in memoriam.

My grandfather was a flawed man. I know that.

He never painted himself a saint, and that might be one of the things I admired most about him. He knew he had made mistakes in his life, and he changed things, and he taught me that no matter what I do, I can always turn myself around.

My grandfather was a teacher. I experienced that.

He used to bring home scrap wood and let my sister and I make the most ridiculous damn creations out of tin cans and two by fours and for some reason, he trusted us to use hammers and nails and not kill each other. Because of him, I am strong, and independent, and can hang pictures and put together furniture and try to figure out to how fix something myself before I get help.

My grandfather was a packrat. I saw that.

He saved EVERYTHING. The garage at my grandparents house was full of empty bottles and stacks of magazines and an airplane propeller. He kept a lot of things that were probably junk, but he also kept the pictures and poems my sister and I did for him and my grandma. I still have some of them. A lot of times, we'd be in the car heading somewhere, and he'd stop on the side of the road and pick up a stool, or a box of books, or a toy he thought my sister and I might like. And then he'd clean it up, and it was as good as new, and when I was younger, when I wanted the 'latest and greatest', I didn't appreciate it as much as I do now.

My grandfather was a clown. I heard that.

The most common phrase I heard him say was 'Do you believe that fib?' He was always telling a joke or making up a funny story or doing anything he could to get my sister and I to laugh. Part of my inherent goofiness definitely comes from him.

My grandfather was a wise man. I listened to that.

From the time I was just starting to notice boys, he always told me, 'Andrea, don't get married young. Maybe not ever. Men are idiots.' As I got older, the advice changed a bit: 'Andrea, you're a smart young lady and don't settle for someone dumber than you like your grandma did.' Most recently, it was, 'This is my beautiful granddaughter. I hope she finds someone worthy of her.' The advice changed, but the love behind it never wavered.

My grandfather was a romantic. I loved that.

He loved his wife. His Jennie. They were together over fifty years. Fifty years. Does that even happen anymore? You can see in the pictures of them when they were young that they were head over heels in love. And through the years, that love stayed with them. They truly were soulmates. When my grandma died almost seven years ago, I thought for sure we'd lose him soon after.

My grandfather was a loving man. I felt that.

One thing I never doubted was my grandpa's love for me. And for my sister. And my father. And my grandma. He did what he could to make sure that our lives would be just a little bit easier. He gave advice and doled out hugs and always had an extra dollar for some cotton candy if I needed it. He cared so much about his family, even when it was sometimes hidden by silly jokes and a little bit of cantankerousness. He loved us so much.

I feel blessed that I had my grandfather in my life for 29 years. That's a gift that so many others don't get. It makes it harder to say goodbye, but it makes it easier to remember. And I don't believe in much anymore, but I believe with every single fiber of my being that when he left this world this morning, he met my grandma on the way to whatever is waiting for us after this life....and just like when they were both here, their hands just naturally found each other's.

I love you always, Big Kid.

April 4, 1919 - September 26, 2011

The most beautiful smile is the one that struggles through the tears (in memoriam)

Six years ago today, the world lost a hero. A quiet, gentle, reluctant hero, but a hero nonetheless. She may have seemed an ordinary woman to the rest of the world, but to me, she was the woman I strove to become (and still do). Six years ago the world got a little bit darker, but to those of us who knew her, we discovered there are some lights that don't go out.

I wrote this on my grandmother's birthday last May, and I can't think of a better tribute to her memory than sharing it again - than letting people know that this amazing woman lived, and loved, and made me who I am. I miss her often - when something big happens and I can't tell her, or when I make spaghetti from her recipe, or when I glance at one of the pictures I have of her and my grandpa when they were young, or in so many quiet moments when I see a little bit of her in me.
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May 2, 2010
My next tattoo is going to be 'Que sera, sera' in script on my wrist. And it's going to be in memory of my Grandma K, who said that all the time.

Today would be her 92nd birthday.

It's impossible for me to not think about her most of the time, but today especially. There are some people in your life who shape you, who push you, who make you better, and my grandmother was one of those.

Every struggle I've had in my life...every war I've waged, whether it was against myself or others....every thing I've ever tried and failed at and tried again....The part of me that refuses to give up or give in, that refuses to accept limitations, that refuses to surrender...that comes from my grandma. She was a woman who survived anything that came at her. She battled and beat cancer more than once. She stood by her husband and her child and her grandchildren whatever happened. She did everything she could to make sure that her son and his children would have a good life. She looked for the best in people. She looked for the best in life. She was an optimist and she passed that on.

And she was beautiful! In all the ways that mattered, and in many that didn't. She had the kindest eyes I've ever seen. Full of compassion and caring, but with a glint of humor. She was always ready to laugh. Always ready to humor a child by listening to a stammered knock-knock joke, or bumbling story, and laughing her heart out. She could make you feel like the only person in the world she could possibly want to be listening to. She was selfless and funny and generous and loving and big-hearted and a force of nature. She knew when to make you laugh, or when to take you in her arms and comfort you with soft words and hugs. She displayed a stick figure drawing on her refrigerator with the same care as a straight A report card. She would take the time to do whatever it took to make other people happy, whether it was finding the perfect present, or cutting up watermelon into the kind of slices you preferred. She was a great cook and I wish I had cared more when I was younger so I could have learned more from her. I think of all the times I spent at her house, and wish that I had listened a littler harder, paid a little more attention, asked more questions. There is so much I could have discovered, so many things I wish I knew!

Grandma died 5 years ago this past December. It seems like yesterday, and a thousand years ago, all at once. There's not a day of my life that I don't think about her, feel her, discover another part of the influence she had over my life. I was unbelievably blessed to get to spend so much of my time with such an incredible woman. Some of my happiest memories from childhood are the times I spent at my grandparents' house, my sister and I dressing up in stupid outfits, or 'building' things in the backyard, or just sitting at the table coloring with Grandma. She was content with simple pleasures, and the greatest one of those was seeing her son and his children happy and healthy.

It's been over 5 years. And I'm starting to forget some of these things. I'm starting to forget the smile, and the softness, and the easy way she could turn an entire day around. I'm starting to forget the sly look in her eye when she was teasing my grandpa, and the look of her hands as she worked in the kitchen. And that scares me. How could I possibly forget any part of this amazing woman?

But then I look at my dad. And I look at my sister. And I look at myself. And I imagine the sons or daughters I may someday have.
And I realize that no matter how long she has been gone, her legacy will live on. Her touch on our lives will reach into the next generation, and the one after that, and however many come after.

And I know that she'll be looking down on all of us with love in her eyes and a smile that comes from the heart, giving a little push whenever we need it, and being the quiet voice in our heads, reminding us that whatever will be, will be.

I'm bound to thank you for it....(A tribute to the best people in the world)

I generally have all these things in my head on a daily basis, but it's Thanksgiving, and what better time to say it (write it?) out loud? Especially for the people in my life - you don't ever get enough credit. So, on this day of thanks and love, I would like to hopefully give you back something for all the amazing things you've given me.

To my family - While we may be a certifiably insane psychotic completely batshit crazy how the HELL aren't you all institutionalized*quirky* bunch, we are all also fiercely loyal to each other, and while we all may give each other all kinds of grief about just about anything, it's only because we care. I have been incredibly blessed to have the extended family I do - it's made my parents and sister moving over five hundred miles away a little easier. And my parents! Never has the world known two more amazing and supportive people - I know I am biased, but I truly do have the best parents ever. And because of them, I have my big sister, who is my hero and protector and partner in crime and confidant and best friend all in one. Of course, I can't not mention my grandfather who is 91 and will probably still have me cracking up at corny jokes when I see him next month. And I can't forget the ones who've passed on: Grandma K and Grammy and Popu. They played a huge role in shaping the woman I am today.

To my friends - Never has a girl been so lucky to have so many wonderful people in her life. The last year or two has had a lot of ups and downs, and I never would have made it through without my friends. Whether it's the people I've known for twenty years, the soul mate I met in middle school, or the person I met six months ago who quickly turned into one of my best friends, every single one of them has changed my life for the better. Some people I am lucky enough to see every day (and lucky enough to have them keep me sane during long work days), and others close to that often. Others I only see every few months - for some of them, it doesn't matter how much time has passed - we pick up right where we left off. I am so grateful for the co-workers who have turned into friends, and the friends that have turned into family.

I love you guys all so much, and honestly? I wouldn't be here without you. You keep me going, keep me breathing, keep me smiling, and definitely keep me laughing. For all of the times you've let me pass out on your sofa, cry on your shoulder, use you for your ability to lift heavy things, join your family for holidays when I didn't have a place to go...thank you. For installing extra locks on my door, for picking me up when my car was out of commission, for picking up the check when you knew I was low on funds, for taking me out dancing when I needed some cheering up, for telling me I would be okay when I was sure I wouldn't....thank you. For pushing me through some of the hardest times I've faced, for picking me up off the floor when I thought I was done, for giving me a hug and a smile and a word of encouragement, for supporting me and challenging me and saving me....I can never thank you enough. I'd be nothing without you, but with you, I have everything.

Lots of love, and wishes for a wonderful and safe holiday season to all you and yours. 

Some people want to fill the world with silly love songs (An anniversary post)

March 10 - The first date

Two people meet. They’re polar opposites. She comes from a huge family. He’s an only child. She’s outgoing and vivacious. He is introverted and serious. She is creative and he is logical. Her sarcastic streak is legendary. His sincerity can’t be questioned. They share the same silly nature, the same fierce loyalty, the same big-heartedness.

Two people meet. Their differences bring them together. Their chemistry is undeniable. Some people don’t understand it. Some people question them, maybe think they’re moving too fast. Some people think there’s no chance this will last.

Some people didn’t know what they were talking about.

He was dating someone else when they met. Luckily for them (and for my sister and I!) that fizzled out – I like to think fate had a hand in that. In November of 1978, they began a flirtation that would build until they finally went on their first date in March.

May, about a week before getting engaged

Two months and three days after their first date, they got engaged. On May 13, my father asked my mother to spend the rest of her life with him. She forgot to say yes, too swept up in the joy of the moment.

Four months and just over two weeks later, they were married. It was a simple wedding, but the love in the room must have been obvious for anyone to see. They were both glowing – radiant, even.

Several months later, they welcomed their first daughter. Two years and three months after that, they had their second. It was a family that struggled with the things all families deal with, but above everything else, it was a family that loved each other fiercely. It was a home where two little girls grew up seeing what a family could be, and looking forward to the day when they could have their own. It was a home where even though the parents fought sometimes, they never walked away. They cared enough to stick it out. It was a partnership.  

September 28, 1979

Thirty-one years later, they are still madly in love. They still turn to each other when one of their songs comes on the radio, exchanging a secret look. They still call each other by nicknames developed decades ago. They still instinctively grasp hands when walking through the grocery store. They still have their little spats, and they still figure out a way to work through them. They still remember every anniversary – first kiss, first date, the day they got engaged, and of course, the day they said “I do.” They’re still in it. For the long haul.

Two people meet. They take a chance. They start a life.

Thirty-one years later, they’ve raised two daughters. Both of those daughters are strong, and smart, and happy. They both could be accused of being picky – of thinking that no one is good enough for them.

But those two daughters? They know that’s not the case.

October 2008

They just know what love can look like. And they’re not willing to settle. Because for their entire lives, they’ve seen what real love can be. And they won’t stop looking until they find that.

Happy anniversary, Mom and Dad. Thanks for teaching me about love, about life, and about holding out for something spectacular. And thanks for giving me and Sara an example that we can look up to – an example of how while love isn’t always easy, it’s always worth it.

RTT: On being a pansy, but also a badass

• A friend of mine posted this video on Facebook today. I'll admit it, I definitely shed some tears over it at work. It's silly and stupid but it reminds me of high school and watching that movie with good friends and singing that song in my first car, driving around at night and dreaming of a day when I'd find a love like that.

• I try to come off as a badass. I'm a fairly confident woman. I'm independent and fiercely stubborn. If you've been reading me for any length of time, you've seen this. But shit like this? Kills me.

• I think I put all my energy and emotion into songs, and movies, and TV shows, and books, and save nothing for real life. After spending the first twenty-five years or so of my life crying over everything, I'm pretty much done with that.

• That's not to say that I'm a heartless bitch now. I just don't wear my heart out on my sleeve so much anymore.

• But if y'all could actually know everything going on in this messed up little mind of mine? Whew. Let's just say I'm glad you can't.

• Obviously there are a few people who can read me no matter what. My sister is one of them. As is my momma.

• They've also known me twenty-eight years. It's the people who've known me much, much less that worry me. They're the ones who can hurt me. There are a few I can trust not to - those soul friends who are more like family - but it's those people who you've only just met that can really twist a knife in your back.

• Yet lately, I seem to be letting more and more of those people into my life. There are a couple in particular that stick out. And I hope that my gut reaction of trusting them doesn't lead to me getting hurt.

• There's a quote from Grey's Anatomy I love that relates to this: "Intimacy is a four syllable word for, "Here's my heart and soul, please grind them into hamburger, and enjoy." It's both desired, and feared. Difficult to live with, and impossible to live without."

• That pretty much sums it up.

• And hey - speaking of my sister, why not like her on Facebook? If you like me, you'll love her!


• Oh, and yea....you can like me, too. All the cool kids are doing it!
 
• Bonus - my high school reunion was a couple weekends ago. I talked about it here, a little. Because I know you all love to see pictures, here is one of me all dolled up!

Don't I clean up nice?

*************
As always, go check out Keely for more Random Tuesday Thoughts!

The most beautiful smile is the one that struggles through the tears.

My next tattoo is going to be 'Que sera, sera' in script on my wrist. And it's going to be in memory of my Grandma K, who said that all the time.

Today would be her 92nd birthday.

It's impossible for me to not think about her most of the time, but today especially. There are some people in your life who shape you, who push you, who make you better, and my grandmother was one of those.

Every struggle I've had in my life...every war I've waged, whether it was against myself or others....every thing I've ever tried and failed at and tried again....The part of me that refuses to give up or give in, that refuses to accept limitations, that refuses to surrender...that comes from my grandma. She was a woman who survived anything that came at her. She battled and beat cancer more than once. She stood by her husband and her child and her grandchildren whatever happened. She did everything she could to make sure that her son and his children would have a good life. She looked for the best in people. She looked for the best in life. She was an optimist and she passed that on.

And she was beautiful! In all the ways that mattered, and in many that didn't. She had the kindest eyes I've ever seen. Full of compassion and caring, but with a glint of humor. She was always ready to laugh. Always ready to humor a child by listening to a stammered knock-knock joke, or bumbling story, and laughing her heart out. She could make you feel like the only person in the world she could possibly want to be listening to. She was selfless and funny and generous and loving and big-hearted and a force of nature. She knew when to make you laugh, or when to take you in her arms and comfort you with soft words and hugs. She displayed a stick figure drawing on her refrigerator with the same care as a straight A report card. She would take the time to do whatever it took to make other people happy, whether it was finding the perfect present, or cutting up watermelon into the kind of slices you preferred. She was a great cook and I wish I had cared more when I was younger so I could have learned more from her. I think of all the times I spent at her house, and wish that I had listened a littler harder, paid a little more attention, asked more questions. There is so much I could have discovered, so many things I wish I knew!

Grandma died 5 years ago this past December. It seems like yesterday, and a thousand years ago, all at once. There's not a day of my life that I don't think about her, feel her, discover another part of the influence she had over my life. I was unbelievably blessed to get to spend so much of my time with such an incredible woman. Some of my happiest memories from childhood are the times I spent at my grandparents' house, my sister and I dressing up in stupid outfits, or 'building' things in the backyard, or just sitting at the table coloring with Grandma. She was content with simple pleasures, and the greatest one of those was seeing her son and his children happy and healthy.

It's been over 5 years. And I'm starting to forget some of these things. I'm starting to forget the smile, and the softness, and the easy way she could turn an entire day around. I'm starting to forget the sly look in her eye when she was teasing my grandpa, and the look of her hands as she worked in the kitchen. And that scares me. How could I possibly forget any part of this amazing woman?

But then I look at my dad. And I look at my sister. And I look at myself. And I imagine the sons or daughters I may someday have.
And I realize that no matter how long she has been gone, her legacy will live on. Her touch on our lives will reach into the next generation, and the one after that, and however many come after.

And I know that she'll be looking down on all of us with love in her eyes and a smile that comes from the heart, giving a little push whenever we need it, and being the quiet voice in our heads, reminding us that whatever will be, will be.

Day 7: A picture that makes you happy

This picture, to me, is absolute proof that there is real love in the world.

It's what keeps me believing in soul mates, even when outwardly, I'm at my most cynical.

It's why no matter how many times I give up, I throw my hands up and decide that I am done caring, done looking, done hoping....I will always step back, and take a breath, and remember that true love is out there. That it exists, maybe even for me.

My parents at their wedding, September 28, 1979

Because when I look at this picture, and see my parents, radiant and madly in love and so completely happy, I know that someday, if I'm really lucky, I'll find this too. And someday, if I'm really lucky, it'll be my daughter looking at my wedding picture, and realizing that she shouldn't give up hope.

Day 6: I'm an auntie! (free write day)

About a year and a half ago, I posted this: The Groomsman with Ovaries when my best friend Phil got married, and I stood up with him.

Two weeks ago today, he and his wife, Lisa, welcomed their first child.

Parker Graham was born on Thursday, March 25 at 8:01 am. He was 8 lbs, 2 ozs, and 20 inches long.

Look at that kid. How could anyone say he isn't 100% perfect?

So yes. I am an auntie now, and I plan on spoiling my new little sunshine rotten :-)