The Funny Thing Is...

This past Thanksgiving I saw my mom standing, ironically, in the same way my grandma did with us when we were growing up. Her hands were clasped in front of her the same as Pheobe did when she would ask us "So what is going with you?" It was the same stance, the hand to her face and the gaze into your eyes as she would listen. Only this time the conversation was with Tony and David, her grandsons, not her children. It must be the best time in your life to watch you grandchildren grow up and revel in their accomplishments as well as their set backs.

I watched my mom move from Tony and David to Sarah with the same gaze and stance, and then on to Sarah's boyfriend John and her friend Ann. Each time I was amazed about her interest, but mostly about her gaze as she connected to every person. So my dear mom when I get to your stage of life I hope I have the same stance, the same clasp of my hands and the same wonderful gaze into my grandchildren's faces.

Diving

It started twelve years ago for Tony and will most likely continue for another four years in college. I distinctly remember being at the Olympic trials hosted by SMU in Dallas when they could not have been more than four years old. Squinting against the sun they watched diver after diver complete difficult twists and turns off the spring boards and platforms. At one point Tony turned to David, eyes wide with amazement, shouting "how cool is this?" That began his love for this sport. It seemed to go hand in hand with their gymnastics and along with the opportunity to place them in a feeder program at UT Knoxville run by Dave Parrington, Tony's love affair with diving was firmly planted. He showed no fear and continued to build more difficult dive lists over the years.

Just a week ago we attended the McCallie Invitational and for the first time it was hard for me to watch. His dives are "big" now. Front 3 1/2's off a 1 meter board makes my heart stop. I stare at his feet and the end of the board making sure his not to far back or to far forward, then I hold my breath. What emerges from the depths of the dive well is a strong, confident young man. I remember when he was so small the board did not move under his weight. Now I see the small sliver of a dive board bend in response of his perfect hurdle and then fly into the air completing the same difficult twists and turns he saw fourteen years ago. How cool is that?

Thankgiving

This should be a day of giving thanks, but to be honest I search to find the meaning of this looking over the past trudges of my life. Losing a daughter and then a son, well giving thanks is hard to muster up and plaster on a pretty face. I lost Cora Ann just before Thanksgiving and this same time 19 years later was when Joe slipped into incoherence. Tony and David were born the same day, one year after I lost Cora Ann and that makes this day bittersweet. Thanksgiving to me means nothing more than loss, of what would have been, what should have been, and what I truly wanted but was always just beyond my reach.

I try and try again to find thanks this time of year, and the end result, after all of these tragic events, is that Tony and David were our gift. And for that I will continue be thankful.

First and Last

We are going to have many firsts and lasts the next few months. It will be the first holidays and Joe's birthday without him. I have no idea what this will be like, but for certain we are bracing for the worst; and after much discussion we have decided to stay home for Thanksgiving but be as far away as possible for Joe's birthday. For Tony and David it is the last Head of the Hooch, McCallie Invitational, state dive meet, Argonaunt and spring crew; and our last Honors Scholars weekend and graduation.

The firsts and lasts seem to be colliding just when we are the most vulnerable. Mike and I try hard to celebrate every part of Tony and David's senior year, but you can see the sadness in our eyes in every picture. As we drive home from McCallie there is always the comment "Joe would be so proud of his brothers" followed by a very long silence.

What we will dread the most, however, is the first anniversary of Joe's death and no conversation is needed since we all know we will be together no matter what.

You Are 18!

Dear Tony and David,

Today you are 18 and are moving on to wonderful exciting times in your life. I remember these many years ago when you arrived, bringing laughter and love into our lives. After 20 weeks in bed to get you safely delivered you never missed a beat and have amazed us beyond words. You were devoted brothers to Joe, loving sons and have always followed your dreams. There is nothing more a mother could want, so thank you for the joy you have brought to our family.

Happy Birthday, and many more to come.

Love you lots,

Mom

Follow Your Dreams

Follow your dreams, those words have resonated in our ears for years. But we, for the most part, were a generation of following our dreams meant make as much money as you can in your lifetime. Putting aside our passions, and as the years went by wondering what was missing, and then circling back to our dreams later in years.

I see Tony and David's class on the cusp of graduating and going on to college, or other adventures, and they are a generation of following their dreams. I am amazed about how each one of them know their path. But David in his quiet way was the pinnacle of following dreams. He wanted to go overseas for college and as a young seventeen year old he took the leap of faith and applied to Oxford, Durham University and St. Andrews in the United Kingdom. His dream has been fulfilled being accepted to Durham University and is in the running for Oxford. The St. Andrews decision will be not far behind.

Oh the refreshing times of our children who not want for monetary rewards, but rather seek their desires and reach for them every day. This generation is destined to make a difference.

Charleston

Today I felt energized for the first time in a week and my heart was being pulled to Charleston where we had spread Joe's ashes this past summer. I was awake early in the morning and after chores and errands I pointed the car south on I-77 to merge on to I-26 towards Charleston. The old BMW hummed beautifully down the road and deposited me in the perfect parking spot within yards of where his ashes were spread amongst us and his friends. I carefully pulled Joe's IPod from my purse and found "On the Go 3", his favorite songs we had listened to for months soothing him to sleep. I stood at the railing, holding the rosemary from our garden, listening to his music and an incredible calmness came over me. As I dropped the rosemary into the bay it did not float out to sea instead it followed me as I walked to the car.

I wonder where his ashes are. Were they taken out to sea to exotic places or did they stay in the bay? I am not sure but my guess is that Joe was carried out of the bay on to wonderful places for that would be his wish. But for a moment today I felt he knew I was going to be there, he returned and walked me to my car.

Head of the Hooch and more...

I was in Chattanooga last weekend to watch Tony dive in the morning and David row the Head of the Hooch in the afternoon. This weekend has been a tradition for four years and one I have always looked forward to every year. Truly there is not another weekend, outside of Candlelight, that I enjoy more. Watching Tony twist and turn off the board and then witness operatic rowing in the afternoon equals the sum of a perfect weekend. A wonderful dinner with our boys completes the day.

We missed this weekend last year, but this year I soaked up every moment.

How We Say Goodbye

I was scanning the CNN website a few weeks ago and ran across an interesting article about the dead greeting the dying. The experts say at the end they recognize a mother, father, relative or friend that has passed away and are ready to greet them on the other side. It was an article written by a man who deals with this regularly and clearly he had more years of experience. We were the rookies thrown into this arena groping our way through the dark every day with the help of Hospice, a therapist and our own gut feelings. But what struck me was the recurring scenario he described, a conversation with a vision in the corner of the room or at their bedside happening within weeks or hours of passing away.

I remember before Joe passed away he became particularly agitated one night on the heels of sleeping most of the day and night for a week. He insisted on being out of bed and was sitting on the floor, covered in a blanket, with an unnerving wild look in his eyes. His head jerked from one corner of the room to the other and finally he'd pointed to the left side and growled, "I am not going with you and don't ask me again." His face softened as he pointed to the right corner softly saying, "I will go with you."

To this day we have no idea who he was talking to, nor could he tell us since he promptly returned to bed not to move or speak after that night. I do know whoever was visiting his beside that night he had made his choice and they were waiting for him.