The Month My Humor Died

I have always tried to pick out the lighter and joyful parts of life: making fun of the absurd, mocking the difficulties. It has been great fun sharing the humor in most of life's events. But forty-five days ago I lost all traces of levity. My twelve year old niece was diagnosed with leukemia.Within 3 days I was wrecked. I was devastated that her leukemia wasn't the usual, easily treatable kind. I was stunned that her type of cancer was a mish-mash of undifferentiated, unfamiliar, useless cells that filled her bone marrow with crap. She couldn't even make blood cells for herself anymore. I was devastated that her young life was forever changed.
As poison coursed through her veins in the form of chemotherapy I desperately asked myself what I could do for her to ease the fear and pain of this sudden change of reality. I only had one thing that no one else had: an escape mechanism that I use when I lose hope. Meditation. I have the ability to find my "happy place".
So for the first month I sat by her side, in her hospital prison, while six different medications were pumped into her body, killing her, healing her. I just talked to her softly and guided her away from her broken body and spirit. We defied gravity by flying, we ran a hundred miles without fatigue, we rested in perfect, green meadows as baby animals cuddled in our arms. We looked into a magical crystal and imagined our future.
To this day I don't know if I actually helped her, but I know for a certainty that I helped myself. I found a peace that constantly eludes me. My niece went home for a mini recovery for a few days, soon to return for another round of chemo. I will return to her bedside with images of hope, grace and peace, not only for her benefit but for mine as well.

Perspective

I have a simple life really, there are only a few things that I
need to be mindful of. Undoubtedly they all have to do with
Tanner. Everyday I make sure he is fed, bathed and changed.
I've had 15 years to make a habit of it all and there will be
many years to come.
The other day I came across a newborn sized diaper. It was
so cute and tiny. I visualized an infant bum, miniature legs, a
small and pink body. I picture changing the diaper of this
little baby, grasping both it's tiny legs in one hand, lifting
it's little bum gently, using one or two wipes and then rolling
the diaper into a fist sized lump.
Then I picture changing a strong 110 pound baby. It's
like the calf roping event at a rodeo. I wrestle Tanner
to the ground, immobilize him with all my limbs and
all my strength and then try to beat the clock. I only
have a limited amount of time before I lose the
contest: pin him down, lift, wipe, wipe, wipe, wipe
fasten velcro, release.




I did a bit of research about poo, just for perspective.
Supposedly the poo proportion per person is 1 oz. per
12 lbs. Therefore, a cute little 12 lbs baby gives us just
1 oz. of poo per day. Whereas, a cute, big 110 lbs boy
gives us.....9 oz. of poo per day or 300 lbs of poo per
year. 

The Best Things About Winter

JANUARY 2013

Living in Utah we have the pleasure of experiencing all
four seasons at their most extreme. Spring is very green
and beautiful. Summer is very hot and beautiful. Autumn is
very colorful and beautiful.... But winter is only beautiful
when there is a good amount of snow on the ground.
Without the snow, winter is brown and dead.

 2013's winter started out beautiful! Snow fell in quiet,
large flakes and covered the dead grass with 16 inches of
glistening powder. The neighborhood roads were snow
packed, kids were outside building sledding hills.

We took a walk in the winter wonderland until our ears
were frozen. Tanner watched his feet as he made tracks
in the snow, Hailey was intent on making her mark too
by wading through the untouched snow banks. I think we
walked for a good 15 minutes before Tanner begged to go
back inside. He kept touching his ears wondering why
they hurt.

Once inside Hailey made a nice wood fire and lit some candles.
Then we all grabbed a blanket, sat on the couch and watched
reruns of Downton Abbey. To us, winter doesn't get any better
than this.

The Day After Christmas

GOODBYE SNIFFLES

Sniffles was a good guinea pig. He was a happy guinea pig.
We had sniffles for six years and there wasn't a day when Hailey
didn't pick him up and play with him. Hailey learned his language.
She could tell his mood by the tone of his squeaks. I thought that
Sniffles was a funny guinea pig. He would squeak every time I
opened the fridge and he squeaked extra loud when he heard the
potato peeler rattle. We gave him lots of peelings. His favorite
was pear. Sniffles was also a loud guinea pig. He rattled his cage
with his teeth and chewed on his water bottle. He squeaked when
anyone came near his cage. He loved attention.Lately it has been
extra quiet and it makes us sad.



Dave made a little box for Sniffle"s little body

Hailey wrote a card with all her feelings on it

Dave dug a deep grave under the pear tree

 Sniffles was a great pet. We will miss him

It's My Birthday and I'll Sleep If I Want To!

Happy 15th Birthday, Tanner



We held a party for him, we brought presents to him, we had
cake and SHRIMP! There was laughter and music and family
chaos. Still, he shunned us in the rudest way.
Once, he woke up, looked around and dramatically laid his head
back as if to say "what are all you people doing in my house?
can't you see I'm not in the mood?"
Of course we just ignored him. He doesn't have to know that
his birthday is just an excuse for the family to get together and
eat.

Scuba Bonaire 2012

7 Days, 7600 Photo Opportunities

This is the year Hailey becomes officially Scuba Certified.
It is unfortunate however that she learned to dive in the most
beautiful environment in the world. Nothing will ever be as
good as this! It is also the vacation where Dave broke his
record on how many pictures taken in seven days.After he
gets out of "trigger finger" rehab and goes through the twelve
step program for "excessive photographing anonymous", he
will possibly get his life back (although I foresee a relapse if
we go anywhere else beautiful). Anyway, our days consisted
of six very important steps:
----loading the pick-up truck with scuba gear
---strapping the gear on our bodies
---walking into the warm southern Caribbean water
---scuba diving
---eating
---sleeping

STEP 1:  LOAD THE GEAR...each person needs 2 air tanks,
BC jacket, regulator to breath through,-----10 pounds of weights
to help us sink, a wet suit , booties, fins, mask.

Step 2: DRIVE THE TRUCK TO DESIRED DIVE SITE...
pick a name out of the dive guide,
....drive a couple of miles and look for a yellow painted
boulder at the side of the road with the aforementioned
name on it and pull over.

Step 3: FASTEN 80 POUNDS OF DIVE GEAR TO YOUR BODY...
then walk gingerly, carefully into the rocky, shifting surf. After waist
deep then relax in the 85 degree water.

Step 4: DIVE, DIVE, DIVE

Step 5: EAT...an unfortunate necessity
Step 6: SLEEP...another unfortunate necessity

WE WILL BE BACK TO BONAIRE.....BECAUSE...

 
 DAVE LEFT HIS BRAIN BEHIND...


***NOT PICTURED
---1000 pictures of flamingos
---1000 pictures of sunsets
---1000 pictures of a turtle
---1000 pictures of an angel fish
---1000 pictures of sail boats
---1000 pictures of coral
---1000 pictures of divers

Family and Funerals

 We knew she was dying. We knew he would grieve tremendously. The last month with them together was an experience I will never forget.


Grandma didn't want hospice care, she wanted family. And family is exactly what she got. Family was with her even after her spirit left her body. We cared for her by taking turns, two siblings at a time, keeping watch over her, talking to her, remembering with her. My time with my grandma was peaceful because she was ready.
Seeing my Grandpa leaning over her bed broke my heart. The way he held her hand, the way he talked to her (how he has always treated her) was the most difficult, emotionally wrenching thing I've witnessed so far in my life. He will be so lost without his true love.



I was fortunate enough to say a few things at the funeral.I hope I honored her enough.

For the most part this solemn occasion brought me enough joy that I won't think of grandma's funeral as an episode of despair. This event brought family together from all over the country. Cousins, aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews whom I haven't seen in a long, long time, greeted me with warmth and affection. Death isn't always tragic, this time it was healing.

As I wrote my thoughts about my grandma the words flowed freely:

"She died on a Saturday morning, my grandma, my role model. Helen Holt, my grandma taught me how to love life. Her love for life was so full and contagious and exciting. She bubbled over with enthusiasm every time we were together. It was as if her only goal was to have fun. Visits with grandma were never obligatory, they were greatly anticipated.

I remember my childhood summers as epic adventures. Mineral King trips were legendary, the jewel of my early memories. Imagine Ken and Helen, my grandparents; imagine the feat, the responsibility of taking ten or so grandchildren deep into the beautiful mountains of the Sierras. They loved us so much that they took us there year after year after year.

As children, grandma set us free. For two weeks we were surrounded by a spirit of love and affection and perfect acceptance. I remember fishing shoulder to shoulder with my cousins, grandpa constantly untangling our lines, grandma along side us teaching us how to cast. I remember the secret fishing holes, the huge redwood trees, the cabin. I remember the anticipation of seeing Sawtooth Peak, of climbing around the huge boulders in search of bears. Those were some of the most happiest, most innocent memories of my life. I believe these memories are so exquisite to this day simply because when I was with her I felt loved, I felt safe and I felt important.

Even as I grew into my teens grandma was a key figure in my self acceptance. To my delight she was playfully rebellious. She bought me my first bikini and had my ears pierced when I was much to young, to the chagrin of my mother. She took me shopping for school clothes and when I couldn't decide between two outfits, she would declare, "just get them both". I never felt that grandma was obligated to me because I was her granddaughter. All I ever felt was pure joy on her part and pure trust on mine.

I lost her some years ago, when I lost myself (as most selfish people do). I lost her to my own personal trivialities (my career,my busy life, my stuff) When stupid things in life overshadow the importance of family ties it is truly a tragedy. I found her once again as she was dying. At that time my insignificant self pity gave way to the thoughts and accomplishments of a most extraordinary woman.

DEATH PICKS UP EACH GOOD SOUL AND KISSES IT
DEATH LISTENS TO YOUR LAST BREATH, WATCHES YOUR VISIONS OF LOVED ONES
---AND DEATH FREES YOU FROM FEAR
LASTLY GOD BLESSES AND KEEPS YOU

I LOVE YOU GRANDMA