My Daughter

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There is a lot I can say about my daughter.

What comes to mind this very moment is how resilient and determined she is. This time last week she started working with an orthopedic surgeon who was evaluating her for a stress fracture in the neck of her left femur. She was scheduled for an MRI Wednesday and, depending on the results, she’d either go into surgery as soon as possible and/or remain on crutches for the next six to eight weeks. Either way, she was going to need to look at the next two months very differently. I witnessed her making immediate adjustments moment by moment as this very new information was coming forward, understanding this last semester of school suddenly looked very different.

It was determined that she would in fact go into surgery so that two screws could be utilized to help reinforce her femur. Remarkably this was her first surgery and she did great. Deep breaths and now to invite the healing process to begin!

She is still required to be on crutches for six to eight weeks and is adjusting in stellar ways. Fast forward to this week and she has exceeded all expectations, making her way around town and campus like a champ. Her dad and granddad were due last weekend for a visit and lo and behold, this image of her was taken by her dad when they went out Friday night for a drink and a piece of pizza. I am finding despite the frustrations she faces at times, her spirit rises to the occasion and she creates a new pathway forward.

On this day celebrating daughters, I honor mine in more ways than I can count. Here’s to you, Emily. May you continue to shine your light even during the darkest of moments.

I love you ❤️

Until next time I offer these words of wisdom for better or for worse. Please take them with a grain of salt for we each live our own individual truths. Our mission while we are here is to understand, accept, and celebrate that one very simple, but incredibly significant fact. For all this, I am grateful.

The "Firsts"

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They say the “firsts” are the hardest. I’m somewhat on board with that feeling, although I had a lot of “firsts” with my mom’s passing that were not typical. For my dad, we honored his first birthday this past Thursday since his passing in January. He would have been 82.

To be honest he was not much of a birthday guy and argued each year about not wanting to celebrate and grumbled about getting older and less able-bodied. He was angry at his body and so we did our best to cheer him regularly, especially on each of the six birthdays he was with us after my mom’s passing. It felt important to share with him that we were glad he was still here with us and experiencing more of life with us than he ever had the opportunity to do so before. Celebration was not something he and my mom practiced easily.

I dreamt of him in the early hours of his birthday on Thursday. We embraced tightly as if we hadn’t seen each other in a very long time. He was happy. What a gift I was given! I cherish the moments in dreams we connect, and each time I am reminded that he is doing well.

We have memories to lean into and I am glad to have photos of him from earlier times. In this image, he is on the beach near where I lived in Florida with my faithful companion Brown Dog. He looks strong and healthy, straight and happy. He had many health challenges already at this time, and yet I will hold him in this place for a while in my heart feeling his love and seeing his smile, hearing the gentle surf of that day, feeling the sun on our skin, and sharing a peaceful moment of connection.

Happy birthday, Papa. I’m so glad we had an extra six years. I love you ❤️

Until next time I offer these words of wisdom for better or for worse. Please take them with a grain of salt for we each live our own individual truths. Our mission while we are here is to understand, accept, and celebrate that one very simple, but incredibly significant fact. For all this, I am grateful.

Closing the Circle

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We spent the long weekend honoring my dad and laying to rest his and Mom's ashes. We now close the circle of her sudden passing six years ago and complete this chapter of learning how to become spontaneous caregivers for Dad who has needed us so desperately.

I realize on the other side of this weekend I can now start to reframe the stories, experiences, hardships, and heartaches of being parented by two incredibly lovely, yet devastatingly out of balance individuals. They were trying to do their best. Life is full of contrasts, isn’t it? I have so much deep healing to do and stories to understand. I know I would not be who I am today without the family who raised me. Blessing upon blessing, I have also been raised (and continue to be raised) by so very many who are not related to me through bloodlines.

One thing I know for certain is that I have needed community to help care for and advocate for us especially in dire times. I've learned I cannot and do not want to journey on my own in this lifetime. No man (or woman) is an island, yet this is the message I was taught and shown for 42 years. For my mom and my maternal lineage especially, asking for assistance was shown to be a weakness and significant lack of character. How debilitating this message was and how my heart goes out to all who are not able to trust others and reach out for help when they need it most.

Now more than ever we also need to be fully accountable, honest, and vulnerable. How else are we going to make it? Every day this is our choice.

The clarity created out of absolute necessity these past six years has provided a canvas upon which to build a solid new foundation. I will begin to build again. Rest is first though: my mind has been overwhelmed, my body is exhausted, and my spirit absolutely needs quiet and stillness and space to learn how to breathe again.

I hope to write more about all of this when I find the balance in my heart and in words. I feel there will be many words to share.

For now, I thank all who have offered love, support, and encouragement through the years. I see you and I hold you close. For the first time in so many years, I am starting to see the light of hope and joy and connection in the future again.

Image: the meadow space at home where I plan to spend a lot of time in the coming months laying on the ground and coming back to foundational basics.

Until next time I offer these words of wisdom for better or for worse. Please take them with a grain of salt for we each live our own individual truths. Our mission while we are here is to understand, accept, and celebrate that one very simple, but incredibly significant fact. For all this, I am grateful.

The In-Between

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I spent most of the day in the library earlier this week diving into a new course dedicated to rest and softly holding the liminal space within sacred transition. This is a year for my heart to honor endings and new beginnings, and I am ready. I also realize I cannot do this alone as these in-between spaces are massive.

Between the in-between the other day I hugged and chatted with my kiddo between her classes and then my man and I got out for a sunset hike in the chill with our pup (that in-between of the light and dark of day at dawn and dusk has always been my favorite light).

In these small moments that feel so special and big in the moment, I realize how much I appreciate the in-between. No matter who we are or where we are, we are constantly in these in-between spaces. It is not always as comfortable, yet all are absolutely necessary for proper transition from one chapter to another.

Until next time I offer these words of wisdom for better or for worse. Please take them with a grain of salt for we each live our own individual truths. Our mission while we are here is to understand, accept, and celebrate that one very simple, but incredibly significant fact. For all this, I am grateful.

Active Labor

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Almost a full month out now from my dad’s passing and I am beginning to rise with fresh eyes and renewed heart. I have seen how his beautiful and effortless transition has freed him from his great suffering and me from his care. Becoming a spontaneous caregiver and logistics holder for my dad six years ago has changed me forever. There have been many blessings, and I also realize the life-altering events that have taken place. I am beginning to deeply grieve the life I was creating at that time. These past six years have not allowed me to pay much attention to anything other than what is directly in front of me each day with Dad's needs and the immediate needs of our family.

It did not take long for me to recognize these years have felt deeply akin to my active labor process when my daughter was emerging from my amazing body 22 years ago. Six years of active labor with Dad’s release have gifted me the moment that, upon his passing, I sat back in full awe and utter amazement. I held Dad through the morning and then through the moment of his transition. Once words could be found, I shared with Dad’s beautiful hospice nurse that I felt like I had just witnessed a baby being born… it was nothing short of miraculous. This feeling of amazement was so very similar to the miraculous moment I held my daughter in my arms for the first time.

I recognize the gift of seeing this world washed anew and what life means to me now. I am raw, vulnerable, exhausted, grieving the life I thought I would embody, and I am hopeful. I am celebrating the love and the friendship my dad and I still share even though he is no longer embodied. I am grateful for having an amazing support network holding me tightly even now. I am holding all of this so tenderly and with immense presence and care.

My husband said to me upon Dad’s passing, “You have been running a marathon every day for six years. It is now time for you to rest.” And so, I shall. I will rest. I will grieve. I will also rebuild with a completely new foundation of what I am understanding now to be aligned with my path and calling as I embrace this second half of my life.

Until next time I offer these words of wisdom for better or for worse. Please take them with a grain of salt for we each live our own individual truths. Our mission while we are here is to understand, accept, and celebrate that one very simple, but incredibly significant fact. For all this, I am grateful.

Dear Dad

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Dear Dad,

For you, a perfect Sunday was to start off by sharing a big breakfast with us along with a Bloody Mary (with bacon, of course!) and then to get the Steelers on.

On this Sunday afternoon I sit here at the dining room table. This brisk and wild January wind is blowing all of the sets of chimes out there on the deck, and the late afternoon sun is pouring through the window warming my face and my tears as they pour down my cheeks.

On this Sunday afternoon I sit here equipped with my Bloody Mary (with bacon, of course) and my pen and pad. Through tears of happiness and heartbreak I begin to collect some thoughts.

How do I encapsulate the legacy of your 81+ embodied years… living as an absolutely stellar, loving, faithful, heartfelt, kind, gentle, soft, wise, humble, community-minded, service-oriented, nurturing, fun, and generous human being? You carried more integrity in your little finger than most in their entire being-ness. You were also daring, adventurous, naughty, rebellious, and dangerous (a bit, haha). You are truly a good man and a badass too. And… swoon… sooo handsome (I know, I know… you always brushed off compliments, yet they kept coming).

You are my best friend, #1 cheerleader from Day 1, lifelong confidant, and Anam Cara. You are the greatest father I could have ever asked, dreamed, prayed, and hoped for. You have been the best G’Pa for Emily for almost 22 years, and then being here for Lili as a bonus-G’Pa these past nine years. You have been the best brother for your sister. You have been the best father-in-law for both Jeff and for David. You have been a best friend to all you meet. Above all, you were the most amazing, loving, and loyal partner for your wife of 60 years. We let you know last week your mission was to reconnect with Mom, and wow, I hope your reunion has been glorious. I truly hope and pray all is well now.

We are so damn blessed to have six extra years with you after Mom’s sudden passing in 2018. With you living with us, we three generations saw and experienced life to the fullest together. All of it. You didn’t even miss a beat with your move to receive 24-hour care at the Hollidaysburg Veterans’ Home in August 2022. We have been blessed to still share time with you often, and I am delighted that even on those days we were together in person we’d still be on the phone three, four, five, six times a day checking in on each other. We always told each other we loved each other more than once on those calls. I heard you share those three words for the last time last Monday… so almost a week ago... I will treasure that, and will also hold close in my heart the last gaze and smile you gifted me Thursday.

I feel hollowed knowing the phone now will not ring with you on the other line. I hold hope and pray you and I remain close. I still need you, and even while I celebrate you and am so proud of your great big and wondrous Heavenly step Friday, I have absolutely no idea how to live life without you now…. I am gutted knowing you’re not in your bedroom here at our home. My heart aches with how much I already miss you. Even though you were small in stature, you carried a huge heart presence. I am feeling that loss of your physical presence and yet I feel your heart and love everywhere now… it is going to take me some time to adjust, I know.

Dad, you were not only a stellar human within our family circle, you embraced everyone in the greater community circles to feel like family too. In these last six years especially, I have witnessed and learned (up through even today) how you have touched so many people’s lives. You are a healer and and a helper: one who has been placed here to most definitely make the world a better place.

Aside from being my father, you have also been my first teacher and mentor. Even in your last moments you were showing me how much there is to see when we slow down, remain soft and steady and quiet, remain present, and breathe. You showed me what it was to experience a very good death. I have so much to learn from you still… we all do. Please continue to teach us. I am so proud of and happy for you and I am learning how to celebrate your passing with all my might.

I pray I follow in your footsteps as you lead. I will forever be grateful for everything… thank you.

I wish for you sunset walks on the beach with Mom. I know you two always loved that threshold place of sun, wind, sand, and water.

I wish for you access to a lot of fast cars, motorcycles, helicopters, and hot-rod vintage beauties with big engines. Jeeps and old Mustangs, especially... I hope you can work on them there too ‘cause that’s what you loved to do.

I wish for you treasure troves of beautiful, straight, raw wood to shape, mold, craft, build with, sand and stain. I hope to follow in your footsteps here too as I embrace woodworking. (I’m keeping your tools though, so you’ll have to find your own there, ha!)

I wish for you thousands of books to read. Wow, I love your love of reading.

I wish for you the reconnection with all of your loving pups... Laddie, Loupe, Heidi, Samantha, and Lil' Bit. Please give Libby, Brown Dog, Smokey, Porter, and Kolby my love (and a rawhide too).

I wish you well on your final flight, Sir. Godspeed. Thank you for your service.

Raising my glass right back to you. I will listen for your voice and feel your embrace on the wind.

I love you All Ways ~

Jennifer

P.S. I hope you get to meet Tina and I hope Mom has hooked up with Elvis :)

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Thank you in advance for all who have held space for us these past six years while we've cared and advocated for Dad. A big celebration is forthcoming... May 4th in Murrysville, PA. More details to come soon