I knew it.

I knew it. I knew this time in my life was going to hit. I said "I hate the losses that are ahead of us". I fear losing family and friends and parents.

It has started.

Aunt Joy died yesterday afternoon. The world is a darker, sadder place. I'm not kidding.

Aunt Joy is Mark's aunt. Good woman. Good aunt. Good mother. Good friend. Good grandmother. Good person.

My heart literally aches for dear Uncle Bob. I want to comfort her children and grandchildren. There is no peace in death. I've heard all the canned answers. You know the ones.  "She's in a better place." "He's out of pain now." Whatever. I've said it before and I'll say it again. I'M SELFISH and I want the people I love around ME.

Mark has never known a life without Aunt Joy in it. And now we do.

In case you're wondering, nope, I didn't do everything right. I used to write letters EVERY SINGLE WEEK to grandparents, aunts, friends, etc. Time got in the way. I had little kids. I was single. I went to school. I stopped.

Time passed.

I started blogging. Aunt Joy called me last year and told me she read my blog all the time.

I vowed to start writing Joy and Bobby again. I NEEDED to tell them how much I love them. I needed them to know they have made a difference in this world. In my world.

I didn't write. I didn't follow my heart. And now Monday is upon me and found me wishing I had done more.

Movie Madness

I absolutely, positively, without a shadow of a doubt LOVE movies. I like them all. Science fictions, comedies, dramas, love stories, animations, shoot 'em ups. Doesn't matter. I love the movie, the popcorn, the coke and Milk Duds, the gathering of friends/family. Most of all I love the escape I get to enjoy for a couple of hours.

My friend Marilyn, says I'm "easily pleased" with movies. I don't really have high expectations in a movie so when I went last weekend to TWO movies (The Croods and 42) and was THRILLED with both of them...sigh...it was WONDERFUL.

We had a birthday shin-dig for Uncle Mike. We all gathered for dinner and not wanting to separate from the festivities, we decided to hit a movie. The only one playing in the time slot we had available was The Croods.

Shelby and Jaden had gone the weekend before. Shelby told me how great it was and that the story reminded her of her relationship with her dad.

I had no idea how spot-on she was.

That movie "had me" in the opening credits. I remember thinking, while munching on my LARGE tub no-butter-popcorn, that they took the Deason family and animated them. Oh man. They especially nailed Mark and Shelby.

Mark has a tendency of seeing the world through his eyes ONLY. If anyone disagrees or has a different vision, well (duh) they are wrong. Enter Shelby. She sees EVERYTHING differently. Drives Mark INSANE. Let's be honest. She drives Mark, Goose and Tyson absolutely batty. A note of reference here: The other day, Goose told me "You did a great job raising up the boys in the family, but the girls are really screwed up." Oh man. I about fell out of my chair laughing. 

The movie is full of tug and pull between the the dad (Grug) and daughter Eep. Grugs belief is "Be afraid of everything." That's how he has protected his family through the years. 

There is a point in the movie where the family becomes separated. Grug is in a cave and he draws a picture of his whole family, then draws himself wrapping his arms around each of them. 

That sums up Mark. Crazy, strong, loyal, and fiercely protective. 

Shelby has realized that her dad is crazy and mad and strong and tender and kind and lectures ALL the time. All of this is to protect her and the rest of us.

Our family is a force. I used to think that all families were like ours. I now believe we are different. I have found the unique qualities of the Deason's and I have not been left wanting.  When the end of the world strikes, the Deason's will be left standing. Because Mark said so.

I'm not going to spoil the movie. Go see it. 

Waiting for Monday

Yesterday, I decided to partake in one of my most favorite guilty pleasures. I went tanning. I know all the "why's and how's and what if's" about why I shouldn't do it. However, I love to go. I love the warmth and the tan (of course). I only find that I go in the Spring. Maybe it's because I'm digging out my short sleeve shirts and (sometimes) wearing my shorts and I HATE my lily-white-glow-in-the-dark skin. So I tan.

While waiting for the tanning bed to empty out and get cleaned, I was thumbing through People magazine when I ran across an article about Marie Osmond and a book she has written about her son that committed suicide in 2010.

I remember watching the Donny and Marie Show when I was a kid. I thought Marie was soooooo pretty. I wanted to dress like her. Sing like her. Roller skate like her. Nope. Never happened. But it was fun to pretend.

So I read the article.

Marie had performed a full week in Las Vegas and was staying at the Flamingo when her phone rang at about 1:30 in the morning. It was the guard at her gate from her Los Angeles home neighborhood. Someone was there from the coroner's office and they were sending someone to see her at the Flamingo in Vegas.

Marie writes:

On February 26, 2010,my sweet son left me, his family, and friends by jumping from the balcony of his eighth floor college apartment in Los Angeles. Even as I write this I want to cry out, "Please, don't let this be true." 

Marie had talked with Michael and they had made plans for Marie to fly home and to visit with him on Monday. Michael killed himself.

I guess the Osmond family gave Michael the nickname "Mallard". Apparently when he was younger he looked like a baby duck to them and the name stuck.

At the end of the article, Marie talked about ducks and said "on top they are serene and beautiful. Below they are paddling like crazy to stay afloat."

I wonder how many mallard ducks walk amongst us.  I worry about the times I think the people I love are fine, but are secretly paddling like crazy to stay afloat. How many times do I think "I'll do it on Monday."

What if Monday doesn't come?

All is right in the world

Mark, Jaden and I leave every morning at 7:15. Mark and Jaden head East towards the High School and I head West towards the freeway. When I get to the end of my street, before I turn right, I take a glance over the railroad tracks to make sure there isn't a car coming and off I go.

All winter as I looked over the tracks, I could see my friends' car warming up. I'm assuming she was warming her car to head to work. EVERY SINGLE TIME I saw her car, I smiled. The world just felt right. You know the feeling. Time is in sync and the stars are aligned correctly.

Rhonda has boys that grew up with my boys. Shelby and Matt Hinkley have been very good friends through the years. The Hinkleys have been a permanent staple in the growing up of the Deason clan. I consider them friends. 

Rhonda and I aren't the go-to-lunch-go-to-a-movie-go-shopping kind of friends. We're just friends. I think she is smart, beautiful, FUNNY, real, a great mom, and all around fantastically fabulous. And I'm guilt free when I see her.

I think we need those kinds of friends in our lives. At times there is so much pressure to "do". I think the "doing" is what I fail most at. I THINK about bringing cookies to new neighbors. I WANT to bring dinner to my Aunt that has cancer or my friend, Pat, that has cancer, or help my neighbor, Celeste, when she is out doing yard work with three little ones tugging and pulling at her trying to gain her attention. But I don't. I'm wrapped up in what I need to do. I juggle work and kids and hubby-ness and dogs and cleaning and gardening and personal time and sleep. Oh sure, I'll feel guilty and say that I feel like I should do more. I don't.

Therefore, I appreciate the smattering of people that are light and fun and free in our lives. The kind that share a smile, a kind word and unspoken support. The kind that when you see their cars warming up down the street, it brings a smile to your face and you know all is right in the world.

Sweaters For Chickens

As I stated in a previous post, I'm adopted. When I was little, I used to imagine what my birth parents were like. When I was super young, I had no doubt that they were in the circus. That was the coolest thing I could imagine.

When I met my family, I was super nervous. I worried and worried that they would find out the "real" me and run screaming for cover.

I met my dad. He hasn't screamed one time and he fills in the blanks of my biological make-up whenever I ask.

Many of my mom's side of the family live right in the same area as my dad, so it is up to them to fill me in on the how's and why's of the Vermeire's. I believe that I am VERY MUCH like them. And I really, really like that.

A few things have happened along our "getting to know each other" path and I have caught a glimpse of the true colors that flow through my blood. Every once in a while, I'll hear from my cousin, Brenda, in White Salmon. We are very close in age and EVERY SINGLE TIME she contacts me I think "If we had grown up together, we would have been great friends."

When something incredibly yucky crossed my path, another cousin, Sheila, was the first to contact me and let me know that I mattered. I still have that email and read it when my heart needs a boost.

I find myself drawn to my cousins, my uncle and my aunt. I keep abreast of happenings with my cousins on facebook and my aunt emails me regularly.

The other day I got an email from Aunt Alice. It was titled "sweaters".  I assumed it was another forwarded message that Alice likes to send. You know...warm, fuzzy, inspirational... The kind that if you don't forward in FIVE MINUTES, horribly rotten things will come your way.

Imagine my surprise when I opened the attachment and it was a photo of two chickens wearing knitted sweaters. Aunt Alice had made sweaters for her chickens.

I shook my head in wonderment. Who thinks about making sweaters for their chickens? Who in the world actually MAKES the sweaters? Aunt Alice.

That's my family. I come from a line of warm, caring people...the kind that make sweaters for chickens.

The Great Balancing Act

I now have a job. Yep, I'm a big girl now and work for a company called Studies Weekly. I love it there. Good company. Good people. They make educational magazines for kindergarten through sixth grade. Right now, I am over all of K-2 and four 4th grade states. I put out over 200 magazines a quarter.

I have been freelancing for years now and have created my routine. I work in my family room and my computer faces away from the television. Since I don't love the silence, I keep the tube on for the noise. I usually listen to Law and Order, Dateline, 20/20 or some kind of show that consists mostly of talking. I get distracted by comedies and I have a difficult time listening to music while I work because I find myself singing along and not getting a dang thing done. So, a plethora of murder mysteries it is.

Mark swears I am going to turn into a serial killer because I have listened to so many programs on homicide. He's probably right. I definitely know what NOT to do when I decide to go on my killing spree.

At work, there are 6 of us in the room feverishly developing the magazines. It can be terribly quiet. I plug in my ear buds, pull up Netflix and listen to Law and Order. It's just like home! I don't need to watch the program to know what is going on. It's perfect for me and makes the time FLY.

Today I had in my trusty ear phones and was listening to Law and Order. This episode was a whodunnit involving a child. At the end, one of the officers was in the hospital room reading "Oh the Places You'll Go" by Dr. Seuss.

I've heard snippets of this book. Most of the quotes are in a graduation speech. We've all heard it time and time again. It usually involves the Valedictorian detailing the opportunities that are just waiting for the graduating class to grasp. This time I heard something different.

This is what gave me pause:

You'll get mixed up, of course,
as you already know.
You'll get mixed up
with many strange birds as you go.
So be sure when you step,
Step with care and great tact.
And remember that
life's a Great Balancing Act.
Just never forget to be dexterous and deft.
And never mix up your right foot with your left.

I've discovered that the road to happiness isn't a straight shot for any of us. We find ourselves in dark places surrounded by strange birds and at times, all of our focus is directed toward simply keeping our feet on the path.

It can be really, really, REALLY hard, can't it?

My friend said to me the other day. "Sometimes, I wonder what all this is about."

Sometimes I wonder, too.

I think Dr. Seuss got it right when he said:

But on you will go
though the weather be foul.
On you will go
though your enemies prowl.
On you will go
though the Hakken-Kraks howl.
Onward up many
a frightening creek,
though your arms may get sore
and your sneakers may leak.
On and on you will hike
and I know you'll hike far
and face up to your problems
whatever they are.

The wolf you feed

I previously mentioned that our friend, Christian, was in a terrible car accident on Shelby's birthday. Christians mother does periodic updates on facebook to keep the masses informed of the progress of our dear friend. A few weeks ago Shelby had to do a short speech for her Public Speaking class at UVU. She went back to the posts on the Believe in CT facebook page to find the following story:

Upon today’s 5th floor departure, one of our favorite nurses, who knew of Christian’s obsession with wolves, shared the following Cherokee story about two wolves. It offers a message to consider.
An old Cherokee is teaching his grandson about life. “A fight is going on inside me,” he said to the boy.
“It is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves. One is evil—he is fear, sorrow, anger, envy, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.” He continued, “The other is good—he is hope, joy, peace, love, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith. The same fight is going on inside you—and inside every person, too.”
The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather, “Which wolf will win?”
The old Cherokee simply replied, “The one you feed.”

I heard her upstairs practicing over and over to Daulton to make sure she had it just right. Of course Shelby ROCKED the presentation. Because I could hear the story over and over, it hasn't left my mind, so I thought I would write about it.

While my brain was processing the story and my available time was trying to find an opening, my friend, Laurie, called me in tears.

Laurie had eye surgery a few weeks ago and is having trouble seeing right now. She is angry and frustrated. It's complicated (as if not being able to see isn't enough) this all comes after quite a few years of not being able to drive due to the fact that her little body has been racked with seizures. We went to Boston and she was able to see the LEADING AUTHORITY on her types of seizures and, guess what? No more seizures for my dear friend. 

I can count on one hand how many times Laurie has called me in tears directed at her frustrations with her physical health. Oh, she has cried about husbands and daughters and pets and anger mixed with confusion over the selfishness of others, but rarely does she have a pity party.

I wouldn't really call it a pity party, I guess. It's well deserved. Did I mention that she has Marfan's? For those that have no idea what that is (I was one of those) Pub Med Health states that:

Marfan syndrome is a disorder of connective tissue, the tissue that strengthens the body's structures.

In a short, not so medical synopsis, the arteries that lead to her heart have problems, her eyes have problems. She explained to to me once that all of her arteries and vessels are like rubber bands.  As they work and are used, they become stretched and can easily burst.

So Laurie is frustrated. And angry. She works very hard to be independent and the fact that she has to ask for everything she needs is driving her crazy.

I related this story to her.

It's always interesting to me to have to step out of my own crap for a minute and focus of the needs of somebody else. This was one of those moments. I stepped out of my box and took a look at what I am guilty of. What wolf have I been feeding?

I made a vow that morning that I would quit allowing evil into my life and feeding the insecurities that plague me. That wolf can wither and die. I choose the good fight. The good wolf.