loss

Dear Grandma Honey

Posted on October 18, 2011 Written by Tonya

I’m honored to have Monique, better known on Twitter as SurferWife here today with a tender letter to her dearly departed Grandma Honey.

After reading this, be sure to visit Monique’s blog, A Day in the Life of a Surferwife and search for “celebrity encounter”. You’ll be glad you did!

Dear Grandma Honey,

Just those first three words up above create a pit in my stomach and a clenching in my throat. How do I even begin to express my gratitude and appreciation for all that you have brought to my life?

Even though you were ALuckyDame of A Beautiful Mess and also my husband’s maternal grandmother, you were still my grandma, too, in all aspects of the name. Considering I met and started loving you when I was a mere 12 years old, gives us more time spent together than I ever had with either of my own biological grandmothers, that both passed when I was a teen.

Your cute, fluffy little white hair, high pitched, little grandma voice, your happy smile and warm eyes were all crucial pieces in you becoming everybody’s adopted Grandma Honey.

From the day I met you and Grandpa Bud, more than 22 years ago, I felt an instant connection. I always felt like you genuinely cared about me and my well being. When I went off to college, I eagerly awaited your cute handmade and hand stamped holiday cards. At any family gathering, I could count on you sitting me down and asking me about every element of my life. Your many questions about what I was eating and why I was so skinny, if there were any suitable boys to date, and if I did my homework always left me with a smile on my face and a giggle in my heart.

When I came home nine years ago with my sweet baby boy Jason, you showered him with gifts and welcomed him into your life with open arms. That alone meant more than the world to me and I hope you knew that, Grandma.

And then when your beloved grandson and I announced to the world that we were an item a couple years later, you and Grandpa Bud gave your blessing and told me what a perfect match we were, and why didn’t we figure this out years before when we were kids?

We celebrated the birth of your first great-grandchild, my daughter, on the day you buried your husband. It was an honor to be such a crucial component on a day that encompassed the circle of life for you. I could see the love and admiration in your eyes every time Haley reached a milestone. Just pure and unconditional love between a grandmother and her great-granddaughter.

Our time we spent together these past six years, when I legitimately became your granddaughter through marriage, is invaluable to me. Our long chats over McDonald’s ice cream, nutty bars and many lunch outings always left me so satiated and grateful to have a grandma that was loved by so many. The bond we shared will leave an eternal smile and place in my soul.

My heart hurts terribly knowing our conversation full of giggles and gossip have come to an end on this earth. But I hold tightly to the notion that we will do it again in another universe, Grandma. Thank you for loving me the way you did. I feel like the luckiest granddaughter-in-law ever for it.

Delphine Long - September 26, 1919 - September 18, 2011

We Remembered

Posted on October 18, 2011 Written by Tonya

We remembered.

We avoided eye contact at first.

We got dressed and put on make-up.

We went to brunch and toasted with champagne.

We enjoyed a little retail therapy and indulged in sweet treats. Both helped for a little while.

We received dozens of beautiful flowers and at least a 100 of other tokens of love and well wishes throughout the day in the form of phone calls, text messages, Facebook and Twitter posts. Each one helped immensely.

We listened to their favorite music and smiled.

We talked about the year ahead and what they would be missing.

We drew animals and painted shapes with Lucas and giggled.

We sat around the dining room table and devoured the comfort food my husband prepared. There were more toasts.

We looked through the sympathy cards we were sent four years ago. Many I had not read before. All of them heartfelt.

We went to a movie and sat side by side in the dark and laughed in all the same places.

We hugged.

We cried.

We remembered.

Another anniversary come and gone.

The Hole In My Heart

Posted on October 14, 2011 Written by Tonya

October used to mean feeling Fall in the air and spying Halloween merchandise on every aisle at the supermarket and being greeted by big shinny round pumpkins with glowing smiles on my neighbors front porches.

October meant the nights were getting longer and the air a little cooler. Not quite flannel jammies time, but close.

Conversations about how to spend Thanksgiving begin and Christmas shopping lists are started in October.

Now October has a new meaning.

In particular October 15, but the days leading up to it and the days preceding are tough too.

October 15 used to have no significance to me at all, just another day on the calendar.

Now it marks the anniversary of my parents’ death.

Today they have been gone for four years. 1460 days. It’s hard to believe it has been that long.

I dread the anniversary the most; more than their birthdays, more than Christmas, more than Mother’s Day, Father’s Day or their anniversary. The day I was notified my parents had died was the worst day and every October 15, I relive it. And every year I think it’s going to be a little easier, and it’s not.

I’ll never forgot sitting in my friend Suzy’s kitchen two weeks after the memorial service and watching her eyes fill with tears as she talked about her own father’s passing as if it happened the day before. He had died 30 years earlier.

In some ways this was strangely comforting to me; knowing I wasn’t alone in my grieve for a lost loved one and in other ways it made me even sadder than I already was. I realized this wasn’t something I was going to “get over”, I realized that death is as permanent as grieve and I would have to learn to live with this emptiness, the loss and the hole that was now forever in my heart.

I would have to live with the sadness each and every October and all the days in between.

Catalina Island, July 2005

One good thing occurred on October 15, 2008 on the one year anniversary, I told my sister I was six weeks pregnant with Lucas.

Adding To Our Family

Posted on October 5, 2011 Written by Tonya

The last time I owned a pet (other than a fish), I was 13. 32 years ago today (!) my family got a puppy.

The day we brought Licorice home, October 5, 1979.

Part Labrador, part Poodle and way before they were called Labradoodles, Licorice was black with a little patch of white fur on her chest. She was sweetest and smartest dog I’ve ever been around.

Running along the ocean was one of Licorice’s favorite activities and we had to spell the word beach or she would go bonkers.

Despite sleeping at the foot of my bed, to be fair Licorice was my mother’s dog. We had her for six years and when we moved, we gave her to some friends that lived down the street.

My mother and Licorice, circa 1982

It’s time for another dog.

My husband STRONGLY disagrees.

ARGUMENTS FOR GETTING A DOG:

We’ve been wanting to add to our family. A pet would be a perfect addition teaching Lucas responsibility and giving him a wonderful life long playmate.
We have a large backyard with plenty of room for a pooch to roam.
I don’t think a more unconditional love exists than the one between a dog and it’s owner. Even when you’re feeling (and acting) miserable, they still love you.
Lucas really like dogs, although to be honest (much to my chagrin), he seems like more of a cat person. WE WILL NOT BE OWNING A CAT!! EVER.
I love to walk and vow to be in charge of this daily (and nightly) activity.
Extra security… for when my husband travels.
Opportunity to give a dog a second chance by adopting or saving a pound puppy.
Who could resist these precious faces?

Image courtesy of Pinterest. Click image for source.

Image courtesy of Snowesti. Click image for source.

ARGUMENTS AGAINST GETTING A DOG:

Discovering my favorite shoes chewed to smithereens.
We can’t even potty train our son, how would we ever potty train an animal?
No more spontaneous (or the other variety) trips – kenneling is expensive.
Vet care, food, toys, bedding, treats, etc. are also expensive.
Training. Ugh!
Shedding. Sigh.
Poop.
Saying good-bye is inevitable.

Okay, he may have won this argument… for now.

What do you think? Do you own a dog? What love and hate about pet ownership?

This post was written for Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop, 1.) Share a disagreement you’re having with someone and let your readers be the judge!

Heartbeat

Posted on October 3, 2011 Written by Tonya

I am 10 minutes early.

After signing my name on the first available line, I sit and wait.

Deliberately I thumb through magazines, one after the other as families of four smile up at me from the glossy pages.

It’s finally my turn.

I am ushered to a dark room and asked to undress.

The image on the large screen above me is fuzzy, difficult to make out and yet somehow I know.

My hands begin to sweat and I am holding my breath.

“I’m sorry, there is no heartbeat.”

A sound I have never made before escapes my throat.

This post is for Write On Edge’s weekly writing assignment RemembRED. This week’s prompt: Conjure something. An object, a person, a feeling, a color, a season – whatever you like. But don’t tell me what it is, conjure it. 100 words or less. Constructive criticism is welcome.

The Summer Of ’69

Posted on September 26, 2011 Written by Tonya

Every now and then I have an undeniable and almost desperate need to be with family, members of my parents family that is.

Specifically my father’s family.

I want to talk about my father, ask questions and hear anecdotes about when he was a boy, a young man, how he was as a brother, an uncle and a friend.

I want to remember and hear about him being alive.

Last weekend, my sister and I took Lucas to visit our aunt and uncle (my father’s middle brother). We haven’t seen one another since Lucas was four months old.

Since my father died, seeing my uncle David will always be bittersweet. The resemblance to my father is uncanny and their mannerisms are so similar. I loved witnessing my uncle interact with Lucas. His tone and actions are so much like I imagine my father’s would be had he lived to be a grandparent.

One of the highlights of this trip, aside from being with family, was seeing the church my parents were married in 42 years ago on August 23, 1969.

Luckily, my sister carries this photo with her in her wallet. This awful reproduction was taken with my phone and the photo was just what we needed to confirm the exact side of the church my newlywed parents must have exited through, as there are many!

What dreams did they have have for themselves and their future together at the moment this photo was taken. Were they scared? Confident in their choice of life partners? Nervous about the journey that lie ahead, or simply deliriously happy and in love? I hope it was a combination of all four.

Family history is so important. It not only tells us who we are and where we come from, but it helps us remember when we are sad and it is one of the main reasons that I write, so that Lucas may know his (and me) better.

Family history is preserved through our children.

Tell Her

Posted on September 18, 2011 Written by Tonya

Tell her it has been far too long since we’ve seen her beautiful face or heard her deep laughter.

Make sure she knows we miss her.

Tell her we hear her; every single tear and every single plea and we wish we could provide the answers she seeks.

Tell her to trust in her heart that we are always by her side, even if she can’t see us and that whenever she feels a cool gentle breeze on a warm day or spots a hummingbird in the most peculiar of places, that is us; whenever the smile on a stranger’s face makes her feel at ease or she hears one of our family’s favorite songs on the radio, that is us too. We are all around quietly guiding and watching her.

Tell her how pleased we are with the woman she is becoming and the direction her life has taken. Assure her that her future is brilliant and that she should hold on to her dreams with fierce determination and with a little luck and a lot of hard work, they will come true.

Tell her there will be more heartache for her, but nothing that she is unable to withstand. Make her believe that she is so much stronger than we ever realized.

Let her her know that in tough times, it is okay to lean on you, Tonya, that though your exterior is tough, you feel as much as she does and will always be there for her. You are sisters and she needs to know how much you love her and that you always have her best interests at heart.

Tell her that your son is… well, there really are no words. Lucas is sublime and the perfect antidote for the sadness you both must feel since we’ve been gone. We are so grateful for his presence. He is wise beyond his years, enjoy him.

We don’t have to tell either of you how short life is or how it can change in an instant, you both know that now, better than anyone. We were not ready to go. Please live each day to it’s fullest and never forget how loved you are.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Knowing it would defy all logic and reason, it’s an interesting concept, so if my parents could reach me, I believe this is what they want me to tell my younger sister, Leah.

Someone’s Special Someone

Posted on September 10, 2011 Written by Tonya

I have written about 9/11 twice: Ten Years Later and We Will Never Forget.

It’s hard for me to believe that it has been 10 years since one of the saddest days in America’s history; a day that still boggles my mind.

The powerful and heart wrenching images that played over and over and over that fateful day and every September 11 since are etched in my memory and I know I am not alone.

Today, all I can think of are the 2,974 innocent lives that were lost on September 11, 2001. And all of the lives those lives touched. Each and every one of those people was someone’s special someone…. fathers, mothers, sisters brothers, sons, daughters, aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, nephews, co-workers, neighbors, mentors, friends and heroes.

They had faces, names, dreams, and lives worth living.

They are missed.

I believe that 9/11 should be a day of remembrance, not regret or political agendas. Life is short and can be irrevocably altered in the blink of an eye. If nothing else, hold your loved ones a little closer and longer today than usual and remember those no longer with us.

Cravings

Posted on August 14, 2011 Written by Tonya

Since I was 17, I’ve lived in a perpetual state of missing someone or something.

Topping my list has always has been my parents.

At 17, I went to boarding school for my senior year of high school and never lived under the same roof as them again. I missed them (and my sister) tremendously, but relished in “being on my own” for the first time.

After high school, there was college and still many miles between me and my family. We would spend time together during the holidays and throughout the summer, but I never had enough time with them.

My parents died in 2007 and I think about them and wish they were here every single day. I doubt that longing will never go away.

I missed school after I graduated. Both high school and college. I enjoyed school. I was good at it, especially the social aspect. Go figure!

Even though she’s only an hour away, I miss my sister.

I miss friends that I wish lived next door, in particular my oldest and dearest, friend Sophie.

Lucas met Sophie in New Caledonia in April, 2010.

Since becoming a mother, my desires are simpler, in no particular order here’s what’s missing from my life these days:

1. Sleep. In particular, sleeping in.

2. Grab and gos. The ability to go anywhere without a huge production, whether that means, packing snacks, diapers, struggling to put on someone’s shoes or booking a sitter. I miss the days of just grabbing my purse and going.

3. Living guilt free. I’ve learned guilt comes with the mom territory in many forms and there is no escape…. am I spending enough time with him, is he watching too much TV, am I exposing him to the right activities for his age, how can I get more vegetables into his diet, etc., etc., etc.?

4. Watching TV. Whatever I want, whenever I want.

5. My own name. All I hear any more is “Mommy!”. And “no!”.

6. Did I mention sleep?

7. The sounds of silence. See #5.

8. Yoga. I am going to get back to a regular practice if it kills me. I joined a yoga studio four months ago and have only taken two classes.

9. Going to the bathroom. Alone.

10. Dinner. Easting at home is rushed, eating out is rushed. I miss long, leisurely dinners that were several courses long and lasted longer than an hour.

This post was inspired by Stasha’s Monday Listicles, a linky right up my alley! This week’s topic is 10 I Miss.

Uncertainty

Posted on July 27, 2011 Written by Tonya

Each and every day, I strive to appreciate the wonder, beauty, and whimsy in the small moments, the moments that, when strung together, form a lifetime.

From the moment I read this on the Home page of In These Small Moments, I knew Nicole and I would be friends someday.

Her writing is eloquent, touching and magical. It doesn’t matter if she’s writing a letter to her daughter’s teachers, allowing us a glimpse of the beautiful love she and her husband have for one another, sharing her grief for a father she never knew, or showing us a small moment spent with her son, Nicole writes purely, deeply and from the heart.

I am very honored to have her here today.

Please follow Nicole on Facebook and Twitter and look for her at BlogHer ’11, where she and I will most certainly be sharing a ~~glass~~ bottle of wine.
__________________________________________

I’ve known for all of my life that my father was dead.

I was told that he was in Heaven…that he loved me very much and one day I would join him.

I’ve also known for my entire life that my brother was dead…that he was with my father and they were waiting patiently for me.

From a very young age, I felt that tremendous, consuming weight of death.

It became my responsibility to care for my mother and younger brother, as I was petrified of losing them too.

I don’t remember a time in my life when I didn’t struggle with anxiety…with fear.

My father was dead and fear of losing my mother was truly paralyzing.

My older brother died as an infant, so losing my younger brother wasn’t an irrational fear.

Tonya asked me one day, nearly a year ago, how I will explain my father’s death to my children.

My mother was faced with the choice between telling me the truth, as appropriate to my age, and distracting me with half-truths.

She chose the former.

And I’m not sure if there was a right answer.

For as long as I can remember, I have known bits of the truth that came to form a whole by the time I was a teenager.

I knew that my father’s best friend shot him. Twice. At close range.

And for my entire childhood, death was real.

It lurked behind every car trip.
Behind every scary face.
Around every corner.

I lay in bed at night, nearly every night of my childhood, bargaining with God.

I’ll be a good girl, God…please just don’t take my mother. I have nothing else.

I won’t sass, God.

I will keep my room clean, be nice to my brother.

Just please don’t take them, too.

When my daughter turned two, I felt as though I could breathe a little easier…that she was finally at an age when she could begin to store her memories…just in case.

That’s how I’ve lived my life, gathering small moments and stocking them away, just in case.

So, as my daughter approaches the age where she’s making connections, seeing where she fits into a larger whole, her little wheels are spinning and it won’t be long before she asks me where her grandfather is.

And it will paralyze me.

Because he is dead and I’m not as certain of that Heaven as I once was.

What will I tell my children?
Will I be as honest with them as my mother was with me?
Will I tell them comforting stories of Heaven and being together as a family one day?
Or do I have some other choice that I can’t see in this moment?

As the months since Tonya’s invitation have passed, I hoped that I would reach some conclusion…that the answer would take shape in my mind.

But it hasn’t.

And as more time passes, I’m not certain that there will ever be an easy answer.

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Dear Grandma Honey

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