Fall is for Homecoming, wherever that is...

Fall has always been my favorite time of year.  Even as a kid, I knew that it forebode the long school year ahead and the distance from that point to the lazy days of summer.  Jennifer  cooked chili yesterday, and Aubrey made cornbread which has become a sort of ritual for us in the fall. We will eat chili at least once a week this time of year.  Starting today football is on every weekend until next year which for a Blue Devil/Panther’s fan can both make or break your weekend.  Last fall was a major life event for me.  I spent most of my weekends, and some days of the week traveling with my sister back and forth to Roanoke to visit my mother in the hospital.  I have every right to hate fall as it brings up some feelings that are better left in the past.  Somehow, I believe that it happened this way for a reason. Maybe that’s how mom wanted it? Fall is supposed to be about homecoming.  Maybe she wanted me to remember this time of year is about family, and being together.  Not just for the good times.  We need to be there for each other through both good and bad.  It’s easy to attribute everyday things like life and death with the song on the radio or the rain— because we all want to find some type of cosmic significance to our lives.

When I was just a child, I remember the little white row house that my sister, my mom, and me lived in on Raleigh Street in Martinsburg, West Virginia.  I was a young no-nothing that had a middling sense of self, zero fear of mortality, and there was nothing to me as cool as my dad.  I had this vivid imagination of what he was doing at any given time.  I told people that he flew planes, and helicopters—everything… I watched movies, movies that I probably shouldn’t have watched as an eight year-old but I did.  Movies like Top Gun and Iron Eagle, and I lived vicariously through these characters and thought my dad was probably 

doing something as cool as Chappie or Maverick.  I remember I had wanted to live with my father at one point.  I remember telling my mother that I wanted to move in with him one day.  She was heartbroken, and I remember feeling terrible asking but didn’t quite understand the significance  at the time.  This plain and commonplace word “home” had no bearing on me at the time.  Home for us was an old house, that needed a lot of work and even more after we moved out. My mother didn’t have much money.  She worked for the school system there, and had a passionate ambition for further education.  Thinking back, we never really had a sense of want in our lives. My sister and I were given every opportunity to participate in sports and scouts, and all other youth activities.  I can remember going to these games and mom sitting there on the side lines.  She was a quiet fan, but she clapped and showered us with compliments when the game was over with the loving bias of a mother. 

In our days of innocence we were entrusted with our own safety at times.  At least that is how I remember it.  I can remember 
autumn days sitting on the porch, playing in the back yard with my sister and the neighbor kids while we all waited for mom to come home from her graduate school classes. Here she was, raising two kids and going to school in the evening after working all day.  Even though,  I can’t imagine allowing my daughter to watch her siblings for a few hours.  As a kid, it was pretty neat.  I remember we would be home alone for a couple of hours while mom was at class, I think one of the neighbors would look in on us to make sure we were still alive.   We had to stay in the house or the back yard.  When it was dark or raining, we had to entertain ourselves.  We would watch movies we had recorded on VHS tapes from HBO.   We would watch a rotation of all the 80’s classics which provided my sister and I a rich education in 80’s culture and cool.  We loved those movies, and even today can share a random quote from one of them and smile knowingly.  Our little house was small, and had many problems.  I remember we used to crack the window to get the fall air to circulate through the house.  I always loved the cool air of fall, and the change of colors on the trees. I used to roam the block when mom was home. We would walk everywhere. To the grocery store. To the arcade. I used to blow my whole thirty-dollar paycheck, from delivering a local buyers-guide  door to door, at the arcade and local deli.  It’s long gone now, and replaced by some other business.  If my mom knew of some of the crazy things I used to do as a kid, she wouldn’t have been happy about it.  I was insulated by the ignorance of youth and the always safe place to land at home.  I remember mom would put so much effort into trying to cook these great meals for my sister and me.  Like most kids, we had our favorites but she insisted that we have a more advanced palette. Some meals were notably not for me then and maybe even now, but most were good.  Now that I am older, and feeling much older lately, I can’t help but try to define home.  I want a place where my kids can come back to, and show their kids, and share the fond memories of childhood.  I don’t have that really.  I don’t have a place to call home.  There’s so many great quotes filled with beautiful words to describe home not being a physical place but an emotional one.  I find some solace in that because it’s familiar.  My mom was always home to me.  Even though I had this picture of what life should be like as a kid, and how much I wanted to be my father or even someone else on any given day.  I remember being jealous of some kids that had more, and got to do more as a child and not knowing the great fortune that I had at the time in having the love of my mother.

So it’s not quite fall but it’s starting to feel like it.  The air is cooler.  The sounds of football can be heard over the tree line from the high school.  I’ve got a jacket on today even though I probably don’t need it.  I love the colors of fall, the brown and orange.  The flannel shirts, and denim jackets. Not so much the pumpkin spice…  Yet, I sit here and I can’t help but feel different.  Fall is a time for homecoming.  I yearn for home now more than ever.  Even to this day as I start to think about the home that I am creating for my children, and the vibrant memories I hope they have of Fall Saturdays with each other, and their parents I yearn for home.  It’s now been 11 months since I lost mine.  So as the leaves start to change, and start their graceful journey through the air to the ground, I will think about you.  I would give everything to be able to go home again.  

A letter about Aubrey for her Teacher

Hello Teacher,

Sorry this is late, I’ve had a busy few days.  I wanted to take a proper minute to write about Aubrey versus a rushed one.  So let me tell you about this daughter of mine. Aubrey is my first child. She has three younger siblings: Liam, Dylan, and JoElle.  She’s a great big sister.  Aubrey loves to help with the “parenting” part of maturity, but not the chores part.  She is quick to help a crying child or share words of encouragement when one of them is in need of a subtle push.  When it comes to routines and responsibilities she needs the same encouragement.  She aims to please, and hates to let other’s down.  This can bring her to tears at times.  So be aware, that Aubrey will get quiet and then shy away when she is ashamed or disappointed in herself or if she feels that from you. 

Aubrey loves to read.  She will read at the dinner table. She will read all night if we let her.  She will even read upside down, hanging from the couch.  Her favorite books have been the Babysitters Club series which her Aunt Mary gave her like one-hundred copies or so, in a big ole box. I believe she’s read over half, and she’s only had it since Christmas . Aubrey is a lot like me in the way she enjoys people but finds her energy through quiet times like reading or some other form of entertainment.  One of my dreams for her is that she will never lose the love of reading—so far so good!  Second to reading, maybe a close tie, would be her passion for nature.  Aubrey will spend an entire day watching nature shows.  She will sit back and digest it all.  She loves to learn about different animals and how they live, and what they eat.  This has evolved into a specific interest in aquatic animals.  Two summers ago I took her, and the rest of the family to see the Clear Water Aquatic Center in Florida.  This is the home of Winter the Dolphin in which the movie Dolphin Tale was based off of. Aubrey has watched that movie, and its sequel probably twenty or so times.  She has shown interest in marine biology and will tell you that’s what she would like to study and maybe have a career in one day. There are many years, and many hills to climb if she will ever get to that point but I hope that she continues to dream big about what and who she wants to be when she grows up.  So many forget that and just go where life takes them. 

Aubrey and her best friend Mia created a neighborhood organization called “The Animal club”, which is now called the Science Club or Nature Club—they’ve been going through a bit of a rebranding-.  Either way, it’s a club about animals and nature.  It’s actually something I’m pretty proud of her about.  She works with her friends to plan out each meeting, and set up a schedule. They plan snacks, activities, and a specific animal or experiment that they will be focusing on each meeting. This is all designed by them so it’s pure kids stuff.  But pretty neat nevertheless.


Some other passions are cooking and baking.  She loves to help with breakfast, or baked goods.  Aubrey is very caring and takes care of others out of a tender spot in her heart.  When her mom was sick she would make breakfast and take it to her in bed.  She will also cook and prepare food for her younger brothers, and one day her baby sister.  Aubrey has strange eating habits.  She will eat steak, and hamburgers (usually half of one).  But she doesn’t like much else in the meat category.  Maybe some chicken from time to time.  But she loves fruit. She will two to three normal servings and not look back.  I’m also pretty sure she likes junk food and candy because it doesn’t last long in the cupboard.  Her mom is a bit of a health nut, so we rarely have it.  So  in the event we do, it won’t be long for this world.


Something else to know about her is that she is a borderline hypochondriac (nothing serious) but she will tend to dramatize  bumps and bruises as a shift in fate. I don’t know why and it’s not that she is starving for attention or anything.  It is common that this type of cataclysmic event occurs right before she has some type of responsibility. So be aware of any hazards or pitfall that she might encounter when an undesirable task is at hand.  Then behold the magic of when that task has been completed or the moment has passed—she will be miraculously healed.  She does tend to be clumsy at times, and likes to play by flailing her body in different directions as if she is being propelled by some unseen force.  Other unpredictable behavior to be aware of, is the need to climb things that shouldn’t be climbed. You will at one moment be talking with her and then your attention is drawn in another direction, but when you turn back she’s gone.  Not gone, but up—somewhere.  Maybe that’s how Batman does it? The girl is a little goofy is all I’m saying.  And also precious and funny. Just beware..


She’s a night owl.  Aubrey doesn’t sleep sometimes. We have to check on her before we go to bed. She is good at acting asleep.  She might have a future one day as a sleep model.  She makes sleep look realistic and doesn’t move a hair.  I’ve been convinced many times only to find her sprawled out on the floor with a book on her face or sleeping on the couch downstairs after she binge watched some show on Netflix (not Breaking Bad or anything— just like Barbie Super friends or something).   So if she seems sleepy in class (more than other kids) let us know.  We have tried to get her on a better sleeping routine.  We have even spoken to her pediatrician about this on occasion.  

As a student you will find that her flame burns quietly.  When she’s engaged in the lesson or topic, she will be focused and driven to learn all she can.  In other areas she will become distracted.  Last year math gave her a lot of trouble.  She tends to get down on herself, or loses interest in what she is doing.  This will progress into “I can’t” and “I’ll never” be able to do this right.  She tends to wait until I get home late after a long day at work to say “hey, I need help with some math homework”.  You can imagine  my excitement relearning how to do compound fractions at 9:30 pm on a Wednesday via Youtube… So this is an area where we could use some help.  Let us know, let me know if she isn’t focusing here in class. Let us know how we can reinforce or reward improved behavior or focus here.  She won’t necessarily ask for help, so you might need to ask her and then clarify with her for understanding.  Additionally, if you have some extra-credit type work where she could do some extra math problems over the weekend send those to us and I will work with her over the weekend.  This would be a great help.  Her mom and I have spoken and even considered a math tutor for her.  So we will continue to stay close to this.  

Thanks for reading and allowing me to share some thoughts about a truly special girl.  My hope for this year is that Aubrey continues to grow confident and strong.  She’s a bright, creative, and a


thoughtful kid. She lacks confidence and needs reassurance quite often.  I want nothing more then for her to be a strong successful woman one day.  No one has let her in on the secret that she’s beautiful , even though we tell her all the time.   I can tell you this, if we had stopped with her I would have believed we achieved perfection on the first try.  I’m sure all parents feel this way but from my perspective we have achieved it.  


Thanks Again,

Ryan (Aubrey’s  Dad)

Dear Mom, We're doing alright

Dear Mom,

It’s been almost a year.  The sky’s still blue, and what goes up still goes down.  Pretty much everything else has changed.  Donald Trump is president, and you probably know how I feel about that so let’s pretend that didn’t happen…  Bill Cosby was charged and eventually acquitted of some pretty heinous stuff.  I’ve been reading a lot.  I recently picked up Pat Conroy’s posthumous book A Low Country Heart.  It’s all excerpts from letters and blogs that he wrote in his late years.  I’ve been wanting to talk to you about it.  In my simple life, my family is good and happy.  Everyones growing on schedule, and healthy which is what matters.  Aubrey is a rising fifth grader, yeah I know… She loves to read, like you.  She’s been named “Busy Bee” reader two years straight! She’s also really coming out of her shell.  Remember how she would be too shy to order her food in a restaurant?  Now she walks right up and asks.  She loves spending time with friends, and playing outside.  Her neighbor friend and her created an “Animal Club” where they organized an agenda, lessons, and snacks for a few months.  This is all borne out of her creativity and love for nature, and science.  She’s traveling to spend a week in North Carolina with her cousins and Jenn’s family.   Liam has gone through quite the transformation.  He is a better listener, and has learned to handle frustration in a more respectful way.  His lack of focus is still there but just maybe he might be good-to-go without the help of medication.  This will be a big step forward for him, and we are proud of his maturation.  I still don’t know where he inherited his lack of focus… What’s really cool is his teacher this past year, Mrs. Shelton, really connected with him.  She was in her last year of teaching and my initial thoughts were that her patience had probably worn out years ago.  She proved me wrong, and turned out to be one of those teachers that Liam will remember for a lifetime.  There’s a great video we have of him hugging her during her presentation for the end of the year, and her tearing up.  I can guarantee you would have as well.  Dylan is a remarkable little kid. He’s still small in stature but makes up for it in personality and courage.  He’s also passionate about animals and asks anyone that is in earshot “what’s your favorite animal you like?” He stays in the hip-pocket of Liam and Aubrey and wants all the same privileges bestowed upon them and their advanced age.  And of all of them, and it’s been competitive, he’s the most daddy-crazy.  He wakes up with me, collects all of his toys and joins me in the shower, and asks questions that I’m not ready to answer first thing in the morning.  Then he joins me downstairs for breakfast, or whatever I have time for before I leave for the day.  It’s both an obstacle to getting up and moving, and a blessing in that I will remember those moments for the rest of my time.  Then there's JoElle.  Well, she’s perfect.  I can’t really say much more than that.  You know me, I’m not the most infant-friendly of adults.  I’m always too worried about each cough or how warm she feels.  She just looks at me and stares.  I can’t figure out if she’s looking at me or in my direction… She’s quiet for the most part and just likes to take in the moment and hear the voices around her—usually the kids arguing about whose turn it is or giggling as they play some type of game that borders on the edge of torture and hilarity.  We are quite the family.  I never saw myself with four kids but now it just feels like this was the plan all along.  

Even after fifteen years of marriage, Jenn and I are happy.  It’s pretty amazing given the naysayers and differences in backgrounds.  I’ve found the key ingredient is respect and care for each other’s passions, concerns, and lastly an enduring love.  What’s funny about love is that you don’t even know the depth or complexity of your feelings when you’re in the fray, only when you have had time to live it and feel it.  For the ups and downs, and those moments of truth that all relationships cross at some fateful point —it’s there to catch you.  I know I didn’t know that fifteen years ago, and I’m still in awe of the connection that we have formed through experiences, four children, multiple moves, and like I said before—the vicissitudes of this life.  She’s a wonderful mother.   She adored you—as a mother, and as a grandmother to our children. One of my regrets is that she did’t get a chance to tell you one more time.  Just know that she loves you, and misses you everyday.

So here I am, thirty-nine years young and starting to feel more and more like an adult.  It takes some years to pass by to know that this life is not a guarantee, and we need to take each moment in—and try our damnedest  to live it fully.  I’ve lost thirty-five pounds since March through a more disciplined diet and moderate exercise.  I know you know that dieting isn’t fun so you can be empathetic of my journey.  What I can tell you is that it hasn’t been that hard given the alternative.  It starts with awareness.  Then I’ve used that motivate my actions every morning of everyday.  Seeing you go through what you went through, and knowing that life can be cruel and swift in its decisiveness, has been an impetus for both Mary and me to take a more healthy approach.  I don’t want to give into any sense of helplessness and take the reigns of what I can influence in my life.  This is just a first step, so I can’t rest on my laurels.  

I have sat down and decided to write something in earnest.  I’ve just crossed the twenty-thousand word threshold.  This is a big moment for me given that I have about twenty five beginnings of something, but that’s it.  I'm excited about where it’s going and wish you could be the first person to read it when I finish.  It’s about relationships, love, and what happens when people mess it all up due to some self fulfilling prophecy.  I’ve really enjoyed writing dialog and recreating these relationships that are both imaginary and somewhat drawn from real life.  You’ve provide me a rich life. One that has challenge me to put myself out there, to be confident, and to be loyal and committed in everything I’ve done. I appreciate that.  I’m so mad that you won’t be able to read it.  I know that you would be honest and supportive.  I harbor no ambitions of becoming famous, or even having it published.  Even though self-publishing is a very real thing these days.  It's for me.  I set a goal to write a novel before I turned thirty.  So here I am almost a decade late.  

I miss you.  I know that no matter what happened to you after you left this life, wherever you are, I know that you are making the best of it.  You always have, through thick and thin.  I always admired your simplicity of needs, yet passion for experiences.  Not in the daredevil, adrenaline type of experience but in the vast possibility of human kindness.  Whether it was traveling with the church, or helping a neighbor who needed help. I know that wherever the good people go, you are there telling them about the potential of others to do good.  You loved to travel and see the world. You enjoyed visiting locations that were both awe inspiring in beauty and adorned in cultural relevance which is something that you have inspired in both Mary and me.  We’ve grown significantly closer since you left.  You used to always say that you wished we would treat each other more nicely and enjoy each other’s company.  You succeeded in that vision even if it took years for us to appreciate each other’s company like we do today.  

We have the Ryan family reunion here in about two weeks. This time last year none of us truly knew what the future would look like for you.  I know that I tried to deny that it was something serious and you allowed me to do this.  Just like always, you were looking out for everyone else.  Not a selfish bone in your body.  If I could go back in time, I would have spent more time with you.  I would have visited you more often, and I would’ve called you at least once a day.  The Ryan’s will be back together in a couple of weeks.  I know that we will have fun, and laugh, drink, and get sunburnt (well at least the northerners).  I also know that every day I will take at least one moment and think about you.  You will be with us.  

Thirty-nine years… It took the death of my mom for me to grow up. I always was a momma’s boy, even though I wouldn’t admit it.  

Eternal Love and Gratitude,

Ryan

The never-ending Healthcare debate (my perspective)

The American Healthcare Act is a trojan horse.  It’s snake oil sold by the one of the greatest salesman of the last century.  Just being straight forward here, I am not in support of much of anything that the Trump administration has put forward in the last 100 days.  Especially this concept of freedom from government oppression—otherwise known as the Affordable Care Act.  Aka Obamacare.  This bill is nothing more than a tax cut for the wealthy under the guise of giving voters what they want— “Repeal and Replace”. I know that some of you reading this are getting ready to minimize this window, or close out the app.  Proceed if you will.  In the event you are still reading, I’d appreciate your patience in waiting until the end of this exercise in courage and free thought.  

For the last decade or so, we’ve been divided in many ways.  So at odds, that to even concede any agreement with the other side is seen as treasonous.  We all have had these moments when a loved, or respected one says something so damn wrong or misinformed, and we just sit their silently and take it.  There’s the problem right?  We are all misinformed by our own bias and alliances and refuse to listen to the other perspective. Fake news and such… So I’m going to not speak in quotes or “facts” because that is useless in the modern debate.  I will just think out loud and see where that takes us.

We are all good, to some extent.  There are signs of this everyday.  Good samaritans helping the stranded.  Go Fund Me campaigns to support the sick and needy.  The problem with the Great American Healthcare debate is that it has been coopted as an argument of individual liberties.  We’ve shed our humanity, and quite frankly our American way.  What I hear so often are two arguments from the anti-healthcare lot.  I am going to break these down quickly.

One is that Healthcare has always been there for the sick and poor in the form of the Emergency Room.  It has all been said before by the left, so I will not bore you with the reasons that this is backwards.  I will share why this isn’t practical in terms of how it impacts day to day life.  First of all, the middle class doesn’t want to dodge their bills.  Any hard working person doesn’t want to be a liability or a freeloader.  Often a parent will bypass their checkup, or fight through pain and suffering due to the fact that they know that the bill will be large, and that every cent of their paycheck is allocated to their power bill, or car payment.  I’ve personally been there where I will not go to the doctor to get a sore spot on my foot looked at because I can just manage the pain.  Now we are all weak when it comes to our loved ones.  We opt not to buy the inhaler in hopes that the cough deep in our lungs will work itself out.  Or we wait to the next paycheck to buy it.  When your child has a deep cough, or your spouse has a high fever— in these moments we are willing to pay the bill.  It is often here when we can’t afford the high cost yet we pay.  Now, the impoverished and truly poor have Medicaid.  Medicaid provides them childcare for their children and will pay for that hospital stay or expensive prescription.  Even those “illegals” that have an open wound or broken bone won’t get turned away at the emergency room.  Call me what you want, I don't think in a civilized society that sick people should ever be turned away.  The more sophisticated debaters on the pro-healthcare-for-all-side will share with you that this is not cost effective. The more flu-inflicted and less “emergency” type situations that visit the Emergency Room the more cost goes up, and will likely be paid by some type of government relief or be absorbed by those that are paying the bills. This is the argument that many anti believers have subscribed to because it makes them feel  better. This is the “If they need healthcare, they can get it…” argument.  Even though this logic doesn’t hold up and is counter to what so many hardworking Americans would actually do when it comes to what ails them.  We push through, and persevere— even when our body is trying to tell us something sinister lies beneath the surface

The less humanitarian approach is to think about the dollar side of it completely.  It’s a cold approach to how a government should be run, and what a government is responsible for.  I really have trouble understanding this group.  They will throw the constitution at you and try to find the most pedantic argument at you to shut you down.  It is their belief that Government is responsible for staying out of our way, and at the most— protect us from threats foreign and domestic.  To them, any government program is a failed program.  I’m not going to go down that rabbit hole.  When I think of public health, and the potential threats that can potentially spin out of control I only have to look at history to see there were instances where we needed more funding or research that would have saved more lives.  I get it, can our universities and privately funded grants provide some of this research? Sure… I just hope that when history looks back at this time in our lives, those scholars can say we did the right thing. As one of the only civilized societies that doesn’t have government funded healthcare, our decisions (our votes) will be how we are defined.  This mentality that we are all in this on our own, and for those that can’t afford quality healthcare (or any for that matter) are unmotivated and unworthy is a moral decision.  There is so much government waste, and so much redundancy and lack of scruples in the positions of power (under both parties) that it’s sad to think that there are children that wont receive the treatment they deserve.  Their is the single mother that bypasses her annual checkup and fosters her kids before they have a chance to really get to know the sacrifices she made so they could live a normal life up to that point.  For every anecdote there is one for the other side, so I will stop. 

I’ve faced great moral conundrums in my time.  We all have.  Sometimes they aren’t so obvious, we just live through it and act accordingly.  These defining moments echo throughout our lives.  There should be a congruency between our actions and our values.  And when there is not, here comes the guilt.  This should only happen from time to time. Seldom moments that we all wish we could have back.  That fleeting sequence in time where we should’ve stood up for our friend when confronted by a blatant lie. When our pride gets in the way, and we couldn't be honest and admit our failure. In that instance when we were confronted with a wayward opinion, and we didn’t say anything in the spirit of cooperation.  We have all been there, and that is okay.  The truth that I ground myself in is that almost everyone that is making the decision has no risk of losing their great- healthcare.  I have always had healthcare insurance.  Not always the greatest, but there.  My kids, and family have always had that safety net in the event that arms were broken, or they were sick.  I will most likely always had some form of healthcare. In fact, mine will be better than a lot of people that I know and interact with everyday.  Yet, I could stand to lose it if we screw this up.  So for those of us that are able to vote, or speak up— we should.  For those that have the power to cast a vote in our government it is a  moral decision, not a financial decision.  For those of that are affected by this vote, it will be a financial decision- or already is… Do we pay for that checkup, or medicine? Or do we continue to play Russian Roulette with our lives, and our families?  I ask that you listen to your congressman, or senator and hear what he is saying. Because he’s not talking about his healthcare, or what might impact his family.  He doesn’t live your life, he has healthcare insurance.  

Like I wrote before, congruency in our words and actions matter.  It’s easy to take the principled argument of your father, or well respected role model and say that in theory we should all work for everything we get… That is well principled. In fact, I live by that code.  I don’t believe in handouts.  But life and pursuit of happiness is not a handout.  The life of your children is not a handout.  It’s a right in the greatest country in the world.  So many of us watch our 401k grow at a nominal amount each year, and we are satisfied with that.  We scratch by to find money for a birthday gift that our kid wants, but we can’t really afford.  We make choices that affect our credit rating and take risks with our money in hopes that a check will clear.  This is the life of so many of us, and yet we are not congruent.  Some of us even receive handouts from taxpayer funds, yet we don’t see the hypocrisy in it.  It’s different right…I don’t say that to be rude, I say that because it’s okay to need help.  That is normal.

So, what will it be?  Do we allow the snake oil salesman to tell us that we should abandon this idea that our children deserve healthcare?  That we don’t deserve the right to see one of America’s great doctors that may or may not have been subsidized to get their license to practice through scholarships and grants?  It’s not easy. Like the president said, he didn’t know it was this complicated.  I’m not saying that what we have is great, or even good.  Let’s put the politics aside and fix it versus blow it up and go back to the good ole days when insurance companies can take your monthly payment yet turn you away when you really need it… We are better than this.  

Mother's Day 2017- Moms can be mythic. Mine is...

It’s been almost 7 months since Jo Ellen Ryan, my wonderful mother shed her human skin and transcended life on this spec in the universe.  I, unlike many people I care about, am not certain of much.  Especially what happens after we leave earth.  I find myself constantly doubting what is and isn’t.  I do know that she has taken on a new mythic like role in my life.  All mother’s have that ability on sons and daughters.  Her imprint on me is both visible and deeply buried in my psyche. I imagine it’s that way for others, we are just unaware of this feeling for most of our lives.  Until it is often too late.  

I often think about her, and what she would be doing right this moment if it wasn’t for cancer.  I know this time last year she was just starting to enjoy her new life with her husband Don. They lived the best kind of life— an uncomplicated one.  One that was full of quiet moments together, talking and getting to know each other.  Sharing stories of their lives and how it formed the world weary adults they grew to become. They shared politics, and views on how people should both take responsibility for themselves as well as how we should all take care of each other. I doubt they talked much of religion but they had a deep abiding respect for each others views.  I imagine today they would have went to get breakfast together or lunch, at one of their favorite restaurants.  Mom was adventurous about trying new things, and seeing unique places.  I know they would be out enjoying this weather, and taking in the day savoring each moment like a sip of a fine red wine.  Don has become a part of our family, and us his.  That is one of the good things to come out of all of this.  My children have really grown close to him, and interact with him as if they’ve always known him.  My heart is imbued with sadness for him.  I can’t imagine losing a person that was so instrumental in my day-to-day life as he has.  We are all sad, and affected by this year and what she had to go through in her last breathing moments.  I imagine his pain is much different.  I hope he knows that he doesn’t have to be lonely, and that just like his blood family we think about him everyday and look forward to our next day together.  

The way my life has changed is hard to say.  In some ways, life just goes on.  We are all here for a ride, sometimes it’s bumpy.  On many days it’s slow and routine. I have wondered what my loved ones would do when I died.  I’m sure they would be sad.  There’s no doubt.  I wouldn’t surround myself with people that didn’t feel that way about me.  However, after a few days or weeks, life would go on.  I guess that is what we would want for them right.  We want to have a legacy, and enrich the lives of all that we have come in contact with in some form or fashion.  I know that is what she wanted.  I would never have characterized my mother as brave for most of her life.  My opinion was forever changed after this year.  Those final days were full of hope, and then stark realizations that we have very little influence on what happens and what doesn’t.  It was truly a trying moment for the soul.  My sister and I grew closer in those days.  I know that made mom happy.  Even when she wasn’t coherent in her thoughts, and words, I know that she was thankful for the life she had lived, and the grace that she had been given.  If she was angry, I didn’t know.  She was always happy to see us, and deeply resolute in where she was headed.  Even when no one was sure what the next day looked like, she was okay with that.  

Aubrey, Liam, and Dylan lost their “Nana”.  I know that is a tragedy.  Mom was a great, Grandmother.  She spoiled them with her time, and treats.  She was so connected to whatever was going on in their lives whether it be their school, or friends.  She showed genuine interest in what I admittedly sometimes don’t. They ask about her often.  We have added photographs of mom all over the house, and tried to ensure they won’t forget her.  I know we make pacts with our future selves all the time to not forget.  I also know that we often let ourselves down. I know that Aubrey is truly hurting throughout all of this.  She was the closest to her Nana.  She doesn’t say much.  She is  very sullen at times, and I often discount her feelings when it comes to how tragic the loss was to her.  She spent the first five years with her Nana often spending weekends with her, and numerous special moments talking together.  One of the most special things mom did her final months was to go and take that big “Nana and Aubrey” trip.  I know that mom wanted to plan many more of those combining two of her favorite things adventure and grandchildren.  I don’t know if anyone knew how sick she was when she left for that trip last June.  I know I didn’t.  I was oblivious. I found out later that she knew that might be her last opportunity, and there was no way Cancer (or at that time whatever it was) was going to stop her.  You read of those magical moments where a grandfather comes home from the hospital to spend one last Christmas with his family and dies the next day. Or those stories of couples dying within a day of each other because their heart has been broken, and they can’t continue this life without that other person.  It’s one of the rare symmetries in this remarkable life.  Love truly is what makes us different than the animals.  Our capacity to connect with others and build relationships, not out of our appearances, but something much more profound then that is truly the human experience.  My mother believed that love was the most powerful emotion, and could truly alter the course of someone’s life.  She never gave up on that.  I don’t think she ever felt hate towards another person.  Some call that naive.  I call it aspirational.  

2016 was a wrecking ball in my life.  My children and wife look to me for strength and hope.  I look to others like Don, and my sister for the same.  Those relationships have enriched my soul more in the past few months than I could’ve imagined.  This year has been slow to take on a theme.  I search for themes in life, like art. My mother loved stories and books, and passionately craved a great story.  And I am her son in so many ways, but none more than that.  My hope is that this is a year of new beginnings.  Mother’s days is coming up.  I know that last year mom and I were making plans to meet for lunch.  We met in Lexington, Virginia and had lunch that day (See picture to the Left). We brought gifts from the kids, and were entranced by illusions of normalcy given we didn’t know how special that meal would be. That was our last meal together blind to the growing intruder deep inside mom’s body.  My kids ask me all the time about good and evil.  Cancer is evil I now say.  It’s evil in its unbiased malice, and relentless thirst to take life and kill what is loved.  We enjoyed that beautiful spring day.  Mom wasn’t feeling great, and couldn’t walk with us after we ate.  I had no idea why. I think she did, and enjoyed that day in spite of it. We parted ways with hugs.  Then my family went walking the historic downtown area. I would like to go back there this Mother’s day to remember, and reflect.  Even though I am a shameless sentimental, I am also aware that her life is more than a few moments.  Her imprint, and impression is all over the place. In my sisters smile and voice.  In my my truly, and often hopelessly romantic view of the world.  In her sister Pat’s quirky sense of humor.  In Don’s personality, knowing that she had found love again in her life, and that she loved him.  In my daughter Aubrey’s kind and fragile heart.  In my love for good music and great song writing, both the grandiose and stripped down forms, that we both share an affinity for.  In both her children’s love for travel, and seeing and experiencing different cultures and places. My mom is everywhere around me.  This June, or even late May we will welcome her namesake into this world—JoElle McDaniel.  We are still trying to come up with a middle name.  Mom didn’t have one.  So maybe, in a way, we will honor her by doing the same.  

This year has got to be better than last.  I know my mom, would believe that.  I hope that she is happy and feels the love of the many that have shared with me and my sister the influence that she had on them.  It’s funny, to me she is just mom.  But there is nothing more gratifying than hearing stories of the people that she knew outside of my purview.  Like I said, she is mythic to me now.  I wish all the mother’s out there a happy mother’s day.  To everyone else, take the moment in and savor it because you will want to remember these moments when they are gone.  I miss you mom…    

The Last Road Trip

Mom

I lost my mother yesterday.  Cliches and platitudes comfort me no matter what anyone says.  I just don't want to really talk about it.  The redness that stems from my eyes is the only remnant of any effect from the events of yesterday.  I slept for hours yet I'm exhausted.  The noises of the house, and playful giggles in the adjacent rooms pulls me closer to consciousness.  My sister and niece have come here to grieve with my family.  Our kids call her "nana".   My sister and I both have had very different experiences with our mom.   Mom was alway the steady for me.  She was the person I could talk to when life was truly beyond my comprehension.  Even though I seldom did, and regretfully didn't.  She was validation when I was overcome with self doubt.  For my sister she was a best friend.  Someone that connected Mary to what a real mother, woman, and professional was supposed to look like.  Our mom will forever be a part of our lives in spirit, in inspiration, in aspiration, and in what kindness is supposed to look like.  Mind racing, and body exhausted--I finally rolled out of bed.  Sore from the long car rides back and forth to the hospital. 

Warm shower. Freshly brushed teeth. Nothing really makes me feel renewed.  Routine and habit not broken, but life forever different.  I got dressed for the day.  It may not feel cool outside, but I dress for Fall.  

The hall looks like a battlefield from the children playing.  Usually I would be frustrated by this.  Coffee on the pot, and my sister playing quietly with her daughter on the couch.  She is adept in scrolling through the hundreds of kind regards from friends, and family on Facebook.  "Good morning," she said.  I respond likewise.  "Where's Liam and Aubrey," I asked forgetting that this was Tuesday.  My wife hasn't returned from dropping them off.  My wife--- she's amazing.  I may not be the best husband.  In fact, I know that I'm not. So having almost fifteen years with her, and three beautiful children is truly my greatest accomplishment. She deserves some time alone.  The other children in the house are my niece and nephew from her side of the family.  So in whole, we have six children in the house which would be overwhelming if I wasn't already overwhelmed.  My mind doesn't recognize this because my wife has taken on the full brunt of any agitation that I may feel.  She knows that I need time to sort this all out.  I definitely grieve, but have a process.  It is not in my nature to grieve with others, at least initially. These traits come from some aspects of my mother.  Not physically strong, but emotionally disciplined.  I have her to thank for that.

With the house calm, I ask my sister for some personal time to go for a drive.  She understands.  I grab the keys, my wallet, and all other necessities.  I head down to Starbucks to get another coffee.  The weather is truly beautiful.  I know that all people attempt to associate external variables to supernatural variables when moments such as these transpire.  I wont do that here intentionally... (I apologize for the unintentional).  

The drive is nice. The windows down.  The music is appropriate--James Taylor- Greatest Hits.  The restlessness from last night has caught up with me.  I drove to the park and pursued a quiet place.  The shady spot down by the lake will do. I turned my music off and cut the ignition.  Silence.  Then I heard the rhythm of cars going by, slow but consistent.  The birds offered the light sounds of the wood winds.  A symphony of nature put me to sleep.

----

When I woke up I felt excited about the trip that was in front of me.  My car was packed.  I had spent time with my kids and wife eating our favorite lunch at the local pizza joint . Work was behind me for the week.  I drove an hour down I-81 and felt alive.  The music was nostalgic.  Nostalgic for me might not be the classics of the local oldie station.  Classics for me are Pearl Jam, Hootie and Blowfish, and Dave Matthews Band.  Roanoke was getting closer and the trip felt short, almost too short.  When I arrived at my mom's new house, new to her, she was sitting on the porch.  She was ready to go, but busy working through the cross word puzzle that she was making short-work of confidently using a pen where I wouldn't dare stray from a pencil.  She was on her third cup of coffee.  I walked up the path and gave her a kiss on the her thin brown hair.  So smooth and silk like.  "I'm really excited about our trip. I've been waiting for you to take me," she said.  After we both used the bathroom, and put her bag in the car we took off.  

I let her choose the music despite my previous dominion of ambience and entertainment.  She chose the Beatles Greatest Hits.  I was good with that.  First we drove South.  We drove the back roads of South Carolina, and Georgia.  We made few stops along the way.  Mom really wanted to stop at local places. She loved the open air markets where farmers sold fresh produce and vegetables.  We stopped at hole in the wall restaurants that had solid reviews on Yelp.  We made many stops where the view was the only reason. Mom liked the long way.  The path less traveled in the busy and bustling lives of so many people.  

The trip was fast.  We were so excited to be at the beach. Daytona was special to us.  It felt like our family's beach.  The family reunion took place here almost every year despite the long list of other wonderful vacation spots.  The beach had it's quiet moments despite being one of the most famous beaches in the world.  We didn't go this year, and she felt like this was important for us to make this stop on our trip.  Who was I to disagree.

When we arrived her brothers and sister were there to meet us. They carried her bag up the stairs and I carried mine.  We sat down and returned to conversations that were from a year ago but felt like they weren't over.  Grandmother came to the door.  When she joined the party I felt like I wanted to leave her with her siblings for some time alone, although no one said I should.  I imagined they talked about memories of Grandad. All of the great cross country trips. There would probably be some embarrassing stories that come up every year but never get old.  Wine would be passed, and beer for her brothers.  

I returned to laughter.  My sister Mary showed up to surprise mom for the next leg of our trip.  We hugged the rest of the family.  Everyone was there now. Our cousins, and inlaws. All the people that brought her so much joy.  She had always said that she wanted to live closer to her brothers and sisters.  A week is never enough, and neither was the time we had left before we needed to get back on the road. 

We drove north.  We spent many sad trips driving north in our lives.  Driving home from seeing family in Florida.  We pick up every year where we left off, with new cousins, and new scars.  Leaving this time felt unfamiliar in that something was different.  We were unable to put our fingers on it at this time.   Mary and I fought over the music on this portion of the trip.  Mom was the tie-breaker. We landed on Sarah McLachlan.  Despite the feeling that I was on the way to Lilith fair, I enjoyed the music and the company.  Mom reminded us of the theatrics we would engage in about the music, and that she was proud that we've learned to compromise our tastes for what would only echo in our ears in this instance. "Mary's was more like a tantrum," I said jokingly.  Mary was passionate about her music, and very passionate about bad music not tainting her experience.  

When we got to Martinsburg, we were tired.  We found our accommodations nice.  We decided to save money and I would get the one twin-bed, and Mary and Mom would share the other.  We left mom alone for a bit so we could go down to the pull.  Mary and I swam until our hands looked like the bed of a shallow creek after the rain had worn it down.  When we returned to the room mom was reading another book. She was a fervent, and fast reader.  She loved books about life, love, and even the darker and more mysterious parts of life.  I always loved that my mother was so passionate about stories and reading.  Somehow it made me feel smarter.  

The next morning we woke up too late for breakfast at the hotel so we grabbed some on the way.  We drove down to the first house I can remember.  It was a duplex on Maple street. The house still looked the same other than the additional chipped paint on the porch, and the bike leaned up against it.  We pulled up but didn't get out.  "Remember the pictures of you and William with the socks on your hands to dress like the Easter bunny?" Mary asked.  I reminded her that she participated in that picture.  Willam was our next door neighbor, and my best friend.  William's old house looked almost as nice as it did from thirty years ago.  We all smiled.  Mom reminded us of the church around the corner where we first learned of God, and Heaven.  We sat on the porch, we once sat on as children and a mom that was working to put herself through school while being committed to being a good parent.  I personally don't have a lot of memories in this house, but I could tell she did.

We were ready to go to our next house.  Mom rented a larger house on Raleigh Street.  It was a row house on one of the busier streets in Martinsburg.  When we arrived it looked a lot different. The railing around the porch was now gone, and the face of the house was exposed to the side walk and the passers by.  We parked across the street and gazed at the place where we had many fond memories.  Our first dogs, Chip and Twink joined our family here.  We reminisced about the time Mary and I opened up all the Christmas gifts before Mom came downstairs because we mistook a sickly "yes" in place of whatever she said.  She had long forgiven us for this, yet I was emotionally aware enough to know that she was hurt.  We remembered friends that we had made, and the trouble Mary and I got in.  Although a fleeting moment in time, this was when the three of us were all we had, and Mary and I are thankful. Even though our younger selves didn't know how great we had it.  

When we left we decided to visit some other places that we often frequented as youth.  Mom drove this time, and felt compelled to take us to War Memorial Park where she once took us there to see Jesse Jackson campaign for presidency.  We then went to Harper's Ferry, and Anteitam battlefield.  We didn't have time to get out and do much, but we enjoyed the drive over.  Mary started to tear up.  I decided we should pull over at a rest-stop and take a pause.  Mom pulled into the next one. I got out of the car as she was consoling Mary.  I don't know what she said, but it's as if I would never be let in on the secret when I returned.  I'm not sure what was said yet I was okay with that.  Mom and Mary had a special connection that only mothers and daughters have. We left West Virginia and never looked back.  We headed south again toward North Carolina.  My home state.  At least the one that I will always call my home.  

Again we drove through many back roads.  Mom didn't need to ask.  I took us there because I am my mother's son.  I told mom how much I respected her for always being supportive of my father.  They had divorced when we were very young.  So many kids are torn apart by lovelorn parents that have been scarred by a bad marriage.  She allowed me to continue hero worshiping him despite any personal bias.  "You never said a bad thing about dad," I said. As a child I didn't quite understand why they weren't together.  As an adult I know that it just wasn't meant to be.  And sometimes life is like that. Good things can come from just living versus always being on the planned path.  

 She had always told us how important it was that we had a relationship with him.  "You would be hard pressed to think of a time that mom said anything bad about anyone," Mary said.  Mom looked at her and smiled.  The lines on her face were distinct, and when she smiled her face seemed to be at its most natural state.  And the argument, I couldn't prove otherwise...  

We passed through Pine Hall, and Thomasville.  The memories there were very different experiences for all of us.  Some weren't great, but we talked about how throughout it all we were together despite some of the more trying moments in our lives.  Mom wanted to stop by our house on Friendship Ledford Road.  We pulled into one of our old churches. My mom never felt comfortable here despite her unwavering faith. This was no fault of hers, I don't think she ever felt at home in that house nevermind the church.  Her new marriage hadn't panned out the way that she anticipated, and despite her optimism for change it wasn't going to happen. After some silence, Mary reminded us of some of the funny stories from our time there.  I told the story about how I used to play pranks on my stepdad. He would fall asleep late at night on the floor, and I would put random kitchen tools in his hand, and once a jar of pickles.  By the time we woke up in the morning he had put them up.  I always laughed wondering what he thought had happened the night before.   Mom brought up how proud she was of Mary for her achievements in school.  She reminded me of my late night basketball games by the spotlight in the driveway, and that she rarely missed any of my football or basketball games.  She was right.  She was my biggest fan.  No matter how self-involved we were as teenagers, she was that constant.  

We bypassed the Winston Salem portion of that trip, and headed to High Point where Mom bought a townhome.  I didn't live there long because I was in college, but Mary and her had many fond memories. "Remember that time that Pookie (a nickname for our Japanese exchange student-sister) stuck her finger in Cocoa's (our cat) butt?", Mary said.  Mom laughed too.  She could laugh at even the most tasteless of jokes (having three brothers), and the most sophisticated.  "That look of horror on her face was a cross between something sour, and infuriating," mom shared.  We all laughed.  The house looked to be vacated, yet we were able to envision it as if we still lived there.  We let ourselves in.  The small kitchen where mom cooked her red chili, and chicken and dumplings.  The Dining Room which was more of an office area/slash dining area. The sunlit living room where mom would read her books, and watch television late at night while Mary and I were out living our late teenage lives.  I brought my girlfriends there to meet her. She was always so welcoming to anyone that I brought home, even the ones she knew wouldn't last.  We went upstairs and looked at our old rooms. Mom sacrificed the master bedroom to Mary and Mami for a few years, and then to me for the short period I lived there and accumulated a bunch of stuff.  We walked in the master and saw where Mary and Mami had their sleeping areas separated by a book shelf.  The back of the bookshelf was covered in chalk and drawings that Mami had scribbled while laying in her bed.  Mary reminded me of my "acting" when she filmed a student horror film for a class at school. "The only thing that was horrifying was my acting..." I said.  This house was an important pivot for many of us in our lives.  This was where mom declared her independence from her previous marriage, and we started to discover who we were going to be as adults.  The home was small, but the history there was grand.  

Mom bought a small cottage house down the street. It had its own walls, and yard.  It made up in character what it lacked in size. It was perfect for mom, and her cat and dog.  The house wasn't impressive but she was proud of it because it was hers, and she had worked hard to buy her own house.    When we arrived to her little abode on Chestnut street, we pulled in.  No one was living there, and it looked as if there was some construction going on back behind it.  We got out of the car and looked around.  The house needed a paint job, and a new roof.  It was well shaded, and had a fenced back yard.  Mary thought of Remo her sweet dog that mom and her found at a pet fair.  " Remo loved this house," Mary said.  Mom smiled.  "Yeah, and he loved you mom.  Remember how he would protect you and growl at me anytime I was near," I said.  We all stood there.  We took it in. Mom truly is the most humble and un-materialistic person on the planet.  She has more education than most people (two masters degrees), yet nothing of real "value" on the street.  Even her jewelry is just sentimental.  Mom had a whole room full of shelves filled with books. I had no doubt she read them all unlike my shelves at home.  "I really enjoyed going to the book sales at the library," I told mom.  "Me too. That was our thing," she said.  I couldn't keep up with her reading, and I always envied that about her.   She instilled the value of education, and reading in both Mary and me.  The moment was short, but the pause was lengthy.  When we left here we just drove.  No destination, just time passing by.  

Mom broke the silence by making a comment about the size of the last house she lived in NC.  This house was truly small.  She was so proud of herself for selling her old house, and paying off all her debt.  She was preparing for the next stage in her life.  I had always thought that she would move close to Mary, or Aunt Pat.  "It is a small house mom..." Mary said.  I reminded both of them that it wasn't smaller than the dwarf house back in Shepardstown that we used to go and visit from time to time.  I quietly thought about how I was a little embarrassed that Mom lived there.  Yet, she never thought twice about it.  Again she only lived life for her work, her family, and for the quietness of nature.  She never pursued another's favor, or to impress anyone. I looked over at her as she drove us through the late afternoon into the evening.  Although the trip must've been days it was fleeting for all of us.  We soon pulled up to a quiet park in Virginia.  

When we got out of the car we all stretched.  "It all feels so short," Mary said to me.  I just looked at her, not quite clear what the words meant but somehow understanding.  "No matter what.  You and I will always be close right?" I asked her.  She hugged me. We watched Mom walking up to the park where we could hear kids playing.  When we rounded the corner as the playground equipment became more distinct, and the park widened.  Mom walked up to all of her grandkids.  It didn't even register with us why they were here, or who was watching them.  They were all under their best behavior. Even Liam. Then we heard a loud "Mommy" as my wife came out to greet us.  She came up and hugged our mom.  When they broke embrace Jen joined Mary and me.  We sat as mom sat on the stairs talking to Aubrey.  They discussed school, and the trip they had to Lancaster.  Aubrey was quiet, but happy.  Her beauty was understated but profound.  Like the sunset peaking out behind cloud cover just waiting for that moment to shine.  I told Jen, my wife, that "they are so close." "She adores Aubrey," Mary said, somehow realizing that the daughter - mother bond extends to granddaughters. Mom then talked to Liam about video games despite her lack of knowledge about anything he was sharing.  Liam felt loved.  Dylan and Violet were over on the swings.  We pushed them as Mom talked to Liam and Dylan about the importance of school, and being kind to each other.  She was overheard saying "Live close to each other if you can, or at least find away to be close frequently."  

I looked at Mary and said, "Did mom ever say that to us?"  Mary answered, "I know she did.... but we all do it right?"

"What's that," I said.  

"Take family for granted."  She was right. 

She walked up to us and smiled.  We let her push Violet for a while.  Dylan wanted to show her his toys. He had two small action figures that he held onto like the most important possessions in the world.  "Nana, come over my house," he said.  He loved his Nana.  

It was time to go.  Jen was happy to help, but I could tell she wanted to come with us.  The car was only so big, and Nana had a lot of grandkids.  We all kissed our kids, and shared another hug, after hug.  I kissed my wife on the head, and told her "thank you".  I could tell she was sad, yet I didn't quite grasp why.  I would be home later.  

As we got into the car we let mom choose her soundtrack for the last leg of our trip.  We were heading back to Roanoke.  Mom picked songs that reminded her of her childhood.  She told us a few stories about Grandad Ryan and how mad he would get when her brothers and her acted out on the trip.  How to ask to stop before the "planned-stop" was not forgivable. She told us about frogs getting loose in the basement.  She talked about his love for baseball, and how it was like a sixth sibling.  She talked about how touching it was at his funeral where thousands of people had come to say goodbye to Okey Ryan.  They ended the ceremony with "Take me out to the ballgame." Mary and I both love that story. Mom would go to baseball games over the past few years to feel closer to him.  The sun was starting to set behind the mountains.  We could see the Roanoke star illuminate a little early.  "I've taken Aubrey, and Violet up there," she said, speaking about the star.  I had never been up there, so I knew that was a stop that I had to take in the near future and that it would forever be important to me and them. When we got to Vinton, we were all tired.  We all went around and shared what was the best part of the trip.  

"I liked the sight seeing." I said.  I always enjoyed history and being in the shadows of defining moments in humanity.  "I loved the memories we had being exposed to all of these great landmarks, and that they are forever connected to me and our family, and our road trips."  

Mary said, "I enjoyed the stories. We had so many great stories. It feels like we could continue this trip and still have more stories to share that we didn't even talk about.  Endless stories..."  We all nodded, and thought that it would be nice. I could see tears forming in Mary's eye.  Mom was stoic, and happy.

We both looked at mom.  Waiting for her to answer.  She smiled. 

"Everything".

When we opened the door her husband was standing there. She was so happy to see him.  We were too.  Although he arrived late in the journey, it felt as if he had been here all along. He grabbed her bag from the trunk.  He took her hand and walked back to their house.  The sun was all but gone.  Dim, and orange.  We waved goodbye, and happy that she had found true love after a few tries at just love. 

Mary and I left, and headed back home. That part of the journey I don't remember.  I just know that we had to get back to our homes, and  that mom was where she wanted to be.  

----

I awoke knowing that was just a nap.   Disappointed but thankful to have had that trip.  Even though it wasn't real, it felt real.  We had so many trips in our lives.  I don't know if we drove because it was cheap, or if we just liked driving.  I know now that I liked the latter. What soon became apparent is that I needed to get home myself.  I had some sweat on my brow from the nap and my phone had a few messages on it.  Messages from friends reminding me that what I woke up to is real, and there's no going back.  

I cooked out for the family plus Mary and Violet.  The kids played.  We talked about arrangements, and plans.  We had to be discreet because none of the kids knew.  I had planned to tell the older ones after dinner when things had calmed down.  

When I told Aubrey I took her out to the porch swing.  One that she and Nana had once sat on.  I often think about that.  We go through life making memories while failing to recognize the poignance of the moment.  Aubrey was already crying from some other provocation from her brother.  I just let her cry.  Moments like these are often rushed.  I asked her what was bothering her.  She shared that she has all this responsibility since I haven't been home.  "I'm not able to ride my bike. I can't go to my friends house. Mom needs me to help with the babies." I could tell she was taking on a lot of responsibility.  The part where I lost some control of my emotions was when she said she hadn't had a good day since Nana got sick, and that she wanted to spend more time with me.  I agreed to find more time, and that her and I would have a special day.  When I told her that Nana had gone to heaven she really lost it.  It's hard to imagine how a kid will take something of this gravity.  Kids are supposed to learn about death from a pet.  Tragically cancer has robbed many young children of their grandparents, and parents.  I sat there and held my beautiful daughter as she shook, and hugged me tight.  This was the closest i had ever felt to her.  That spark of connection that her and I are forever connected by blood.  The blood of my beautiful, kind, and wonderful mother.  We sat our their for awhile watching the sun go down.  I told her, unsure of myself, that Nana will always be watching over her, and her brothers. I told her how proud she was of Aubrey.  I do know that to be as true as anything that ever was said.  That love was undeniable.  

Once I had gotten Aubrey to agree to keeping this a secret--at least--until we had a chance to tell the other kids.  I walked up the stairs to read a story to Liam.  He was already lying on the bed ready for me.  He was really tired, so he was not very patient.  I was glad that I had gotten the difficult one out of the way.  What I soon realized was that I couldn't have been more wrong.  When I told Liam the tears were quick, and the sobs were loud.  He always said such sweet, and age-appropriately selfish things like "I want to go on a trip with Nana like Aubrey did".  This time he was just sad that he would never get to see his Nana again, and that the trip was definitely out of the question. The sobs shook him, and shook me along with it.  His mom heard him crying and she came into the room.  This was the first time I really saw her breakdown.  She held the both of us, and we all cried.  

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This is undoubtedly the hardest thing I've ever gone through.  I took her for granted.  We all did.  Life is so fragile.  There's people on this earth that make you wonder how they got as far as they have yet they get to do it again the next day, and the next.  Mom was a quiet, unassuming person.  She was also the most kind, caring, and unwavering of an optimist that ever graced the earth with her breath.  She loved without expectation. She gave her time, resources, and love to everyone that she came into contact with.  My mom was a great educator.  She was a pure Christian.  One that wasn't adorned with the self-hate and loathing of so many that feel that shame for their hypocrisy.  She was a great mother. One that raised her kids to be unabashedly imperfect, but try to be the best that we can be.  She didn't allow me to quit anything as a kid, yet when I did--she accepted it.  I will always love you, and I am forever grateful.  I hope to see you again someday when my duty is done.  Until then, rest quietly and send me a sign from time to time.  I know you're somewhere out there.