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Show Me Something I’ve Never Seen Before

Posted on July 14, 2011 Written by Tonya

Show me something I’ve never seen before; a treasured photograph of your grandparents or a handkerchief your father wore in his lapel.

Take me somewhere I’ve never been; a place where the land meets the sea, the breeze is cool and your mind calms.

Introduce me to the friend you’ve known the longest, a dish at your favorite restaurant and a book you stayed up all night reading.

Feed me tales and sweet memories of your childhood.

Walk me through the details of your wedding day right up to the moment, with hope glistening in your eyes and your voice trembling you said, “I do”.

Sing me the same soothing lullaby night after night; the one that helps ease my fears and dream vividly.

Tell me a secret and I promise to keep it safe in my heart forever.

Let me make mistakes and learn as I go, no matter how difficult it may be for you to witness.

Treat me with kindness and respect all the days of your life.

Read me a page from the journal you kept as a child so that I might have a glimpse of the dreams you had as a young girl.

Bake me oatmeal chocolate chip cookies from a recipe that has been in your family for generations.

Teach me the lyrics to your favorite song and whenever I hear it I’ll feel closer to you even if we are miles apart.

Protect me, as best you can, from negativity, bullies and cars that drive down our street much too fast.

Help me see the good in people, root for the underdog and learn to forgive by building compassion in my heart and in my soul.

Cradle me in your arms while you smooth out my hair and tenderly run your fingers down my back.

Guide me through life as though you were my tour guide, exposing me to places near and far but always emphasizing the importance of home.

Look me in the eyes when you have bad news to share or we toast to those no longer with us.

Remind me, despite my flaws, how special I am and I’ll do the same for you.

Comfort me with your words of love, honesty and praise.

Show me something I’ve never seen before, mom.

This post was featured on Natalie’s blog, Mommy of a Monster, in her weekly feature, Monster Likes #26 on Saturday, July 16, 2011.

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A Fine Mess

Posted on May 2, 2011 Written by Tonya

I didn’t come undone.

I was in shock for sure and completely devastated, but I didn’t lose my shit.

I couldn’t.

I couldn’t come unglued.

I had a younger sister to consider.

I had a younger sister that had just lost her parents and if I thought I was too young at 35 to be going through this, she was definitely too young at 23.

Not to mention, there was so much to be done.

So many decisions that needed to be made right away. There were phone calls to make, e-mails to send, notes to take, questions to ask, the repatriation of their bodies, a funeral home to select, urns to chose, a service to prepare for, documents, signatures, lawyers, and then ultimately, homes to clear out and an estate to settle.

I didn’t make any of tough decisions alone. Thankfully, I had my husband and my sister by my side, but it still felt like I was the one in charge.

My emotions could wait.

I thought I could delay my grieving process just a little longer.

Of course, I was wrong, so….

Four days after the memorial service, I returned to work in search of normalcy. Almost a year later I quit my job and discovered a new normal all together.

In the year that followed my parents deaths, I exercised like a maniac, which made me feel stronger physically. It also created endorphins that made me feel better mentally. Today, I’m an endorphin junkie!

I talk about my loss with anyone that will listen in a honest and open way.

I seek help in the form of a grief counselor or a glass of wine at the end of a particularly rough day, but have never turned to antidepressants.

I work through and with my sadness.

I cry.

I go through photos and momentos and remember.

I write.

A lot.

I could have curled up in a little ball and shut the world out, I could have let this tragic loss break me, but I made a conscious decision not to. It hurt like hell, but I chose to put one foot in front of the other and just keep living.

Some may say I’ve pushed my grief aside in an effort to avoid it or that I have compartmentalized it; placing it neatly on a shelf to address at another time, but I assure you I DEAL with it every day. It’s always there.

It is definitely a long and arduous process but I have learned that I am stronger than I ever thought I could be and I am very proud of the way I have navigated through such uncharted territories, especially considering I became a mother right smack dab in the middle of it all.

This post is for The Red Dress Club’s writing assignment, RemebeRED. This week’s prompt was: Tell the story (without any trivialization or modesty) of something in your life that you are proud of.

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A Woman I Didn’t Know

Posted on April 20, 2011 Written by Tonya

I had a good mother but she and I did not have the type of relationship that I would have liked. We didn’t share intimate secrets or inside jokes. She wasn’t the first person I would think of to call when I had a dilemma. I loved her dearly but I didn’t know her at all.

It’s taken me a long time to be able to admit that my mother and I were not close, especially since she has been gone for over three years.

My mother was a sweet and giving person. She taught kindergarten or third grade my whole life. She loved to celebrate each and every holiday with gusto. She sent heartfelt greeting cards and made the best chocolate chip cookies on the planet. Her motto was a cliche that I grew to hate: c’est la vie because it became her “go to” response to EVERYTHING.

My mother was a very intelligent woman and I can recall hearing my father comment many times on her high IQ, but she didn’t talk very much.

I don’t think she knew how to express herself.

Until I realized that, she seemed disinterested, oblivious and even intimated by me. I know she must have had a lot of opinions, but she didn’t share them, even after much probing.

There were nightly conversations in our home on a variety of topics ranging from entertainment and politics to current events and religion and it was always my father, sister and me having the discussions, while my mother sat quietly on the sidelines not contributing a word.

Was it our fault?

Did we not include her enough?

Did she think she couldn’t relate?

Did she feel as though her opinion didn’t matter to us?

It did. Very much.

She appeared to be listening and taking it all in, but there was zero exchange.

I was once at a job for more than two years before she ever asked me what it was that I did.

I can accept the things my mother was, but to this day I cannot accept the things that she was not.

I wish we had both tried harder.

If my mother blogged or even kept a hand written diary when I was Lucas’ age, I feel like I would have been privy to a woman I don’t feel like I knew. I would have learned of her inner most thoughts and feelings on motherhood, dreams for me and herself. I would be able to read about her passions, joys, sorrows, strengths and weaknesses and love for me.

I would have very much appreciate, benefited from and cherished a Letters For Tonya blog.

This post was written for Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop, Prompt 2.) If my Mom were a blogger…

School Days

Posted on March 29, 2011 Written by Tonya

From 1976-1979, my parents taught on an Indian reservation in Sells, Arizona. My mother taught kindergarten and my father, high school U.S. history.

For reasons I’m unclear of, I attended a Catholic school in a different district for kindergarten and first grade, almost nine miles away in Topawa. My family isn’t Catholic.

The scent of Play-Doh and Coppertone, riding my Big Wheel up and down the sidewalk in front of our house, skinned knees, playing house, watching the Donnie and Marie Show, too much sugar cereal and wishing I was older all remind me of my childhood, but it’s six very distinctive events that stand out when I think back to being four and five years old and my first school days:

1. I got to ride the school bus all by myself for what I now know was only 20 minutes, but back then felt like 90. How grown up I felt. It was frightening too, especially the time that I missed my stop and a policeman escorted the bus to pull over so that I get off after multiple radio calls were made regarding my whereabouts. I knew full well that the light haired, light eyed little girl they were talking about was me.

2. I stapled my finger to see what it would feel like and I quickly learned that it hurt like hell as I stood there bleeding my ruby red blood all over Miss Mills’ desk with big crocodile tears streaming down my face. I’ve never done that again!

3. Catholic nuns can be both vicious and the most endearing women on the planet.

4. Case and point: Once Sister Trecel made me eat a banana at lunch even though I told her that it would make me sick. When I threw up all over her and her starch black and white habit, she sent me home with a note of apology to my parents pinned to my shirt.

5. Naps… need I say more? Actually, it is not the naps that I recall so much as the uncomfortable green army cots and the giant pools of drool that I remember most of all. Not mine, mind you. I also remember laying there for what seemed like forever listening to my class mates snore. I still can’t nap.

6. When Miss Mills asked us to draw a picture of our family, I drew my mother, father, myself and my baby sister. Miss Mills called my mother that evening to congratulate her on our family’s new addition. My sister, Leah wouldn’t be born for another eight years. Gulp! Thinking back on this family portrait always reminds me how much I longed for a sibling.

Two big years of my young life as defined by six small events that stand out very clearly in my adult head.

This post is for The Red Dress Club’s writing assignment, RemembeRED. This week’s prompt was to remember kindergarten.

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One Year Ago

Posted on March 2, 2011 Written by Tonya

Exactly one year ago today, March 3, I wrote this post: Safety First. We were having our home baby proofed by a professional baby proofing company (because God knows we couldn’t have done it ourselves) and discovered that our home was unprotected by a carbon monoxide detector.

This was shocking news to me because 1) I thought we had one and 2) My parents died of carbon monoxide poisoning. Boy, did I feel stupid! We immediately rectified this oversight. I urge all of you to make sure you too have a CO detector and that it is in working order. It can save lives!

Also a year ago…

Lucas turned nine months old, just learned how to clap, went into a swimming pool for the first time and started wearing the Doc Band, my sister turned 26, we were starting to really listen to nursery rhymes, I was lusting after Pretty Things and I read Kelly Corrigan’s beautiful memoir, The Middle Place.

Last week I wrote my 500th Letters For Lucas post, Lucas is almost 21 months old, Leah will be 27 on Monday, we have a new address, my husband has his own vintage car showroom, which has been (knock on wood) very successful so far and I’m reading One Amazing Thing by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni and I’m still lusting after pretty things:

Bailey Console Table – Pottery Barn

Love Letters Sheet Set – Anthropologie

Wall Art – Land of Nod

The last week has been rough. Lucas has been sick with the worst cold/flu of his young life and we have been to the pediatrician’s office twice, most recently to find out he now has a double ear infection. I’ve been sick too and so has Todd. Taking care of a sick child when you’re sick too is no fun!

Never a dull moment…

As always, then and now, our life is full of ups and downs, but also a lot of humor along the way.

How has your life changed in one year?

This post was written for Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop Prompt 3) What were you blogging about last year at this time? What has changed?

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Mysterious Ways

Posted on February 10, 2011 Written by Tonya

I could never have imagined that my parents would not meet my son.

It didn’t once enter my thought process when I dreamed about having a family. In my mind, two sets of grandparents were always part of that equation.

Being a parent without parents never ever crossed my mind.

They should be here.

My son should have two sets of grandparents.

My mother and father should know Lucas.

Lucas should know my mother and father.

He will.

Lucas will know my parents through me and my husband and my sister and anyone else that wants to tell him about what amazing people they were. He’ll hear that he reminds us of them in small ways; like a simple expression on his face that looks just like one my mother would make when she was giddy with excitement and big ways, too, like Lucas’ insatiable curiosity that was so similar to my father’s and how they were taken from all of us too soon.

But it’s not the same.

Lucas is missing being able to go to a Red Sox game with my dad, hear first hand about the small town in Texas where he grew up. He is missing learning about stamp collecting, how to make the perfect Orange Julius and the intrigue of film-noir movies.

Lucas is missing holding my mother’s soft hands, devouring her scrumptious chocolate chip cookies and celebrating each and every holiday with gusto, as only she knew how.

Lucas is missing out on so much.

But they are missing out too.

I have a beautiful, smart, funny, awesome son and just once, I’d love for my parents to able to hear his magical laughter every time I chase him around the park.

Losing my mother and father at such an early age, mine and theirs respectively, is unfathomable. But, sometimes the universe works in mysterious ways and the unfathomable happens. I lost my parents and less than a year later became pregnant with Lucas. I suffered the greatest loss of my life and then gained light and hope and more joy than I ever thought my heart could hold.

I could never have imagined that my parents would not meet my son or that they wouldn’t be here longer than they were, but the way I used to think changed and then the whole world shifted.

If want to know more about how I lost my parents, please read For My Broken Heart.

This post is for The Red Dress Club’s writing meme, Red Writing Hood. This weeks prompt was to write a post that begins with the line, “I could never have imagined” and ends with the line, “Then the whole world shifted.”

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Where Are You From?

Posted on December 6, 2010 Written by Tonya

“Where are you from?”

It’s such an ordinary question.

It’s right up there with, “what do you do?”.

All my life, however, my answer has been rather complicated.

As a response, “I was born in Texas, but grew up overseas” is rarely satisfactory. I think it’s the word: overseas. It sounds so exotic.

And it is.

Sort of.

The inquirer, if they want to know more, usually follows up with,”military brat?”

“No.”

“Peace Corps?”

“No, my parents worked in American-International schools and I lived all over.”

This reply is typically faced with one of two reactions:

1) A simple “oh”, due to lack of time and/or interest.

2) “Oh, where?”

Usually it’s 2) and then I list all the places I’ve lived; Karachi, Pakistan, Banjul, The Gambia in West Africa and Maracaibo, Venezuela.

It’s an impressive list, if I do say so myself. What’s even more impressive is that my parents continued to live and work aboard for another 18 years in four other countries (Somalia, Mozambique, Myanmar and Tunisia) after I returned to the states to attend college.

The 11 years (ages 7 – 17) I spent as an expat had its ups and downs, but for the most part was exciting, educational and a lot of fun. And I knew no different.

Every place I lived was coastal, so I grew to love the water. English was predominately spoken and my friends were mostly European, many of which I am still close with. I was exposed to more people, food, culture, customs, political beliefs and poverty than many of my American counterparts ever would be. I have had six passports, still have the travel bug and enjoy exploring outside the U.S. at least once a year. Luckily, I married someone with that same need and together, we want to show Lucas as many places around the globe as we can.

I feel so blessed to have had the opportunity to experience so much world travel and at such a young age, but there really is no place like the good ole US of A.

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Fortune Teller

Posted on October 29, 2010 Written by Tonya

Halloween is an excuse for women to show off a lot of skin, men to act creepier than usual hidden behind masks and everyone to eat too many sweets. It’s not even the 31st and I have already had my fill of candy corn. The last time I “dressed up” was six years ago for a co-workers Halloween party and I was a very demure 50’s girl complete with poodle skirt, cardigan sweater, pigtails and Keds. Clearly, I have never been a big fan of this holiday. I am, however, looking forward to creating new traditions for and with Lucas and this year will be his first time trick-or-treating. Pictures on Monday!

One thing about Halloween that is very intriguing to me are haunted houses, ghost stories, witches and fortune tellers. Like most, I’m not overly comfortable with the macabre, but there is a large part of me that believes strongly in the afterlife, mediums and those who can communicate with the dead and not a Halloween goes by that I don’t think about a story my grandmother and then mother used to tell me.

I didn’t know my grandmother (my mom’s mother) very well. We always lived very far away from my grandparents and we only saw them once a year. What I do recall is that she was a heavy smoker, very loud, collected owl figurines and loved to sew. The story she told made chills run up and down my spine.

My grandmother was 15 and out shopping with a girlfriend and stumbled upon a fortune teller. For kicks, they decided to go in. My grandmother went first and the psychic told her the “standard”, you’ll marry someone tall, dark and handsome, to which my grandmother giggled and then promptly forgot.

When it was her friend’s turn, the fortune teller clammed up and became very jittery. She claimed that she couldn’t tell the girl’s fortune because nothing was coming to her and instead wrote something on a piece of paper and asked her to put the note in her shoe and read once she got home.

The two girls carried on with their day, had lunch, did more shopping and as they were heading home crossed a busy intersection. My grandmother’s friend was hit a car. She was instantly killed.

According to my grandmother, the note tucked in her shoe read, “you’ll never live to read this”.

I have never heard this story from anyone else so as far as I know, it is true.

Wishing everyone a very happy and safe Halloween!

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Parenting Without Parents

Posted on June 19, 2010 Written by Tonya

I am parenting without parents. Are any of you?

People ask me about Lucas’ grandparents all the time. They know my husband’s parents live a two hour plane ride away and that we see them every month, but they don’t always know where my parents are. When I tell them, it always brings the conversation to a screeching halt. I hate it when that happens.

It’s always on my mind… my parents aren’t here.

My parents will never meet my son.

For those of you that don’t know, they both died almost three years ago of carbon monoxide poisoning. You can read details here.

A lot can happen in 32 months and every now and then, a little more than usual, (cue Lucas’ recent birthday, Father’s Day tomorrow and my birthday next week) I can’t stop thinking about, not only what they are missing, but what I am missing too. Can there be a statue of limitations on needing a mother even if you are a mother? I don’t think so.

It’s stupid really, I’m almost 38 and I have no one to call with my silly parenting questions. There’s no one to ask. Sure, I have a wonderful (much younger) sister, a loving aunt and uncle, a very smart mother-in-law, a supportive sister-in-law, who is also a mother of two and tons of amazing friends in the blog world and real life, but sometimes it feels like I’m flying solo on something I shouldn’t be.

To me, having a baby brings you closer to your own parents. You finally realize all the pain, suffering and worry they went through with you. Once you have a child of your own, you know just how much your mom and dad love you.

They should be here.

I should be having conversations about Lucas’ milestones, poop, food, toys and TV watching habits with my mom. I should be getting choked up over seeing my dad play with his grandson and rolling my eyes at them both when they try to put, yet another visit on the calendar. I should be asking them, “when did I do this, that or the other when I was his age?”.

It has only been one year!! How am I going to do this for the rest of my life? The rest of his life?

They would have been terrific grandparents.

Aside from two incredible people who built their lives around educating children, so much else was lost when my parents died; family traditions, history and a whole set of memories that I don’t share with anyone else but them. Whenever something crosses my mind that I think Lucas might be interested in or should know, I jot it down and more than once, I have poured my heart here. It helps, but I still miss them every day.

The best is yet to be.

Safety First

Posted on March 3, 2010 Written by Tonya

The baby proofer (Baby Safe Home) we hired is here today outfitting our house with baby gates, drawer and cabinet latches, toilet locks and furniture braces, all in an effort to keep Lucas safe.

We discovered that our home is NOT protected by a carbon monoxide detector. I am sick over this and needless to say we are having one installed right now.

My parents died of carbon monoxide poisoning, so this is a topic that is very near and dear to me.

I feel like such an idiot! I was under the impression that all homes built after 1980 (in this country) were automatically equip with one. I didn’t know how wrong I was!!

In North America, only state, provincial and municipal governments have statutes requiring installation of CO detectors in construction – among them: Alaska, Colorado, Connecticut, Florida, Georgia, Illinois, Maryland, Massachusetts, Minnesota, New Jersey, New York, Rhode Island, Texas, Vermont, Virginia, Wisconsin and West Virginia, as well as New York City.

Please, please, please check that your home has one and if not, get one immediately!!

The devices, which retail for $20-$60 and are widely available, can either be battery-operated or AC powered (with or without a battery backup). Battery lifetimes have been increasing as the technology has developed and certain battery powered devices now advertise a battery lifetime of over 6 years. All CO detectors have “test” buttons like smoke detectors.

CO detectors can be placed near the ceiling or near the floor because CO is very close to the same density as air.

Since CO is colorless, tasteless and odorless, detection in a home environment is impossible without such a warning device. It is a highly toxic inhalant and attracts to the hemoglobin (in the blood stream) 200x faster than oxygen, producing inadequate amounts of oxygen traveling through the body. It can kill.

For more information, please visit the Public Safety and Security Information Hub Web site.

The best is yet to be and I will sleep a little sounder tonight.

Day 8/100

Show Me Something I’ve Never Seen Before

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