I'll Always Remember You Young

This song has been playing on the radio a lot lately. It catches my ear, but I seldom hear all of the words simply because I'm lost in my own thoughts most days. However, the other day was a rough one. 

Christmas is always tough time, but this was the first one without my partner in crime, my rock, my best friend...my beautiful boy, Diesel. My heart has been a bit heavier this year. I've been missing my grandparents, my dad, Diesel, my cousin (and now his partner) and my mind has traveled across the ethereal plane, wondering if they are all okay.

The first time I remember asking my grandma how old she was, she answered, "I'm 53." She wasn't much older then than I am now. I cannot imagine Grandma coloring her hair wild colors and wearing the clothes I wear. But in my mind, she is forever 53. Playing ball with us kids, making date candy into dog turd shapes to give to her baby brother, and playing Chinese checkers on rainy Saturdays.

My grandpa is frozen in time as a younger man. Reminding me to hold my silverware like a lady, to not wear my cap so far down on my ears cuz "ladies don't have cauliflower ears", and buying his only granddaughter plastic collectible ponies for Christmas.

My parents will be forever in their thirties. Back when they were happy. Back before Dad's PTSD took over his life. Back when we were still a family.

My cousin will always be 18 (and I can hear him laughing). I remember his smile...god, how I loved him. Driving to town with him to pick up his paycheck, Billy Idol blasting on the radio, no cares in the world. 

I know my cousin, Beth, will laugh, but to me, she'll always be 16. Rimming my waterline with black eyeliner while Paul Stanley and Gene Simmons rocked out on the television in her parents' living room. She is the closest thing to a big sister I've ever had.

And my darling Diesel will forever be the puppy who loved to be carried to bed, sung "Baby Mine", and was the best friend a girl could ask for.

 

My friends are forever frozen in time at 18. When our futures were bright, life was simple, and the world was ours for the taking.

The other day, someone asked me what I was like when I was younger. I paused a moment or two and let my mind travel back in time. I wasn't much different than I am now. Ballsy. Full of sass. Full of spirit. I was the girl who hung out with the guys with jacked-up trucks on Main Street on Friday night, her best friend by her side. Driving backroads with the windows down and the music up loud. Seeing just how much trouble we could find. My nose wasn't always in a book, but pretty damn often. I dreamed of getting out of the one horse town and being someone special. I had big dreams and lofty aspirations. 

I've often wondered how people remember me. If they remember me at all. I'm sure I'm the bad guy to some, wounded to others, beautiful with an ugly heart/ugly with a beautiful heart, unlovable, untouchable, and I'm sure the list goes on. I just hope someone somewhere remembers me fondly as someone who gave her all. And always remembers me young!

Christmas 1977

Yesterday's post wasn't really a memory, but yet, in some ways, it was. I know what is like to spend a holiday alone. I've spent enough holidays either working or curled up on the couch with my dog to realize it sucks to be alone for the holidays.

Today, however, is a different day. This memory comes from the year 1977. (I'm giving away my age with this one.) I was new big sister and, while I wasn't overly fond of the brat...ahem, baby, he was my little brother.

This was the Christmas that I got a bean bag chair. It was black, shiny, and squishy. My mom had bubbleloaf (monkey bread to the rest of you) baking in the oven. I was up at the buttcrack of dawn to inspect the gifts Santa had brought. I remember sitting on the floor while Dad sat on the couch with a cup of coffee. Mom had gone in to change the beast...I mean, baby. Mom put him on the floor to crawl out to the family room/kitchen/dining room and he promptly crawled into my new bean bag chair, made himself comfortable, and promptly fell back to sleep.

I will admit that I loved that little booger...for the most part. He was chubby and cute...usually But there is actually a picture of that baby sound asleep on my Christmas  present...it is probably my favorite of him to this day.


I do remember singing this song that holiday:

And this song was one I had to sing for the Christmas program at church:

Happy Father's Day

I wanted to take a moment to wish all of the fathers out there a Happy Father's Day. 
Today is the 2nd Father's Day I've had without my dad and I will admit to feeling a little sad today. But I got to thinking about my dad and all the wonderful things I got from him. So, instead of crying and being sad, I'm going tell you why he was such an amazing dad.

First of all, he was a hero. Not just a hero like every little girl thinks of her daddy, but mine was an honest to goodness hero. He served in Vietnam, came home and became a firefighter, lived with PTSD for 20 years, and loved me unconditionally.

He gave me a love of music. Not just the twangy country music he loved, but the oldies as well. I can remember singing along with him in the car wherever we went. It's a habit I just can't shake. I still sing along with the songs on the radio when I'm driving.

He gave me my heart. He showed by example what it meant to be a good human being. He never judged a person by the clothes they wore, or their handicaps. He was kind to everyone and that matters.

He gave me my weird sense of humor. Dad was silly, goofy, and funny. It didn't matter where or with whom. He was constantly trying to crack people up and he was never ashamed of making a fool of himself. Whether it was teasing me mercilessly until I laughed or dressing up in my Christmas clothes and chilling on the couch (yes, I have pictures :)), he brought joy.

He gave me a sense of self. He allowed me to claim my oddness, my faith, and my beliefs with no judgment. He let his little girl find out who she was through trial and error. He never interfered. He simply let me be.

He showed me how to push through the pain. With his PTSD, he was constantly in pain (mentally), but he still laughed. 

He believed I deserved to dance amongst the stars. If he could have brought the heavens down for me, I think he would have.

Sometimes, we are in the presence of angels and don't even realize it. Trust me when I say I knew all along. 
So, I ask  you to hug your dad a little tighter today and hold on a little longer than you need to. He gave you some of the wonderful components that make you you. 

Happy Father's Day!!

Happy Memorial Day!

As most of you know, I am the daughter of a Vietnam veteran. The image above holds a special place in my photo album simply because of that. I've never been to the wall, but I intend to go at some point.
When I was growing up, Memorial Day was always about the parade in our small town, visiting my relatives' graves, and cooking out at home. My dad was never big on celebrating the true reason for Memorial Day...and I now know why. 
However, we are coming up on the anniversary of my loss and I sit here looking at this picture thinking, "But for the grace of the gods..." 
See, if my dad's name would have been on that wall, I wouldn't have been born. He often would talk about his time in Vietnam and how he wished he had stayed, fought, and died for his country, then the PTSD wouldn't have destroyed his life the way that it did. It used to make me cry because if he had done those things, I wouldn't be here and I sure as hell wouldn't be the woman I am today for walking on his journey with him.
He was an amazing man and he was my hero (though I can hear him telling me, "Girl, I ain't nobody's hero"). He sacrificed his mind, body, and soul for this country. He may have come home physically whole, but mentally, he would never be the man he was if he hadn't seen and done the things he did. 

So, today please remember that All Gave Some and Some Gave All. We are free because of the men and women who have put their lives on the line. We are able to BBQ and spend time with our families because these people have given up time with theirs.