Dear Stranger,
I don’t know your name, and you won’t ever know mine. It is likely we never even met.
You were buried today. I know this only because I encountered your funeral procession on my drive in to work.
It started while I was stopped at a red light. I turned off my stereo, rolled down my windows, and observed the peaceful morning silence in your honor.
This lasted for 23 minutes as a line of vehicles crossed through that intersection with flags attached to their antennae, all to celebrate your life. Some faces were reminiscent, some eyes were tearful.
It is evident that you were highly valued and very much loved by the people in your life. I feel it is safe to say you will be missed by many.
I hope someday I have lived such a full life that my funeral procession is 23+ minutes long.
I hope a kind stranger takes the time to observe a moment of silence on a (hopefully) beautiful day and really take in the energy around them.
I thank you, unique individual who unknowingly impacted my life today.
I hope you are resting at ease, knowing that someone is thinking of you fondly.
More graffiti later,
~A
Friday, April 27, 2018
Wednesday, January 3, 2018
2017
A year of lost and found...
This year, I successfully (or unwillingly but with a vengeance):
Lost my patience for stupidity and found an endocrinologist.
Lost a key member of the Village of Women who raised me but found a new home.
Lost some fear of the future and found a new step on my career ladder.
Lost a little money, but found a day to celebrate for no particularly important reason.
Lost some past regrets and found a new car.
Lost a few friends and found a few unexpected silver linings. .
Lost trust in the words of some people and found a heart problem.
Lost touch with my priorities but found a way to live life to the fullest.
Lost my delivery path and found my passion for food again.
Lost my daughter but found an amazing support system.
Lost part of my routine and found my hibernating passion for writing.
Lost my cool and found success in my new hobbies.
In 2017,
I lost 69 lbs and found a new way to see myself as important.
I lost faith in myself but found my true worth.
I lost my mind but found my spirit.
I lost touch with people, broke things, and fumbled along the way.
I found purpose, gained wisdom, and followed through on a New Years resolution for the first time in my life.
I am not sad that 2017 is over, and I am excited for the adventures that 2018 will undoubtedly bring!
I have a good job, a great family, wonderful friends, an amazing partner, and an overwhelming amount of love and support.
More later!
~A
Thursday, November 9, 2017
Innocent Logic
It was about 4 years ago, around this time of year, after the first real frost, when I received the first phone call that Aurora had snuck out to the horse barn in the middle of the night. This became an important part of her legacy.
Originally, when her dad decided to start her in horseback riding lessons, they used a loaner horse. When she started to show a true ability for racing, he split a horse with a stable owner and Snickers was her first riding partner. She was the best kind of childhood happy when she was on that horse.
For her 6-and-a-half-birthday (a story worthy of its own post), she begged for a horse of her own. So, less than a month later, they went to pick up a horse. There were two available: both around the same size, both male. One, a solid milk chocolate color with a dark almost-black mane and tail. The other, black and white with a pattern like paint splattered on the side of an old trash can and a mane like a zebra. It was her choice. And she started crying and shaking her head "no", unable to explain herself.
It took 20 minutes for her dad and uncle to calm her down enough for her to divulge her dilemma: she couldn't choose. Not because she wanted them both equally, or because she didn't know which would be a better horse for her; but because she couldn't handle the idea of separating them. She said she'd rather go home without a horse than leave one behind to be lonely. So, naturally, her father bought them both.
Fast forward to an almost-9-year-old Aurora, on the phone at 1 AM, in trouble with her uncle (and me) for sneaking out to the barn:
Me: Aurora, why are you in the barn?
Aurora: I didn't want Oreo to be lonely.
Me: What about Hershey? We have TWO horses because you couldn't leave one behind, sad and lonely!
Aurora: Yes, BUT Misty and Ash [the barn cats] both sleep with Hershey. I can't tell them what to do, but I can still make sure Oreo isn't lonely.
Well, if that isn't the innocent love and simple logic of a child.... How can you argue with that? How could I tell this child that she was in trouble for looking out for the horse we brought home, making the promise to always look out for him?
Please, in the easiest of ways, keep your promises. Look out for the people (and animals) you love.
More graffiti later,
~A
Originally, when her dad decided to start her in horseback riding lessons, they used a loaner horse. When she started to show a true ability for racing, he split a horse with a stable owner and Snickers was her first riding partner. She was the best kind of childhood happy when she was on that horse.
For her 6-and-a-half-birthday (a story worthy of its own post), she begged for a horse of her own. So, less than a month later, they went to pick up a horse. There were two available: both around the same size, both male. One, a solid milk chocolate color with a dark almost-black mane and tail. The other, black and white with a pattern like paint splattered on the side of an old trash can and a mane like a zebra. It was her choice. And she started crying and shaking her head "no", unable to explain herself.
It took 20 minutes for her dad and uncle to calm her down enough for her to divulge her dilemma: she couldn't choose. Not because she wanted them both equally, or because she didn't know which would be a better horse for her; but because she couldn't handle the idea of separating them. She said she'd rather go home without a horse than leave one behind to be lonely. So, naturally, her father bought them both.
Fast forward to an almost-9-year-old Aurora, on the phone at 1 AM, in trouble with her uncle (and me) for sneaking out to the barn:
Me: Aurora, why are you in the barn?
Aurora: I didn't want Oreo to be lonely.
Me: What about Hershey? We have TWO horses because you couldn't leave one behind, sad and lonely!
Aurora: Yes, BUT Misty and Ash [the barn cats] both sleep with Hershey. I can't tell them what to do, but I can still make sure Oreo isn't lonely.
Well, if that isn't the innocent love and simple logic of a child.... How can you argue with that? How could I tell this child that she was in trouble for looking out for the horse we brought home, making the promise to always look out for him?
Please, in the easiest of ways, keep your promises. Look out for the people (and animals) you love.
More graffiti later,
~A
Thursday, October 5, 2017
Aurora Grace
Yesterday, a child died. She took her last breath holding her uncle's hand. She was 12.
Eleven years ago, I held this little girl on an emergency room bed while she cried through double pneumonia, strep throat, and an ear infection on both sides. She was 21 months old.
Eight years ago, the tiniest of hands squeezed mine as we walked into a courtroom. Happy tears and tight hugs after hearing "Congratulations on your new daughter", we left as a family. She was 4.
Five years ago, she stumbled off the deck and broke her wrist. She took second place in her barrel racing competition - with a cast on. Her comment to the winner was "beat me with a broken bone and then you can talk". She was 7.
Three years ago, in July, a game of tag turned into an accident that would alter the course of our lives forever. A closed skull fracture, traumatic brain injury, 3 shattered thoracic vertebrae, kidney trauma, a broken humerus, and a fractured patella. Brain and spinal cord surgery performed by the top pediatric neurosurgeon in the country. He said "If you believe in prayer, now would be the time" as he scrubbed in to surgery. It was her half-birthday. She was 9.
Over the course of those next 16 months, there would be several close calls and ambulance trips. She was excited to be part robot, disappointed in missing her dance recital, and devastated when we told her she could no longer ride or race her horses. There were also phone calls celebrating the wiggling of toes for the first time, the first steps after she learned how to walk again, and the occasional "but Mom, it's only one horse trail" pleading. She got herself grounded, learned how to fly, and started running as soon as they said she'd never walk again.
A month ago, she fell at home. The damage was irreparable. She remained in a persistent vegetative state.
Over the weekend, her uncle and I made the decision to stop life sustaining measures so her suffering could end.
On Tuesday, we chose organ donation.
Yesterday, the machines were turned off and at 3:16pm, she took her final breath.
Over the next hours, even days and weeks, several lives will be saved with organ donation or partial organ transplants. Countless others will be helped with bone marrow, tissue donation, and stem cells.
Right now, her Godfather's son is in a transplant surgery receiving her eyes. An 8-year-old boy with a congenital defect will be able to see his little sister clearly for the first time. We will be able to visit their family and see her sparkle in his eyes.
Early this morning, a team of doctors completed a heart transplant surgery on a 22 year old woman who was born with a congenital heart disease. On Monday, they had given her a week to live.
My daughter was their miracle. Much like she has always been mine. This was her purpose in this world.
Aurora Grace brightened the world for twelve years, eight months, two weeks, and two days.
For eleven years and sixteen days of it, she was my daughter.
I am shocked, I am devastated, but I am grateful.
More graffiti later,
~ A
Eleven years ago, I held this little girl on an emergency room bed while she cried through double pneumonia, strep throat, and an ear infection on both sides. She was 21 months old.
Eight years ago, the tiniest of hands squeezed mine as we walked into a courtroom. Happy tears and tight hugs after hearing "Congratulations on your new daughter", we left as a family. She was 4.
Five years ago, she stumbled off the deck and broke her wrist. She took second place in her barrel racing competition - with a cast on. Her comment to the winner was "beat me with a broken bone and then you can talk". She was 7.
Three years ago, in July, a game of tag turned into an accident that would alter the course of our lives forever. A closed skull fracture, traumatic brain injury, 3 shattered thoracic vertebrae, kidney trauma, a broken humerus, and a fractured patella. Brain and spinal cord surgery performed by the top pediatric neurosurgeon in the country. He said "If you believe in prayer, now would be the time" as he scrubbed in to surgery. It was her half-birthday. She was 9.
Over the course of those next 16 months, there would be several close calls and ambulance trips. She was excited to be part robot, disappointed in missing her dance recital, and devastated when we told her she could no longer ride or race her horses. There were also phone calls celebrating the wiggling of toes for the first time, the first steps after she learned how to walk again, and the occasional "but Mom, it's only one horse trail" pleading. She got herself grounded, learned how to fly, and started running as soon as they said she'd never walk again.
A month ago, she fell at home. The damage was irreparable. She remained in a persistent vegetative state.
Over the weekend, her uncle and I made the decision to stop life sustaining measures so her suffering could end.
On Tuesday, we chose organ donation.
Yesterday, the machines were turned off and at 3:16pm, she took her final breath.
Over the next hours, even days and weeks, several lives will be saved with organ donation or partial organ transplants. Countless others will be helped with bone marrow, tissue donation, and stem cells.
Right now, her Godfather's son is in a transplant surgery receiving her eyes. An 8-year-old boy with a congenital defect will be able to see his little sister clearly for the first time. We will be able to visit their family and see her sparkle in his eyes.
Early this morning, a team of doctors completed a heart transplant surgery on a 22 year old woman who was born with a congenital heart disease. On Monday, they had given her a week to live.
My daughter was their miracle. Much like she has always been mine. This was her purpose in this world.
Aurora Grace brightened the world for twelve years, eight months, two weeks, and two days.
For eleven years and sixteen days of it, she was my daughter.
I am shocked, I am devastated, but I am grateful.
More graffiti later,
~ A
Monday, September 18, 2017
Content
As I finish up a couple things and get ready for bed, I take a moment to pause and soak in my surroundings:
~ Netflix plays on the TV, while the pedestal fan softly hums in the corner.
~ Soft classical music plays in a nearby apartment; the sound of it melds with the slight rain falling outside, the mix enters quietly through the screen door.
~ A text message pings in; a reassuring message from a friend.
~ Arturo hides behind the toilet, Manny sprawls in the middle of the living room, and Queen Roy stands watch over the water bowl.
~ Buster is in rabbit jail facing assault charges, while Apollo wanders the apartment aimlessly.
~ A pecan-pumpkin-cake scented candle burns on the coffee table, emitting a soft glow and releasing a sweet aroma.
~ The faint breeze coming from outside adds a freshness to the apartment; the fuzzy warmth of a hoodie enhances the near-perfect level of comfort.
~ My partner snores gently on the couch across the room; a peaceful representation of chaos experienced mere hours ago.
This is my Sunday night. It is not what I envisioned as a child. This life is not the innocent fairy tale ending I dreamed of throughout my adolescence. As a young adult, I did not imagine this as a path I would take. No part of this depicts the result of any five-year plan I've come up with in my past.
But thank God plans change. This is better than the visions I had as a kid. This is happier than the storybook ending a teenage version of myself dreamt of. This bumpy road has led me to the happiest place in my life. No part of this is typical, but every part is glorious.
I am more in love with myself than ever before in those previous life plans. I am overwhelmed in these moments where I feel completely content.
This is imperfect, messy, and completely unpredictable. Perhaps that's why this is my happily ever after.
More graffiti later,
~A
Monday, July 17, 2017
Missing Yourself
Do you ever miss yourself?
The you you were before your first heartbreak? That changes you - the way you feel safety in a promise someone makes to you.
Do you ever miss the you you were before the first time you had to alter the path of your life? That changes you - the sense of adventure you feel when you talk about the future.
What about the you you were before someone broke your trust? That changes you - the new apprehension you feel when you think about letting someone in on the secrets of your world.
Or maybe the you you were before you first failed at something? That changes you - it clouds the way you think about taking risks.
Is it the you you were before you saw some of the evil in the world? That changes you - it thickens the walls of your comfort zone.
On occasion, do you miss the you you were before someone you called a "friend" walked out of your life? That changes you - it develops an internal concern that other friends will also make their way for an exit.
Perhaps you miss the you you were before you lost someone you loved? That changes you - people we love often take along a piece of us.
Do you ever miss yourself?
Because sometimes I do.
More graffiti later,
~A
The you you were before your first heartbreak? That changes you - the way you feel safety in a promise someone makes to you.
Do you ever miss the you you were before the first time you had to alter the path of your life? That changes you - the sense of adventure you feel when you talk about the future.
What about the you you were before someone broke your trust? That changes you - the new apprehension you feel when you think about letting someone in on the secrets of your world.
Or maybe the you you were before you first failed at something? That changes you - it clouds the way you think about taking risks.
Is it the you you were before you saw some of the evil in the world? That changes you - it thickens the walls of your comfort zone.
On occasion, do you miss the you you were before someone you called a "friend" walked out of your life? That changes you - it develops an internal concern that other friends will also make their way for an exit.
Perhaps you miss the you you were before you lost someone you loved? That changes you - people we love often take along a piece of us.
Do you ever miss yourself?
Because sometimes I do.
More graffiti later,
~A
Thursday, July 13, 2017
Supporter
Okay, guys. Most of you have met my mom. If you haven't met her in person, you've probably seen her commenting on Facebook and almost everyone agrees: she's pretty great!
On top of always loving my friends as if they are our family, taking care of everyone she meets, and making sure all is well with all her loved ones, she supports me NO QUESTIONS ASKED.
Yesterday, I sent her a picture of some snacks I recently discovered and asked her to let me know if she found them anywhere. I told her "If you find these in a grocery store will you let me know? I've only seen them at holiday and it's frustrating lol" and this is the rest of the conversation.
Mind you, I AM the type of person to casually drop a "oh, by the way, I also recently fell in love" so she's not off-base by checking.... But she never misses a beat!
I am amazed that there are still people in the world that don't care about their children's feelings enough to say "Well then f*ck the rest of societal norms, I love my child NO MATTER WHAT" because there is already so much bad in the world, kids need only the best from the people at home.
My mom often says "I wish I could've done better at this" or "I tried my best at that" and points out the mistakes she made along the way but it means nothing! I've always known that if I need something, my mom will be there at a moments notice and she will always have my back. She has supported me and my decisions, without hesitation, for almost 28 years! (I say almost because I'm not quite 28 and she definitely questioned - and was unhappy with - my decision to hang out in utero for an extra 4 weeks! Sorry about that, ma...)
Be the type of person the next generation writes blog posts about!!
More graffiti later,
~A
PS: Iluwamh, Mother!!
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