Estate Sale Weekend

Home of Jim & Nicki Wilcoxson, 20+ years. It goes on the market Feb. 4. This house is perfect
for a young family or retiring couple. Or a single person, of course!

Well ... that time has arrived. Mom and Dad's estate sale will be this coming weekend: 9 a.m to 5 p.m., Thursday, Friday and Saturday, Feb. 4-6. Sunday is TBD.  The address is 7241 Bayswater. This is the Windsor-Bonham-Amarillo High school district.

Kim and I visited the almost-finished estate sale setup today, and I must say, Jan and David Migliaccio (Kim's in-law's) and their employees at Rag and Bone Antiques on 6th Street have done a phenomenal job of organizing Mom and Dad's things and making the house look homey again. The worst part of going over to their house the past year has been the cold emptiness. I couldn't stand it, so I rarely went after Socks and Blaze came to live with us. I feel guilty about that. I know I neglected their house, but I couldn't face it.

So here we are, and I have taken some pictures to share with you. I hope you will come out to find something fun and/or meaningful. (Please know that Kim and I already confiscated the best and most meaningful stuff to us. :-) ) Frankly, I'm not sure whether my mom would want people rifling through her things, judging her tastes and such. But at the same time, I know my parents would be pleased to have others enjoy what they once enjoyed. My mom was a gift-giver, after all.

Books, books and more books, and Dad's collection of golf books. And if anyone in the
coaching business, or Dad's coaching friends are interested, we have tons
of my dad's play books and notes tucked safely away. You can contact me about that. What a fantastic way to let his legacy live!!

Bedroom suite and odds and ends.

Guest bedroom suite plus odds and ends.

More furniture. Jan says roll-top desks
don't usually sell well. My mom refinished this one
and she was so proud of it.

The top photo shows all the toys Jordie and Cole played with when they came over.
Dad had lots of tools still left, and lots of hand weights and other outside/physical and lawn types of things.
We even still have lots of golf clubs left over.  

Mom loved the country look and country collectibles. 

Lots and lots of dishes and china.

There is more than what these pictures preview, so if interested, you'll just have to come see!

And, the Childress house closed yesterday, so all of a sudden, things seem to be moving quickly. It has been close to a year, and it's time. Kim and I have struggled and struggled with our loss that goes on and on. Frankly, I don't expect things to get better and/or easier. Mom and Dad are gone. Period. Hanging on to homes or things will not bring them back. We've already taken home the things we want to use and or have as remembrances.

Another chapter is ending.

The story never will.

Life happens ... however it's going to happen

AS IF losing my parents, having a sucky Christmas without them and then losing Koda were not enough ...

Our losing streak continues.

Dorsey got laid off last week. Second time in 10 years he's received this gift from the newspaper industry. Need I say we're done with newspapers?

But what a run. Newspapers put a lot of food on our table and clothes on our backs. We've had lots of fun, too. I'm quite thankful for the work we have been blessed with. Just think: It could be way worse. And at least now I have a business of my own we can concentrate on building. (Can't wait to debut my web site!)

The first time Dorsey got laid off — from the Amarillo Globe-News after almost 19 years — I was angry and bitter. I believed that act was personal, and I almost let the bitterness ruin my life. I had no idea it would take me several years to overcome the change of having a traveling man for a husband. Shook my world and my world view.

I've lived, changed and matured a lot since then, thank God. In some ways, this thing is small potatoes compared to other things we've experienced in the last 10 years.

Eh ... this layoff I see as, "it is what it is." I got over the whole "you shouldn't lose your job if you've been a loyal, excellent employee and have worked your ass off for the company" after the first time. I experienced it with Dorsey, and I saw many others over the years go through it, too. Too many to count. It's the nature of the corporate world, and it has no ounce of loyalty in it. (Individuals might, but not the corporate institution itself.) In fact, you ain't lived until you've been laid off, right?!

So, whatever. (OK, not really. I know this can be financially and emotionally devastating for so many; I just refuse to go there this time.)

Still ... it bothers me when I know how talented Dorsey is, and I know and see how hard he works. There's still that thought of, "But, but ... he's so good!" I'm like, "What were they thinking?"

I just hurt for him.

BUT ... life happens. And I know that when we fall, we get up. And Dorsey is way talented and has a phenomenal resume ... maybe I should post it? Heck, if I could hire him, I would.

I know we'll be fine, though, because my faith in God tells me so, and my experience with God is that every single time something terrible has happened, blessings have come out of it anyway. This time will be no different.

I'm tired, though. Physically and emotionally. I still have anxiety and fears. I don't like change. I still cry a lot. I can't sleep much. My body still hurts. (Those injections in my spine a few weeks ago didn't help.) Yeah, it's true. I'm pretty darn down these days ... since the day Koda died, it's like everything with my parents is brand new, too.

What I see is the upheaval of a move. I can't see that Amarillo will work out for us. I dread packing up 15 years worth of stuff and our (nine) animals and finding someone to buy our house and finding a new house and getting used to a new city and being farther away from Jordie (but maybe closer to Kim). Remember, I'm tired.

But if we move, I realize completely that someday, I will look back and be thankful it ever happened in the first place. Because that's life. That's how it happens.

It happens the way it's supposed to. With pain comes joy. With joy comes pain. With pain comes joy ...

On and on.

But, damn ... I'm really, really tired.

December's hurricane

I began my journey of my parents with you about this time last year. I think I can safely say you already know how my 2015 went, so I won't replay it for you.

Peaceful night in April.

Yet, in spite of it all, my faith in God grew, and I experienced one of the most blessed times of my life. Sure, I had a lot of difficulties in there, but my faith sustained me.

Then December happened. When people have talked about grief with me, they've often referred to those "waves" that crash over you ... some expected, and some not.

The wave that hit me in December — when Koda died — came quite unexpectedly. I had no idea it would be so big. I had no idea I would nearly drown.

With December came the ugliest wave of anger and sadness I have experienced so far on this journey. It was as if, in the cycle of grief, I was just getting to the anger part. That wave knocked me down so hard, I barely came up for air. I think I spent most of December under water, lungs about to explode.

I love these little furry blessings.

Don't misunderstand me. I didn't think I would just float unaffected through this first Christmas without my parents. I made plans — we made plans — to ease the journey a bit. I have no idea which parts of the plans or the things we did or didn't do made it possible for me to come up for air every so often, but I did. In every day ... almost ... I had some good moments. And while family was here visiting, I had several good talks and times with people.  I even made sure to express gratitude and thankfulness to God for the family and pets I do have. Every day.  I also stuck with my morning Bible study, meditation and prayer routine.

But after Koda died, the tears flowed relentlessly. Everything made me cry. It was as if my parents had just died and I was starting over. I was irritable, depressed, in a lot of physical pain, and just plain weepy. I felt like I had no control over what was happening to me, no matter how hard I prayed or tried to practice serenity and all that good stuff I've been taught.

Just didn't happen. ... Dammit.

When we returned from vacation, I begrudgingly put up our decorations. Dorsey did the tree since nearly every ornament was a gift from my mom, and I wasn't ready to go there. I did feel glad and more in the mood for Christmas once the house "looked" like Christmas, but I never much got into the music.

Me ... on Melt Down Morning.

I baked, which I enjoyed until I messed up one of my favorite cakes. Then I had a major MELT DOWN!! That was an "interesting" morning.

I wrapped gifts with more care than I have in the past; I tried so hard to be good at it because my mom took great pride in how her gifts looked. The presentation of her gifts to us was part of the gift she gave. But really, I just suck at it.

We decided to follow our usual Christmas Eve tradition of Mexican pile on dinner and family gifts. We've always done that at Mom and Dad's, but our house hosted this year. I felt detached instead of fully present. I suppose I was in survival mode, even though I had moments of laughing and fun.

We tried to start a well-meaning tradition in honor of my *silly dad (see story below). I felt nothing, except maybe sadness. It didn't at all turn out the way I envisioned. (Expectations are the devil.)

I tried to imagine Mom and Dad looking down at us from Heaven's portal, cheering us on. Eh ... Just made me cry.

Christmas day, I stayed in my pjs. Physically, I hurt, and Jordie and Dorsey went on to see "Star Wars" without me. (I had spent the last two days watching the previous ones to get psyched up, but I never made it to the new one.)

I just think I wasn't ready for all that festivity. I think if it had been left to me, I could have gone through Christmas without the usual hoopla. I would have just observed the reason we even have Christmas (Thank you, Jesus.) and left it at that.

Yesterday, I happily packed up Christmas decorations and got the house back in order.

I officially washed up on the sand like a beached whale (yes, really). I didn't drown after all, but I'm totally water-logged and still gasping for air.

Maybe I was a Grinch and a Scrooge this year. I didn't want to be. I tried. I really did. I tried for my family to be "good," but I just wasn't.

Maybe next year.

******************************************************

Origin of the "Dad" gift

He just looks ornery.

Several years ago, when the boys were still small and too young to do any shopping for anyone, we were at my parents on our usual fun, silly, festive Christmas Eve, opening gifts after stuffing ourselves with Mexican food and desserts.

Our family tradition is to pass out the gifts and then watch each person open one gift at a time. We go around the room until all the presents have been opened. It fell to my dad to open the last gift of the night. It was a big box, and my mom had a most puzzled look on her face.

"Willy, where did that come from?" she asked. (Willy is a childhood nickname.)

"Oh, it's just a little something the boys gave me," Dad said.

We all looked at each other like, "What's he talking about? The 'boys' can't get anyone anything."

He opened the gift and pulled out a nice pair of Ostrich cowboy boots he had bought for himself. And then he just fell over laughing and laughing hysterically at himself. He (and we) thought that was the most hilarious thing to ever happen ... and heck! Why didn't we think of that?

We will never forget ...