Tuesday, August 30, 2011

waiting for you to look my way

(Christmas 2010 wearing the hat and scarf Naomi made for him)

The day after my eloquent sister finally writes a post not about my significantly missing father, I finally get the courage to do just that... address the hole in the fabric of my life.  Unlike her I do not journal beautiful meaningful things on a daily basis, I am ever afraid to write down the things that run round in my head.  Trust me no one should be subjected to my inner crazy.  And so I pen what I feel now and the pent up moments since January 28th 2011.... already 7 months.

When I come home my parents cottage is physically linked to my home... they build life and memories out my back door, this was a miracle, and anyone who knows my dad knows this.  He said "never" he would never live east of the Mississippi, and he meant it.  It only took a true act of God to get him to come up with the idea, I would not have even for a moment thought to ask him to come.  In November of 2009 his heart refused to pump all that it should and he had men save him from his pizza and coke, but God saved him from his mind... troubled and good as it was.  He woke up from a comma with convictions never spoken before, he awoke anew.  I called his room and he spoke the words "we are coming, save the cottage for us"  I did not believe him, I confirmed with my sister sitting next to him.  I thought it was a phase, a blind moment of post heart surgery crazy.  He knew though... things were different.  And they came.  I have the huge metal wood burning stove in my garage to prove it.

Wayne Allen Leavitt lived in my back yard, he mowed grass ever growing, shoveled snow ever falling and loved kids ever laughing.  He lived in my life.  He drew tree house plans, played guitar and taught cords, set up a leather shop, made memories.  He came with us to dinner at friends... and enjoyed it.  We have a group of friends that we do a family book club with and he and mom read a Christmas carol with us and marveled at the way our children learn.  He read with Ellie, taught drafting with Connor and took Naomi to eat bagels and work on a book together.  We listened to music, watched movies and ate meals together.  He worked in the Temple with mom.   He made things magic like I knew he would.

One night while Greg and my mom were out of town I went out on a girls night out with some friends, I called dad at 11pm and asked if he had seen "the Devil" is it too scary I asked, no he said "have fun".  I watched that movie... and it was. SCARY.  When I came home in the early hours of the morning, nervous like a little girl, there was my house... all lit up inside, inviting.  He came out to meet me and put his arm around me, he waited up for me like I was still his little girl. And I am, and he took care of me.
He got me coke when I was grouchy and needed one.  We went to lunch and discussed things like friends, things he needed to work out.  He and mom became peaceful together.  He healed here... in my back yard.

He healed in so many ways, even his heart...  the heart of the spirit.  The heart of his body was still working its way toward leaving us.  We ate split pea soup on Thursday, he spilled his glass of water and blamed Connor on the other end of the table, we laughed.  He wore his blue Mr Rogers sweater and stood in the entry and said goodnight to us.  It was our last goodnight. He went to bed with her.. a rare thing for a man with an owl's disposition, they held hands and he said he loved her.  It was her last I love you. 

My phone rang while I was deep in the place of dreams, yet I woke.  Mom was yelling his name... I knew.  I screamed for Greg to wake and follow, we ran bare foot through the snow to the cottage.  My hands in trying to save this man broke the bones I so recently hugged.  My hands.  He started to breath and I thought this means life, we have given him life. But God gives life, and his was to be over.  I did not know this yet and my mom and I followed the flashing lights.  When they told us, I asked... and I meant it "are you sure? Can you check again, I just saw him... he was breathing."  No they tell us, we are sorry.

When seeing someone who has filled your life with love, anger and joy  for the last time,  you might think it would be quiet... My mom talked to him, and told him of her ever faithful love.  I laughed at the scratches on his huge strong hands from him provoking the cat.  My hands trembled as I touched his for the last time.  Greg stood and watched us say goodbye. 

It was a goodbye to his physical presence in my life.  But not a goodbye in the long run.  Things have been hard.  My mind wanders to the running of bare feet far to often.  My body thinks it is ailing from every harm possible, my heart beats to fast and I worry.  Naomi misses him with an ache I can not alter. Connor longs to fish with him.  Ellie wears his Mr Roger sweater to ease the hurting.  Nanna talks to him to work things out. Greg is a rock for two women now.

I know where he is... he has come to me to help me in so many ways.  Real ways.  He has spoken and I have heard.  This I can hold forever and know that my Father... my Dad.... is OK.

Monday, December 20, 2010

Ellie Rose
What I enjoy the most about Ellie is also probably the most difficult thing about her. She refuses to be pushed into anything. When she says no, it is doubtful that it will become yes. She is a quiet breath of fresh air in a world that is constantly trying to conform to a norm that simply does not matter or exists for her. I enjoy hearing her speak as though she is a scholar and at the same time does not like to read a word. (oh she reads, but only when SHE decides it would be nice to do so.)
Ellie does not want to impress me.
She wants to be who she is for me.
And I try to drink in every moment, who knows how long until the world matters and she slips into doing things for status quo. If I could I would have her be this strong forever.

Thursday, January 14, 2010

how to have 'quality' time...

Today while tooling around in the car, an add on the radio announced that I could indeed have "more quality time with my children" if I had some kind of expensive strange hair removal...... because I would no longer need to spend so much time in the shower shaving..... REALLY?!?!?

I can't believe I did not know this! How could I have missed it?

My kids where laughing so hard there was spittle flying about...

Naomi "Oh mom, if only you didn't spend sooooo much time shaving your hairy arm pits!"

Connor "Yes, then we would feel like you truly LOVED us!!"

Ellie rolling her eyes and sticking her tongue through the gap where her big girl teeth are coming in all too quick.... "hehehehe you shave hair in your arm pits?!? hehehehehehehe" eye roll... more lizard tongue movements, head bobbing from side to side... (the picture of crazy town!)

Oh man, they crack me up!
This is why I have kids.
This is sooooooo why we homeschool!
(Do I really want to expose this kind of fun to the world at large?)
And I obviously need to consider all my options in hair removal, because clearly I need more 'quality' time with this bunch!

Tuesday, January 5, 2010

"Snap" a portrait of a daughter.

My own mothers fingers were intertwined within the strands of my grown up 'lady' locks.
The hair her hands had braided a hundred times over the years.
Safety in her hands, love in her words, warmth in the visit.
I confessed not feeling well.
She smiled.
My sister snapped a photo at that very moment. It is framed on my walls forever more.
My head bowed, being plaited for the day, my mothers smile as she considered my confession. "snap" and everything changed.
Greg and I rushed to the drug store.
And then there was Naomi.
Lovely Naomi, the baby even the Doctor gasped at.
It was a struggle to bring her in, everything said no in my body. no no no.
But my mind, my heart, my love said yes. and never looked back.
Greg held my hair back when I was forever leaning over white porcelain.
reading doctor Seuss books to distract her from my moaning.
We sang to her, and when they said she was breach ~
we played Neil Young way down low and she turned just like the good baby she was.
When the water rushed, she woke me and told me first...
It's just the kinda girl she is.
The day we drove home with her, I felt like we had something breakable in back.
The first night home....... she slept.
Late in the night I came down stairs, crawled up next to my own mother and I cried.
I cried for all that could be, could happen, will happen.
I cried for the hurt. The pain, the boys, the friends... all of it.
The uncertainty in life, the questions, the searching she would do.

And then I prayed. And I Knew.
Knew she would face this life, head on.
She would hurt, feel, love, win, lose.... all of it.
And I knew that Greg and I would give her our all.
The good the bad and the ugly... all of it.
And she would come out knowing her God.
All of Him.

Today she is 12... and so far...
Well, what can I say? Its just the kind of young lady she is.

Friday, January 1, 2010

Setting the 'proverbial' clock

I find that I have never been able to accomplish the elusive adage, "early to bed early to rise makes a man healthy wealthy and wise." I am neither healthy, monetarily wealthy (though I feel sufficient) and most would just laugh at the 'wise'. (I say this because every public dining experience I have ever had with my siblings and parents as an adult has gone something like.... "Aubrey, shhhh, stop it! Did you really just say that?.. eye roll, laugh, cough, no really, honestly be quieter!" and somehow this has never felt like I fell into the wise category.) And yet this quote goes through my head like many others do.. a lot.

I desire to know how it feels to slumber in the actual slumbering hours. To rise when my husband does (dawn) and maybe even prepare breakfast, something other than cold cereal.

I long to put my children to bed at sane hours (that make me feel like I am running the show) and bring their darling heads off pillows at reasonable times that others would not scoff at. I do, I really do. And some how this eludes me, it always has. It started in the teen years and never rubbed off. I blame the bird in me. Damn the night owl and his ways.

To this end I begin my only new year's constancy, fortitude, DECLARATION if you will. Because clearly if I accomplish this one, I have accomplished them all: health, wealth and wisdom, no less. So tomorrow I dive in. I am setting an actual alarm. ON MY SIDE OF THE BED (cringe)for the wee hour of 6:30. I will go to bed by no later than, oh good grief I don't know what is reasonable, 10:30. We will do this all month. It is set in stone, or rather, Internet script.

And my kids? They have no idea what is coming, but they will find the dream state earlier than usual as well. That being a firm? (shaky weak fingers type this) I am so new to this... no later than????? 8:00?!? ahhhhhh! I must breath, breath and begin this new year, with its perfect plan, the setting of the proverbial clock.