Hey there,
Last night I was trimming Arthur's fingernails before he went to bed. I sat on the toilet with the garbage can between my knees and he stood to the side of me with his little hand outstretched. We were in Mike and my bathroom since we couldn't find a pair of clippers in the kid's bathroom. (shocking, I know)
Next to the toilet, hanging on the wall is some kind of contraption I bought when Bob and I lived in Portland that holds all my jewelry. The earrings nest in individual indentations and the necklaces and bracelets hang from little posts at the bottom. Arthur gazed at the necklaces while I trimmed up his nails and babbled about my memories of my dad (his grandpa) trimming my nails on Saturday nights before church the next morning and how he would sit on the toilet, just like I was right now, with the garbage can between his knees to catch the fallen nails.
Arthur asked if he could wear one of the necklaces and I said "no", explaining the necklace had been my grandmother's and it had been a gift from my grandfather to her and after she died I got it and I wore it at Mike and my wedding. He wanted to know which necklace I wore for "his daddy's wedding" so I carefully removed the fresh water pearl necklace that my dad brought all of us girls home after one of his business trips to Japan so Arthur could look at it. Then Arthur asked me about the necklace I had made from Bob and my wedding rings, so we talked about that for a moment. Then he asked about a locket I have that a friend's mom gave me when I graduated from college.
Arthur began to rank the items in order of importance.
While he did this ranking and confirming with me which ones he could wear and which ones he couldn't he suddenly said; "When I have children they won't ever meet my daddy."
"No, they won't, unfortunately," I agreed.
"So, they won't have a grandpa like I have a grandpa."
"Well, they'll have Mike, and he will be their grandpa," I explained.
"Will I tell them that he's their step-grandpa?" he wondered.
"You can explain whatever you want to them, but this is a long time away, we don't have to figure out what your children will call Mike tonight."
"But my children will call you grandma, like I call my grandma, grandma, right?"
"Right."
"Will my children call my grandpa grandpa when he sees them, just like I do?"
Up to this point I was enjoying the conversation, thinking it was cute and funny and fascinating, but now I began to get a little melancholy. It's doubtful that Arthur's grandpa will ever meet Arthur's children.
Shit, more death to come, more grieving for myself and my children. Man, can't we get a pass on this one? Haven't we dealt with enough already? Can't everyone just live forever?
Well, as "they" say; grief is the price you pay for love. And right now Arthur isn't focused on his losses or his potential grief, he seems to be enjoying all the love he has surrounding him and how he might explain it all to his future children one day.
More power to you Arthur, live in the moment.
Thanks for checking in-
Irene
Showing posts with label blended family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label blended family. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Vision
Hey there-
I had a vision.
Not a premonition, a vision.
I was making our bed earlier this afternoon. It was a gorgeous fall afternoon with bright sun filtering through the yellow and red leaves of the maple tree in our front yard. I glanced out the freshly washed windows (I kid you not, that was not just for dramatic affect, I had just washed the windows) and saw a most beautiful scene on my neighbors front yard. One of those moments that you wish you had a camera but you know that all you can do is take a snapshot of this vision in your mind and try to hold it there, just the way you are seeing it that moment.
I know it is corny but a Billy Joel song often roles in my head during these moments .....this is the time to remember because it will not last forever, these are the days to hold onto because we won't although we'll want to.......
Anyway......my vision.....
There was Henry, in a work apron, literally awash in reflected light from the droplets of water that were spraying out of the hose he held and, oh so carefully, aimed at the silver bike that was suspended in the air from our neighbor, Matt's, red bike stand. Matt stood behind Henry giving him guidance. Both of them seemed to have an air of reverence about them regarding the work they were doing on the bike.
The bike belonged to Bob when he was about Henry's age. The aunts (not to be read ants, as in red or black ones, but read awe, as in the aunts are awesome)grew tired of lugging the thing from one side to another in their garage (bikes were much heavier in the 70s!) and I saw it leaning against their garbage can the other day.
Henry and I were not ready for the bike to meet its demise.
So we saved the bike.
Henry pumped up the big fat tires and then Matt helped him tighten gears and handlebars and the rock hard seat and shine up the rusty chrome. Matt pointed out where the tire rim was dented.
"Your dad must of liked a little rough and tumble riding," he told Henry.
It was all so perfect.
A beautiful day, a shiny bike, a good neighbor, a proud son, fresh sheets.
It doesn't get any better than that.
I just had to share the vision, it was too good to keep to myself.
And who would appreciate this vision before me more than the aunts?
People tell me the greatest gift Bob left me was the boys.
And the boys are great.
But the greater gift Bob left me with might be his family. To have people to share the boys with who love them as much as I do, people who have known them since before they were born and love them unconditionally, that is a gift.
And what about neighbors who take your child and nurture an interest in them selflessly and with passion and care? That is a gift.
As I stood staring out the window and telling Aunt Kathy about this beautiful vision I was reminded of the renewed faith in community that I had during Bob's illness and following his death. I am pleasantly surprised to find out that six plus years later I still feel that way.
After Bob died I could not envision a ten year old Henry fixing up his dad's old bike on the neighbors front yard. I certainly could not envision watching a scene like that with a light heart, full of joy and appreciation for the moment.
My community has expanded in ways I could never have imagined six years ago. I have new neighbors, new friends, a new husband.
My community, old and new, my life, is so much more than I could have envisioned six years ago.
Thanks for checking in-
Irene
I had a vision.
Not a premonition, a vision.
I was making our bed earlier this afternoon. It was a gorgeous fall afternoon with bright sun filtering through the yellow and red leaves of the maple tree in our front yard. I glanced out the freshly washed windows (I kid you not, that was not just for dramatic affect, I had just washed the windows) and saw a most beautiful scene on my neighbors front yard. One of those moments that you wish you had a camera but you know that all you can do is take a snapshot of this vision in your mind and try to hold it there, just the way you are seeing it that moment.
I know it is corny but a Billy Joel song often roles in my head during these moments .....this is the time to remember because it will not last forever, these are the days to hold onto because we won't although we'll want to.......
Anyway......my vision.....
There was Henry, in a work apron, literally awash in reflected light from the droplets of water that were spraying out of the hose he held and, oh so carefully, aimed at the silver bike that was suspended in the air from our neighbor, Matt's, red bike stand. Matt stood behind Henry giving him guidance. Both of them seemed to have an air of reverence about them regarding the work they were doing on the bike.
The bike belonged to Bob when he was about Henry's age. The aunts (not to be read ants, as in red or black ones, but read awe, as in the aunts are awesome)grew tired of lugging the thing from one side to another in their garage (bikes were much heavier in the 70s!) and I saw it leaning against their garbage can the other day.
Henry and I were not ready for the bike to meet its demise.
So we saved the bike.
Henry pumped up the big fat tires and then Matt helped him tighten gears and handlebars and the rock hard seat and shine up the rusty chrome. Matt pointed out where the tire rim was dented.
"Your dad must of liked a little rough and tumble riding," he told Henry.
It was all so perfect.
A beautiful day, a shiny bike, a good neighbor, a proud son, fresh sheets.
It doesn't get any better than that.
I just had to share the vision, it was too good to keep to myself.
And who would appreciate this vision before me more than the aunts?
People tell me the greatest gift Bob left me was the boys.
And the boys are great.
But the greater gift Bob left me with might be his family. To have people to share the boys with who love them as much as I do, people who have known them since before they were born and love them unconditionally, that is a gift.
And what about neighbors who take your child and nurture an interest in them selflessly and with passion and care? That is a gift.
As I stood staring out the window and telling Aunt Kathy about this beautiful vision I was reminded of the renewed faith in community that I had during Bob's illness and following his death. I am pleasantly surprised to find out that six plus years later I still feel that way.
After Bob died I could not envision a ten year old Henry fixing up his dad's old bike on the neighbors front yard. I certainly could not envision watching a scene like that with a light heart, full of joy and appreciation for the moment.
My community has expanded in ways I could never have imagined six years ago. I have new neighbors, new friends, a new husband.
My community, old and new, my life, is so much more than I could have envisioned six years ago.
Thanks for checking in-
Irene
Thursday, September 23, 2010
The Big Chair
Hey there,
Well...The Big Chair has been replaced.
Many people are familiar with The Big Chair.
For those of you who are not and would like to familiarize yourself with it you can read my book :-).
The Big Chair is an over sized fluffy chair with an ottoman on wheels that Bob came home with about 10 years ago. I can still see him carrying it up the stairs to the guest room in our old house and I can still see my sister, Anne, and I carrying it down the stairs to the living room so Bob could sit in it after he could no longer manage the stairs.
The chair has had many purposes over the years and is well loved by all who sit in it. Currently The Big Chair has been inhabiting the honored corner spot of our sun room and not a day passes without someone curled up or sprawled out in it reading.
The Big Chair is not aging well.
It won't come clean and it's fluffiness has become less fluffy. The dog chewed the ottoman and the cats ruined the arms and, frankly, I am growing weary of yelling at the boys about using the ottoman as an indoor scooter. (shouldn't they have grown out of that by now?) Plus, with the ever increasing animal population around here I am forever working at keeping the house smelling fresh and inviting and not like two cats, one dog and two gerbils live here.
It was time for a new chair.
But it's The Big Chair.
I thought it might just be me. This would not be the first time I have held on to something for sentimental reasons and then I can't remember what the sentimental reason was. Or I save something for the boys and then the boys don't recognize the significance of the item. But when I told Henry the plan to replace The Big Chair his eyes started to water immediately and his face took on a strained look.
"But The Big Chair brings back so many memories," he told me. His bottom lip was literally quivering.
Then my eyes started to water and I felt a tug to my heart.
Shit, we can't get rid of The Big Chair.
But we really needed to get something new for the sun room, really, I knew that intellectually.
All three boys came with us shopping and we chose an awesome leather love seat that reclines! The boys loved it at the store. But last night when we started moving The Big Chair to make room for the new love seat that was being delivered today Henry panicked. And then I did too. I started frantically taking measurements under Henry's loft in the boys room.
We could do it, it would be tight, but we could do it.
The Big Chair could fit under the loft if we removed the desk and moved the book shelf. Who needs a desk anyway? It isn't as if the boys ever studied at it. In fact the desk is only used to store all their junk. But getting The Big Chair into the room was going to be another story.(please keep in mind we have three boys in a 10x11room)
It is a Big Chair after all.
I went to talk to Mike about the move. He looked at me with some trepidation and went to the room and began to take his own measurements.
"I know it doesn't make practical or physical sense to remove a desk and make room for this enormous chair in this tiny room, " I told him as he quietly surveyed the room.
He sat down next to me on the bed, a little sigh escaping as he breathed out. I knew he was having a rough week at work.
"...but if we can make this work," I continued, "it would be the best thing emotionally for Henry and me right now." Unexpected tears sprung to my eyes and I choked on the last words a bit.
Mike looked at me, stood up, and started packing up the junk on top of the desk to make the move happen.
It was an event.
The boys were up past their bedtime helping move pillows and remove doors and get gerbil cages out of the way.
We did it! It made it. The Big Chair lives on for now. Perhaps in a few years Henry and I won't remember why we needed to keep that big chair.
I doubt it.
But perhaps.
Today is Mike and my 4th anniversary and Mike could not have given me a better present than to go through the effort of moving that big chair into the boys room last night. The move was impractical and a pain in the butt and a lot of work we didn't need last night but Mike understood what it meant to me to keep that big chair for now and he was willing to honor that no questions asked.
As I watched him strategize and execute getting that big chair into that tight space I don't think I have ever loved him more.
Thanks for checking in-
Irene
Well...The Big Chair has been replaced.
Many people are familiar with The Big Chair.
For those of you who are not and would like to familiarize yourself with it you can read my book :-).
The Big Chair is an over sized fluffy chair with an ottoman on wheels that Bob came home with about 10 years ago. I can still see him carrying it up the stairs to the guest room in our old house and I can still see my sister, Anne, and I carrying it down the stairs to the living room so Bob could sit in it after he could no longer manage the stairs.
The chair has had many purposes over the years and is well loved by all who sit in it. Currently The Big Chair has been inhabiting the honored corner spot of our sun room and not a day passes without someone curled up or sprawled out in it reading.
The Big Chair is not aging well.
It won't come clean and it's fluffiness has become less fluffy. The dog chewed the ottoman and the cats ruined the arms and, frankly, I am growing weary of yelling at the boys about using the ottoman as an indoor scooter. (shouldn't they have grown out of that by now?) Plus, with the ever increasing animal population around here I am forever working at keeping the house smelling fresh and inviting and not like two cats, one dog and two gerbils live here.
It was time for a new chair.
But it's The Big Chair.
I thought it might just be me. This would not be the first time I have held on to something for sentimental reasons and then I can't remember what the sentimental reason was. Or I save something for the boys and then the boys don't recognize the significance of the item. But when I told Henry the plan to replace The Big Chair his eyes started to water immediately and his face took on a strained look.
"But The Big Chair brings back so many memories," he told me. His bottom lip was literally quivering.
Then my eyes started to water and I felt a tug to my heart.
Shit, we can't get rid of The Big Chair.
But we really needed to get something new for the sun room, really, I knew that intellectually.
All three boys came with us shopping and we chose an awesome leather love seat that reclines! The boys loved it at the store. But last night when we started moving The Big Chair to make room for the new love seat that was being delivered today Henry panicked. And then I did too. I started frantically taking measurements under Henry's loft in the boys room.
We could do it, it would be tight, but we could do it.
The Big Chair could fit under the loft if we removed the desk and moved the book shelf. Who needs a desk anyway? It isn't as if the boys ever studied at it. In fact the desk is only used to store all their junk. But getting The Big Chair into the room was going to be another story.(please keep in mind we have three boys in a 10x11room)
It is a Big Chair after all.
I went to talk to Mike about the move. He looked at me with some trepidation and went to the room and began to take his own measurements.
"I know it doesn't make practical or physical sense to remove a desk and make room for this enormous chair in this tiny room, " I told him as he quietly surveyed the room.
He sat down next to me on the bed, a little sigh escaping as he breathed out. I knew he was having a rough week at work.
"...but if we can make this work," I continued, "it would be the best thing emotionally for Henry and me right now." Unexpected tears sprung to my eyes and I choked on the last words a bit.
Mike looked at me, stood up, and started packing up the junk on top of the desk to make the move happen.
It was an event.
The boys were up past their bedtime helping move pillows and remove doors and get gerbil cages out of the way.
We did it! It made it. The Big Chair lives on for now. Perhaps in a few years Henry and I won't remember why we needed to keep that big chair.
I doubt it.
But perhaps.
Today is Mike and my 4th anniversary and Mike could not have given me a better present than to go through the effort of moving that big chair into the boys room last night. The move was impractical and a pain in the butt and a lot of work we didn't need last night but Mike understood what it meant to me to keep that big chair for now and he was willing to honor that no questions asked.
As I watched him strategize and execute getting that big chair into that tight space I don't think I have ever loved him more.
Thanks for checking in-
Irene
Friday, April 30, 2010
TV Debut
Hey there-
I was on a local morning talk show April 29, 2010 regarding another blog I do for MilwaukeeMoms.com. The theme of the blog is parenting without the intended partner. "Plan B" I named it.
Below is a link if you are interested in viewing the six minute clip. The clip will be available for 60 days. I hope to offer understanding and insight into relationships post widowhood.
I apologize to those of you who have already seen this clip but I wanted to make sure I had hit all cyberspace avenues.
http://www.themorningblend.com/videos/91844584.html
(copy and paste into your browser window)
Thanks for checking in-
Irene
I was on a local morning talk show April 29, 2010 regarding another blog I do for MilwaukeeMoms.com. The theme of the blog is parenting without the intended partner. "Plan B" I named it.
Below is a link if you are interested in viewing the six minute clip. The clip will be available for 60 days. I hope to offer understanding and insight into relationships post widowhood.
I apologize to those of you who have already seen this clip but I wanted to make sure I had hit all cyberspace avenues.
http://www.themorningblend.com/videos/91844584.html
(copy and paste into your browser window)
Thanks for checking in-
Irene
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
A Boy and His Dog
Hey there-
Yes, you are seeing correctly. Henry is walking our new puppy!!!
Meet Zeus, the newest addition to the McHoganStein clan. He is a lab/shar pei mix, they think, and is about 10 weeks old. He was found on the side of the road so it’s all just guess work.
I know, I know, I never wanted a dog. I never wanted kids either and now look at me, I ‘m responsible for five! Yikes! I know, I know, like I need any more responsibility, right?
I blame it all on Bob.
Bob always wanted a dog growing up but his parents both grew up on farms and believed that dogs were outside animals, not inside pets.
“Henry is going to have a dog,” Bob would say after Henry was born.
I thought that would be fine. I could keep my “I don’t do dogs” attitude and Bob could get his dog (for Henry) and any time the dog needed anything I could say; “You wanted it, it’s YOUR dog.”
Well, then Bob had to go and die on me and ruin my plans. You see, secretly I had begun to agree with him, I thought Henry should have a dog; he just seems like a kid who should have a dog. I started to believe that a child should have a dog growing up. What is childhood without a dog?
Now, I never had a dog growing up and I turned out OK. (Stop the snickering) I never felt deprived either. I did have a ferret but that is a story for another blog. But I just couldn’t shake my growing desire to have a dog in the house.
When I met Mike I assumed he would want a dog since he had one before. I was so happy I could continue with my master plan. But alas, Mike did not really want another dog and my plan was thwarted. If we were going to get a dog it was going to have to be my idea and my responsibility.
Ughhhhhh!
Well, I have been warming myself up to this dog thing for a long time. I even went so far as to check out some websites and talk to people about the idea. Then on Sat. we were going to the pet store to price a gerbil for the boys and on the way out the door Mike asked if we should ‘swing by the Humane Society and check out this puppy he saw on their site that morning’.
I won’t bore you with the details but we came home with a puppy, not a gerbil.
I think both Mike and I can take credit for this additional chaos in our lives, and we will both take responsibility, which is probably a better idea than my master plan. And it has been very fun watching the kids with the dog. Mike’s oldest, Aubrey, 16, even came home right after school yesterday. Now that is big!
Maybe we should thank Bob for all this dog craziness.
Check back with me in about a month when all the excitement has worn off and “dog patrol” becomes just another chore that I have to nag the kids about doing. For now I will enjoy the picture I have before me; a boy and his dog.
Thanks Bob, I couldn't have done it without you.
Thanks for checking in-
Irene
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