My blog is like a lot of other things in my life, only halfway invested in.  I start something and then I loose steam for various reasons and find myself back in my own little corner.

I had lunch with my son today.  He's created a mess with his car insurance; ignoring the notices that said it was time to pay up.  My husband told him a million times that he would pay it for him and yet...my son ignored it.  So the DMV will take his license and his tags if he doesn't have insurance and my husband said he was done offering his help.  Enter Mom, me, pushover queen.  I got on the phone and paid the insurance and arranged for the form that has to done because I can't have him loose his car and then his job.

He wants to live at home so he will have money to "have fun".  I told him that the prodigal son returned home when he was ready to accept the life his father had for him.  Not because he wanted to have more "fun".

I know my son is an addict; whether to drugs or alcohol.  And at the moment, being high on substances is how he wants to live.  Day by day and bit by bit I am letting go of my hopes for him.  I am letting go of my addiction to "helping" him. 

These two ladies walking on the beach are two of my daddy's three sisters.  My brother and I ran into them one Saturday many years ago as he and I were walking on the pier.  We spotted them and stopped to talk.  I snapped this picture as they walked off toward their cottage.

 

The woman on the right is Aunt Iris.  She died in November 2009 at the age of 83.  She was, in my mind, a true southern lady.  She dressed well, spoke beautifully and had a passion for the beach.  I didn't know her very well although she occasionally would stop by the house and visit with my daddy.

Aunt Iris, daddy and Uncle J

The other is my Aunt Mary.  For many years her family called her Pee Wee because of her stature.  She is a tiny little dynamo with a bawdy sense of humour.   Her husband died of tuberculosis when she was pregnant with their third child.  She worked long hours and never dated.   When all of her children were on their own, she met a urologist who courted and married her.  She announced that she was no longer Pee Wee:  she was Mary.  Her new husband promised her she'd never have to work again.  They traveled regularly in their Winnebago and had the time of their lives.

In recent years, Aunt Mary developed ovarian cancer.  She lost her beautiful white hair and wears lovely hats that coordinate with her cane, which she uses because of the intense pain in her hip.  At 84, she still drives; a frightening thing to witness.  On Tuesday morning, July 5, she had gotten in her car to drive herself someplace, sending her 91 year old husband into the house out of the oppressive heat.  An hour later, he happened to look out the kitchen window and he spied her sitting in the car struggling to open the door.  No one is sure if she ever left the yard or not.  Her keys were in her lap; her things on the seat beside her.  She had suffered a massive stroke.

I talked with my Uncle J on the phone today to ask him how my aunt is doing.  His voice was thick with tears as he said: "She can't move her whole right side.  She can't speak and you know, Mary always has something she wants to say and it just hurts me to think she can't say what she wants to say.  I've been thinking about the ten of us and when Mary goes, I'll be all that's left.  Who will I call?  I always call Mary when I can't remember how a thing goes or who somebody is."

It feels like sorrow is just rolling over my daddy's family.  Then Aunt Mary's granddaughter, who was due in mid-August with her first child , Aunt Mary's first great-grandchild, had complications and was induced.  She gave birth last night to a tiny, but healthy, baby girl. 

Someone coming and someone going. 




 

Daddy's memorial

Somewhere I read:  A mother is only as happy as her unhappiest child.  I'm finding that phrase to be true in my own life.  I'm trying hard to enjoy my home and family and friends, but always there is a film-sometimes darker than others-a film of sorrow, worry, and grief.  I think it must be like this when you've lost a child to death; always part of you unavailable for life.

I think it is important for me to be thankful that my son is alive.  Every day that he is alive I can have hope that God will pull him from the abyss of addiction that he dwells in.

I had a phone call from my oldest son whose living in California trying to "make it" as an actor.  He asked me to pray for him that he would get some money or acting work.  I don't know whether to be happy or sad over that request.  He's made it clear that he isn't buying into Jesus and he isn't 100 percent on God.  I think that he thinks that he can live off of my faith as a kind of insurance policy.   Asking me to pray doesn't take any commitment on his part and who knows, maybe God will answer.
I recognize in my son the idea that God can't possibly help me do what I want to do for ME-God only helps people accomplish things that are noble and good.  This idea has kept me from pursuing many of my own interests, even though I don't do anything noble or good in their stead.   I refuse to live abundantly because how I want to spend my time seems frivolous.

I think I better pray for both of us to accept God's blessings and encouragement.

May 10, 1981,  thirty years ago, I wedded a man I'd known only ten months.  Aside from the month we met, ours was a relationship conducted long distance.  He was in Maryland and I was in college in North Carolina.  It's amazing when I think about it now.  I would advise my girls against such a hasty endeavor and yet,  it was the best decision of my young life. 

This past week has been chilly and rainy and my mood has matched.  My body has been stiff and achy and I have gotten out of bed at 5:30 am to take my baby to the bus and returned home to crawl right back under the covers for a few more hours.
My mama is losing her job.  At 72, it's no big surprise and yet, she is not prepared.  For three days I've been on the phone with my oldest brother listening to him panic about what's going to happen or not happen, with mama.   He's going to have to sell his cabin and he's having troubles with his partner.  He's teetering on the edge and mama is looking to him to make sure her life stays the same-or so he thinks. All this talk about mama brings to the fore my own stuffed down anger with my mama and that leads to daddy;  then to daddy's wife.  Before I know it,  I'm just plain old mad and depressed.
The rainy days, dreary mood and conversations with him have raked up lots of negative nastys.  I need the respite of a good hour or so with the Lord.  I need to get back to my time with Him.  I laid aside my bible, bible studies and church when daddy died.  It felt like too much effort to seek God out.  I feel the weight of all my circumstances falling only on me.   I've had too much of the rain and as always, God sends the sun.  He calls me back.  He reminds me that He's there holding the umbrella and handing out rain boots.

Baby Days

For my birthday this year my hubby gave me a Wolverine. It's a handy little thing that I can scan negatives with and get digital info.  Faster and easier than scanning photos but still time consuming. I have what seems like millions of negatives so even though I scanned negatives for hours this week, I've barely scratched the surface. Here are some of when my children were babies. Makes the mama very nostalgic!



My firstborn




Our little family




My middle two-best buddies



Our baby



Hubby with his two boys



Sisters