be-musings

Down for a couple of weeks


I won't be posting now for a couple of weeks. Unless I'm bored that is. I have been looking for the camera download wire to take on the trip to post pictures, but in the move it is missing. So, no live Jamaica pictures. But after, I'll update the Flickr account. Bye for now

It's happening


On Tuesday things didn't go very smoothly. In the morning my car broke down at an intersection 2 blocks from work. I popped the hood, hailed down some people for their cell phone, called Scott for help, and sat in the stalled car. I had just passed another woman doing the same thing, and wondered what she would possibly find to do. She looked so bored. I came up with someone...I put on my lipstick. Ah, that was better. So, I sat and waited for a bit until Mel Gibson pulled up in a cool black car. He took a moment to brush his luxurious hair before rescuing me, but I didn't mind. I stared at his sultry 5'8" frame. Oh - did I get sidetracked there? Bear with me. It's my story and I can imagine whatever I want.
So, the car got boosted and off we headed, for another block and another red light. Car stalled. Pushed onto a side street. Tow truck called. I walked the block to work while Scott waited for an hour. If you know him, you realize how painful that would have been for him.
Later that day we found out that the pants Scott ordered were never ordered, got a couple of RSVP cancellations from people that we were hoping could make it, and had a $475.00 car bill. I had a mini stress session. But my lipstick still looked good. Man those long lasting ones are good products!
Despite the bumps of Tuesday, these are good days. Things not going according to plan mean that wedding week is here. There will be progress and turmoil. Tomorrow will bring more of that, but also will bring more precious family and friends.
What I look forward to the most for Saturday is being with people we love and hanging out. Yes, there is the pretty dress and flowers, but the thing that makes me smile the most is spending time with those who come. Sharing joy and building memories for the future.
My lipstick? The same I wore Tuesday. It will need to last. The day will be long and warm, with me in my long dress and Scott in his shirt, vest and...boxers. No pants. It's cooler that way.

Sheer Joy

Lorne


As I laid in bed tonight my thoughts roamed about my family. With an upcoming marriage and embarking on a new adventure, I became sentimental and remiscent. I thought of people I love whom I thought would not be here today, and the future of family. My thoughts turned to Lorne. When I had just turned 13 he died in a car accident. He was 19. Red hair, curlier than mine, teeth very similar before I had braces. Small man, very lean. Fine features, as is prominent in my family. My older brother.
I have glimpses of memories with him from the years before his death. Mostly of brotherly jokes and taunting. Some of admiration of his strength. Sitting on the couch watching him play the Rebound game he bought us for Christmas. That is my favorite story of him. He couldn't wait for us to open it. He was the first one to play it. I could never master the game quite as well as he could. I recall seeing a photograph of Lorne, sitting on the ground, playing the game. It's my favorite photograph.
I have random memories of Lorne. Perhaps I have just as many memories of his dying as I do of his life. Or maybe they are just so vivid because they are the last of him.
I remember the late night that the police summoned my parents to the hospital. My mom coming into the room to say they were going. She touched me gently as I lay in bed, as she has done many times before and since. I remember my Aunty Irene coming in the house during the daytime to get mom a blanket to reduce the physical fatigue and shock. I remember my parents being gone for many hours. I don't know what I did while they were away.
I remember the phone call from the hospital. They didn't know I was only 13. "He has taken a turn for the worse and we're trying to find the parents." I knew what was worse than a coma. He was dead. I realized it before the others, and waited at home to be told what I already knew.
The funeral is vivid. Sitting behind the privacy curtain, in the room reserved for family. Looking through glass at the service. My father holding my hand for a moment as I briefly cried aloud. Reaching out for my father's hand when he began to cry, but realizing that I couldn't comfort him. His grief was too deep. A father and mother should not have to bury their child. Yet many do.
As my cousins gathered and celebrated Lorne's life with some "cheer", I stopped in. That was my first taste of alcohol. A spiked rum and Coke that I didn't expect. It tasted weird so after a couple of sips I gave it to a cousin and went for a walk to clear my new headache. Sure can't hold my liquor. I spent much time in my room a church couple I babysat for, laughing as they told jokes and played funny songs for me. Thank you Anne and Dwight for giving me what I needed that day.
I've thought of Lorne many times over the years. At my first wedding at the age of 18, I wished he was there even if I had to push him up the aisle in a wheelchair. I guess it's times like these that make us miss family and what could have been.
Sometimes I am surprised by the sudden reminder of him. I spoke with my dad about that, as his wife is grieving the new loss of her son. I said "Dad, you know what it's like to lose a son. It hurts." We don't talk about these things, but I'm glad we did. He told me that he can be going about something and Lorne comes to his mind, pressing in suddenly. We share that experience.
It isn't always about sorrow. He did lots of funny and stupid things. Most of the things I was too young to witness, so they are family stories. Like climbing over a fence as a little boy, and getting his helmet caught on a nail, leaving him dangling by the chinstrap until found. He used to put his motorcycle helmet on his wet har, then lay on the couch to put more pressure on it. Curly wasn't cool. He did daring things like street racing, or flipping junk cars over on gate night.
Mom emailed me to say that one of her neighbours has a Beaumont. My brother used to. She doesn't know how she recognized the model. I do. The same way I can always recognize one. Part of the family. Love. Longing. Happy memories. Coming home from school and walking by the dark green low car with the silver "Beaumont" written across the back. I used to read the word every time.
I know this is a long post and it's late. I had to get out of bed to write. Maybe it's a long overdue tribute. The sorrow and flow of tears surprised me tonight. The longing was deep, and I still cry as I write. Not for what was, but for what might have been. For family...my red-headed brother.
As much as I want to know him still, I believe God knew the right time to take him, for His reasons. I don't know what life he would have had, or what challenges would have come his way. Had he not been in the accident would he still be alive today? I don't know. It could easily have been me gone instead. It isn't my choice to make.
These things I don't like to write about, because it will make my family sad. This is a time in my life for celebration, not sorrow.
Here's to Lorne. One day we'll be together again...big brother.

In June my employer held a surprise shower for me. I've been waiting anxiously for the photos, and just got them. I'm not very smart with ways to make money, because I really should use some of them for blackmail purposes.
There is a primary difference between male and female "showers" (not stags). Male get togethers involve boasting, macho imbibing, and beef. Women's showers involve giggling, "classy" imbibing (wine, not beer) and light food. Of course I've stated this like I'm an authoritarian on the subject though I've only been to a tiny amount of showers, most of them inside a church. No imbibing there...unless it's communion.
The female shower has a very important element. Embarrassing games. We only played one. It sounded tame. The goal was to have 4 teams design and model what I should wear to the wedding. The medium: toilet paper. What I envisioned I would do and what the teams did were entirely different. I think Scott would like their version better. Thank goodness they wore clothes underneath the outfits. Have a look:

The winner: my boss Margaret, in the spiral 'top'.

Matthew got the chicken pox his last week of school, and was so upset that he missed 4 days (not). I think he was trying to figure a way to get out of school early. Perhaps the chicken pox were psychologically induced!
I've included a photo of him so you know he wasn't faking it.

I'm switching to a new template, and haven't got it all worked out yet. The comment field is only for feedback to the blogskin designer, so you probably won't want to use that. It was time to get rid of the orange.

I've been sloppy about posting more regularly because life is...busy. You can probably attest to that in your life too. I haven't had tons of time for formulation of theories, theologies, psycho-analysis. I've been living a multi-faceted life, as most of you also have. There has been enough time to think about my temperament through these changes and occurences. Here is one thing I have thought about.

Matthew has usually been a fabulous sleeper. At 8 months when brought home, he slept through the night. There were a few crying episodes around 10:00, which proved to be gas. He has always slept long and hard. But when he turned 4, going to bed wasn't so easy.
The most grief would usually happen right before bed. That would lead to me sitting on the edge of the bed talking with Matthew and trying to teach him how to avoid trouble the next time. At first I think Matthew stumbled into the opportunity to stay awake later and have my attention purely by behavioural "accident". I don't think he attributed the behaviour with being able to stay up later and talk, but sometimes it became too regular. It became evident that it was becoming too "coincidental". By then it migrated to him wanting to talk about something from his day or something emotional or ask me a question that would feed into the teaching aspect of my charcter. He had me hooked. It took me a while to figure it out but thank goodness I did.
When Matthew would misbehave before bed because of attention seeking or fatigue it was easy for me to take that last interaction and colour the whole day with it. 12 hours of great times and fun, 30 minutes of frustration, means a bad day.
It became a good tool to teach me how to look at other things in my life, and not colour them with the most recent emotional experience. I have learned to weigh my experiences and relationships keeping the whole picture forefront. This has also taught me to watch what I say. The wrong word said in such a time of emotional involvement can create more frustration and in some cases memory scars.
I know in here there is a lesson about friendships. They all go through seasons, and sometimes they season us (haha) more than we want them to. I've been in some relationships where on certain days I wonder why I'm there. Maybe the experience wasn't so great that day. I have stuck it out, and reap the benefits of still being there with them. Sometimes more than I could have imagined. As much as it might have been the natural tendency, the "last 30 minutes" didn't win over the previous 12 hours. It wasn't always easy, and sometimes now it might not be. But God has used some of this to bless and teach me.

And that's my rambling. As deep as the thoughts get right now. Although, there is another one forming....much shorter than this one.