Back Atcha, Tootsie Wootsie!!

Sometimes I really just don't know where to begin, and I sit here with my fingers on the keyboard and just let it go...this is one of those times.  I need to do this, but I'm at a loss for words, at least, for words that will be adequate...because there aren't any.

My family and I lost a dear, dear friend yesterday.  And this is where the words fail me, because "friend" isn't good enough to describe the beautiful soul that Bev is.  She has been so much more to us, especially over the last few years, that "friend" just seems to trivialize it.  In spite of her own worries, her own grief, her own family, she was a rock for us, especially for my sister and me.  She was the one who had the strength and the presence of mind, and the good Catholic faith to be able to recite the Rosary over and over as Edna slipped away from us.  How she even uttered words, I'll never know. 

She was the one who promised to be there for us where and when Edna couldn't...and who kept that promise.  She was the one who would send randomly-timed text messages saying, "I love you so, so much!!!" just because she wanted us to know.   She's the one I cry for now, as I sit here struggling to see the screen through my tears.

Bev was Edna's best friend.  She and her husband were married the same year as Dad and Edna.  They taught at the same school together for their entire teaching careers.  They had children at the same time, and both loved books, teaching, and wine.  But most of all, they loved their families, and everything, EVERYTHING centered around that love.  I'd rather call them sisters, because that's closer to the description of their relationship...and in return, that makes us family. 

We were in the car, packed and ready to leave for the lake, when I heard the news yesterday.  Edna's van, that is, that we were borrowing for the trip.  And for some reason, I just could not make myself get out of the car, as if sitting there in the passenger seat made it any better.  And as I went digging in the glove compartment for a drive-thru napkin or travel pack of tissues to wipe my tears, I found a book of Edna's instead.  I don't think those are accidents.

See, there's a very strong, reassuring thought that I have.  Yes, She of No Belief in the Afterlife, She of Little Faith, She of More Questions than Answers!  In spite of all that, I feel...no, I KNOW that Bev and Edna are together somewhere, hopefully drinking wine and cackling as they used to...and watching the cycle continue as their children start their married lives and have kids of their own, building on that friendship that started so many years ago.  And that makes me smile, in spite of the tears.

When I texted her yesterday morning to tell her that I loved her...her last words to me were, "Back atcha, tootsie wootsie!!!"  I'll cherish those words forever.  If there's a lesson here, and there doesn't necessarily need to be, it's to say those words when you feel them, to make sure those you cherish know. 

I love you, Bev.  Thank you for everything. 

Saturday Six Pack

This is the week that shouldn't have been.  From start to finish, it was one no-good, rotten, messed up week from hell.  I'm glad it's over, and I'll be more than happy to try to forget some of the things that made it so messed up.  And by forget, I mean commit them to immortality by blogging about them. 

Holding my girl and wishing to ease her pain.

One:  Any week that starts with a loss of a loved one is going to go badly.  There's just no avoiding it.  It leaves a hole in your heart so wide that other stuff just falls into it.  On Sunday, we made the difficult choice to put our dear Kizzy to sleep after a weekend of quick decline.  I spent the day holding her and loving her, and hoping that she would just stop breathing in my arms, but that wasn't to be.  I miss her terribly, especially at night, and have an awful time getting comfortable or relaxing enough to fall asleep without her on my hip, where she had slept for nearly 17 years.  She was my baby when I thought I'd never have any, and remained that to the very end.  Love to my sweet girl, always.

She left some deep footprints on my soul.

Two:  This was a hard week for me at work.  I've done some recent calculations, and realized that, for one reason or another, this was the first full five-day work week for me since the week of November 16th.  I took a half day that Friday for a road trip, and that started a snowball effect of sick days for myself, the kid, and my dad, along with holiday breaks and a flurry of snow delays in the past few weeks.  It might not have been so tough, except that it was a week from hell, filled with finalizing school play details, analyzing and compiling data, dealing with a student teacher, who, "bless his heart", makes me nervous as hell, and all that on top of feeling like complete crap and trying to recover from yet another sinus infection on the heels of another one that hadn't yet gone away.  It sucked, and I want real, honest-to-goodness snow days SOON!

Three:  One of only a few bright spots in this miserable week was a JMU home basketball game.  The next-to-LAST home game, I might add.  I shudder to think what I'm going to do once basketball season is over.  But this was a great game, compounded by the added benefit of us once again getting upgraded from our perfectly fine regular seats to right behind the bench in the 2nd row.  I enjoy the games no matter where I sit, but there is something to be said for being able to tell what's going on during time-outs, being able to hear Coach Brady yelling at the refs, and being able to see the expressions on the players faces, especially during a triumphant win over a higher seeded team.  Good stuff.



Love this team!



Four:  There was some holiday hub-bub this week, with Valentine's Day and whatnot.  I got some nice gifts at school, including the annual roses from my dad, a couple of flowers from "secret admirers" who insist on harrassing me, and some thoughtful messages and gifts from my guys...new pillows to wallow in, and chocolate that helped me survive the week.  It's nice to be remembered, and it's sometimes the smallest, easiest thoughts that mean the most. 



Valentine's Day from Dad and the Mystery People.  No, that's not a band.



Five:  The little guy lost another tooth this week.  The Tooth Fairy came to visit and managed to once again slide the money under the pillow without being caught.  It gets harder and harder, especially when he so craftily remembers that this time he was supposed to get eight quarters (and I have to believe him, because who the hell can keep track of how much the bitch left him last time?).

Six:  Andrew lost some other stuff this week too, like all privileges known to seven year-old man.  The kid who has been good as gold for his entire school career thus far apparently decided to break bad, resulting in not one, but TWO letters from the teacher and her nasty red pen this week, one of which he decided to hide in his backpack until the you-know-what was already hitting the fan and we decided to rummage through his backpack.  His criminal record now includes a bevvy of infractions from impulsively quitting a computer game (gasp!), to cheating on a math quiz (copying his OWN answers, mind you), talking during the moment of silence, rushing through work to get to the FUN stuff, and socializing, socializing, socializing.  I don't mean to make light of it, because I'm FURIOUS with him, especially since it's been going on for a couple of weeks and he's failed to mention silent lunch, time-outs, having his desk moved to Social Siberia, and loss of tickets, but at the same time, I NEED to remind myself that he is a very, very good kid, with a heart of gold...and who felt so bad during our discussion that he said he thought we should cancel his birthday (which is months and months away).  And even though he can't tell me why he's doing these bonehead things all of sudden, I can only imagine that he's trying to entertain his friends, or the little girl he made the necklace for a few weeks ago.  And while I wanted him to feel bad about his actions, especially the dishonest ones, I ended up making myself feel worse than he did--like a failure as a mom, like a jerk for worrying about what his teacher thinks of us instead of what he thinks of us, like I should have known weeks ago that something was happening before it got to this point.  Like I would have..., should have..., could have...and while he went to bed upset because he can't watch television or play Wii on a weekend, I went to bed upset and with puffy eyes, and cried myself to sleep on my brand new pillows. 



The dreaded red pen:  the indictment.

Cheers!  Here's to better weeks!

More Heartache

Uncle Bob

1943-2010

Forever in our Hearts