Magical Monday

The Babe couldn’t pick Gavin up today, so I got to. I had big plans. I love the Sun Valley Nursery in Gretna. Since Goldie ate most of my re-planted geraniums from previous visits to Sun Valley, I decided to treat myself and take Gavin so he could see it. It’s overwhelming how many different varieties of geraniums they have cultivated.

We pulled into their parking lot at 10 a.m. on the dot. No one was around. I called their number, and they said they were overwhelmed this year and sold their entire stock of geraniums out. I’m happy for them but sad for me! What an awesome year they had. The only other business they do is at the Christmas season. They grow their own versions of Poinsettias. I just may go browse this winter, but with dogs in the house, I probably won’t buy one. They’re poisonous to dogs. I just can’t trust them to not munch. That’s ok, though.

Thanks to John Cleveland, who wished me this yesterday.

We had a quiet day yesterday. Father’s Day is still a tough holiday for me. Dad’s been gone a long time, but I still feel the void in my life created when he was no longer here. I wonder if anyone might miss me that much someday. And that’s it, we all think we have until “someday.” Some do, many do not. Too often, we have friends or family become ill, and we lose them, despite great medical treatment, prayers, meals, fund raisers, and car pools. It’s so difficult when it’s a child. We all would trade places with a child in those circumstances.

When it is unexpected, the grief hits you where you live. And it moves in on you. You didn’t get to say goodbye. You had one more fishing trip planned. You forgot to ask her for the recipe she made so well. You had no time to prepare. A heart attack, an aneurysm, a stroke, and they can be maimed for life or lose their life altogether. And the grief is deep, and ugly, and hard. We don’t want to deal with this, of all things. It is too hard. It’s too long. It’s not getting better. How do people do it? We do because we have no choice in the matter. None.

What can we do? Pray. Pray for them, their family, their kids, and their parents. Pray for yourself, too. You will get through it. You don’t want to. But you will. And your life will be significantly different than it was. You get to go back in your memories and laugh with them again. Take the part of them you loved and incorporate some of it into your life. Help people. Deliver meals on wheels. Volunteer at the soup kitchen. Help someone else. In doing that, you help yourself. Over time, it does get better.

During the worst year of my life, I was a single mom, 37, with three kids. I lost: my best friend in March, my Grandma in May, my ex-father in law in September, my father in December. I was numb by the time summer came around, and I broke up with someone I’d dated a long time. He was trying to hurry me up in grieving for my friend. You can’t put a limit of two weeks on it. It’s impossible. My kids lost both grandpas in 6 months. It was a blow to all of us. I never thought it would be better. It took such a long time. But I use 1988 as an example of how a person can be stronger than they think they ever could. That doesn’t leave you, either. It’s a foundation for more. God will lighten your load. You have to trust in Him.

Sometimes, people write blogs or articles about their friends. The story telling, however it’s done, is so very important in your healing. As you tell your stories, you start to smile again. You become so grateful you had that person for a dad, or a brother, or a friend. Especially for a friend. I’m lucky to know a few people who are talented enough to write songs about their friends, dads, and grandpas.

Jason “Jake” Mayer wrote this beautiful song after he lost a lifelong friend Jason Diekmann. Jason passed from a stroke. What a tragedy. Jake wrote this beautiful song and dedicated it to his friend, about his loss. Jake’s good friend Jimmy Weber did guitar and background vocals. Jake, this is the first I’ve heard you sing, you’re good. There’s a lot of heartfelt emotion in your voice here. Hugs and prayers for you, Jake, and for Jimmy too. Here’s Jake Mayer, singing “The Rain’s Falling Down Again” (featuring Jimmy Weber). From what I understand, it’s available for download, through all the usual services. I understand it will be on the radio soon. I wish you much success with this, Jake.

Thanks to everyone who took time to read today. Talking about loss and grief may be uncomfortable, but it is so important. Dysfunctional grieving can take a real toll on families. Talk about it. Write about it. Do something with it. It will be a lasting tribute to your friend. Share, and your grief won’t be so heavy. I hope to see you tomorrow.

Sunday, Sunday

Were Sundays a special day when you were a kid? They were for us. Not so much for my mom. Since my dad worked at the Omaha World Herald on the night shift, he worked well into the early hours of Sunday. If there were mechanical breakdowns, he could be hours late getting home. Usually, he was able to fulfill his Sunday Mass obligation at the old St. Joe’s Hospital Chapel at 5 a.m., on his way home. He attended Mass with the nurses, and hurried home so Mom could go at 6 a.m. to our parish church. She would get home, wake us kids up, and my older brother and I walked to St. Bridget’s in South Omaha for the 9 a.m. Children’s Mass. We sat separated by gender just like at daily mass, which we were required to attend, too. Sunday had lots of people seated in the pews behind the children.

There was no 5 p.m. Mass during those days. That started in the very late 60’s, early 70’s. To this day, my Protestant friends laugh. They swear Catholics are the only religious denomination who can tell you where the shortest service is, time-wise. I marvel at how true that is. Never about the sermon, or the music, just about the world’s shortest Mass. Crazy!

After we went to Mass, Mom loaded all of us into the family truckster and we would go visit both grandparent’s every Sunday. They were always home. Grandma Jewell baked clover leaf rolls and Caramel Sticky Buns every week. From scratch, no less. Her house smelled heavenly. I can still smell the love when I drive past 3324 Center Street in Omaha. It will always be Grandma’s house to me.

After that, we would go to Grandma Bobell’s house. Grandpa was sometimes mowing the grass or had just finished. We would sit in their shaded backyard and visit. No matter how boring it was, you would never dare say that word out loud. Never. Grandma usually had some concoction of a snack for us. Crackers, store bought cookies, frozen juice. They were exotic treats to us because we didn’t have crackers at home for a snack, and cookies were made from scratch (cheaper back then) and juice? I think not. We drank water. No Kool-Aid or sodas for us. Water. Take it or leave it.

Did it hurt us? Heck no! We even wore our nice clothes all day on Sunday. Sunday-best was a phrase I think people used for a very long time. No pajamas and jeans were not pants anyone wore unless you were a laborer or farmer. No, jeans were not permitted at school events, dances, and we wore uniforms so they were not mainstream until about 1970. Seriously. Little boys wore dress pants/trousers just like their Dad’s and Grandpa’s. They wore a belt, they wore button shirts. There was no skipping on what was acceptable attire. The t-shirt with messages was not on the horizon until the late 70’s or early 80s. We wore leather shoes. Everyone. Tennis shoes were Keds or Converse and were strictly for tennis or basketball. I believe the first jogging shoes were the blue suede/leather ones. The fad started in the gay community and grew from there.

I love a good pair of jeans and a comfy t-shirt, believe me. I do think there is a lot to say for how we dress as a society now. We have gone beyond casual/stay at home comfy/pajamas for going out in public. We have become kind of slovenly. With that, our demeanor and speech has become so as well. There is no “polite company” any more it seems. I’m just as guilty as the rest of the world for dressing casual and for very casual speech. Guilty as I charge. I think there is a lot of respect for ourselves and our fellow humans we could regain if we could monitor how we are when we leave our front doors. We would show more respect for ourselves. We would show more respect for each other. We would garner more respect, too.

I’m not saying wear suits everywhere, I’m saying wear well fitting clothes, clean clothes, and you will be met with better reactions. It should be part of everyone. Growing up the Babe and I didn’t have a lot as kids, but we were clean. Soap and water are still cheap. Clean clothes take effort but they are worth it. Pull your pants up, make sure they fit. Don’t send a bad message with your wardrobe. Be respectful. You will be respected.

There was a Black Lives Matter march of a different sort in Omaha yesterday. A group of young black men, dressed in suit coats, dress pants, shirts, ties, shoes, belts, who marched from Joslyn Museum on 24th and Dodge to somewhere downtown/Old Market area. I searched and could not find where, sorry! They have the right idea.

I believe we can all garner more respect when our appearance and demeanor is reflected in our dress, attitude, and actions. There is anger, and right now, although justified, I believe it is out of control. We all need to dial it back a notch or ten and use the anger for constructive dialogue. For it to work, we all need to be on the same page. All of us. Unless we do this soon, I think we’re doomed. And I would hate to see that happen to my country. The greatest country in the world. The United States of America. Let’s learn our real history, even the ugly parts. We need to remember how we’ve been oppressive, immoral, amoral, and committed grave errors for us to not go there again.

We all judge people. We hate to admit it but we do. Be aware and stop yourself from doing it. Especially if they are a lot different than you are. Check your prejudices and comments. About people of color. About policemen. About old people. About young people. I’m trying. Try with me.

Thank you for reading today. I appreciate your support. I’ll be here again tomorrow, as will our grandson Gavin, the dogs, and we’ll see you all then Be Kind. Be Thoughtful. Be Respectful. Wash your hands. Wear your mask. Stay outside.