One Ring to Make them Cry....

tal·is·man 
ˈtaləsmən,ˈtalizmən

noun

an object, typically an inscribed ring or stone, that is thought to have magic powers and to bring good luck.



When my dad died my mother wanted each of us, kids, grandkids, kid-in-laws, to have something of his. She took us in to their room one by one trying to go from oldest to youngest though there was a little skipping of the line in there...

When she brought me in she asked what I wanted. I didn't hesitate for a second. His ring. She knew which one I meant, it was THE ring. But it was lost. She couldn't find it anywhere hadn't seen it in ages. I took a belt buckle instead. But it wasn't the ring. Though when I mentioned it in front of my other siblings my oldest brother said, "Oh yeah, I would like to have that too." So even if it were to be found I wasn't getting my father's ring. Which made me cry. Though to be fair everything made me cry that weekend. You tend to do that when your dad dies.

Fast forward about 3 years. Talking to my mother on the phone and she says she's got a package she had wanted to send to me. She found my dad's ring. And just as I got excited she said, "But I lost it." It was there. I almost had it. (not sure why me and not my brother, but my guess is because it's all I wanted and he had other things) But it was gone again. And I cried again. Not because of not getting the ring, just from thinking about my dad. I still do that sometimes.

My dad wasn't a real big guy. Somewhere around 5'9" and 5'10" but he was solid. Not fat at all but thickly built. (now you all know why I struggle with weight, I always weigh more than you would think, I'm freaking solid as all get out) As much as I loved my dad I never held hands with him. Ever. I held fingers. Even by the time I was a teenager my hands were too small to really hold his. I would wrap my fingers around his thumb or his ring finger and that's how I held hands with my dad. Most girls have their fathers wrapped around their fingers, my father had me wrapped around his.

And when I think of that, when I think of holding my dad's finger, I think of the ring. He had the ring and a matching watch for as long as I can remember. They were as much a part of him as cowboy boots and hats. Big solid turquoise and silver pieces. It lent a lot to how often he was mistaken for Native American, I think. It just fit him. But when I think of my father's hands, I think of thick, solid, hands. I think of calluses and grease stains from working on the car, I think of tan lines around his watch band and I think of that ring. It's larger than life. It's part of my dad. I loved it. And it was gone.

So sitting in my mother's house a few weeks ago and she brings me out a box with some things she has for me. There is a necklace. There is a bracelet that is supposed to go with the necklace. She had given my sisters each one just like it but with different stones. Mine were rubies because I love rubies. And there was a ring box which I had to assume was a ring that matched the necklace and bracelet.

It wasn't.

I cried. Instant and straight to ugly. My father's ring. My mother was telling me it needed cleaned and repaired and the stone is cracked, that always seems to happen with turquoise and I could probably get that fixed as well as some of the silver work that has been broken off and...And I just cried. It's perfect. I don't want it cleaned. I don't want it fixed. The crack in the stone has been there so long I'm not sure I would have recognized it whole. 

I took a picture and posted it online and talked about crying over it. I took it out in the hotel room just to hold it over and over again. Still not sure it was real, I guess. And now I have it sitting next to my computer in the office. I pull it out of the box and hold it. One of these days I will be able to do that without crying. Today is not that day. 

It's heavy. This is not a dainty ring.

My finger swimming in the ring. 

Not even on my thumb.

It's big. But it's bigger than that.

It's pretty much everything.

Dirty, worn, broken but still whole. It's had a hard life. And it's beautiful. And perfect. And I can wrap my fingers around it and hold it close.

It's as much of a piece of my father as I could ever hope to have again.

It's everything.

It's all still relative...

Called my mom for her birthday today. Eighty three years old. Happy 83rd birthday to my mother. Conversations with her have always been interesting and as she's aged they are sometimes really entertaining...

What did we talk about? The prison break in New York. She's just glad that C has graduated and is not up in Vermont anymore because they might be hiding out there. She also is pretty sure it goes much deeper than just the one woman helping them. Cutting through a steel wall is noisy. How did no one hear them? I happen to agree with her. I did think for a minute when they talked about Vermont that I was glad C wasn't there (though even if he was still in school he would have been home on break, and he didn't spend a lot of time just traipsing through heavily wooded areas where criminals might be hiding, but I still thought it) and I cannot believe that they cut through steel walls and steam pipes without anyone hearing them. Crazy.

Her new phone. She had stopped answering her old phone. The only way you could get in touch with her was to text my sister and wait for a call back. It was odd. My sister had said she got mad at her phone and was done with it. Oooookay. Not the weirdest thing my mother would have ever done, but still odd. So anyway yesterday we all get a text with a new phone number for Mom so ta da new phone. Come to find out she didn't get mad at her phone she got mad at the shitty customer service at Verizon. When Dad died she and my brother took in his death certificate to get his contract cancelled. They tried to charge her $250 for an early termination fee. Let that little piece of fuckery settle in a bit. So when they were impressed upon that that was not going to happen they got the extra line removed and Mom listed as the primary. Which stuck for about a year and then they put Dad back on it and started raising her bill every few months. She went from a $30 phone bill up to an $80. And when she would try to cancel they wouldn't let her. Finally she got it cancelled and ordered a new phone from AARP. It's just a phone, she doesn't do anything but talk on it, which is SO weird, that's like the last thing I do with a phone...but anyway. She didn't get mad at her phone, she got mad at Verizon. Which I totally get. I left them a few years ago because they were horrible at customer service.

We talked about the family dinner last night. She's concerned about my aunt and uncle driving across country this summer. She doesn't think they should be driving that far. But she's not sure she should call their son and have him talk to them. She knows it would piss of my uncle but she also knows she would feel lousy if something happened to them and she didn't say anything. I told her it was a hard call to make. When do you tell someone it's time to give up the car keys? Which she then told me she only drives a very little now, and only on back streets, and very carefully. I guess she was worried I might reach through the phone and snatch hers away.

While we were talking about my uncle's balance she mentioned hers is not so good all the time. She said she does okay in the house because they have so much stuff there is always something to grab to steady herself. When she goes to the grocery store they always park close and she gets a cart to steady herself. I suggested one of those little push cart type things that are part walker, part place to sit to rest which led to the following exchange:

"We have two of those, we have a big one and a little one and a wheelchair."

"Oh, okay."

"Marshall uses them. Well he used them."

"He doesn't really use them anymore."

"No, he gets around just fine now."
And we both laughed...

Because why wouldn't you joke with your mother about your dead dad on the anniversary of his death?

Then because we were on the subject of health and death we talked about her new chemo treatments. She is doing well on them, she has another scan at the end of this month so she will be interested to see how everything looks. Though she thinks she should have just come with a zipper since they have to look at her insides so often...I've often thought it would be nice to have a seam so I could adjust my weight easier.

One of the nurses she sees often (she gets an infusion once a month) recently lost a family member and Mom talked to her about it and about how she (Mom) knows that her time could come at any point now. The nurse said she (Mom) seemed to have a really good attitude about it. Mom said she told her that of course she did, she knows exactly where she is going so why wouldn't she?

Which made me smile. Because for her it's true. She believes that eventually God will say, "Ruby?" and she will "go home" and she will see Dad again. And be reunited with the three children they lost and other family and friends that are just waiting for her. So she's really calm about the whole thing. I'm also really nonchalant about the thought of dying. But for different reasons. There was a point before I was born where I wasn't. I just wasn't. There was no me. And that doesn't bother me. Or scare me. Why should I be bothered or scared of the opposite end? There will be a point where I stop. Where there will be no me. And to be scared of the after would mean that I should have been scared of the before, and well, I wasn't. So when it happens it will happen and life for everyone else will go on. And if I've done a good job with my life part of me will stay with them. Which is all you can ask for.

And then she needed to go run errands. I told her to have fun and she laughed, "It's a thrill a minute!" Which is totally something I say to Brent when I tell him about the exciting trip to Target I took.

So to recap I talked to my crazy mother today and got her wacky take on the world and we agreed on the prison break, Verizon phone service, inappropriate humor and dying...

So....yeah....

Empaths are complicated...

While we were back in Michigan this weekend we got to be part of a big family announcement. Non-baby related. That was important to get out since the announcement was from Curt and Rachel and they are at that stage of just past newly married where people are constantly asking about babies...

Anyway...Curtis has been in school for the past few years getting his degree in (and I have no idea what it's really called so I am making up the degree but you will understand what it is by the words I use) Anesthesia Nurse Practitioner. He finishes in December so really close now. What it means is that for the past few years instead of making his normal salary as a nurse he has been back in school. And Rachel was finishing school as well. And working. Basically newly wed completely broke stage of life. So now he's graduating and...Ta Da! He already has a job offer! It's very exciting and fabulous and it's 3 1/2 hours away from Kalamazoo.

Which as you all know, is how far away Bend is from Portland so...

Well at dinner when the announcement was made Kim got teary eyed. Rachel worried. Curt worried. Moving that far from mom is an issue. Kim kept saying it wasn't that she was upset they were moving, it was that she was proud of Curtis. Which is true. And a lie. She is upset they are moving. And proud as well. She was both. We all knew it. Hell, I've lived it. I know exactly that feeling of "Yes! You did it! Fabulous!" that is right away mixed with "No! You are supposed to stay here!"

But then it led to a discussion on being an easy cry.

Rachel admitted she would cry as a kid when other kids got in trouble. It just bothered her so much. Empathetic. You all know I cannot be yelled at. It makes me cry. And I cry when I get angry. And I cry at Kleenex commercials. And books. And movies. And bad temper days. And a really beautiful sunset....

So yeah, we are all easy touches.

Which then Dave (Kim's husband) and Brent were both like "It's AWFUL!" because it is. It's unfair in a fight. If you are in an argument with your spouse and your burst out in to tears they just want you to stop. You (or at least I) still want to resolve the argument, you cannot stop the tears but you want them to ignore them so you can still carry on. But you are crying so they won't. Ugh.

And then for Brent it's even more baffling to him. He does not understand that crying is just something I have accepted. I wish that I didn't cry when I was mad, but that's the only time it bothers me. I'm okay crying at a book, or a movie, or a Facebook post, or getting misty because I understand how Kim is torn between pride in her babies growing up and sadness that they are growing up.

In fact, I think a good cry every once in awhile is completely cathartic. Watching a movie or reading a book that just wrecks me? I might complain a little, but I feel better afterwards. It's like there is just a build up of emotion that needs out. Like a pressure cooker. And releasing it through something that doesn't really matter keeps it from becoming too overwhelming in the things that do.

Because I am strongly empathetic. I totally get why Rachel would get upset when other kids in school would get in trouble. I have a really hard time not feeling all the feels when I hear someone's sad story. I get it. I get them. I feel it. And I cry about it sometimes. And I don't want to change that about me. Because I feel things very deeply I feel things very deeply. Circular, I know. But if I didn't feel things the way I do. If I didn't see the world through that lens I wouldn't be me. And I really dig me.

And I know that my empathy is a big part in how I relate to everyone. I have friends with different world views, I like hearing about them and I can usually understand where they are coming from in an argument. Empathy. The blog I wrote earlier today about taking a moment to be helpful to people. I get what it's like to be that mom with the car seat struggling to get through a door. So I stop and help. Empathy. Watching the world around you and getting more and more frustrated and heartsick that you can't change everything? That's empathy as well.

So yeah, being empathetic is tough sometimes. Right now I feel super proud of Curtis and Rachel and excited for them to be starting this new chapter in their lives. And I feel a little heartache for Kim. Knowing that she wishes them nothing but success and happiness but wishes it was a little closer to home. Trust me, I totally get that part, but 3 1/2 hours is totally doable.

And I completely understand that being sad doesn't mean you aren't happy.

He learned it by watching you...

Okay, so I've sat for a week trying to find other things to write about but the two moody pieces are going to happen first and I just have to deal with that.

I mean really deal with it. I've been avoiding writing them because I haven't wanted to deal with all of the emotions around them. Trying to convey what I'm feeling in a blog can be tricky. Sometimes I'm just sharing or trying to get something off my chest and it ends up sounding whiny. I am rarely whiny. And when I am I will tell you, "I'm whiny." But in reading things sometimes it's hard to get the tone from it that I was trying to convey. So anyway, these next two blogs are not whiny. But they are emotional. Or they were, I'm better now. Really.

Okay, so as you all know C broke his ankle a couple of weeks ago. And you all also know that he didn't want me to come to Burlington and that I was not happy with his choice. I respected his decision and did not go, but I wasn't happy about it. This is the story of everything around that.

When I first told everyone about his ankle and the fact that he didn't want me there and how torn I was a friend of mine sent me a message telling me that "no one would judge me for not going." I had to raise my eyebrows at this one. I know he was being supportive, not only of my choice not to go but of C's decision not to have me there, however, he's been my friend long enough that he should know the exact number of fucks I give about what anyone else thinks of my parenting choices.

Zero. That would be zero fucks given.

I might question my own parenting choices, I might have a few regrets in things I would have done differently, I might be completely unconventional in a lot of ways, but the only person who gets to openly challenge my parenting and have me actually care is C's father. That's it. I think more people should parent that way instead of by committee. We get so worried about what other people think of us and our decisions that we stop actually thinking about why we make the choices we do. And I know my friend knows this. And like I said, I know he was just being supportive and phrased it in a way that I raised my eyebrows at. Not only because of the zero fucks but because he was high and delirious to think I wouldn't be judged by my choice.

Of course I was judged. Moms are always judged. Work outside the home, stay at home with your kids, breastfeed, stop breastfeeding, solid food, homemade baby food, brands of clothing, lessons, school choices...on and on and on. Dads get it to a certain extent but I've never heard the phrase "daddy wars" have you? So of course I was judged. Sometimes it was really subtle, "Oh I would have been there within a day! You are so strong." sometimes it was overt, "I can't believe you aren't going. He is your CHILD." I just kept repeating to myself that this is what C wanted and that he would be fine. And talking to Brent about it and getting reassurances from him that this was the right call to make.

That doesn't mean I ever got comfortable with the choice. In fact I had a few moments of crisis around it. One happened in Hawaii. See, part of not ever getting comfortable with the choice was a daily check in with C to make sure he was okay. And to reinforce with him that I could still be there by the time he had his surgery. We got home from Hawaii on Friday I could be on a plane Saturday and there with time to spare for his Monday check in. Finally he told me "I got this."

I had to turn to Brent and ask, "Is it as frustrating to hear from me as it is from him?" Because see, that's what I say. "I got this." It's my back off warning. I can handle "it" whatever "it" is and until I tell you I can't then back up and give me room.

And that caused a little moment of crisis for me.

I didn't turn to my parents for much when I was growing up because it never crossed my mind to do so. I've talked about how I got there in earlier blogs, so I'm not going to rehash things, but I just didn't depend on my parents by the time I was in high school. I think this was shocking for them at times, by the time they had the energy to focus on just me and help me out I didn't want it. I didn't have room for it and I never thought to ask for it. When Brent and I decided to get married I can remember telling my parents. I walked down the hall to their bedroom knocked on the door went in and announced it. We were getting married in December, Brent was joining the Navy and would be leaving in January for basic training and I would be joining him when that was over. I didn't ask their opinion or their permission. I just told them what I was doing. I was 17.

So to hear "I got this" directed at me gave me a little moment of doubt. Just a moment. I talked myself back from the ledge of "He thinks we aren't there for him!" to "He is confident he can handle this because we HAVE been there for him." But it was still a moment where all of the mistakes you made as a parent come rushing back, and what if this is another one? What if I really need to be there and I am not there? But I had to trust that he meant it.

Now I have to clarify a little here. If he were 16 and away from home for something he wouldn't have had the choice. Even his freshman year in college I'm not sure I would have let him dictate if we came out or not. But now? He is 21, he's been living on his own for the majority of the year for the past 4 years. He has his own social support network. If he says he's got this he probably really does. And the only way he's going to know if he does or doesn't is to try.

So I didn't go.

Monday came time for the surgery and he left word to have the hospital call when he got out. I'm not going to lie; when the nurse called to give me the update and then put C on the phone and he was groggy and doped to the gills (but still coherent enough to warn me he might not be coherent) I cried. The relief was like a wash over me. I still wanted to be there, but he was fine and so I would be as well.

Then Tuesday hit. Talking to C via text while waiting for service on the car he tells me he doesn't think he will come home for Spring Break. Multi-level house and crutches are not the best mix. I had been holding on to the "Just a few weeks and I will see him and touch him and fuss over him and make sure he is fine" very tightly. Even knowing there was a shot he wouldn't come I had convinced myself that he would. So I broke down in tears in the waiting room of the dealership. Quiet ones, not the big ugly cry, but I still couldn't stop. Then the phone rang and it was another nurse from the hospital. She had seen the note to "Please call my mother with updates" and wanted to make sure someone had called me because she was a mother as well and knew she would want them.

And then...

"So you aren't coming at all?" No, not at all. He wants to handle this on his own and as he is an adult we need to respect his judgement and trust we've raised him to be independent and competent.

"He says he's been using cabs as well as friends for rides. He says he has money but I just wanted to make sure you were aware." Yes, he has money. I sent him extra money. In fact I'm the one who reminded him he could use cabs to get around if he needed to when friends weren't available. Trust me I'm in touch with him.

"He's been really great, but groggy. Hopefully he will be fine when he's on his own. Though the weather is such a mess I'm not sure you could make it anyway." Well he is going back to an apartment he shares with three other people so he won't really be on his own, but yes I hope he handles the transition well. (I didn't say anything about the not so subtle dig that I should still be headed out there, though she was right, the storms that weekend had caused huge travel snarls so even if I had disregarded his choice and gone there is no telling if I would have made it and depending on what cars were left to rent if I would have been any sort of help at all anyway)

"I have to say I hope my 16 year old turns out to be as pleasant and as thoughtful as C is at 21." Well, to have them turn out that way you need to be as lousy of a mom as you seem to think I am so good luck with that...(okay I didn't say that, but I was thinking it by then)

The rest of Tuesday passed with me in about the foulest mood I've been in in years. One of those that is so dark people walk in a wide circle around you as they see you coming. You are just radiating "Don't fuck with me today" vibes. When Brent got in the car after work he said, "Not a good day I take it?" before I even said a word. And as I told him about the day the tears kept coming back. I ignored them because they were pissing me off, and he ignored them because he didn't want to get in the line of my pissedoffness. But they were there.

Then C changed his mind and decided that he would come home after all. Once he was inside the house he can live on the main floor so really it's just negotiating a few stairs in front and he thinks it will be fine. I was relieved but it still took another few hours for the dark cloud to lift. We had chocolate ice cream at the hockey game and that helped.

So is it has been really challenging.

Not for me, for him.

I've had to deal with some self doubt and the typical parenting response of wanting to do everything for your child even when you know that's a bad idea.

He's trying to learn how to negotiate the terrain with crutches and a wheel chair. He's learning just how non-ADA places that say they are ADA really are. He's trying to keep up with school work and lab hours and not go out of his skull with cabin fever. He's had to deal with an overbearing mother on an almost daily basis. He's had his first broken bone, his first set of extreme drugs, his first surgery all in the span of two weeks. And he's done fine.

It's not been easy, I'm sure there have been a lot of times he's been super frustrated and maybe even a few times he's thought it would have been easier to have me there (Hey! It could have happened) but the bottom line is he has handled it. Not because he thought we wouldn't be there for him but because we raised him to know he didn't need us to be.

He's got this.

Breakfast conversations...

This morning at breakfast I had to put my fork down and take out my phone to write a quick note. Brent asked if I was okay and I said (very quietly) "Just needed to make a note for my blog." He nodded and said, "Wealth of material right?"

See we went to Arleta Bakery Cafe this morning and it's a very small restaurant. Only about 7 tables in the place and they are very close to each other. The couple who pretty much sat with us (a mother and son, not couple like married or dating) talked. A lot. And it was all just so, well, just so...

There was the point where son told mom very excitedly about talking to his Anatomy and Physiology professor about options for a Phd. program and the interest this instructor has been showing him and his academic and future professional goals. Great right? Well mom followed this very quickly with telling him to go back to his professor and ask for her. Because she wants to do the SAME thing! Isn't that exciting? And fabulous? And...shhh...Mom..shh...don't make him lie to you about talking to his instructor on your behalf. This really isn't about you...

Then there was when he told her about having it pointed out to him that women are socialized differently than men. See in class if a female student walks in late, or asks a question or joins a conversation she apologizes first. Whereas the males just talk. This is an actual phenomenon that is super interesting to behold and he then said, "So now when I'm talking to a girl and she apologizes I tell her not to." Which mom then said, "Well, I see the point but it's not up to you to tell her how to behave, right? Isn't that the same thing she's been socialized in, in the first place? Apologizing for being who she is? Maybe instead of telling her not to you should ask her why she does. She might not even be aware, because the apology isn't an admission of wrong doing, it's a female verbal tic." Which led to an insightful discussion on....nah...I'm just kidding with you. What she did was list a whole bunch of slights that women get, such as going in to sit by themselves in a restaurant and having the greeter say, "Only one?" where they never say that to a single man, or to a couple, "Only two?"

Which is complete bullshit. First off, as a woman you have no idea what a server says to a man. You just don't. But I can tell you as part of a couple we get hit with, "Just the two of you?" all the time. It's not a condemnation that we should be part of a bigger group, it's a clarification that we don't need a bigger table. And Brent did say on the way home that when he travels and eats solo he gets the "Only one?" all the time. See, as a man in that situation he knows what men get asked. There are real, actual, differences in the way men and women are treated and her early 20s son just now seeing them and reacting to them is a perfect opportunity to instill change, but not if you just rail against the world instead of opening a further discussion.

There was the stretch where I felt sad for her. They were talking about Crater Lake and the son was going to go this summer with a friend camping there and she volunteered to go with them as a tour guide. Watching his reaction to that suggestion she back peddled, "you know, only if you want me to, but you don't have to, that's fine." I feel her sting there. Kids and wanting to be adults away from their parents...the nerve.

But she lost me as she started to bash her ex. Oh please, people, if you split up from your partner and you share children don't do this. Please. If your ex really is a piece of shit, trust me, your kids know. They don't need you to drag them in to the petty grievances. Just remember that the person you are talking to is half you and half that piece of shit. That's what you are telling them. You know the half that is like your dad? Or the times you act like your father? Well I think he's a piece of shit so take that with you. Just keep the kids (even if they are grown) out of it. The problems you have in your personal relationships aren't theirs. They are yours. So hush.

And then there was the line that made me pull out my phone. Because it was too beautiful to miss.

Son is telling mom about girlfriend and if they are going to buy a house. He doesn't think so because her credit is even worse than his. He's tried to give her some tips but...and here mom said, "well you can try and help someone by showing them how to be logical and reasonable.." and son came in..."yeah but she's..." and mom and son together..."yes, she's a Scorpio."

So there you have it. You can try to help someone be logical and reasonable but...Scorpio.

Thems the breaks...

We really need to work on transporter technology. I have errands I need to do and I'm stuck in the house. Have been for days. It would be so much easier if I could just get in a little personal sized transporter, beam out to where I need to go, and beam back. Of course during the winter it might be a little crowded. You would have to wait for your specific window to go just to ensure you didn't end up mixed in someone else. But I think it would be super useful.

That's what I was thinking yesterday when I got the text "I'm in the hospital...." C fell on the ice (stupid winter) and broke his ankle. It's sort of amazing to me that some of the phrases we use without thinking about them actually happen. "I'm just sick" really happens. The bottom dropped out of my stomach, the blood left my face.  And I wanted to be there. Right then. That transporter technology suddenly seemed like less of a pipe dream and more of a NEED THIS. I texted back and forth with him, not a lot of details, he fell, sure it was broken, at the ER, was alone (!) but people knew he was there and would come get him when he was ready to go home...Then the big bomb; surgery sooner rather than later. As soon as the swelling goes down. Probably 7-10 days. I asked if they had a good estimate because I need to make a plane reservation. Started thinking, well, 7-10 days so fly out Saturday on the red-eye assume he will probably have surgery Sunday or Monday, stay until Wednesday and...

And he told me no.

Wait, what? There is no "no" here. There is only I will be there. So then Brent put it in perspective, what would I have said to my mom at 21 about coming out for a broken ankle? I told him that wasn't the point. But it is. Completely. C is a grown up. He's a really good grown up as well. Funny, bright, considerate, all of the things you hope for as a parent. And independent. Which is a great personality trait. Until he gets independent from me right when I feel the strongest need to go right back to being MOM.

I'm not going to lie; there is a big part of me that wants to ignore him and go anyway. But that's not fair to him. He wants to handle this on his own, not have me come in. And really what would I do? Sit and wait while he had surgery, which is more for me than him, make him come back to the hotel with me for a day at least instead of going back to his apartment, which again, more for me than him. It might make it easier for him to have me there to do everything I can for him, but that's not really my job as a parent. To make things easy. It never has been. My job was to give him the skills to take care of things. And to remind him that one of the ways to take care of things is to ask for help when you need it. And to trust that if he decides he really does need me there he will ask. And to hide the credit card so I don't buy a ticket anyway...

So anyway, I am now looking at our trip to Hawaii again. Which I have to tell you I am less excited for than I was. Hard to set aside the worry. No matter how many times C says "Don't worry." But I'm sure once we are there and in the sun and busy and checking in daily with C I will be fine.

We leave tomorrow, the weather is supposed to break so hopefully the trip to the airport and the flight will happen as scheduled and the house/cat sitters will be here with no issues. Everyone will get where they need to get. But wouldn't it all be so much easier if we just had a transporter to use?

I hear voices...

A few weeks ago I had a dream where I got a new tattoo on the inside of my wrist. The tattoo was a  red gem stone wearing a cowboy hat. A ruby for my mother, Ruby, and the hat symbolizing my father, Marshall. I told Brent about it when I woke up and he said it actually sounded like a cool tattoo for me. Probably not on the inside of my wrist, but yeah, it wouldn't be bad. Having both parents represented like that and tied together as they are in my mind. Even with my Dad having passed I still think of him and Mom as a matched set.

Not an exact set, oh no. Very different people, but a matched set. They worked well together.

I've been channeling both parents the past few weeks at different times. I have to admit I am more comfortable living in my father's shoes than my mother's. Maybe because he always wore boots?

Anyway...with the trip to Hawaii coming they have both played their part in my mind. Hawaii was always my mother's dream. We heard about it all the time growing up. How she and Dad were going to go one day. It was the dream vacation. You all also know we were broke so that dream wasn't really in reach. Vacations were trips back to Iowa to visit family. Twice to Anaheim to Disneyland when the North American Christian Convention was held there. But never just straight up vacations. And Hawaii? Out of reach.

For their 50th Anniversary the kids all got together and sent them. We all pitched in what we could and got them their dream trip. And I'm glad we were able to do it. Dad's health was still good enough at the time that they were able to enjoy the vacation and check that box. But notice I said it was always my mother's dream? I have no idea what my father's dream vacation would be. He never really said. My guess is it was Hawaii, not because he had a burning desire to go there but because he had a burning desire to make my mother happy.

My dad was one of those quiet types. He believed what he believed but he didn't feel the need to force it down your throat. He was conservative. Religious. Thrifty. Solidly a family man. My mother is conservative, and will tell you about it. Religious and will pray for you. Solidly a family woman. And well...not so much on the thrifty side.

We all grew up knowing we had a predisposition for alcoholism. My mother was on the leading edge of people who truly believe it is a disease and hereditary. Pretty amazing actually, because the science backs her up now. But she always knew it. But the thing she didn't warn us about was the shopping gene. Especially "As Seen on TV" or the home shopping/QVC/infomercial strain... Seriously. That woman can buy anything off of TV and frequently does. I have a strain of it, the exercise and kitchen gadget portion. I know I have this problem so don't keep my credit card handy when watching TV. Other members of my family have it (not naming any names, they know who they are) and will buy cute bags or shoes or sparkly whatever...

So the past few weeks as I've been getting ready for our upcoming trip to Hawaii I've been shopping. I needed a new swimsuit. I didn't own one anymore. I got rid of my suit last year and just never replaced it. As you all know it's been a challenge to find something that fits right. Not too tight in the bust, not too loose every where else. I bought literally hundreds of dollars worth of swimsuits. Hundreds. And as the packages have come in I have channeled my mother. "Oh! Look! New stuff!" As I shopped online I just stopped paying attention to the prices, "This is cute!" click in the basket. Knowing that I would be returning the bulk of them made spending the money not real. In they would come, out they would go. Shop! Shop! Shop! Seems Amazon.com is pretty much the same as HSN or QVC as far as triggers go.

And then my father showed up. I have settled on two suits. One of them I got on a great sale. Both pieces cost less than the top to the other suit I am getting. And the top to the other suit is a bikini top. There isn't a ton to it. But it fits, it's cute, I like it. But do I really need two suits? Yes, I am going to be in the water every day and putting on a dry suit is more comfortable than a damp one but as soon as I have it on I will be getting in the water so it won't be dry for long so really shouldn't I just stick with one? It's kind of wasteful to have two. And a bikini top? That's an awful lot of skin, young lady.

Returning some of the suits that didn't fit I got frustrated with the amount of detail I had to fill in on why I was returning them. Didn't fit wasn't enough. It had to be specific. And there were codes so you couldn't even just fill in the reason, you had to find the corresponding number for that reason. At that point my mother probably would have just given up and given the suits to someone else as a gift. Too much hassle to return them. But did I mention hundreds of dollars? So I filled out the paperwork. And as I looked for the right code I could feel the grin start to spread across my face as I thought about what my father would have said to the sales clerk when she asked, "How did they fit?" He would have said I looked like Spring in them. Busting out all over.

I am my parent's child. I will tell you what I think but not expect you to follow me. And once I realize all you want to do is fight I will stop talking. I like new things, but shopping makes me uncomfortable. I love my husband and son and hope they both realize that and never doubt it. Even when I am buying hundreds of dollars worth of swimsuits that Brent will have to pay for, for a vacation C doesn't even get to go on. Hundreds.

Though to be honest, I haven't taken the tags off of the second suit yet. For right now my mother's voice is winning but it's still a little too close to call.

Now what?

And on we go...

It wasn't by accident that I planned on visiting with the Staggs after going through the house. I wasn't sure what the day was going to be like and a safe space where I could be myself with people I love was just what I knew I would need. And they have always been that for me. All four of them. So as I sat on their couch listening to the stories about Jason from the past four years I just had to shake my head. Who was this person they were describing to me? I couldn't recognize the guy that I knew in any of them. I tried, but he just wasn't there. It was like someone else named Jason had been dropped in to my family and took away the Jason that I knew. And that's sort of what happened.

When someone posts on Facebook one of those little saying cards with hearts and flowers about how without trust there is no love I know one thing about them for sure. They've never had a friend, family member or significant other who suffered from addictions. Because once that has been part of your life you know that love and trust are two different things. And right now my girls (all three of them) are learning that lesson over and over again.

Loving someone and trusting someone are choices that you make. And I know for most people out there trust is a given until you break that trust. For me it isn't. I don't trust you. I might love you. But I don't trust you. Not completely. Not right away. You have to earn that. And once you earn it you better not break it because you won't be able to earn it back. I might try really really hard but it won't be there. Not really. I know this about myself. It took years for me to understand it and to realize that it's okay. My trust meter is broken. Because someone that I loved that was supposed to take care of me when I was vulnerable didn't. But I can still love you even though I don't trust you. If you don't understand that, like I said you've never had someone in your life that suffered from an addiction.

Drugs, alcohol, gambling, any of these things that take over your life change you. I always view the addiction as a living breathing thing. And it's a three year old. Spoiled. Self centered. Lies. Cries. Denies. Watching Brenda and Lindsey as they shared stories, seeing the pain and confusion that is there, made me so angry. Now C is finishing up his junior year in college, Lindsey is wrapping up her cosmetology degree, and Jaycee is graduating high school. They are all pretty much grown up. But they are all still my kids and I would still push you out a window for hurting one of them. But what do you do with the anger when pushing the offender out the window would just hurt them more?

You listen.

You try to help as much as you can. Which usually just means listening. You worry.

I worry because I can see how tired Brenda is. She's working two jobs, renting out a couple rooms trying to hold on to the house and the land and the horses and handle the rest of the expenses. I worry about Lindsey and Jaycee both in school and both working. Dealing with grown up decisions about money and life plans that they shouldn't have to just yet. I worry because they both always have a boyfriend and I'm not sure if it's just because they are gorgeous (which they are) or if it's the start of always looking for a stable male figure in their lives. I worry because I see in Lindsey a lot of the anger that I had. And I worry that if it takes her as long to get over it as it did me she will waste her 20s pissed at the world like I did my teens. And I worry about Jason.

I worry that he won't get clean. He's in rehab right now but it doesn't sound like he's taking it seriously. You know how that goes if you've ever had an addict in your life. They aren't really an alcoholic because they don't drink everyday. They aren't really an alcoholic because they only drink beer, or wine. They aren't really a drug addict because they only smoke pot. They aren't addicted to gambling because they have a system. And it's not fair to have to never ever have another drink, smoke another joint, take another pill, place another bet. Other people can do it, I can too! Like I said, addiction is a three year old.

And I worry about what happens when he does sober up.

See once he's sober he is going to have to look at what has happened. This is the hard part and when most people relapse. I've told friends before that sobriety isn't for sissies. It's hard. Especially when you have to look at what you pissed on while you weren't straight. What you broke that can't be fixed. The damage you did. And someday he's going to have to realize all of this. To face the years of his daughters' lives that he can't get back. The see the damage he did to the woman that lost not only her husband but her best friend. While the three year old screams at him to get drunk and forget about it all again.

Now the good news about all of this is that the Staggs girls are made of tough stuff. Brenda is a fighter and is doing what she needs to do to take care of herself and the girls. She's also dating a firefighter who treats her well and is good to her kids. He seems very nice, kind of quite but that's okay. She gets along with his kids as well and that's important. She has stable work and a few plans in place for what happens if she has to sell the house. She also has a large support system in Tucson, people who are there for her when she needs them. Because she's smart and strong and has a giant heart. She's also learned that you can still love someone but not be able to have them in your life. Or believe them when they tell you how they are going to change and do better, no matter how much you want to believe them. But you can still love them. And she's learning that it is a special kind of hurt to love someone and not have it be enough to fix them. Which is a lesson I wish she had never had to face.

And because they have Brenda the girls aren't left to flounder on their own. I suggested that they find an Al-Anon group and start going to meetings. There are only a few people out there that understand that special kind of anger when you, as the child or the teen, are left to take care of the person that is supposed to be taking care of you. It's a safe place to admit how pissed off you are and how completely unfair it all is. And they can help you learn to say no. Because you have to learn to do that as well.

When I have friends facing addictions I am a great listener. I will hear you out as you talk about getting clean. I will support the hell out of you as you are going through rehab and once you are sober I will tell you how proud I am of you. But I won't make excuses for you to use. I won't say it's okay that you are using. I won't tell you that you are right it's not fair that you don't get to have a beer when everyone else is having one. I won't tell you that getting fall down drunk every once in awhile is okay. I won't take care of you when you are messed up. In fact I will cut you off and not deal with you at all if you keep using. Because your addiction has control of you and I won't let it control me as well.

And that's the hardest part that they all have had to learn. That his disease has control right now and they can't fix him by taking care of him more. Or loving him more. Or anything more. He has to do it himself. And he has to want it more than he wants that next drink. And I hope he does it soon. Because he has two beautiful daughters living fascinating lives that he is going to regret missing out on.

So those are my blogs about the Staggs family. I love them. I want the best for them. All of them. And I know that life isn't going to be easy. But I also know that push comes to shove these girls have each other's backs and that's what really matters.

Here come my girls....

For those of you out there that are married you know that moment of luck when you find another married couple that you get along with? Not just the wives or just the husbands or you just like one of the other couple or they like just one of you but all four of you like each other? You know how rare that is right? And then for those of you who have kids to add to the mix to find a couple that you like both of them and both of them like both of you and you all like each others kids? It's rare. We've been lucky in our married life to have had a few of those friendships and we know how lucky we are for that because we've also had a few where it was obvious that only one of them liked us and the other was tagging along to be nice or the ones where one of us only liked one of them or the kids couldn't stand each other or any combination there of. But sometimes it all works out and you have the perfect blend.

The Staggs family was like that for us from the start. We met when we moved up to Portland the first time. We were living in an apartment complex trying to decide what to do about a house and they moved in to the space diagonal from us. Now I have to say we totally bribed them into friendship the way the socially awkward do. We had cool toys. Our apartment had a little patio area and we had stuck C's outdoor toys in there. There was a slide and a sandbox and maybe something else, but it was brightly colored and looked like a mini-playground and their girls really wanted to come play, so we made them hang out with us. I'm not proud of it...

We would haul out lawn chairs on Sunday morning and drink our coffee and read the paper while the kids played. The friendship grew from there. They were from New Mexico as well so we bonded over that. Lindsey and C are the same age and Jaycee is a couple of years younger so we were going through the same parenting issues. When they found a house to buy we stalked them and moved in behind them. Well, okay, what actually happened was while we were helping them move Brenda and I decided to take a walk around the block and there was this house for sale in the neighborhood. Brent and I hadn't decided yet if we were buying or going to rent or where we would move but it wouldn't hurt to take a look right? And I fell in love with this house. It was gorgeous. Big bay window, high ceilings, giant back yard with a playhouse that matched the main house. And completely out of what our budget would be. So we looked and looked at other houses and finally gave in and bought that one. Though we did get them to lower the price a little so it wasn't so bad.

Anyway, now we were neighbors again. The kids played together we hung out together. Brenda spied on our water heater. We yelled at Jody to hush when you could hear his bark from two streets away. And we all got along. Mostly. I mean kids are kids. There would be times when C and the girls would be playing upstairs and you would hear *stomp, stomp, stomp* as they would all come down the stairs to tell you what horrible thing the others were doing. Now 9 times out of 10 it boiled down to Lindsey wanted to play one thing and C wanted to play another. Lindsey being the older sister was pretty used to things going her way. C being an only child was completely used to things going his. And Jaycee loved to pit them against each other. Oh, you didn't think we knew? We knew, baby girl, we knew.

Their personalities would come in to play then. Lindsey is the most headstrong of the three. She's always wanted things to go just so and when they don't she's not shy about letting you know she's not happy. Jaycee is our little calm in the storm. She's always been an old soul. But she's also a little sprite. More energy than you can shake a stick at. She used to use Brent as a jungle gym and when she got in to gymnastics I was amazed at the things she could do, girl could fly! So every once in awhile (or more than every once) she would stir the pot just to do it. And C? Well you all know what he is like. So he would be there trying to logic out the behavior of a 6 and 4 year old. Good times!

No, seriously, good times. We celebrated holidays and birthdays together. When we would go out as a group people had a hard time deciding which kid belonged to which set of parents and even which set of parents was a set! Since all three of the kids were little blondies most of the time it would be decided by people that it was Brent and Brenda that had the kids and Jason and I were the childless ones. I am not sure how many people we freaked out when they realized they got the pairings wrong!

Then they moved away. Then they came back. Then we moved away. Then we came back. Then they moved away. And we waited and waited and waited....

But the friendships endured. We went to visit a couple of times and we picked right up where we left off. You just know a friendship that is destined for the ages and this was it. They were the guardians for C we named in our will. We joked about going in to the nursing home together. The four of us confusing the staff when the kids came to visit and they had to figure out who belonged to whom again. It was going to be great.

Then a few years ago I started to notice that when Brenda would talk about what was going on it was always just her and the girls. Never Jason. Now I knew he worked a lot. Over the time that we've known them he's had a variety of jobs, always finding something new and better with a promotion and a move. And I knew he had to travel in his latest position so at first I sort of dismissed it as that. Then I finally had to ask what was going on. And they were splitting up. There was a story and I almost blogged about it as it was happening but that's not really my story to tell so I didn't. At the time. But during this last visit in Tucson Brenda asked me when I was going to write about them. So now it's time. Sort of...

I'm not going to get into the weeds of what happened because it's still not my story, but I am going to talk about it from the outside looking in. And how divorce and addiction and family and love and trust and all of that effects so many more people than you realize. How tied we all are. How the important people in your life aren't just in it, they are it.

But that's a heavy story and so I will post it in it's own space tomorrow. Because right now I'm washed in memories of these guys:

And I want to hold on to that for just a little bit longer.

House hunters Tucson...

So now that we've all caught up on the back-story where did I leave off?

So we have the letter from the lawyer and the will. Looking through all of the changes she had made over the years we find the original document and finally find where Ann is mentioned. She specifically called her out in the will just to make sure that she got nothing. Sweet. And we can see that it was only a couple of years ago that Dona changed the will to leave the house to C. Before that it was going to some woman we had never heard of. Now this wasn't a huge surprise, as we had no idea what was going on in Dona's life, but it was odd to see her leaving something to a stranger instead of to her sister at least.

We got the letter on a Friday and there was nothing really to do about it until Monday when we could contact the law firm and get more answers. Well nothing to do but speculate a little. My theory as to when the will was changed was due to C's age. She waited until he reached an age she could leave everything to him without it going through Ann or Brent. And we decided that she left him the house because he was the only relative that had never pissed her off, because she had never met him. Brent had to call his mother and tell her that Dona had died, and then Ann had to call Dona's sister and let her know. Nobody had contact with her anymore so nobody in the family had known.

Our biggest concern at this point was that we had no idea what we were dealing with. Had anyone been to the house since she died? Did she have pets that had needed taken care of? Was there a mortgage on the house so really this wasn't a good thing for C but a hassle? And of course being who we are there were the inappropriate jokes, I told C that since he inherited the house and all of the contents if she died there then maybe he got her body as well. As he put it the whole thing was just surreal. His great grandmother who had never been a presence in his life left him a house in a retirement community in Arizona. What do you do with that?

Well what we did was finally get a hold of the lawyer. She died of pancreatic cancer, six months from diagnosis to her death, her last month was spent in hospice care where she got wonderful treatment. She had a dog but it had been put to sleep a few months before she got ill so there was no worry there. They had already changed the locks on the house and taken possession of it when Dona went in to hospice. The trust would handle the sale of all of the contents and of the house if we wanted and we wouldn't have to do anything. Or we could take possession of it all and handle it ourselves. There would be a four month time frame where anyone who wanted to could contest the will. I got a power of attorney for C so I could take over and we decided that I should take a trip down to at least see the house before it sold.

Now anyone who knows me knows this was purely selfish on my part. I wanted to see her house. I wanted to see how she lived. This was Brent's grandmother and I had never met her. She had no interest in getting to know me, but I was dying of curiosity about her. What makes someone like that? Why would she choose to live in such a way that she had no contact with her family? Her daughter didn't speak to her. Apparently her sister hadn't been talking to her either. Her contact with her son had been sporadic and he had only somewhat reconciled with her when he needed someone to take care of him when he was dying. She had no real contact with her grandson and had never reached out to her great grandson. Both of whom are awesome and she was really missing out on not knowing them. Not to mention her granddaughter-in-law who she had dismissed without even a shot. I was on a search. My greatest hope was that there would be journals.

Arrangements were made, the trip was booked and planned and off I went to Tucson. I had contacted my mother-in-law before heading down to see if there was anything she wanted. Her first reaction was that she felt like anything in the house would have bad vibes attached to it, so she didn't want anything. But then she remembered a pitcher that had belonged to her father's side of the family that she thought Dona might have taken so if I found that she would like it. She also offered to come with me. I had already planned out the boondoggle portion of the trip and also honestly felt like that would be a lot of extra emotion to deal with so I turned her down. But I thought it was nice that she was willing to go in to what would have had to be an uncomfortable place so I wouldn't have to do it alone.

So Tuesday morning in Tucson. I am driving through the neighborhood to get to Dona's house thinking to myself that it all looked awfully familiar. After a double check on Tuesday night I found out I was right. That trip we had taken a few years earlier? Well the house our friends were living in at the time was only a few blocks away! We were that close to her. Talk about what could have been an awkward walk around the block...

I get to the house and Toni the legal assistant is there to meet me. Lovely woman who starts out with, "So sorry about your loss" I had to stop her and say that I was not really sure how much of the family history she was aware of but that I didn't know Dona at all so....She relaxed and told me that she knew quite a bit and that I would be surprised how many estranged situations they have to deal with. We chatted for awhile as she showed me around and then let me know that I could take anything I wanted and where to leave the key for her to pick up later. I told her that the only thing I was really interested in was the pitcher and any sort of family history. And then she left and I had the house to myself...

Actually I'm going to back up just a bit. When I got there Toni had the garage open and was meeting with a roof repair guy so we came in through there. And the first thing I see of Dona's house is:

The Sarah Palin Fan Wall

Oh my...well this answers the question that we had on if she had left the money to Bush because of what she believed or as just a sharp stick in the eye of my MIL. See, it seems that years ago Dona was a hard core democrat, so we weren't sure if she had changed world views or if she was just making a point to Ann who still is one. I also had to laugh because when my hair is longer and I wear my gold rim glasses...well...let's just say if I need a go to scary Halloween costume I've got one. If she had only known!

So the methodical search of the house started. I wanted to make sure I looked at everything. I wanted to get a feel for who she was. Still hoping for journals. I started in the furthest corner of her house which happened to be the master bedroom closet. She had jewelry boxes in there and at one point while I was sitting on her bed sorting through them I thought, "I am looking through a dead woman's things, how weird is this?" It didn't stop me, just paused me for a second. And then there was this:

Hmmm...we might have actually had something in common.

She also had some lovely amethyst earrings and rings.  I almost brought the earrings home with me but the thought of wearing someone else's earrings kind of squicked me out so I left them to be sold. 

There was also a recipe box that I pulled down off the shelf:

Brent's grandmother's recipes aren't like your grandmother's recipes.

And this is where I have to say that I just wish I knew more about her. Dona was born in 1928 and she was a scientist of some renown. She had boxes of requests from all over the world to view and teach her research.  Think about that for a minute. She was born in 1928. She started as a nurse then went back to school and got her doctorate all in a time where women just didn't really do a lot of that. In the papers she published with Goodnight (the father of Sheldon, Brent's uncle) she often had top name. I just imagine that she had to have incredible stories of what she went through and how she was one of the ones breaking down barriers and busting through glass ceilings. And she was gorgeous:

Nursing School Graduation Picture

Now that part shouldn't have come as a surprise to me. My mother-in-law did some modeling when she was younger so I knew the genes were there. But I had never really seen pictures of Dona when she was younger so it was hard to imagine. But she was. So strong willed, beautiful and successful? Sounds like someone you would want to know. Except of course for the crazy part. And crazy does trump all.

So as I am exploring this treasure trove of a closet I find a box that came from some science organization. It was shipped to her in the 2000s so long after she was active in the field. I turned it over and over looking to see an opening but it was still wrapped from shipping and she had never opened it. I thought about seeing what was inside but put it back on the shelf to deal with later. 

I'm going to highlight a few of the things I found.

 Okay, so maybe we wouldn't have had much to talk about bookwise...

 She had this box of crosswords that she had cut out and kept, but I didn't see any evidence anyplace else of her actually doing them...

 Girlfriend loved her Southwestern jewelry! 

 This was a box of Sheldon's things. Including a bunch of clues she had left for an Easter Egg hunt one year. She also had all of his cub scout badges. And there was an envelope with a few pictures of Ann.

 She was WELL traveled and there was a drawer full of maps.

Do you all remember these? 

  Adorable picture of my mother-in-law from her school years.

This one was actually a bit of a shock.  That's a picture of C from maybe 4th or 5th grade. In front and behind are pictures of Brent and his uncle, yes she liked to dress them alike for pictures.

And there were these all over the place. Pictures she had cut out of the former president and first lady. This was on the same shelf as the rest of the family pictures.

 Knew it! The notes figuring out how old someone born in 1992 would be. This was tucked in with the estate planning documents.

She had needlepoint all over the place. She did beautiful work.

Stacks of envelopes from when she was at Western. Not sure why she kept them.

In one of the four offices she had in the house. A copy of an old Christmas letter we sent and C's birth announcement.

So this last one made me shake my head. This particular folder was tucked in with other correspondence she had received. Quite a bit of it being from people thanking her so much for the lovely cross stitch birth certificates she had sent. She kept C's birth announcement, had all of the information there but didn't make one for her own great grandson. Now to be fair I would have just been pissed because it would have shown his mother to be some woman named Sharon...but still.

So as I am looking through things I am gathering clues that are piecing a life together. She still had a lot of things that had belonged to her dog around. And a lot of pictures of her dogs through the years. So she loved those dogs. She had family pictures around, though an odd collection of them. The picture of C on the shelf surprised me. We sent them every year but to see she had put them out was nice. Though she stopped at an odd age. When I got home I stood looking at the pictures we have of him and that year, that picture the resemblance to that side of the family is the strongest. I'm not saying that's why she didn't change it out after that, but it wouldn't surprise me. Seeing pictures of Ann was nice as well. I hadn't expected there to be any proof in her house that she had a daughter as well as a son. But there were pictures.

So then I started to wonder if she had them for herself or for her neighbors? She lived in a retirement community so you know that grand children were talked about and bragged over. Families were discussed. So did she have the pictures because she wanted to see them or because it was expected of her? When I was talking to C about it my kind child pointed out that it could have been that she wished she had made different choices and had the pictures out as what she wished life could be like. He's a good egg that boy.

I found the books holding the original estate planning documents, from right around the time she wanted our social security numbers. So it looks like she really was doing her will. She still didn't need our numbers, but at least that panned out. And as I was reading those documents and got to the part that was her wishes for what happened after she died I wasn't surprised to see that she had donated her body to science and that they could cremate her when they were done and hmmm...this name is familiar, where have I seen it before? And then OH MY GOD...the box in the closet that I was turning over and over looking at! It was from the same company, shipped in 2005! Oh holy hell....I texted Brent..."Umm...just found your uncle."  Yep, it was Sheldon I was so cavalierly turning over and over. Seriously, you should label something like that!

So I decided it was time to take a bit of a break. I sent my mother-in-law a picture of some pieces I had found that I thought might be what she was looking for, texted Brent to call her to have a look and left the house for a bit. 

Sitting at lunch trying to absorb everything I had already seen and trying to get a full picture of who she was the realization that it was probably not going to happen was dawning on me. I had a lot of pieces, a lot of things showing me a bit about what she was like but nothing really stitching it all together. And of course as often happens when I think about family I started to think about the progression. I don't know much at all about Dona's mother but there was a picture in a photo album of her that Dona had labeled, "The Monster" so let's say that relationship wasn't good. Dona was brilliant, no doubt about it but extraordinarily rigid. From what I know about Ann's father (also a lot of gaps there) he was much more of a free spirit. Much more. Ann was raised mostly by Dona, she didn't even know her father until her teen years. So her role model for life was Dona. And she rebelled. And they ended up with no contact because Dona couldn't bend.

My mother-in-law is also brilliant. And at times she has been a little rigid, though nothing like Dona. And she has mellowed a lot over the years. Ann married Jack (twice) who was a bit goofy. Brent was raised by Ann mostly, Jack and Ann divorced when he was young and didn't reconciled until his early teens. So really she was his main role model. And he did rebel a touch, not as much but there was a period of time where it was touch and go if the family legacy of estrangement was going to continue. But we made it past that and we are still in contact with her, still visit when we can and we have no doubt in our minds that she loves us all very much.

Brent is brilliant. But he's not really rigid, serious but not rigid. And he married me. And I know this is going to come as a shock to you all, but I can be a little goofy. Okay a lot goofy. It's like they were all seeking out that other side. The goofball side. The piece that was going to mellow them out just a bit.  Each generation adding a layer of goofball to the brilliance to mellow the mix.  And we had C. Who is brilliant. And a goofball. I guess it worked. It will be interesting to see what the next generation brings. And I will see it because there is no fear on my part of estrangement from C. It's unthinkable to me.

Or maybe I had low blood sugar and was just making connections where there weren't any.

So back to the house.

Turns out that one of the pieces I found actually was the pitcher Ann had remembered. Brent said she called it the hot chocolate pitcher. Her aunt (edit: actually cousin of her grandmother) on her father's side used to serve hot chocolate out of it and she had always loved it. I shipped it and a book I found that I think must have belonged to her grandfather and both made it to New Mexico safe and sound.

Isn't it lovely?

I mentioned that Dona had like four offices right? There was a touch of hoarder in her. I think a lot of that has to do with age. Not just that she was older but she had been a depression era baby and like my parents (she was two years older than my father) they kept everything! You just never knew what you could use or turn in to something else right? And paperwork was one of those things. She had four different areas set up with paperwork. It sort of seemed like each area was dedicated to different things. Personal correspondence, bill paying, travel planning, and one that I have no idea. In each of the areas I found something from us. The Christmas letter/birth announcement in the personal correspondence area. Another Christmas letter in the travel planning spot, oh my goodness was she at one point planning a surprise visit? Another Christmas letter in the random area and then in the bill paying area the envelope from the last Christmas letter where she had written my name and C's name next to our return address label. Well there you go, it only took her 26 years but she finally figured out what my name is.

There was also the Christmas letter from two years ago along with the scratch note on how old C would be in the estate planning documents. The letter talked about how well he was doing in school and how well Brent was doing at work. I hope that she took a little pride in that. But that was when she changed the will to take out the mystery woman and add C. But the mystery woman was no longer a mystery! I found a copy of her Christmas letter in a file and it had a line in there about going to Tucson and having lunch with an old college friend Dona! So the woman that was going to get her house was someone she went to college with. Wow....imagine how surprised she would have been!

Okay, I know this is super long already but I'm almost done. The final room. 

I mentioned the touch of hoarder right?

And in this room at her desk I found:

Oh my gosh!

At this point I might have yelled out YES! I was so excited! And do you see the little corner of an envelope sticking out? That's the Christmas card I was telling you about earlier with our return address on it. I honestly thought I was going to open this and get some insight in to Dona. And I guess I sort of did.

Yep, notes from some vacation she had taken detailing the area.

And that was really it. There were photo albums and I pulled out the older family photos and brought them home. Hopefully the next time Ann visits we can figure out who is who. And then there were albums from the travel she did. She went to the most incredible places. And when you looked through the albums there would be a divider labeling where it was, and then five or six pictures of interesting sites there. Then the next section. No pictures of people. Every once in awhile a picture of just her standing someplace, but that was rare. After Goodnight died and Sheldon left home she must have continued her traveling but gone alone. Though to be honest I didn't see any pictures of her traveling with Goodnight either. There were some from them being in Arizona together, so I know he was around for awhile, I just don't know for how long. 

As I was leaving the house I texted Brent to let him know I was done. He asked what I had learned and I had to admit not much. I feel like I know a little more about what she was like but I don't understand her any more than I did before I went. The photo albums full of places but no one to share them with. The family pictures that were all decades old. Keeping letters from us but not reaching out to have an actual relationship with us. Then I told him the time had been interesting but sad. He texted me back and said that was probably the best way to sum up his grandmother.

Interesting but sad.

TV tropes in real life...

So you know that old tired TV trope where a long lost relative dies and leaves you money? You know that never happens in real life right? Right? Ummm, right?

Most of you know the background story but I will share in case you don't. And just because it's really a great story.

Brent and I decided to get married when we were still in high school.  Actually March of our senior year. By the time graduation rolled around we were living together, that's a story for another day, it's more innocent than it sounds. But anyway, we were already pretty well established on the road we were going to walk. For graduation his grandmother decided to give him a trip to go back to Michigan to visit with family. Great, very generous. Now his mother and his grandmother had a very strained relationship, basically no relationship, and Ann said she didn't think this would be a good idea, but Brent had never had real issue with his grandmother and I was in the belief that "Hey, this is your grandmother! How nice to go see her!"

So off he went. And then the fun started. We didn't know when he left when he was coming back, so when he got there and called home I asked. He still didn't know. A few days later I asked again. She still hadn't told him. So by this time he told her she had to let him know because I needed to make sure I was off work to pick him up and make arrangements. And then she told him he wasn't going back. There was no return ticket. She had decided that if his parents weren't going to do anything about him marrying that trashy trailer park girl she was. Yep, she basically kidnapped him for graduation. And now you see why she and Ann had such a strained relationship.

Her plan was that he would stay there and she would get him in to Purdue and he would just forget about me and go on to live the life she had planned for him. Now a few things that didn't work, if she had known her grandson at all she should have realized that if she wanted to effectively bribe him it should have been University of Michigan. And he was already on a deferred enlistment for the Navy so getting out of that wasn't going to be as simple as she probably thought. Oh and the whole he loved me and hates to be bossed around parts. So instead of staying with her he called his Aunt and Uncle and they came and got him and I tapped our savings account and got him a ticket home.

Time for the wedding rolls around and I am still insistent that this is his grandmother so we send her an invitation. Ann says, not a good idea. We do it anyway and don't hear a word from her. She did call Ann and berate her for letting it go through. Now Ann and Jack got married very young as well and understood that nobody could have told them it was a bad idea, even though it ended in divorce a few years later, they still knew that there was no telling us what to do at that point either.

And that's the thing, Dona wasn't wrong. I was a trashy girl who lived in a trailer. Brent could have done what looked like a better choice than marry me and join the Navy. He could have gone on to college and majored in any number of things. And we were crazy to decide to get married at 17. But there are ways of saying all of these things without trying to control a life. There are things she could have done to be supportive of Brent but it was her way or no way. And because of that we didn't hear from her again until after C was born.

I did the whole, this is your grandmother thing again and we sent her a birth announcement. Only grandson has the first great grandchild. She deserved to know. And she actually responded.  She sent a letter to Brent, Christopher and Sharon. Yep. With my name on the birth announcement in front of her she decided to take the petty route and give me a random one. For me this was the final note I needed to know that she was never going to be different.

Our contact with her over the next few years was just as bizarre. She sent money a couple of Christmases.  We sent a thank you note letting her know we had put it away in Christopher's savings account for him to have when he was older. Didn't hear from her again until C was around 4 or 5 and she contacted us through her sister. Aunt Dee let us know that Dona wanted all of our social security numbers so she could put us in her will. We told Aunt Dee she didn't need our numbers for that, just our names. Dona insisted that unless we send her the numbers we weren't in the will. We told her that was fine.

About 8 or 9 years ago we took a trip to Tucson and visited with friends of ours and it made it into the Christmas letter that year. We got a nasty letter from Dona letting us know how selfish we were for not stopping in and seeing Brent's uncle who was there at the time and dying. Well, Dona, if you had let us know at any point in time that Sheldon was sick, let alone dying, we might have. Or might not have since we hadn't heard from him in 15 years by that point either. And then here and there after that we would get a letter after our Christmas letter went out. No I'm sorry, no I was wrong, no come see me. Nothing. Just a note here and there and always addressed just to Brent. I've mentioned before that the one thing Brent's dad got early was to keep a relationship with his son he needed to make sure he kept one with me. She didn't see that.

So jump forward to few months ago. Brent had checked the mail and tossed the stack towards me. There was an envelope for C in the stack. From a legal firm in Tucson addressed to him by his full name. I sent him a text asking if he had applied for an internship out there or if he wanted me to open the letter. Brent came back in to the living room and asked me what I thought the letter was. I told him that honestly I believed it was from a law firm telling us his grandmother was dead. And when C texted back to open the letter that's what it was. We regret to inform you....and then the will. She left her house and all of its belongings to C. And everything else to George W. Bush.

I know, right?

And here we are at a good blog length and I haven't even gotten to the trip. So more to come. As in what does a 20 year old do with a house in a retirement community? And George Bush? Really?