A Christmas Song

Chestnuts roasting on an open fire,
Jack Frost nipping at your nose,
Yuletide carols being sung by a choir,
Folks dressed up like Eskimos...

The version of "A Christmas Song" sung by Nat King Cole is my favorite Christmas song -- ever. When my father died last year a week before Christmas, it was the song I had heard continously throughout the day. My father knew it was my favorite song. I do believe he had a bit of "influence" in sending it to me that day. It did make a difference.

This year when I heard the song for the first time, it made me cry. It brought back all of the details of the day. I can still feel how my breath escaped my chest as I heard he had died. The crushing blow almost made me fall to the carpet of the "grief room" of St. John's Hospital in Maplewood. I was devastated. No words can describe how I felt.

The month following his death was filled with anger, sadness and hopelessness. I kept thinking that I could have done something to prevent it, but that wasn't true. I spent many months going through counseling in order to feel a sense of normalcy. Although I feel better now than I did then, I still have scars.

This year is different. I no longer feel the sadness that hung on me for the first half of the year. I am hopeful for what is in store for 2011.

Although it's been said, many times, many ways,
Merry Christmas, to you.

The "W" Word

I told myself that I wouldn't talk about work in my blog posts anymore, but I guess I was lying to myself. Last month I had a review on my job performance that I would like to call "Assumption and Hearsay". Let's just say that there are some people who would prefer that I stay in the current position I have as I cover a lot of the work that they are supposed to do on a daily basis. When I have voiced concern over the fact that I have not been promoted since I have taken my position (three years ago), I was told that I was "difficult" and "not professional enough" to be considered for a promotion. Whatever. After I was part of that lovely conversation, I decided that I was done; no more worrying about things that take place in my life from 8:30 a.m. until 5:30 p.m. It doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things.



I have applied for enumerated job positions since one of my co-workers threw me under the bus a year ago. It was someone who I thought was a friend, but that was a mistake in itself. People who work with you are very rarely your true friends. They want to know about your personal business so that they can use it to their advantage by having "information" on you. A real friend would not throw a person to the wolves in order to save themselves from any issues they might be having with their own inability to work hard and complete pressing tasks. Needless to say, the phone and emails are not coming in to welcome me to a new job opportunity.

I know it will happen someday...it is just the waiting that is the hardest part.

I'm Back!

Due to the ban placed on my activites pertaining to Blogger at work, I have been very bad at keeping up with my blog. I know it is a pathetic excuse, but it is what it is. :) I can update everyone on what has been happening in my life over the last six months (for those who care):

1) I *heart* the gym.
Yes. I never thought I would say that, but it is true. Since the end of August I have dilligently been working out and have lost 37 lbs. It has been difficult, but I have been able to do it consistently and feel wonderful as a result.

2) My boys!
I have found that motherhood has been the best job I have ever had. I look at my older posts and smile at the time that has passed since I first starting writing about my children. My oldest, Brody, is now five and will be starting kindergarten next fall and my youngest, Byron, will be four in January. I am truly blessed and very fortunate.

3) My husband is my best friend.
Next month it will be five years and six months since I married my husband, who I consider to by my best friend. The road has been rocky at times, but I am very glad to have him as a partner in life. It is hard for me to recall what my life was like before we met -- which I never thought I would be able to say! :)

4) Other things...
I feel as if 2010 has been a year of discovery for me. I have learned a lot about myself as a person and I am starting to truly love who I am. Since my father's death almost a year ago, I have been able to mend my relationship with my mother and understand the true importance of family in my life. It has taken me a long time to get to this place and I love the comfort of it. I owe huge kudos to my life coach, Angie, who has been a wonderful listener and a tremendous asset to me.

I hope I will be able to create more posts in the future as I am able. Blessings! :)

Banned in Minnesota

Well, it finally happened. Blogger has been banned with Facebook at my place of employment. Since normally the last thing I want to look at is a computer after work, my posts will be limited for now on my blog. I'll try to post things from time to time, but for now, it will be rather limited.

Meet Virginia

Earlier this week I saw a job posting for a marketing and communications professional within the state government system. Although the position was within the same salary range I currently make, the description included details of promise that it would lead to something more extraordinary in the future. This was as appealing to me as a juicy peach in the middle of August, but there was one problem; the job would be in Virginia, Minnesota.

Virginia. When I was in my late teens I took my first trip to Virginia and I was less than impressed. The teal-colored water that pooled around the vast, sienna iron ore mines was not esthetically pleasing to me. The town reeked of “smallness”, which was something during that point in my life I couldn’t stand.

I had been a city girl for most of my life. Riding my bike around Lake Phalen and taking walks down Johnson Parkway was a way of life for me when I was younger. I went through a huge culture-shock when my mother and stepfather moved from the east side of St. Paul in 1987 to Wyoming, Minnesota. At the time, it seemed as if they had used a time machine and sent us back to the days of Laura Ingalls Wilder. Like I said, those were my thoughts…at the time.

The most recent time I had a real appreciation for life outside of the cities was last summer when my husband and I took our boys to his parents’ cabins which lie on the lakeshore of Echo Lake. I had never felt so relaxed and peaceful. I didn’t miss the fast-paced, get-it-done-yesterday type of mentality that I was so familiar with. I listened to the pine trees’ needles being kissed by the wind. I dipped my hands into the coolness of the lake. I was mesmerized.

Virginia is only an hour from the cabins. There are many similarities between the two locations. I appreciate the beauty that lies far north of where I live now. I did apply for the job after I told my husband my thoughts. Who knows? We might meet Virginia and acquire a new friend for a very long time.

Good Friday

Every year around this time I become a bit unearthed. I usually don’t let things bother me and I can pretty much get over bad incidents that have occurred to me; except for one.

In 1984 my mother and I lived with her “man” his two children; a “son” and a “daughter”. Both of her man’s children were older than me; the daughter by a year and the son by two years. We moved in and February and moved out in April. The reason being was that I was beaten and sexually molested by the “son” when I was 10 years old.

At first I didn’t want to tell anyone. When a child is threatened in the middle of the night, and during bus rides home from school with violence, it has a tendency to keep any promise for being “saved” from happening. The “son” told me that if I said anything he would kill me. I believed him. It was a month before I said anything. It was the longest month of my life.

During the time in which my mother and I lived at her man’s house, I didn’t get to see my father very often. When I did, I would cry when I left his house because the thought of having to go back with my mother made my stomach churn to the point in which I would vomit. No one knew I had vomited. I kept that to myself.

Over the course of the month, I thought of ways to tell my mother what was happening to me while she was out with her “man” drinking whiskey and smoking endless packs of cigarettes. The “son” said if I told her that she wouldn’t believe me anyway if I did tell and that it wouldn’t matter because I would be dead. I believed him.

On Good Friday in 1984 my mother planned to drop me off at my father’s house for the weekend. I was very much looking forward to spending the weekend with him, not only because it had been such a long time since I had saw him last, but because I knew it was time to tell someone. I knew my father would believe me and he would trust me.

When I arrived at his house, I immediately went downstairs to where he was working on a project. I had begun to cry and shake violently. When my father asked me what was wrong I told him…everything. He immediately called my mother and berated her for what I had to endure. My mother only had one thing to say to my father, “I think she is lying.”

The next few hours were a blur. I went to the hospital to have a cervical exam completed, which showed that I had bruising and there was no way I was lying about what happened to me. I had to go to the local police department and write, in detail, about everything I had to endure over that month. My mother had shown up, drunk, wanting to console me. I decided to hold my father’s hand instead.

After that Good Friday in 1984, my relationship with my mother never recovered. My relationship with my father, however, continued to endure with each year that passed. He would call me each year on Good Friday, just to make sure I was okay. That is definitely one call I would like more than anything tomorrow, but I know the telephone will never ring again.

Being unearthed is a good way to describe how I feel. Although I will not receive my telephone call, I know my father’s presence is still here. It might not be a “good” Friday tomorrow, but the day after will be even better.

James Cameron's Wife

This is the problem I have with the Oscars; women who are in dire need of a meal and look as if they have starved themselves into preconceived notions of false beauty. Could someone please give Suzy Amis a meal please? WOW! :(

What's Going On?

It has been a while since I last wrote on my blog. My grief counseling sessions are now over and I feel as if there has been a tremendous burden lifted off from my soul. It is amazing what therapy can do for someone. I’ve had a few other issues going on and believe I might go and see this person on a regular basis…we will see how things pan out in the next two months. :)

Aside from this, I can say that I am overall well. Work is going well; busy but well and home life is also good. It is a huge relief to feel as if things are finally coming together and I don’t feel as crushed with grief as I have over the past few months. My prayer for strength has paid off as well as the sessions.

Spring is definitely a time of renewal, and I cannot wait for it to arrive! :)

Asking For Help

I have not really been one to ask other people for assistance. I have always felt that my problems are my own and that seeking help from others would only be viewed as being a weakness. I despise having to ask others for assistance when I would rather complete a difficult task on my own. For me, part of the resolution comes in being able to solve something on my own. This time, however, is different.

Since my father died last month, I have been at a complete and total loss. Really. No words can express how much he meant to me. His death isn’t something that I can fix. He is gone. There is no resolution to be had.

I won’t get into the awful incidents I have had to endure the past month with my stepmother. It has been very hard for me to deal with…especially knowing that my sons will never know who my father was or have memories of them to keep throughout their lives. Her behaviors have dictated that everything that was ever owned by my father has a price tag attached to it. Enough said.

Next week I will be doing something that I have not done in quite some time; I will be seeing a counselor. My grief over his death has been debilitating. I keep praying for strength to get through this…but it isn’t enough and I have finally realized it. At first I didn’t want to keep the appointment because it was out a month from the time I initially called to schedule it. Now that the time is here, I realize that the wounds are still deep and time is not healing me as fast as I would like it to.

Below is one of my favorite photos of my father and I. A copy of it currently resides on my desk at work.

At A Loss

Have you ever lost someone who was of utmost importance to you? Someone you considered to be your confidant, friend and delegate of absolute trust? I lost my father on Friday, December 18, 2009. Even though it has been three weeks since he died, the wounds I have are as fresh as if it were yesterday.

My father died without anyone close to him there to witness it. He died on an ambulance gurney outside his home after having a massive heart-attack. It was his second massive heart-attack in two years. I cannot even begin to say how many times I would talk to him about changing his “bad” habits; how I would tell him he needed to be there so that his grandchildren would know who he was. Like all things, motivation to change needs to come from within…but he never found it.

I was my father’s only child. My parents divorced when I was three-years old. Even though this occurred, I never knew what it was like to not have a father. My father was more involved in my life than I could have ever hoped him to be. He was always there for me…always.

I think back to this past summer when I was alone for a week in my house for the first time since having my children and being married to my husband. My father knew how bad I was hurting and it made him upset to see me ache for the family I was missing. I am missing him now.

No words will ever be able to explain the wonderful person my father was. Although I am biased, he truly was a remarkable man. At his celebration of life, there were over 150 people in attendance. Many of those people in attendance were life-long friends, students who rode the school bus he drove, and relatives. Can you believe my first-fiancé and his parents attended his service? They did!

I know my father is in a better place; where he can build as many model tanks as he’d like, watch as many episodes of “Hill Street Blues” as he’d like, chat with my grandparents, and play ball with his dogs. He always said that when he died, those were the things he imagined he would be able to do once he got to Heaven. I hope he is able to do all of that, and anything else his heart desires. I miss him…and I always will.