Some Have Gone And Some Remain...

I started writing this in June. The middle of June to be exact. After an hour of furiously writing, I set it down, not to return to it until June had departed. Now that June is safely behind us for this year, I can share... Admittedly, I have a difficult relationship with our sixth month. The month of the summer solstice. The month of my wedding anniversary and the birthdays of several loved-ones. It's also a month of achy memories for me, for our family. So, a general melancholy forms around me once we get a few days in.

June once revolved solely around the end of the school year, the start of summer, sunshiny days spent vacationing and frolicking in the swimming pool or ocean. Bright, sparkly, gleeful, and carefree. A little over 16 years ago, when my then-fiance/now hubby's only wedding prep request was that we marry on June 1st, I was glad to add one of the most important events of my life to the revelry of June. So we married on that rainy June day in the mountains of Tennessee--the showers totally and completely brightened by the warm blanket of love and family in which we celebrated. June continued to be delightful, sunny perfection.

The first dent in that shiny month came six years later, when we suffered our third miscarriage. It happened around the middle of the month. The rest of that June, and that summer, was cloudy for me, as I quietly grieved and inwardly raged at the Universe. Trying to make sense of it all, I began reading about Buddhism and cosmic interconnectedness. I tried my hand at mediating. I eventually started back at school for another year of teaching Kindergarten. I thought often about the lyrics We all shine on, like the moon and the stars and the sun... The sun eventually shined for me again.

Three years later, the happiness of June would take another hit, as our beloved Gramps entered the hospital. He rallied initially, but soon declined beyond the possibility of recovery. I remember feeling gutted by how vulnerable he seemed laying in that hospital bed. Looking at my own one-year old son, I couldn't help but think about how Gramps was once someone's precious baby boy. He slipped away around the middle of June, and with him went a certain glowiness that never fully returned. Three years after mourning our Gramps over the strains of Oh, Danny Boy and honorary shots of Heineken (his favorite), our family endured another crushing loss.

Our golden-haired and golden-hearted Rosie. The best of us. Our most heartbreaking loss. Our youngest sister fought as courageously as any warrior in any battle. For six long months, she and our mom and brothers lived in the hospital and waged war (and were winning!) against two new lungs that were shirking their duty. Until--once again, around the middle of June--an inexplicable turn ripped her from us, from her family and her fiance...from her hopes and dreams for a second chance at life. A part of my heart will always rage at the Universe for the cruelty of her loss. I now understand that saying about life not being fair.

This June we all saw the month tainted by the horrific hatred carried out in Iraq, Afghanistan, Yemen, Jordan, Somalia, Turkey, and, of course, Orlando. Devastating. Potentially defining for us as a human race. I've watched the aftermath unfold and see so clearly that the cultivated fear and loathing in our world cannot--must not go on. We are all connected, like the water of a pond--what happens to some of us ripples out to the rest of us. All the superficial differences that we humans fight over don't really matter. We are so much more alike than different. Love, Respect, and Kindness must prevail. When will we finally see that?

So much sorrow amid June's sunshine. I can't reconcile it yet. And while I don't and won't wish the grains of time within the month away, it is generally no longer a month of carefree sparkliness for me. Maybe this will change with the coming years. Maybe it won't. I don't know. I only know that I try to take June one day at a time. I strive to focus as much as I can on the joyful moments spent with my hubby, bebes, family, friends--all my dear ones...feeling grateful for my love and best friend, our years together and the family we've built...celebrating the birthdays and other special days of our loved-ones...sitting on my parents' back porch as we talk and watch the sunset...teaching our kids to swim in the local pool...enjoying the longer daylight hours and their light streaming through our windows...squeezing in a "family show" before our bedtime ritual because "it's too light out to sleep, Mom!"...celebrating our Rosie's birthday with random kindnesses... cherishing the memories and love shared with those who have gone and those who remain.

Fab Friday Photo

"Look, Mom--I can put on my sneakers all by myself!"

There Are Places I Remember...

Many people seem to think it's an extraordinary thing to grow up in the area that has been dubbed The Happiest Place on Earth. I remember as a child--and even as an adult--folks would marvel at how lucky I was to live near Mickey Mouse because I could go visit him whenever I wanted. (Yeah... it didn't really work that way.) Growing up in Central Florida meant living, working, and playing in Orlando, Daytona, and all the in-between spots along the I-4 corridor. We moved to Orlando from South Florida when I was 10, and lived in the Union Park area for about a year and a half. I was just a dreamy kid, but it felt idyllic: attending Bonneville Elementary (which remains, in my heart, my very favorite school experience); summer afternoons swimming in the old swimming hole at Downey Park; shuttling up and down Colonial Drive in our van for all the usual errands and activities. We'd sometimes have Sunday brunch at Frisch's Big Boy and I can still picture the drive there, somewhere encountering Red Bug Road on the way. I remember us driving past Union Park Junior High or Colonial High School and I'd contemplate going there. Both were shrouded in a strange mix of excitement and white-knuckled fear to then-me. (Years later I'd read that Rob Thomas, of Matchbox Twenty, had supposedly attended those schools and I pondered how I might have gone to school with Rob Thomas...) When the house our parents were building in Deltona was finally ready, I was as adamant as an 11-year old could be that I wasn't moving. (That didn't fly.) I hadn't even an inkling that I'd be an O-Town regular again in just 7 short years, when I attended UCF.

Through the years, I felt myself become a child of all of Central Florida, frolicking in trips to Blue Springs and the World's Most Famous Beach, as well as reveling in the vivacity that The City Beautiful offered. We took excursions to Altamonte and Longwood, especially in the days before the Seminole Towne Center was built. The sometimes Sunday brunches at Frisch's morphed into the like at Captain Cody's in South Daytona. We were giddy when we'd get to visit the various theme parks and Kennedy Space Center. Watching shuttle launches--mostly from our front yard, one time at the Cape with my favorite teachers--was mesmerizing. Events like spring break in Daytona (a months-long event), "Mickey's Very Merry Christmas Party" and concerts at the Bandshell also polka-dotted my childhood. We even once indulged in the truckloads of "snow" dumped on Church Street. Our adventures to Universal's Mardi Gras were legendary...at least in my own mind. Working at Sea World customer service on spring breaks in high school and for the summer after graduation felt like an extraordinary privilege. (Although, the commute from Deltona to Kissimmee was an arduous daily trek 25 years ago; I can't imagine what it must be like now.) Something that I rarely admit to anyone is that, even now, I feel homesick for Central Florida at certain times of the year. I guess you can take the girl out of Central Florida, but you can't totally take Central Florida out of the girl.

These last 11 days, I've been hurting for my old stomping grounds, especially Orlando. I watch from geographically afar, but my heart and mind are right back there, grieving...trying to make sense of something that won't ever make any sense. Hate never makes sense. It's devastatingly incomprehensible that such horror and hatred even momentarily invaded The Happiest Place on Earth. There are no consoling words for times like this. So, I try to focus on Love and my precious memories and on the people I love who live there. As it turns out, my thoughts and trips down memory lane have revealed that growing up and living in Central Florida as a child and a young adult was extraordinary. It was absolutely a privilege. And the places and moments spent there (and those that we occasionally still spend there) are among the happiest, most golden pieces of my heart.

In My Life...

Welcome to my new blog. Actually, I'm starting this one only because I've lost the login info for my old one and can't access it. (If you want a look-see at that, go here: https://mytakeheart.wordpress.com/ ) As you can see by looking at Take Heart, I haven't blogged in two years. I'm not sure why...it could be due to household duties, homeschooling, working part-time on and off, family stuff, life happenings, part-time laziness on and off--basically all the same reasons that my healthier eating and my meditation routine also keep going on hiatus. But I've missed the ol' blog. Writing down my stray thoughts and delving into them and fleshing them out, for me, was cathartic, therapeutic, slightly artistic, and all sorts of -ic words. All of which--I hope--nudge me towards my true, authentic self. I hope to continue that process here.
If you know me, you know that I have always and shall forever LOVE The Beatles. And "In My Life" is one of my all-time favorite songs. Ever. (Along with All You Need Is Love, Imagine, It's In Every One of Us, It's My Life, and Where the River Meets the Sea...no, not all Beatles' songs)
Wow, just that first verse alone:

"There are places I remember
All my life though some have changed
Some forever not for better
Some have gone and some remain
All these places have their moments
With lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life I've loved them all..."

So, it seemed an appropriate name for this new incarnation of my blog.
I hope you'll come along for the ride as I strive to use this little corner of the interwebs to reflect on and celebrate people, places, and moments in life.

Wishing you Peace, Joy, & Love, always...

~ BridgieBean