I know it might seem to many that I've abandoned this blog but I have simply not felt like writing. But today, I do. Of course I miss you like crazy and I wish more than anything that the kids and I were driving to Gallatin today to spend your special day with you. We'd pick you up and take you to eat somewhere nice and then maybe we'd go do some shopping. The children would enjoy picking out a gift for you and you would simply enjoy them.
Oh, how you would enjoy them, Mama. Your grandson is going on 5 years old. He has a huge heart. He enjoys hosting gatherings of his friends, planning special days, and he thinks that I am the best thing on earth. He tells me all of the time that he misses you and while I wonder if he even remembers you in the least, I believe that he does miss you down in his heart. Because you are a presence that is forever removed and your being gone has left me forever changed. He is such a sweet boy and a delight to be around. I just know that he would be the light of your world.
And this little girl we have. Mama, she is something else. A real piece of work. She is strong-willed, loud, hilarious, and fascinating. She is my worst enemy and my very best friend all rolled into one. I never imagined that having a little girl would be so much fun. And while I feel she could easily beat the living day lights out of me, she could just as easily get dressed in a princess costume and have a tea party. She's going to be three soon and I feel that I'm just now getting to know her. Now that I'm out of that dark hole of despair.
I can't wait to meet this new baby. That's right. A new baby. Another boy. Our peaceful serene child who is going to sleep really well at night. Because we deserve one of those. I wish that you were here to welcome him into this world. It's been really painful to imagine having another child...one that doesn't know either of his grandparents... even a little bit.
I try my best to keep you alive. Your memory at least. The kids know what you liked and how you were so kind. I keep your senior picture in a frame on my desk. It is a constant reminder of your beauty and your kindness. There is a look of peace in your eyes in that picture... one that I only saw in person when you were on your death bed. That look helps me to not be scared of where I'm going one day. Because you already had one foot there and it must have been glorious.
Things are hard right now. It seems that after you died, things started to go down hill and we are still trying to get our feet planted firmly on the ground again. I know that ultimately our every need will be provided but I'm having to learn to truly do without for the first time in my life. I never realized until recently just how spoiled I truly was. But I never really had to want for anything. Now I want for so much that my head swims. Worst, I want for things for my children. To worry about needing a bed for a child is foreign to me. This type of want has helped me to put things into perspective though. I now realize that a child can sleep on the floor or on the couch... there is no rule saying that they have to be in a bed. More specifically, their own bed!
I feel proud of what we have here. I am proud of our children. I am proud of homeschooling. I'm proud of running a non-profit organization that I created from scratch. And I feel proud of how I relied on God to pull me out of a hell that I cannot even describe with words. Mostly I am proud of my marriage and how my relationship with my husband has improved dramatically and I feel secure in knowing that he is not going anywhere. Took me nearly ten years to get there, but finally I believe it.
Mama, I hope that the angels are throwing you a big gigantic birthday party right now. I hope that you are sitting on that Appalachian front porch, alternating between playing a jug and dancin' a jig. And you have thick, glorious long hair and you are wearing a long patchwork skirt. And maybe I'll be there to celebrate your 100th birthday with you.