cbtreks

Back in January, I accidentally rolled down the car window. It had stopped working several years before but I hit the wrong button and of course it went down 3 inches. We never did get it back up again and I spent the winter and early spring driving around with layers of sweaters, coats, hats, scarves, and gloves on as well as a blanket over my lap. In April we gave in and got a new car. It's a little red Nissan Sentra and both of us love it. It doesn't sit on the ground like the Saturn - no more crawling out of the car! The radio and cd player work, the windows work, the heat and A/C work, and it gets excellent gas mileage. Of course, we no longer have any discretionary income to play with, but so far it's been worth it. (No pictures yet.)

On May 22, I got a brand new nephew, Daniel Evan Jack, called Evan. I haven't seen him yet, since he lives in Georgia. My niece that got married last September is not the mother - my youngest sister, that niece's mother, is! After 26 years, Ashley is no longer an only child and my youngest sister is a new mother all over again at age 42. !! Yes, he was definitely a surprise - a very welcome one. He's a redhead!

Also, some of you might remember that after dad's funeral, my stepmom wouldn't let us take anything from the house and then later told us we could come and get what we wanted. My then-brother-in-law went with a friend to get it (from Indiana to Texas) and was told at the door, by her, that it wasn't a good time. She never had any intention of letting us come and get anything. However, after she remodeled the house (and, presumably, put everything of dad's in the dumpster) she did send four boxes to my middle sister about a year later. We think these were things dad had stored away and when stepmom found them, she just sent them on. Well, sister put those boxes away and the three of us never got around to going through them together. Youngest sister moved to Georgia and middle sister is currently cleaning out her house, so last week, she brought the boxes to me. They're full of old photos - I'll have to get my printer/scanner hooked up so I can scan them - and lots of my dad's poetry, old journal, articles he'd had published in the local rag, and sermon notes. Also, genealogical materials and my Uncle Lee's poetry and writing.

Those four boxes are a gold mine! Much better than anything - mostly books - that we might have wanted five years ago and weren't allowed to take. I regret that we didn't find his mother's Bible - I'd have liked to give that to my oldest cousin, who has also been a preacher - and would've liked his diploma from Wayne State University, but those are gone and I don't dwell on them. All these writings are things I thought we'd lost forever and here they are, in my living room. It's so exciting! I can't wait to transcribe the poetry and articles and scan the photos to share with my cousins (many are of their parents and of our grandparents).

Recently someone posted on our family website a photo of my Gramma (dad's mom) taken in 1910 when she was 12. I felt exactly as I did when I saw the photo of her at 17 - just like looking in a mirror. (Also, what is up with that bow!) I think the photos are big so behind a cut....

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Unlike my dad, I did not thin out as I grew older. *sigh* I still have a lot of hair though!

I was looking through Emily Dickinson's poems and found one I hadn't read yet. Of course it made me think of my dad and made me cry but I'm posting it anyway because I find that I like it, and it's a good poem.

XIX

TO know just how he suffered would be dear;
To know if any human eyes were near
To whom he could intrust his wavering gaze,
Until it settled firm on Paradise.

To know if he was patient, part content,
Was dying as he thought, or different;
Was it a pleasant day to die,
And did the sunshine face his way?

What was his furthest mind, of home, or God,
Or what the distant say
At news that he ceased human nature
On such a day?

And wishes, had he any?
Just his sigh, accented,
Had been legible to me.
And was he confident until
Ill fluttered out in everlasting well?

And if he spoke, what name was best,
What first,
What one broke off with
At the drowsiest?

Was he afraid, or tranquil?
Might he know
How conscious consciousness could grow,
Till love that was, and love too blest to be,
Meet—and the junction be Eternity?

(by Emily Dickinson)

It's been over a year since Dad died - definitely a new kind of year for me, one in which I never knew, emotionally, just what to expect. It's funny, every single anniversary and birthday which I would've expected to upset me didn't. Christmas - I was fine. Dad's birthday - I was fine. Father's Day - I deliberately didn't go to church anywhere just to avoid all the fatherly celebrations, but actually, I was fine. We had our monthly dinner at mom's and it felt like a regular Sunday. But the next Sunday, I visited a local church and the first hymn they sang was "The Old Rugged Cross". I sat and cried - it's one of the first hymns I remember singing in "grownup church", sitting next to my dad. The day of his memorial, at our family reunion, far from being sad, was more fun than anything, and I loved hearing everyone's stories, especially my cousins who knew him as a teenager.

I had a few weepy moments during the week of August 12 (that was the week he visited last year) and I thought the anniversary of his death would upset me but it didn't. Last Friday at work, though, I was happy to be able to duck into my attorney's empty office and bury myself in some filing when I saw another attorney walk through the office with his little girl, also called Colleen, also a cute, chubby little brown-haired girl, happy to be with her daddy at the office, just as I was at that age. Now that - if I could've, I would've sat down and cried for an hour because that made me sad. But mostly, it hasn't been a horrible year. There have been ups and downs and moments that have caught me completely by surprise, but mostly it's been ok. I think that's what Dad would want for my sisters and me.