Leave the Light On

Do you know how many times I would text Sue to let her know that the basement lights were on? Since Hank died, she never went downstairs. It was generally one of the grandkids who left the lights on when they were getting away to play.

And last week Sunday, I texted her again that Colton had left the light on. She called the next day to laugh about her grandson and to roll her eyes at the universe. And she said she’d go downstairs to turn the light off. Which she did. 

The basement light is now on, and I can’t call her to let her know that it is. 

And I’m in my bedroom looking at her house and crying.

My Heart

 I'm not sure my heart can take any more death in 2022 - and it's only 60+ days into the year. 

I've written about my beloved neighbors in the back yard...and when Hank died early on in Covidcrap, my heart just ached. His children suffered tremendously, but no one more so than his wife, Sue.

Sue and I would talk a lot for a few weeks - then she'd be quiet again. She'd come out to say hi and wonder how the kids were doing, and then she'd go hide in her home, lonely to the point of agony.

In January, she slipped and fell - and needed more help than just stitches. So she tried - for a week. And during that time, her beloved dog, Tess, of 15 years, needed to be put to sleep. She came home to an even quieter house.

On Saturday, when the weather was warm and there was a promise in the air of bonfires and summer swims - Sue was alone in her home, mere feet from my back patio. 

Where she slipped down her stairs, hit her head - and this time, could not recover. She passed away - and joined her beloved Hank.

Her children are reeling - but in truth, our little hamlet is, too. 

I don't have words right now to process the grief I feel of my aunt, my friends, and my beloved neighbor - all gone since the start of this year. 

For now, I'll post one of our many favorite photos together - and tell the heavens that I love them both and miss them so terribly much.

Still Walking

 I'm still putting on my shoes. I'm still walking. 

Which is probably good, as my weight loss didn't stick and I am back up again. Argh! I might also blame in on hormones, so that'll be one nice thing about an upcoming little "take out the baby house" party I plan to have in about 8 weeks. Time for me to thank my baby house for its service and wish her adieu! Not quite sure that will attribute to the 25lbs I want to lose - hahaha - but it's a start.

So I keep walking - and picking up weights - and stretching. 

Ain't nobody gonna work out for me, I have to do this one myself.

Step One

 I want to write again - but I'm not sure about what.

I want to up my exercise regimen - as the two times a week strength training class isn't enough. 

I want a lot more things - but maybe that's what I'll write about...soon.

Because step one is to just sit down at the computer.

Which I have done. Go me. It's 8:45am, I can do this for a few minutes - and celebrate that after I got one kid on the bus, another kid in carpool, the dishwasher started and the counter clean, instead of sitting down, I went downstairs and walked on the treadmill for 12 minutes. I told myself 10 - but found my blog book from 2012 - where KK had just gotten to pigtails, Bubba was in SpEd preschool and we were moving for the first time.

To think of my life since in those last 10 years. It's humbling, unreal and extremely special. 

I'll be reading a few stories to my kids tonight at dinner.

Which I already got out of the freezer and is currently defrosting.

Anyway - I walked for 12 minutes which wasn't a ton, but it was 1,700 steps - all because I chose to put tennis shoes on.

Step one - Confucius was right.

And for giggles - almost 10 years ago to the day - my now-hair-farmer - just got to pig tails!

In Loving Memory

 In loving memory of my dad's oldest sister, my Aunt Shirley - you will be loved and missed. What a rich, rewarding life you led, may I be so lucky.

Kiss my grandparents for me.

xoxox

Jeni

We must say goodbye to a devoted wife, mother of unbound love, cherished sister and friend, an astute teacher of learning, and a beacon of beauty and faith: our dear Shirley Colsman.

 

 

Shirley was born on February 2, 1932 in Grand Rapids, Michigan.  This was the time between the wars, when the world seemed unsettled, and life could be hard.  Shirley transcended the turmoil, like she did every hardship in life.  She married Marv Colsman in 1952 while he was still serving in the Air Force.  Marv set about building his career.  But Shirley did not sit still: for over thirty years she taught the meaning of a Christian Life to young, aspiring minds.  Marv and Shirley traveled widely, unveiling evidence for heaven, in the majesty of earth; the language of seas, the clarity of streams, the intelligence of owls; and the flare of winter’s sun setting in the amber sky.  Their marriage reflected the divinity, Marv framed through the lens of a camera, endowed by God. Their bond was like a diamond; brilliant and strong. And just as gentle and long.   Shirley imbued their family with heart; a devoted son, two attentive and loving daughters, five grandchildren, and the euphoria of a great grandchild times four; and touched them with her laugh, with her love, and with her unshakable belief in the healing power of Christian faith.  When Shirley first became ill, not that long ago, Marv attended to her every need.  Shirley once said: “Marv never quits!  He is so positive about everything: his good nature keeps me going.” Marv would have said had he heard it: “It is Shirley, wholly and only Shirley, that keeps us going and young!”  So certain were they in their faith, and in each other, that just two weeks before Shirley passed, she announced she did not need help of the nursing sort; she would be getting up and around! She turned her adoring smile on Marv, adding: ‘besides our children will help, they are a ten!” Marv leaned back in his chair, stretched his long legs, his handsome face softening as though in a reverie, the glow in his voice, audible to anyone who could hear, “Yes, our children are a ten!” Then affirming a vision, he nodded his head, and passed on Shirley’s smile. One could not fail to feel the bloom of the blessing sent in their smiles.

Hard Things

 "We can do hard things"

But darn it all, does it have to be so many of them? And for so long?

I did a hard thing this past weekend, but it was so good. I took my mom to see her sister in Florida. My aunt isn't doing all that well after a stroke about a year ago. Brain trauma is a funky thing. There are so many things we don't know about the brain - how it works so well, telling our heart to increase a beat here, telling our lungs to expand just a little more to let that swell of anxiety subside there. It just impresses the heck out of me.

So when your brain is injured and some things don't work right, it's like you're walking right along and your leg forgets how to move you forward. Sometimes you stop and wait for the leg to remember. Maybe it'll work, maybe it won't. Maybe it'll remember tomorrow. You just don't know. And the scary part is - is that you know one day, your leg won't remember any more.

But sometimes the brain heals - or mends - in ways you don't expect.

When my aunt first had her stroke, the immediate signs were not good. 

Then there was some improvement - and I spoke to her via FaceTime over the summer. She can't send me a birthday card any more (which she has done RELIGIOUSLY for 46 years) - so she wanted to call for #47. Frankly, that was even better. Her speech was stilted, her face a little droopy, but she knew me and my voice - and I sang "You Are My Sunshine" to her and we laughed.

And then it was time to be discharged from rehab - and go to a care facility - and it was about then that we all knew her brain had mended as much as it could and now we wait and see.

My mom wanted to go see her - for the difficult phrase of "for perhaps the last time." And she needed help to get there. She asked if I'd take her and I agreed. In the middle of a pandemic omicron surge, in the dead of winter....to Florida. To see my aunt. It wasn't a tough sell.

Upon arrival at the airport, I'm a bull in a china shop and I didn't bother to wait for the line at Delta to get the wheelchair, I snagged one myself (had they been there all along?!? I never knew!) - and we went up to security at oh-dark-thirty in the morning. We flew right through, got some water and sat to wait. Before I even could tell if we had a gate agent, a man named Jon came to visit. Funny, my aunt's husband is Jon. Cool.

Jon asked if we were in the system and I admitted sheepishly that we were not. I was impatient when we arrived. Not only did he "get us registered" for future wheelchair needs - basically he told the system we were here and needed our wheelchair reservation - he then found the guy in 14A and had him board with us so mom wouldn't have to get up from 14C once he came on board. He was just a gem. 

The connection in Atlanta was seamless. Though we were next to the gate going to Aruba and we often thought of just stowing away.

Arrival in Sarasota was easy - and the Budget rental car line wasn't too long.

Until you realized it was 10 minutes per person to get the keys. Over an hour later, with now 45 people behind us - we were on our way to see my aunt.

The nursing home is on the back side of a progressive living environment. It's not in the greatest area, but the foliage around blocked most of the chaff and the staff smiles made up for it. 

Mom steeled herself, we walked in not entirely knowing what to expect - and there was my beloved Aunt all aglow to see her sister. She knew us immediately. 

Phew. Step one.

And we chatted and talked.

We laughed...she repeated a few things...thought she saw someone when she didn't...spoke of distant memories that felt like yesterday and strange happenings that we don't know if they occurred or not.

At one point, I pulled my mask down for just a second and stuck my tongue out at her....

"you better watch it girl, I know things about you," she said. 

Oh goodness, yes ma'am, you certainly do. I'll hush now. 

I'll be grateful for that moment.

Dinner with some family that evening - my cousin, her new husband who I hadn't met yet, her son who I hadn't seen in 20 years, and my uncle. 

Another visit in the morning, this time up and in the activities room - more cousins, more laughs, more memories, more stories of how my aunt would claim the good piece of fried chicken by licking it. And her threat to do the same to the strawberry cake donut that sat a few inches away.

Yes, she got that donut for dessert. 

I don't mess with my aunt, even if she's in a wheelchair. She'd whack me senseless. God love her.

A short break to  nap and a quick run to the beach, melancholy following us everywhere we turned. Too many elephants in the room to even turn around. I saw the ocean and it was angry. Crashing waves, misty skies - 57 degrees with a low of 37. Not the Florida I hoped for. This was about doing hard things. Really hard things. 

But the peace of the waves, no matter how hard they tossed, gave us a little room to breathe and pray. 

We returned for another short visit - yet another cousin stopping in for a chat - and time to sing. Sunshine was missing for the day, but You Are My Sunshine is appropriate for any time. Including a little Jesus Loves Me and Amazing Grace. My beloved aunt sang right along. My left eye might have leaked a little. 

Dinner with family, an exhausted trip to the hotel and a solid sleep for one last go.

Sunday was met with a familiar anxiety - how would this play out now that this was the last visit before we had to fly home.

Sadness crept in - my aunt was up, but she wasn't alert. The shadows lurked, her eyes were not clear, the stories were disjointed...she napped often. Mom would breathe deeply, rub her sister's neck or hands, we would sit in moments of silence. 

My aunt's lunchtime approached - and it afforded us the opportunity to have one last hug, one last squeeze, one last deep breath.

Mom seemed to manage the process with so much grace and compassion - and yet a full understanding of the gravity of it all. I was immensely proud of her.

SRQ to MSP is a long one when you board the plane first. Longer when you get to the airport early. Longer still when you have a layover and interminable when you board first for GRR, have a 45 minute delay for missing bags and another delay for de-icing. Arrival at 11:05pm was barely on this side of what we could handle and it was as fast as we could scurry to get to the car...to home...to bed.

 I'll muse on this trip long after I've done the laundry and caught up on chores. I'll permanently mark a place on my heart for our time together - my time with my mom - and doing the hard things. Because the generation that came before makes it all worth it.

First World Supply Chain Woes

 NYE is a big deal in this house -

We've been hanging with our friends for 15 years - with each year devising new, inventive ways to celebrate cuisine and friendship.

This year- our theme is Bar Food. Essentially, if you were going to go hang out at a bar with your friends, what would you eat?

Our menu ideas start all over the board. On my end, I start to scour cookbooks from the library and graphics on Pinterest. I come up with 1/3 of the menu and several options to whittle through.

This year, I'm on tap (hehehe) for:

* Whipped Cranberry Feta

* Cranberry Brie Bites in Puff Pastry

* Wasabi Macarons with Smoked Salmon

* Chicken Pot Pie with Puff Pastry

* White Chocolate Cheesecake with a Peppermint/Vodka-Infused Cream

Sounds amazing, yes? Just 1/3 of the dishes.

I'm prepping, planning and purchasing ingredients as we go.

Until I get to Puff Pastry.

HOLY MACARONI, there has been a run on Puff Pastry. A trip to five separate grocery stores and calls to four other friends. 

None. Zip. Zilch. Nada. 

NUNCA!!

Oh for the love.

Fine, supply chain management woes, fine. I see you. And I'll beat you at your own game. I'll make it myself!! I don't need you, overpriced Athena's Puff Pastry. I've got my (other)bestie, Ina Garten, and a food processor.

I'll show you!!

Pictures to follow!