We took advantage of a gorgeous 80 degree day and took a ride north on the Taconic State Pkwy. Like most of the country, we've been suffering through somewhat of a drought, with high humidity days. Being someone who usually enjoys the heat during the summer months, it has been quite unbearable at times. Fortunately for us, there has been a break in the humidity and today was just glorious. 

We opted to visit the Taconic Sculpture Park. We've been passing the sculptures overlooking the parkway every time we drive up north to deliver our youngest son to school. So, it's been on my list of places to visit and explore. 

The park is actually the artist's residence. He has them scattered throughout his property and many of them are Greek mythology themed. Not surprising to me now since learning the artist's full name. His name is Roy "Hermes" Kanwit. 

When we arrived, we were greeted by the artist. He was sitting off to the side with other explorers who had made the trip. He welcomed us with two postcards of pictures of the park. He was sitting in a chair, his feet were bare, and he was sitting under an apple tree in the shade, very much the bohemian vibe that I expected. He is quite likable, very nice guy. Very talkative and outgoing, he makes you feel like he's known you for awhile, very inviting. He gives you a little history about himself and his family before you get started. He grew up in Washington DC, moved to Vermont where he met his wife and then moved south to the area with his wife and 2 year old daughter in tow 40 years ago. He likes talking baseball too, he spoke to my husband and son about the season for a bit. Many of his sculptures are made out of Vermont marble, but most are made of some sort of wiring and cement. He and his wife also built their house.

As we roamed amongst these beautiful sculptures, you become quite aware of the massive undertaking it must've taken to create these pieces. Sculptors have always really impressed me, the talent that they have, how they can create these grand pieces with their own hands. 

They were all amazing, but the piece "Mother Earth" really stood out. It was immense and we were able to go inside this massive head and climb to the top, peak out, and view the surrounding area from up above, looking down onto the same parkway where we noticed her looking down on us. I also couldn't help noticing how we had walked into Mother Earth's head and rummaged around amongst her thoughts. On our way out, we noticed that her earrings, also made of cement, were swinging in the wind, love how he kept them detached from the head. 

I have to remember to send him a thank you email for inviting us into his space. 

On our way home, we stopped in Rhinebeck, and had an early dinner. It is much nicer and quaint during the summer months. Many of the places that were closed in January were now open. We stopped in a couple of small shops and had some ice cream and then made our way home. What a great day! 

I miss my Dad. He had so much more to give, so much more to contribute, so much more to LIVE.

Mother's Day Weekend

 I've been a little behind on my posting. So much has happened within the last few weeks. 

This year for Mother's Day weekend, I flew out to Michigan to visit my baby girl and we spent the weekend enamored by the Tulip Festival in Holland, Michigan. I truly enjoyed every minute of it. It was a beautiful experience, I had no idea that there were so many different types of tulips, and when they are all in one place it is just spectacular. They really do an amazing job. 

After the festival, we took a short ride to Lake Michigan and I had no idea how beautiful the area was. The lake was so expansive, it felt like we were overlooking an ocean. There's sand surrounding the shore and the water gently hits the shore in waves but it also has more aggressive waves that hit the surrounding rocky path that stretches out further for a better view. If there wasn't still a chill in the air by the water, I wouldn't have minded spending the day on its shores. 

The month of June has been a busy one for us... me. I started the month of June with a fever, chills, and a headache. Because of the times we are living in now, I assumed I had Covid. I tested myself at home and received a negative result, waited until day 5 and then went for the real test. That also came back negative thankfully, especially since we were flying out to Punta Cana that Saturday to visit my son and his girlfriend who we hadn't met yet. 

We spent the week in Punta Cana and we had a very nice time, while I was still feeling sick. I did not feel well at all, my energy was very low, I broke out with a rash, the heat, that I love, was not helping at all. It was a struggle. When we got home, I developed severe joint pain. So, whatever I had was clearly escalating. I called my doctor's office and virtually described what I had been through the last few weeks and they sent me for some bloodwork. After all the testing, I was told that I have Lyme Disease. 

Feeling much better now, back to work, and starting to feel like myself again. 

 Back in 2018, two boys, who were brothers, set off on a hunting trip to the other side of the country, and they never came home. They were from our town. 

I still cannot find the words that would clearly describe the distress that I feel when I think about these boys, and what took place during this nightmare that I'm sure their parents cannot awake from. To lose one child is cruel enough but to lose two children at the same time, at the same moment, must be hell transformed and residing within your heart and your entire being. 

I read this morning that they had found bone fragments that belonged to one of the boys and they had finally now, after two years concluded that they had identified the remains and notified the family. All these years of not knowing what happened, where they are, are they alive, are they injured, are they dead? It must rip you apart in ways that cannot be described, in ways that cannot be mended. It must destroy a person. 

As a parent, as a mother, my heart breaks for this family, for their mother, for those boys. I pray that they find the other son and that they find closure somehow. I find solace in imagining the two of them together, wherever they are, at peace and reminiscing over the countless trips that they had as children with their Dad. 

My Grandmother was one of these extraordinary women...

Recently, I had been looking for something new to watch on Netflix and the women at work had recommended "Call the Midwife". They had all watched it during the height of the pandemic and loved it. So.. I dove right in and fell in love.

It takes place in the aftermath of WWII in the East End neighborhood of Poplar, London. A very poor section of London. The show is based on the memoir written by one of the main characters, Jenny, and also narrated by her. A memoir that invites you into the lives of not only the midwives, but also the lives of the families that they cared for, their trials and tribulations, their struggles, their joy and pain, their hopes and despair, and also in their times of grief. 

The midwives live in Nonnatus House, a convent that is also the headquarters if you will of their work in midwifery and nursing. The nuns who reside there are also midwives. When I first sat down and started watching, I wasn't so sure I would like the characters portrayed by the nuns. That's what happens when you are raised in Catholic schools, nuns aren't always your favorite people. You remember them as harsh, unkind, and insensitive. But.. the sisters of Nonnatus were the exact opposite. I found them to be compassionate, understanding, loving, and so supportive of these young midwives and the mothers that they cared for. A reflection of the humanity, and their true commitment to service and their calling, that they contained and maintained within the habit and the church. 

These midwives were extraordinary women. On their own, they all contained this unwavering strength, and a deep compassion, which included a world view that enabled them to support these mothers of all walks of life, different situations, different living conditions, in times of uncertainty, and care for them with grace and humility and without judgement. Together they were a force to be reckoned with, especially during a time when women, girls, and mothers, were not even a second thought. These midwives were their voices. With the guidance of the Sisters, no problem was ever too big or too small. 

I also have to make a note of Dr. Turner, who is the General Practitioner in Poplar. He is the kindest, sweetest, caring, most compassionate doctor, father, husband, man. He is also a most valuable voice and advocate for all his patients and the citizens of Poplar. Many times he would open a door that would normally stay closed off to a female voice or concern. 

The stories that are told give you such an eye opening view, an awakening, of what life was like for women during a time that really wasn't so long ago. It touches upon pregnancy of course, maternity medicine, disease, illegal abortion, birth control, abandonment, prostitution, birth defects caused by  medicines prescribed during pregnancy, rape, sexual abuse, domestic violence, discrimination, sexism, misogyny, homophobia, alcoholism, mental health, and so much more. Our grandmothers, mothers, aunts, they all lived during that time, had babies during that time, struggled as women during that time. They all wrestled with similar problems, situations, and uncertainty. They suffered and struggled for just about everything. You realize how much times have changed, how much medicine has changed, but deep down you still wonder.. have times really changed that much, or have they changed enough, or do we still have a long way to go? 

As I binge watch through all the seasons, I'm on season seven of nine, I find myself thinking of my grandmother more and more. My grandmother as a young woman was also a midwife in her town. She shared this huge responsibility with a close friend of hers, who also lived there. A small, rustic, poor town where a doctor wasn't always available or close for that matter, no phones, no ambulances. I start imagining the stories she would tell, wondering if they're similar to the stories portrayed in this show. I wonder how many babies she delivered, how many she lost. How did she come to be a midwife? Did the other women volunteer her or was there just a need and they had no one else? I wish I could ask her these, and many other questions. I find it hard to fathom the courage, and the confidence it would take to undertake such a responsibility. 

My grandmother was one of these extraordinary women. 

I guess this is what they mean when they say.. "No good deed goes unpunished"

 Donating blood is not everyone's cup of tea but I always felt that it was something that we should all do. A small contribution, a small inconvenience that would, in the end save someone's life, and I've found out recently that one donation could save as many as five lives. So, it was always well worth my time. 

I have donated in the past, but the last couple of years I haven't been able to donate because of a medical condition. Well, in the last year, I have focused more on my health and I've seen my doctor and I have finally decided to take control of this condition and am now medicated.  My doctor gave me the green light, and so I scheduled an appointment at a drive that was happening at a local community center. I accompanied a few women from work that were all donating. 

When I got there, I was excited to finally be able to donate again but still somewhat cautious and I made sure I made the interviewer aware of my history. After all the necessary questions, blood pressure, and iron tests, I was escorted to my chair. It was a quick process, and before I knew it, my machine was beeping, a sign that my donation was complete. I was asked how I was feeling and I felt pretty good.....

Within a few minutes, the tides were turning and I was quickly feeling very poorly. The room was filled with shadows and the spots were blurred, and then.... only darkness. I was quickly transported into a dream. I was walking through a beautiful field, embraced by the warmth of summer. A warm breeze was blowing, as the flowers greeted me with a wave. So serene. I was aware of someone with me, not sure if it was more than one person, but I wasn't alone. I just can't remember who it was. 

I was told that they were rubbing an ice pack on my chest in order to bring me out of whatever had happened to me. I awoke and for a few seconds I had no idea where I was, or what I was doing there. I finally came to my senses and the severe lightheadedness was the worst thing I have ever felt. I began to vomit, which I did a few times. It felt unbearable, my arms felt like they weighed a ton. I was shaky, and the physical weakness was overbearing. I looked down in the midst of all of this, and realized that I was drenched. I had sweated through my clothes and was now feeling cold, so cold in fact, that I was shivering. This continued for over 2 hours, stuck in that chair, because they wouldn't let me get up. They kept asking me if I had eaten and I had. 

Thankfully, I didn't go alone, my coworkers saw that I was in distress and waited for me. They got me home safe and I am grateful for them. 

This has never happened to me before, and I'm really curious as to what would've happened if the incident went further south. Are the ones collecting the blood donations trained in emergency situations? Are they just phlebotomists? You would think that a doctor or at least nurses would have to be available in case of such an episode. Knowing my history in advance made no difference, because even though I was in distress, they didn't even take my blood pressure again. Which really angered the staff at my doctor's office. 

When I got home, I called my doctor's office and spoke with one of the nurses. I explained everything that had happened and they wanted to see me the very next morning. After further examination, they called it a cardiac event. How scary it all sounded. The idea that this whole incident could've gone very badly for me, very quickly. I was sent home after some blood work and an EKG, and was told to rest and hydrate. I got a few days off from work because of it. The physical weakness, some dizziness, and the shakiness persisted. It took me a few days to feel like myself again.

One of my coworkers poked fun at how sometimes when she brings up the idea of donating blood and invites others to come along, they avert their eyes. Well, I need to apologize to her in advance for not making eye contact the next time she wants to go and donate. 

Heat wave in February

 Wow.. what a beautiful day it was yesterday. We decided to spend the day outside in this balmy, wonderful hug of a day. The kind of day that just wraps itself around you and everything is just comforting, the kisses of the breeze on your cheeks, and the feeling of pure contentment, especially on a February day in New York. 

We put our winter coats away for a day, and pulled out our lighter jackets of fall weather, or warmer spring days, and set out. We decided on staying a little closer to home because we were still expecting a drastic change in weather later on in the day. It was going to go from near 60 degrees to a nasty drop in temperature with snow in the forecast. 

We decided on Lasdon Park in Katonah, NY for a nice walk, at least we'd be outside. We were still met with muddy paths, icy patches, and snow that had yet to disappear, but nothing could hamper this beautiful day for us. We walked much of the trail in their wooded areas, relaxed in a gazebo/pagoda that was hidden amongst the trees. By the end of our walk we came across, quite accidently, a small area in the woods populated by sculptures of dinosaurs. It was very small, lackluster, but I could imagine small children getting excited to spy, with great wonderment, their favorite dinosaurs in the woods, on their hike. I know that my kids would've enjoyed it, quite an adventure, it would be. 

We then decided to go into town and have lunch. I had planned at some point to visit their bookstore/coffee shop, "The Reading Room". You know I can't pass up a visit to a village bookstore. I love independent booksellers and I always find the opportunity to support them when I can. It's a very cute bookstore, on the smaller side, but I did find many new books available and even an old one that was on my list to check out. It was quite nicely displayed on their "Banned Book Shelf". Loved this idea, all bookstores and libraries should have a banned book display. No book should ever be banned, the only way to fight this, is to search out that book and read it. They also have a coffee nook in the back corner by the registers, the aromas from their coffee machines smelled divine. The young man at the register was very friendly too. 

We then walked through the village and came across "The Blue Dolphin", a small diner in town that actually had an Italian menu. Very small and quaint. We were somewhat skeptical at first but we decided to give it a try. We settled on the homemade ravioli that we learned was purchased amongst other pastas on their menu from the local Katonah Pasta Shop where they make their own pastas. Kind of disappointed that even though we lived so close, I had no idea that this place existed. We were not disappointed, the raviolis were probably the best I've ever tasted, and I'm not usually a ravioli fan. After our lunch we decided to pay a visit to the local Katonah Pasta Shop, are you surprised? 

We walked into the little shop and watched as someone was at the industrial pasta machine right by the counter, making their pasta. We decided on the ravioli of course, and a pound of orecchiette, which I made for dinner that night. It was scrumptious. 

Sometimes an adventure doesn't have to take you too far from home. I implore you to go out, explore and discover your surrounding areas. I'm sure you will find something cool you didn't even know existed so close to home. Places and things that are just waiting to be discovered. 

Mini Road Trip

 We've been trying to incorporate a little discovery in our weekends. After the ice storm on Friday had finally waivered, we decided to take a ride on Saturday morning. We knew that the roads were pretty clear because Paul had already driven our son to the airport early in the morning so, we were confident enough that the ride would be safe. 

We decided on Rhinebeck, NY, we had never been, even though for years we had heard of the Duchess County Fair but had never taken the trip. I know why, the kids were always in the midst of tournament sports and our summers were always filled with trips and weekends at their games. I enjoyed their games and watching them play immensely, but did not enjoy what we had to give up in order to do so. I guess I've always tried to fit in as much as I could, I wanted to experience everything with them. I know now that as long as they were happy doing what they enjoyed, it was time well spent. 

Back to our trip..

We set off on a very cold day, our ride on the winding road of the Taconic State Pkwy was remarkable. The sun was out and shining bright, reflecting off of the ice left behind by the storm. The trees were encapsulated in ice and the reflection of the sun emitting from the trees was just unbelievable. What a site! Quite an unexpected treat and view during our trip. 

It takes us about an hour and we finally drive into town. I love it already, I thought. I love quaint little towns full of older homes and little shops. I felt like we had traveled back in time, not too far back in time but far enough. The town was filled with small shops, including little toy shops that are really hard to find these days, a beautiful bookstore, ice cream, sweet shops, smaller galleries. Now, that's my kind of afternoon. 

We decided on "Foster's Coach House Tavern" for lunch. Originally built in that spot in 1860. A beautiful red building that truly stands out in the midst of everything else. It's full of relics from its past, very interesting, and the booths just happen to be old stalls. Every booth contained a photo of a horse and its name. We ordered the Potato Skins to start and the London Broil sandwich, and the Thanksgiving sandwich with a side of mash and gravy. They also included a bit of extra gravy for you to dunk your sandwich in...yumm. We weren't disappointed, the food was really good. Service was also good, the waitress was very welcoming esp after we admitted to being there for the first time. They must be used to many out of towners just spending the day.

We visited the "Oblong Bookstore" of course, I would never pass up the opportunity to visit an Independent Bookseller. Very nice, very modern and up to date. They also sell more than just books. 

We also visited, "Samuel's Sweet Shop". I have to be honest here, the fact that Paul Rudd is one of the co-owners and he also lives in Rhinebeck was a draw but it was still worth going. We didn't spend too much money in there because I was coming off of a sugar detox, but we did try the chocolate truffles and they were heavenly. 

It was pretty cold outside so we didn't spend as much time as we would've liked but we will definitely take another trip up there during warmer days and check out the fairgrounds, and their hiking trails while we're at it. I can't wait. 

Flying the coop

 This morning I officially have two children that have flown the coop. This is what we, as parents, strive for right? We do our job, parenting as best as we can or know how, and our children one day will be ready to spread their wings. Ready to follow their own paths that have been set out for them, like Robert Frost said, "follow the path less traveled", or make your own path. We can't hold their little hands forever. They can't achieve much if they are focused on us, they must focus forward. 

I'm ready for it. I've done my best, they know that I'm here for them, will always be here for them if they need me. At least, I hope they know that. I've always tried to be supportive and I've never held them back from anything they wanted to try, or do. This is the way it should be, the way it's meant to be. It's never been about me, it's always been about them. 

All I can do is pray that they find their way, find contentment in everything they do. Success isn't only about money. Success is also contentment, reasons to get up in the morning, loving what you do, and maybe finding someone to share it with. I've read that many people search for happiness, and never find it. Happiness is not something that you can find outside of yourself. That's why I wish them contentment, because only then can you DECIDE to be truly happy. 

I Lost My Dad During the Covid Crisis

 I don't know where to start..

I remember that it was all over the news, how they were seeing a contagion that had started in Wuhan, China that was spreading throughout the population, numbers of those affected were increasing at an alarming rate, the number of deaths were piling up. Fear of it spreading to other parts of the world was everywhere, the whole world was talking about it, unbeknownst to us and the world, that it had already escaped the boundaries of China, and had traveled to many other countries already. 

The media and news outlets were saturated with stories of this virus, news of so many deaths, medical personnel were unclear as to how to treat these patients, deaths were increasing and bodies were piling up, funeral homes had to resort to refrigerator trucks in order to store the bodies. Makeshift hospitals were going up everywhere, hospitals were converting other departments into extra ICU floors due to the influx of so many patients, ventilators were scarce. Who would it affect most? How do we catch it? How do we treat it? No one knew. We were afraid to talk to each other, to go grocery shopping (I can't believe that we were wiping our groceries with clorox wipes), coming home from work and stripping down and washing your clothes immediately upon entering your house, (was I carrying anything on my shoes?) Wear a mask, don't wear a mask. Businesses were closed, schools were closed, places of worship were closed, restaurants were closed. Working from home became common place, quarantines, video calls with family, zoom meetings with coworkers, virtual schooling, everything cancelled. We were left in the dark, misinformation spread by those we should've been able to trust. 

When it all started, the beginning of 2020, we were all left to our own devices. I remember my parents coming over for lunch, and we were discussing everything that we knew so far about what was happening, as I'm sure other families were. Our individual plans on how to stay safe. We discussed how my Dad was probably the most vulnerable because of his age, and comorbidities that he lived with. We planned to keep him safe as best as we could. He would quarantine at home away from everyone else, he had his gardening and that would keep him occupied and far from anyone who might be sick. We also kept our distance, because we were still working outside of the home, kids were still in school, playing sports, so we were afraid to spread anything to him. 

My Mom had called me not too long after to tell me that my Dad was a little under the weather but she had taken him to see the doctor and he had prescribed medication for him and he was feeling much better. My Dad would always catch a cold at this time of the year, it was common for him, so we didn't think anything of it at the time. He felt better, was still active, looked and felt good. A week later he started experiencing new symptoms so the doctor prescribed something else and again he felt better. My Mom worried that it might be this new virus, Covid, but I tried to reassure her. Covid tests weren't commonplace yet so they weren't testing for Covid at the time and all you could do was stay home and let it run its course. So, you didn't even know you had it. They basically advised you to stay home until you had severe symptoms. If and when you developed anything severe, like diff breathing, then you can go to the hospital. 

My Dad started to experience very high fevers, and with those fevers he started to shake uncontrollably.  He never experienced any difficulty breathing. My Mom cared for him at home until she could no longer do it. When the fever spiked, the shaking was so uncontrollable that it was difficult to walk, or to eat and he was very uncomfortable. My Mom was concerned as well that the shaking would aggravate his heart condition so she called the doctor and he recommended calling an ambulance. We were about to embark on the worst two weeks of our lives. 

Everything was unrecognizable, the hospital wasn't allowing any visitors, not even private physicians were allowed in to see their patients, they were consulting from afar via phone and or computers. So we were left with entrusting our loved ones to physicians that we had never met. Physicians who didn't know their patients on a personal level, a level of care that takes years to acquire. A relationship like no  other, a doctor/patient circle of trust. I have to say, we were very lucky that my Dad's private doctor called my Mom twice a day to give her updates on how my Dad was doing, discussed treatment options, relayed information that we weren't privy to. I am very grateful to him and appreciate him more than he'll ever know. 

My Mom followed the ambulance to the emergency room and was told that she wouldn't be able to go in with Dad so she kissed my Dad good bye and told him, "I'll see you soon". He was still breathing fine, no need for oxygen. She went home and called to give us an update. 

The next morning, a physician from the emergency room where my Dad was being held, (because there was no room at the inn thus far, he was admitted and treated in the emergency room makeshift ICU for 5 days before he was moved upstairs), called my Mom at home to let us know that he had been placed on a ventilator. She was shocked because, he had never needed oxygen, he had never complained of any trouble breathing, no shortness of breath, nothing. So many questions, left unanswered. What transpired in the next two weeks was a roller coaster of emotions, every phone call was either filled with hope or filled with anxiety and lulls of anguish and despair. I never prayed so much in my life, begging God for a miracle, begging him to shed light on my Dad, and begging for the strength that my Dad needed to pull himself out of this nightmare. 

My Mom was home alone and dealing with the premature grief of knowing and realizing that things were grim. I couldn't leave her alone, and with concerns for my own family, I went to pick her up, not knowing whether she was also ill, would she make us sick? She ended up staying with us for a few months during my father's illness and after. She would check her temperature every morning and night, and I stayed with her in our home while my husband and kids stayed away in different parts of the house. 

I would call the hospital twice a day, per my Mom's request. It was the worst part of my days. The anxiety that would build inside of me felt like a living thing that would encapsulate every corner of my being. It would be hard to breathe. A shadow from within that hovered over me. I would gather up as much information as I could from the nurses taking care of my Dad. The nurses, although clearly overworked, were full of compassion. Every time I called, you could hear it in their voices, they were breathless, tired, worn, but they were still supportive, full of hope, understanding, patient, while I asked all my questions. My list of questions that my Mom dictated to me, as a nurse, she knew exactly what to ask. I spoke with so many nurses. 

As time progressed, things clearly were not going in the right direction. Physicians started to call the house, discussing DNR orders that weren't yet put in place. A cardiac arrest that happened, we still don't know whether that happened before the ventilator or after. Medication that had to be administered to control his blood pressure that was dangerously low, oxygen was always good, sugar was always high, but his kidneys began to fail because of the ventilator and he was too weak for dialysis, blood stopped clotting, his body was shutting down. I was told that it would take a miracle to save him.

After the two weeks, I felt like we were being pressured by the physicians to stop treatment because they couldn't do anything else for him. It was then that my Mom and I discussed whether we were being selfish in continuing his treatment. He was suffering and we knew full well that he did not want all of these, what he would call, unnecessary measures. We decided to let him go. I made the call, it was me, the one who's name will be forever in his file. The one who made the decision to stop treatment. It sill kills me. The doctor called to let us know of his passing and relayed to us that after they stopped the medication for his blood pressure, he passed, even though he was still on the ventilator. We realized then that the only thing keeping him alive at that point, was the medication. His heart had already given up. 

I couldn't believe it. My Dad was gone. Just like that. My Mom still talks about how the worst part for her was not being able to see him at all while in the hospital. She had never left his side, ever, in their 50 years together. Every time he was ill, or in the hospital, she was there right by his side, except for this time, the most important time, his last time. It's heartbreaking. 

During the aftermath of disbelief, grief, and sadness, I reflected on how I had prayed and prayed, and I begged God for a miracle. We desperately needed a miracle, that never came, so I thought. I look back and I now realize that my Dad's death was a grace from God. If he would've survived he probably would've been on a respirator, needing intense ongoing therapy. My Mom sees it everyday at the Extended Care Center where she works, all of the recovering covid patients that are not really recovering. Covid has taken everything from them, young and old alike. I believe that my Dad is in a better place, gardening, reading, spending endless days pain free, full of happiness and contentment in the greatest garden that has ever come to pass, reunited with his parents, my niece, his granddaughter, and his brothers and sisters who passed before him. Oh.. and that miracle that I prayed for, turns out we did get one. I still have my Mom. She never got sick. We don't understand why or how, but we are grateful. We did get our miracle, after all, because I could've lost both parents. 

I love you Dad, and we miss you terribly.

Tia Maria

 My earliest memory of my Aunt Maria is living in her house as a small child. I lived in one of the apartments upstairs. Our apartment was at the top of a long, spiral, black staircase right outside the foyer. The house had a grand entrance. 

She would watch me during the day, while my parents were at work. 

I remember running through her house and exploring her bottles of perfume on her dresser, in her bedroom. They were the old style perfume bottles with the ball on the end that you would squeeze, so classy, maybe that's why I love old movies so much. Watching the heroine spritzing herself with those beautiful bottles of sweet smelling fragrances. The pocket doors that I would open and close, over and over. I loved to see how the door would just disappear into the wall, didn't realize that doors used to do that. The dining room table and chairs that looked enormous to me, almost like I was Alice in my own wonderland. She had such pretty things, and her house was always immaculate, and I don't remember ever being told by her to be careful, or to not touch something. I felt comfortable, as if I was in my own space, where I belonged. 

She had a huge kitchen, where you could always find something to snack on, on the kitchen table. That's where I would always find her, either in the kitchen preparing food for later on in the day or in her sewing room. I felt like her house was always the one place where everyone would converge. She had such an openness about her, a sweetness, everyone felt welcome. I don't remember ever seeing her without a smile on her face, always positive, always laughing. There was always someone there visiting, eating, or just spending time listening to the Portuguese news on my Uncle's radio, at the kitchen table, cracking walnuts.  In the living room, there was a porcelain pot that contained the most yummiest squares of caramel candies ever made, I would always grab one as I raced by. It doesn't matter where I am, I will always try a caramel and expect to be transported back to that special time and to that special caramel square but I have never found it. 

Loved to spend time in their backyard/driveway. Running through the grass, and the bbqs on the weekends during the summer. I made my first friend there.

I still love that house. I wish it was still a place where I could visit, but then I realize that the house, now modified by someone else, wouldn't even look like the same place that lives in the recesses of my younger mind. It would be sad to see it now. 

I still can't fathom how this happened but when I was about six, I was at school, and school was not too far from my Aunt's house, three long blocks away. I left school, just walked out the door, and walked by myself to my Aunt's house in the middle of the school day. I still recall little tidbits of everything I saw and experienced on my way, including the lion that was right inside a storefront, that growled at me, when I walked by, his handlers laughing at me. Did this even happen or was it my imagination, no clue? How bold I was at that age, no fear. Even though it was the 70s, reflecting back, anything could've happened to me that day, come to think of it, it was the 70s, so that lion could've been real. Someone must've been looking after me from above, I'd like to think it was my grandfather that had just passed away. From what I've been told by my parents, my Dad had gone back for a few weeks to attend my grandfather's funeral at the time and I wasn't a fan of my Daddy being gone for so long. The way I see it, my Aunt's home was a comfort for me, and I was just drawn towards it, and to her. How did I even know how to get there, I was six? 

After we moved and purchased a house of our own, they would spend a lot of time at our house. For years while I was growing up, they were fixtures in my life. We would all sit in the backyard or at the kitchen table, and talk for hours. I loved to listen to her tell stories. You know those people who are trying to tell you a funny story and they are laughing while telling it, that was her. I hope that my Dad and his oldest sister are still at it, sitting at the kitchen table, or in a celestial garden somewhere still reminiscing and telling stories. I hope that they are having a great big laugh at someone else's expense, in a humble way of course. They laughed at themselves the most, mostly at something my uncle did lol. 

As Time Passes On

My cousins and I are approaching a time in our lives where we are starting to experience the loss of our parents. One of my cousins and I came to that realization when we were both grieving the loss of our fathers, within a few months of each other. Recently, we lost my Dad's oldest living sister, well into her 90s. There are only four siblings left. 

My brother being the youngest of the bunch is going to be 46 in a few months, and the oldest of the bunch is in his 70s, the rest of us are sprinkled about within years of each other. I can't believe it really, I still see us as the teenagers and young adults that we once were, but realistically speaking, our children are now at that stage. Where did the time go? We weren't paying attention, it happened while we weren't looking.  

My grandparents were older and their children's ages spanned many years, having 14 children will do that. My Dad's oldest sibling was 20 years older than him. My grandparents passed away years ago, and now their children are passing on and leaving us. The circle of life I guess, still very sad to think about and acknowledge that it's happening. 

Christmases Past

During the holidays, don't we always reminisce about old times, old traditions, Christmases past? My kids always bring up traditions that we had when they were younger, and traditions that we still keep. That's what Christmas is all about, family and the traditions that we keep together. That's probably what has been the hardest part of living through this pandemic and quarantine, besides the loved ones that many of us have lost. Growing up, our Christmas tradition was always going to Midnight Mass, kind of bumbed that they don't really hold that late mass anymore, and then we'd come home and open up gifts. I think that was probably the only thing that kept us awake during mass, the anticipation of getting home and opening up Christmas gifts. Also a huge incentive to behave during mass as well. lol. 

Over the holidays, my Mom started reminiscing of old times, (she's been doing this more and more since my Dad passed away), and what Christmases were like for our family when they were all young, newly married, and just starting their lives together. 

My father, some of his brothers, and brothers in law, all worked for General Motors, the car company, and during that time, the plant would close for the holidays, if you can believe that.  She said, that the plant would close for a week during the holiday season, and it had become tradition to stop everything and plan Christmas together. My Aunt, Maria, the matriarch of the family, had the biggest home when compared to everyone else, and could accommodate our growing family much easier. So, everyone always spent Christmas at her house. They would pool together the money they needed and they would buy a roast pig, a leitao, with all the fixings and just spend all week together, eating, drinking (my uncle Jack made the wine in his cellar), celebrating, laughing, and playing cards. Also reminiscing, I'm sure, of times past, how far they had all come and how grateful they were, just to be together.  

Large families always include a support system like no other. When I look back now and remember what I can about what it was like to grow up in a large family, I remember that support system. It wasn't always apparent but it was there, it was felt. 

I often think about the lives that they all led and how difficult it must've been to move to a foreign country, start a new life, start a family, and just survive. But, at the same time, I know how lucky and fortunate they all were that they were able to immigrate together and settle within blocks of each other. They had each other, and I'm sure, because of that fact, the rough times weren't always so bad. They had each other to lean on during the great times, and also during the not so great.