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| Mom's house, Georgia 2/1/25, the day of Mike's funeral |
Hello, Wonderfuls!
It's been a while.
You know what they say about the best-laid plans.
Life happens... or more accurately, death happens. And then life goes on.
2025 began with the death of my uncle on January 4th. He was married to my mother's sister, Aunt Mary, for 64 years and had been in my life for all of my life.
What we had no way of knowing was that Uncle Frank was the first snowball of the avalanche.
On January 28th, my stepfather, Mike, died. He and Mom had been married 38 years. We had a strained relationship, but when my mother asked me to come, I made plans to be there for the funeral.
I drove from Texas to Georgia over two days and arrived on January 31st for what I'd planned to be a 10-day visit (plus four days of driving) to spend time with my grieving mother, who was open about her memory issues.
It became obvious nearly immediately that what to do about mom had never really been considered by any of the four of us. To be honest, that alone was stupid as hell incredibly short-sighted.
It also became clear that leaving her by herself wasn't an option, and the suggestion from other siblings that we put her into an assisted living facility went through my husband like hot lead.
We agreed that he would hold the fort down in Texas, and I would stay with Mom in Georgia, handling the inevitable post-passing aftermath of losing my stepfather while bare-knuckle, knock-down, drag-out fighting wrestling with my past.
I'd only been on the run from my own history for 24 years. That back-shelf baggage was dusty as hell.
The week before Memorial Day, Mom and I finally made the return drive to Texas for my youngest son's high school graduation. My son's achievement became an excuse to get together for a rare (based on the year's events) happy occasion. A genuine celebration where the only tears would be born of joy.
My sister flew in from Jersey, my daughter and grandson flew in from California. My other son came in from Austin. I met my second grandson, who had been born in my absence. We had four generations under one roof thanks to the above-and-beyond efforts of my sometimes saint-like (totally earned the moniker of saint on this occasion) husband, and as each member of the family arrived, we took the time to celebrate the unprecedented gathering.
In the four months since I'd left Texas for Mike's funeral in Georgia, we'd also lost my mom's older brother and twin of my newly widowed aunt, Uncle Jimmy; all three of the brothers-in-law had passed within three months and three days of each other. In addition to two more of my mother's cousins, two cars, and our beloved dog and faithful companion of 8 years, Tank.
We felt the gratitude and appreciation of the time with each other acutely.
To be fair to Death and Time, every one of the people (and vehicles) that we lost was of an advanced age. Some seemed healthier than others, but none of them was a complete and utter shock other than my stepfather (due to our short sightedness) and Tank, who it turned out had cancer and his newly acquired habit of whining was no doubt due to a level of pain we didn't understand; he was gone so quickly we hadn't figured it out. We were at least comforted for his being out of pain despite being blindingly heartbroken by his loss.
It also clarified that unto every life is the certainty that to those we leave behind, we will indeed serve as either an inspirational story or a cautionary tale. Sometimes both.
In between losing Uncle Frank and Mike, I found out about a childhood friend of mine being diagnosed with a very aggressive form of cancer. We reconnected after I wrote my book, and she was absolutely wonderful about mentoring me in the process that she had been through during her author journey.
From childhood, Lora has always been larger than life. Almost every day, she posts another video of her reading from Beat Cancer Daily. The doctors told her she won't finish the book. With every post, she presses forward, hoping to prove the doctors wrong. I pray for her a lot. I check Facebook after Mom goes to bed just to make sure she's still posting.
2025 equates to a 9 in numerology. Endings and transitions. Accurate doesn't even begin to describe.
In 8 days, it will be August. Other than still being married an absolute miracle considering the circumstances, and still doing online classes through WGU Hey, Aria! Starting a new class means actually STARTING the new class, not shooting the breeze with Mom for five hours every day without getting on the computer and doing the work, everything about my existence has been turned on its head.
And yet, there is rhyme. There is reason. Balance comes and goes, but there is clearly a purpose being played out. Death is a part of the grand cycle of life.
I am grateful for where I have found myself in the journey of my life; one more day trying to tip the scales from cautionary tale to inspirational story. Learning to heal my psyche regarding my past instead of ignoring it.
Also learning to take stock and balance everything that has landed on my plate.
Writing here wound up at the bottom of the stack for a while.
I've missed writing for something other than an assignment. I hope the Universe and I let me come back more often now. But only time will tell.