It Used To Be Your Birthday...

You would have been 78 today. 

We would have celebrated. 

Probably dinner topped off with cake and ice cream. 

Presents. 

Laughs. 

Love. 

It used to be your birthday. 

That all stopped so many years ago. 

In fact, it's sometimes hard to remember the birthdays we did celebrate together. 

But they're there. Deep in my memories. 

It's amazing how my heart has glazed over in a futile attempt to ease the pain of your loss. 

It doesn't work. The devastation still seeps in. 

I got that book of poems out tonight. The one you gave me a few months before our worlds changed. 

I rarely open it. 

Instantly brings tears to my eyes. It's too much. 

I think I opened it tonight because I had a glass of wine. Must have been fate. The kids went on a late night run to the liquor store and asked me if I wanted any. I said yes. Took one last swig in the kitchen, before I headed to bed, in your honor. You would have loved that. You did enjoy your wine. We didn't drink often enough together. I loved when we did. It's those types of moments that make me smile through my tears. 

Do you ever stop needing your mom? Do you ever stop missing her when she's no longer here? Does the immense loss ever lessen? 

I think of you everyday, at some point, whether consciously or unconsciously. 

Damn. I miss you. 

The poems helped. They make me feel

closer to you, somehow, and I need those minutes when I can forget the stark reality of a life without you in it. 

I found myself drawn to your note in the margin tonight. 

Reminding me that you're still in my heart to listen. 

It's not what I want. I'd do almost anything to have you back. I know that can't happen but it doesn't make the wanting any less. 

So, for another birthday apart, I'm holding you close in my heart. 

Happy Birthday, my sweet Mama. 

I hope you truly can hear me. 

My heart is full. I'm almost positive you're there. 

It is what it is. 

p

 

 

 

 

 

Most Cherished Time of the Year...

We'll soon be leaving for our annual family vacation. 

Sometimes, it's just the six of us. 

Other times, Ed's aunts and uncles also go, with their families, and we have a family reunion, of sorts, on Okaloosa Island. One of Ed's aunts actually found the condo complex where we stay and we haven't missed a year. 

It's our most cherished time of the year.

We pack up our well-worn suburban, affectionally named the 'Fun Bus,' and there's not an inch of space to spare. But it wouldn't be a trip without the discomfort of being in such close proximity for 14 hours. 

The hours allow for us to reconnect. 

Sometimes we talk, sometimes we listen to music; other times the kids all have their headphones in. Lots of reading goes on. And, of course, the attempts to sleep as you sit upright in a seat which are mostly unsuccessful. 

It's our most cherished time of the year. 

By the time we reach Florida, we're all more than ready to be there and out of the suburban. 

We've gone so many years that we have the routine down pat. 

Once inside the condo, we all breathe a sigh of relief to have arrived and, even though we've seen the sight so many times before, we continue to be surprised and amazed at the beauty of the ocean outside our balcony sliding doors. 

Our days are filled with sunshine and sunscreen. Also, a variety of beach appropriate drinks. It's a time for experimenting and finding a new combination to add to our usual list. 

Our nights are filled with fabulous food at our favorite restaurants. Some well-known and some out-of-the-way lucky accidents. Whatever the case, we are extremely full and satisfied after each trip. 

Nothing earth shaking happens over this week. 

Nothing besides what we know and love. 

It's our most cherished time of the year. 

However, this will be the last year our six will be going together. At least for a while. 

We know this for certain. 

Braxton will leave for Macedonia in September. His Peace Corps commitment will keep him overseas for 27 months. 

I realize how blessed we are to have the years we've had together. Vacations are a luxury and we know it. The time spent with one another is priceless. 

So, this year will be earth shaking because we'll all know how special these days are because they are numbered. 

Ed and I have always hoped our summer vacations will continue to include our four kids and, when and if the time is right, their future families. Long after we're gone, we pray the kids will continue this tradition of spending an entire week, uninterrupted, with those they love most in this world. 

So, the battered suburban will head out soon. As loaded down and as crowded as usual. 

I know, that as I look around from the front seat beside Ed, I'll see the five people who are my everything. 

Traditions continue. 

Bonds tighten. 

Love grows. 

It's our most cherished time of the year. 

It is what it is. 

p

 

 

When It's Hard To Breathe...

Some days, it's hard to breathe. 

Doesn't have to be anything monumental that happens. Sometimes it is. But not always. 

Today was one of those days for me. 

It started normally. 

It's ending with me sitting in my car beside my mom's grave. The gnats got so bad that I had to take cover in here to finish this blog. 

After work, I found myself tired but nothing else seemed out of the ordinary. It was a beautiful day outside and the kids at work were as cute as ever. 

But my emotions were set off by simple interactions once I was home. I could feel anger and frustration building. Not quite sure why. These things don't always make sense. They just hit you. 

I tend to share my feelings a lot. 

A lot. 

To my family and to my friends. 

It's never a surprise where I stand. 

Yet, even though I'm a very verbal person by nature...I'm also a very private person by circumstance. 

Few know my deepest thoughts. 

Too painful to share. 

Easier to keep safely tucked away. 

Tonight, I blew. 

Had to get out of the house. Had to come to the one peaceful, solitary place I find comfort. 

To see my mom. 

I sat on an old t-shirt I found in the back of the suburban.  Laid it on the grass. Plopped right in front of her headstone. 

Her grave is right on a corner of Ebenezer Cemetery and several vehicles drove by. They must have thought I was crazy. 

But, still I sat. Playing some music on my phone and talking to mom. Trying to get perspective on whatever had overtaken me earlier. 

She always had a way of helping me through issues. That hasn't changed. 

The sun's going down. I know Ed will wonder when I'm coming home. 

Time to go. 

She's done it again. I feel more centered, peaceful, and calm. 

Thank God for the places we can go...where we can let it all out when it's hard to breathe. 

My mom is that place for me. 

I talked. 

She listened. 

I took a deep breath. 

I let it out. 

I can breathe again. 

Until next time, Momma. 

It is what it is. 

p

'We may go, but our hearts stay home...'

Mother's Day has come and gone. Ed, Braxton, and I went to Champaign, since three of our kids were there finishing finals, and had a wonderful day. 

This weekend, the kids were all back home. It's been awhile since they've been here together. 

As we were sitting out on the patio Friday night, they brought out a large, thin box and told me they had a present for me for Mother's Day. 

Of course, I hadn't been expecting anything. We'd already celebrated. But, I have to admit I was really excited to see what could be inside. 

It became obvious that this was a picture, of some sort, fairly quickly, because of the size and shape of the box. Although, I could never have possibly guessed what the picture was. 

I finished opening the box and saw a large world map. 

In the bottom right corner, on a gold placard, is the quote: 'We may go, but our hearts stay home.' 

Of course, I felt tears well up in my eyes almost immediately.

As the kids explained the meaning of this world map, the tears streamed slowly down my face. 

They told me that this picture is actually a push-pin picture which allows you to place a push-pin for each place you've traveled. A visual record, of sorts. 

They went on to say we'll have push-pins for each of us, six colors, and we can place one in parts of the world we've already been...and places we will soon be. 

With our children soon going to parts of the world without us, this gift has such tremendous meaning to me. 

I found Macedonia. 

Braxton will leave in September to make this tiny space on the map his new home for over two years. I know I'll look at that push-pin and think of him each time I do. Somehow, it will make me feel closer. 

Blaize will have a new home soon when he lands his first job. We don't know where that will be yet, but we know that a push-pin will mark that spot. 

A reminder of where another of my sons is living. 

Somewhere far away from me.

From us. 

But their hearts will be home. 

We will mark the places Ed went on his childhood vacations and ones where I went with my parents and brother. 

We'll add our honeymoon and our annual Stewart Family vacations. 

The boys can add their Spring Break trips from the past couple of years. 

Italy will hold two push-pins signifying when Blaize and Brody went with the Alfano's several years ago. 

A family travel history within one beautiful cherry-wood-framed world map. 

I've already hung it. 

It's at the top of the stairs so you can see it as soon as you come in the front door. 

I'll pass by it several times a day. 

I already know I'll show my family and friends with pride. 

I am sure that, sometimes, when I look at this, I'll be overcome with sadness confronted with the reality of the distance between us...oceans apart...but I am also sure that I will remember that even though the kids may be physically far...their hearts are here, with me. 

I pray we have many years ahead to add more push-pins to this map. 

I want the kids to spread their wings. 

To go follow their dreams wherever they may take them. 

To go places Ed and I may never see and come back to share stories of their adventures. 

To immerse themselves into different cultures and meet people with a different way of life. 

To realize that the world is such a big, beautiful place. 

And. 

Then. 

I want them to come back home, again, before they add another push-pin. 

My heart is full. 

I can thank my children for that. 

I've done my part as a mom and now they are close to striking out on their own path. 

'We may go, but our hearts stay home.'

Who would have thought a world map, dotted with multi-colored push-pins, would become one of my most prized possessions? 

No matter who travels where...I already know where my favorite cluster of push-pins will be...Illinois.

South Jacksonville. 

The place all six of us will always call home. 

The place where our hearts stay. 

It is what it is. 

p

 

 

Embracing Estrangement...

I found myself, at age 37, with no parents. 

Our four children suddenly had no maternal grandparents. 

A jolt to say the least. 

My mom's death, from pancreatic cancer, changed much more than I could have ever anticipated or imagined. 

Losing one parent by circumstance is hard enough. Losing the other, by choice, is another. 

I had a wonderful childhood. Some would call it idyllic. For the most part, it was. 

I was raised to be a strong, independent person. I was encouraged to fight for the underdog. I was told to try to be kind and understanding. I felt empowered to question when the situation was warranted. 

It was that very questioning which caused the estrangement that is now a part of my life. Questioning created a rift and a split from all I had known. 

It's been nearly 14 years now. My life has taken different twists and turns. Many of those would have been a time, in the past, that I would have called my mom or my dad for advice...or just to talk something through. 

I don't feel sorry for myself. 

Simply surprised that this is what happened to my family. I would have never believed it if someone had told me. 

Estrangement from a parent is perhaps as equally as devastating as losing a parent to cancer. 

One left by no fault of her own. 

The other left of his own volition. 

Both are losses, in my mind.

But, after all these years, I look back and see the beauty of my childhood and I hold on to that. 

I thank God for my husband. I thank God for our four children. People remark, from time to time, how close the six of us are. While I have no doubt we would have been close regardless...I can't help but wonder if our unusual bond is due to the fact we have relied so heavily on each other because of our circumstances. 

I don't really care. I only know I am eternally grateful for these five people who know the real me. They love me, even when they'd like to strangle me, and they are here for me...unconditionally. 

Together, we've learned that life isn't easy and it isn't always perfect. It throws you curves and the unexpected heartache. 

But more than that, life is wonderful. The negatives have a way of bringing you positives. Sometimes, you just have to look in places you've haven't looked before. But, somewhere, there's a positive. 

I can't talk to either of my parents anymore. 

They are both beyond my reach. 

I like to think that they brought me to a certain point in my life and I took it from there. 

I love my parents for loving me. For making me that strong, independent person who fights for the underdog and tries to be kind as well as understanding. 

And for teaching me to question. 

It cost me dearly...an estrangement from my dad. But, it happened the way it was supposed to happen. I honestly don't regret my actions and I wouldn't change a thing on my part. 

I have told our four children that this estrangement has made me firm in my belief that there is nothing they could do or say to me which would cause me to cut them, nor the grandchildren I hope to one day have, off from my life. 

Nothing. 

I guess we learn from our parents. 

I have certainly learned from mine. 

My family of six is bound tightly. 

Completely. 

Unconditionally. 

Eternally. 

Death of one parent and estrangement of the other has taught me the importance of that bond. 

It is what it is. 

p

 

Mom's Weekend...

Sometimes I'm amazed how quickly my life has gone by. 

So much of my 20's were spent with our four babies and I was immersed in diapers and bottles with time for little else. 

Since each of their births, our kids have been the axis on which Ed and my world revolves. 

It's the way we wanted it. 

Early on, we made the decision that I would stay home and be with our kids-all four born within five years time-and Ed would be our soul financial provider. 

We sacrificed a lot in those days. Families do that when they live on one salary and are just starting out. 

We wouldn't have had it any other way. 

We were blessed that Ed's profession allowed us all we needed for our kids. Though he sometimes would travel, and be gone from Monday morning until Friday night, our kids knew where their Daddy was and our weekends were spent together...the six of us. 

Seeing the kids grow has been such a joy. When I look at them now, I'm still amazed they are all adults. 

It's been a long time since they've needed me to 'take care' of them but we are still as bonded as we were then. 

This weekend, at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, will be the last Mom's weekend I'll get to spend with all four of our kids. All three boys will be gone next year. Braxton will be in Macedonia serving in the Peace Corps, Blaize hopes to be in New York fulfilling his career goals in journalism, and Brody will have graduated and moved on, as well, into his new life. Only Bentley will still be there. From four...down to one. 

Each Spring, Ed and I go for Mom's weekend. I know he's not a Mom but I go for Dad's weekend with him...so we're even. We want to all be together as much as possible. 

The boys fraternity hosts a Mom's luncheon with flowers on the tables and delicious food. Bentley's sorority has a yummy brunch. Both houses have an auction of donated 'baskets' that mom's put together. I always enjoy picking out the perfect things for both the Alpha Sigs and the Chi Omegas. 

And...as with most college activities...there will be alcohol. Now, I'm not much of a drinker. Never have been. Our kids get their drinking gene from the Stewart side. 😉. 

But the Alpha Sigs have a vast selection of alcohol that I actually like and this is a weekend I do drink with our kids, their friends, and the other mom's and dads we've become close to over the years. 

I can't describe the feeling. 

Catching up with these families. Listening to the future plans of these amazing young adults. Sharing stories, sharing laughs, sharing this time in our lives...our kid's college experience has been a time I have enjoyed, immensely. 

Two years ago, the boys frat rented out the back room of a bar, named Joe's, for all of us mom's. 

I did something I had never done. 

As we were sipping some of the drink specials, I noticed the 'stripper poles' I'd heard the kids talk about. Lots of college kids were up there on the platform dancing by the poles. 

Then it hit me. I was going to surprise my kids and jump up on the platform. 

Yep, I was going up on that stripper pole!

Needless to say, all three boys joined me immediately. 

What a memorable night. 

It was out of my comfort zone.

Yes, I looked foolish. 

This picture is unflattering and embarrassing. 

But, who cares!

Life is about taking those crazy thoughts and going for it!

I didn't last long. Tired out quickly. But I was happy to see lots of mom's hop up on that platform after I got down. 

My relationship with our kids has changed over the years. 

But, these kids are my world. 

I would do anything to spend time with them...to enjoy the moments we have. 

Even get on a stripper pole. 

It is what it is. 

p

End Of Watch...

I met him last summer. 

I'd seen him driving thru our Village before that but wasn't introduced to him until I started volunteering with the South Jacksonville Celebration/Concert in the Cornfield in late June. 

Tall in stature, South Jacksonville Police Officer Scot Fitzgerald stood above the other officers and wore a ready smile. I easily remembered his name because it's the same as my brother. He had a personality that put you immediately at ease. 

There would be some nights, at Board meetings, when he would stop by. As he'd stand and talk with us, he'd stick his hands into the sides of his bullet-proof vest and rock, softly, from side to side. It was an endearing habit I came to associate with only him. I never notice another officer doing this. Just Scot.

The Saturday morning of our South Jacksonville Celebration Parade, Ed and I drove to a blocked-off side road to watch the entries go by. Officer Fitzgerald was at the end of that road, on duty, beyond the barricades. 

We walked to stand beside his SUV with him. His very-pregnant wife, Dani, was there and their adorable little boy was mesmerized by the sights of the parade and excited at the thought of catching candy to put in his bag. 

I'm not sure how it happened, but I started helping their son go out, bit by bit, into the road to pick up candy. We'd pick some up, put it in his bag, and then he'd run back to show his dad and mom. He had that look of wonderment that only children seem to express. 

I recognized Dani. Her little sister, Sami, had been on our two back-to-back Turner Junior High State Championship Volleyball teams. The Suttles family were permanent fixtures in the stands back in 2009 & 2010. It really is a small world. It was great to see Dani and the family she had made with Scot. 

We talked a few minutes about the baby. She was due soon and all three of them were excited to become a family of four. 

Our interaction that morning was probably no more than a half an hour at most. But, as we walked away, I remember telling Ed how nice it was to see a young family together. Reminded me of the parades we used to take our kids to see as they were growing up. Those times with our children, when they're young, are so precious. I envied them the time they were sharing because I missed it so much. 

I left thinking what a wonderful life they had. How lucky they were. 

Some months passed and I was at Walmart one day and saw the Fitzgerald's walking toward me. They had their new baby girl in the cart. Their son was happily walking alongside. 

We stopped and talked a few minutes. They introduced me to their daughter. I asked if their son had eaten all the parade candy yet and Scot laughed. He said he'd been eating it after the kids went to bed. 

Typical dad stuff. 

Heartwarming stuff. 

The stuff that makes you smile as you walk away. 

My interactions with Officer Fitzgerald were limited. But, in the little time I knew him, I figured out the type of person he was. Making people feel immediately comfortable in your presence isn't something we are all blessed with. Scot was. 

When I would see him, even if it was only to wave, I would feel warmly about this man who was an incredibly loving husband and devoted father and I would feel confident about this man who was serving our Village as a member of our police department. 

I last saw Scot on Tuesday when he stopped by our house to deliver my Board packet for a meeting this past Thursday. 

We talked for a few moments. He was always happy to chat. Then he was off to deliver the rest of the packets to the other Trustees. 

Normal, ordinary interaction. 

I had no idea it was the last time we would share that simple part of life. 

When I heard about the accident, all kinds of things ran thru my mind. 

In my lifetime, I've only been told of one other accident which involved someone I knew. It will soon be three years since Leo and Morgan were killed. 

While I didn't know Scot as well as Leo and Morgan, I can tell you the initial feeling is the same...no matter how close your relationship. 

The inmediacy of the helplessness that overcomes you. The realization that life has forever changed. It is there. Front and center. 

I've been praying. That's all you can do. 

Praying for Scot, for Dani, and for their precious children. 

Praying for both their families and all of their closest friends. 

For our South Jacksonville family...I pray for Officer Fitzgerald's brothers and sisters within the police department as well as in the fire department and the first responders...everyone involved with the Village. I've never seen a closer-knit group of people. 

This is, undeniably, an unspeakable tragedy. 

Whether we knew Officer Fitzgerald or not, he gave his life in the line of duty for all of us. 

The degrees of loss we feel will differ according to the impact he's had in our lives...the relationship he shared with us. 

But, the bottom line is, he made the ultimate sacrifice for our Village. 

We will never forget. 

We will be forever grateful. 

We will mourn this man, this officer, this example of what we all should strive to be. 

Thank you is not enough.

There are no words for a loss such as this. 

God Bless. 

It is what it is. 

p