Beckies Spot

I smiled as I said that out loud. As I went room to room greeting my patients, I wrote that on their boards. “Oh-four, oh-six, oh-eight.”  It was the date that Sunday.  I was at work, but that day it wasn’t just ‘work.’  The night before, I had stayed up all night praying.  Literally, all night.  Asking God for mercy and strength.  See, Daddy was sick, and no one in my family knew just how sick he was- other than myself.  He was in the very same hospital that I worked in and he was on my patient list.  I knew how sick he was, I knew the pain would come for him, and I could only pray for mercy and strength.

That evening, Daddy passed away.  I remember standing there, me holding one hand and my sister holding the other…..watching him.  Knowing that it was only a matter of minutes, if that.  I stood there praying silently that God would spare him the pain I see on patient’s faces every day.  Begging God to wrap my family in His arms.  And then He was gone.  Just like that.

I had just lost another one whom I loved so dearly….and so, in the depths of my being, I knew it was the end all, be all.  I was too familiar with the routine that my family would stumble through in the upcoming week and months.  That night, I went home and began the routine.  The phone calls were made, so many tears were cried and then I slept a deeper sleep than I ever had before.  From pure exhaustion, from emotional destruction, from an overwhelming sadness.  The week was full of family and friends surrounding us with love and celebrating Daddy’s life.  And then the real sadness kicked in.  Back to the same old stuff….except that it wasn’t.  We were forced to go on with our lives….because only the deceased are relieved of their duties.  After the family and friends were on their way, we still had to deal with so much.  Seeing ‘his’ chair that he would never again rock in.  Finding ‘his’ little stash of misc things.  Going through all of his things.  Not a single person in my immediate family made it through the months following Daddy’s death without at least one complete breakdown.  Some of us relied on Xanax to get us through, others on alcohol and a little vitamin called THC and one of us relied soley on prayer.  Each of us dealt with it in our own way- trying not to lean on those who had traveled the road with us.  We all wanted each other to think that we were just fine.  It was far from the truth.

In the months following ‘his’ death, Heather and I moved Mom in with us.  It was so hard for her to be in their home.  The home they had built together and surrounded by their things.  I packed up their life into totes and put it all away. (Which my mom was both grateful and incredibly resentful towards me for).  After a bit, Brent and I moved in to ‘their’ house with a friend of ours….and we did our best to make it our own.

At first, it was incredibly hard to see the mail that kept coming for Daddy.  Now it’s hard to accept that it doesn’t come.  We still encounter the random person who doesn’t know ‘he’ is gone.  In the beginning, when someone would ask how he was, my answer was always “He’s been ultimately healed.”  Just goes to show you how things change.  In January, I was hanging out with my friend Kristin, her brother’s friend Jeff, Stacy and her boyfriend “Buster.”  Buster’s dad and mine worked together for many many years, and I hadn’t seen him since his own father’s funeral years ago.  While sitting around over a drink he says “So how the hell is your dad?  What’s that old coot up to these days?”  Everyone else there turned to look at me and awaited my reaction.  I simply said “Well, he’s dead now.”  Kristin, in her alcohol induced state of semi-consciousness, dropped her drink.  It was the truth and there wasn’t any easier of a way to put it to him.  Of course he felt like an ass and then wanted to know what happened.  We talked and it was fine.  While I know my voice shook, I didn’t shatter.

I had a point several months ago where it pained me to really wash my vanity in my bathroom.  You see, there were a few of Daddy’s whiskers behind the faucet…I could see them, I knew they were there.  But I didn’t want to wipe them away.  For if I did, they would never reappear.  I came to a point where I wiped them off the vanity and into my hand, took them outside and blew them into the wind.  I cried the whole time.  And I thought that perhaps that was the last little bit of him I would find.  There are many many things in my house that were his….I like it that way and they fit in well.  I chose to keep them as a reminder of the man who I learned to look to with adoration in my adult years, not just in innocent childhood.  Just last week, I was cleaning my bathroom, top to bottom and found a little basket up on top of the cupboard above my toilet.  It was in plain view, but I hadn’t noticed it before.  I got up there and pulled the basket into my hand and just stared at what was in it.  A bottle of ‘his’ aftershave.  I opened it up and smelled it.  It was the aftershave he wore all the time!  Half full and dutsy….but there it was.  I closed my eyes and smelled it again- for a moment, my world seemed right again.

In the last year, I have gone through a lot of different phases in regards to Daddy’s passing.  I have cried until I had nothing left, I have been angry.  I don’t know who I was angry at- perhaps myself- but I was angry.  I knew that it wasn’t God….for He had only done what I asked and spared Daddy anymore pain.  I went through a period where I didn’t acknowledge his death- a numbness if you will.  I learned to rely on my family and my friends.  They have been my shoulders to cry on, my support when I couldn’t stand on my own and never ending sets of ears.  When I get into a funk and can’t pull myself out of it, they wait.  They wait for me to realize they are still there and they make themselves available to me day or night.  They are understanding if I don’t want to talk about it, or if I do.  Without my family who are my friends and my friends who are my family, I would not be okay.

Brent has taken over the role of “the man in my life.”  There is no other man in my life who means so much.  Daddy’s opinion mattered….and while “what would Daddy think?” is always in my mind, I now look to Brent for that guidance.  He is the man in my life.  He was also the last man that Daddy gave his blessing for me to marry.  And who knows?  Not today, but I’m not saying “never.”

I have learned to prioritize and I know what matters and doesn’t.  I have let go of things this past year that I usually would not have let go of.  I have faced demons.  I believe that there is nothing in my life that was as hard as losing him.  He wasn’t a sports icon.  Not a famous politician.  Not a Doctor or a lawyer.  He did, however, teach me to play softball, teach me what was right and wrong, he patched up my wounds and his law was his law.  He was a hard worker who spent many years of his life alone on the road, providing a decent living for his family.  He loved his family and he loved Jesus.  I couldn’t have asked for anything better in a parent.  He was my all american hero.

If I was to be asked if I would trade a year of my life for one more hour with him, my answer would be “no.”  I would not want to say goodbye again.  I would not want him back in the pain he was in.  If I could have him back for the rest of my life and have him be whole and healed?  Well, see, I’ve got that.  I just have to wait a while longer.  It is through my salvation that I know I will, once again, be reunited with him.

I miss him so much.  But I know that he is better off now than he ever was.  And that is what I can be grateful for.

I’ve been reading a lot lately.  Cramming in a few minutes as sleep is approaching, just a page or two on the porch or- on my days off- a whole book.  I’ve been on a real “Jennifer Weiner” Kick.  I had never read any of her books, or even heard of her until I got a bunch of books dumped in my lap.  My mom’s boss had mentioned she had books to get rid of, and my mom told her that I loved to read.  She packed up close to a thousand dollars in books and sent them my way.  There were a few that I had read, but more that I hadn’t.  So I started with just one book by Jennifer, and thus began my obsession.

Jennifer is a writer that uses real life experience as her inspiration.  Not everything that happens in her books has happened to her or people she knows in real life, but most of the main events are inspired that way.  And I love it.

The last book I finished was called “Good in Bed.”  Now, if you have never read this book, I highly suggest you do.  Jennifer chooses a main character named “Cannie” who is a plus size woman.  Now I’ve read a lot of books where girl is over weight and un happy.  To find her happiness, she must lose a lot of weight.  Not in this book. Oh no.  Cannie starts out a plus size woman and believes that the world fights against her because of her size.  That she can never be ‘acceptable’ to society and mainly men because she is a larger than life woman.  Through a series of events- losing her boyfriend, finding out she is pregnant by him and he doesn’t want anything to do with her or their baby, nearly losing her daughter through a very premature childbirth, and coming to terms with her father’s abandonment, she finds happiness.  Cannie starts out as a plus size woman and at the end of the book, she still is.  But she has found happiness anyway.

This has gotten me to thinking about my own life.  I am a plus size woman.   My ex husbands have told me this, certain family members have reitterated it and just last week a size two nurse at my doctor’s office confirmed it.  I didn’t need her to tell me that I am fat, but she did.  Using those exact words.  Since then, I have been in overload.  I have, yet again, changed what I eat and when I eat.  I have gotten back on an exercise routine.  I have bounced ideas off of my friends.  And yes, I did the unthinkable- something I haven’t done in ten years and stood before the mirror naked.  I have cried for hours, and I have tried to laugh it off.

But the truth is, I am going to do something about it.  People, I am not a plus size woman because I am lazy.  I do not eat constantly, I am not a junk food whore.  I can’t tell you why I am the way I am.  But, I am not going to sit around and do nothing about it.  I know that the people who love me, love me for who I am.  The size I am.  Not for what I can be, or what I was.  Just for me.  And if there are people out there who don’t love me just the way I am…well then they don’t love me at all (because love is unconditional) and piss on them.

I’m not doing this for the ex husband who destroyed the few little pieces of self esteem I may have ever had.  The one who has no business even talking about a woman’s body since he likes men.  I’m not doing this for the size 2 nurse who has never had a battle with weight.  Who thinks that a size 4 could stand to lose a little.  I am not doing this for how others look at me.  I am doing this for how I look at me.  I am doing this for me.

I’m not saying that I am losing weight to find happiness.  Oh no.  I’m already happier to have made this decision for me.  Not for them.  Not for anyone but me.  I have my own inspiration and my own goals.  I don’t need theirs.

This is for me.

Tonight, I open up my email, and in my regular inbox, there is something for me.  The subject line says “We know that you are morbidly obese, and we want to help you.”  Um, okay, thanks.

I actually opened up the email, and it’s the wonderful little letter for the morbidly obese population.  All about how this company understands.  It’s not asking me to buy anything, in fact, it gives me a whole list of interent support groups for the morbidly obese.  What an awesome idea.  Except, I am not morbidly obese.

Now, I had myself a good little laugh about this.  For the most part, I am pretty comfortable with how I look.  A few things here and there could use some change, but I’m not terribly worried about those few things.  Humored, I went to one of the listed websites, and there was this little calculator that tells you how much you need to lose, how big around specific parts of your body need to be (in inches) according to your height and things like that.  So, I fill in all these little things and at the end, I get this whole print out.  All the things I need to change.  And then it says this in the summary part:

“Summary: It is time to take serious action with your body.  If you ever want society to accept you, take to your MD about a dietary aide that will stop you from being hungry, perhaps a sleeping pill to help you sleep through the night to avoid late night binging and consider your surgical options.  In addition, it is time to begin exercising, since you are obviously at the weight you are because of lack of exercise.  Act now, before it’s too late.”

Are you kidding me? That advice is terrible.  And, if I went to talk to my Dr about any of those things, He would laugh at me and tell me that we both know better.

It’s truly sad though…..because society expects a size 4.  Did you know that size 4 os the nations average?  I was unaware.  At least I know.

So, my personal theme is “We don’t need no stinkin men.”  I say it over and over again, trying to convince myself of that.  I like to think I am independent.  The truth of the matter is, there are a few things I need one for.  What prompted this little confession?  Tonight, one of my girlfriends and I were out driving around, catching up.  We pull into this trailer park…because we were thinking we could possibly afford a home there.  That’s beside ther point.  We no sooner pull in and there is a horrific noise and then a repeated “thud” noise.  Okay, I know this noise…sounds like a flat tire.  Only, upon inspection of all four tires, nothing is flat.  Hmmm.  So she says “Watch.”  I say “Watch what?”  She says “I don’t know, just watch.”  Okay….she moves the car.  Three of her wheels move and the rear passenger wheel stays put.  Hm.  So we get on the ground and we’re looking around.  (Let me say that it’s 50 degrees outside and we had about 3 feet of snow this morning and it’s been melting all day…so we’re soaked already).  We can’t figure it out and it’s dark, and people are peering at us through the windows of their luxury homes.  So, I pick up my princess studded cell phone and call my little brother.  Who sends me to voicemail.  I call back….and he sends me to voicemail.  Great, at least I know I can count on him.  It was 12 am….like I was just calling to chat.  So then I call my friend Joel….who is 35 minutes away at the time but will head right home to help me out.  My girl and I try moving the car again, but the wheel still wouldn’t move!  In the mean time, I called my guy who came up with tools, a couple flashlights and a jacket for me.  Now, he got on the ground and looked around, we defneded our loitering to a very curious woman in a nightgown, leather jacket and cowboy boots.  Yes, cowboy boots.  So, my guy says “Why don’t you try moving it again?”  She does, we watch, the wheel is still stuck.  He says “Put it in reverse.”  She does, and after another thud, the thing stops being stupid and finally moves.  So, I’m going to ride home with her and he’s going to follow us.  You touch the gas to make it go, and when it gets to 10 mph, the things starts to seize up again….okay, we won’t do that.

That’s pretty much where it ended.  Now….he did not do anything that we didn’t do….yet the car friggin moved.  It’s a conspiracy in my opinion, but….apparently we needed him to be there.  The mere prescence of a man made the car move…of this I am convinced.

Something else that happened to me just today.  It reminds me that I am but a tiny little feminine being that can’t stand on her own two feet….or tippy toes rather.   The outside light on our porch was out today. “I can do this” is what I thought to myself.  I stand on the very tips of my toes and reach into the top of the shade thingy.  I am greeted with spider webs- to which I only slightly cringed.  I turned the bulb around and around while the corner of the shade thingy dug into my wrist, and tada!  The bulb came out!  I triumphantly and ceremoniously threw the old bulb aside and grabbed the new one.  Standing back on the tips of my toes, I turn and turn to get the new bulb in.  It won’t go any further, so I am done.  I flip the switch and…nothing.  “Maybe it’s broken” I say.  My guy then reaches up into the shade thingy and tada….it works.  Once again….the lightbulb is intimidated by the mere prescence of a man and decides to work.

Another thing I need a man for…..and yes, I realize just how pathetically feminine this makes me sound…..opening jars.  Yes, I have muscles.  And, in case they don’t feel like working, I have one of those jar-lid-gripper-things.  Guaranteed to work!  Only, it dsoesn’t.  Without my guy, I would not have banana peppers to munch on at 11:30 at night.

So you see…..while batteries can take care of most of what we would need from a man…….we do need one every now and again.

I’ve been reading this book called “Inside my heart” written by Robin McGraw (Dr. Phil’s wife).  I have never been a fan of Dr. Phil.  There are some things that man has said that I just don’t understand.  I’m sure he would be willing to explain it for me.  In addition, my former mother-in-law stated over and over again that she raised her son by the teachings of Dr. Phil.  If this was true, I wanted nothing to do with Dr. Phil for that reason alone.  When I first bought the book, I bought one for me and another for one of my girllfriends.  I had thumbed through the book, a page caught my eye, and after a minute I knew this would be a fantastic book.  So I purchase the books, and when I get home, settle in to begin reading it.  I learn in the first 5 minutes that she is the wife of Dr. Phil and I thought to myself “Uh oh.”  Well, I spent the money, so I might as well read it, right?

I am not writing this blog to endorse it or anyone involved in it, but I do want to tell you a few things about this book.  First of all…..this book is supposed to be about “Choosing to live with passion and purpose” and it says so right on the front cover.  When I first started reading the book, I thought perhaps it should have been listed as an autobiography.  There are all sorts of little stories about Robin, her husband, their boys and everyone and thing in between.  It gets and keeps your attention.  That is a good thing, but as I was getting a few chapters into it, I wasn’t seeing how it was supposed to help me.  How am I going to benefit from knowing she accidentally diluted formula that wasn’t supposed to be diluted?  Where are the instructions for how to choose to live with passion and purpose?  And how do I find those things?

But as I neared the middle of the book, I began to understand.  She speaks of how she knew her purpose was to be a wife and mother….but as she becamse those things, she realized that it was her exact purpose to be the mother of her sons….the wife of Dr Phil.  Not just anyone’s wife and mother….but to the exact sons she has, and to the exact husband she has…..no one else.  And I thought about that for a moment.  I could relate!  A few years ago, I was really seeking my purpose.  I knew that God had a plan for me, and while I was working through “The purpose driven life,” I came to understand that God’s plan would play out in His time.  But I wanted to know then.  I was really seeking.  I was praying and fasting and begging God to just show me a little bit of what He had planned for me.  And over coffee one night, a few months after moving back to NY from the mid west, one fo my girlfriends that knows me best said to me “I don’t know what God has planned for you for your entire life, but I can see clearly what your purpose is now.”  Oh really.  She went on….”You Daddy is your purpose.  Parents take care of their kids and then kids take care of their parents.  You do that and do that well.  He needs you right now, and no one else in the world can do what you do for him.”  Hmmm.  was that true?  My mom, God bless her, took care of him in every way you can imagine…ways that you probably can’t imagine too.  My sister, Heather, put just as much time, effort and love into him as I did.  What did my friend mean when she said that no one else could do what I do for him?  And then I realized that because I am my own person, and because I am unique…..she was right.  I have different views an opinions, I have a different personality….and apparently, I don’t know how to make spaghetti, oatmeal or biscuits.  Those three things were jokes between Daddy and I (with good reason behind them).  He and I also shared an immense love for music…..and I did not get annoyed at his watching the same music DVD’s over and over again.  I realized that Daddy was my purpose.  He took care of me and then I took care of him.  Because of how much time I got to spend with him, and the wonderful memories that we shared…..I miss him terribly.  It has been 10 months since his passing, and I still find myself wanting to go see him.  Still have to bite my tongue to keep myself from telling mom to tell Daddy I love him when I am on the phone with her.  And, their phone number is still in my phone under “Daddy and Mom.”  But, he was my purpose.  And you know, I could not have done for anyone else what I did for him.  He could not have done for anyone else what he did for me….probably without even knowing he was doing it.

After he passed away, I once again began to seek my purpose.  I still do not know what it is.  But I know that God has one for me.  ANd I do not believe God is out to hurt us and leave us behind.  I know that for all the things I’ve been through, He will reward me.  He will.  There is something amazing, beyond my comprehension, that He has for me.

In the mean time, I keep reading encouraging books about faith, purpose and hope.  This book happens to be a great source of strength for me.  Turns out all those little stories she tells are the way she has learned her purpose.  She speaks of how you cannot control others, only yourself.  She gives examples of how she has worked through learning that the hard way.  She writes so candidly that you actually feel like you are having coffee with her.  It is unbelievable how refreshed I feel when I put the book down.  I am not yet finished with the book…..I am savoring it like a chocolate.  This is one of those books that I will read again later.  It has been encouraging to me to read that I am not alone in struggling to find my purpose.

And you know, the way she talks about Dr. Phil….I’ve been watching his show when I am home…just to see.  And you know, I’d like to say it’s a lot different than it was a couple of years ago when I watched it and decided that I didn’t want anything to do with it.  But the truth is, I am a lot different.  I understand what he is saying now, and that’s half of the battle.  It didn’t relate to me years ago, and it does now.  What a concept.

As I continue to read, or at minimum when I finish, I will write more.  It’s already worth my money over and over again.

I have a girlfriend who reads my blog, and she asked me to write about what to do in between boyfriends.  How to deal with a break up and how to move on in life.

I can only write what I know.  And the truth is, there has been very little time in my adult life where I haven’t been in a committed relationship.  I have been in a few long term relationships (two of three which turned into marriages).   I could sit here and type about how you could go with the old saying “To get over one guy, you have to get under another.”  But I am not a firm believer in that, and I would not solicit whoring ones self out just to feel better about a break up.  I could type about using the time to find out who you really are and what you are really looking for in life before trying to figure out what kind of guy you want to be with.  While I do support that, I’m not going to go into detail about it right now.

I’d like to take a different approach on it, and give you a little bit of humor.  Breakups usually aren’t easy, so you may be hurting over one- even if it was long ago.  I’m going to relate some things that men have done to my friends and I that have either helped us get over him quicker or has gotten us back together.

For one of my friends, she told her boyfriend that she was sick of him being a mooch- playing video games while she was at work, not doing anything to help around the house and things of that nature.  She told him they needed to take a break (the dating kind).  He left.  For  6 whole hours.  When he returned, he brought her a deep fryer.  That his mom had bought him for Christmas.  Saying he wanted his baby to have the best.  Now, she was so stunned at this that she said nothing.  He, however, took her silence as a form of acceptance, and was back.  While it was his attempt to bring the relationship back together, it is just a bit of comic relief for her now.  The relationship is over and he is with a girl he was cheating on my friend with.  Oh well yay.  She, however, kept the deep fryer and lves to look at it and think about what an idiot her boyfriend was.

I had my own personal experience where my partner wanted to break up, and I was not willing to do this.  You see, we were married….a marriage that he rushed because he didn’t want to ‘live in sin with me.”  So we got married months before we had planned on.  Two months after our marriage, he stood on the patio telling me he was gay.  I was his cover.  I do not believe in divorce, but if you know me, you know that statement is kind of ironic.  I did not want to let him go.  After a near suicide attempt, I became determined to make it work.  He, on the other hand, was determined to get out quick.  So, he brought his boyfriend home and let me catch him.  That did the trick.  Now, I know what the Bible says about revenge being the Lord’s, but I didn’t think God would mind if I got just a little.  So, months later, when he thought it was all over, I sent pictures of him and another man to his fire and brimstone parents.  Blurred out the other guy’s face and sent pictures that let the viewer with no doubts about what was going on.  His parents sent their near 30 year old son off to an anti gay retreat.  :)  The ironic part is that a few years later, his boy friend (the same that he was cheating on me with) left him.  For a woman from what I hear.

Then there was the friend that was living with her boyfriend and had been with him for over two years.  She announces one day that she if terrified of how serious things have gotten and she thinks she needs some time to think.  She tells him that she is going to live on campus for the next semester just to give them a little space…..they’ll still be together.  His argument?  “But who is going to cook for me and do my laundry?” Now honestly, I don’t know how she turned that argument down.  What, are you kidding me??????  Enough said on that one. (PS- she did not fall for it)

I guess the point of this is so that those of you who are going through break ups know that you are not alone.  I’m not about to go on a tyrant about how men are scum- that would be all together too easy at the moment.  But I will say that we all have at least on relationship in our lives where the breakup really hurts us more than it hurts them.  Our emotions are different and we see things in a different light.  It’s a woman thing.

I could write about revenge for a few more days….or I could move on.  I’m basically moving on.  Before I do, I want to say just this:

All women have the potential to be backstabbers.  We cannot control what other people do and how others affect us- we can only control our reaction.

I chose, this week, to react in a way that sought out revenge.  Maybe it was wrong, maybe not.  But it sure felt good for me.  But I’m letting it go and moving forward.  What do you want me to write about next?

I laid awake last night, and I thought about the fact that I got backstabbed and that I was hurt so badly by it.  I tried to sleep, but that is all I thought about.

Today, I am still mad.  Well, to be clear, mad at one, hurt by another.  I’m drinking some wild cherry wine…..thinking some more on this.  And I’ll get over it….I always do.  But not before I get even.  That is also something I always do.

Is it wrong to want to tarnish someone who has dragged me through the mud?  Is it wrong to want to smile while I do it?  I know, I know….’be the bigger person.’  Nope.  I wanna be tiny for a change.  And bite some ankles. 

Okay ladies…while this can apply to all genders, I am writing to you.

I don’t have an overabundance of female friends because we are backstabbers and bitches.  It’s been awhile since I felt the rage I am feeling tonight.  Toward one of my ladies.  :)  Here we go.

I understand that when you are in a relationship with someon, it is natural to ‘take their side.’  But….I would think it is also natural to listen to everyone involved before opinions are formed.  Apparently, this is not the case.  A ‘friend’ of mine has backstabbed me….by saying things that are not true.  And, they said these things to another of my ‘friends’ who she happens to be in a relationship with.  Out of nowhere, judgements have been formed, and I am a bitch.

Let me be the first to say that I am a bitch.  We all have it in us….I have a lot of it in me.  :)  But I am a good person.  And I don’t make it a habit of taking advantage of my friends and their kindness.  For someone to say otherwise, they really don’t know me and should plan to be discontinued from my life.  Immediately.  If this is you and you are reading this, watch for upcoming changes.  Subtle ones, but you’ll know.

And PS- don’t ever think that the truth doesn’t get back to me.  Ever.  Because it does.  And, this is no threat, but a promise, I just became your worst nightmare.

Have a good night.

I wrote last night about the excitement of making my kitchen over, and making it mine.  And I am excited about it.  But tonight, as I stood in the kitchen, looking at the walls, having finally decided on the shade of red……I was trying to picture it.  And you know, my heart gave- just a little bit…..when I realized that I am, yet again, removing a little part of Daddy.  He and mom lived here until he died.  Then my brother and mom lived here for a bit- and now Brent, James and I are here.  Nothing is the same really.  Mom and I redid the bathroom shortly after Daddy died- that was her project that I helped with.  The living room looks very different….the dining room doesn’t look at all like it did….the whole upstairs…..what’s really left is the kitchen.  And now I’m doing that over too.

It was to be done because I wanted to really make it mine.  But in doing that, I’m wiping away a lot.  I remember when my mom painted that kitchen, and how Daddy loved the blue.  It was obnoxiously bright to the rest of us- but since his vision was a little it less than perfect, it was just right for him.  Ad I’m taking that away.  I’m making it mine.  I’ll find some way to tie it in.

But in all this, I took a moment to acknowledge that I miss him.  A lot.  Hard to believe that in 2 months and 3 weeks, it will be  a year.  It feels like this morning.