The Mornings

This morning I'm sipping on coffee, reading, and watching some TV in a hotel bed. Last night, I watched two beautiful friends join their lives in marriage. We danced, we ate, we smiled, and we sent them off in the soft glow of sparklers.

As I have a slow morning in this hotel (with my disciplined husband grabbing a workout) I can't help but think about what this morning means to them. They're married! They are family. I very vividly remember the morning after our wedding. I was sweet and quiet, and a soft drizzle was falling. We were both exhausted, but excited to embark on our honeymoon. But mostly I remember how completely elated I was to finally have this amazing man as my husband.

We've not been married a year yet, so these memories are still relatively fresh. I hope I never lose them. I hope I always remember the joy I felt on my first day as a wife!

A Send Off...

Internet, if you will humor me, I'd like to share this post. I have it written down in my journal, but 1) I'd like to have an internet copy; and 2) It's cathartic to share stuff like this when I'm grieving.

On March 21st, my dad called me to tell me that my grandpa had a stroke. The doctors had to perform brain surgery, but his body was just not strong enough to recover. After a hard couple of weeks, my mom and aunt decided to remove him from life support. He passed away early in the morning on April 3rd. He had been healthy and independent before this. In fact, when he realized he was having a stroke, he called his part time job to let them know that he wouldn't be making it in before calling an ambulance.

He was an amazing man with an outstanding legacy. I felt very led to speak at his funeral. This is not my most eloquent writing, produced after hours of thinking and a few minutes of scribbling in a hotel room. But it is raw, and exactly what I said.

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April 5th, 2014

When I was a little girl, there was no day more exciting than when we got to see mamaw and papaw. I normally didn't sleep the night before, and often made myself sick with anticipation. Mamaw was full of spirit and silliness and games. But Papaw, he was full of lessons. His first lesson: how to perfectly place the bird food and peanuts to attract birds and squirrels to the deck. He would tell me each name, from Blue Jays to Cardinals, and create stories for every squirrel. His next lesson: how to pull a baby tooth. He could tell when each of my teeth was ready to come out, and the tooth fairy always gave a little extra when he was in town. As I grow older, I decided I wanted to be a cook. Grandpa and I would talk often about Sarah Molten and Rachel Ray, and he taught me how to grow and prepare all of my own ingredients. I have abandoned most of my culinary aspirations, but I know how to perfectly grill corn, chop basil, and choose ripe tomatoes. Most know my grandpa had a temper, and though I hated to be on the receiving end of his criticism, I never felt more loved and protected than when he came to my defense. When I felt insecure about my freckles and pale skin, he'd sing me silly songs and remind me that I look so much like my mother and grandmother, two women he found exceedingly beautiful. When I went to college, he was proud of my education, but reminded me that knowing about the world was not the same as contributing to it. But it wasn't until I met my husband that I understood the lesson he had been teaching me my whole life. As I stood up and made my wedding vows, I realized I had seen the most perfect example of "for better or worse, in sickness and in health." My grandmother was a fierce force, and my grandpa loved every piece of her, even when she drove him crazy. When she got sick and didn't know who we were, he never abandoned her. Instead, he filled the house with pictures, called us to talk to her on every good day, and told her he loved her each night. I will be a very lucky woman if my husband looks at me the way my grandpa looked at my grandma until her last day. The last time I saw my grandpa was my wedding day. I didn't know it was the last time, but I will always treasure eating breakfast next to him, asking him if he thought grandma would like my dress, and watching him dance with my mom. When mom told me grandpa wasn't going to wake up, I thought his lessons were done; his time had passed. But Thursday, as we drove from Memphis, I learned the last lesson: It's never too late. You see, my grandpa did not attend church in his adult life. It wasn't until a few months ago, when an attractive woman invited him along, that he ventured in. On Thursday, we learned from the pastor of his church that he had accepted his salvation. Now, along with all the lessons he taught me, I get to live with the joy and hope that I will get to rejoice alongside my grandfather for all eternity. And really, no grief I feel now will ever penetrate that amazing promise. So thank you, papaw, for all the lessons, and I can't wait to see you again in heaven.
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Thank you so much for all the love and prayers. My family is still recovering from the sudden loss, but we can rest in the knowledge that he did not spend years, or even months, suffering and that we will all see him again.

Write On

Today I sat in a room for two and half hours monitoring my homeroom as they were administered their writing assessment. All of my students are taking this test this week, and they are, quite honestly, freaking out. My students have written a ton this year, but I honestly haven't spent as much time as I should helping them with the writing process (until recently). Honestly, I just want them to write. Next year, I plan to spend at least one day a week writing. Sometimes, it will be expository writing (like today's assessment) and they will receive really targeted feedback. But other times, they will write letters and poems and stories and anything that comes to mind. I am learning to love the written word.

I am someone who always has something to say. For those of you nodding your heads, don't worry, I annoy myself too. I used to have problems with depression and anxiety, so I have learned how to express what I am feeling verbally. But I know that not everyone is like this. My husband has really shown me the beauty of quiet (sometimes). Other times, I'm not really sure how to react. I know that he has thoughts and feelings, but he's just not in the mood to share them. Last night was one of those nights. We ended up joking about it right before bed, and I told him that I know he loves me even when he doesn't say it. I told him I even had evidence, then pulled this out of my nightstand:

It's the card that he wrote me the day of our wedding. I can guarantee that this will only ever be for my eyes. There is something powerful in looking back on his thoughts about me and our relationship right before I became his wife. It reminds me of how we felt that day, how excited we were to be married, and how much we have grown together since then. That is the power of the written word, my friends. So, even though I am going to spend the next three hours of my life grading samples of my students' writing, it's all worth it to encourage them to use the written word.

Have you written anything lately? You may say "I love you," everyday to your spouse or SigO, but have you written them a love letter? Have you dropped a note to your mom who took care of your sniffly nose even though you're a high-functioning college student? What about some words of encouragement to a co-worker? Try writing something to someone today. You never know, it might be a letter that person keeps forever!