Well, as usual, I am a little late with my blog follow-up.  But I thought I would give a little report on the quick trip to Kauai that Sweetie and I took a while ago.  Remember......way back when.....we went to Kauai. 

We jumped on a plane to go visit Sweetie's sister and her boyfriend (J & D).  Since we were there mostly to spend time with them, we didn't travel around too much.  Our trip was limited to the northern and central portions of Kauai.  We landed on the Garden Isle in Lihue.  J & D picked us up at the airport and we drove up to the top of the island around Princeville. 

As we pulled up to the condo, D’s family was packing into the other car to head to the beach.  Sweetie and I ran inside, changed into our swimsuits and jumped back into the car.  We drove to a nearby beach and relaxed in the sun for a couple of hours.  (if you are looking at this blog around the time I'm posting it, my current background picture is from this first beach we visted.)  Headed back to the house where D’s family was hosting a BBQ next to the pool.  Food and more sun.  Good day.  We sat around trying to decide on an activity for the next day.  D’s family was already planning a dive for later in the week. What should we do together?   Hiking?  Zip line? Water tubing? 

We decided on water tubing.  There is a company on the island called Kauai Backcountry Adventures.  They offer ziplining and tubing.  They are the only company that has access to the former Lihue Plantation on the island, and its old system of ditches and tunnels.  They drive you up the hill and dump you off, with guides, into the old water ditches where you ride down. 

I have to say – overall it was a good choice.  We did get to see some sights on Kauai that many people would not see because we were traveling across private land.  They stopped the vehicles a couple of times so we could get out and see the mountains, including a view of Mount Wai’ale’ale, which is often touted as being the rainiest spot on earth.  It can get rain over 300 days a year, totaling up to, or more than, 460 inches.  That’s a lot of rain. 

Back to the tour.  The guides on the tour were a little cheesy-over-the-top actors (literally actors, our guy was telling us how he is in the latest movie filmed on Kauai, Tropic Thunder).  But they were occasionally funny.  The tube ride itself provided some great scenery.  It was slow.  This is not a death-defying whitewater adventure.  Going through the tunnels was pretty cool.  We had headlamps that we had to turn on and off through most of the tunnels.  During one tunnel trip, our guide yelled at us to keep the headlight off.  I’m glad she did.  It was quite a trip whizzing down the tunnel in almost utter blackness.  The trip includes lunch at the end of the trip.  Good lunch.  Though the website describes it as an “enchanted picnic area.”  If they mean enchanted with magical mosquitoes, then yes……enchanted.  It was a picnic spot with a couple porta potties, benches, and a pool of water that was nice to look at, but I don’t think I would have jumped in if you asked me to.

The only bummer is the same complaint you’ll get with a lot of things here in Hawai’i.  I thought it was a little too expensive for the experience.  It was fun, but I don’t know if it was $100 worth of fun, you know?  If you want to check it out, check out the website at http://www.kauaibackcountry.com/tubing.html.  The site also has a page for the zip line tours.   

During our trip, we also spent an afternoon over at Tunnels Beach.   Wow.  Nice.  Really really nice.  I would love to go back to this beach.  The snorkeling was FANTASTIC.  We sat on the beach and D’s family had brought a couple sets of snorkeling gear.  I was just enjoying the sun and the warm water.  But they asked me if I wanted to go out with the gear, so I said “ok.”  Thank goodness I did!  The beach has a long shallow area with lots of coral spots.  I swam around and saw more fish, and more different kinds of fish, than I saw in the last two PAID snorkeling trips I took in Maui.  The beach itself is gorgeous.  The snorkeling is first rate.  Nice place.  On the way back to the condo, we stopped at a restaurant for drinks.  I think this is the Kauai restaurant owned by Charo.  Cuchi cuchi.  Yes.  That Charo.  Don’t know if that is still true, but the service was pretty nice and we enjoyed some local live Hawaiian music while we drank and enjoyed some yummy pupus. 

The rest of the time was spent walking and sitting and talking and enjoying the good company.  It was a short trip for us, but I am glad Sweetie and I had more time to spend with J & D.  I am especially glad I got to spend a longer chunk of time with my sister-in-law.  Again, I acknowledge I am very lucky to have such great in-laws that I get along with so well.  I mean really get along with.  Like - his aunt says things to me like "I'm so glad you are a part of this family."  Or........I will call Sweetie's mom every so often just to check in and chat with her.  Because I want to.  Who does *that* with her mother-in-law??  Sweetie’s sister is a beautiful, bright woman.  She has a wealth of life experiences from traveling and dancing.  She has the same love of cats that my husband exudes.  She is only a year younger than me, but obviously has years of experience over me on living with this man of mine.  Since she lives in Las Vegas, I’ve only spent a little time with her before Sweetie and I were married – and then around Christmas where there are 15 other family members milling around and not a lot of time to just sit and talk.  We had an opportunity to do that during the Kauai trip, and I value that experience more than all the sights and wonders of Kauai.  Although – getting to be on Kauai is pretty sweet. 

That was the gist of our trip.  As I said before, of the main Hawaiian islands, I have The Big Island left to visit.  I'd also like to hop over to Lanai at some point.  I’m sure I’ll manage to get over there someday.

It is 1:20 a.m. and I should be asleep.

I should be asleep, but I am sad.

I read THIS yesterday, and it made me sad.  Hurt-to-my-bones sad. 

I watched THIS tonight on the NBC nightly news, and it made me sad. It made me remember almost every moment of my father's own cancer diagnosis and death.  And it made me remember good things along with the bad things.  But it made me sad.  Crying sad.

I barely had a few minutes to talk to my husband today because he is on Oahu working.  And he had time to work from dawn to dusk and have dinner and beer, but only a brief moment to talk to me.  And I really do appreciate that he called me earlier in the day for a quick "I love you."  And I know he is tired at the end of the day, but it made me sad.  Frustratingly sad. 

I hear that Hawaiian Airlines raised their fees on all their flights again, and it made me sad.  Annoyingly sad. 

I can't even think of a good song I'd like to include in my blog to express how I feel.  How sad.  I suppose all I can do is go to sleep and greet tomorrow with a better attitude than I have right now.  Because, ya know - it's too late for me to start watching Moonlight and Valentino.

Except, this is still one of the best songs ever written, and I love it when I am sad so I'll throw it in another blog here:

When last we met, I was road-tripping through Oregon with my cousin on the way to her new home. 

To backtrack a minute, let's go back to Seattle.  We really didn't have too much time for sightseeing.  This was ok by me because the main point of my trip was to help out, and spend time with my cousin.  But of all the Seattle sights I saw (by the way - I realize I sometimes spell sight as "site".  This is a casualty of the technical writing that I do.  Too many "sites" in my work.) - the one I would most recommend in Seattle is the Pike Place Market.  The Seattle Center seems to be just a shadow of what it once was.  But the Market is still a vibrant part of the Seattle scene.  If you enjoy people-watching (which I do), it is a must.  Plus, did I mention the yummy knishes?? 

So, here we are in Oregon.  We had sunny weather for the drive and amused ourselves by trying to name as many U.S. Presidents as possible.  I also quizzed my cousin on her State capitols.  We arrived in Ashland in the late afternoon. 

If you have never been to Ashland, you may not know it is a picturesque little town near the California/Oregon border at the southern end of the Rogue Valley.  It is perhaps best known as the home of the Oregon Shakespeare Festival.  I didn't have too much time to spend in Oregon because I needed to start my own drive back to California.  But the Medford/Ashland area of Oregon is a lovely little spot of geography.

After one more night, I rented a car and started my way south to Sacramento.  It was a quick easy drive straight down Interstate 5.  I only stopped once for a quick fast-food lunch.  I did manage to take a picture of Mt. Shasta as I was driving:

And, that was the end of the main part of this road trip.  Sweetie flew in a few days later and we attended the fabulous wedding of an old co-worker of mine.  This was a perfect time for me to see many good friends as not less than 30 of my old co-workers (and their significant others) were at the wedding, counting the groom and his new wife.  Someday, I'll spend more time talking about the special dynamics of my old office, but suffice it to say - the reason I put up with years of hectic deadlines, cranky clients, late nights, and stress-filled days was the great group of people I got to work with every day.  It was great to see so many of them, even if I barely had time to talk to most of them (wow - just like my own wedding!).  

Our trip in California also included two trips to San Francisco.  During one visit with our good friend, Sweetie and I were introduced to the BEST ice cream I've ever had.  No, really.  This was the best.  Our good friend drove us to Bi-Rite Creamery on 18th Street in San Francisco, and I got to try honey lavender ice cream, and malted vanilla ice cream with peanut brittle.  I settled on salted caramel.  It was fantastic.  Check our their website and, if you are ever anywhere near that area, it is worth a side trip to check it out.  mmmmmm 

So, I am at the end of this latest Mainland trip.  We are visiting with Sweetie's mom and will soon head back to Maui.

Way back at the beginning of this adventure, I flew into Seattle to see my cousin M.  She was planning a move from Seattle to Oregon, and I offered to help.  She said yes.  I flew in and helped her pack and clean her three-bedroom apartment.  In between the packing, we were able to see a few sites in the area. 

We drove to see the Hiram M. C

The locks provide a link for boats between the saltwater of the Puget Sound and the fresh water of the Ship Canal connecting to Lake Union and Lake Washington.

Stop by the fish ladder, built to allow salmon to pass between fresh and salt water. Glass panels make it possible to view the fish as they navigate their way through the ladder, adjusting to different levels of salt each step of the way.

My cousin and I went back home and packed some more.  The next day, we took advantage of another sunny Seattle day and headed downtown.  We stopped at Pike Place Market, where I had the YUMMIEST mushroom knish at the "I Love New York Deli."  Wow.  That was good.  I've always liked knishes, but I don't know if I can eat the wanna-bes I've been partaking of anymore.  That was the best! 

We wandered past the fish stall.  There was not too much fish-tossing going on while we walked around.  But there were plenty of other colorful characters around.  We went to the Seattle Center, but neither one of us wanted to pay to go up the Space Needle so we just walked around and enjoyed the nearby park and fountain. 

We spent the rest of the time packing and, on the day of the move, lots of cleaning.  It was a bit of a mad scramble at the end, but we managed to clear the place out for her walk-through.  I sat in the car in the parking lot trying to figure out how we would drive to Oregon with a car so packed to the gills we couldn't see out the back window.  Luckily, our first trip the next morning was to the UPS store where M. mailed two big boxes to her new home address. With clear windows, we said goodbye to Seattle and started down the path to her new home. 

By the way, we stayed at three different hotels during our trip.  If you want a quick review:

Extended Stay America - Not so great.  Service was nice and it was nice to have a sink/kitchenette. But the walls were thin enough I could hear the words of the late-night conversation next to us.  The blankets were a little threadbare.  Literally.  I kept getting my fingers caught on the threads that were coming apart.

Phoenix Inn and Suites in Oregon - Very nice.  Good service and a large room with down comforters on the beds.  The walls were a little thicker and I slept pretty soundly that night.  We got a great recommendation for dinner, and we were a little off the freeway (no freeway noise=good!).

Finally - the Windmill Inn.  Pretty nice.  It was a huge suite with doors between the bedroom and sitting area, with TVs in each area.  A small kitchen sink with microwave.  Nothing too exciting, but not horrible either.

We drove through Salem Oregon where we jumped out of the car to take pictures around the Capitol building.  We didn't stay too long as there is not much to see.  But, again, we lucked out with some sunny weather.

For Dad -

I'm doing some research while working on my NaNoWriMo novel (novella, story, memoir, what have you). 

My father told me, before he died, that he was going to embrace the moon.  Like Chinese poet Li Po (aka Li Bai).  For Li Po, and for my father - to embrace the moon is to die. 

I had heard the story of Li Po from my father, but I had never read the poem.  Apparently, there are many translations of "Drinking Alone in the Moonlight."  Thanks to this good site, I have been able to read several.

Here is one, which I dedicate to Dad.  I hope you all had a warm and wonderful Thanksgiving yesterday - hopefully, with good family and loved ones to share.

Drinking Alone Under the Moon

by Li Po (701-762)

Alone among the flowers with a jug of wine,
Without a single friend to drink with me,
I lift my glass and invite the bright moon to come
Join in—now the moon, my shadow and I make three.

I know the moon is not a famous drinker,
My shadow's toast no more than mimicry,
And yet for a little while the three of us
Carouse in springtime camaraderie.

I sing, and the moon sways to and fro in rhythm;
I dance, and my shadow floats in harmony.
Drinking, we share our joys with one another;
After, we'll need to find them separately.

Let's meet again, at the end of the Silver River,
And there, my friends, resume our revelry!

Wahhhh!

My family is gone.  Big Sis, Big Bro, and Nephew #1 and Nephew #2 (as my Sweetie likes to call them to make them giggle) have flown away.  They had a GREAT visit, spent lots of time at the beach, and we all spent lots of good meals together and enjoyed each others' company.  And now they are gone.  Boo hoo.  I was looking sad on Tuesday night, and my Sweetie asked me why.  I said "I am going to miss my sister!"  And he laughed at me because - truth is - I will see her next week!  We are flying back to the mainland for Thanksgiving, and he thought I was hilarious for missing her for a few days.

But see - here's the thing.  I can go for weeks without seeing my friends and.....maybe my family.....without feeling melancholy.  Sure, I miss them.  But we can talk on the phone, e-mail, blog, write letters, send pictures, and all that good stuff.  And we do.  And it helps me feel connected to everyone.  And that's great.  BUT - sometimes, the worst feeling for me is right after they leave my home.  Or I leave their home.  Because - we were just together.  We were having a great time, and I am able to relax and enjoy their company.  And then "Bam!" everyone is gone and......that happy relaxed feeling.....I can almost feel it.....almost....sort of....but ......ohhhhh....not quite!  Because they are gone.  Does that make sense?  

When we haven't seen each other for a while, I kind of get used to the long-distance communication.  But when my loved ones were so recently here  - and then they are gone, I miss them terribly.  I call it the "just-after-you-leave feeling." 

So, yes, I will see them again in a week. But for today - wah!

I talked to my mom on the phone a little bit last night.  Besides being the anniversary of the attack on Pearl Harbor, it was also the anniversary of my parents’ wedding day.  It was Mom’s first anniversary since Dad’s death in June.  We talked a little bit and she held up quite well until the end of our conversation when I said “I love you Mom.”  Then, she started to cry, and I started to cry, and we both released some good tears and pent-up sadness. 

Not that mine is really pent up.  I still cry on a regular basis when I think about my father and the difficult last few weeks of his life.  Or I cry thinking about wonderful memories that we shared together.  Heck, my sweetie and I were driving around a while ago and, when I heard one old-timey song that Dad used to sing to me, I promptly burst into tears in the middle of our conversation.  I’m not the repressor of emotions I used to be.

As I watched the news coverage of the Pearl Harbor ceremonies, I also thought about how Dad’s death was yet one more loss of a WWII veteran.  Here in Hawaii, the day’s events are pretty significant and get a lot of respect and coverage.  But many of the men who attended the ceremonies who were military survivors of the attack on December 7, 1941 stated this may be their last visit to the site.  They mentioned how old they are getting, and how the trip gets more difficult every year.  Organizers remarked how the make-up of attendance has changed.  How the men used to come by themselves, but now they come accompanied by many family members.  But many of them still do not talk much about the attack, or their subsequent service in the war.  I’ve written before about the loss of these past soldiers.  My father rarely talked about his service, but it was something he was immensely proud of.  After he was diagnosed last August, I went to a book store, bought a large map of the world, grabbed some pens, drove to Mom and Dad’s house, and told my father “Right.  Now show me everywhere you went when you were in the Navy in World War II.”  And, thank my stars, he did.  Almost two entire trips around the world, and stops on almost every continent.  He didn’t elaborate too much on what went on in between all the ports of call.  But at least I now have a little piece of my father’s history in a notebook and an ink-stained map.  I think it meant something to him that I know it.  It certainly means a lot to me.

Yahoo’s blog topic of the day is “What is your favorite holiday tradition?”

That’s a tough one to answer.

My family didn’t have many grand Christmas traditions, other than the standard fare. We decorate, hang stockings, get a tree, put presents under it, open them on Christmas, and eat lots of food. When I was younger, we would occasionally go to a tree lot with fresh trees. The kind of place where you jump on a sleigh (freezing all the way), find your perfect tree, find someone to cut it, and ho ho ho all the way back home. Sometimes we would spend the day at my Aunt and uncle’s house with the extended family - aunts, uncles, cousins, cousins’ kids. For years, we have continued to leave cookies and an apple by the fireplace, if for no other reason than to chortle over the “Bah Humbug!” scripted on our note, somehow, mysteriously, by Christmas morning. I also still love our family tradition of opening one present on Christmas Eve. Who can resist a gift-bonanza sneak peak?!

I enjoy the simple things the most. My mother has a small nativity scene she sets up every year. One Mary, one Joseph, and one Jesus in a small crib. Hand-crafted from wood, with no decoration, I loved these pieces growing up. Mom augments it with some fresh pine cuttings, a couple of angels, and one of my small wolf figurines. Can’t remember when she started using him, but I love the idea that my noble wolf is watching over the young family.

In the spirit of historical accuracy, baby Jesus’ crib stays empty until Christmas Eve. Years ago, I asked my mom if I could place baby Jesus in his crib and she said yes. Since then, I have looked forward to a quiet moment on Christmas Eve when I take baby Jesus from his tissue wrap in a drawer. I unwrap him and place him in his small crib. I look at the small babe, Joseph standing straight and strong, and Mary with her hands clasped and her head slightly bent in a manner of prayer. It is a perfect moment for me to think, to reflect on my past year, and to pray my thank-yous for all the good things in my life. A small tradition, but a meaningful one for me.

I think that, sometimes, I become too attached to things. Things, such as ideas that I have. And things, such as physical objects. How do I know the second is true?

I have a house-full of "stuff" in Maui, half a room-full of "stuff" at my mom's, and an entire rented storage container of "stuff" waiting for me (plus one couch that my future MIL (mom-in-law) is holding for me). Yeah....it's hard for me to let go of stuff.

The Dalai Lama, on his own website, says the following about attachment:

According to Buddhist psychology, most of our troubles are due to our passionate desire for and attachment to things that we misapprehend as enduring entities. The pursuit of the objects of our desire and attachment involves the use of aggression and competitiveness as supposedly efficacious instruments.

The Dalai Lama talks about attachment quite a bit. I should think about it more myself. I think too much attachment to stuff, including my own brain-full of notions, is sometimes detrimental.

Why do I think about this now? My nephews were playing in my mom's house tonight before dinner and broke one of Mom's Hummels. Now, I know what you're thinking, but my mom is not one of those people that has dozens of Hummels lined up on every inch of flat surface in her house. She only has a small handful, and two of them were from her mother. It was one of those moments where I could see it happening across the room and knew there was no way I could leap across a table, two chairs, and a piano bench in time to stop it.

It was a sad thing. But you know, I think I was more upset about it than Mom was. Maybe because of her typical low-key reaction to things. Maybe because, as she said later, "There's nothing you can do about it." And maybe because Mom just doesn't get as attached to "stuff" as I do.

My nephews were upset also. But what happened was truly an accident, and they weren't really playing in a manner that is not allowable in the house. It was just an accident. And here's where a good example came in. My Big Sis handled it like a pro. Which, hey, I think she is. She's been a mom long enough to know when something bad is an accident versus when she needs to really get to the bottom of what her kids are doing. Despite having something hot on the stove, and having me sitting on the floor lamenting the headless Hummel, she handled the situation calmly and finished making dinner. She knew the boys understood something wrong had happened - there was nothing she could add to that feeling. And she knew nothing had happened out of ill intent. She didn't lash out at the boys, or even at me for sitting on the floor like a lump. Our mom didn't lash out at anybody or even ask who was responsible or how it happened. She just said "Well, let's glue it back together."  And I think both moms were very Dalai-Lama-like tonight by their patience, calm, and compassion. The moment of stunned silence around the broken figurine probably gave my sister enough time to say a prayer to help her. A few extra moments gave me enough time to try and re-engage my oldest nephew who still looked crestfallen about the whole thing. I wish I had been able to gather myself as quickly as my Big Sis did (although she did scald herself cooking, so maybe she wasn't as composed as she looked). But, I'm trying.

Tonight, Mom and I watched the news about a big fire up near Lake Tahoe. By 11:00 p.m., over 150 homes had been destroyed in this fire. I thought how much worse that would feel than just losing one family keepsake. But then I thought about how miserable I would feel if my own home were completely destroyed. While I don't think I'd be too off the mark to be sad about something like that, I still need to learn more about letting go of some of my attachments. I won't even get into the problems that come about because I've become too attached to an idea in my head. It's generated more arguments (many with my patient Sweetie) than I can count. And it often comes down to, I need to let things go sometimes. Hopefully, with more study, lots more prayer, and more good examples in my life, I can improve on that. Maybe. Someday?

My mom picked out a fountain today for her backyard. She had been shopping around with Big Sis for one for a long while. She saw some she liked. She could not decide. They went back out this morning but did not buy one. They came home, and Mom asked me if I would go with her to one other place where she had seen a fountain she liked. So Mom, Youngest Nephew, and I drove Big Sis' truck out to look at fountains. Mom made a decision! They loaded the 300+ pound thing into the back of the truck. Big Bro and I got most of it set up in the yard. We had to wait for Big Sis to come back to house to lug the last piece in place.

And Voila! Mom has a fountain. The Nephews had fun playing around with it. Mom found an old basket of sea shells that my sister and I had collected/bought many many years ago. The Nephews had fun placing them all over the fountain, changing the flow and sound a little bit.

Mom bought this fountain for Dad. It's not just from her. Several of her family members, instead of buying flowers for the funeral last year, gave her money to get a memorial-type fountain for Dad for the yard. We all thought it was something Dad would like. And it's more permanent that flowers. And here it sits. Almost exactly one year after Dad died. I like that it's kind of modern looking, but still has a natural look to it. The patterns look almost like bamboo. Mom likes that it makes a decently loud sloooshing noise as the water flows down. Dad may think it's a little big, but I think he would like it.

There's lots I can say about last year. For now, I'll show you the fountain. And think about Dad.

Happy Mom's Day to all you awesome Moms out there.

Most especially special wishes go to MY MOM! She always supports me, is somewhat psychic in her ability to understand what is going on with me (and when I am about to call her), works harder than most employed people I know, is super sweet, and basically all-out rocks!

Have a great day everyone!

You Are Somewhat Like Your Mom

Believe it or not, you and your mom are pretty darn similar. It may not seem like it at times, but you and your mom have a lot of common ground. Over time, you'll probably get closer ... especially if you emphasize the things you like about each other.

Saturday in Maui. A little windy and warm. A sugar cane field in the valley is burning, and the wind pushes the smoke all the way down the isthmus and out to sea. The ocean is blue in multiple hues.

I see a butterfly pass in front of my car this morning, and I think , “Happy birthday Papa.” I will celebrate today because my father is still with me, even if he is not *here.* He is with me in my memories, both good and bad, and in the person that I am today (both good and bad). My family has been through almost a year of Firsts without him. First Thanksgiving, first Christmas, now his birthday. There are still moments when I think about this time last year, and my eyes get that faraway look. My Sweetie looks at me and asks “What are you thinking about?”

What am I thinking about? I’ll leave most of that for another entry, I think. For now, I’ll give my mom a call and see how her day at work went.

Saturday in Maui. A little windy and warm. A sugar cane field in the valley is burning, and the wind pushes the smoke all the way down the isthmus and out to sea. The ocean is blue in multiple hues.

I see a butterfly pass in front of my car this morning, and I think , “Happy birthday Papa.” I will celebrate today because my father is still with me, even if he is not *here.* He is with me in my memories, both good and bad, and in the person that I am today (both good and bad). My family has been through almost a year of Firsts without him. First Thanksgiving, first Christmas, now his birthday. There are still moments when I think about this time last year, and my eyes get that faraway look. My Sweetie looks at me and asks “What are you thinking about?”

What am I thinking about? I’ll leave most of that for another entry, I think. For now, I’ll give my mom a call and see how her day at work went.

I attended my aunt's funeral today. I went alone to the wake service yesterday. My uncle passed away several years ago, and he and my aunt had three children. Yesterday, I sat with two of my three cousins. Today, Mom, Big Sis, my Sweetie, and I drove to the Bay Area for another service and the burial. It was a good service, and we shared lunch with my family and family friends afterwards. It was slightly chilly this morning, and we arrived at the funeral home early. My sister and I walked a few blocks to look for a flower shop. The burial was at the same cemetery that my father is at, and we wanted to take some flowers to him (and the rest of the aunts and uncles). Seems you can find most anything you want within a three-block area in San Francisco.

I have a bunch of thoughts running around my brain, but none are forming full trains right now. I am hoping that I can speak more to my cousins this week, to really get an idea of how they are doing. To talk about some things you can't talk about in the middle of memorial services, for fear of sending each other into fits of tears. Not that I had anything specific to say or ask. But it's been less than a year since my father's death, and I remember the feeling of holding a mental dam in place while we got through all the funeral details. Of course, we cried. Of course, we laughed as we remembered good things about Dad. But the gut-heaving, clothes-soaking, crazy cry is not something you want to share with the polite old-time friend who just came to pay respects and give you a pat on the back. In fact, it’s not something I can easily share with anyone. I cried a ton with Big Sis. I cried a ton with my Sweetie. But the worst of the worst? The cry where I screamed a little, fell to the ground, curled up in a little ball, and wailed? I did that alone. Because, really, what can you do or say to anyone in that situation? There wasn’t anything anyone could do. I knew that my loved ones loved me. I knew I needed a good fat cry. It was natural, and it was ok. But it probably looked frightening.

I think most people, even the people closest to us, are slightly uncomfortable in such a situation. Perhaps it is because of our innate need to *fix* things. Or to help people we care about. And even if we know that all that person needs is a good cry, there is still a tingle of discomfort to be the one to witness it. Because you want to say something soothing. Or helpful. And you want to help relieve the other person’s pain. Or you just want the upwelling of emotion to cease. It’s human nature. Even though I’ve been through my own grief, I don’t know that I’m any better at witnessing someone else’s. But if my family can stand my potentially awkward support, I want them to know they can have it. And I appreciate support from the people around me, even if I don’t ask for more, or say more than Thank You.

And with that, I’ll take my thoughts back in for another day or two. Happy Tuesday (almost).

It is Christmas Eve day, and I have settled back in at Mom’s house. My sweetie and I parted ways as he, his mom, and his grandfather fly off to stay with his sister for Christmas day. I wrapped the last of my presents and am looking forward to Christmas Eve dinner. Cheese fondue! Yuummmmmmm. All I can say is - Thank goodness someone invented Lactaid. It’s hard enough having to watch out for milk content in everything I eat - if I had to give it up altogether, I’d be one sad Stone Gal. Thanks to the miracle of that little Lactaid pill, I can munch on ice cream, pizza, fondue, and the ever-important Cheez-its with little fear of stomach retaliation.

The family will be here tonight and tomorrow. There will be much eating, gift opening, and enjoyment of new things, I am sure. Dad’s absence this Christmas hits me at odd times. While driving my car. When going through my mental checklist of Christmas-present recipients. I think my family is holding up pretty well this first Christmas without him, but I think we all have moments when we fall into our individual melancholies of missing him. I understand why the holidays can sometimes be a hard time for a lot of people. Despite the hardships of this year, I consider myself very lucky to still have so many good people in my life. My mom, and my sister and her family mean the world to me, and I’m glad we have each other as a support network. My friends who have been with me through thick and thin are a constant presence in my life, whether I see them or not. And these days, the one who has to put up with me most hours of the day is my Sweetie. I know that I am very lucky to have him in my life, even when my mood swings and incomprehensible mutterings must make him wonder what he sees in me. Not only does he stick by me, he says all manner of nice things to me on a daily basis and is just “there” when I need him. Though we are a little separated this Christmas, I know I am with him, as he is with me.

And I hope everyone is with loved ones, with good cheer and light hearts. Happy Christmas Eve!

I talked to my mom on the phone a little bit last night.  Besides being the anniversary of the attack on Pearl Harbor, it was also the anniversary of my parents’ wedding day.  It was Mom’s first anniversary since Dad’s death in June.  We talked a little bit and she held up quite well until the end of our conversation when I said “I love you Mom.”  Then, she started to cry, and I started to cry, and we both released some good tears and pent-up sadness. 

Not that mine is really pent up.  I still cry on a regular basis when I think about my father and the difficult last few weeks of his life.  Or I cry thinking about wonderful memories that we shared together.  Heck, my sweetie and I were driving around a while ago and, when I heard one old-timey song that Dad used to sing to me, I promptly burst into tears in the middle of our conversation.  I’m not the repressor of emotions I used to be.

As I watched the news coverage of the Pearl Harbor ceremonies, I also thought about how Dad’s death was yet one more loss of a WWII veteran.  Here in Hawaii, the day’s events are pretty significant and get a lot of respect and coverage.  But many of the men who attended the ceremonies who were military survivors of the attack on December 7, 1941 stated this may be their last visit to the site.  They mentioned how old they are getting, and how the trip gets more difficult every year.  Organizers remarked how the make-up of attendance has changed.  How the men used to come by themselves, but now they come accompanied by many family members.  But many of them still do not talk much about the attack, or their subsequent service in the war.  I’ve written before about the loss of these past soldiers.  My father rarely talked about his service, but it was something he was immensely proud of.  After he was diagnosed last August, I went to a book store, bought a large map of the world, grabbed some pens, drove to Mom and Dad’s house, and told my father “Right.  Now show me everywhere you went when you were in the Navy in World War II.”  And, thank my stars, he did.  Almost two entire trips around the world, and stops on almost every continent.  He didn’t elaborate too much on what went on in between all the ports of call.  But at least I now have a little piece of my father’s history in a notebook and an ink-stained map.  I think it meant something to him that I know it.  It certainly means a lot to me.

Yahoo’s blog topic of the day is “What is your favorite holiday tradition?”

That’s a tough one to answer.

My family didn’t have many grand Christmas traditions, other than the standard fare. We decorate, hang stockings, get a tree, put presents under it, open them on Christmas, and eat lots of food. When I was younger, we would occasionally go to a tree lot with fresh trees. The kind of place where you jump on a sleigh (freezing all the way), find your perfect tree, find someone to cut it, and ho ho ho all the way back home. Sometimes we would spend the day at my Aunt and uncle’s house with the extended family - aunts, uncles, cousins, cousins’ kids. For years, we have continued to leave cookies and an apple by the fireplace, if for no other reason than to chortle over the “Bah Humbug!” scripted on our note, somehow, mysteriously, by Christmas morning. I also still love our family tradition of opening one present on Christmas Eve. Who can resist a gift-bonanza sneak peak?!

I enjoy the simple things the most. My mother has a small nativity scene she sets up every year. One Mary, one Joseph, and one Jesus in a small crib. Hand-crafted from wood, with no decoration, I loved these pieces growing up. Mom augments it with some fresh pine cuttings, a couple of angels, and one of my small wolf figurines. Can’t remember when she started using him, but I love the idea that my noble wolf is watching over the young family.

In the spirit of historical accuracy, baby Jesus’ crib stays empty until Christmas Eve. Years ago, I asked my mom if I could place baby Jesus in his crib and she said yes. Since then, I have looked forward to a quiet moment on Christmas Eve when I take baby Jesus from his tissue wrap in a drawer. I unwrap him and place him in his small crib. I look at the small babe, Joseph standing straight and strong, and Mary with her hands clasped and her head slightly bent in a manner of prayer. It is a perfect moment for me to think, to reflect on my past year, and to pray my thank-yous for all the good things in my life. A small tradition, but a meaningful one for me.

Did you ever see the film "Mother"?  If you have, did you love that classic food scene as much as I did? Isn't that the most typical Mom behavior?  Must....feed....children.  Doesn't matter how old the child - Moms have this instinctive need to feed you.  From the big block of cheese to the "protective covering" of freezer burn on the ice cream, that scene in Mother is one of my favorites!  It cracks me up because it is so true. 

It reminds me of similar scenes I've lived with one of my best friend's mothers.  Mama T always tried to feed me. And feed people she could! But there was one time where my friend and I had gone out to eat with friends and when we got back to the house, Mama T was aflutter with excitement at the thought of feeding us.  She delightedly showed us the steaks she had taken out of the freezer to fix for us. We tried to tell her we were not hungry. But she talked up her steaks. We insisted we were not hungry. But she talked up her steaks. We finally had to admit that we had already eaten out and were honestly too full to eat a gigantic steak each. I think she fed both of them to my good friend after I left! 

Mama T was always looking out for me, making sure I was comfortable in her home, making me welcome, and checking in on me. And not just me - though her daughter and I have been friends since we were five years old.  New friends and old friends alike, once you were in her home, you would be mothered.  She always wanted to see and believe the best in people, and by seeing the good in people, she treated you with kindness and respect and care. 

I am very lucky that I have good friends whose parents are so open and supportive of their extended families.  Mama T just happened to be the one who was in my life the longest.  She passed away a week ago, and I feel like a little part of my childhood left with her.  I could go back to my old hometown, and see her, and feel like I still belonged there (my parents moved away several years ago).  I could look forward to being pampered and scolded all day with her love and her no-nonsense common sense. For all that, I know her family will miss her very much.  But I hope they are comforted, as I am, with some hilarious memories and the warm-blanket feeling you get when you remember someone who truly cared for you. Moms are very very good at that.