You can go home again, it's good, but it's not the same.

      Uncle John's memorial service was very nice.  We were not always close with Uncle John - 2 military families always at different ends of the country, but we visited occasionally and for about 2 years we were stationed in Wichita Falls while they lived there and the kids and we got to know him a little bit better.  As they always do the slide show of pictures did me in.  The pictures of him growing up, the pictures of him with my dad and looking so happy with Nina just remind me that any life ended is sad.  And while we weren't close - he was my Dad's brother and that always leads me down the road of imagining how I would feel if it was my brother... and blah, blah, blah hand me a tissue it's all over.  The best part was sharing memories.  Since it was in Alva, where they all grew up, the people who came to the service were people who had known them all their lives.  They knew my Mom and Dad and their parents and the "remember whens" were great.  I think it was very cathartic for everyone.

     Ian and I stayed with Mom and it was lots of fun just to be together like that.  At the same time if I let myself sit down and think it about it - it's very hard for me to reconcile that my sweet baby Ian is (as he puts it) a "grown-ass man" now.  He carries all the luggage out and loads the car, he offers to pay for things, he wore his uniform to the service, he's a First Sergeant for heaven's sake.  He counsels airmen, he gets people out of jail, he mediates domestic abuse cases, he's a "pretty big deal" now.  And for a big sister who still prints all his birthday cards because she's afraid he'll have trouble with the cursive - it's a little hard to take in!  He's so handsome, mature (ish) and grown-up -it sort of makes me teary-eyed.

     It's also fun, but a little disconcerting staying at my Mom's house.  There are so many things there that remind of my childhood, the spice cabinet that has hung in every house we ever lived in, the bread box I gave her when I was 18, the pictures that my Great Uncle Arthur painted and again hung in every house we ever lived in (and there were a lot ~19), the kids books I remember devouring when I was young and much of the same furniture.  It looks like home, but then it doesn't.  Then there are the other things that make me think of her or just make me smile... her camel collection, all the artwork done by Ian or me or the grandkids, photos that span my entire life and my kids life.  As she said, her house is a little like a living scrapbook, everywhere you turn there's something that brings back a fond memory.  It all makes me smile, it makes me nostalgic and it makes me a little sad.  So much fun and so many good and bad memories, but time marches on and we just keep getting older and older. With stupid funerals it can't help but make you realize that someday she's going to be gone (not for a LONG. LONG. TIME.) and how could I bear to get rid of anything.  I'd have to keep it all and then they'd feature me on an episode of Hoarders....

    On the other hand it makes me very happy and even more thankful that I do have both my parents. Everyone is healthy and active and we all get along and like being together and it doesn't get much better than that!

Heartbreaking

My dear friend's mother died today.  I can't tell you how sad this makes me. It was not unexpected, but it was sudden.  I feel helpless and heartbroken and at a loss as to what to do to help my friend through this.  I just keep imagining what I would be doing or what I would be feeling, but that just leads to sadness and I have to stop myself.  Is there anything that helps in a situation like this?

I do like this stage of my life.  Kids are getting older and more self-sufficient.  Money and our finances are not as critical as they were in the beginning of our life. And I'm not as consumed by other's opinions as I use to be. But getting older in turn means that my loved ones are getting older... I don't like it when I realize that this stage of life is also the stage when these sorts of events are going to be more and more common.  Parents and loved ones get older and frailer and things happen. I don't like that.

Every time I walk out my door and look over at her house my heart breaks, thinking about what she's going through.  I think it's struck me particularly hard because my mom has been visiting this week.  When you grow up in and live the military life - you get use to your family being far away. Visits happen yearly if you are lucky.  You always miss them, but you learn to make your life locally and survive on phone calls and email.  It's sort of like a scab, you know you have a wound but it's grown over and just sort of a shadow in your mind.  The missing is always there, but it's not immediately painful and sad.  Then something happens, usually a visit, and it makes you remember how much you love them and how much you miss them and how sad you are to be apart so much. The missing and sadness  becomes sharp.  Or something even more tragic happens and you really do realize that it's all so fleeting.  That you need to spend each day being thankful for your family and friends, close or far, and never let them doubt your feelings.  It seems so cliche, but cliches are true for a reason.  Hold your family and friends close and make sure that when you go to bed tonight - they all know how important they are to you.