Is there really normal?

Lots of time for reflection in retirement.

Lately, I've spent some time on that - maybe because I see my kids going through so much and I wonder how in the world my mom stood the four of us.  I only have two, and there is something to grieve, at least I'm doing so, in everyday.

Sometimes I wonder what if  - I'm sure most people do.  Life didn't turn out like I planned - but whose does?

When I got in my mid twenties I began to think about old age, growing old alone, posterity, etc.  And I wanted to be normal.  You know, falling love, getting married, having children, growing old together, sitting on the porch surrounded by grandkids.  Somewhat like described in "Steel Magnolias".

And there was someone paying me a lot of attention, so I just let go and let it happen.  I fell in love, got married, but not the wedding I'd wanted.  I had the children, and while raising kids is not for sissies, it was so much harder because I didn't really have a partner.  Of course, a divorce came.  And the kids are grown!  There are grandchildren - right now all little boys and I don't really see two of them at all, the other two do visit, but none of them belong to a family unit with mom and dad.  All these little boys being raised by single moms.

And there's a new one on the way - I hope it's a girl - but as long as it and my own baby are healthy - I'll be okay.  My daughter is going thru a divorce and the soon to be ex is not the baby's father.

So - are the normal American family?  From where I sit it looks like it - so few people marry any more - and multiple children with various parentage in a single woman led household seems to be the very normality of life in America.

Where do we go from here?

Hey - wasn't that a song - yep - in Buffy the Musical!!

Grieving Yourself

Grieving for yourself and your death - is that normal?

I've kicked around plans and ideas for my service, etc. for awhile.  I made a list of songs, etc.  I've got a will, an advance directive and hopefully, some plan for the disposal of my body (I hope to go to the Body Farm in Knoxville!)

There are times when I'm sad about other things and I think about what happens after I leave.  My children are 27 and 29.  Will they be ok?  Have I done enough for them?  Well, I don't like my answers to myself and that causes me great despair.

But I grieve, for their loss but mostly for mine.  I won't see them become 40 years old, maybe not even see Lynn turn 30.  I grieve because I won't see my grandchildren become adults.  The oldest one just turned four - who am I kidding?

If history repeats itself, I've got somewhere between 9 and 15 months left.  My dad died at 58 - so did his dad.  I will be 58 on June 1 - so I'm fully expecting to go next winter when my semi-yearly battle with MRSA comes to call. 

But I'm going to refuse to go!  I've built so much strength the last few months - I refuse to think there is so little time left.

And, when I do let that reality creep into my mind, I grieve.  For a life that I've loved, even in  it's harshest moments, to the babies I will leave behind, because they will all always be babies to me.

A Mother's Tears

In the last thirty years, I've shed tears for many reasons.  Happiness, pride swelling in my chest to almost burst my eyeballs out, physical pain that left me barely able to whimper, fear that left me speechless and silent heartbreak at losing a loved one I couldn't imagine being in this world without.

But, none of those compare to a mother's tears when her child is bawling their eyes out in anguish and pain and confusion and despair.

I've had to see both of my children with these kind of tears this week.  They are in very different situations, but, they are both hurting.  And no mother can stand that - there's nothing to do with these times but just keep pushing.  It will get better, it will get different, and this won't seem so bad a year from now.  Mostly because there'll be the next rung of the ladder that will probably be worse!

How do you encourage your child to keep going, even when that going is so hard and rough?  Because that's the only choice. 

Today my son has threatened to take his life.  This is not the first time, and probably won't be the last.  But today his anguish is palatable, I can taste it, I feel it in my bones and hear it in his sobs. 

And in all their anguish, I cry.  Rivers of tears.  And I cry out to God, please help me to help them!  Tell me what to do or say to ease their pain.  Help them, dear Lord, to keep pushing.

And today, I want my own mother to cry to.

What ye sow, so shall ye reap!

Well, if I never knew the meaning of these words, I do now.

I'm very sad, more sad that I've ever been that I can remember.  I've blogged many times about being a mom and some of those hardships, but the last seven days have been so bad that I truly wonder why I'm still breathing.

Last Monday my daughter, whom I love so very dearly, and have been so very proud of her whole life, came to tell me she was pregnant.  That should have been a very happy announcement and one that I've actually prayed about.  She's 29, has Protein S deficiency and PCOS.  Becoming pregnant and maintaining a pregnancy full term would be a huge accomplishment, if it happened at all, and we've known this and discussed it.

She has been married almost six years to a man she dated five, but in the last few months they'd hit a rough spot.  I guess more than a rough spot, since her husband is not the father of her child.

I have no clue what to say.  The thoughts in my head are not nice.  And I've cussed out a few people in the last week that probably didn't deserve it, but I'm lashing out. 

There's no fixing any of this.  Her husband is heartbroken, but standing beside her.  I can't decide if he's a saint or stupid beyond words.  The sperm donor is not free - he has a wife and child that is almost two.  He doesn't work consistently, still lives with his mom and not someone I think I can ever accept the way I have her husband, nor love either.  Right now, I think I hate him.

BUT that may be because 30 years I was in a similar situation.  The man I married, before I got pregnant, had to get divorced first.  And they didn't have any children.  But today none of that is any comfort.  I set a pattern, I sowed a bad seed and now I will reap what I've sown. 

I will not only know the heartbreak my mother felt, but feel it times ten.  And I know that in 7 1/2 months, if we have a little baby, I will be so filled with love that some of this will fade.

The worse part is having no one to turn to - no one to share the pain with.  My mom and dad are gone and her dad wouldn't care that this hurts me, in fact he'd probably find it perfectly fine and funny.  So, not only do I feel the weight of ten worlds on my shoulders and my heart hurts so bad, I don't know why it beats, I am standing alone.

Years ago, my Mom told me I was making a bed so hard I couldn't lie in it.  I thought she was crazy, but I now understand.  I'm paying, and I suspect I've only scratched the surface.

Jam Memories #1

For those following me on Facebook, you know that me and my brother Larry are going to Volunteer Jam 2018 on March 7.

We attended a few Jams back in the day, 5,6 and 7 to be specific.  Saw Charlie and a lot of the guests in other shows through the years.

I shared this memory with Amy just a few minutes ago, and decided to share it on my blog and with all of you!

It was Volunteer Jam 6 in 1980, I'm pretty sure, and the Oak Ridge Boys took the stage.  A great show no doubt.  As children we had seen them when our parents took us to the All Night Gospel Sing at War Memorial Auditorium.

I don't recall exactly what songs they did, but William Lee Golden stood there and sang his parts and moved his upper body, but I swear his feet never moved!  When I commented on that to Mike, he said "His shoes were nailed to the floor". 

So perfectly Mike!!  And while he won't be with us in person March 7, I'll bet he'll see the show from the best seat available to watch the drummers!

Broken Lady

Yesterday one of my old friends and co-workers posted a playlist, as he often does on Mondays.  One of the songs was "All the Gold in California" by Larry Gatlin.  I thought I'd had not heard that song in a few years and went to play it on YouTube.

As YouTube does, another Larry Gatlin song came up in queue, "Broken Lady".  As it played and I remembered the words vividly, it was like a dam had burst in my heart (lyrics to some other country song) and if I could have, I would have hit the floor.

I had not heard either song since the 80's, at least.  And the words to "Broken Lady" rang so true in my head and heart.  I've been divorced since 2004, but I never meant to be.  I thought that I could love enough to get us through anything, and it just wasn't true.  It was an impossible task I should have never took on, but I did.

I listened to the song and sang out thru tears, until the tears dried up and I moved past it, again.  I've moved past the hurt many times in the last 15 years or so, many times more than that during the marriage.  I must remember, again, my synopsis of that failed experiment.

My worst day without him has still been better than my best day with him!

First Friends

There's a meme on Facebook that says our first friends in life are our cousins.  And that is mostly true, especially if you're an only child.  But for me, my first friend was my brother Mike.

There is only eighteen months between us - Mike was born on Christmas Day 1961.  While at that age, Christmas was not really making much sense to me, I understood well that life had changed when my mom came home to my Pampie's house with a new baby.  I don't remember it, but I can picture the scene.  Mom said I came over to the bed, glad to see her, then saw the baby.  She said I lay my head down on the bed and cried.

Mike and I had about another 16 months before our brother Larry came.  There are a few vague memories of us playing together.  By the time we were school age I remember much more.  Mike and I walked home from school when we lived in Glasgow.  Straight down Cherry Street, left on Garmon Avenue, 3rd house on the right!

Then we moved to Nashville, and began a wild ride through a bunch of different schools - not of our doing but of the forced desegregation plan in place at the time.  After 1971 we would not be in the same school at the same time until the fall of 1977 when I was a senior and Mike was a sophomore.

Mike and I ran in totally different crowds.  I was studious and on the path to college, wrote for the school newspaper and had a posse of like minded folks - we were the geeks of the school!  Mike was the artist and musician, academics were the necessary evil that had to at least be tolerated to pursue the art and music.  His friends were the freaks of the school!  But, these two groups could come together at our house without hesitation or problem and laughter was the rule of the day!

After I'd graduated and failed at the college experience, I was back home, working full time and had bought my first car.  Mike said I should come to the basketball game, the pep band was playing.  So I did.  Mike said I should go with them to Pizza Hut.  So I did.  Our younger brother Larry and his crew joined us, thus began our journey of being young adults hanging out together with friends.

For the first couple of years, I was the only one of us three that owned a car.  So, we kept those wheels burnt off between the high school, various jobs and all of our social activities!  Amy was a little too young for most of what we did, but there were good times with her too!

For the next six to eight years, we thought we owned this city.  We went to loads of concerts, and lots of festivals and city gatherings.    The right of passage to adulthood orchestrated on the streets of Nashville and in a 1979 Buick Regal!

Occasionally Mike would leave town to play music somewhere for awhile.  One of those times, he was playing a show for six months in Gatlinburg.  The entire band lived in one big house, but they had a guest room, so I drove over for a weekend of fun.  Mike and I tried to drive up to Ober Gatlinburg, but my little car wouldn't pull the mountain!  We had to go back and get his car that had a 440 Torino engine!!

Once Mike and I rented a house together and that summer Larry came home from the Army and moved in - we don't discuss the year on Algonquin Trail much but you can just imagine!!

One time I had met this guy who wanted my number and I gave him the wrong number.  I decided I might like him but wasn't sure how to approach the number thing.  So I asked Mike.  He told me just to say "Hey, my number has changed" - it was perfect and we died laughing!

In the decade that followed, I got married, Larry got married, Mike finished broadcasting school, Amy got married, we lost Dad, then Mike married.  Life happened and sometimes we didn't talk as much, but when we'd get together no time had been lost!  Oh, there were times I made him so mad at me I don't know why he didn't punch me.  And times we'd laugh until we cried.  When I got divorced, I went to court with both my brothers right there beside me.  Quickest divorce ever granted I'm sure!

It's been a month since Mike left - I've spent most of this time remembering, laughing, crying and listening to a lot of music!  I cannot truly express how much Mike was my first friend, my longest friend, and the best friend a big sister could ever have!  I love you Mike and I'll see you again!!