And again, I rediscover my blog
Here we are again ... months after the last post and I had totally forgotten I even had a blog. Then my friend, Tanna, (www.texasfarmgirl.com) mentioned she had updated her blog. I had forgotten about her blog as well. I was just having a conversation about using technology with my friend, Beverly, and she said I had pulled away from the telephone to using email, then to Facebook... so to be funny, I thought I'd do a blog and send her a link just to make her laugh. Funny was on me ... I already had a blog!
So, here it is summer in Texas. very very hot and the last time I posted was December. I'd been doing a pretty good job there for a few days and then it just abruptly stopped. I looked at the dates and could immediately remember why. That last post was right before Floyd's mother, Karen, passed away. We left for San Antonio for the funeral, the burial and all that goes with it. We buried her on Christmas Eve morning, then drove home in driving rain to make the 5:00 children's Mass at our church.
I had been pretty much fine the whole trip. It was my job to make this trip as easy on Floyd as possible. I packed, handled the kids, kept the baby quiet through the service, made sure he had time with relatives and his Dad, talked with everyone, explained things to my children and drove most of the way home.
Held it together pretty well. Anyone who knows me well, knows that Father Paul makes my cry on an average Sunday at Mass and Joan Grabowski singing a HAPPY song can me tears weep out my eyes. My son mocks me and always wants to know what was so sad. What he doesn't understand is that all tears are not tears of sadness. Some are of joy, some are just emotional, then there are those pesky ones that arise from a thought that was triggered inside your head from an external source. To those around you, the conversation is not 'tear-worthy', but to you .... you're a million miles away thinking of your parents or a really happy time and you're moved emotionally. Sometimes my tears are from an overwhelming sense of love, of being so blessed and of being unconditionally accepted for who I am by my friends. That's what happened when I walked into Mass on Christmas Eve.
We got home from the trip, changed back into our church clothes (funeral dresses for the girls) and I had to do something with my hair. Floyd took the girls and Michael to the church ahead of me because they had to be there to be a sheep and a donkey and a choir girl and a server. Yup, the Fazis have a major role in the festivities. I stayed behind, did my hair and makeup and took a few deep breaths. I was pretty together.
I walked into the church about 10 minutes before Mass ... I wasn't even through the door before my friend was walking toward me arms open, smiling at me, welcoming me back after a hard time. It just went from there ... it's not my mother who died, yet I'm the one there blathering like an idiot. I had to leave. I found Colette in the room where all the sheep were getting ready and the poor woman, she had wet hair by the time I was done bawling on her shoulder. But I just let it all go, the 5 days of pent up emotion and restrained sadness and then I sat through the Mass. Never let it be said that it's not possible to white knuckle your way through things. I felt so at home, so loved, so covered in prayer at that church service. It wasn't my loss, we can be honest, Karen and I didn't exactly get along with the greatest of ease, she had been suffering for months and I was glad to know she was released from her pain. Truly relieved for her. The sadness I saw in her husband, son and daughter is why I was crying. I was sad for their loss and for their feelings of grief.
Of course, when you listen to several different people speak about someone who has passed away and each person has such a different take on the life of the deceased it makes you think about what legacy you are leaving behind and what will people say and think about you at your funeral. Feelings of loss at not being able to visit or talk to or see folks come to mind, you can't help but think of your own parents and know that this is going to happen with them at some point, and who will be at their funeral? It got rather morose inside my head at that beautiful Christmas Eve Mass.
Many people blessed us when we got home. A friend went to the store and bought all the fixings for monkey bread because I always make that on Christmas eve to eat on Christmas morning. Her husband bought us the most exquisite bouquet of flowers that lasted forever and I loved looking at them. Someone had left Christmas cookies for us, so Santa could have some.
Christmas Day was not the usual happy time that it is in this house. It was a pretty low key day. God is good though. I NEVER have my shopping done until a couple days before Christmas. This year I had everything ready to go for everyone. He knew. It could have been a pretty empty Christmas if He hadn't guided me before. In the end, we got through it.
Pop (Floyd's Dad) has been to visit several times, come to help, come to play, mostly seems to come to work, but that's what those Floyds do (his name is Floyd also). He has a chance now to become a large part of our children's lives and I think that is really great. My kids still aren't really sure what to make of a relative who shows up and hangs out...but they're learning .... gradually everyone will feel everyone else out and they'll figure out what's going on. I love it.
So...in late June, that's my post about Christmas. Ah, good ole stream of consciousness.
So, here it is summer in Texas. very very hot and the last time I posted was December. I'd been doing a pretty good job there for a few days and then it just abruptly stopped. I looked at the dates and could immediately remember why. That last post was right before Floyd's mother, Karen, passed away. We left for San Antonio for the funeral, the burial and all that goes with it. We buried her on Christmas Eve morning, then drove home in driving rain to make the 5:00 children's Mass at our church.
I had been pretty much fine the whole trip. It was my job to make this trip as easy on Floyd as possible. I packed, handled the kids, kept the baby quiet through the service, made sure he had time with relatives and his Dad, talked with everyone, explained things to my children and drove most of the way home.
Held it together pretty well. Anyone who knows me well, knows that Father Paul makes my cry on an average Sunday at Mass and Joan Grabowski singing a HAPPY song can me tears weep out my eyes. My son mocks me and always wants to know what was so sad. What he doesn't understand is that all tears are not tears of sadness. Some are of joy, some are just emotional, then there are those pesky ones that arise from a thought that was triggered inside your head from an external source. To those around you, the conversation is not 'tear-worthy', but to you .... you're a million miles away thinking of your parents or a really happy time and you're moved emotionally. Sometimes my tears are from an overwhelming sense of love, of being so blessed and of being unconditionally accepted for who I am by my friends. That's what happened when I walked into Mass on Christmas Eve.
We got home from the trip, changed back into our church clothes (funeral dresses for the girls) and I had to do something with my hair. Floyd took the girls and Michael to the church ahead of me because they had to be there to be a sheep and a donkey and a choir girl and a server. Yup, the Fazis have a major role in the festivities. I stayed behind, did my hair and makeup and took a few deep breaths. I was pretty together.
I walked into the church about 10 minutes before Mass ... I wasn't even through the door before my friend was walking toward me arms open, smiling at me, welcoming me back after a hard time. It just went from there ... it's not my mother who died, yet I'm the one there blathering like an idiot. I had to leave. I found Colette in the room where all the sheep were getting ready and the poor woman, she had wet hair by the time I was done bawling on her shoulder. But I just let it all go, the 5 days of pent up emotion and restrained sadness and then I sat through the Mass. Never let it be said that it's not possible to white knuckle your way through things. I felt so at home, so loved, so covered in prayer at that church service. It wasn't my loss, we can be honest, Karen and I didn't exactly get along with the greatest of ease, she had been suffering for months and I was glad to know she was released from her pain. Truly relieved for her. The sadness I saw in her husband, son and daughter is why I was crying. I was sad for their loss and for their feelings of grief.
Of course, when you listen to several different people speak about someone who has passed away and each person has such a different take on the life of the deceased it makes you think about what legacy you are leaving behind and what will people say and think about you at your funeral. Feelings of loss at not being able to visit or talk to or see folks come to mind, you can't help but think of your own parents and know that this is going to happen with them at some point, and who will be at their funeral? It got rather morose inside my head at that beautiful Christmas Eve Mass.
Many people blessed us when we got home. A friend went to the store and bought all the fixings for monkey bread because I always make that on Christmas eve to eat on Christmas morning. Her husband bought us the most exquisite bouquet of flowers that lasted forever and I loved looking at them. Someone had left Christmas cookies for us, so Santa could have some.
Christmas Day was not the usual happy time that it is in this house. It was a pretty low key day. God is good though. I NEVER have my shopping done until a couple days before Christmas. This year I had everything ready to go for everyone. He knew. It could have been a pretty empty Christmas if He hadn't guided me before. In the end, we got through it.
Pop (Floyd's Dad) has been to visit several times, come to help, come to play, mostly seems to come to work, but that's what those Floyds do (his name is Floyd also). He has a chance now to become a large part of our children's lives and I think that is really great. My kids still aren't really sure what to make of a relative who shows up and hangs out...but they're learning .... gradually everyone will feel everyone else out and they'll figure out what's going on. I love it.
So...in late June, that's my post about Christmas. Ah, good ole stream of consciousness.
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