Saturday, November 28, 2015

Grateful



This autumn I have felt a myriad of emotions while also diving into as much apple-delicious and pumpkin-spiced everything that I can. I've shared some of those worst emotions with all of you here this month. This hasn't been my finest hour in terms of positivity, but that's how life goes sometimes. It's always a matter of perspective--waking up each day, determined to feel something different and good.

It may not be Thanksgiving here in America anymore, but that's no reason to stop being grateful. (And even though I wasn't with family, I was with friends and work family and we had a great time, so I know what I'm talking about when it comes to some good eating and laughs.) Be sure you remind the people in your life, always, that they mean something to you. Respect them, love them, and respect and love yourself. Be the best you you can be for yourself and those around you.

Despite the sadness that this past month has brought me, I am truly grateful for each and every one of you--for the friends I have made through blogging, for the ones who have stuck by me for years, for my husband, and for my job and life here in Seattle.

Sure, this ol' Southern girl misses Georgia, but I'm happy with where I am and what I'm doing. And I'm thankful to be so blessed with so much in my life.

Wednesday, November 25, 2015

Your Lovebug Loves You

The past two months have been filled with remembrances of life, thankfulness for those who are in mine, and the loss of loved ones. Monday was no different. At 8 a.m. I received a phone call from my father that began with, "I have some bad news, sweetheart." Obviously, nothing good can or will ever follow a sentence like that--especially one delivered via phone call that wakes you up before your alarm.

My Nanna passed away.

I wish words could truly describe the abnormality of that reality. I wish I could truly express how confusing and unreal (not to be confused with "surreal") it feels. Apparently my Nanna had aggressive stomach and lung cancer. I say "apparently" because I didn't know. She didn't tell me. And whatever her reason, I beg that no one do that to someone else--take heed and always let the ones in your life know what's going on. They deserve to know. I wouldn't be here constantly replaying the conversation in my head over and over again, unable to escape it, if I had known. I would have maybe known this could happen; I would have maybe been able to cope.

Instead I just feel lost and confused, as if I'm going to get a phone call from her any minute that says my aunt was horribly mistaken and gave my father the wrong information. I want to feel angry, but I just feel defeated.

My whole life, she was my Nanna, and I was her Lovebug. For years, she was in my life every other day, every weekend, every holiday, every random event in my life. And while our relationship, due to distance and time, hadn't been the same as it was in recent years, she was always the glue on my mom's side of the family that made me feel like I was home. I can't imagine a world where I don't hear her laugh anymore, or I don't hear her call me a "brat" when I say something sassy. I can't imagine not calling her on New Year's to wish her happy birthday. There's a box still in Georgia that holds my stuffed animal--a bunny named Sunflower that Nanna bought me when I was 3-years-old. I remember the day she bought her. I remember all the years following that I never let that bunny go. I remember the sacrifices that she made for me growing up so I could have something as stupid but wonderful as a stuffed bunny named Sunflower.

I talked to Nanna on the phone two weeks ago; she seemed fine, albeit tired as I woke her up during a nap. And she didn't say anything. And I don't know how to take that, still.

Death is this strange, strange thing. It's not tangible, it's not conclusive. It just is this abstract concept that we must accept. It's this thing that says, "The person you knew no longer exists." Even if you're staring at the body in the coffin, it's not something that can be grasped. For me, this death is just raw.

Through everything we've been through--the good and especially the bad--I just hope my Nanna knew how much I loved her. And I always will. I'd give anything to hear her say, "Your Nanna loves you," again.

Wednesday, November 18, 2015

Demi, again



I saw Demi Lovato live again, and she was just as fantastic as she's ever been--more-so now, though. I feel so blessed to go to her shows and feel like part of a party every time, feel like I'm jamming with her, and feel like I'm experiencing the music with her--note for note, lyric for lyric, emotion for emotion.

I love what it does for me.

Sunday, November 15, 2015

Nov. 1

This was the first November that the first day of the month didn't cross my mind, but it did later. Days later when I had the time to think. I didn't feel unsure or insecure or sad. I just felt like I was existing day-by-day, as always. And that at some point this day meant something, and now I'm not so sure.

I remembered a time when this anniversary did nothing but tear me apart. I remember the first year I had to stay away from everyone and find somewhere soft to hide. I remember when just the thought of it left me feeling as raw as a sore throat trying to swallow hard against a cold wind in the winter.

I see the trees have already lost most of their leaves, and I wonder if you would have liked it here? I wonder if I would have even ended up here if you were around. I wonder where I would be at all. Because I had to learn so much without you, and sometimes that's just how life is--unfair, unyielding and unmistakably hard. Sometimes I wonder that just as I count the days, I'm counting on too much from people who don't deserve it, because the one that should have been here isn't anymore.

But I guess that's not your fault, Mamma. I'm sorry for any time I have ever felt otherwise.

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Edit: I know I haven't commented on blog posts since this month started. I've just been preoccupied. But I promise to catch up on my blog reading soon. I miss you all.