Living Without Him

What fears have you overcome and how?

One of my biggest fears was realized when death came knocking and was forced to live apart from my grandpa. He was such a big part of my life growing up, filling both the role of grandfather and dad when I was young.

In 1st grade, fresh from retirement from his role as an athletic director, he suited up he said for his most important job yet – picking me up from school. Every day he lined up his truck in the parking lot with coffee and newspaper in hand, chuckling to himself that he was the only “old guy” there in a sea of minivans and stay-at-home moms.

I got used to his presence, whether it was the car rides home from school with a serenade of his music, usually The Brothers Four, or another singing group he liked in college. Sometimes it was Willie Nelson, Vince Gill, could be Alabama. If there was a quartet performance coming up, he would practice his part as the high tenor of The King’s Men gospel quartet. After school, he might teach me how to hit a baseball properly or we would wash the car. When I got a pet rabbit in 3rd grade, Papa was by my side caring for the rabbit like it was his own. He built me a swingset and went to every chorus content, home volleyball game, art show, open house, jog-a-thon, etc.

As I grew older, and my mom bought her own house, our relationship had to change because instead of seeing him at the breakfast table and after school, I had to be intentional. I talked to him and Grandma after school on the phone. I’d visit them on the weekends and on breaks from school, I always knew I was welcome to be there. On Saturday mornings, we made a standing date to get breakfast at a local diner. We had a special order, he would order eggs, bacon, and toast with an extra plate. I ordered the pancakes and we’d split the lot. He taught me how to ride a bike, so why wouldn’t I look to him to teach me how to drive? It just made sense. Moving into college we had pizza lunch dates, where we’d discuss my classes and his current readings. In the fall, he was my football game buddy.

It was his opinion I cared the most about, from what career choice I made to the boy I started dating, and was getting pretty fond of junior year. When that boy asked me to marry him, Kyle became part of our little circle. I knew time existed, and the limitations of age and health would get us eventually, but when death came to take Papa away, I realized how scary it was to think of carrying on without him. It felt impossible. Unnatural.

Today is the third anniversary and I’m relieved that I feel okay, as weird as it is to be okay. I didn’t think I could find this place of being okay. Overcoming my fear took practice. When death happens you don’t really get a chance to prepare. The moment it happens there is no going back and it’s weird.

Though the fig tree should not blossom,
    nor fruit be on the vines,
the produce of the olive fail
    and the fields yield no food,
the flock be cut off from the fold
    and there be no herd in the stalls,
yet I will rejoice in the Lord;
    I will take joy in the God of my salvation.
God, the Lord, is my strength;
    he makes my feet like the deer’s;
    he makes me tread on my high places.
Habakkuk 3:17-19 ESV

What helped me get through this fear the most was the support to keep walking forward, my support came from the Lord and my wonderful friends (and best friend, Kyle). I had to believe that God’s promises were good. Like the words of Tauren Wells’ song “God’s Not Done” I had to trust that there was more for me coming than the dead end, I felt stuck in. Fear is a liar, as Zach Williams writes, and pushing the fear back into its place was what ultimately helped me. But this journey has been three years of hard work and there are still moments where I feel like I’ve made zero progress. That’s when I remember Habakkuk 3:17-19 and Lamentations 3:22-24. It’s a tough road, but I am learning to feel the emotions instead of being afraid of them.

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;
    his mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
    great is your faithfulness.
“The Lord is my portion,” says my soul,
    “therefore I will hope in him.”
Lamentations 3:22-24

June 5, 2023

#25 – Glasses, S-Class & Book of Tea

The sweetest package arrived early Thursday morning! I saw pure bliss for my tired and angry eyes – new glasses with fresh blue light blockers. My eyes were fried. Had been frying for weeks without me noticing. It happened slowly, building, draining, and then bam my eyes let me know, yes indeed, it was time to get new lenses. If not I think they would have gone on strike. Those headaches are such a nuisance. The aching of tired muscles around my eyes, and how heavy my blue frames, were the perfect combo for a week of migraine woes. But alas, it’s in the past and I am thrilled. For a few reasons! The new spectacles are super light. They are a fun style I wanted to try out after seeing Changbin wear this look for a stage performance, and I got the cutest dust cloth of a bun wearing glasses and a tie.

With the eye fry though, getting worse with time on my computer or phone, I took last week to give my eyes a break from screens until the new frames came. And it turned into a tremendous creative recharge time. I knocked out my open sewing projects, finishing my backlog of stretch-knit fabric items floating on their own island of procrastination. This was a problem because I had real projects for friends to work on and their procrastination island was taking up valuable real estate on my worktable. So it was time, and without the prompt of my lens wearing it may have been another month before I finished the stretch knit pieces. It was a good thing. I also used the time to sketch out potential maps for a novel idea I have. Well, two novel ideas, actually. I developed two plots and worlds, flushed out in my notebook with the settings, names, and timelines of the plot I want to write. Once I decide on which project I should move forward on, I’m excited to share it with you.

I’ve noticed taking a break, even just for several days in a row of not writing, my brain feels rusty and I feel clunky with my words. This skill of writing is so much more like a discipline of exercise than an art form sometimes.

To recharge my mind, and get those creative writing juices flowing hopefully better than before, I realized I should get back into reading to be immersed in fiction in order to learn from others what it takes to write a good original story. Someone I admire, without finishing the book yet, is the work of Judy I. Lin. I started her novel, A Magic Steeped in Poison back in September 2022. With my Autumn/Winter Collection sewing schedule I put it aside to keep my deadlines – it seriously pulled me in and plan to write a bigger appreciation post for her work. I jumped back into the story this weekend and dang – being fully immersed in a fantastical story with such layered culture and characters – it is just pure joy. I forgot how wonderful reading can be. With the final act of the book before me, I hunger for more of the story. I can’t wait to jump back in this week and carry onward into the sequel of the Book of Tea Series – A Venom Dark and Sweet.

The cherry on top of this weekend though was the S-Class M/V from Stray Kids along with 9 new songs! I absolutely adore the 5-Star comeback, from the style choices to the music. It really showed their range. The bonus content of the band reacting to the S-Class music video and unboxing their album together was the wholesome coziness I needed before today. Seriously, if I.N. is smiling, how can anyone frown? I needed that going into today, especially. It’s a day I remember a lot of pain and loss, but although how small it may be, the joy of a favorite band releasing a new album with their unique charm has been a wonderful distraction from the gloom that usually takes hold on this day.

As we begin this new week, I wish you love and hope that it is a good one for you.

June 5, 2023

#16 – Florence, a True Friend

I was looking for an image on Unsplash, something that would represent such a special lady. We had such a short time together that I realized I didn’t have a photo with her. But I was thinking about what she taught me, what she loved, and I remembered a conversation we had a few years ago about the changing seasons. I love fall, from the sights of painted fiery leaves to the crisp air. I find it to be a spectacular beauty, but she said that fall has always made her sad since she was a little girl. Florence said something that stuck with me, “I don’t like fall because you are watching all the beautiful leaves and flowers die away. Spring has always been my favorite because everything comes back to life.” I hadn’t thought about that way before. Now, as she is gone and I see signs of spring everywhere I look, I feel the warmth of her friendship in the flowers that seem to pop up anywhere and everywhere. The birds that call and the trees that bud, it is beautiful.

She was my great aunt, two generations older than me, but someone that understood how my mind worked better than any relative ever had. She just got me. I got to know her as an adult after I moved back to the Greater Pittsburgh Area in 2021, not long after her husband passed away. She was my grandma’s younger sister, and I was drawn to her company after losing my mentor, my grandma. But what I discovered was a warm friendship, a safe harbor during a time that was a transition to life after death. Through her friendship, I learned how to be a good friend again. To make time for people and open up even if I was feeling low. She would remind me to give as much as I take, which has helped me be brave and seek out new friendships where in the past I would have been too shy to put myself out there.

Florence inspired me to not see the challenges in life as a roadblock but to make the best of the circumstances you have. She had a tenacity and a fierce spirit of adventure, at 80 years old planning a trip back to Ireland to see our relatives at the family farm. As a young adult, she took a solo trip to Europe, in a similar way I did the same when I was 17. She understood the desire to see the world and soak up the wonderful possibilities it had to offer. Florence understood my love to try new food, garden, make my own clothes, and be determined while still treating others with dignity and respect. She empathized with my concerns about starting a business, with the desire to simply give my garments to people who really need them instead of wanting to make a profit. Through her stories, I learned that sewing and food preservation are two skills that I have, that her mom also had. I felt such a connection to my ancestors through our talks, and now I know I am keeping traditions alive. She gifted me my first working sewing machine and set me up for success when I didn’t feel confident enough to take the leap.

I wish we had more time here on Earth, but I am glad to have made such a deep friendship in the time we did have. The lessons she taught me during our time together will bless my life for years to come. I hope to be like her and when I leave this Earth to have made a positive impact on those around me. To inspire love and zest for life in my friends and family. Thank you, dearest friend. You will be missed.

April 11, 2023

#2 – Missing

I think the hardest part of the grieving process for me has been settling into life without the ones I love. I knew that it would feel strange continuing life without my grandparents because they were my real parents and that is a big space to fill once those nurturing figures are no longer here to support you. I think about them often. Like today, when the sun shines brightly through my window with a strength that warms my skin as I sit at my sewing table. The warmth of love is one of those tangible things that death strips of this world.

It’s not all bad, the warmth of the sunshine reminds me of those core memories. Moments I may not recall without the prompt of warmth and light, like sitting upstairs in the loft where the big windows of their living room washed the house in beaming brightness. On days like this grandma would hang the laundry outside on two long rows. From my swingset, I saw the sheets dance in the billowing breeze of a warm summer day. But if I hold on to the feeling of the sun on my skin, my mind walks deeper into the library of memories zig-zagging my brain, and selects a deeper track.

Summer morning. Sunshine. Walking around the park, me riding a bike flanked by my cousins while my grandparents discussed the history, the beauty of the sights, the sounds of the birds. Warm. Cozy. Sitting in the loft on a wintery sunny day after baking 10 tea-ring pastries (a big ring of cinnamon rolls that remain uncut to resemble a wreath) with my grandparents sitting beside me on the couch. We share a round of Hershey nuggets most likely for our hard work. Especially Papa who watched us bake from the counter, sitting on a high stool, there for the conversation and the atmosphere.

In the small moments of my day, three years later, I still think of them and I wonder if that will ever change. It no longer makes me tear up, which I like. I don’t enjoy crying. The missing is here to stay. It’s like the longing we feel for heaven and closeness with our Savior. The world is missing something, but the reminders of unconditional love evoked by the warmth of sunlight on my skin pulls me out of whatever task I am working on for a quiet moment of reflection. I reflect on the blessings I have experienced from the love I received here on earth and rejoice that it is not the end. I remember that I am not alone, because the Spirit lives in me and is filling me with love from my Creator.

“But let all who take refuge in you rejoice;
    let them sing joyful praises forever.
Spread your protection over them,
    that all who love your name may be filled with joy
For you bless the godly, O Lord;
    you surround them with your shield of love.”
Psalm 5:11-12, NLT

March 1, 2023