On This Day. . .

Dear Dad. . .

Somehow Fathers’ Day crept up this year. Uninvited. Just appeared without much pomp and circumstance. It has become a less than favorable day in these last few years.

It is the card-filled sentimental yearly holiday reminder of what and who I will forever go without.

Last year, as the days crept closer, I found comfort in those father figures surrounding me. This year, I instead, sat with my on-going personal grief. . . no need to bother anyone else.

Why is it grief and mourning have a strange way of appearing when one least expects?

It’s like a soft-wind, now. . . a hushed whisper. . . a quiet thought. . . an understated smile follows, where just edges of one’s lips rise up ever so slightly slightly. . . It’s the knowing that although you are no longer here. . . the enduring memories will always remain.

There is something quite comforting in that. The knowing you are worthy of both. . . missing and celebrating.

The Dad Jokes- recited at family gatherings, still not that funny. . .this many years later, thus SO funny. . .

The Silly Mom-Dad Banter- she, always the serious one, bouncing off your silly- a balanced comedic performance. . .

The Endless Hours Tinkering in the Garage- not completely sure what it involved, but you sure kept at it. . .

The Rigid Punctuality Time Clock- always waiting in the car a good 30 minutes before necessary, never late. . . not ever. . .

The Yellowed Time Life Home-Improvement Books- referencing just a few pages, you could build, fix, or repair just about anything. . .

The 24 Hour Loop of Televised Soccer Games- GOOOAAALLLL- announced any time of day brought pure joy, any thought of channel changing- strictly prohibited . . .

The Indefinite Buzzing Sounds- lawn mower, edger, table-saw, didn’t matter. . .some-sort of Man-Tool, always buzzing, always . . .

The Few Words– never one for small talk. . .when you spoke, others listened. No words wasted. . .

The Predictable Weekly Schedule
T, R= Pick-Up Soccer at a local park, M, W, R= Gym Supersets workout, Friday= Date Night with Mom, Weekends were saved for lawn, cars, and any other household duties . . . every week. . . every day. . . like clockwork. . .

For all of these reasons, I both celebrate and mourn.

I had a great dad. I have great memories. I also have grief. . .

the knowing, I didn’t fully appreciate your presence- sometimes time makes one more mindful . .

the knowing, lessons my sons will go without- Man-Tools, after-all, are a learned art. . .

the knowing, each year I will be reminded on a card-filled June holiday of a man I love. . .

Happy Fathers’ Day. . . Daddy

The Online Diet

Time limits. Boundaries. Unplugging.

The Device-Free Fasting

Is it possible circa Covid 2020-2021? Online schooling. Working remotely . Zoom Video Meetings.

Isolation’s Blessing

How many hours are too many? How long until one tunes out? How long before it becomes an addiction?

Technology Detox, Anyone?

Could one go without? For an hour? For a day? For a week?

Is it worth a try?

Is it safe to be without a phone? What if there is an emergency?

Is it selfish to set time-restricted boundaries while working from home? What if there is a deadline?

Is it feasible to limit a struggling student’s access to his/her computer? Another hour of reading or math is still practice, right?

Does the purpose justify the means?

How Much. . .Is Too Much?

Control Alt Delete

The Stop and Quit. The This Isn’t Working. The Need for Instant Change.

The Reboot of Life

Is it possible to stop suddenly? Is it possible to start again? Is changing a life instantaneous?

Is it selfish to do so?

Who is left behind? Who is left wondering? Who is questioning their part, or lack thereof, in a future yet to be created?

What tabs will be left open?

Too many tabs left open leads to an overtaxed memory. Too many tabs open leads to a reduction in battery life. Too many tabs open leads to. . . clutter.

Is it possible to quit?

Is it possible to quit a person. . . leaving the relationship behind? Is it possible to quit a habit. . . no longer revisiting it as one proceeds? Is it possible to quit a memory. . . no longer thinking, or rather overthinking, replaying it again and again and yet again?

Is a life change instant?

Some say there must be 30 days to build a habit. Some say change takes place over time with some steps repeated until the person is ready. Some say life changes are similar to the stages of grief and all move at different times, in different ways, with different needs.

Is it needed?

Could it be possible to just feel a need for something more? Could it be possible to just want better? Could it be possible the essential reboot belongs to only you?

Are you who you want to be?

If choosing a partner– would you choose yourself- do you have the qualities you look for in others? If choosing a coworker– are you someone others can depend on? If choosing a friend– do you support those who support you?

Three keys on a laptop. . . it’s that easy.

Does life play by the same rules?

Copy and Paste

The text thread which keeps on giving. . . and giving. . . and giving.

Little effort. Little thought. Little time.

The Infamous Copy and Paste

Each receiver with the naive assumption it was meant for just her.

Little does she know. . .

It was meant for her. . . and her. . . and her.

A Trifecta of Tenderhearted Thoughtless Texts

The. . . “I’ve been thinking about you”. . . and you. . . and you.

The. . . “I miss you”. . . and you. . . and you.

The. . . “I can’t wait to see you”. . . and you . . . and you.

Soon followed by. . .

The Creatively Cropped Coveted Photo

“My Night”. . . little does she know it included. . . someone else.

“My Dinner”. . . little does she know it was made by. . . someone else.

“My Trip”. . . little does she know it was to see. . . someone else.

Small Minds. . . Copy and Paste

Valley of Three

One Impactful Event. . .

Followed in close succession by a second. . .

Before having a moment to have fully dealt with either- a third makes it’s dreaded debut. . . .

Welcome to the Valley

This is the place. The place that can make a person. This is also the place where many a person finds themselves. . . broken. It’s never just one event. . . it is the compilation.

This is The Valley of Threes

In any course of survival it is taught that there is a Rule of Threes.

A person can survive three minutes without breathable air.

A person can survive three hours in extreme environments be it scorching heat or frigid cold.

A person can survive three days without drinkable water.

A person can survive three weeks without food.

Sometimes life is purely about survival.

The three minutes of quiet meditation.

The three hours of solitude in a favorite locale.

The three days reflection of gratitude.

The three weeks beginning a new positive path forming a new positive way of work.

For in this valley, there is a transformation in progress. . .

This is the Magic of Threes

Welcome. . .

A Dreaded Many

The first step. The first mile. The day of reckoning.

Those moments, events, clarifications of a life’s decisions, and unavoidable anxieties composing the other half. . .

The Hard Parts of a life in transition. . .

The parts which make a person better. . .

The parts which provide the learning. . .

The parts which teach the lessons. . .

The Dreaded Parts

A rushed late entry appearance

The underestimation of time combined with the overestimation of tasks to be completed

The union of consequences meeting lack of preparation

The look of disappointment in someone’s eyes. . . no words needed

Loving others too much. . . who love too little

Visiting hospitals. . .

Attending funerals. . .

Seeing others in mourning and the knowledge there is no end to grief

Knowing there was a clear correct answer and instead choosing Plan B. . .

The falling flat and having to admit it to oneself

The falling flat and the admittance to others

Searching for elusive answers. . . yet to be discovered

Working twice as hard and accomplishing half as much

The aftermath of ignoring a gut instinct

The unfiltered unsolicited judgement of one’s obvious shortcomings. . . salt to any wound

The feeling lost on a new path yet taken

The path which leads to new discoveries. New lessons. . .sometimes twice. And then perhaps a rerouting. . .

The hard paved necessary path of the dreaded parts needed to move in one direction. . .

Forward. . .

A Favorited Few

The people. The connections. The moments.

These are a few of. . .

The Favorited Things

Being someone’s first thought of the day

The early morning coffee warming the body with each sip

A morning sunrise run

A thought-filled text

A meaningful conversation

An authentic apology

A handwritten note of gratitude

A long distanced phone call with a desired familiar voice

The Mazda red, nothing glistens quite like that

The absence of clutter, be it in thoughts or things

The beginning of a fresh start

A Comeback Story acknowledging the failures along the way

A great documentary stirring all the feels

A good read where the pages are not counted but devoured

A Reeses Easter Egg, the perfectly balanced delight of chocolate and peanut butter

The sound of a crackling fireplace

A heavy cozy blanket that wraps one in warmth

The smell of cocoanut-laced sunscreen

The glow of sun-kissed skin

The warm shower following a long day at the beach

The wind flowing through one’s hair while driving with the top down

A summer’s first barbeque

The initial iced cold beer on the hottest of days

A freshly cut lawn complete with lawnmower lines and edged to perfection

A hammock for two

A day without expectations

A quiet stroll through a weekend market

A handful of smile inducing sunflowers

A completed To Do List

An afternoon sun-shower

An amazing natural view, no man-made structure in sight

The rays of sun peaking through a sky of clouds

An unsolicited smile, just because

A thoughtful gift which says I know you

Being someone’s last thought of the day

Just a few. . . of my favorite things.


Bargaining with God

Dear God. . .

Dear God. . . I know I have more to do. . . I’m not done yet.

Dear God. . . I know I have unmet goals to achieve. . . I’m not done yet.

Dear God. . . I know I have yet to learn some obvious lessons. . . I’m not done yet.

Dear God. . . I know I have to apply those newly learned lessons . . . I’m not done yet.

Dear God. . . I know I have two young men who still need a mother. . . I’m not done yet.

Dear God. . . I know I can make a difference. . . I’m not done yet.

Dear God. . . I know I WILL make a difference. . .

I’m NOT done yet!

Asking the Questions

Visiting the dark places of one’s mind.

Playing out the worst case scenarios.

Preparing for whatever possibilities lay in wait.

The Modern Scarlet Letter.

The Guilt-Ridden Curse of a Pandemic.

Contracting Covid is a Roller Coaster of Emotions beyond compare.

Too many questions. . . Not enough answers.

Where have you traveled?

Who have you seen?

What symptoms are you experiencing?

What day did these begin?

Which of your contacts will now need to quarantine?

Who have you inconvenienced?

Whose lives have you endangered?

Ten Endless Days

Ten days of isolation.

Ten days of relentless thoughts.

Ten days of a body that fails to locate a prior week’s energy.

Ten days of new symptom introductions.

Ten days of sickness and guilt.

Ten days of . . . unknowns.

Ten days visiting the dark places.

An Unwelcomed Guest

Welcome to. . . the New Normal. . . that is anything but. . . normal.

Welcome to. . . the current Covid Conundrum.

Welcome to. . . your choices have consequences.

Welcome to. . . Reality‘s Roulette. . . sometimes deadly. . .sometimes not.

Welcome to. . . a daily anxiety of What If’s.

Welcome to. . . yesterday’s solution is not today’s answer.

Welcome to. . . Will This Ever End?. . . And at What Costs?. . .