Farewell Franklin

Franklin,

I am following a good friend’s advice and writing to you in hopes it will help me heal.

Today, you are a bastard.  I hate that I allowed you to lead me to think that Jewel was the demise of your marriage.  Not that you told me, but I wasn’t smart enough to consider that Jewel had a side in this story.  She and I have become friends and I am thankful for that.  She loved you very much.  She still loves you.  She’ll never forget the love she has for you.  You didn’t bother to tell me that you sought her strength and heart when you and Olivia were having issues.  Nor did you tell me you gave her comfort when she and her husband were having problems.  A great deal of comfort.

It has occurred to me that you aren’t mine to mourn.  There are so many people who knew you much longer than me.  I too have discovered you have this profound effect on women.  All women that you encountered.  We all love you in some form or another.   None of us can place the exact emotion.  But we all share it.

When you died, I was viscerally gutted.  My heart was gone.  My soul wept for you.  Seeing you lying in the hospital bed, so ill, all I could think of was crawling into the bed next to you and holding you, willing you to get better.  I was compelled to kiss you on your forehead, to tell you I love you as much as I could.  I didn’t for fear someone would walk into the room.  And now I can’t.  So I go to visit your ashes at the cemetery, which is a nice resting place by the way.  I am impressed with your folks’ stone.  You did well by them.  I see Kenneth Franklin Garrett’s stone.  Your namesake I presume.  I meant to ask Jewel about him.  No stone for you.  Why is that?  A plaque from the American Legion is what you get.  Was that planned?  It is however a nice touch.  So back to the cemetery.  I lay down next to the bare spot where your ashes are buried.  I sob.  I wail.  I wonder if the people in the car driving by think I’m maniacal.  I scream at your ashes.  I yell at the top of my lungs how pissed at you I am.  How Jack is pissed at you.  How dare you leave us!  And then I find myself exhausted.  I can barely rise from the ground because my anguish is so great. 

For nearly 3 weeks I didn’t care if I lived or died.  I can’t say I was seeking death in a suicidal manner, yet I wasn’t seeking life.  All the while, knowing you would kick my ass for being so forlorn.  It is now over a month since you died.  Today was a better day.  After talking to Jewel, I could get mad at you. 

I have begged you to send me a sign, showing me that you are ok and at peace.  You still haven’t unless you are sending me something I don’t recognize.  I should be asking God to give me a sign since you aren’t listening.  Maybe you just aren’t in the mood.  Maybe it is like everything else in your life, you will do it when you are damn good and ready.  Please be ready soon. 

Lastly for today, I am forever changed by you and our friendship.  It transcended anything I’ve ever experienced with a man.  There was no sex, no nakedness, yet you gave me so much intimacy.  That I told you at least…forever I will miss you.  Forever, I will love you.

Mothering, not smothering

I am thankful God gave me two children to mother.  Mothering my children, from infancy to adulthood has been the most rewarding gift.  I have enjoyed every phase of their lives, some more than others.  I support the birth order theory, however, as it turns out, both of my children are leaders.  From a young age, they were allowed to make what I may not have thought to be the best choice, to experience life lessons.  Because of those life lessons, the foundation upon which they are building their careers, their decisions are based on wise choices.  That isn't to say, some of those choices may be creative and on the curve, however, children learn from mothering, not smothering.

Fat, Fair and 48

Traipsing through memory lane, is it not typical to memorialize our successes and contributions to our family?  Focusing on motherhood, it has been both my greatest reward and perhaps my greatest blunder.  We have raised two remarkable children,  preparing them for life's ups and downs with all the tools we could muster, yet failing them in probably one of the most important daily balances- food.  Having always been overweight, it never occurred to me that I was perpetuating a life of obesity for them as well.  Growing up in the "clean your plate" era of no food wasted, I still find myself doing just that and trained them to do the same.  At 48 years old and 281.6 pounds, I have to gain control of my appetite and my health.  I begin today, this day of Thanksgiving.  With God's grace, I will turn this around.  I can redeem this shortcoming with my children and by example, become Fit and 48.