Just One More Show

It was 8:30pm, bedtime for the kids. After a long week of school and running, we are all tired on Friday nights. Yet, as usual, when I say it's time for "B-O-D" - a term I picked up from my brother John, who has said that to his daughters since they were 2 years old, they corrected me - "Mommy, bed is spelled B-E-D, and can't we watch just one more show?" I answered automatically, "Nope, bed, as soon as I let Gracie outside." I opened the door and stepped out onto the back porch. The air was warm, the breeze light and the clouds were moving around to reveal the stars.

"Okay!" I yelled. "One more show. Get your shoes on and come out here." They obliged gleefully, and we sat on the back porch and watched the stars. We counted airplanes as they rode through the sky, we pointed out the big dipper and Paige asked, dorkily, that it be filled with milk from the milky way so that she could have a drink. I think she might have actually snorted. After fifteen minutes of random questions, "Will Uncle Jeff be okay? If you could wish on these stars, would you wish for Uncle Jeff to get better?" When I said "Yes" to both questions, they both made wishes on the stars for their uncle. Felt good. Real positive.

By the time I was ready to tuck them in, they were so happy and so refreshed with the show that nature had provided that they didn't give me any fight as I tucked them in. We were all asleep within ten minutes.

This show certainly beat the zaniness of Tom & Jerry, the wholesomeness of Little Bear and the idiocy of The Power Rangers. And it was free.

Running on Empty

Thanks to the human heart by which we live,
Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,
To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.

These are the last four lines of a poem written by William Wordsworth titled Ode on
Intimations of Immortality.

The thoughts I've had lately lie too deep for tears, which explains why my stomach is turning everything over and over, even though my appetite has been less than normal under any circumstances. Maybe the thoughts aren't deep, but there is definitely an overload of thoughts. If my head had a red danger light, it would be flashing, the horn blasting to all who come into contact with me. Too much, too fast and for far too long. I'm tired. So tired of the past two years and the upcoming two years. I'm tired, and tears won't come. Just headaches, irregular heart palpitations and stomach cramps.

I am going to try to obliterate some of the stress by running today - to the point of having to puke, I know that. Once I start, I can't let up, even though it's probably insane, even though my head will probably hurt worse,even though my stomach is sure to punish me for it. I have to run. Too much stress on my back these days.

And what do I do on top of my own thoughts? I throw worry about my family's health (not just Jeff) but everyone else's too because I know that they're suffering too. I want to cry it out. I want to sleep and wake up clear. The thoughts are too deep for that. Ah, but the human heart expands and contracts to make room for all emotions, and perhaps tomorrow, I will face joy. I have to believe that tomorrow, I just might face joy.

Untitled

It is very difficult to think clearly in the midst of a crisis, in the midst of a situation that is out of your control, in the midst of sorting through words from medical doctors that paint a picture of the bleakest reality.

At the moment of seeing the tragedy, we were all equipped with dealing with it. Our hearts were prepared to deal with whatever reality this life gave us. And we stood together, shoulder to shoulder, to gain even more strength. That bond is unbreakable, and the strength from it is divine. Divine. I use that word with a purpose.

Sunrise comes, I climb the ladder...

My life has changed once again. My perspective has changed. My world is spinning just the same, but I am seeing it from so many different viewpoints. I stand outside of the turmoil, and I see it clearly - the "is" in "it is what it is".

Hope soars around me, landing on my shoulder, my hands, my heart...

Faith doctors the picture of reality, makes it palatable and amenable to fixing.

Love is a power stronger than anything.

I have all three. We have all three of these. We can do anything with these.

With these hands... with these hands... with these hands... I pray Lord.

Incredible

The sunrise was just incredible this morning. Shades of pink and purple that Crayola could never imagine. An artist would have cried at the possibilities. A poet would have had to dig deep for words to describe it. And this mother had to hold herself back from waking two sleeping toddlers and wrapping them up in warm blankets to sit outside on the porch and watch as it changed into even deeper shades of pink and purple. Incredible. My camera couldn't capture it, and I tried to show them the pictures I had taken. They've grown used to seeing various images on the camera that Mommy has tried to freeze in time. I'm not that good... but maybe with a better camera. Doubtful. Too incredible.

I won the Mega Millions... spent $10, won $2. I feel richer, somehow. I went to bed last night with questions in my head, running around for a place in line. I concentrated on organizing them, peeling the layers of fog from around them and noting the truth of what was happening inside my head. I broke the thousands of thoughts down into about four real issues. I thought about the questions, asked them succinctly and then gave my mind free rein to figure it all out as I slept. It's funny how all the things that seemed so important last night just disappeared. I can hardly remember why I was so stressed out. Sleep is truly a drug.

So are sunrises. So are early mornings in the quiet. So are radiant smiles from two beautiful children - messy hair, sweet and pungent morning breaths, and an amazing ability to make their mom smile. As I was pouring Tony's cereal, I looked up to see Paige leaning in for a kiss from him - his hands were on both of her cheeks and his lips were out. They kissed, did a quick hug and then looked up at me expectantly, smiling. Oh, I wish I had my camera on me then. But I would have never been able to capture the beauty of it. Again, incredible.

It's only been an hour since I opened my eyes. I won $2, saw a beautiful sunrise, witnessed an incredible kiss, solved majorly stressful problems and am now floating on a super-sized raft of the love of this world.

This is the moment - these kinds of moments are the ones that assure me of my faith that things will turn out okay.

Jeff - I didn't win much in the lottery for you, but I have a hell of an ally on my side.

One Life to Love

It's been a while since I wrote. I had a wicked week full of stress, and on Thursday I decided to take a trip to Buffalo on Friday - and I would drive, not fly. The drive is a long one - 7 hours - and especially long when you leave on Friday morning and go back on Sunday morning. The cost of the flight is usually worth the 14 hours of driving. But I wasn't trying to save money or time with this trip. I was trying to stabilize myself. That drive, with Bruce sitting shotgun, and Van Morrison, Jackson Browne and Mark Knopfler wrestling in the back, was pure therapy for me.

For the first two hours, I couldn't get the divorce from my mind because we kind of settled just two days before. I didn't think about the settlement, I thought about the marriage. And I'll miss it. I'll miss him, and I made up my mind that I will concentrate on the goodness of the marriage, not the bad parts. That's not healthy. And I have forgiven him, and I did love him dearly, and, and... well, it's a chapter closed now. This one does have a happy, yet bittersweet, ending. We'll raise our kids together with love and kindness, and that's the most important. Ah... forgiveness, kindness and compassion. Solves everything.

For the next three hours or so, I thought about Jeff and my family. I heard a song by Mark Knopfler called Golden Heart. It's a phenomenal song and I've always loved it. This time I felt it. I realized that my family - brothers, sister and in-laws found our golden hearts through this crisis that Jeff is facing. We found our golden hearts because of the love we have for each other.

"Live your life as though it is your last." I never liked that quote because it was usually stated by somebody throwing back a beer and contemplating some sinister move in their life. Yet, as I drove, I thought about it a bit more. You only get one shot to make the right choices.

Make the right choices.

It's encompassed in the following chorus of the song One Life to Love:

You only get just one time around,
You only get one shot at this,
One chance,
To find out the one thing
That you don't wanna miss,
One day when its all said and done
I hope you see that it was enough,
This one ride,
One try,
One life,
One ride,
One try,
One life,
To love,
To love...

I don't know. I want to be assured by someone or something that I've made the right choices in my life, and usually I know intuitively if I am on the right path. I think we all do. But, at the same time, I'm a little shaken that others don't see it the same way. I can't say I am right because I don't know. What I am 100% sure of though: In the 26 days Jeff has been in the hospital, I haven't been as comfortable with my life as I was yesterday and today, sitting beside him, holding his hand as he slept and healed. I spent the day choosing to love.

The trip taught me that I will try my hardest to find an opportunity every day to simply love. A tender touch, a kind word, paying for a stranger's coffee at the drive-thru, biting my tongue, offering help, listening...

loving.

Check Yourself

Pieces have been tumbling over each other lately. All the various pieces of my life seem to be hitting a wall, throwing everything back at me, and I'm caught up in the juggling of it all. Life is okay if one thing is wrong - I can handle that. Then, something else gets thrown in, and although wobbling, I seem to still be standing. And then the mother of all bad things happens - a critical injury to someone who has a heated place in your heart, a comfy room, his own covey. And the realization that he might have died hits, and that in itself is two-by-four across the forehead. Then you begin to think about his life, his worries, his upcoming struggles, and the crap just keeps bouncing off the walls - aiming straight for your vital body parts.

Tomorrow is f***ing mediation, and I am struggling with holding those bouncy balls inside me because I just don't want to deal with the fact that the divorce is imminent. I don't know if I am ready for that emotional hurdle yet. I keep saying that I am, but when it comes to having to sign on that dotted line, I know my hand is going to be shaking. It's like signing away one of those vital body parts. The vow is still stitched in. And the talks will be about money, and anyone who knows me, truly, knows that money is so not important to me. But my kids are, and their stability is, so we must. I am simply dreading the aftermath of how I will be defined by his lawyer tomorrow. I should be hardened to it by now, but alas, I am not.

The kids have been great. They grew very crabby today, and were pushing each other and calling each other names. Enough! It's nap time. Boy, they fought me like crazy, but as soon as I got them snuggled beside me in my bed, read two long stories to them, they barely acknowledged my departure through their sleep eyes. They slept for nearly two hours, and tonight at dinner, both of them agreed that the nap was the best thing ever. They are happily playing together, waiting for me to finish this so I can give them a bath. Lovely, lovely children - the blessings of this now-defunct marriage. A little sad, isn't it?

Okay, check yourself Carrie.

They are lovely, lovely children... I'll leave the thought at that. I wish I could stop all the negative thoughts like that. But sometimes, they just exist to be banished I suppose - replaced by relief and closure. Oh, dear, when? When?

Love

In light of it being Valentine's Day, and me being a hopeless romantic (although I haven't had romance in a very long time), I decided to try and write about love. I saw it in my daughter's eyes yesterday as I danced the YMCA beside her in the gymnasium of her school - "the big dance event". They were wide eyes, happy, happy eyes and very secure. Her daddy was there too, and she tried unsuccessfully, to get us to hold hands and dance the twist together (awkward!), but we were connected to her and she looked back and forth between us with such love and gratitude in her eyes. The moment was bittersweet for me as a little pain pierced that dark part of my heart, but I shrugged it off, knowing that it is better this way. Her eyes, man, so awesome.

I saw love this morning in Tony's eyes. He was staring at me, wide-eyed, when I opened one sleepy eye. As soon as he saw my pupil, he grinned the biggest grin I've ever seen. He took my face in both his hands and said, "I love you more than everything Mommy" and kissed me full on the mouth. That's love, and I got that this morning. Happy Valentine's day to me.

Love is forgiveness resulting from understanding.
Love is trust, even when there is cause to doubt.
Love transcends physical distances.
Love is caring for someone, despite being torn apart by that someone.
Love devours hatred.
Love is given freely by my children because they haven't been hardened by the sadness in this life.

Love is what I feel for most people - even the rude bastards on the road, even the looney relatives who make bad choices, even the dickhead who invented those tiny craft beads that children use to make necklaces during craft time.

Incidentally, I'll be wearing a homemade bead necklace and bracelet the next time I go out - maybe next year. Maybe in love again.

Beautiful & Blue

Life is interesting. That is a pretty general statement, but it is true, nonetheless. It is interesting the way the sky changes every day and night. I came home last night, looked up at the sky and saw the darkest blue I have ever seen at night-time - not black, blue with huge, billowy white clouds scattered throughout it, with one or two stars pinpointed in the deep blue. I was awed because I had never seen the sky like that in my life. I've been around for 36 years, and not once have I seen the sky like that! I said a thank you to that sky and I said a prayer for my brother. Interesting juxtaposition of two emotions - gratitude and worry connected in the same thought.

It is interesting the way friendships form. I spoke with a new friend last night and just felt comfortable with him, immediately certain that I trusted him. I told him so too. I spoke with an old friend that I haven't seen in a couple years and felt exactly the same way. It's interesting because I think about the last couple of weeks I've had - certainly the most worried I've ever been, certainly the most pleading with God I've ever been, certainly the most stressed I've ever been - yet, in light of that, I am afforded the opportunity to meet and re-meet two people that I intuitively know are good people. Is this the grace that God affords us when our life is inside a whirlpool of seemingly turmoiled waters? I think it is.

I've learned that when I try to control things - I grow frustrated. This is a new lesson, for sure. I can't control the progress of my brother's recovery. I can't control the people in his life. I can't control any of it. I just have to find certainty in what is given. The sky changes every day and night, and I can't do anything about that except notice it, be grateful for it, and wait for the next scene. Same goes for my brother's recovery. God controls the beauty of the sky. God controls the beauty of his health. I just have to sit and wait for it.

Life is interesting. Life is... good - in a confusing, why-can't-I-just-get-what-I-want-when-I-want-it perplexity that compels everyone, everyone at some point, to find patience, compassion, gratitude and yes, grace.

Out The Other

Right now, Paige & Tony are watching a documentary on how sugar is made. The process is rather disgusting, but they are so into the show! I had to walk away. I just don't care about it right now... Yes, I care about the children and their enrichment, but sugar? Come on, really?

Life has changed.

The robotics of life have changed. Everything is clearer, more precise, sharper. It is much easier to let something go in one ear and out the other. Doesn't matter. Friends, who are not "really" friends [yet, maybe], who complain about the little things - out the the ear. Anything that is not concentrated on the greater good - like, prayers for my brother, feelings of good will toward others, laughter, God... out the other...

It's weird to feel so precise in what is real. It's strange to have that knowledge. Maybe it's a gift. Maybe it's just, well, LIFE, or rather, the life we're supposed to have. I don't know. Like any other human being, I question myself and wonder if the beliefs I hold are worthy of, even, sharing. Yet I've learned that to not share them, to not understand them, is a disservice to myself. Who the hell knows? Life is so complex. We, as a people, have no idea. We're not that smart.

What I do know is what is in my heart.

I want my brother to get better - and soon. That's really all there is right now. My goals, my dreams, my thoughts, my patterns are set by the path of his healing. And that is all that matters to me right now. All other things...

in one ear, and out the other.

Looks Like Sunshine

It feels like Spring in Maryland this weekend. The temperature was in the mid-60s (balmy after the 20s last week). I just sat on my back porch, third cup of coffee in my hand and watched as Gracie took a defensive stance and barked at the gray clouds invading the bright blue sky. I shushed her when she first barked, because naturally I was embarassed. What kind of dog barks at the clouds? But then I just let her go on - she was so intent on watching them and so intent on trying to intimidate them that I think she just wants it to be a beautiful day - clouds be damned.

I want it to be a beautiful day too. I know that it can be. I know the secret to many beautiful days, and it has nothing to do with the weather. I had a conversation with a (new) friend of mine last night. She was happy and upbeat and said that it must have something to do with the weather being so nice - that the sunshine and shedding of winter coats lightened her mood. I can't disagree. Yet, yesterday I spent the day inside. I spent the day cleaning my house, tired, calling to check on my brother's condition and avoiding noticing much of anything. I am sure I went outside, but the balmy weather didn't change my mood. I didn't have many thoughts or emotions either way - not happy, not sad, just complacent and very sure of my place in this life. Very sure.

Unlike Gracie, I am aware that troubles cannot be intimidated with a bark and a growl. Yet, they can be put into perspective, nudged into their own little compartments, and dealt with steadily.

I went out with friends last night, my heart somewhat heavy with guilt because what I wouldn't give to be sitting with my brother and shooting the poop with the rest of the family instead of sipping beers and singing with the band. The first song the band played last night was "Born to Run" and the lead singer sang the crap out of it and his guitar-playing abilities are like the feel of velvet on your fingertips. For the first three notes, tears sprang to my eyes - you see, the thought of Jeff doesn't leave my mind and hearing a Springsteen song these days lowers my "social" defenses (and I'm totally fine with that because it's real). I lifted my beer in a toast to him, and by the sixth note was singing along. My guilt over not being there was lifted because I realized there's not much I can do - and sitting home worrying and feeling lonely does nothing. So, I compartmentalized those troubling thoughts and worries and enjoyed my friends and the music.

Today I'll go to church and listen, and pray and feel that all is right with this world because, well, it is. The gray clouds have moved on, the sky in Maryland is simply gorgeous right now, and the love in my heart, despite what we are going through right now, is real and true and joyful. I am content and confident, and happy... and it's way deeper than anything I have ever known in my life.

It's not the weather, it's my soul- lifted, and full of hope and faith and love.

Oh, What Love Can Do - "darling, I can't stop the rain or turn your dark skies blue, but let me show you what love can do..." I love my best friend Bruce.

Bruce Flintstone

This is too awesome not to share. Hope I don't get in copyright trouble. (Thanks again Chris).

Bad for Good

For every person, it is different. "It" being that moment of clarity where one discovers that they are simply hanging on by a thread, where they discover that the mud that used to be ankle deep is now getting into the nostrils, and it is time to get some help. So they begin to rely more on friends who offer help, they begin to read self-help books, they join a gym, they go back to church, they see a shrink, or they simply make the decision to let the little things go.

Unfortunately, some people never realize they are in trouble. They exist on pure arrogance, lack of faith and the super-human ability of blaming others. I worry about those people the most and send well-wishes to them often. Yes, and sometimes I grow frustrated by them and wish them ill-will too. Yet, in the grand scheme of things, ill-will and bad luck might actually save them. I think this is how it works.

My book club is reading "When Bad Things Happen to Good People." I began reading it some months ago and just couldn't get into it. It was written by Rabbi Kushner, had many verses from the bible and tried to explain away the downs in this up and down life as mere "things" that just happen because life is chaotic. It goes on to say that what you do with the chaos is how you grow. Okay, I can buy that last part, I suppose.

I have an amazing friend. We talk deep every single time we are together. She loves the book I just described - it got her through a time when her brother was in a life-threatening accident. She consistently describes the emergency room where a woman who lost family members said, "This is what God has chosen to happen, and I have to accept it and get through it because it is what He wants us to do." Her biggest beef (and it makes sense) is that God wouldn't do something like this. He doesn't allow bad things to happen like that because He is a good God. Certainly a great argument. We talked about pre-destination and how God has a plan for all of us, He knows exactly what decisions we'll make, etc., etc. This is the part she has a tough time with. She'll say, "God did this? God knew your ex was going to leave you with two kids? God knew your brother was going to have a stroke at the age of 38?" (She hasn't said that last line yet, but I know her). And when she asks these questions, I am stumped. Because, well, God wouldn't do this, would he?

I have been thinking subconsciously about this question for quite some time because I simply cannot accept the arguments in When Bad Things Happen... . At some point, I'll find the answer to these questions. I cannot wrap my mind around it at this precise moment and feel like I've just wasted 15 minutes trying to get there. I suppose I should probably think "book" instead of "blog post" to answer the questions Rabbi Kushner has put before me.

All I know is that Tony woke up giggling this morning. As he came out of his dreams, he was full-on belly laughing. It was delightful, and although he woke us nearly two hours earlier than we normally get up, the laughter was worth it.

I have him and Paige on my back and we are swinging by the strongest, thickest rope ever. Yet, a few months ago I wouldn't have been able to hold them... I was hanging on by a thread, a cob-web thin, blowing-in-the-wind, thread. A bad thing happened and it changed my life for good. Bad for good. I think that's the premise of my argument.

I'll keep thinking as Tony stands beside me... still laughing.

Who gives a...?

I am sitting in front of the same computer I sat in front of eight days ago; I am employed with the same company; I stare at the same clocks; drive the same truck; and alas, I am still single. But nothing is the same. Nothing. What happened last week was life-changing and it still shaking things up, moving things around, rearranging thoughts and feelings and desires... the aftermath of tragedy, I suppose. I shall never go back to the same person I was before this all happened.

My faith is stronger. I have deepened my roots, strengthened my trunk and grown more branches. My faith shall not be moved.

I spent the day in a meeting - real estate training 101. It was incredibly boring - like taking a kindergarten class for me because it is what I have been doing since graduating law school. As I sat there and listened to the instructor drone on and on about her accomplishments, her success stories, and all the little dramas that occur way up in headquarters and way down with the farmer landlords, I kept thinking: "Who gives a sh-t?" Just do your job, punch out and forget about it. Why bring it home? Why relive it in an 8 hour training class where the only reason you are there is because those feigning interest are required to be there.

I heard someone complaining about a scratch on their new car. "Who gives a sh-t?"

I heard another one complaining about the quarter inch of snow and the traffic. "Who gives a sh-t?"

And another complained about his wife spending money on a new purse. "Who gives a sh-t?"

I don't. I don't care anymore. And I doubt that I'll ever go back to thinking that way again. I truly doubt it.

I had a dream last night that turned me upside down, took me back about 17 years and I found it to be one of those moments that could have changed the course of my life, and despite my two beautiful and brilliant children might have been a better choice for me.

Yet I have this... all this. A brother who is healing, slowly healing and a life that includes two incredible children and a wonderful base of family and friends. And for these things, I give a sh-t.

Yubba Dubba Doo

I got to watch an episode of The Flintstones with the kids. In a nutshell, Barney got a job at Fred's work repossessing things. Fred owed money on a TV set. The episode centered upon Barney wanting to quit because it went "against [his] grain." Fred talked him out of it. So instead of taking Fred's TV, Barney used his new paycheck to pay off Fred's debt. The episode ended with a tear trickling down Fred's face at the generosity of his best friend.

Damn if that doesn't describe the friends that have surrounded the Fazzolari's during this week. Friends from college, high school, hometown, across the globe, family... oh dear, thank you! (And keep praying!)

Some certainties that came out of this week of chaos, confusion and compassion:

1. The Fazzolari's are blessed.
2. It's not that tough to get my sister to pee her pants.
3. Miracle after miracle after miracle...
4. Strong arms and a place to rest my head... that is what is missing for me and by me during this week. Divorce sucks.
5. My brother-in-law wins the gold for the best person on this planet. He is tied with my parents, Corinne, John, Cliff, Jim and Jeff... jeez, Kathy, Dana, Lisa and Lynn too... "The Fuzzys!"
6. Popple, Livecchi, Heinhold, Renaldo, Miller = Family
7. Praise, gratitude and love, love, love to God.
8. Humor makes us, gets us through, strengthens us and brings us back to the big picture because it makes us appreciate what we have and so brings on the tears!
9. Leaving Buffalo today was the most difficult thing I have ever done in my life.
10. What happened sucks. What we do with it, opens doors.
11. Barney is a pretty cool dude.