of late. There have been a few close friends that I've pushed away. In the interest of staying honest with myself and learning how to be more open with those that love me, about my feelings. I sent this recently to 3 very special friends that have been in my life for 10 plus years that I found myself pushing away lately.

This letter also lays it out the reason for my absence as of late.

I hope you don't think less of me by sending this to a few others but this is something that needs to be said to all of you.
I have so much to say its hard to know where to begin. Recently it was made aware to me that I’ve been this person that everyone else finds it so easy to turn to when the seas of life get rough, yet when the storm clouds close in on me, I don’t give those who love me the chance to help me weather the storm.

This is me, reaching out.

It would be a mute point to tell you that things have not been right with me for a long time. It all started about 2 years ago. Sure there has been a few rays of sunshine, there has been calm seas. But hindsight is always 20 /20 and I’ve realized that its always been on the surface, I’ve just been pushing it deeper and deeper. Recently someone said that it feels like they have been pushing all these bad things down in a bottle. Just shoving them down just to get by, just to function. They packed it so tight that it has burst, shattered beyond repair. This person is my husband. My bottle has not yet shattered but it's most certainly cracked.

There have been things that I’ve hidden, from myself and from you. Partly from shame, partly because I kept telling myself “fake it till you make it..” The first thing is my hearing. I didn’t want to have the problems I did. I could see my father and grandfather and know how bad it was going to get. And I just couldn’t accept that that was the road I was going to head down. It was a joke, “Fran hears what she wants to hear” “how can you ear a pin drop from another room but can’t hear me when I call you?” And heaven help me I really wanted it to be in my head. I’ve come to the cold hard realization that it’s not. And I’ve done a lot of damage to my life because of my ignorance. I’ve avoided friends and social and/or professional situations all because I felt like a leper. So many of those I love have no idea the severity of my social phobia, they’ve known something was legitimately wrong with my hearing (it’s obvious and I know that) But do you realize that over the years there have been entire conversations I have winged. Grasping at straws to try and piece together what you were trying to relay to me? And the past two years it’s gotten worse. Much worse. I wouldn’t wish my worse enemy what I’ve experienced at times. There was one day when Stella and I were alone for a while; I was in the kitchen and doing a few errands outside as she was supposed to be sleeping. I realized that she had been down for a while and I hadn’t heard a peep. I walked in to her room and never before and never since had she been so distraught. She had been crying, screaming for quite awhile. And I never heard her. I was in the same house and I couldn’t hear her. My nightmares are filled with the cries I walked into that day. My hearing is VERY VERY bad. I have what is called reverse slope hearing loss. And if my “slope” went forward, I would have a speech impediment. That‘s how bad it is. And I’ve been told that my hearing could be slightly (he said emphasis on the slightly) better to that of my legally deaf father, or it could be worse. That because my loss is genetic I can look to him as a here is where you're going to be 20 years from now. I’ve only very recently embraced this, embraced the fact by trying to ignore it all these years has been more of a handicap than being deaf will ever be. Hearing aids are in the works, as well as sign language classes. Learning to enjoy social situations again, that’s taking some time but I know I’ll get there.

Here comes the second and perhaps biggest thing I need you to know

Ned had a nervous breakdown about a year and a half ago. I can’t say that one particular thing caused it. At the time there were things, things that we really couldn’t control, that cracked that bottle. Knowing what I know now, this was going to happen whether or not those things came to pass or not. He was suicidal, and we for a few weeks seriously considered hospitalizing him. He started therapy and for a little while the seas calmed. We would go a few weeks and then the storms would come raging back in. I battened down the hatches and locked out the world. I couldn’t break down to anyone, less I would lose the strength my daughter needed. Less I lose the strength I needed to get out of bed in the morning. And life, not giving a damn what you are going through at home also smacked me around. We lived in a town that when you fiercely protect details about your life, people in that town decide that you must have something to hide and make up their own theories about you. And the pressure from home and work just pushed me to a point where I was not handling anything-well AT ALL. Again, it’s life; I know that it’s never meant to be perfect. But soon between Ned’s breakdown and some other situations we decided to leave as soon as possible to start fresh, we didn’t expect the grass to be greener, just perhaps the weather would be a little nicer.

And it was for a short time. And heaven help me, I meant no disrespect by not calling or contacting you. But I had my happy family back for the first time in a long time. And I didn’t want to waste a second of it. Probably because somewhere down inside I knew it wouldn‘t last.

Two weeks ago. After one of the most vicious fights in our marriage, my husband broke. We immediately took him to the hospital; both his sister and I feared that his tumor had returned. His behavior was so unlike him. I had been fighting this fear for a few months as he had been getting sick and his migraines were getting worse. The scan came back clear but this meant that it was psychological.

See after Ned’s 1st breakdown, I found out that his parents are bipolar. The stories I had heard about them, and the experiences of a bipolar friend I had a few years back didn’t jive with the experiences I was having with Ned. Plus his previous psychiatrist told us that he suffered from severe depression and anxiety. But I’m sitting in the hospital with Ned that night and the Psychiatrist starts asking a particular set of questions and one by one the pieces start falling into place. He was finally diagnosed with Bipolar disorder. And he was hospitalized for a week. He’s begun what will be a lifetime of medications. But this is just the beginning of a long road for the both of us. For I have to help my heart learn as my head now knows that the horrible words that often came from his mouth (there was NEVER any physical violence) were not coming from the man that I married. I relayed that night in the hospital, the things he had said to me during our fight and Ned was flabbergasted and distraught that he would ever say such things to me. He doesn’t remember them. And countless doctors since have told me that he didn‘t mean them. It was in fact, his illness. But when these things were going on how could I come to you and tell you what he said to me? Somewhere inside I knew that it wasn’t him. But I also knew that if I repeated it to you that most of you would have told me to leave. Yes, I put up with it so much longer than I needed to. But I didn’t know what I was up against. And as Ned so elegantly puts it, “it’s hard to see the forest when you‘re standing amongst the trees” Ned has handled this so pro-actively. He’s educating himself; he understands the importance of his medications and therapies. He in no way wants Stella to have the same kind of family life he had. And I have made it very clear to him that if he doesn’t remain pro-active about his treatment, that Stella and I are gone. For She and I can no longer live in the kind of house we were living in. Again, he was never physically abusive. But the verbal abuse, the paranoia, the weeks of depression was really starting to get ugly. And my daughter is much too beautiful and wonderful to grow up in that kind of house. But I'm so happy to tell you though, that the Ned I love is beginning to appear again. We are laughing again. He is more patient and supportive. We are healing. Again the road will be a long one. But as long as he works hard, I will always do the same.

So here we are. We are both going to be utilizing our time here. Where the future takes us we shall see. But I know now that I cannot live my life trying to protect Ned from the world nor the world from Ned. That my happiness my fulfillment is just as important as it was before he was in my life. So I’m diving in again. And I’m nervous, excited, scared, but invigorated.

I’ve been neglectful of so many things for these two reasons. One of the most important “things” has been you. Please know from the bottom of my heart I never meant you harm. And I’m sorry I never gave you the opportunity to be there for me. I’m hoping that some day I can make it up to you.

Yours always,
Frances

You Won't Believe What Happened To Me At Ladies Night...

The other night I was ordered out of the house by the hubby and my new dear friend Dez. See they think I work too much, I do too much for everyone else BUT myself. Pshaw whatever gave them that idea I don't know.

I found myself enjoying a little ladies night and having a great time. What made it so great was that at different points in the night I found myself having some incredible conversations with some amazing women. Made all the more interesting because I found myself having one on one conversations that strangely enough ended up with familiar themes. The first part of the evening was spent talking about just how nurturing women can be especially in times of struggle. How complete strangers can swoop in to save the day even in our darkest hour as it did for one woman I spoke with who is going through breast cancer treatment. Later on I had a conversation with a friend about self worth and how sometimes it can be so difficult to feel your a worthy recipient of a good deed.

Things came full circle when I talked with Jamie about how I had to say goodbye to a friendship recently. That life no matter how hard I've fought it has just pulled me in a very opposite direction. That no matter how much either of us wanted things to be different it just became too painful as we were constantly hurting one another. She told me about how there are people who are in our lives for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. As intense as connections may be they always have a purpose and sometimes that purpose runs it's course. It was an expression I had never heard articulated so well, and I thought it was just lovely. Just like Jamie.


The next day I opened my e-mail to find a friendly forward from my friend Melissa's mom and it read.

People come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime.

When you figure out which it is, you know exactly what to do.

When someone is in your life for a REASON, it is usually to meet a need you have expressed outwardly or inwardly. They have come to assist you through a difficulty, to provide you with guidance and support, to aid you physically, emotionally, or spiritually. They may seem like a godsend, and they are. They are there for the reason you need them to be. Then, without any wrong -doing on your part or at an inconvenient time, this person will say or do something to bring the relationship to an end. Sometimes they die. Sometimes they walk away. Sometimes they act up or out and force you to take a stand. What we must realize is that our need has been met, our desire fulfilled; their work is done. The prayer you sent up has been answered and it is now time to move on.

When people come into your life for a SEASON, it is because your turn has come to share, grow, or learn. They may bring you an experience of peace or make you laugh. They may teach you something you have never done. They usually give you an unbelievable amount of joy. Believe it! It is real! But only for a season.

LIFETIME relationships teach you lifetime lessons; those things you must build upon in order to have a solid emotional foundation. Your job is to accept the lesson, love the person/people (anyway); and put what you have learned to use in all other relationships and areas of your life. It is said that love is blind but friendship is clairvoyant. Thank you for being a part of my life

It's amazing how magical life can be sometimes isnt' it?

My Hero

Grab a drink, Grab a Tissue, We are going for a ride.

One minute your living your life to the fullest. Traveling the country, hiking the Appalachian Trail, Camping, Drinking with good friends, Filling your life with good music and good memories. Practicing your craft with joy each and every day. When suddenly out of nowhere your stomach churns, Your head in vice, You can't eat, can't sleep, can't keep anything down. You reach out ask for help from the people who are supposed to know they tell you lay off the spicy food it's G.E.R.D. Your instincts tell you that isn't it. You keep getting sicker, keep asking why, and the doctors keep telling you it's all in your head. I can't imagine what those times where like. Everything you loved to do. Everything you loved giving way to painful sleepless nights desperately researching trying to find the answer. Reading through medical papers filled to the brim with words you can't understand. But this sickness keeps you up keeps you reading. There it is. Brain Tumor. What was it like that late night deep in those quiet hours reading those words? You must have been so scared love. My hero.

To walk those halls as a patient... those walls you built. Begging someone anyone to believe you. Oh my love, my hero how strong you are. How rare you are indeed. Adult Medulloblastoma a cancer found mostly in children is deep in you, a man full of life and experience. How is this? Within days they are inside. A few more days it would have been inoperable. This was just the first of many battles for your life. The fates, your body knocked you down over and over again. But you keep getting up. My hero. Some nights when you sleep your face the most peaceful I've seen in many moons. My thoughts drift to you trapped in that mask. Listening to the buzz. Listening to Norah Jones ad-nauseum. I whisper to you my love all the things I would have said. Imagine holding your hand. My hero.

You did it all alone. I wasn't there. My heart breaks sometimes because I wasn't. There to annoy you with mindless chatter (as I do when I'm nervous), Talk about how hot the nurse with the nice rack is (to make you laugh), To sneak you chic fil-a, To whisper to you over and over how brave, how strong you are. My hero.

Cancer is such a horrible horrible disease. What so many people don't realize is that it's more than diagnosis, surgery, and treatment. They don't tell you is just the first wave. The battle, the war, wages on for years. You never hear about the rehabilitation. You never hear about illnesses born from hospital stays or cancer treatment. You never hear about Radiation Induced Necrosis. You never hear about the immense physical pain left from surgery scars. Never hear that if the Cancer doesn't kill you the treatment just might. Never hear that if you are permanently disabled. That you will fight for the rest of your life the the right to have access to the hundreds of thousands of dollars you put into the system.

The past two weeks have been particularly heavy. Today my battle worn hero faced yet another battle. Imagine having to tell a complete stranger over and over again every single one your painful flaws. Telling them all your dark secrets. Telling them with every mintuae just how you are damaged. BEGGING them to help you lead some semblance of a normal life. PLEADING with them to give you what's rightfully yours. JUSTIFYING your pain and suffering. And you're sitting in that chair. You're choking down every ounce of pride. And you're there because of a golf ball mass of cells. You're there because you wanted to live. Your there because you would not be defeated. Your there because a brain tumor and four count em' FOUR pulmonary embolisms didn't kill you. When they said you wouldn't walk again you walked. When they said you wouldn't survive you did. YOU WILL NOT BE DEFEATED.

And I realize as much as I wish I had been there those first days and months. I was meant to be HERE... now. I've got your hand, I'm behind you pushing you on in those moments you just don't want to take another step. I'm the one who knows and will share with everyone and anyone how unbelievably amazing you are. How inspirational, how strong. Even if you're too battle weary to realize it. I was meant to be there with you March 14th 2006 when your daughter came into this world kicking and screaming filled to the brim with the same fire, the same fight as her dad. I was meant to be the one to tell you no matter how far away it seems. You won't have to fight forever. Happiness in life will find you again. The rewards of your courage will someday find you. To whisper to you deep in the night. "My hero, oh how I love you"

What To Say...

WARNING: IF YOU ARE EXPECTING I WOULD REALLY RATHER YOU SKIP THIS POST. COME BACK TO IT POST PREGNANCY PLEASE.


A couple of days ago, I tried to get back in touch with an old friend whom I hadn't talked to in a few months. When last we did talk she was expecting twins. Now M and her husband had been trying for a little while and before she moved away we talked a lot about her desire to become a mom (and a great one she will be at that). I couldn't imagine more together, laid back, more inherently good people like M and her husband T.

But something had been tugging at me to get in touch with her. When I did I was floored. She told me that they had lost one baby in march, and then after a tough fight they lost the second shortly thereafter in April. The babies were due sometime in Late July.

I've never known someone who's gone through this. I've had friends who have made the incredibly tough decision to terminate a pregnancy (it's their right folks and it is NEVER an easy decision and I can tell you it's a painful choice they think about constantly)

But to lose not one but two babies that were so very wanted. I'm having trouble processing this. I'm usually pretty good with words. But this, I have no idea what to say. I've picked up the phone one hundred times to call her but put it down when I can't figure out what I'm going to say when I hear her voice.

Do I act nonchalant? Do I cry? Do I say "I'm so sorry"? What will make me seem like less of a douche? What words will show her how unbelievably sad I am for her and T. How heartbroken I am for them.

But it's not about me it's about her and this incredible loss this incredible burden I don't think I could mentally and physically bare. How can I find the words that make her feel a little less alone? How can I find the words that will make the pain of her loss weigh a little less? M is such a wonderful woman and she was so very happy and excited that these two babies were coming. And to go through not once but twice hearing those dreaded words "I can't find a heartbeat" Oh god I can't stand it and I'm not the one living through the nightmare. To do the things, make the choices they've had to. No one should ever ever have to go through that.

Some people explain unexpected...unfair losses as gods will. Such a cold hearted, cold blooded god has no place in my life. When I've experienced such loss. I've tried to make sure that I as an outsider learn a lesson from the loss. Most likely it's that I can't waste a second in my life. That I have to appreciate every moment I have with those I love But this... what is the lesson in this? What reason could there be for taking away two babies from two people who would have been the best parents in the world. Such lessons they didn't need to learn. And they only solidify in me the notion that there is no god that controls our lives. That pulls the strings of our fates like puppets. If it were such the case as much misery and suffering would only be the act of the devil. So what's the answer? Why did such a horrible horrible thing happen to two such lovely people?


My dear friend M has already cried so very much. I want to do everything in my power to prevent that. But I have to pick up that phone... I have to call. I have to say something to show I care even if it's not necessarily the right thing. I have to show her that I'm here. And that her pain, her loss, is something I'd give anything to take away.

Happy Re-Birthday

I met Ned about 4 years ago. I remember our first date like it was yesterday. I went into it saying hey maybe I'll have some good conversation and get a a little action and then be on my way. (I was in this "I have no time for relationships" phase in my life)

We sat down at this little pizza joint to chat it up before our movie (which was "Saved" BTW) It was the easiest, smartest, funniest, conversation I ever remember having. It felt like we were two old friends catching up after years of not seeing each other. I walked away the next morning (after getting some mind blowing action) going "holy hell am I in trouble". He wasn't like any man I had ever known much less dated. Everything about him...about the relationship, was completely unexpected. Here I was, this dirty story writing, art & music loving, give me an indie movie and coffeehouse conversation any day of the week, tightly wound feminista. And here he was this tie-dye wearing, Jerry Garcia lovin', no heavy conversation please, give me a hiking trip on the Appalachian Trail and campfire nights, tree hugger. And from day one we fit together perfectly.

He told me even before our first date about his Cancer. He was about a year out from his surgery and radiation therapy. Being the research nerd that I am. I schooled myself on all things. Adult Medulloblastoma. Discovered that it is a brain tumor created from leftover embryonic cells and typically rears its beastly head in children before the age of 5. The instances of it occurring in someone over the ages of 19 are roughly 2%. Ned was 25. The tumor was located in his cerebellum which as you know controls balance and cognitive abilities. On the morning of March 22, 2003 the great life he once knew came to an end during a 5 hour surgery to remove the tumor. The odds were not in his favor most adults who undergo the same operation don't make it off the table. The majority that actually survive the surgery are left paralyzed or with little to no cognitive ability some even suffer blindness. He had to learn all over again how to feed himself, how to walk, Once a Master Carpenter at the top of his game he had to re-learn how to write his name with his left hand since he would never again be able to rely on the use of his right. Never a man to walk the straight and narrow, now physically walking a straight line was impossible.

Ned had to close the door on certain aspects of his life. I think for a long time he felt as though he'd never again live the kind of life he once loved so much. He had to say goodbye to his craft, which brought him so much happiness. He had to say goodbye to trips to his favorite hiking places. To this day I don't know how he survived that. Us mere mortals would have broken to pieces if we were forced to let go of even half of what he did.

I met him about a year after his surgery and treatment. We often joke that had we met one another before his cancer neither one of us would have had anything to do with the other. I've heard many a story from his friends that prove that to be true. Not a day goes by however that I don't believe with my mind, body, & soul that we were meant to be together.

I'd be lying if I told you that there haven't been dark times. There's been recurrence scares, radiation-induced necrosis scares. And when March 22nd would roll around I would find him mourning so deeply all that he had lost. Being the "sunshine up the ass blower" that I am. I would try to remind him of just how far he had come. Just how he had beaten the odds. Enter the Re-Birthday. The Re-Birthday, starting on the day of his life changing event (March 22nd, 2003) his life began anew. And each year on March 22nd we would celebrate how far he had come the previous year, celebrate being one year closer to that coveted 5 year mark. It was an intimate celebration, filled with cheesy "Your 2!" and "3 is neat!" birthday cards. I would like to think that it helped to ease the heaviness of his bad memories. I forced him to focus on the things that he had accomplished. The odds that he had overcome.

This Saturday my beloved man turned 5 years old. I was singing it from the rooftops, telling anyone and everyone who would listen. And oh what a year it had been. A few weeks ago, Ned found a new place in the world. After years of drifting, knowing that he could never be the carpenter he once was, and feeling as though he would never find something he could be that good at again. He stumbled upon something that would make him happier than carpentry ever would. Working on a vineyard. When I picked him up from his first weekend working a grape farm. It was the 2nd happiest I had ever seen him, the first being the birth of our daughter. He spends his days working the farm. Learning about wine-making. And he loves every second of it. Even on the tough days he walks in the door, covered in dirt and grinning ear to ear. He'll never know how happy I am for him. My love has found happiness again.

My daughter and I receive gifts from him that so few in this world are lucky to receive...The daily reminder to appreciate every second, never waste a minute of your life, because it can and often will be taken from you in flash. And more importantly, when the day to day struggles begin to weigh you down. When the mountains seem so hard to climb. This man did it. He swam to shore surrounded by an endless dark sea.

Happy 5th Re-Birthday Baby, here's to the first day of the rest of your life.

Casualties of Parenthood

One of the biggest & best pieces of advice that was kept from me while I was pregnant with Stella was that I would kiss just about all of my old friends goodbye shortly after Stella's arrival. I think that should be one, if not the only piece of advice that should be given to a woman in her pregnancy. Wait..nobody warned me about the stitches, but then I can't bring myself to warn a first time pregnant woman about this horrid event as I would have to relive it, so I can't say that I blame them.

But I digress...

I wish someone, anyone would have told me that just about every friend I had would fade from my life. For one reason or the other. Either they can't understand just how encompassing your child can be. Or even if they've figured out how to manage life with their kids they refuse to give you the learning time. Or worse yet, I wasn't able to figure out before it was too late, how to find the time to nurture friendships. One by one, people I thought would be in my life forever or at least for years to come have just become....Casualties of Parenthood.

And it hurts, it hurts mighty bad to know that situations, that my own action (or lack thereof), and mere circumstance has meant the end of the road for certain relationships. One lifelong friendship took a serious hit while I was in the depths of postpartum depression. She wasn't married and had never been pregnant and she just didn't understand why I couldn't find the time to talk to her. How can you explain to someone (who's never been there), postpartum depression? How do you correctly convey the fog your life becomes, the helplessness? How can you explain to them that you are so manic with love for your baby one second and ready to run down the street screaming for anyone...someone to save you from it all the next? That finding the energy to talk to anyone let alone your best friend, well it just doesn't exist then.

After my maternity leave I went back to work full time plus infinity. I was going days without seeing my daughter and was lucky to get a goodnight kiss from my husband. My job demanded a lot of emotional energy, so by the time I came home I just wanted to shut the door on the world and everyone else but my little family they were the only sane thing I could hold onto. Instead I shut the door on my career. (Enter another world flipping event. ) There has been many many months of just figuring it all out, trying to balance it all (including the checkbook)

My close friends have long understood that I go through these weird little "I need to be by myself" moments. But my life is not my own anymore, well I still own about a tenth of it. And just when I feel like I've gotten a grip on being a wife, mother, and worker bee. I realize that I've loosened my grip on a friend. I wish they knew just how terrified I was (and still am) to open my mouth to my closest friends for fear of what would come out.

The amazing thing to me is that you see women who do it all they make time for friends, family AND work. Only recently did I see the common denominator that happens sometimes in those mothers; They A) made those friendships after the entrance of baby number 1 and B) they typically live in the neighborhood. Not 45 minutes away (as my closest friend does)

Of course once the damage has been done it just gets harder and harder to get back to solid ground with them. It gets to a point you have to ask yourself is it better to just let them go, let them move on with their lives than to keep being a shitty friend? As much as my heart aches to think about walking away from them, they deserve so much more than my apologies. More importantly I can't stand the thought of hurting them anymore and I just can't see how to make it right again. It hurts when your life begins on a new path and as much as you reach for them they just can't come with you.

1,000 Oceans

The power music has over me never ceases to amaze me. A song can instantly bring sensations and memories of days past flooding back. I can attach a particular song or album to just about every single important experience in my life. It's so strong the attachment, that sometimes I find that I'll avoid listening to that artist for awhile. All throughout my life music has been a constant friend the one that understood everything. I connect to it in such a way that I know that I will never be capable of finding the right words to relay its details to you.

I've written about the closeness I've had with my mothers side of the family. The one thing that is a constant in her family is laughter. We are all a bunch of pranksters. We'll do anything for a laugh. The funniest of them has to be My Uncle Bill, who was one of the most genuine people I've ever known. He was true to himself and true to his family. He had this great laugh and vibrant blue eyes that lit up when he was setting you up for a joke. He worked very hard to give his family the life he never had. He built a successful business from the ground up and he never forgot his roots. He was a good man, a good father, a good husband, and a great uncle. My Uncle Bill and my Aunt Sharon met when she was in her mid-teens and he was a senior in high school driving a school bus (yes they used to let teenagers drive buses back then) I've heard the story a few times in my life and I often wonder what that moment was like. They were together for well over 40 years.

About 5 years ago, I watched this man fight cancer. He fought it with everything he had along with the strength his family sent his way. For a little while, there was hope. Test results showed no change good or bad. But then in September seemingly overnight it completely took over him. My humongous family camped out on the floor of his hospital. My aunt lay beside him in bed the entire time, whispering to him, caressing his hand, crying out in physical pain when he couldn't. I remember standing there thinking not of what I was losing but what she was losing. That boy who's blue eyes sparkled the first time he saw her step on the bus. That boy that took her from a life of poverty and made her a queen. That boy who from day one made sure that he made her laugh every single day of her life.

Soon after his death I went to a Tori Amos show. She played her song "1,000 Oceans" It's such a beautiful song for so many reasons. And today It found me again after all these years. Looking back it's a wonder anyone actually heard the song around me through my sobs. I remember that cool night surrounded by stars in the amphitheatre, the blue lights that swept Tori, the stage, & audience. That song will forever be intertwined with my uncle's passing. Watching a woman tell the love of her life that it was okay to go. I pray that I will never have to utter those words. I pray that I will never have to cry 1,000 Oceans. And now those feelings are mixed with something new. A reminder that I do have a great love worth crying 1,000 Oceans whether or not we share 10, 40, or 60 years. Though there may be some dark times. He makes me laugh every single day of my life. And I love finding any and every way to make him smile because that means I get a glimpse of those deliciously cute dimples. It doesn't make me sad. It makes me feel so unbelievably lucky.

If you care to hear the song grab a tissue and take a listen.