When crying is inconvenient ...

Hold me, Mama. I'll make you feel better. — Socks

Sometimes when I wait too long to post, those things that mattered to me at the time don't seem important anymore ... either because it takes too much energy to remember it all like it was and how it felt, or because I can't even remember anymore.

So first things first: I'm sitting right in the middle of the anniversary of my parents' deaths. Mom died May 13 last year, and Dad died May 23.

I feel as though I've been on a roller coaster of inexplicable emotions. I'm happy one minute ... on top of the world with all the possibilities, and then I'm bawling the next. I'll smile at happy memories, and then I'll cry when I think of the last several months of my parents' lives. I still feel angry when I picture my parents doing the normal things they did, and then realize they aren't here anymore. I continue to think, "This isn't the way it was supposed to be." Every day holds something in it that belongs to my parents. Every day.

Mostly, though, I find myself just being irritable ... unless I'm being distracted with activities, such as cleaning, redecorating, watching Jordie's baseball games, traveling, listening to audiobooks on the road, watching HGTV, or as it has been a lot lately, hanging out with my sister.

The anniversary week of my mom's death, I spent several days at Kim's. We ran errands, got our nails and toes done, went to eat several times, and hung out with Kim's other "sister" Melissa. Then I spent last week, up until yesterday, with Kim in Hutchinson, Kan., to watch Jordie and his team play baseball. We watched games, wandered through downtown, found neat little local eateries and took Jordie out to eat. (Hutchinson isn't a bad little place!)

I've found, however, that these distractions only postpone reality. When not engaged in distractions, I'm truly awful.

The fact is, it would be easier to just cry and cry and cry and cry ... except it's never convenient to do that. Being around people and crying is uncomfortable for everyone, including me; crying in the car makes seeing and concentrating difficult; even crying in front of pets seems to make the pets uncomfortable. Crying also gives me a massive headache. The day before Mother's Day, I went to the cemetery and spent a couple of hours ... I sat for quite awhile, but only after I cleaned the bird crap off the headstone and pulled all the dandelions from their burial plots. (I suppose I should go again soon, just for the sake of upkeep.) I cried for Mom. I cried for Dad. I cried for Koda. And my head hurt for two days after that visit.

Crying is inconvenient, painful and unwanted. Period.

So here I am today, plodding through each activity and making lists of things I need to accomplish in the upcoming days and weeks. I put one foot in front of the other, with some footsteps more graceful than others.

That's just how it goes, and today isn't all that graceful.

The Great Sadness

If you have read the book, "The Shack," by Paul Young, you probably recognize the phrase "The Great Sadness."

It's what the main character called the feeling that enveloped his whole being after the disappearance and murder of his young daughter.

Yes, he continued to go through life, but he felt as if he were going through the motions. The Great Sadness overshadowed every part of his life. Joy eluded him.

I feel that way now.

And I don't think there's anything more to say.

One year is just around the corner ...

Since my parents died close to a year ago now, I sometimes feel like all I am is a downer when it comes to discussing this whole grief ordeal. Yes, there have been some really great times during the past year ... got to go to Sandpoint, ID, and to Curacao, and I started my Tin Cats Antiques business.

All of that has been great, and the business has been the perfect distraction from my emotional reality.

But, honestly, since about Thanksgiving or a little before, I have struggled. I got a little break from constant sadness when getting ready for Round Top, and then during Round Top ... but then a man from Santa Fe visited with us for a long time at our booth ... and the man looked like my dad in the eyes. I swear we could have been talking to my dad! 

After that, I had difficulty concentrating, especially during the last two days of the show when it was so slow, and because I was sooooo drained. I hadn't had much time to myself, so I felt pretty crowded and overwhelmed.

For a week after Round Top, my days were a flurry and a mess. I had to get my financial stuff straight, figure out where to store furniture our house can't handle, and get some much-needed things done around the house.

Everything is in order now. Dorsey started his new job TODAY! (We've known about it since the day we left for Round Top — thank you, Jesus.) Finances are in order. Taxes are filed. The garage is fixed and painted (Dorsey did it), insurance policies have changed, health insurance is taken care of, pets are all good, the inside of the house is all painted and caught up, the trailer for hauling antiques is bought, Jordie is having a phenomenal baseball season and I'm getting to go to all the games ... 

And here we are. Almost all caught up. 

Mom and Dad with Jordie in May of 2013. Yes, we knew Dad had cancer, and yes, Mom had just had a "small" stroke. Still ... all was well. 

So today, with Dorsey away on his first day on the job (in Tampa — we stay in Amarillo), my parents' deaths hit me like a hurricane, reminding me that distractions only work for a little while. Only a little while. There is no escape from grief. None.

So what happened today to set me off? My usual walk with Indy when I tell God I'm all messed up and confused and disordered, and I don't know where to turn or what to do. And then Jordie texted me that he will be pitching on Friday — his 21st birthday. — and my first thought is, "I need to call Dad!" 

Whoops.

Dammit! (No, Jordie, it's not your fault. It's life.)

And here I am again. 

I know this grief thing is forever. 

I know it is. I will never NOT miss my parents. I will never stop wanting to see them again. I will never stop hoping for the evasive visit from the heavens ... 

But I'm truly counting on the words of my friends before me who say that someday, the memories and thoughts will be more pleasant than painful.

I  need that to be true. 

It's only been almost a year ... I don't think I can last another 30-40 years otherwise ... 

Lord, have mercy.

One down, many more to go!

Our next show!!

So here's the thing: I like to post on my personal site because, well, I like the blog format and I can handle it. Updates to the other site are coming soon ... as well as updated merchandise.

Our trip to Round Top and participation in the Original Round Top Antiques Fair was invaluable. While we had sales success (and some extremely long days, as well), perhaps the best part at this time in our development was the contacts we made. Lots of great people with great connections to other shows and other people.

As a result, we already have lined up a few additional shows, starting with the one advertised in the photo above. 

• Heartland Antiques Show, Saturday June 4 in Richmond, IN.
• The Original Round Top Antiques Fair, Sept. 26-Oct. 1 in Round Top, TX
• Boerne Fall Antiques Show, Nov. 19&20, Boerne, TX
• Fiddlers Antique Show, Feb. 15-18, 2017, Nashville, TN

I can already tell this will be quite a journey. I am exhausted and still recovering from Round Top. Doing these things is a challenge with chronic pain and no time to rest. Somehow, I'll figure out a way to manage. At least I've waited until after the show to crash!! And, not every show is a full six days. Most are one to three days. Fiddlers is four. Regardless, I'm excited. 

I can't believe this is my life now.

.

.

.

P.S. My dad's truck is perfect for this. It pulls a trailer beautifully.

Baptism by fire

Stuff EVERYWHERE! The cats are totally bent out of shape.

Here we go, folks! Dorsey recently posted on the Wilmarth's Tin Cats web site that everything is about to get real ... his perspective.

Of course I get my two-cents worth.

I've been told by fellow dealers I'm getting to know that I'm nuts for debuting our business at a show like Round Top. It is, after all, HUUUUGE! And a big deal. And respected.

And lasts for six days instead of the usual two to three!

Here it all goes, then. Call me brave, call me stupid. It's happening.

I'm totally stoked about this late 1700s hutch table from New Hampshire. If it doesn't sell in Round Top, well, darn, I guess I just get to live with it for a while. :-)

I have spent the last several months plotting and planning my merchandise. I have had all of my "smalls," as we call them in the business, and quite a few furniture items, but my main pieces, the ones I've been extremely excited about, finally arrived after a touch-and-go, nerve-wracking few weeks of truck driver serious illness, bad Louisiana flooding and broken trailer parts. Still ... it's all good now. Besides, what would life be without drama ... always some drama.

I love the grain-painted mustard dry sink (top left). The top right shows a celery painted hanging cupboard.
The green-painted basket and tall wall cupboard came from my new friend in Sedona.

Arizona finds. They all came from New England, of course, but I found them in AZ.

And I found a few bonus items on an unexpected trip just the previous week when I traveled to Arizona to see Jordie pitch in a Tucson baseball tournament. Who would have thought? After all, my stuff is early American, mostly country antiques. Arizona wasn't even founded until 1912 ...

During the first week of March, I set out to get everything on my checklist for my booth and the trip ... much of what was learned after we visited the Round Top Winter Show in January, and from my mother-in-law's vast experience.  My new dealer friends have given their input, too.  Wall paper, tool kit, lights, packing stuff, hooks, nails, screws, signs, bags, various tapes, tax registration info, receipt book, pens, money, tape measure, step ladder, rug ... and all kinds of things I would never think of on my own.

This past week has found me battling a migraine (thank you, West Texas wind) while enduring my torn up house and packing for the show. (Not to mention Dorsey was gone a day or two for job interviews ... still working on that.)

Two kitties think they should go, too.
Socks is guarding all the tools and other important things.

Oh, and then there's the whole planning-what-am-I-going-to-wear-for-six-days-straight? To me, that's the worst part.  I hate packing. Really, really, really hate it. What if I forget something important, like the hanging clothes that aren't packed in my suitcase? Which black sandals do I take? The strappy ones or the wedges? Or both? Both pairs of boots or one? Will this top look OK with that skirt? What about these jeans? Boot-cut or narrow? How about a couple of each? Ugh!

Dorsey picks up the U-Haul trailer in the morning, and we load, with the help of a friend. That's when we run through the checklist one more time and then hit the road. I'm glad to have Dorsey with me this time. That trip to Arizona (and back pulling a trailer) by myself was quite a drive and an adventure!

We'll spend the night with Kim and Vince tomorrow night in Flower Mound and then head on to Round Top Saturday for set up. The show starts Monday. (I still think it's strange this is all happening Easter weekend ...)

And meanwhile, our friend Carmen will be holding down our fort and taking care of our crazy herd.

What a strange new world this is!