Will You Walk With Us?

"For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11

I'M BACK!

And I'm sorry to say I didn't fulfill my desire to continue writing like I said I would last year.  I even lost access to my blog for awhile.

But I'm happy to have regained it, because I absolutely want and need to keep the story of my parents' journey. That's most important to me.

After Mom and Dad died, my blog captured the inevitable grief that followed, and as I lost my desire to write,  my blog followers also lost the desire to read about it ... like, who can blame you? Not me!

And now? Wow ... so much has happened! I hope you will walk with me on this journey; I admit I probably will need you; maybe you can get something from me, as well.

There truly is no such thing as aging gracefully — at least not as far as I'm concerned. When I began writing this blog, the posts chronicled my experiences with caring for aging parents. That wasn't graceful at all!

Now, I've reached a new chapter in "ungraceful aging."  I'm no longer in my 40s. I recently turned 51, to be exact. And so are many of my Facebook friends, which is so crazy!  I don't feel 51 emotionally, and I don't see my friends as 51. We're still kids, right?

But we're not. We've inevitably been subject to life's rules, and while I might not "feel" 51 ... my poor body feels older than that.

It's my fault, but hold on; we'll get to that in posts to come.

Since my last post, I have continued to grieve for and miss my parents. After four-and-a-half years, I now know that I always will, but I'm not going to talk about that anymore.

I'm living a new chapter now.

Since my last post, Dorsey and I have become true empty-nesters. Hart, 26, moved away to pursue his own career and life in Chicago, and he's having fun traveling most anywhere he wants.  And Jordie, 24, has moved off to Pennsylvania to pursue his career in baseball, which he has always loved.  (He's actually living in the part of the country I only dream about, due to my Tin Cats Antiques business.)

Since my last post, I became a great aunt to the most beautiful baby girl: Rowan Harper Migliaccio. She belongs to my sister's son, Cole, and she is a treasure!

Also since my last post, Dorsey and I decided to sell the house we've loved for 17 years in a neighborhood we've enjoyed. Last year, we were convinced and committed to moving off to New Braunfels, but the house didn't sell.  Recently, shortly after we decided we wanted to stay in Amarillo because of Dorsey's tennis network and our friends, we got an unsolicited offer on our house! How blessed is that?! So, we're selling for another house in another neighborhood in Amarillo. It's a perfect example of how sometimes we make plans God has no intention of fulfilling for us ... at least at the time we want.

The new house — well, so long as it doesn't fall through due to a problematic contingency in the house-buying equation — will allow space for our two home offices, a mother-in-law's quarters for when Mary comes to live with us, and room for antique overflow! It even has a pool, which is a bonus for entertaining. I also believe that pool is going to become important to me in the summers to come.  So, you know ... as perfect as this looks and sounds for us, I can't help but wonder what God is up to with the newest setback, just learned yesterday. However, I've lived long enough to know things will work out.  Just gotta sit tight!

In addition to those developments in my life's newest chapter, I finally have received unfortunate answers for my roughly 20-year progression of chronic pain and illness that has seriously disrupted mine and Dorsey's lives.  We also learned this yesterday.

Nope. There's nothing in the world or in this life that's graceful about growing older. Health eventually and noticeably fails. Our kids move away. Loved ones die. Peers get ill and/or pass on, too. It's just how life works, plain and simple. What makes aging ungraceful are the inevitably human  feelings of sadness, doubt, depression, anger, resentment and fear, among others, that accompany these realities.

Regardless and in the end, I'm still responsible for making the most of my circumstances and my life, and for finding beauty wherever I find myself; I often have to remind myself to suck it up because some people aren't blessed with the privilege of growing old. And, you know what? God even says we are to give thanks in all circumstances ... even if we don't feel thankful. (1 Thessalonians 5:18.)

So I am and I will. But you might have to remind me at times.

I'll share my unfortunate news another time. (Sorry! There's just too much for an already-too-long post to go there now.) And don't quit on me yet by assuming that because of some awful illnesses, I now share Eeyore's world-view; the purpose for picking up the writing again is for encouragement — for me and for anyone else affected by serious chronic illnesses.  I believe I am required to live as spiritually and mentally graceful as possible, no matter my circumstances. That doesn't preclude the existence of some pretty dark days; it just means I have to keep going.  The Bible says in Hebrews 12:1-2: "Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything (italics mine) that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles (uh, like maybe a bad attitude and self-pity?). And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith."

I very much hate that this isn't just my cross to bear. I hate that Dorsey has to go through it, too, but I love that he loves me enough to do it.  Just now, I had to remind him in his discouragement with the house situation and with my health news that we just have to trust.  That's another of God's commands, right? Check out Proverbs 3:5-6.

And sometimes, Dorsey is going to have to remind me to trust, because believe me, I'm no spiritual powerhouse.  Shamefully, my life's story so far has proven me to be quite the opposite.

So, currently, I'm sitting in a house that's in chaos because we've already been taking it apart and packing; but now the move is questionable, or at the very least, on hold. And I have spent several nights the last two-to-three weeks without any sleep at all due to pain that's caused me to cry real tears; some nights, I have gotten a couple of hours or fifteen minutes at a time. Anyone who knows me also knows I love sleeping, so this has been horrendous for me. I'm exhausted. I'm cranky. I'm beaten.

But ...

I also believe 100 percent that everything already is okay because God is in the middle of it, and that "in all things, God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called to His purpose." (Romans 8:28)

So, as I close, I ask again ... Will you walk with us?

Five things about grief and moving forward in healing NOW!

The last time I posted was a year ago, on May 24. As I told someone recently, I haven't much felt the desire to write since Mom and Dad went on to their Heavenly home. Besides, most of my posts after they died were grief-filled downers or "boring" stuff about starting my new business, Tin Cats Antiques.  I didn't know what to do with myself anymore, so I couldn't write. I've been immobilized in my grief, plain and simple.

And, people, in general, stopped reading my blog. Readership when the blog was immensely popular consisted of wonderful, supportive fans of Mom and Dad, and friends kept up with their sad and painful journey through my writings, as well as the difficulties Kim and I faced in the caregiving process. We received so much support, I felt both overwhelmed and grateful.

My readership reflected exactly what happens with emotional support after someone you love dies: It died. I don't mean people stopped caring, I just mean people are people, and it's difficult to watch someone suffer and to believe you don't have the right words to say or to know how to help. We tend to turn away from that which makes us feel uncomfortable. That's just human.

So a couple of weeks ago. I posted an apology of sorts on Facebook about dredging up my grief again. It's anniversary time for Kim and me: Mom died three years ago on May 13, and Dad died three years ago today. I used to work with grieving people in my counseling career, and, of course, I saw people struggle hard when anniversary dates rolled around. It's just a well-known, given thing that happens to grieving people. Research supports it, as well.

And now I know it.

I apologized in my post because I don't want to wear people out with my stuff, but I posted anyway that, yes, it's anniversary time, and yes, I'm feeling it. (And for some reason, it's been worse this year than last.)

I received responses from friends I think I intuitively knew would come from my friends: "Don't apologize for your feelings." "Friends will be supportive, regardless."

That's true, of course. Totally true. True friends will be supportive, no matter where you are. I'll take it even a step further to say that probably if you find yourself grumbling in your head or wherever you grumble, "Get over it already" to anyone who is grieving, you might want to "unfriend" that person, both Facebook figuratively and Real-Life literally. Blunt, but true.

Five truths crystalized for me that day. Actually, they are absolutes I've learned about grief, grieving people, and friends of grieving people:

1. Grief never goes away. Ever. The pain can lessen, and then it can come right back and bite you unexpectedly. But the pain remains forever, and I would submit that the amount of pain is in direct proportion to how much love you have for the people (and pets) you lost.

2. We do not "get over" painful losses. As I was told by experienced others and now know to be true, we instead must learn how to live differently, without the loved ones in our lives.  Therefore, never tell a grieving person something like, "Don't you think it's time you moved on?" My response to anyone who would say that to me now is, "No, but I do think it's time I moved on from you."

3. No two people grieve alike; therefore, never tell someone how he or she should go about grieving. There's no right or wrong way, (although we do need to be mindful of getting stuck in unhealthy ways; that's a post for another time.)

4. Grieving people loved their lost ones so much that we want everyone else to love them that much, too. Seriously. We want you to know just how special and awesome they were. We want their lives to keep mattering, forever and ever. We want their legacies to live. Therefore, let us talk about the loved ones we've lost, as much as we want. And you can talk plenty about them, too. We desperately crave hearing your stories and memories about the people we've dearly loved. Do you find yourself annoyed by this or uncomfortable with it? Well ... you might want to rethink that "friendship" thing ...

5. There are no right words to say. Therefore, you don't have to avoid us out of fear of saying something wrong — except "get over it," of course. All you have to do is be there. Just listen. Just hug (or virtual hug). Just tell us you love us. Just tell us a favorite story about the ones who are gone. Check in every once in awhile. Just let us know you're thinking about us. And if you really think you have to have the right words, then the right words are these: "I don't know the right words. I just know I care about you, and I'm sad you are hurting right now."  It's not hard at all.

In addition to clarifying those five absolutes, something shifted positively within me when one of my mom's friends told me in those Facebook responses that my mom was very proud of my writing talent. My writing talent? Really? I thought I mostly practiced word vomit — at least that's been my style for the past three years.

And here's the coolest thing: On May 12 (the day before the anniversary of my mother's death), I was cleaning out the back house for an upcoming garage sale when I started rummaging through the two boxes of memorabilia, pictures, school assignments, essays, Little Dribbler's uniforms, report cards, calendars, artwork, BARBIES!, "Toddy" bear, my Audrey doll, letters and cards (email didn't exist then!) from family and friends — from birth through graduating with my bachelor's degree — that had been stored for years in my parents' attic. I found things that made me bawl hysterically, but I equally discovered things that made me laugh hysterically or smile with happy memories.

And again and again I read Hallmark cards from Mom and Dad signed, "We love you." "We're proud of you."

New ideas for blog posts started to flow that day, so I'm going to do my best to write again. I would like to honor my English teacher/Librarian mother's enjoyment of my writing.

I don't believe in coincidences. I believe that day I spent blanketed by memories, plus your supportive responses to my Facebook apology, edged me forward in my personal healing. That's just how it works, and that's why we cannot judge another person's grief journey.

Thank you for continuing with me on my journey. I hope you get something helpful from me now and then.

And I'm so grateful to report that the new ideas I gathered for future blog posts have little to do with debilitating grief. Thank you, God ... I think I get to move forward now.

Still just that little girl at the little red table

My new all-encompassing activity of life, from morning until night. Because that's how I do things.

When I was a kid, I sat for hours at the red aluminum child-size card table in one of the two matching red chairs, and colored, painted and drew for hours and hours and hours.

I recently reverted to that little girl when Dorsey surprised me with a "craft" table for Christmas. I actually got it about a week before Christmas, and I knew I was getting it, because Dorsey made it for me. I guess I was spending enough time making messes at the dining room table that something had to change. I've painted A LOT of wooden plaques with game boards, pineapples, sayings, saltbox houses, roosters and chickens ... And, really, where the heck am I supposed to put all of these things?

But that's beside the point. I love my new little red table! I've been spending most of my time at it. I keep thinking that if I spend enough time at artistic endeavors, like I did when I was young, I will get better and better. Maybe I can regain some of that talent I had as a kid. (You know ... if you don't use it, you lose it, right?)

Lisa has seen her sack, but not her gift!

Sadly, I struggle with the same monster that lived in my head as a child — the self-deprecating, mean, evil voice that criticized every effort at every turn. What wasn't good enough then still isn't good enough now. I find that horribly demoralizing, considering the fact that 50 isn't that far away.

I'm not quitting, though, because I still get satisfaction from making these craft table messes ... the same as I did when I was little. I know enough now to understand three things: One, practice will make me better; two, I don't have to listen; and three, depression makes it worse, but this, too, shall pass.

I didn't really know these things as a kid.

Since about the first of November, I've struggled horribly with depression, which is nothing new to me; I've battled it my entire life. It's made its ugly mark on me in countless, destructive ways. This bout is mentionable because it feels worse than usual. My body hurts. My head, my bones, my muscles, my joints, my nerves. Every finger, every toe. Every hair on my head. I've slept a lot ... or at least lounged in bed or on the couch. I've watched every cheesy Hallmark Christmas Movie. It's a good thing I have many pairs of pjs. It's a good day when I take a shower. It's even better if I do my hair and put on a little makeup. (I apologize to anyone I've seen in public. I just haven't given a flying flip, just in case you have. I still had to go to the grocery store and run odds-and-ends errands, whether I wanted to or not.)

It's a good thing I got the Christmas decorations up when I did; otherwise, they wouldn't have happened. For about three to four weeks, I've been relatively worthless in accomplishing anything.

The new little red table.

But I did manage to paint Christmas sacks for wrapping presents. Not all presents, but a few. It provided an interesting solace for me ... after I threw away the first 10 sacks I did. And when I looked at what was most likely number 11 when I saw it again on Christmas Eve, I wondered why I hadn't thrown that one away, either. But I have to admit I've liked some of my creations. I've even wondered whether when Dad died, he channeled his talents back to me? I truly believed I had lost whatever God had blessed me with.)

I had some fun with this one ... and then I almost threw it away.

Painting sacks got me through Christmas. I have to admit I felt the grief of not having my parents here this year even more than last. Maybe I was still in a fog last year? Or maybe I was preoccupied with all the activity I smothered myself in? Whatever ... I felt completely lost this year.

And I will admit that I became one of  millions of scammed Americans recently. I will not share details, but it was related to my antiques business. Almost $1,000 later, I have been left to trust that the FBI is doing something with my tiny, insignificant little report. Somehow, I truly do doubt anything will come of it. I doubt, too, that I will ever know. That, in itself, is depressing.

We also spent $1,000 at the vet's office last week when we learned my precious Jasper has the feline leukemia virus. I had to beat myself up for awhile when I thought I had lagged on kitty vaccinations, but that turned out to be untrue, so at least I could give myself a small break there.

And I'm struggling with other things I cannot control and, thus, must learn to put somewhere in a perspective with which I can live. So I might paint so many sacks I can make a few paper quilts ... I don't know ... because there's a lot of bad stuff going on in the world right now.

What the heck does one do with painted sacks? I know it's a cheap practice medium.
When I went to bed last night, I wanted to throw this sack away. But I woke up
this morning and kept painting dots. 

And as I name a few of these reasons, I need to be firm in saying ... I — and the millions of other people in this world who suffer from depression — don't need a reason to be depressed. I know my life is good. I KNOW THAT.

But that's not how depression ... the mental illness kind ... works. I just happen to have a few reasons to exacerbate the monster's attack. So, yes, I suppose this one does feel a little more powerful than usual.

... God bless all the paper sacks and little red tables in my life!

Stories preserve lives ... so tell them

Oh, how I miss you, Mom and Dad. 

Recently, I was thinking about what I should do with this blog. I started it in dealing with my aging and ill parents, and then it became about them ... and it became wildly popular with all of the people whose lives my parents touched. Writing this blog and hearing the stories about my parents and the people who loved them gave me peace and even joy during that most difficult time of my life. I got to tell my parents' story(s), through me and through those who shared their own memories of my parents.

The single most important thing to me at that time was preserving my mom and dad. I could not bear the thought of their lives ending. I couldn't stand that what was so central to my life was about to be over or, worse, forgotten. I thought that if I could tell and share and hear their stories ... and get it all in writing ... I could save them. I could keep Mom and Dad alive forever.

That's how stories work, right?

To me, nothing in this world is more important than preserving, sharing, respecting and remembering peoples' stories ... their lives. That's all we have — stories. And every story is important. Every story matters. The tears, the joys, the losses, the failures, and the ultimate triumphs. Every person's story shares those same elements. Every life has enjoyed and endured those things. Our stories connect us to one another, from generation to generation to generation ... and they should be told.

Many are, thankfully, and that's how we are blessed with the books and movies we love so much. Of course, true stories of real people come alive in books and movies, but even fiction is based in fact. And every fictional character represents someone real.

So during that time of caring for my parents and subsequently writing posts for this blog, I preached that people should start gathering, saving, writing down ... everything possible ... those things that represented the lives of those important to them, especially for the older folks. I still believe this is a most important task and encourage all who can to do so for their loved ones ... and for themselves. I'm glad to say my kids and future grandkids will get to hear and see lots of stories about Jim and Nicki.

Clearly, my mother valued stories, as well. (She was quite the reader and book lover ... and had her master's degree in library science.) In 2007, she started a blog — Reflections on the Way We Were: Childress High School Class of 1963, that ran for several years. She and her classmates reflected on their lives and history. They shared their current lives with one another, as well. Those writings for all those years in that blog and the subsequent blogs along the way contain valuable history and stories about those people, as well as a ton of wisdom and insight! (Check out the "1968" post.)

How awesome is that!?

On Thanksgiving this year, Jennifer Johnston, one of my mother's classmates who wrote and administered the blogs with my mom, sent me a memory my mother had shared in the comments of one of the posts. Mom wrote about what Jordie and Cole were thankful for at that time in their very young lives, and, of course, it was cute. Jordie and Cole gave my parents so much joy.

I cried, of course. I shed tears of loss, but also of gratefulness. Tears that needed sharing in my still very raw grief. (I'm beginning to wonder whether it will ever end ... )

Jennifer has decided to close out those special blogs. They will still be available for anyone to read and/or stumble upon someday, but she is writing an "ending" that proves to be more central and uplifting than what has seemed lately like an endless line of obituaries for their class of 1963. I mean, really, how depressing is that? Jennifer is doing the right thing. Our lives are more than the endings!

I am so very grateful my mother had the foresight to create those blogs! She and those who shared of themselves and their memories helped preserve lives and history. She and they have given me and others stories. Of real people. Of real lives. Of real sorrows. Of real triumphs.

And, who knows? Maybe someone will come across those blogs dedicated to that small and special Childress Class of 1963 and transform the tales into something others might someday enjoy on a big movie screen. Why not? How else do stories come to life for all to enjoy and relate?

It's certainly something to ponder. And, again, please consider the task of preserving the lives of you and your loved ones ...

As for this blog ... I still don't know.

I'm just thankful for all the stories that get me through everyday life and connect me to you. Grief certainly makes life lonely sometimes.

Next up: Trip of a lifetime

Early Sunday morning, I begin my big journey east ... because I "have to" pick up some antiques I bought in Massachusetts way back in December.

But Dorsey can't go with me because he started a new job not that long ago — although he could go if he wanted, but it just wouldn't be right, you know? 

From the start, I've had absolutely no qualms about traveling that far by myself ... in my truck and pulling my trailer. I think that maybe, besides getting to have amazing antiques in my house and always searching for even better ones, the best part of being an antiques dealer is traveling to all the places I only dreamed about as a child. Maine is one of them. 

Ever since I saw the movie "On Golden Pond," (1981 ... I was 13), I've wanted to go to Maine. In my mind at the time, I never imagined in a million years I would get to go to Maine. Maine was like a whole different country ... even though it's super close to a whole different country. (Yes, I know "On Golden Pond" was not actually set in Maine. But, to me at the time, Maine and New England were synonymous. I think "On Golden Pond" was actually set in New Hampshire?" Someone Google it for me. I'm too lazy.)

Seeing Maine was so important to me that my first fiance (back when I was only 22) planned our honeymoon to Maine. That's how he proposed to me, in fact ... with a Maine travel guide. 

That marriage and that trip never happened.

But 25 years later, Maine is.

First, however, I get to hang out with my 21-year-old baseball playing, baseball loving son. 

So Sunday morning, Jordie and I set out toward Chicago, where we will watch the Cubs play the Brewers at Wrigley field. And while we're there, we will "do" Chicago as much as a day-and-a-half will allow.

Then we will head toward Baltimore by way of Pittsburg first, so that we can see the Orioles play the Astros a few days later. 

(Did I mention that one of the best days of my life — EVER — Hands down — Was when Jordie and I saw the Mets play in NYC while Dorsey worked in nearby Connecticut? Yes. As the song played on the train there that day, "This is gonna be the best day of my lii-ii-ife," it truly was an amazing day.)

After that, Jordie and I head to Boston and spend what little time we have left (a little more than a day)  to experience whatever we can. (Yes, we will be pulling a trailer, and that scares the ever-livin' daylights out of me. But I have confidence ...) 

And, yes, sadly, we're kind of blowing through NYC since we've already gotten to do that, but not Boston. It's just a reality of time and money.

On the 21st, Jordie has to fly back home so he can get back to school. 

BUT ... graciously, my sister flies into Boston about the same time Jordie flies out so that I don't have to finish the last leg of the trip alone. (What? Do people think I can't handle it? Pee Shawwww! I've been pushed out of my comfort zone so many times in the past couple of years, I'm pretty sure I can do anything as long as God (and AudioBooks) is (are) driving ... )

So when Kim gets to Boston, we chill in Boston then head for West Townsend, Massachusetts, so that I can retrieve my goods. We will take it all in there ... and then the fun really begins!

Maine, Maine, Maine. Antiques. Antiques. Antiques. I have it all mapped out.

And when I'm finished doing my thing in Maine, we do Kim's thing at Martha's Vineyard ... not that I'm opposed or anything ... before we head back to the great state of Texas. 

It will take us roughly two-and-a-half days from Massachusetts to Flower Mound, where Kim gets home and I take a nap for the night before heading back to Amarillo.

Two weeks. Two whole weeks to explore much of the eastern part of the United States I've never had the opportunity to see. 

Yes, it's a big deal for a poor kid from Amarillo. I do mean poor. Ask my parents. They'll vouch for me. 

I do believe God gives us the (pure) desires of our hearts ... no matter how many years down the road it takes.

So far, God is batting 1000 in my heart's desires. Maine (and all the rest of the New England states and southeastern states that I someday get to explore further) is one of many. 

(So let me just add another thoughtful addition to this already lengthy explanation of my life's planned-yet-unplanned journeys: Just in case without my knowledge it's my time to go and I don't get to see the rest ... that's OK, I still get to see all the rest!)

In the meantime,  I plan to come back with plenty of photos and stories about this trip. 

Thank you thank you thank you, God. You have every idea how much this means to me. :-)

Can't believe it's happening ... have you ever really stopped and thought about the course of your life ... CRAZY and unexpected, for sure.

... but I'm going to miss Dorsey and my zoo so much! 

My new normal

I wasn't having fun at that moment. In fact, I texted Dorsey: "I'm DONE!"

So much has happened in the almost-month since I last posted. The most significant thing, I suppose, was surviving my second antique show ... this one in Richmond, IN.  This is how it happened, and this is what I learned:

First leg of the trip. Lovely, right?

Loading up. Tornado hit 6 miles from us.

New brick floor while I was gone. Could not be happier.

Greatest find so far. c.1810 New England corner cupboard, original paint

• Just me and Mary: We did it!
• Just me pulling our 11X14 trailer for 15 hours each way: I can do it. Keep packing that cooler with healthy food. 
• Listening to two David Baldacci books along the way: Love Baldacci and appreciate books on CD soooooooo much! (Do audio books count as reading?)
• Experiencing part of the country I've never seen before: This may be the best part of this business venture. Travel travel travel!
• Denting a wheel cover on the trailer the very first day of the trip: Make wide turns, especially at the gas station. 
• Unloading 90 percent of the trailer for the show all by myself: I can do it.
• Loading and unloading in the rain and tornado warnings: That sucked. But even then it was funny. Don't wear flip flops.
• Learning more about the antique business from my mother-in-law and others: Love learning. Must stay positive at all times. 
• Buying the most gorgeous corner cupboard I've ever seen: Probably won't be able to sell this antique. Dorsey and I love it!
• Unloading 90 percent of the trailer back into the house and shop upon returning home: I rock.
• Redecorating my entire house once I returned: Whew! I kinda like doing that.
• 
  

  

  Redecorating can be great fun!

• Getting a brand new kitchen floor ... which I love and adore and love love love: Why didn't I do that sooner? :-) ALWAYS do renovations when you don't have to be there in the mess ... if you suffer from OCD!
• Shows will be much better and less stressful when Dorsey can go, too: I'm strong, but, damn, it's hard work and I'm not getting any younger! And Mary is 88 years old and should NOT be doing this stuff. (She can PACK a trailer!)

I think I'm finding my life's new "normal." :-)

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.

.

.

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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!

My new favorite room in the house

Panorama of the newly decorated room. Notice Blaze photobombing with a bath.

The newly decorated room in our house holds significance for me. It has had many roles since we moved into our house about 14 years ago. Jordie and Hart shared it when they were little. Then Hart took it over when he reached middle school. Then Jordie took it when Hart went to college. And for a couple of months last year, Dorsey and I occupied it while Mom and Dad lived in our normal quarters.

It has remained Jordie's room all this time, but he has reached a stage (sadly) in his life in which baseball keeps him away. He doesn't and won't come home every weekend anymore. <sniff>

Since Hart had the room, it has not been repainted. Need I say how badly it needed it? I decided to overhaul it completely. I was tired of the "dark" decor before. I needed light and bright. I needed clean-looking. I wanted it to have the same blue and white color scheme (although not seascape) of the bathroom Dorsey and I had redone just the previous year.

I think I managed, so I'll show you in pictures. (I apologize for the arrangement. Blogger sucks at this!) This room is all about family and family history, inspired by Mom and Dad. :-)

This comforter and pillows had at one time been on my parents' bed.
The bedside table is part of the once-navy blue furniture that belonged to my dad's dad. Mom had painted it from its original blonde to navy. I repainted and put new hardware on it. I love the water lilies painting above the bed. 

I painted this once-unpainted TV stand red
many years ago. Here, I have repainted it.

I saw this cabinet a few weeks ago in a consignment
store. Had to have it for this room. 

This cabinet holds favorite children's books.
The bottom cabinet holds more books and photo boxes.

My Great Grandmother Cummins painted this lamp. It's Kim's. I'm just holding it for her.

This dressing table is now a mismatched distressed blue with Chippendale hardware. (I know, the styles don't go together.) Underneath the glass I have made a collage of old family photos, as far back as 1900. The bulk of the photos are currently in separated boxes that someday I intend to organize in photo albums. That's what Mom always wanted to do. Those photos are stored in this room, as well.  I didn't use the original mirror with this table. Didn't like it! The new one is from Kirkland's ... another mismatched, distressed blue.

The dresser, with another painted lamp, and a older family photo. 

Colored pencil drawing of a young Hart. (Sun shadow, sorry.)

Colored pencil drawing of a young Jordie.

The hope chest belonged to my dad's side of the family. It's art deco, not really my style, but it's family. The quilts also all are early 1900s from the Childress side of the family. Those cats on the top are actually a hooked rug I bought.

The oriental rugs for the room haven't arrived yet, and I'm sure I'll continue to change and refine as I go along. I need photos from Dorsey's side of the family to complete the family theme of this room. (Hint hint, Mary.)

Anyway, I've had a lot of fun and experienced many memories doing this room. I worried when doing it that it wasn't going to be the 18th Century style of our antiques business. I worried that the Chippendale hardware I was putting on the old but non-Chippendale furniture was stupid. But as I went along and enjoyed what I was doing with the things I have, I stopped worrying. I remembered a friend saying that she had heard from someone else in the decorator world that anything in your home that brings you joy should be in your home, regardless of matching or mismatching styles.

This now my favorite room in the house. It brings me joy.

Change change change change change ...

Yep, here I am sitting in the middle of the utility room floor, painting.
I'm trying to accommodate for our cats. That old carpet had to go!
I need something I can easily clean!!

Mom and Dad's house is scheduled to close this week or next. We had offers on it within a day of it going on the market. I really didn't expect that, but I suppose that's good if it's time. Obviously, it is. The house is going to what appears to be a nice young family who will bring life to this house my parents loved. (Thank you, God. And you know the funny thing? The husband of the family owns a lawn business. My parents adored and doted on — built — that backyard. I just know this family will make it even better. And Mom and Dad would be so happy.)

Selling our parents' house is the last big thing for Kim and me to do with their "things." As we have checked off each of these tasks, I have surprisingly found myself in deeper depression than in relief. There's finality in all of this. There's the absolute, "They aren't coming back!" in all of this. (I certainly understand why some people put these estate things on the back burner for years. Kim and I are just extremely task-oriented, and well ... property taxes aren't fun to pay, especially when they're for no good cause.)

New cabinet for the newly-redecorated Jordie room — which was once Hart's room.

I continue think to myself, "It wasn't suppose to be like this."

Because it wasn't. Not in my child-like mind. Sure, most people assume they will outlive their parents (and that's how it should be, for the sake of our parents), but when it happens, it's a huuuuuuuge shock. I mean, Mom and Dad should always be there, right?

So, here I am, in the remaining days of wrapping up Mom and Dad's estate, and taking care of my own.

The former Jordie/Hart bedroom is in the process of becoming a guest room.
I have repainted furniture (from my grandparents' that my mom repainted for Hart's room).
When it's all said and done, I'll share some pics.

Although I always knew this, the notion that I don't have control over much in my life finally began to sink in about three years ago.  This became more and more clear as my parents became ill and then passed. Life last year became a matter of "do what you gotta do today," and that was absolutely it.

Here we go again.

You know if you've followed my life/blog recently that Dorsey was laid off from his job a little more than a month ago. This is scary stuff. Yeah, I know God has the solution all worked out and it's all good. That doesn't mean I always appreciate God's timing. I'm like, "C'mon, God. I know you've got this, but can we have this joblessness thing end sooner rather than later? Thanks!"

The truth is, we don't know where Dorsey will end up, job-wise. Yes, I'm finally willing to move from Amarillo. But I don't want to. It's not necessarily Amarillo itself. I mean, Amarillo is what it is. It's my home, good and bad. So you know what that means ... But it's home.

And I love my house ... my home for the last 14 years. I'm finally getting it into the shape I want it to be in ... the shape that matches the things we have, plus our style. I'm finally furnishing and making this house exactly how I've imagined for a very long time. (OK, yeah, I have even bigger picture ideas, but let's start small.)

And now, we might (likely) have to move, just to follow a job that will insure our livelihoods for at least a little while longer.

Such irony.

All this stuff I'm doing now — the ONLY things I have control over each day — is either for us or for whomever buys this house in the event we are forced to move from Amarillo.

Oh, the metaphors for life and homes and houses and all that ...

Everything but the grief

The garage sale at our house to let go of more of our parents' things went well. I'm still shocked by the amount left over.

So I will say it again: Every year, I'm going through our things and ridding us of whatever we don't use or enjoy anymore.  I told that to anyone and everyone at the garage sale who would listen.

I decided to keep a few more of my parents' things ... chairs that go so well in our living room (so we sold a love seat), some small fiesta dishes and a little dish "thingy" my mom bought years ago from the ABC Catalog. That bowl set is symbolic of the many, many, many Mexican Pile-on dinners we had at my parents' house. It just has to stay in the family and carry on with its beloved duties, I guess.

Today we boxed up and delivered the rest of the things to Downtown Women's Center.

It's over. That's over. (I hate garage sales, and people sometimes simply make me go ... "hmmm.")

Kim and I accepted an offer on my parents' house. It appears that if all goes as planned, that will be over in mid March. I cried when accepting the offer. I only want the house to go to people who will love it and take care of it. My parents poured themselves into it; it was the first and only home they ever owned. That backyard was their pride and joy.

Then it's over. Really over.

Everything but the grief.

Truly, I can't believe it's almost been a year since Mom and Dad died. It feels like yesterday. I cry sometimes like it was yesterday. I cry every time I take Indy for a walk, so lately, that's been about 5 days a week.

And if you're tired of hearing about it, sorry. I'm tired of living it.  What I am learning from others who have been through this is that the pain never goes away ... no matter how old you are or how old your parents were when they died. Instead, you somehow just move on to living life without them in it.  Woo - effing - hoo.

Whatever. I'm so not in the mood for grief.

*****

Dorsey is still job-searching. It's been a month since he got laid off, and he's worked hard every day in his quest for something new. He's treated the job search like a job. Thankfully, he has a few irons in the fire, which keeps us hopeful and emotionally able to keep going. Of course, we hope something works out soon; it's quite scary to be in this position. I try not to think about a time when no fish are biting, and he's just casting his resume into the big black hole, as he calls it.

Not knowing whether we're staying in Amarillo or moving somewhere else is unnerving to me. I don't know why. I just don't care much for uncertainty. There was a time not long ago when I was adamantly opposed to moving because we were just getting to the point where I could do things to the house I would love. Our home is perfectly designed to house early American antiques, some of which are quite primitive looking. (Plus, I've always thought about how much crap — after 14 years of living here — we would have to sort through, which seems daunting. But I have done a great job of unloading things lately.)

Now, while I still think about those things and have determined I might as well still go on with the low-cost home improvements (painting, etc.) ... one, to stay busy and the other, to help resale potential ... I have resigned myself to moving.

In fact, sometimes I enjoy thinking about making a new start in a new place with new people who know absolutely nothing about me. This is popularly known as the "geographical cure," which really doesn't exist, you know. Still, there could be some fun things about it. But if we're going to move, I hope it's closer to Kim and Vince; our family seems awfully small right now. And I hope that someday, Jordie will settle close to us, too. Doesn't much look like Hart will (he's in Maryland), but you never know.

*****

Speaking of Jordie, baseball is going GREAT for him. (School has never been an issue.) He is doing well in his pitching, and old injuries are staying out of the way. His team is doing well, and I have been able to see him play. When he's been on the pitcher's mound, I've pictured his granddad looking down from Heaven's portal, Grandma by his side, and they're cheering him on. I know my dad would be so pleased. Interesting fact: When I've actively watched Jordie in a pitch, imagining my dad watching, Jordie has thrown strikes.

*****

We finally launched our new business! Wilmarth's Tin Cats Antiques. http://www.tincats.com
Yes, please visit the site, shop, refer it to others and help us to carry on. This business has been the key to my moving on at all during the past several months. And, ironically, it has only been possible because of my parents. My mom would be so proud, I know this is true ...

.... time to go wipe my eyes and blow my nose ...

Grief sucks.

More letting go

The estate sale went well. Still, so much stuff remained, especially furniture and clothing.

Normally, Jan (who did our estate sale) would determine with us a plan to unload the items still left. That could be auction or donation or whatever. And then she and her crew would clean the house and get it ready for sale, because the house goes on the market today.

Instead, Dorsey and I decided we would do a garage sale at our house. We had already planned to have one ourselves, because we have figured that when Dorsey gets a new job, it will not be in Amarillo.

So Monday and Tuesday, I cleaned out the rest of Mom and Dad's house. Jan had already done the hardest part of sifting through and organizing. I really just packed and boxed things up to get them ready for our sale. My mom really liked dishes and serving platters ...

I hadn't really expected the task would be so emotionally daunting, but it was.  The first day, I came home and spent the rest of the night in a stupor on the couch. The second day wasn't much different.

Our housekeeper, Anabel, cleaned the house to ready it for sale. Anabel has cleaned our house and my parents' for several years. She started cleaning for Mom and Dad after Mom had her first stroke in 2013. When Anabel walked into the house, she said in her timid English, "Smells like Nicki," and she smiled broadly.

While sorting through my parents' things, I thought about the things left over. These were once special and/or important items to my mom. Or, they were things she had kept from both sides of the family when relatives had died. I wondered how much of the things left were something she would sell in a garage sale. I found myself wondering frequently why certain things hadn't sold. In fact, a few things were left behind that I took home myself ... things I missed the first time. Maybe that's why some were left.

Going through the clothes to donate to the Downtown Women's Center was without a doubt the most difficult experience. Both of my parents took great pride in their clothing. After Dad retired from coaching, he became quite a sharp-dressed man. He had his style, and it was all Dad. On the other hand, clothes to my mom had always been important. I remember reading a series of letters she wrote to her parents when she was away at college. She talked about all sorts of stuff, of course, but "cute clothes" were included in her writings. I remember my mom reading the letters again and saying, "I can't believe how shallow I was!" But we laughed.

I found myself carefully and gently boxing and bagging up their clothes. I was struck by how, when I've donated my own clothing in the past, I just hurriedly tossed them into bags, and that was that. I could not do that with my parents' clothes. The majority were dry-cleaned and perfectly pressed. I wound up packing 15 bags and seven boxes of clothes. And I decided right then and there I would go through my own things once a year to weed them out! That was just way too many clothes!!

I noticed how all of my mother's clothes were "teachery," because she was a teacher/librarian. She had so many holiday-related sweaters! I recognized many of the things she wore and thought, "I remember that!" I pictured her getting ready for school every morning.

It was no different with Dad. Our cowboy. Boots, jeans, hats, shirts, slacks, golf shirts ... All of it quite expensive.

I felt sad to let it all go. It was as if I were having to let go of them ... a huge part of them and their personalities. I told my sister that I hoped whomever would be getting these clothes took good care of them and appreciated them. I've never thought that about my own donated clothes.

While painful, this process was necessary for my own grieving. I think it was a significant task in the letting go process. But as I have thought for some time now, I know my grieving will never completely end. I will just learn begrudgingly how to live with it. I know I will never stop being that little girl inside who wants and needs her parents. A part of me will always think, "This isn't how it was supposed to be."

So here I am again ... gathering things from our house for the giant sale, which will be next Saturday, Feb. 20.  It will be more letting go, both literally and symbolically.

But really ... it was never supposed to be this way ...

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.