One day a woman's husband died, and on that clear, cold morning, in the warmth of their bedroom, the wife was struck with the pain of learning that sometimes there isn't any "more."
No more hugs, no more special moments to celebrate together, no more phone calls just to chat, no more "just one minute."
Sometimes, what we care about the most gets all used up and goes away, never to return before we can say “good-bye” or say "I love you."
So while we have it, we must love it, care for it, fix it when it's broken, and heal it when it's sick.
This is true for marriage.....And old cars... And children with bad report cards, and dogs with bad hips, and aging parents and grandparents. We keep them because they are worth it, because we are worth it.
Some things we keep -- like a best friend who moved away or a sister-in-law after divorce. There are just some things that make us happy, no matter what.
Life is important, like people we know who are special.. And so, we keep them close!
I received this from someone who thought I was a 'keeper.' Then I sent it to the people I think of in the same way. Now it's your turn to send this to all those people who are "keepers" in your life, including the person who sent it, if you feel that way. Suppose one morning you never wake up, do all your friends know you love them?
Let every one of your friends know you love them. Even if you think they don't love you back. And just in case I'm gone tomorrow:
I LOVE YA!!!
Live today because tomorrow is not promised.
_______________________________________________________________________________
My Aunt Aida has been gone since May of this year. And while I had only a few precious moments with her in my lifetime, enough to recall on two hands, I still grieve for her. I remember her in my childhood before she and my uncle moved from the islands, and when I visited her, my uncle, and my cousins on the mainland. The last time I saw her was a few years ago when my family and I took a trip to Georgia. The woman of my childhood memories was even more fantastic now that I am an adult and can fully appreciate her. The memories of her on that Georgia visit stand out most because they are most recent and because it showed me what I had been missing in those years between visits. And now she's gone. There is no "more."
For a long time, there's been a disconnect in my lifeline to family. It's not that I didn't care or didn't know they were out there. Mostly, the convenience of technology has made it so much easier to stay connected.
I cannot fathom the void left in my aunt's absence, yet I still feel it. It is there. The absence of "more" despite the lingering existence of desire for that specific "more." I guess that's what grief is.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Friday, September 16, 2011
Evolution
I've evolved.
I think that's what's supposed to happen by the time you hit the big 3-0: you realize you really have learned from past mistakes and experiences.
I look back on my life and can really see how young, ignorant, and inexperienced I was in my career and extracurricular activities just a few short years ago.
I couldn't admit I was on a career path I wasn't passionate about and focused too singularly on what I did in one area of my life. I needed balance. I didn't know that was what I needed at the time.
I was talking to a good friend on the phone this afternoon about how passionate I was about coaching wrestling back in the day. Wrestling was my life. There were only two seasons of the year for me: wrestling season and the off-season. There was nothing else. I had to be involved in it and always have my finger on the pulse of the program to which I contributed. That is, until work and other factors phased me out of participating.
If I were to go back to it, I would want nothing more than to be a head coach of a wrestling program so that I could take my experiences and implement what I know now. I feel I am more than qualified to run a program based on personal experience and expertise, but I think what would set me apart now from the kind of coach I was then (other than me being the head coach rather than an assistant) would be the fact that I would have in place a disciplinary action program, as well as incident reporting and investigation procedures for the coaches and the athletes I would oversee. I think those are key elements missing from coaching programs in sports today.
As it is, I don't have the time to give to something like that. I prefer to continue developing the balance I've created in my life. The funny thing is that wrestling doesn't even have a role in that balance. It was the absence of wrestling in my life that created peace for me.
Like I said: I've evolved.
I think that's what's supposed to happen by the time you hit the big 3-0: you realize you really have learned from past mistakes and experiences.
I look back on my life and can really see how young, ignorant, and inexperienced I was in my career and extracurricular activities just a few short years ago.
I couldn't admit I was on a career path I wasn't passionate about and focused too singularly on what I did in one area of my life. I needed balance. I didn't know that was what I needed at the time.
I was talking to a good friend on the phone this afternoon about how passionate I was about coaching wrestling back in the day. Wrestling was my life. There were only two seasons of the year for me: wrestling season and the off-season. There was nothing else. I had to be involved in it and always have my finger on the pulse of the program to which I contributed. That is, until work and other factors phased me out of participating.
If I were to go back to it, I would want nothing more than to be a head coach of a wrestling program so that I could take my experiences and implement what I know now. I feel I am more than qualified to run a program based on personal experience and expertise, but I think what would set me apart now from the kind of coach I was then (other than me being the head coach rather than an assistant) would be the fact that I would have in place a disciplinary action program, as well as incident reporting and investigation procedures for the coaches and the athletes I would oversee. I think those are key elements missing from coaching programs in sports today.
As it is, I don't have the time to give to something like that. I prefer to continue developing the balance I've created in my life. The funny thing is that wrestling doesn't even have a role in that balance. It was the absence of wrestling in my life that created peace for me.
Like I said: I've evolved.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Peeved
I can't think of a way to tactfully introduce what I want to say, so I'll get right to it.
With the upcoming seasonal change on the horizon (i.e. summer to fall), I cannot help but be keenly irritated at how freely clothing distributors, fashion bloggers, and people in general refer to a piece as being "knitted" or "crocheted" when it is not.
Having delved rather passionately into knitting, crochet, weaving, tatting, spinning, macrame...fiber arts, sewing, and clothing construction in general...I have a huge appreciation for all things hand made. I also like fashion as much as any other girl, but I pay more than average attention to clothing design and construction. Call it appreciation, education, or even dedication. But whatever you do, call it by the correct name! Dammit!
A knitted piece is very distinguishable from a crocheted piece by the stitch structure if all you're doing is going by appearances. Anyone who has actually done the technique would know better, and I feel anyone marketing a piece of clothing distinguished by those techniques should know, too. I would think whoever designed the piece would definitely feel slighted that their design is not fully appreciated if it is referred to incorrectly.
I don't know. I'm just very annoyed at the ignorance. It's an annoyance similar to that experienced by fashion designer houses if you were to inappropriately use the phrase "haute couture" to refer to expensive, ready-made clothing in stores.
That said, I still cannot reconcile in my head paying $154 for a locksmith. I'm sorry. I just can't.
With the upcoming seasonal change on the horizon (i.e. summer to fall), I cannot help but be keenly irritated at how freely clothing distributors, fashion bloggers, and people in general refer to a piece as being "knitted" or "crocheted" when it is not.
Having delved rather passionately into knitting, crochet, weaving, tatting, spinning, macrame...fiber arts, sewing, and clothing construction in general...I have a huge appreciation for all things hand made. I also like fashion as much as any other girl, but I pay more than average attention to clothing design and construction. Call it appreciation, education, or even dedication. But whatever you do, call it by the correct name! Dammit!
A knitted piece is very distinguishable from a crocheted piece by the stitch structure if all you're doing is going by appearances. Anyone who has actually done the technique would know better, and I feel anyone marketing a piece of clothing distinguished by those techniques should know, too. I would think whoever designed the piece would definitely feel slighted that their design is not fully appreciated if it is referred to incorrectly.
I don't know. I'm just very annoyed at the ignorance. It's an annoyance similar to that experienced by fashion designer houses if you were to inappropriately use the phrase "haute couture" to refer to expensive, ready-made clothing in stores.
That said, I still cannot reconcile in my head paying $154 for a locksmith. I'm sorry. I just can't.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
P & S
I work with a romantic.
Since I've switched professions within my company in December of last year, I've had the opportunity to work with a lot of different personalities at a far more accelerated rate over a given time interval than ever before.
My favorite to date, though, has to be my current associate. He is a very capable man with years of experience in the industry and a very amicable personality. What I like most about him, though, has nothing to do with work. This man LOVES his wife. His love story with her is so endearing and enchanting that I cannot help but look forward to his recollection of stories about the two of them. If it was a book, it would read like a romance novel, but without all the steamy scenes.
They met in high school. He was a senior in high school. She was two years younger and of a strict military upbringing. Her father disapproved of the relationship and moved away to wherever the military took them. They wrote to each other, but their letters were always intercepted by disapproving parents. Years became decades. They moved on with their lives and had families of their own.
His wife died. Her husband "came out of the closet." Through serendipity and fate, they managed to find each other again after over thirty years. They are together now. Since reuniting, their love continued almost as if nothing else had occurred to disrupt that harmony. The decades between them seemed almost to enrich the enjoyment they have of each other now.
And now, all they have is each other. They're newlyweds with the growing pains already over and done with.
I like that.
Since I've switched professions within my company in December of last year, I've had the opportunity to work with a lot of different personalities at a far more accelerated rate over a given time interval than ever before.
My favorite to date, though, has to be my current associate. He is a very capable man with years of experience in the industry and a very amicable personality. What I like most about him, though, has nothing to do with work. This man LOVES his wife. His love story with her is so endearing and enchanting that I cannot help but look forward to his recollection of stories about the two of them. If it was a book, it would read like a romance novel, but without all the steamy scenes.
They met in high school. He was a senior in high school. She was two years younger and of a strict military upbringing. Her father disapproved of the relationship and moved away to wherever the military took them. They wrote to each other, but their letters were always intercepted by disapproving parents. Years became decades. They moved on with their lives and had families of their own.
His wife died. Her husband "came out of the closet." Through serendipity and fate, they managed to find each other again after over thirty years. They are together now. Since reuniting, their love continued almost as if nothing else had occurred to disrupt that harmony. The decades between them seemed almost to enrich the enjoyment they have of each other now.
And now, all they have is each other. They're newlyweds with the growing pains already over and done with.
I like that.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
On Fighting the Universe
I am here at work on a Saturday.
I've been trying to figure out why it's so important that I'm here, hacking away at paperwork, when I could be at home sleeping and otherwise not causing my family stress because I am fighting the Universe.
The Universe disabled my truck last Saturday. It did not want to start. I had to call my dear boyfriend to come pick me up from the shopping center I was at and take me to work at 6:30 AM so that I could be on time for work at 7. He was not amused.
I've been trying to figure out why it's so important that I'm here, hacking away at paperwork, when I could be at home sleeping and otherwise not causing my family stress because I am fighting the Universe.
The Universe disabled my truck last Saturday. It did not want to start. I had to call my dear boyfriend to come pick me up from the shopping center I was at and take me to work at 6:30 AM so that I could be on time for work at 7. He was not amused.
This morning, I accidentally locked my keys in my truck. Again, I had to disturb the boyfriend from his sleep at 6:30 AM to tell him that I locked my keys in my truck and am therefore locked out of the house and can he please DO SOMETHING. To preface the urgency of this, we had an incident where I came home and someone had attempted to steal our shade umbrella from the yard. For whatever reason, they did not succeed and left the umbrella hanging over the side of the fence.
I was reluctant to leave my truck unattended for fear that someone would break in and steal my wallet, my computer, and even my truck in the time it would take me to cross the street to go to the house.
I merely succeeded in irritating the crap out of the boyfriend, and paying in time and money - 45 minutes and $154 to be exact - for a locksmith to come open my truck.
As an aside, I am also very irritated at being charged $154 for a man to come unlock my door. The cost for the amount of effort is very unsettling. I think he charged me more for getting him up on a Saturday morning before 7 AM than the actual cost of effort. I mean, seriously, if I had the means, I could have done what he did to open my door myself. I've considered a side job as a locksmith for that very reason. The time I waited for him to arrive from the moment I called took about 43 minutes, and the actual amount of time it took him to do the job was 2 minutes. How do I know this? I timed it. UGH.
Anyway, I have to be back home by 10 AM so the boyfriend can get ready to go to work (he has to work on a Saturday, also). And what am I doing? Writing a blog rather than actually working.
Apparently, the Universe is winning.
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