SMASH!!

This charming photo shows what I woke up to the Sunday morning after the Landers Cousins Christmas Party. I was pissed. Fuming. Cursed every cousin I possess. Sweet Bard, hungover and sore from sleeping on the basement floor, help me right the tree, throw all the broken ornaments away, put the undamaged ones back on, set the soaking wet presents off to the side and begin to vacuum. Ten seconds into the vacuuming, SMASH! It fell again.

Later, I got the whole story. It fell on Zach as he slept on the living room floor. He righted it and went to the couch. Later as John slept on the floor, it fell again. He put it back. When Chip came up to bed it was down for the count again, HE stood it back up. So when I came down in the morning, it was already the fourth time it had fallen. And then there was number five after the vacuuming. The tree was not meant to be upright.

Many years ago I bought, with a gift card from Pier One, a set of two gorgeous serving platters. They are my favorite dishes I have. Oblong and ovalish, deep red, one was small, the other large. Before going to bed on party night, I cleaned all the dishes. I set all the clean dishes on a dish towel, on the counter to dry. Some leaning against one another, precariously placed, in order for them all to fit.

The morning of the tree disaster, I walked into the kitchen, past the leaning tower of clean dish, and brushed against the larger of the two beautiful serving platters. SHATTER!!! A million pieces. Ok, not a million, but still. That's what it FELT like in my heart. I don't have very many NICE things. Now I have even less.

The day was not going well at all. And it was annual Hanna, Mom, Sara cookie and peanut butter ball baking day. So I cleaned up the dish, cried a little, got a consoling and warm hug from Chip, and Hanna and I left for Mom's house.

We stopped at CVS on the way. When we came out of CVS, I turned on the van and the oil light was on. I turned it off. I opened the hood. The inside was a blood bath of oil, coating every engine part there was and a giant pool of motor OOL under my car. We went inside to purchase oil. CVS, as it were, does not sell oil. Dad came to the rescue with a quart and a half of oil. He tightened up the filter thingy that men know how to do, poured the new oil in and I gave it a go. Started her up. MOUNT VESUVIUS!!! The oil erupted everywhere making the pool turn into a streaming river, as this parking lot is a slight downhill. Some fancily dressed folks were just coming to get into their car parked next to my explosion and I shouted, HURRY UP!! GET IN YOUR CAR!! FLEE!! It's coming for you!!! They laughed a little, saw the river of penzoil coming their way and scampered!

Dad took us to mom's. I was not in the mood for baking anything, although I could have done with shoving copious amounts of chocolate into my piehole, it's soothing you know. My poor wonderful patient mother, coaxed my bitchy pitying mood off to the side and put up with me for about eight hours. I arranged for a tow and they said I should be at the CVS to meet the driver at 8am on Monday.

Monday morning, 7:04, the tow company calls and says the driver is nearly there and am I there yet and he will not wait if I'm not. I may have told tow truck company man that, that was a really shitty thing to do to someone who's already in a bad place because of having a broken down vehicle with Oil Lake under it and now I'm gonna miss the tow because some incompetent can't schedule anything right and WHAT THE HELL MAN????

Amazingly, he did not hang up on me, but quieted. Softly told me, I know ma'am. It sucks. I'm sorry. But I have 60 tow jobs waiting and my driver can't be held up. Chip came to the rescue and raced me over to CVS and then took Hanna to school.

This was just too much. My poor tree and my poor dish and my poor van and poor me. I was having a serious pity party. I came home with a rental car a while later and had a nice long cry. And then I got the mail. In one envelope was a card with a beautiful fiery red ornament embossed with gold, with golden writing, For my Daughter....

The thought that my mom had to go to the store and buy only one of these cards, and that standing in the daughter section of cards did not undo her, brought me back to reality. She could have forgone the card. She had gifts to give to me. She made us brunch. She didn't need to do the card. I can't imagine the feeling of going, for over twenty years to the store, and buying TWO daughter christmas cards, and then one year, suddenly, there is only one to buy for. And she probably looked through many cards. Read the sweet wonderful words on the insides of them. Thought which ones would have been good for Kate. Felt a crack in the place that was already so frail....and still....she got one for me.

Has there ever been a more wonderful person in this world? I don't think so. Smashed trees and broken dishes and exploding cars are nothing. All repairable. It sucks. It doesn't mean I can't have a good cry when all those things happen on the same day. But then Donna puts it in perspective, and I can get the pep back in my step, leave the pity behind, and be grateful for all the GOOD.

Regret

Regret is a killer. It will drain you, punish you and haunt you. I think one of the reasons why I have been dealing with my loss at what I consider to be a "normal" and healthy rate is that I have worked hard to let go of regret.

I recently had a conversation with my mom about regret. I can't pretend to understand what it feels like to lose a daughter, and I can't say I'd be able to let go of regret, or anything, if that ever happened to me. But I wanted to try to help her rationalize and conquer some of it. I don't know if anything I said helped but I thought about it a lot after, and this is what I've come up with.

No one is perfect. Even in very strong, healthy relationships, we all irk each other to some degree. We get past those things that bother us about each other because we love each other. We all knew that there were tons of things we did, during the course of Kate's life, that annoyed her. That bothered her. That hurt her. (Ever been on the receiving end of a kaboom? Yeah! Katie Kaboom! We KNEW if she was pissed lol)

But I truly believe that in the end, when she kept saying, "Everything is Perfect", that she REALLY TRULY meant it. She FELT it. And for a long time I was just in so much awe of her (and still am!) that she could possibly say that, when she had tubes and bags hanging off of her and she weighed less than just one of my thighs and she was facing the end of her life here on earth.

But after I had the regret conversation and then thought it out, I think that one of the big reasons she felt that everything was perfect was because she let go of her regret. When we were kids, I was the big mean older sister. That's not to say that we never had fun together because we had a BLAST. But I don't think that during her illness, she ever thought of the bad stuff, even once. And I think that about each person that she loved, and loved her. We have all hurt her, because we are human. But she let go of ALL of her hurt.

We showed her so much love and commitment and did everything possible to show her how much she meant to us, I don't think there was room left in her brain, or heart, to regret anything. So for mom, and anyone who knew and loved Kate, who still has feelings of regret.....I should have done this, said this, been there for this....I think you are punishing yourself in a way that Katie NEVER would have done. I don't think for one second that anything you are telling yourself you should have done or shouldn't have done, crossed Kate's mind. She was LOVED. She was GRATEFUL. She was at PEACE. And I know, without a doubt, she would only want peace and comfort, for your heart as well.

Your Perfect Day

I've been thinking a lot lately about having the perfect day. I think I'd like to have one soon. Yeah.

And it's hard to think of this because you could really go all crazy when I say "perfect" and jet off to Italy with Johnny Depp while wearing a size 6 dress. I mean....some people might consider that a perfect day. And then others might limit it too much, like strictly base the perfect day realistically on a small income (this writer) and limited time (this writer).

So I want to find the gray and the perfect day. Assuming you have just a moderate amount of money, taking into consideration that there are only about 16-20 waking hours in this day, and you don't gain any special talents or lose massive amounts of weight (or whatever your TRUE fantasy might be)....what would be your perfect day??

This proved harder that I thought because there are so many things I enjoy doing, and there aren't enough hours in the day to fit them all in! I'd like to walk through Manhattan with my mom, that would be as close to perfect as you could get. I'd want to sit on the couch with Asha and Einav and drink and laugh like 5 year olds until we couldn't breath. I'd want to spend the entire day in my pajamas with Hanna and Chip, eating junk and playing games, never leaving the house. I'd want to be at the Paddock all night, nestled in between all my GG Fam with no drunken people spilling their drinks on me while Bryen and his brothers sing The Used.

This is HARD! But I think a perfect day is in order. So I have to plan it. Realistically.

Obviously perfect is used loosely here because if perfect were real, I'd be spending the day with KTL. But realistically, here is my perfect day:

I'd wake up with no alarm and feel completely rested just as the sun is coming up. Hanna and I would go to Miss Shirley's (no line??) and I'd eat that breakfast sandwich with the fried green tomatoes on it. Then I'd drop Han off and I'd go get an iced coffee from dunkin' donuts with no sugar and extra cream then head to Ukazoo. I'd spend 1-2 hours there and buy enough books to fill my shopping bag all the way up!

I'd go home and drop off the books and Chip and I would take a walk at the Gunpowder, because it would be fall and 65 degrees and gorgeous outside. We'd walk slow and leisurely, we'd try to guess what some of the trees and birds and bugs we saw were and then we'd say we should have brought Dad or Uncle Jody and we'd laugh. We'd skip rocks.

We'd get back to the car and Chip would say that he's taking me out for a late lunch. I can't tell you where we go because I don't know. I don't decide. He just takes me there. And wherever it is, I love it  :)

We take the long way home and he lets me be dj for the drive. I think I probably play some Journey because I'm feeling extra smitten.

We pick Han up and we go to my parents house. My parents and Eric and Becki and JP and Neen and Mary Jo and Kellie are there. We play Apples to Apples and Catch Phrase and Mad Gab. We eat together. It doesn't matter what but I think maybe either some vermouth grilled chicken and ratatouille or possibly Thai carryout. And then Han goes upstairs to pass out because she's tired and this is the perfect day and we (ALL OF US), smoke a J.

Perfect. Day.

What's yours??

Sybil

So apparently there is this other phase of grieving that kubler -ross and all those other professionals forgot to mention. It's the multiple personality-schizophrenia-psychotic-crazy person phase. And I'm smack dab in the middle of it. Fun!

I have become a scary person. I mean really, I'm afraid of myself even. I drive A LOT for work. About 800-1000 miles a week. So there is a crapload of time I'm in the van, contemplating. Brewing. Crying. Seething. Eating. Nail biting. Laughing. Crying. Eating.

I keep thinking: ok God, or mother nature, or shiva, or whoever's in charge...enough is enough. Kate's been gone long enough. Joke's over. Let's bring her on back now, K? And i just can't FATHOM it. It's like trying to wrap your head around infinity or a quark or something else you just cannot possibly grasp. She can't really be GONE. Like...forever, gone.


And then my brain says, yes, she can. And she is. And I can't stand it. The unfairness of it and the sadness of it are too much. And I try to shove it all down because now I'm at my call and I have to go in this bank and drill something open (yes, yes it does help. a lot). and i need to fill out the form but i'm getting tears on it and they are paging me and i don't want to be here and i can't find a goddamn mother effing PEN!!!!!!!! And I think I might gouge my eyes out for lack of a pen!! seriously. It nearly undid me.


And I find the pen and fill out the form and go cause minor destruction on something in a bank. And I come outside and it's such a beautiful day and the sun is gorgeous and shining and that sweet little old man held the door for me and what could possibly be wrong in this world? I could sing! And my mouth is curving up into a smile and I feel that general sense of well being starting to flow....wait. NO, no.I can't be smiling! I can't be HAPPY. WHAT is WRONG with me??? How dare I? This isn't a time for happiness! And I'm so ashamed of my good feeling I get the eye gouge-y urge again.


This just repeats...over, and over....all day, everyday. And I'm tired. I'm tired of being sad. I'm tired of being angry and mean and I'm tired of feeling guilty for when I don't feel sad and angry and mean. So I think about Kate. And that stupid jerk face GRAY. And I realize, that's where my peace is hiding. In the gray. I don't have to be sad or devastated or angry every second of the day to still honor Kate's memory. And I don't have to fake like it's all ok and be happy, genuinely or not, all the time either.


It's ok to still be sad and get angry, and it's also ok to be happy and good with the world, even if it IS missing one of the greatest to ever live in it. So while I may not have reached the acceptance phase, I have reached acceptance of the phase I AM in. Which is why you should all say a prayer for Hanna and Chip. I'm slightly off kilter, and totally fine with it!!

Luck? Nah, it's how you view it

I always tell people that I'm a lucky person. It's true. I am.  I have an amazing family, a kick ass, fun,awesome best friend, a gorgeous intelligent wonderful daughter and a drop dead sexy, thoughtful, fantastic man.

But I also believe that my luck has A LOT to do with the way I look at life. When bad things happen, I very rarely, if ever, think, why me? Why NOT me? Bad shit happens to people all the time. I am not immune.

Maybe my good luck is my ability to rationalize, find the logic, see the gray. When crappy stuff happens, I normally start with a conversation like this in my head:

Ah Crap.
This SUCKS!
Is it the end of the world?
no. (said in that belligerent 6 year old boy way, when his mother asks him if he turned out the light in the kitchen and he knows he has to go back in. pronounced more like NO-wah)
Could it have been worse?
OH yeah.
Can I change it?
Nope.
So, Let it go.
Done!

It works a ridiculous amount of the time. Because I believe in choosing your battles. There are things that happen in my life that I can't just "let go". When husbands leave you for another woman, you don't just "let it go" (although coming up with creative and destructive ways of revenge is VERY theraputic). When sisters die, you definitely don't just "let it go".

But I found that I have the emotional energy needed to cope with the big stuff because I don't sweat the small stuff. road rage? no thanks, takes too much energy and it's for nothing. Pissing and moaning about stupid things that people say and do at work? I may vent to a few of you poor souls for a bit, but then I'm done.

I can't remember a time when I have ever used the phrase (is it really a phrase??): FML.

There's something good that comes out of nearly everything. You just have to look for it, be ready, find it.
And if you're one of those people who has a long list of things you'd like to share, about all the horrible bad, not-let-go-able things that have happened in your life, I challenge you.

1. Find someone who has it way and obviously worse and put yourself in their shoes.
2. Try it. Just for a few days. Be an endless optimist. Smile when you feel like crying. Compliment someone. Be GRATEFUL. Do something philanthropic anonymously. Enjoy the full moon. Say you're sorry and mean it. Tell your loved ones that you love them every day.
3. Create your own luck, find the lesson or the good that comes out of the bad, and ALWAYS look for the gray.





PS-enjoying "special" pizza like kate and I did, helps :-)

Taking my own advice

Those of you who know me, know that I am always preaching about the gray. Find the gray! I could name at least two people who, right this second, are making a gagging sound and rolling their eyes even as their subconscious hears me type those words. I can't help it. I think it could solve all the world's problems. People are way too "all or nothing". Black and White. I prefer the middle.

Today is the sixth day after my sister Katie passed away. I had a sad dream about her last night and I'm having a sad morning. I'm not finding the gray this morning. Some people will cope with death by jumping to one extreme. Get back to work! Throw all the delicious funeral food away! Do cardio for 7 hours! Write every thank you note and embellish each person's handwritten name on the envelope with hearts and curlicues! Honor Kate's memory by volunteering for the SPCA, the NAACP, and the CIA, or whatever the hell other acronym foundation, can get their mind elsewhere.

I, however, have sadly gone to the other extreme. Shower? meh. I did that 4 days ago, why take another so soon? Clean house? That would just cause my body funk to dirty the couch and stand out in a piney fresh house. Write thank you notes? What if I just use words of appreciation in my Words with Friends games that I'm playing all morning while chain smoking in my pajamas on my 9th cup of coffee? Will they count?

So now that my face is all cracky like Joan Rivers when she tries to smile and my night shirt has hardened little patches of snotty salty tears, I think I'll take my own advice and look for that gray.

Kate isn't coming back. But I think she WOULD want me to be clean and happy and sane. Well, I know she would. I told people at her funeral service to honor her memory by loving each other. Everyone always says that you can't love someone else if you don't love yourself. How can I take care of my Hanna and my Chip and my MamaDonna  if I don't take care of me? So I won't do 7 hours of cardio (hahahahahahahahaaaaa!!!!) and I won't go on a caffeine driven house cleaning frenzy. But I'll find the nice middle ground. I'll get in the shower, write a thank you note or two and maybe honor Kate's memory with a game or two of her favorite, Word Mole.