Dear Diary,
One of my most favorite books to read as a child was, "The Secret Garden." I was even more excited when we got to read it in elementary school... and again, when I found out that we would be using class time to watch the video (yes, on VHS)... and even MORE excited to hear that included with the video was a dainty silver locket.
There was a catch, though... it only came with one locket, but there were more than twenty students in each class. The prize needed to be given away fairly, so one of the teachers mentioned writing names on slips of paper, leaving the outcome to chance. But my heart was set on that little necklace and I didn't like those odds. I had to do something about it.
So, generally-shy little me worked up the nerve to raise my hand and suggest a different idea: a trivia competition. We would all be quizzed about the book, and the winner would keep the locket. "Plus, it'll save paper from being wasted." I was determined.
The odds were much better now and I knew the book from cover to cover.
I also knew exactly what I wanted to do with the locket when I won it. Not "if"... "when".
And I did.
I remember racing home from the bus with my shiny new treasure, digging out photos I'd been collecting, measuring the space I needed to fill, and getting to work.
It was perfect. I wore it to school every day after that for the longest time.
Fast-forward more than twenty years... tonight, my oldest sister, Jenn, walked up to me with a smirk while I was rocking Norah to sleep.
"Close your eyes and open your hand..."
"Is it a bug? I swear Jenn, if it's something alive again, I'm going to get you back!"
"No, it's not... trust me. You'll like this one."
And I did.
I knew from first sight what it was because I remembered how hard I worked to get it. You don't easily forget something like that. And I knew what was inside because it took quite a while to find pictures with the proper cutable dimensions to fit ... this was back when you had to wait days or weeks for photos to be developed from rolls of film, back when the concept of "one-hour photo" was a myth for us common folk, and back when you couldn't just press a button to print whatever size image you needed.
I was sentimental even as a kid... and look where we are now... same boy, same girl... only now, with a family of our own.
Sincerely,
me.
Tag: faith
11 July 2021: I got baptized in the ocean.
Dear Mom, I'm getting baptized tonight at the beach. I never really told anyone, but it's always been a special dream of mine... to get baptized in the ocean... it's happening! I remember being baptized when I was 8... and although I meant it with my whole heart then, nervously pinching my nose in the pool-- anticipating Pastor Angelo tipping me back into the water... so much has happened since that day in my imperfect-but-perpetually-forgiven life...my skittish mind... my changeable heart... and while God has been with me every moment since... every step of the way... even the times I've strayed and put my trust in myself instead of Him, or in my own thoughts... my own understanding... my own strength... He's held onto me and never let me go... I need to show Him that I'm holding on this time too... all in. ♡ I know you'll be there. Thank you for teaching me how to talk to Jesus when I was a little girl. Both you and Dad. We have a lot to catch up on, but until then... I still miss you so much, Mom. Love always, "Pookie"
6 May 2021: I looked up.
Dear Mom, The morning started off normal enough. Fed the baby, helped Aria get ready for school and to the bus on time, strapped Norah into her car seat, made sure Machaela didn't forget anything, and started the car. Your Van Morrison CD had been playing for a while, so I switched albums to Lauren Daigle ... the one you introduced me to back in 2019 when I was struggling in the aftermath of life-altering chaos. I pressed shuffle. "Still Rolling Stones" started playing as Machaela buckled her seat belt and made sure she had her mask. She said that she thought it would be a great song to sing for the next talent show at school. I asked her if she knew what "You're still rolling stones" meant... so we discussed lyrics as we waited for the light to turn green at the intersection. By then, the song "Rescue" came on: I hear you whisper underneath your breath I hear your SOS, your SOS" The light turned green and my foot pressed down on the gas pedal. I will send out an army to find you In the middle of the darkest night Except, there was a car coming from the other way that should've been slowing down; it wasn't. It was running the perpendicular red light while I was driving through the green one. The car stopped just in time. I don't know how it was able to do that as fast as it was charging through the intersection, but it did. "It's true, I will rescue you" ... the song kept playing. And I was reminded exactly how it happened. When I pulled back into the driveway, I parked the car and tears started streaming down my face. I heard a sweet voice singing, "Look Up Child"... and when I did... I saw you there. I miss you, Mom. Love always, "Pookie"
10 April 2021: I heard you.
Dear Mom, The check-in lines at CHS were so long today... the end of Spring Break... I should have realized. I walked through the door and was met with a mass of people seeping out past the outlined stanchions. I didn't have any bags to check since I wasn't catching a flight--I just had to get a gate pass to meet the girls at B4. As I waited in the crowd, a frizzy-haired woman approached the group of us at the end of a clearly-marked line and asked the general public, "Is this line for Southwest?" Not being the one closest to her, I assumed someone else would answer, but when no one did, I chimed in with a simple "Yes" and a smile-- smiles are invisible under masks. She mumbled something about needing to make sure first and, thinking she was going to join the line, I made room. Except, she moved to pass through instead, wheeling her bag behind. It seemed strange. I thought she was looking for this exact line. I shrugged it off-- until she spoke again. As she walked through, without even making eye contact she said, "Cast your cares" and continued on her way. It was unmistakable. My eyes welled with tears. ... Mom? I still had to go through security even though I brought nothing with me... physically, at least. My mind was still cluttered, heavy, and now a bit confused... what was that? Why did she say that to me? There was no context for it... I hadn't said anything to her besides, "Yes." I took off my flip-flops and put them on the conveyor. I couldn't get the stranger's words out of my head... "cast your cares"... just like you'd always say. I stepped through the checkpoint, put my shoes back on, and started walking to the gate where the plane would be letting the girls out shortly... and then I heard it... a very distinct voice singing out. Van Morrison. Your favorite. It was the song, "Jackie Wilson Said"--not one of his most popular ones, but I knew it... it was one you liked to sing while you watered your plants... and despite the airport noise pollution, the lyrics were clear: Ding a ling a ling Ding a ling a ling ding I'm in heaven, I'm in heaven... ... You must've heard my silent cries this morning wishing you were still here. I definitely felt your presence today... and... I'll try... and I know. I miss you, Mom. Love always, "Pookie"
4 April 2021: No Easter bunny this year.
Dear Mom, I didn't make Easter baskets this year. I didn't want to. The girls already have so much--so many lovely things... we've truly all been blessed in so many ways. Aria even said to tell the Easter Bunny that he can skip over our house so that he has extra to share with other kids who might need the surprises more. You'd have been proud. I was. She added that she didn't think Norah Jane would mind either since she's "too little to eat candy and doesn't have any teeth yet". Speaking of the baby, I know there have been a lot of changes since she was born--and although the older two understand the need to share their time with me, I still want to make sure they know that their importance doesn't diminish... their place in my life isn't any less prominent because there's one more to share my triply-expanded heart with. I remember the little notes you'd leave for Jenn, Tris, and I with "token gifts" as you'd call them... and how you always seemed to know how to make a single item mean so much more than any room filled with presents ever could. A musical snow globe... a stuffed giraffe plush that could fit into the palm of my hand... a hand-written letter, or a simple candy cane ornament. It was your heart... the love woven into every aspect of you being our Mom. I thought about it, but I didn't make any Easter baskets this year. Instead, I purchased 2 empty books with delicately decorated pages and penned a letter in each--hopefully the first of many. The girls are growing up so fast and I never want to miss out on our time together... you've taught me how precious it truly is... and how fleeting. I still cherish our letters to each other, me and you... except now, tears accompany the smiles as I read. I miss you, Mom. Love always, "Pookie"
23 February 2021: “It’s showtime.”
Dear Mom, I miss you. We're in the hospital right now... the doctor said, "It's showtime." I know you're here too... your youngest daughter giving birth to her youngest daughter... but I still wish you were here. I love this picture of us together right after I was born. ♡ They made me take off the necklace you gave me, but I still have it with me. I love you Mom. I can't wait to tell you all about it. We'll talk more later... but for now, it's showtime. ♡ Love always, "Pookie"
1 February 2021: I broke down.
Dear Mom, I'm missing you so darn much today... even worse the closer and closer it gets to your youngest granddaughter being here. They say babies can hear in the womb, so I've been trying to 'teach' Norah her name, talking to her, reading to her, and singing to her... just a few more weeks to go yet--if she can even stay in that long... she's really trying to make her debut early like I did. I started singing her the "Norah" version of the "Pookie Pie" lullaby you wrote for me as a baby... and then customized for each of your grandchildren... I could almost hear you singing it with me... I remember as a child how soothing it was (even though you'd always make fun of your own voice)... and when you rocked Machaela to sleep with the very same lullaby... Aria too... I still have little video clips of those precious moments safely tucked away in my memories... I broke down. I couldn't even finish the song. I'm sorry. I miss you so much I can't stand it. Love always, "Pookie" --- Pookie Pie lullaby Little one, don't you cry Mommy loves Pookie Daddy does too Jenny does Trissy does Grammy and Nana do We all love Pookie, Pookie too. --- ...you made sure we never felt unloved.
19 January 2021: I’m gonna swing from the chandelier.
Dear Mom, It's almost been 4 months since you left and although I haven't been writing as much, I haven't been thinking about you any less... and your absence hasn't been hurting any less either. I think it actually aches more the closer it gets to the baby being here... because you're not. And you were so excited about her making her debut on/around your birthday, too. I hope she does... wouldn't that be something? You already know what she looks like, don't you? What color her hair will be... her eyes... the curve of her smile... will she be happy? I worry that all of the sadness I've felt with her growing inside of me... all of the missing you... somehow makes her sad too... like she'll be less content because of my mourning or that my grief passes through to her just like the nutrients from the foods that I eat. I don't want to give her anything but joy. I know it sounds silly, but you always understood my thoughts when no one else could make any sense of them. I miss that. So many of our family members and friends have been reaching out with kindness, love, and encouragement the past months... they're so wonderful and I feel like I must be so ungrateful sometimes because despite everyone's best efforts, there's still that heartbreaking ache in my life without you. It's always there. I just want my Mom back. I still try to call you. I've still even gone to message you one time when Dad was signed into your account to change your cover photo for you. It didn't even occur to me that it wasn't you... as if my mind hadn't processed the full extent of loss yet, or that my heart's acknowledgment reverted back to temporary subconscious denial somehow. I know it's comforting for him to see your memories. He needs that. But it still hasn't sunk in... the past tense of it all. The realization that all of the memories that I have of you are all of the ones I will ever have. I wish we made more. I went to change my ringtone today... to a calmer one... and as I was going down the list, the tracks automatically start playing a preview of the clip... Jordan Smith's version of "Chandelier" from The Voice started chiming out and I absolutely broke down remembering the time we listened to that song on repeat for probably about three days or so, driving Dad a little bit crazy... but it was our thing.
I’m gonna swing from the chandelier
From the chandelier
I’m gonna live like tomorrow doesn’t exist
Like it doesn’t exist
I’m gonna fly like a bird through the night
Feel my tears as they dry
I’m gonna swing from the chandelier
From the chandelier
But I’m holding on for dear life
Won’t look down, won’t open my eyes
Keep my glass full until morning light
‘Cause I’m just holding on for tonight
Help me, I’m holding on for dear life
Won’t look down, won’t open my eyes
Keep my glass full until morning light
‘Cause I’m just holding on for tonight, on for tonight
We joked about how silly it would look to have people swinging from chandeliers and added it to our bucket lists... to swing from chandeliers while singing "Chandelier"... so I turned it into a ringtone for you, but it was eventually replaced by "The Goldbergs" theme song... our show. The girls walked into the room as I sat there next to the pile of clean laundry I meant to fold, sobbing over the song playing... they knew I was crying because I miss you... they miss you too... so much. "It's okay, Mom... we know you miss her. We miss Nonnie too." I know that you felt bad about the past year... not feeling well enough to do as much as you wanted to with them, or take them to as many places as you'd have liked... I know you worried about the way they'd remember their time with you... but you shouldn't have. Those girls adore you and remember so many wonderful thoughts, jokes, snuggles, and lessons you shared with them. We really were so blessed to have you in our lives... I just ache for the impossibility of more time with you on this side of forever. I miss you, Mom. We all do. Love always, "Pookie"
21 November 2020: It’s the big day.
Dear Mom, I broke down last night when Trissy surprised me with a few special gifts you had been working on together specifically for the night before our wedding... including another Montgomery Moose... like the one you sent with me to school in first grade because you couldn't be there and I was nervous... like the very same one we tucked into your casket with you less than two months ago so you wouldn't be scared about being alone. For as wonderful as today is... and for as happy as I am... it also still hurts. I'll tell you more about everything later... 4 o'clock waits for no one. I bet you'll be beautiful, too. I can't wait. I miss you, Mom. We all do. So much. Love always, "Pookie"
16 November 2020: I was alone.
Dear Mom,
Today is the first day I find myself actually alone since you’ve been gone.
I thought I’d be handling it better.
That seems to be the case a lot lately, actually… the thinking I’d handle something better than I actually do.
I heard an ice cream truck drive by and remembered the days at Grammy’s house on Hayes Street when we’d play “My Car, Your Car” and see the ice cream truck moseying along.
Sometimes we’d have leftover pocket change from the corner store for a treat… or Grammy would slip us each a few coins to go pick something out if we’d been well behaved.
I’d usually choose the red, white, and blue popsicle… or the flavor-of-the-week ice cream shaped like a random popular cartoon character.
I told myself that if I heard the ice cream truck go by again today, I’d go outside and choose something–even if it seemed weird that I didn’t have any children with me.
But I didn’t anticipate reaction time for the current situation of how long it takes me to waddle around with a baby bump… and before I could get to the door, the familiar song had already faded off down the street.
Yeah, I teared up. Over ice cream I wasn’t even hungry for… or perhaps it was over a few memories I couldn’t get back.
I went to call you today… so many times… to update you about Aria’s first day back to school since before the pandemic… to talk about the weekend… to see how you’re doing and if you and Dad still get to sit up on the deck and watch the birds at the feeders with Ranger leaping around energetically, scaring them away… and when I couldn’t, I cried for that too.
I thought I’d be doing better today, but it seems like I keep getting choked up over the little things all connecting back to this massive crevice in my heart without you here.
So far it’s been a missed ice cream truck, a knitted baby blanket in the wrong shape… again, a gas tank, a plastic cup in the driveway, incomplete calls, and so many thoughts cascading through my mind without anywhere to land.
I’ve never missed anyone so much, Mom.
Love always,
“Pookie”
Kaleidoscopic Grace 