If you've ever had the good fortune of getting hooked on the TV show, The Wonder Years, you've been introduced to good writing, and some thought-provoking episodes.
Paige is hooked on the show though it is more than a decade older than she is. That's longevity.
Tonight's episode is about how a family, completely naive of ever having had a death occur within it, deals with it. It's on right now as I write this, and Paige is cuddled beneath a blanket, enthralled.
The wonder years. . .
Never had them until I turned 35 years old or so. I wondered about boys. I wondered about romantic love. I wondered if God existed. I wondered if I'd be able to get through the death of a loved one. I wondered what would happen if I ever got a divorce. I wondered if I would ever quit a job. I wondered if my hair would turn gray. I wondered what I would say if I was ever diagnosed with a disease.
There is a very big part of me that is upset for ever wondering about any of these things! If I hadn't thought about them, pondered my reactions to them, worried so about them - - - well, maybe none of them would have happened!
Boys are boys. Some are full of integrity and humor, laughter and love. Some of them suck.
God exists. No doubts anymore. No wondering. No worries.
Have had a fair share of "getting through" the death of loved ones. . . still walking the walk, striding through the journey, learned that "getting through" is impossible though moving forward within the void, is.
Divorced. Eh, it is what it is. Still working hard to raise my babies to know family though.
Did quit a job. Part of me liked it, part of me loved it.
Loreal Preference does wonders for the grays.
Been diagnosed. Still here.
The wonder years.
They begin, they grow, they continue.
This life is a kingdom of days. Nothing more. Nothing less.
God exists.
No worries.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Saturday, March 24, 2012
Wounded
I have six candles lit in my living room. I am waiting for the dimness of dusk to gather me up, and settle me in. The further I delve into the silence of this still house that I’ve made my home – my own – I am aware that I am still a part of that long-time healing --- that long-time healing that steals the awareness of all that is good sometimes. Sometimes, it steals away the brevity of warmth that once surrounded this home. It was brief but whole.
I spent yesterday evening and this morning and afternoon with women who are incredibly talented, incredibly beautiful and tender, and soulful, and aware. I spent the evening and morning considering the broken places that people find themselves.
I am fortunate to have a good group of friends, who, when a women’s retreat was in the books, invited me. We met for dinner at the church hall, gathered in the pews of the church and shared laughter, songs and a story of courage that could have been made part of anyone’s life.
I was brought to tears a couple times – - - sometimes because I was feeling so very lost within myself, sometimes so driven with compassion, sometimes so hopeful and happy and full of life, and sometimes. . . I just didn’t know why.
This morning we talked about redemptive relationships - - - how God provides the opportunity to forgive, to be compassionate, to rejoice. We talked about authenticity.
I spoke a couple of times. The first was to tell the majority of women that were gathered around me that I envied them. I envied that they were in marriages, raising their kids with a husband, coming home to a person who, regardless of how well you got along, knew you. As soon as the words left my mouth, I kind of laughed and said, “But I also know that marriage sucks sometimes.”
At another time I mentioned that I’ve kind of given up dating, mentioning that I might have a problem with “small talk” and that I tend to delve into the deep. That got a laugh too --- especially when my friend said, “You need to give the guy a chance to talk about the weather. . .”
As we all shared our stories - - - marriage, family relationships, kid angst, and especially our own struggles - - - I found that my heart, though hurt for the brokenness in the hearts of these wonderful women, became buoyant. I was not alone. And we were gathered together – in the name of God we were gathered together – and there is such great comfort in that.
As the sky dims, as the candles flicker, and as the music on my i-pod plays in the background (I just downloaded “Rocket Man” by Elton John which is one of very few songs that I always listen to for some reason), I want the darkness to come. I want the darkness to surround me so completely that the only things I see are the flickering candles.
Then I want to cry.
I want to cry and cry and cry and let all the tension from work, all the tension from being a single mom with mounds of laundry to fold and put away, all the tension from homesickness (yes, I’ve been here 13 years but I still miss home), and all the tension that comes from being companion-less, out. I want to let it out for a little while.
I want big bubbles of tears to roll down my cheeks, and I want to cry to the sky and beg for freedom from the pain in my heart. I want to feel the arms of all those I’ve loved and lost around me. I want the brokenness that I rediscovered over the past couple of days to hit me hard in the face, and cripple me for a few minutes.
Because if I continue to move without moving forward - - - spiritually, emotionally, mentally - - - I’m not going to get anywhere.
So tonight, I pray for darkness.
I spent yesterday evening and this morning and afternoon with women who are incredibly talented, incredibly beautiful and tender, and soulful, and aware. I spent the evening and morning considering the broken places that people find themselves.
I am fortunate to have a good group of friends, who, when a women’s retreat was in the books, invited me. We met for dinner at the church hall, gathered in the pews of the church and shared laughter, songs and a story of courage that could have been made part of anyone’s life.
I was brought to tears a couple times – - - sometimes because I was feeling so very lost within myself, sometimes so driven with compassion, sometimes so hopeful and happy and full of life, and sometimes. . . I just didn’t know why.
This morning we talked about redemptive relationships - - - how God provides the opportunity to forgive, to be compassionate, to rejoice. We talked about authenticity.
I spoke a couple of times. The first was to tell the majority of women that were gathered around me that I envied them. I envied that they were in marriages, raising their kids with a husband, coming home to a person who, regardless of how well you got along, knew you. As soon as the words left my mouth, I kind of laughed and said, “But I also know that marriage sucks sometimes.”
At another time I mentioned that I’ve kind of given up dating, mentioning that I might have a problem with “small talk” and that I tend to delve into the deep. That got a laugh too --- especially when my friend said, “You need to give the guy a chance to talk about the weather. . .”
As we all shared our stories - - - marriage, family relationships, kid angst, and especially our own struggles - - - I found that my heart, though hurt for the brokenness in the hearts of these wonderful women, became buoyant. I was not alone. And we were gathered together – in the name of God we were gathered together – and there is such great comfort in that.
As the sky dims, as the candles flicker, and as the music on my i-pod plays in the background (I just downloaded “Rocket Man” by Elton John which is one of very few songs that I always listen to for some reason), I want the darkness to come. I want the darkness to surround me so completely that the only things I see are the flickering candles.
Then I want to cry.
I want to cry and cry and cry and let all the tension from work, all the tension from being a single mom with mounds of laundry to fold and put away, all the tension from homesickness (yes, I’ve been here 13 years but I still miss home), and all the tension that comes from being companion-less, out. I want to let it out for a little while.
I want big bubbles of tears to roll down my cheeks, and I want to cry to the sky and beg for freedom from the pain in my heart. I want to feel the arms of all those I’ve loved and lost around me. I want the brokenness that I rediscovered over the past couple of days to hit me hard in the face, and cripple me for a few minutes.
Because if I continue to move without moving forward - - - spiritually, emotionally, mentally - - - I’m not going to get anywhere.
So tonight, I pray for darkness.
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Changes
The first blooms of an early spring are sprouting. There are so many mating animals in my backyard that I sometimes cringe witht he thought of all the naughty happenings within a few feet of my purview. But alas, it is natural, I suppose.
I've been thinking about writing a lot lately. I walk past the manuscript, with all the edits that need to be made, and I smile. It's a bunch of work. The sun is beginning to be more apparent in the sky, and sitting at the picnic table on my back deck with a red pen and a head full of creativity is so very appealing.
I cannot for the life of me begin to understand why I punish myself by not writing and finishing it all. I texted my brother the other night and basically revealed that when I wrote the first three drafts, I didn't have the knowledge or life experience that I have now, and so I see the hard work I had put into as a pile of garbage. Yet, when I read it over, I see that it is not garbage.
Maybe it's the mating animals, maybe it's the big sun in the sky, or maybe it's just that ache inside to just keep moving, and editing, and writing, and learning.
I may never publish because I am always changing and so, I feel like I cannot stay stationary enough to finish the manuscripts I have going. This might be one topic the "Write Your Novel" books do not address.
Yet, as always, I ask: Does it matter? Does it matter if I ever finish it as long as I am continually recognizing the evolution of my heart?
I think it does.
I've been thinking about writing a lot lately. I walk past the manuscript, with all the edits that need to be made, and I smile. It's a bunch of work. The sun is beginning to be more apparent in the sky, and sitting at the picnic table on my back deck with a red pen and a head full of creativity is so very appealing.
I cannot for the life of me begin to understand why I punish myself by not writing and finishing it all. I texted my brother the other night and basically revealed that when I wrote the first three drafts, I didn't have the knowledge or life experience that I have now, and so I see the hard work I had put into as a pile of garbage. Yet, when I read it over, I see that it is not garbage.
Maybe it's the mating animals, maybe it's the big sun in the sky, or maybe it's just that ache inside to just keep moving, and editing, and writing, and learning.
I may never publish because I am always changing and so, I feel like I cannot stay stationary enough to finish the manuscripts I have going. This might be one topic the "Write Your Novel" books do not address.
Yet, as always, I ask: Does it matter? Does it matter if I ever finish it as long as I am continually recognizing the evolution of my heart?
I think it does.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
"Stop the Fight!"
I know that all the Rocky fans know where that line comes from; and I also know that all my siblings know exactly how my father said it so perfectly. "Stop the fight. . ."
Did you know that Yo, Adrian says it in Rocky IV too? Just heard it tonight because the kids and I, once again, are on a "let's watch Rocky" kick.
Watching Rocky IV, where Yo, Adrian and Rocky are probably the worst actors to ever star in a #1 movie - - - ever - - - brought forth a pretty funny memory.
"Eye of the Tiger" by Survivor was a very popular song at the time - - - undoubtedly because of Rocky III - - - and this was well before CD's, i-tunes, or the age where my brother Jeff and I had money to go out and buy the single. In fact, all we had was the radio and a cassette player.
I made the first call to 103.3 in Buffalo.
"Hey, could you play Eye of the Tiger by Survivor?"
"Sure kid, will be up in the next hour."
We waited about 30 minutes, and Jeff called.
"Hey, can you play Eye of the Tiger by Survivor?"
"Sure kid, be up in the next hour."
Another half-hour goes by and I call back,
"Hey, are you gonna play Eye of the Tiger soon?"
"Yes, should be up soon, Doll."
Another half hour goes by. No Eye of the Tiger.
So Jeff calls. Then I call. Then Jeff calls. Then I call.
"Listen you little fuckers, I told you that I'd play it. I'm not a fuckin' wedding DJ, I have to follow a schedule..."
Jeff might have said, "Blah, blah, blah, just play it. And don't talk at the beginning of it, we're trying to record it."
The wedding DJ hung up. Jeff and I laughed our asses off. We may have even called again.
So, here's to Rocky, and here's to Survivor - - - the one-hit wonder who tried to make it big with a majority of the songs in Rocky IV that sunk to the bottom, because when the first notes of the Rocky theme come in, everyone forgets.
(And just so you know, the notes of the Rocky theme are only about 3 seconds long, and they are hidden within synthesizers and bad 80's hair).
Other than the height difference between Ivan Drago and Rocky; and of course, the hidden meaning that underlies the film (Apollo competing with himself and his age, yearning for Glory Days), it's kind of a disappointment. . . but it's Rocky!
Glad they didn't stop the fight. Paulie has the best line: "If I could be anyone, Rock, I would want to be you. Now go bust this guy's teeth out." After Paulie sees Drago he says, "Remember what I said back there about wanting to be you? Forget it."
"I must break you." This is only one of like three lines that Ivan Drago - - - the steroid-using, misunderstood, cold-hearted Russian - - - has in the film.
Stop the fight!
Did you know that Yo, Adrian says it in Rocky IV too? Just heard it tonight because the kids and I, once again, are on a "let's watch Rocky" kick.
Watching Rocky IV, where Yo, Adrian and Rocky are probably the worst actors to ever star in a #1 movie - - - ever - - - brought forth a pretty funny memory.
"Eye of the Tiger" by Survivor was a very popular song at the time - - - undoubtedly because of Rocky III - - - and this was well before CD's, i-tunes, or the age where my brother Jeff and I had money to go out and buy the single. In fact, all we had was the radio and a cassette player.
I made the first call to 103.3 in Buffalo.
"Hey, could you play Eye of the Tiger by Survivor?"
"Sure kid, will be up in the next hour."
We waited about 30 minutes, and Jeff called.
"Hey, can you play Eye of the Tiger by Survivor?"
"Sure kid, be up in the next hour."
Another half-hour goes by and I call back,
"Hey, are you gonna play Eye of the Tiger soon?"
"Yes, should be up soon, Doll."
Another half hour goes by. No Eye of the Tiger.
So Jeff calls. Then I call. Then Jeff calls. Then I call.
"Listen you little fuckers, I told you that I'd play it. I'm not a fuckin' wedding DJ, I have to follow a schedule..."
Jeff might have said, "Blah, blah, blah, just play it. And don't talk at the beginning of it, we're trying to record it."
The wedding DJ hung up. Jeff and I laughed our asses off. We may have even called again.
So, here's to Rocky, and here's to Survivor - - - the one-hit wonder who tried to make it big with a majority of the songs in Rocky IV that sunk to the bottom, because when the first notes of the Rocky theme come in, everyone forgets.
(And just so you know, the notes of the Rocky theme are only about 3 seconds long, and they are hidden within synthesizers and bad 80's hair).
Other than the height difference between Ivan Drago and Rocky; and of course, the hidden meaning that underlies the film (Apollo competing with himself and his age, yearning for Glory Days), it's kind of a disappointment. . . but it's Rocky!
Glad they didn't stop the fight. Paulie has the best line: "If I could be anyone, Rock, I would want to be you. Now go bust this guy's teeth out." After Paulie sees Drago he says, "Remember what I said back there about wanting to be you? Forget it."
"I must break you." This is only one of like three lines that Ivan Drago - - - the steroid-using, misunderstood, cold-hearted Russian - - - has in the film.
Stop the fight!
Monday, March 5, 2012
Tomorrow is a Great Day!
Do you know what tomorrow is? It's one of the greatest days of. . . well, ever! You know why?
Let's think. I'll give you clues.
1) It's March 6th, 2012.
2) I was born on March 8th, 1972.
3) For those of you who cannot do the math (or care to do the math), I will be 40.
4) 3 years ago yesterday, at the age of 38, my brother Jeff passed away and it sucked.
5) Thus, he never made it to 40 (though at his 30 he wore assless chaps and was a very big hit at his birthday party)
6) A very big time to celebrate!
7) My party is on the 10th.
8) Y'all are invited!
9) My brother John and his family will be here on the 9th
10) My brother Jim will be here on the 9th
11) I have to work in Richmond tomorrow, staying overnight, returning on Wednesday, the 7th (a great day)!
12) I do not have to work on Thursday, the 8th, or Friday, the 9th.
So why is tomorrow an awesome day? More hints are needed. . .
13) I love my sister
14) A lot
15) A whole lot
Still don't get it? Of course not! You just don't know.
Okay, tomorrow is the 6th and it is a great day because. . . . . .
My sister comes in on the 7th via the airplane and she and I will spend the two days I have off from work together before anyone gets here, and we'll laugh and talk, and laugh and talk, and talk and laugh, and hang out with the kids, and share stories and laughter and we'll bond and cook, and eat and laugh, and shop and get massages and laugh and well, tomorrow is a great day because . . . . .
it's one day closer to seeing my sister!!!!!
Let's think. I'll give you clues.
1) It's March 6th, 2012.
2) I was born on March 8th, 1972.
3) For those of you who cannot do the math (or care to do the math), I will be 40.
4) 3 years ago yesterday, at the age of 38, my brother Jeff passed away and it sucked.
5) Thus, he never made it to 40 (though at his 30 he wore assless chaps and was a very big hit at his birthday party)
6) A very big time to celebrate!
7) My party is on the 10th.
8) Y'all are invited!
9) My brother John and his family will be here on the 9th
10) My brother Jim will be here on the 9th
11) I have to work in Richmond tomorrow, staying overnight, returning on Wednesday, the 7th (a great day)!
12) I do not have to work on Thursday, the 8th, or Friday, the 9th.
So why is tomorrow an awesome day? More hints are needed. . .
13) I love my sister
14) A lot
15) A whole lot
Still don't get it? Of course not! You just don't know.
Okay, tomorrow is the 6th and it is a great day because. . . . . .
My sister comes in on the 7th via the airplane and she and I will spend the two days I have off from work together before anyone gets here, and we'll laugh and talk, and laugh and talk, and talk and laugh, and hang out with the kids, and share stories and laughter and we'll bond and cook, and eat and laugh, and shop and get massages and laugh and well, tomorrow is a great day because . . . . .
it's one day closer to seeing my sister!!!!!
Sunday, March 4, 2012
All That Heaven Will Allow
March 4th is a pretty shitty day in the historical data of the Fazzolari family. Up until 3 years ago, it was just March 4th - - - no strings attached. Now? A pretty shitty day. I can recall in detail the phone call that my mother made to me on March 4th, 2009, and I can recall falling to my knees, attempting to hold the break in my heart together by crying and denying; and failing, suffering and acknowledging the fact that I never could have imagined such emotional pain. I've described Jeff's death as something that changed the volume of my soul, because when he died, a piece of it went with him up to heaven.
Yesterday was a busy day. The kids and I awoke early and found a web program that would allow them to create themselves as a Pokemon character. I have no idea what Pokemon is and why the cards are an obsession, but as Tony stood next to me with one hand on my shoulder as I typed in his "power" for agility and resistance, I didn't care. We picked his powers, we found a picture of his face from earlier in the year, and we created a card. He was overjoyed, and when he hugged me and thanked me with all his heart, I knew that heaven had allowed the moment.
Following our productive morning, we went to karate, where Paige performed a fourteen step routine, fought off a kid that was about a foot taller, and watched as she earned a higher belt. The smile on her face, the pride in my heart, and the offer of congratulations to her from her little brother were just events of another allowance.
To celebrate, and because it was lunch time, we went to Friendly's. As we sat there, we drew funny faces on a pad of paper - - - with crossed eyes, big nostrils, enormous ears and wayward hair - - -, I heard the notes of a Springsteen song playing softly on the speakers above. Like a dog, I cocked my head so that I could name the tune.
"Rain and storm and dark skies, well now they don't mean a thing if you got a girl that loves you, and who wants to wear your ring. So c'mon mister trouble, we'll make it through you somehow. We'll fill this house with all the love, all that heaven will allow."
The song surprised me so much, because it is not one that is ordinarily played in a public place. I stopped what I was doing with the kids, and listened. Tears formed in my eyes, and Tony, noticing said, "Are you gonna cry, Mommy?" I smiled and said, "Yeah, probably." I told him that it was three years since Uncle Jeff died, and then I mentioned the song and sang a few of the lines.
"So you think Uncle Jeff put this song on for you?" Paige asked, eager for me to say yes.
I answered honestly that I didn't know.
I don't know if Jeff has that power. I don't know if some kid who was cooking in the back at Friendly's put together a mellow mix with all of his favorite artists in order to avoid the piped in Barry Manilow and Neil Diamond songs that often roll through the restaurant; I didn't know if us deciding to go to Friendly's at the last minute was part of some greater tapestry; and I didn't know if Springsteen wrote that song for that precise moment. I didn't know anything.
What I do know is that for the remainder of the day, I recognized the awesome moments - - - when I went to coach our final basketball game, and all the kids on my team ran toward me with high fives, and big smiles; when I handed out their trophies and recognized each of their unique talents that made our team a success; when the parents of these children thanked me, and one in particular said, "My son is going to really miss you. He talks about basketball every day, and about you all the time. You were amazing with him, and I thank you"; when I found Paige and Tony, head-to-toe covered in mud with a bucket of worms that they had dug up; when I tasted the macaroni salad that Paige had been begging me to make for the last two weeks and nearly swooned because it tasted so good; when I frosted the cake for Enzo's birthday (the little bastard turned two yesterday) and after singing to him, watched as he gobbled it in one bite; when, after the kids had bathed and showered and we sat together on the chair, I could smell the shampoo on their wet hair, and as I breathed it in, I found comfort.
By recognizing these moments, I found that though a piece of my soul was hurled up there with Jeff, there was also a remainder of it down here. And because of that, I could feel all that heaven will allow.
Today is sad. Today is the anniversary of a pretty shitty day.
Yet, I will recognize the offerings of love I've been afforded, and I will celebrate that I am still able to see them. I will celebrate that Jeff was and still is a great joy in my life.
I miss him every day, yet I know that one day, when heaven allows it, my soul will re-align and become whole again.
Yesterday was a busy day. The kids and I awoke early and found a web program that would allow them to create themselves as a Pokemon character. I have no idea what Pokemon is and why the cards are an obsession, but as Tony stood next to me with one hand on my shoulder as I typed in his "power" for agility and resistance, I didn't care. We picked his powers, we found a picture of his face from earlier in the year, and we created a card. He was overjoyed, and when he hugged me and thanked me with all his heart, I knew that heaven had allowed the moment.
Following our productive morning, we went to karate, where Paige performed a fourteen step routine, fought off a kid that was about a foot taller, and watched as she earned a higher belt. The smile on her face, the pride in my heart, and the offer of congratulations to her from her little brother were just events of another allowance.
To celebrate, and because it was lunch time, we went to Friendly's. As we sat there, we drew funny faces on a pad of paper - - - with crossed eyes, big nostrils, enormous ears and wayward hair - - -, I heard the notes of a Springsteen song playing softly on the speakers above. Like a dog, I cocked my head so that I could name the tune.
"Rain and storm and dark skies, well now they don't mean a thing if you got a girl that loves you, and who wants to wear your ring. So c'mon mister trouble, we'll make it through you somehow. We'll fill this house with all the love, all that heaven will allow."
The song surprised me so much, because it is not one that is ordinarily played in a public place. I stopped what I was doing with the kids, and listened. Tears formed in my eyes, and Tony, noticing said, "Are you gonna cry, Mommy?" I smiled and said, "Yeah, probably." I told him that it was three years since Uncle Jeff died, and then I mentioned the song and sang a few of the lines.
"So you think Uncle Jeff put this song on for you?" Paige asked, eager for me to say yes.
I answered honestly that I didn't know.
I don't know if Jeff has that power. I don't know if some kid who was cooking in the back at Friendly's put together a mellow mix with all of his favorite artists in order to avoid the piped in Barry Manilow and Neil Diamond songs that often roll through the restaurant; I didn't know if us deciding to go to Friendly's at the last minute was part of some greater tapestry; and I didn't know if Springsteen wrote that song for that precise moment. I didn't know anything.
What I do know is that for the remainder of the day, I recognized the awesome moments - - - when I went to coach our final basketball game, and all the kids on my team ran toward me with high fives, and big smiles; when I handed out their trophies and recognized each of their unique talents that made our team a success; when the parents of these children thanked me, and one in particular said, "My son is going to really miss you. He talks about basketball every day, and about you all the time. You were amazing with him, and I thank you"; when I found Paige and Tony, head-to-toe covered in mud with a bucket of worms that they had dug up; when I tasted the macaroni salad that Paige had been begging me to make for the last two weeks and nearly swooned because it tasted so good; when I frosted the cake for Enzo's birthday (the little bastard turned two yesterday) and after singing to him, watched as he gobbled it in one bite; when, after the kids had bathed and showered and we sat together on the chair, I could smell the shampoo on their wet hair, and as I breathed it in, I found comfort.
By recognizing these moments, I found that though a piece of my soul was hurled up there with Jeff, there was also a remainder of it down here. And because of that, I could feel all that heaven will allow.
Today is sad. Today is the anniversary of a pretty shitty day.
Yet, I will recognize the offerings of love I've been afforded, and I will celebrate that I am still able to see them. I will celebrate that Jeff was and still is a great joy in my life.
I miss him every day, yet I know that one day, when heaven allows it, my soul will re-align and become whole again.
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