Still Teary

Dear Dad,

It has been five and a half months since you left this mortal place and transcended to Heaven.  There's not a day that goes by where I don't shed at least a couple of tears from the pain of missing you.  I know you wouldn't want that and would want us all to carry on with only happy memories firing through our thoughts.  There are so many wonderful, wonderful memories I have of you. 

I just wanted you to know how proud I am of your courageous battle with heart disease and the agony your body endured until your final breaths.  We watched you battle a few open heart surgeries, many procedures and dozens of IV drips, pokes and prods - all within a seven week time span.  And you handled them all like the true champion you are.  Those last few weeks of being with you in the hospital still flood my mind, but I know in time those memories will be erased by only the happiest of ones. 

Right now we are creeping slowly upon the holiday season and it was always your favorite time of year.  This year is going to be tough and I can't really admit I am looking forward to them without you.  In 37 years, I never spent a Christmas away from you.  This year in my 38th year I will yearn for your hugs, your smile watching you open your presents and the laughter that ensured when you used to sing Thistle Hair the Christmas Bear.

You'll also be missing the birth of your second granddaughter come early December.  But I know you'll be with her as she enters this world and will be with her mom as she is delivered keeping them both safe and sound.

I just miss you so Dad.  So much.  And, I love you more.

I like to remind myself that while I still drip warm tears missing you, it is only because I loved you so much and grief really is a continuation of the love we hold for you.

The Gift of Grieving

I never thought I would say that grieving could be a gift, and I certainly never would have imagined it could be a possibility two months ago.

I lost my father two months ago.

I've been hesitant to even write about it on this blog because writing about it means he's never going to be on the receiving end of a Friday night phone call.  It means I'll never get to see him open a Father's Day card.  It means I'll never get to hear him talk about his recent golf game.  Or listen to his jokes.  Or watch him play with his granddaughter.  It means I'll never get to vacation with him again.  Or taste one of his famous margaritas.  Or ask him about career advice.  It means I'll never see him hug my mom again or send me on my way with a kiss on the cheek and the words, "drive safe" fall off his lips as they religiously did all those times I pulled out of his driveway.


The endless hours spent visiting him in the hospital and watching him fight nothing but uphill battles was something I try and erase out of my memory.  I want to remember him as a healthy man with the utmost vigor and optimism about life.  He never once complained to me about being scared, worried, anxious or sick.  He only complained about being cooped up there and wishing he was at home with my mom and their beagle.

I am learning that grieving is an on-going process and the reason we grieve is because we love so hard.  The harder the grief the deeper the love. 

So what better gift than grief because it means you experienced a bountiful love for someone?

And while my pain is deep and my life feels a bit emptier without him here on this planet, I carry the knowledge that he is omnipresent now in my heart and always near me.

 I love you Pops.  Always.

Wading through pudding

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I’ve been dormant and uninterested in blogging over the last nine months.  The last three of those months have left me feeling as though I am wading through pudding and grasping for air.  

I'm not even sure why I chose to log in today and throw a post together.

I ended my relationship with the person I thought was the absolute love of my life.  Our time together was constantly thwarted.  We couldn't make things work as much as we both wanted to and our relationship was supposed to be locally-based ended up being more long-distance as time grew on.   I gave it everything I had and then some.  My pail of patience tipped over and ran away.   The dreams I had for the two of us were left at the doorstep and it left me heart broken and empty as if the air was sucked out of my sails.

Funny how life never ends up the way you imagined it.  I’m not giving up on those dreams quite yet. 

Right now I’m just trying to balance the delicate situation of a parent who is constantly hospitalized and the fear of feeling so alone.

Happiness is a choice and I am desperately trying to replenish my tank.  Each day I try and find some time to stop and think about what makes me happy.  I’ve dropped to my knees lately asking God to fill my heart and soul with contentment. 

So far, my prayers are working.  Quietly, but they are working.  If ever there was a time in my life to trust in Him, the time is now.   The last week has shown me there is more to my life than just me.  There is a merciful God working among us and filling our souls.

I don’t know what direction my life will take, but I am working to keep a smile on my face as I embrace it.

Cuteness

I am headed off soon to Toronto to shoot a series of TV commercials.  When people ask me what I do for a living and I tell them I produce TV spots I get the same response, "Do you shoot with babies and puppies?"

The answer is yes. I've done both.  Not easy. 

I'm not having to wrangle toddlers and puppies for this next TV package but I will leave you with this week's batch of over-the-top adorableness.

Lucky for me, I have both of these girls in my life.

I've been put threw a wood chipper and came out the other side

After an 8-day retreat to one of my now favorite places on Earth, I am thrown into the bowels of reality called my career.  I'm not happy about it.  My mind wants nothing to do with Excel spreadsheets and computer monitors.  I have vivid memories of waking up before 7:30 every morning to run along the shore watching the sun dance on the water and the flowering trees greet me.

Gone are the days of sitting ocean side listening to the water crash onto the sand, watching the surfers defeat the odds of incredible waves and listening to the native birds chirp.  Also gone are the frozen drinks and the smell of the ocean-side grille.  

After staying in Poipu Beach in Kauai, I've got clients to tend to.  Emails to answer.  Billing to submit and production work calling my name.  I've also got bills to pay and some vacation money that needs to be replenished in my bank account.  

Until we meet again, Kauai.  Your memories will live in my heart.  Always.

And so will the native chickens and roosters that steal my nachos and drink the last of my strawberry/mango margarita.  You assholes, you.

Microwave down - call 911

My microwave crapped out.  Let’s hash this phenomonen out together, shall we?

I live alone.

I don’t heat up family-size Stouffers lasagna trays in my microwave for 20-minutes at a time.  (Seriously people, gross....sodium, fake meat, shall I go on?).

I don’t exclusively use it to “cook”.  Thanks to the Williams Sonoma catalog, I do get spontaneous bursts of inspiration to actually cook with expensive utensils and dishes.  My concoctions may taste like disgusting messes of a pile of ingredients, but I do attempt to utilize the oven and stove.

I didn’t throw a hot dog in there and zap it into a piece of un-edible leather.  Don't get me started on hotdogs...another tragic invention of disgusting meat by-product. 

The microwave is less than 5 years old.

I’ve hit the wall of “Holy heck, home ownership is often tragic.  Why don’t people warn new homeowners of such a thing?!”

I feel like I’m living in a tent in the midst of an African prairie with no access to electricity.  Perhaps my analogy is a wee bit exaggerated, but my microwave CRAPPED OUT folks, and in today’s world, that’s like ordering a burger and not the fries.  It just doesn’t happen.

Who do you call to rectify such a problem?  Is there such a person as Mr. Microwave Repair Guy?

I mean, I can stand a cold shower if my hot water tank were to fail.  But what’s a girl to do when her coffee needs to be zapped?  Or how do you melt your 3PM snack of cheese on Triscuits without a microwave?

I’m American Bridget and having a microwave down is like asking the Pope to pass on a morning benediction.  It’s just sort of tragic.