IT IS THE SEASON OF HOLIDAYS!

Grandson Leighton at the Dog Train Party!

 I am going to just put it out there.  I am a kid during this time of year!  From the time, the first leaves start displaying their brilliant colors through the first snow fall my adrenaline flows fast and free!

Life, and I mean my adult life…started for me October 7, 1966.  Driving cross country through the mountains with the brilliant glow of the reds, yellows and golds of the trees welcoming me to Pennsylvania, I entered into a family that was grounded in unconditional love and I could feel the change and I embraced it’s every core!  

A holiday has never been just the day for me.  There is such joy in the planning, the preparation and the day….well the day for me is sitting back and watching all those I love and care for enjoy themselves.  

Halloween presents itself with a chance for me to dress up with the kids and go trick-or-treating.  As they got older and didn’t hang with “M-O-M”, I would dress up anyway and greet the kids at the door.  One year I dressed in an old black witches outfit, with a big hat.  I sat on our porch with a large bowl of goodies, head down and still, and when I would see their feet I would pop my head up with a scary “Happy Halloween”.  Those who came to my door grew to know that Mrs. Ford would be doing something silly.  

The pumpkins and fall decorations would hang around through Thanksgiving.  Joined by the pilgrims and the great planning for our Thanksgiving meal.  The Ford family gathered either at Grammy Ford’s or my house.  We are a foodie family which always creates such great excitement amongst us.  The joy for me as I watched the Ford family gather was how, no matter how much time had passed between visits with one another, there was always such a great presence of celebration (and without the drunk fighting).  The tradition carries on today at my son and daughter-in-law’s home.  

Christmas….ah Christmas.  I feel sorry for those who put all their effort into just THE day.  For me, from the moment Thanksgiving is done until I am forced to take the holiday decorations down, it is Christmas.  When my kids were young we would do the advent wreath.  It was such a joy to stop the day's hectic schedule, light a candle, pray and read a Christmas story to them.  Letting each one take a turn to open the advent calendar door or window.  One year to add the spirit of love and the spirit of giving to the lesson I began the tradition of a “secret Santa”.  They had to draw each other’s name, keep it a secret and at least once a week do something nice for that person and not tell them.  It was only at the end that they were allowed to share who they were.  

Along with the normal prep for the holiday I would have the kids make things to give as presents, instead of buy them.  One year we created a calendar and they had to pick a date at least once a month and write a promise to that person.  During the year, we had to keep track and fulfill that promise.  It could be a car wash, a visit to the grandma’s, or bring a dinner to them.  Grammy Ford told me once this was her favorite!  

Our neighborhood after a storm!

One year I drew a picture of Grammy Ford’s house and we had notecards made up.  The kids helped me find the right little basket, and we wrapped them and put ribbons around them.  I can still remember how excited they were. 

There was always the homemade Christmas decorations for the tree.  I loved teaching them the lessons of giving.  

New Year celebrations would round out the season.  They were always fun, yet not rowdy or crazy.  A small gathering of friends, or a dinner.  But a round-robin of phone calls to the family not there always came at midnight.  

When the older generation passed, it took a couple of years for new traditions to take hold.  In my life since losing Pat, I take great comfort in the fact that I know what we are doing for these family gatherings.  Life is so busy the rest of the year, and there can be many lonely moments, but not the holidays.  It is a time for us to come together and celebrate each other, catch up, and be reminded of what is truly important to our life, and that is the love we hold for each other. 

HOW CAN IT BE THAT YOU ARE GONE?

Forty-nine years ago this month a broken winged bird was carried half way across these States to a new life where unconditional love and healing allowed me to grow into the woman I am.  At moments, the energy consumes me like it was yesterday,

So how can you be gone?

How can you be gone when the morning sun invades my room, I still find myself reaching out to feel the warmth of your body and can at times still catch the smell of your sweet skin?

Standing by the shores of a lake I see you cast a shadow on the lake from your fishing boat, as I wait by the shore for the signal to bring in the trailer to load the boat.  How can this be when you are gone?

When doubt fills me, I am suddenly embraced by your voice letting me know all will be okay.  Oh, how can you be gone?

I see and hear you in our children, the way they live, love and play, so tell me how can you be gone?

Watching them live their lives is like watching reruns of ours.  How can it be that you are gone?

At moments when I do something dumb I still hear your voice call out, “Marlena!!”

Life has gone on since you passed.  But fall fills me with the memories of both the beginning and end of the time we had together.  The vibrant colors of fall take me back to that trip East through the Pennsylvania mountains a bloom with the brilliant red, yellow and gold of autumn and to that Thanksgiving Day with the last of the fall colors fading from the trees and the sun warming us through our sweet wedding day.  I ask again, how can you be gone?

It all went so fast.  This Thanksgiving brings our 49th wedding anniversary, along with the 4th year that you entered Hospice Care and I still ask, how can you be gone when I feel you around me so strong.

And again I ask how can you be gone?

Because you are.  And I thank you for the sweet memories that continue to fill me and remind me of our love.

A BRUISED APPLE IS STILL GOOD ENOUGH TO EAT!

This summer has found me in a nostalgic mood as I have been sorting and organizing all the family history, photos, and stories that I have gathered these past 49 years.  At my age, I realize time is running short and one day this lifetime of work will be a challenge for any of my kids to deal with if I don’t finish off this project.

To add to this, I received a call from a first cousin of mine that I had not seen since I was about 7 years old.  She and her husband were traveling East to visit Atlantic City and since I lived close wanted to stop by and visit with me.  I was very excited to receive them.  

For those first seven years of our life, we were close as first cousins could be because our families lived in the same area.  One month older than I am, we were constant playmates, along with her older brother and my two younger brothers.  Then her parents separated and divorced and except for a brief meeting at our grandmother’s funeral in 1993, we had not seen each other.  I had not heard a lot about her or her life.  My younger brother had a bit more contact with these cousins after I left home, but I had none.  For me, a life of abuse caused me to be isolated and I kept to myself until the day I left home and started a new life with Pat here in Pennsylvania.  For my cousin, life turns out to not have dealt her a good deal at first, but for both of us, life did eventually bless us with love and the ability to create our own loving families.

My cousin, once she was gone with her mother and the life forged anew, was mostly separated from her father’s side of the family.  We both spent a life separated physically but as it turns out, not emotionally.  For her, memories of a family filled with the craziness made one cautious in wanting to make that initial contact.  Lucky for me, that caution did not stop the curiousness about a long-lost cousin.

When she and her husband planned a trip East they decided to give a visit to me, yet, there was a concern that maybe, I was the continuum of what we both knew at those young tender moments of our life.  So, with a bit of cautiousness, a brief visit was planned.

For the first couple of hours, it was catch up time.  Sharing what life had brought to the both of us, introducing each other to our own families through pictures and stories.  And memories of a childhood surrounded by adults behaving badly.  Not one of us, cousin or sibling, were left untouched by the pain caused by the behavior of those who surrounded us.

We talked non-stop.  My cousin’s husband could only sit and shake his head at the craziness of some of our memories.  “Remember the time we both sat huddled under the table in Grandma’s kitchen with beer bottles flying overhead breaking against the wall?”  “How about the Santa that gave us french kisses…ewe…”  “Remember how badly Donnie was treated?”

The fights…the fear…the drinking that always surrounded every gathering left its mark on our souls.  Photo’s shared of times and places hard to recall, but through them showed us how we were connected.

I invited them to let me show them my home area, and by the end of the evening, over a dinner by the Delaware, we spoke of how much we liked each other and sorry that so much time had passed between us.  Stories and memories left me a bit ruffled, yet at peace with not only the opportunity for each of us to recognize how fortunate we are that we had the courage to make better choices in our own lives.  

“You know what I hate?” I said to my cousin.  “I hate the saying ‘the apple does not fall far from the tree.’  Our apple rolled down hill a ways, a bit battered and bruised from the trip, but still good enough to enjoy!”

As we ended our evening together with a hug and a promise that we would see each other again, I was proud of the fact that some of us survived the family craziness and by the example of our lives, teach our own children that you have choices and the most important one you can make is how you choose to live your life.