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We’re heading back to PA this weekend for my sister’s wedding.
My youngest sister is getting married. Uhhhh!!!
Time flies when you’re having kids.
Anyway. It’s December. As I’ve mentioned, it’s a downright hectic time. There’s lots of tripping over each other, swearing, screaming, eating, dieting, drinking, dieting, running around, working, holiday partying, wrapping, shopping for birthday gifts, putting off shopping for Christmas gifts, wondering where all the money went, eating, dieting, drinking and wondering what ever happened to the company ham/turkey going on.
It’s freaking exhausting.
I haven’t had time to write. Haven’t had time to do much but worry and freak out and procrastinate and count money I don’t have anymore.
In between all this I’m daydreaming about the good old days when life was simpler. When the Graus were the Griswolds. When we would venture out as a family to the local Christmas tree farm with our saw, all of us bundled up against the cold. After all, who knew how long this would take? Dad always said we were gonna chop the first one we saw and run. It never happened. Year after freezing-cold year we’d trek deeper and deeper into the woods in search of the prize. No tree was big enough. No tree was too much for us to handle. Especially since Dad did all the sawing and heavy lifting. We girls hung back and judged him and the tree and wondered out loud after it was cut down whether it was big enough.
Our trees were always about 18-21 feet tall. Not big enough, in our minds.
Do you have any freakin’ idea how freakin’ heavy a 20-foot pine tree is?
Me neither.
Like I said, Dad dealt with all that part. We just walked behind him as he dragged that thing through the snow, complaining the whole way if too many needles fell off.
“Dad! Be careful! Geez! You’re leaving half the tree in the woods.”
He always, always warned us.
“This is the last year I’m doing this. Next year we’re getting a 6-foot tree. No discussion.”
I think there was some swearing in there. Not sure.
But guess what? Dad was outnumbered.
The girls won every time.
We’d somehow get that hugemongous tree on top of our car (it was hard directing Dad on how to get it up there. Whew. So tiring!) and head home v e r y s l o w l y.
There was always snow on the ground.
Lots of snow.
How is that possible? I swear it’s not my imagination. It was ALWAYS about 10 degrees or colder and there was at least a foot of snow on the ground.
It’s amazing. That global warming stuff must be true.
Back home several hours later, we’d all head inside to move furniture while dad prepped the tree (READ: CUT OFF THE BOTTOM TO MAKE IT A TAD BIT SMALLER. DO NOT THINK WE WEREN’T ON TO THIS TRICK).
We’d have music on (I remember lots of the Carpenters??) and watch the greatest movies ever made: A Christmas Story and National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation.
We always had our boyfriends there (mine changed every year … the family joke. I had so many different boyfriends at the house it was hard to keep track. Makes looking back at old photos very, well, uh … yeah.) and ate LOTS of food. House smelled like a mix of meatballs, cold cuts, ham BBQ sandwiches (chipped-chopped ham if you’re from the ‘Burgh), Snickerdoodles, Whoopie Pies and those sugary cookies with some sort of yummy jelly cutouts on top.
That’s just on one plate.
Mmmm.
I miss every single smell, sound, taste or other sensory image imaginable.
It was home. It was the holidays. It was us dangerously dangling on extension ladders to decorate the tree. Us listening to our mother complain about the icicles not being hung EXACTLY THE WAY SHE WANTED. Us watching the first ornament hung every year (the silly scarecrow…mom had the honors). Us all staying up way too late. Eating way too much. Laughing a lot and making amazing, unforgettable memories.
Now, I have my own family. I haven’t lived at home for an extended period of time since 1991. I have my own house and my own memories to make with my kids.
I wish I could make them even half as amazing as the ones I had.
I don’t know when all the partying ended. My mom and dad finally have a small tree. AND IT IS FAKE (but we won’t go there … sorry mom and dad. But that just sucks). We don’t all gather to put the tree up and decorate. It all sorta just happens whenever my mom and dad want to deal with it. There are no more late Christmas movie nights or Carpenters on the record player. I guess this is what happens when the kids grow up and move out. Depressing.
I tried to make plans for us all to do the annual Grau Christmas Party this year while we’re home for Little Sister’s Wedding. But her party trumped the Christmas party. Not enough time in a hectic weekend to do everything.
I’m bummed.
Maybe next year.
Till then, I’ll keep these memories close to my heart and try to figure out a way to make these type of memories with my own family.
Somehow, I don’t think we’ll be getting a 20-foot tree, though. Poo.
Today has been a tough day for me, many of my friends and many of those I follow on Twitter and on blogs across North America-and the entire world.
Today is Rashale’s 10th birthday and Maddie’s 2nd.
And neither of them is here to celebrate with us.
It’s easy to say it’s not fair and we need an explanation. It isn’t fair. We do want an explanation.
We can’t always have one. And that sucks. It sucks so extremely bad.
Rashale battled osteosarcoma and won. She then died unexpectedly … and without much explanation.
Maddie was born premature and then battled the odds. She was happy. She was beautiful. She was full of life. But it was hard on her little body when she got sick.
I never met Maddie or her parents. She came into my life via the Internet, as she did for hundreds of thousands of others. She came into my life when I was already down for the count. Rashale had passed, and I was a wreck. I carry other people’s sadness as my own, and I was heavy with hurt. I hardly knew Rashale, but then again, I knew her well. We had shared e-mails, telephone calls, giggles, bathroom breaks, dinners, jokes, special moments. I saw her with her “hair off.” I held her hand and carried her on my back. I touched her foot when others weren’t even allowed to see it. We bonded quickly and her death killed a part of me.
So when Maddie died, I lost it. I told fellow Hoosier blogger Casey, of mooshinindy.com, that I almost felt embarrassed to be so sad about Maddie. It’s sometimes hard to mourn the loss of someone you never met, even if you feel true sadness. It’s hard to explain. I tried my best that day. Casey understood. We both shared stories about how our husbands must’ve felt when we were curled up in balls over the death of a daughter that wasn’t our own. At least Casey KNEW Maddie. She visited her home. Played with her. Her Maddie was like my Rashale.
Casey organized a March of Dimes walk in Maddie’s honor in Indianapolis, and I was there. It was one of the only times I met Casey. She was surrounded by loving friends, friends of hers, friends of Maddie’s mommy and daddy, and then a few of us who never met any of them. I won’t say I wasn’t feeling a bit out of place, because I was. I didn’t feel like I fit in with this group of amazing women who all had a gaping wound in their hearts. But I walked on, for Maddie. I got over my nervousness and awkwardness. I didn’t get over the sadness.
So … today a lot of us are sad, but happy at the same time. Enjoyed to have known … even for a glimpse … two very special, sweet, amazing, brave little girls who will forever live in our hearts.
Here’s to you, girlie girls. We miss you. We love you. We’ll see you again one day.
I hope you’re both dancing and giggling together right now at your very special birthday parties.
XOXO
I remember the last time the leaves changed. It might be the last time I truly marveled at the site of it all. The way the earth looks like it’s on fire. The way the colors burst against a bright blue sky.
I remember the last time the leaves changed. I carried you on my back through the park. We laughed and shared stories. You wanted to see the squirrels. The squirrels, for some reason, amazed you. Now I know how the small things are amazing. I’m glad you taught me that. If only for a day or two …
Walking through the streets, I saw the looks. I saw the people do a double-take, wondering what was wrong. If they were seeing things correctly. The silent conversations. The disbelief. I don’t think you even noticed. I’m glad you didn’t. We just laughed and enjoyed the sunshine. Stopped to pose for photos. Listened to the fountain. Wondered what it would be like to live in one of the stately mansions that surrounded the park. Thought about the candy we were about to go buy. You know. Normal stuff on a not-so-normal couple days.
In some ways, it seems like days ago that we giggled together in the stalls of the restaurant bathroom. Yesterday that you ate more of my dinner than your own. It was like, what, an hour ago that we raced through the candy store, filling the bag full of cinnamon candies, jelly candies and sour candies. Seconds ago that I patted you on the head and said, “I’m proud of you, girlie girl. I’ll see you soon. OK?”
Alas. It was almost a year ago. How is that so?
I never saw you again. And as I type this, I’m trying to remember if I ever even talked to you again. Surely I did. Right? My heart hurts thinking too hard about it. So I try not to. One day soon I’ll go through my e-mails and see what we talked about. I’m sure we did talk on the phone. Maybe a couple times I checked in to see how you were doing, learning to walk again. I do remember that now. It was always hard to catch you at a good time. I tried. I can’t remember. I hurt too much trying to remember.
You are with me now. When the sun shines down, sometimes I hear your voice. When the leaves change, I hear your heart-melting giggle. When the wind blows just the right way, or I see a squirrel scurry up a tree in my front yard, I’m sure you’re about to call me on the phone …
“Miss Kasey? It’s Rashale.”
Well, Rashale. This time, I’m calling you.
“Miss Rashale? It’s Kasey. How are you feeling? I picture you dancing in the clouds. I bet it’s beautiful where you are. I just know you have so many new friends, and I bet you all dance and giggle all day long. I hope you are enjoying all the rice and beans you can eat. It is, after all, your 10th birthday this week! Can you believe it?! I asked a few people to join with me to wear pink or purple on your birthday, Nov. 11, since I know you’d have liked that we all wear your favorite color. So, happy birthday, girlie girl. We all miss you, but know we will dance again one day.”
