~Thought for the Day~ Safety Pins Riding Shotgun ©

     Once upon a time there was a little fair haired girl; the small girl couldn't seem to even function without dragging her Raggedy Andy doll with her everywhere she went.

She took him to play, she took him to ride along with her on her swing set in the backyard, he sat next to her as she bathed, he kneeled with her as she said her nightly prayers, and as she drifted into a deep slumber, she cuddled him close to her heart.

By the way, yes that is me. I couldn't go anywhere without my Andy. He tagged along with me everywhere I went. Andy and I used to have some pretty cool adventures.

I suppose he was my security, not in the rough bar bouncer type of way, but more of my emotional attachment. He was always there.

I loved him, from the moment Mama gave him to me, I loved him.

I was instructed not to take Andy to school, and against my parental rules I found myself sneaking him in my book bag and taking him along for the ride. At first I just left him inside because I didn't want to get in trouble, but as time went on I decided to take him on the playground. How I got by the teachers with him, I will never know, or maybe they knew and wanted me to learn a lesson.

There are many stories I could tell you about me and Andy and our antics, but I will save those for another day. I will talk to you about another direction right now.

Needless to say eventually I got in trouble for taking my Andy to school, he got hurt, maimed if you will, and even after his injuries and many stitches, he was still close to my heart every single night. I loved him anyway.

After taking many risks with the ol ‘boy and risking my own consequences I began to learn that maybe I shouldn’t bring this type of trouble upon myself.

I still drug him over hills, through the mud, and he never missed a nightly prayer.

Mom had sewn his arm back on so many times, which by the way, I carried him by the arm; she finally gave up on sewing him back, so she simply used a safety pin and affixed his lower arm to his shirt.

I suppose along the way I began to grow up, and I didn't take Andy everywhere, he sat in my bedroom, his presence always known as he sat there, greeting me with a fond memory when I looked upon him.

This little girl finally grew up, and along the way I suppose Mama decided it was time to pack Andy up to make room for rock posters, hairspray, jelly bracelets and countless other items that I just couldn't live without as a teenager.

I have thought of my Andy often over the years, recalling our antics and smiling when I thought of busting a bully in the nose because he shoved Andy face down in a mud puddle. Oh the good old days.

Here we are in 2014, inside still resides that same little girl, still taking chances, daring to go out a limb (no pun intended) for people that I hold dear.

Over the weekend my youngest son was trying to recover from this nasty stomach bug he has so generously shared with the family, when he feels bad he likes to stroll down memory lane with me and find out everything he can about my life as it began in the 70’s. He had come across a box that contained many of my old toys, clothes, etc. Its contents were a great surprise, for many reason, one of which I will announce later when I am feeling better. So we sat on the couch, this big box packed tightly between our feet, and he started taking out one item at a time.

We laughed as he revealed the budding young hippie clothes I had worn when I was 3 and 4 years old, he was astounded when he unveiled the groovy mobile that was at once time affixed to my crib, and we were laughing and giggling and then I saw him, and it seemed my son was pulling him out of the box in slow motion, there he was.

 Andy!

Oh my sweet Andy!

I was in complete awe, here he was, my good buddy, at times my only companion, and as the tears formed, they began to roll at a steady stream when I saw the safety pin, there was his bad arm still pinned to him just as Mama had repaired him so many years before.

He looked so good for his age, his hair somewhat lacking, but he is approaching the middle aged man era of his existence so it stands to reason. Without even realizing what I was doing, I clutched him to my chest, as I had so many times, and it felt so good. I was instantly transported back to the playground, to the swing set and then our nightly prayers.

I had to look, so I pulled back his shirt, and yes like a light in the darkest, was the all too familiar heart that simply said “I love you”.

I began thinking about ol ‘Andy this morning, and how this relates to life and I came up with a few notions.

In our lives we encounter people, we welcome them in to our daily routine, we love them, we become used to them being there, and sometimes they stay, sometimes they go.

Sometimes they travel a different road, and you must part at the crossing, and that is ok.

I think of my tattered doll, he saw me through so many things, and then I began to see he was causing me problems, well let’s be honest, I was dragging him along and I was causing myself problems because I refused to let go.

I grew, and although he had never betrayed me or left me, I reached a point in my life where it was time to tuck him away and let him be a memory, a beautiful memory, but can you imagine me at almost 41 lugging around a doll dressed in a sailor suit with a bum arm?

There comes a time in our lives when we must face things, face taking chances, face going at it alone, and that doesn’t mean you must leave everyone behind, but it means it is time to grow, time to put some things away and move on. Andy and I had a good run. I am truly glad he can’t talk.

If I had kept pulling Andy around with me I was bound for more trouble, it wasn't his fault, but I had to learn when it was time to let go and stand on my own.

My love for him is still there, he is still as good-looking as he was 38 years ago, but it is best if I let him decorate my memory.

Life is about growing up, it doesn’t happen all once, and contrary to popular belief, it never stops, there is no magical age when you stop growing up and learning about this crazy thing we call life.

Along our travels, we are given a sidekick,someone to ride shotgun along part of our journey, and some stay, and some just need to go, for the betterment of everyone.

I put Andy back in the box, later this week I will find a special place to put him, one that is fitting for him in my life.

Look over your life, do you have some items, people, or memories that need to be repaired and then packed up?

Take them out once and a while, hold them close to your heart, shed some tears and then move on down the road of life, it will make finding them years later much more attractive. You can miss them, hurt for them, and you can best of all remember the good times, but sometimes we just have to grow.

The photo for this Thought for the Day is of my Andy, I knew you all might want to see him, and I am sure he is glad to make an appearance in this message.

Ha!  As I was closing this piece, Kenny Rogers started on my playlist, and to quote him, “You got to know when to hold them, know when to fold them, and when to walk away.”

 © 

Here are my thoughts.

Teresa ;)

~Thought for the Day~ Tangled Up, In Memory of Angie ©

  This will be the very first “Thought for the Day” that I have written without Angie. I am going to attempt to talk about her, and I am sure after the flood of many tears subsides, I can touch on what she was to me, and what she will always be. You see, she was the driving force behind my writing, and I am now writing this without her.

   I don’t remember the day we became friends, it was more as if we had always been. Our families had known each other before we ever came along, our mothers were friends, so it was a given that we would be.

My earliest memory, and one we have laughed about through the years, is us spending countless afternoons brushing the tangles out of my long blonde hair. She was slightly older than me, so I listened to her. (Well, I tried.) She would wrangle me away from playing football with the boys, and make me sit still. She was so gentle, and as she worked and worked on my hair, she would talk to me, telling of things she had learned in the wisdom of being older than me.  

She always would laugh and say, “TC, you are such a tomboy, but I think you are the prettiest one out there playing ball.”

She always made me shine. Countless hours she spent trying to get me back to a somewhat girlie looking girl. Braiding my hair, making sure it was just so, knowing that as soon as my feet hit the ground again, I would head back to the mud and muck; and she would never complain. My Mama always thanked her for being so patient with me.

As the years passed, we grew closer, and my Mom had such a special spot in her heart for Angie. They clicked, and you could often walk into the Rock Store, and see Angie and Mama laughing it up.

I don’t really remember a time growing up that she Angie wasn't smiling and laughing, her radiance was stunning. She lit the way for so many people, and she continued to shine into adulthood.

I remember when she met the love of her life. Mama was sewing her wedding dress, and Angie was so nervous. She couldn't wait to be her sweetheart’s wife, and Mama assured her that it would all work out. In fact, I think somewhere upstairs, I still have the pattern Mom used for her dress. It was just as gorgeous as she was.  

Angie lived her dream, a simple one, but she lived it; she had her children, her husband, and happiness. Her family was the true fuel that kept her going. She adored them like no other person I have ever known.

Angie was always there: Always, no ifs, ands, or buts. She was there for her friends and family. She wasn't well, but she always said the same thing: “Someone in the world is worse off than me, so I am fine.”

When I began writing again, I felt unsure, a little weak in the knees about giving the world my words. I had only shared my writings with Mom, and then with Angie. She encouraged me beyond belief, she told me the truth, she cheered me on, and finally I stepped out and gave the world a chunk of my soul: my words. She never failed to read every single word and then let me know what they meant to her. As I continued to write, she kept cheering, and if I slacked off, I would get a phone call or an email letting me know to get off my behind and keep writing. She said I had something to give people, she believed in me. So again, she was standing behind me, not getting my tangled hair back in shape, but encouraging my tangled soul to keep reaching.

When my Mama became sick, she was there. She called her very often, it troubled her so much to know my Mom was suffering, not in good health herself, she worried about my Mom more than herself.

I remember Angie calling Mom near the end of Mom’s life, she called to check on her and Mom insisted on speaking to Angie, so I raised her up in bed and gave her the phone. I listened intently and the tears began to roll with such intensity. “Angie, I need you to promise me something: Promise me that if I leave, if I pass, that you will see to it that Teresa never stops writing.” 

I watched as Mama cried, and Angie assured her that she would always be behind me.

 I dedicated my first book to Angie, because she deserved so much, she pushed me, she rooted for me, and she believed in me when I couldn’t believe in myself.

Mama passed.

I looked out the window the day after; I was just a shell of a person.  I saw Angie with her oxygen tank coming up the driveway, she held me close, she let me cry my eyes out, and she said nothing at first. Then, she reminded me that Mom was in no more pain, and that it was now her job to make sure that I followed my passion. She held me so tight, I hope I never forget that embrace. I looked horrible, and she wiped the hair out of my face and smiled, saying, “There’s my pretty girl.”

I read over our emails before I wrote this thought for the day. Very often, I would get an email letting me know she had not seen me writing and I better get with it, always ending it with how much she loved me and how my words touched the very core of her being.

I also read some words that she wrote not long ago, “Don’t worry what people think of you, if they are truly your friends, they will love you at your worst, and shine with you are your best, I am so proud of you, I love you TC, and as soon as the weather is pretty, we are going to sit in your thinking spot and cry and laugh, I love you so much.”

Sadly my dear friend didn't get to see prettier weather, she passed away. I am sure where she is right now that the sun is shining and she is having a wonderful time with my Mama and Mimi, but I tell ya, this hurts so deeply. I am struggling to think of writing without her, that constant reminder of being who I am, and if people don’t like it, well, tough for them.

She saw in me some things I still can’t see in myself. She saw me at my worst and still loved me anyway.

I want to remind you all, do not take one day for granted, if you have grudges, make them right, and do not hold hard feelings towards someone else. 

Remember the beauty that person once held in your life, and remember they are only human. If someone can love you at your worst and takes the time to understand why, you have a friend for life. If they can't, they aren't genuine.

Angie, my sweet, beautiful friend, I have written this thought for the day for you. I didn’t think I could, I want to call you so badly, just to hear that infectious  laugh, and to hear the joy in your voice.

I will take your advice and be myself, and as you said, I won’t worry if people like me or not, I will not change who I am.  

I am going to miss you standing behind me; it was such a reassurance in my life, a constant that I never dreamed would be gone this soon. I love you so much, and I sure wish I could feel your hands in my tangled mess of hair one more time. I am so proud to have had you in my life, guiding me, and showing me the kind of woman I need to be. What a beautiful example to the world you were.

I hope you are singing, dancing, and smiling, I know you are. I feel it, those of us touched by your life will never go a day without you in our thoughts, and I promise I will do my best to make you proud.

I think I will go down to the thinking spot and plant something special, so that when I am there, you are with me.

Someone in this world always is worse off than you. I learned that from one of the most beautiful friends I could ever been blessed with. Angie, you aren't here, and I am still sick in my guts about it, but I am so very grateful for what you taught me. We will see each other again someone day, and, oh, what a day that will be. Angie, you will live on in your children. I can see so much of you in them.

Hey, if I start slacking on my writing, find some way to give me that kick in the behind that you were so famous for.

I will never ever get over you. EVER.

Friendship is being there, forgiving, forgetting, and living each day as if it were your last, not just in the good times, but also when you are down in the ditch struggling to get out. Thank you for teaching me that.

Rest in peace, Angie, I know your suffering is over. I love you with all of my heart and tangles.

Here are my thoughts.

© 

TC ;)

~Thought For The Day~ Grief-Coming Undone,Doing, Done. ©

     Grief, this is a very tricky topic. It can have such overwhelming results. I want to shed some light on my perspective and how it has influenced my life.

Most every one of you knows that I lost my precious Mother in July of 2011.

I never saw it coming, in my mind she was going to get better, the sun would shine again on us both and our lives would be filled with more memories together. I was wrong, maybe I had the gut feeling at the beginning of her illness and I just dismissed it, I am unsure. I do know that it smacked me in the head, body and heart like a huge building toppling on me, there was nothing I could do to stop it, I couldn't scream loud enough, I couldn't cry her back, nothing. It was done. It was torture; it was the most sickening thing I have ever gone through in my life.

She wasn't just my Mom, she was my best friend, she was my mentor, she was my role model, she was everything.

Most importantly, I was her everything, I had heard my entire life how she began living the day I was born, she and my dad had tried for many years to have a baby, and after countless false alarms, endless  bouts of sadness and crying, she found out she was pregnant with me. She always said she fell in love with me before she ever saw me and I truly believe it.

I have often written about the way she looked at me, I can't explain it, it was a gleam, not just of pride but she look upon me as if I was perfection, and I suppose in those gorgeous blue eyes of hers, I was.

We were inseparable, even in my adulthood, I spent any time I could with her, doing whatever, we always had such a bond, in friendship, love, loyalty, and mutual admiration. It was my pillar of strength. No matter what life threw at me, I could run to Mama, and if she couldn't offer wisdom and a great solution, she could hand me a pretty mean cup of coffee and conversations and laughs that made my situation seem meaningless.

When she became sick I insisted on caring for her, I didn't care what it took, I would be by her side every step of the way, and we stuck it out, we faced some incredibly revolting moments through her sickness, and as she laid there and cried, almost feeling shame for her illness, I dried her eyes as she had mine so many times throughout our lives and assured her that this was what I wanted. I wanted her to have her pride, which was important to her and for me as well.

When she passed I became a zombie, and I skated by on autopilot for a very long time.

I faked a smile, I laughed a false chuckle but it wasn't real. I was down, and I wasn't sure I could get up from such an intense blow to my entire world.

Grief happens, but what I think people don't see or tend to forget is that as you walk away from a funeral, a person, a loss, it doesn’t just magically stop, and grief is a very dark and scary place. It can pop up in the strangest places, it can consume you and it doesn’t go away after an allotted time is met.

I have lost quite a few friends through the grief process, I never really saw it coming, and that is ok,  I can’t ask people to stay in my life that don’t want to understand, but I would like for them to understand the woman who stands before you today.

Grief and loss are tragic but I think perhaps the sense of loneliness that it generates is quite the most frightening.

I felt as though I was standing in this great big world alone, I felt cold, I felt time had stopped, I felt like my life had ended too. In time I have seen that those things aren't true, but at the time, and through this journey, I have learned what real love is, what fighting is all about, and that no matter what, you can get back up and take a swing at life when it floors you.

Grief is a very lonely place, and it doesn’t pass, I don't think it ever really goes away, it becomes manageable, but your heart and soul still aches, and it completely changes you. In my case it has changed me for the better, I acknowledge the little things far more often, I treasure time spent with those that I love, and I try and understand what someone is going through without walking over them, judging them and leaving them by the roadside to travel alone.

I called my best friend Teresa many times and said, “T, when will it stop hurting?” Her reply always the same, “T, it never stops, you just learn to live with it.” 

She is the very essence of what I mean, she has held me through this, seen me at my worst, at my best, watched me fall, seen me rise, and through it all she didn't judge, she didn't walk away, she didn't turn her back to me and dismiss me, she stuck it out.

I am glad to say I am seeing better days, but it has taken some work, it has taken going through a living hell daily, to be where I am now.

I am not the same Teresa you once knew, I am different, I am more in tune with people, with hurt and I am very careful to remind people every day that I love them, we are not promised tomorrow, so I say I love you so many times during my day, because if something happens, I want those I love to know it without a shadow of a doubt.

If you are one of the people who walked away from me as I stood in the darkness, I am not mad, I am not upset, I still care for you and love you, but I far tougher than you ever knew and you are missing out on a better version of Teresa that is to be released soon.

Grief, you don't get it until you have lived it, but you sure as hell can get up afterwards, you can claw, dig, scrape and fight, and when you stand back up, you emerge as a person with battle scars, healing each day but never forgetting.

And as you look back you remember who took the time to be patient with you, who stood out in the rain with you, who cared enough to understand when you were feeling nothing but doom and gloom, who loved you when you thought there was no reason to smile, the people who stuck around.

This week I not only celebrate the birth of my youngest son, but I also am nearing the anniversary of my twin daughters that passed away 8 years ago. I am sure I will laugh, cry, and look back but I will remember the lessons my Mother taught me through it all, and make her proud.

Grief is an ugly beast, and if you are going through it, have been through it or are facing it, dig deep and hold on to anything you can grab, and when you rise again, look around in the wreckage and see who weathered that storm with you, then look at yourself, and don't give a damn what people think of you, because you survived and you do it every single day of your life. I will miss my Mama every day that I am on this earth but thankfully in her time here, she taught me so many great things and I will survive, taking each day, each tear at a time and I will smile and be me.

 Grief is a bitch, but ya know what, you can be an even bigger one. Hold on to your faith, your family and those friends who surround you and be yourself. It can't rain forever, brighter days will come, and I do believe those are the words of my good, good friend Rick who talked me through many late nights and never wavered in the storm.

©

Here are my thoughts.

Teresa ;)