One Year Later

Yesterday marked one year since my father gained his heavenly reward. I've spent an entire trip around the sun without him. I'm not sure how that's possible and yet, it seems like it's been an eternity. Death and time are the strangest things.

If you ask, I don't say much. The emotional current still ebbs and flows. Most days are fine, and some are less fine. I knew it would be hard though I never imagined how complex the feelings would be. 

A friend shared a poem last year called "Death Is Nothing At All" by Henry Scott-Holland:

I am I, and you are you...

The life we lived is untouched, unchanged...

Laugh as we always laughed at the things we enjoyed together...

Think of me and pray for me...

Let my name remain in the household...

Life means all that it ever meant...

I am but waiting for you...

One brief moment and all will be as it was before... 

How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again! 

What I have learned this past year, more than anything, is how grateful I am for him. He was a TOUGH COOKIE... a LOT of the time. But Lord, he loved us.

In his final weeks, he made a point of telling us he was going to die in a way that would serve as an example for us. I thought to myself, "Oh great, that won't cause years of therapy. I am somehow the cause of the worst suffering he has ever known. Fantastic!" If you knew him, subtlety was not his forte 🤣

As much as I hated his declaration, I understand it now. In the past, he pushed me away when others were dying. He said I shouldn't remember them that way, but I wasn't going to lose another second with him. I told him I wanted to be with him. I told him regardless of what he wanted that I WOULD be there. I wanted to pour every last ounce of my love into him. I don't think he liked it, but he blinked slowly and nodded his head to say, ok.

I hate to remember what he experienced those last few weeks, but I am so incredibly thankful for what he showed and taught me during those final lessons on this earth.

I think about him and pray to him often, and I miss a lot about him. Life didn't end when we lost him; it's just different. Like the poem above, I look forward to laughing at the trouble of parting when we meet again.

To celebrate him, I bought a bottle of La Crema chardonnay and a bouquet of colorful flowers. Cheers to you, Daddy, and thank you from the bottom of my heart! I am but waiting for you.

Our First Wedding Anniversary

Chris and I made it through our first year of marriage! We joke that it's been the fastest, yet slowest year of our lives. Time felt like it was crawling in the moment, but now that it's gone we aren't sure where it went.

We took a break from house renovations to celebrate at Scarpa's Italian in Lakeland. We then returned home for wedding cake and champagne.

Yes, our wedding cake made the move from Ft. Pierce to Valrico!

I was SO EXCITED that the "wedding box" made it to the Valrico house instead of getting tucked away in storage. I dug out our personalized cake cutting set and champagne flutes for the special occasion. 

Chris dutifully played along despite his dread of eating year-old, frozen cake and his distaste for champagne. Next year, we'll fill his flute with Jack and Diet :)

We've accomplished so much despite the infamy of 2020. We have stretched and grown in many ways, and we learn more about each other and our relationship every day.

It's been an adventure, to say the least.

CHEERS!

Our New Home

Chris and I did a thing. We closed on a house! Lakeland, here we come!

Between our wish list and the current real estate market, it felt most days like we'd never find a house. Existing home sales soared to a 14-year high in August, and total inventory hit a record low in September. On par for 2020 and the Bealls, right?

We looked at 13 houses total. Acorn Drive, our new home, was number 12. She's a 3/2, 1900 square feet, on 1.3 acres in rural northwest Lakeland.

We first saw her on a Thursday evening at dusk. We stepped out of our cars and took a deep, collective breath of fresh, clean air. Stars were emerging, crickets were chirping, and the scent of a neighboring bonfire wafted on a gentle breeze. We glimpsed at each other from the corners of our eyes. We both felt the promise in that moment.

After touring the house, we sat in the rocking chairs on the front porch and discussed our thoughts. We agreed on a vision, and that we could be happy spending a lot more time in those rocking chairs.

Our minds reeled that night, and we decided to look at her one more time before making an offer. The next day at lunch, we returned and solidified our plan. We submitted an offer by the end of the day.

We have a big "to do" list for the next few months. It will challenge us in many ways, but we're ready. 

It's exciting to feel that the things we've dreamed about might actually be within reach.

Keep an eye on my Facebook photo album for progress pics!

New Car Who Dis

The year 2020 has brought yet another change: after 13 years and 245,000 miles, it's time to say farewell to my Old Girl. Though I'm pumped to have a sweet new car, I'll miss my quirky ride or die.

She has dents, dings, and scratches. Her paint is chipping. The latch on the center console has been broken for years, so I rest my elbow on it to keep it closed. The labels on the radio buttons are wearing off. The monogram decal on the rear window is flaking away. One of the air vents fell apart, and one of the doors creaks and moans when you use it. The sunroof smells mildewy after rain. The driver's window sings when you roll it up and down. One of the belt buckles plays hide and seek in the seat. The cargo storage contains treasures dating back to 2007, including softball gloves from intramural games with my sorority sisters.

All to say—she is loved, and it shows. We have a lot of miles under our belts. She's outlasted friendships, relationships, careers, and even the slow death of the CD player. We've shared every step since my junior year in college. She's witnessed a long, beautiful transformation in my life.We truly know the best and worst of each other.

She was such a good Old Girl that I stuck with her make and model.

Allow me to introduce my brand spanking new, 2020 Hyundai Santa Fe SEL 2.4 FWD!

Here's to making it to the year 2033, or longer!

The Biggest Year Yet

Several friends and family members encouraged me to bring back the blog during COVID-19 this year. I thought, "Yeah, that's a great idea BUT...." [insert every excuse in the book]. The truth is, I didn't know how to express what I was feeling. I was afraid to tap into the torrent of emotions threatening under the surface. I was feeling so much, and yet nothing at all. I felt listless and defeated. No one needed another a sob story in their dismal social feeds.

Despite the pandemic, 2020 has been a BIG YEAR.

I've shared a few updates on Facebook, but I've been pretty closed-lipped to the public. My purpose today is to share more about the major milestones this year, to shake the dust off the blog and my passion for writing, and maybe to process my emotions more fully.

After four years together, Chris and I married January 25, 2020. It was an incredible celebration. It's hard to express how humbled and grateful we are for the loved ones who shared in our joyous union. If you haven't already, check out our pictures on Facebook!

Now husband and wife, the pressure was on to sort out our long-distance living situation. I began applying for jobs in earnest, though I was discouraged by the job market in Polk County.

I had a few nibbles here and there, though I kept holding out for more. My expectations were pretty high. I was looking for a unicorn, but I had time. Right? It was only a few weeks after the wedding.

Enter COVID-19. The world basically stopped. I left the office for Spring Break and never went back. I was blessed to maintain my job and work from home. It just came with its own unique challenges.

My social life crumbled. I had plenty of Zoom and telephone calls, but it wasn't the same. My primary love language is quality time, and I felt so isolated and alone in quarantine.

The job market decimated before my eyes. I held onto two leads from mid-March to mid-May. I interviewed (online) for both on the same day, and they ultimately hired from within because of uncertainty with the pandemic.

I kept applying for jobs, though they were fewer and farther between. There were no nibbles, either.

I lost every ounce of wind from my sails. I was probably mildly depressed, but then again, so was everyone else. The "new normal," right?

We started visiting more with friends by June, so that rejuvenated my spirit a bit.

I decided by the end of June that there wasn't much hope for the job market to rebound. It was time to let go of my unicorn and be with my husband. Besides, I was pretty miserable by myself.

Magically, a number of jobs appeared and I applied with vigor. It was time for change. It was time to make my move.

Chris and I went to Horseshoe Beach for the 4th of July. As we set out for a weekend of scalloping and fishing I thought to myself, "I need to check the Florida Polytechnic University website one last time before the long weekend." And there was my unicorn: Executive Assistant to the CFO. I applied July 3 from the Circle K gas station while Chris fueled the truck.

We returned July 6 from our scalloping trip, and I began praying the Surrender Novena. By July 8, I had five online interviews / phone screenings lined up. I interviewed with Florida Polytechnic July 10 at 9 a.m., and they offered me the job by 4 p.m. Circumstances didn't allow for longer than two weeks notice, so I immediately called my supervisors at IRSC.

Oh, the joy and agony! What in the world happened for the job market to pick up so quickly, and for so many people to be interested in me at the same time?! I can only surmise it was a God thing. It had to be the Surrender Novena. Fr. George wasn't kidding about that prayer!

My last day at IRSC was July 23. I packed my valuables and enough clothes for a week or two, and I headed to Valrico to start living with Chris and my mother-in-law. I began at Florida Poly July 27.

I was a train wreck the first week. The adrenaline of my last two weeks at home wore off, while fear and anxiety for the future set in. There were SO MANY EMOTIONS. I cried all the time. Every day. In my car, in the bathroom at work, even one time after I farted in the car with Chris and his mom (read: blew a hole through the seat). SERIOUSLY. My head, my heart, and my bowels were in turmoil. I woke at all hours of the night with my wheels just spinning.

I kept reminding myself that God CLEARLY brought me here, and this was HIS PLAN. If He believed in me then I should believe in me, too. I clung to that thought for dear life.

I decided I needed another round of the Surrender Novena as I entered week two of my "new life," so I began praying Monday, August 3.

My house in Ft. Pierce listed Thursday, August 6. There were three showings Monday, August 10, and two offers by Tuesday, August 11. I signed a contract August 11 with a closing date of August 24. Cash offer with two weekends to pack my stuff and get out of dodge. It doesn't get much better or more stressful than that. The Surrender Novena strikes again!

Needless to say, the last few weeks have been wild. Chris and I are exhausted in every possible way. We are running on fumes, but we're hanging on for the ride. As Fr. George reminded us a few weeks ago, "When God commands, I can." Jesus called Peter out on the water, just as He called Chris and me into this new unknown. With faith, we can do this. We WILL do this.

I'm crying less and praying more. I still have hard days, though they're fewer now. It's a process, and it will be for some time.

I thank God every day for the overwhelming love and support from my family, my friends, and most incredibly, my husband. Though he struggles too, he does everything in his power to quiet my storms and calm my soul, even when I'm unaware.

I am truly blessed. 💓

My Question for Rosemary

(for the fullest effect, play the following song while reading)



To my maternal grandmother, Rosemary Sowinski:

As I go for my evening walk in the 55° breeze with a ridiculously beautiful moon rising, this song shuffles through my iTunes and I think to myself, "I bet Grandma liked this song." I think of you more often than either of us probably imagined.

As grandchild #13 of 21, I had a slight case of middle (grand)child syndrome. I often felt lost in the shuffle of your raucous, joyful gaggle of grandchildren. Don't get me wrong; there was no place I'd rather be than with our big, fat, Catholic family. I cherish our Polish Circus more than anything in this world! But our personal, one-on-one relationship was late to bloom.

With dementia nipping at your toes in your final years, widowed and residing in an assisted living facility, your face would beam when I walked in the door to visit. After hugs and kisses hello, you'd ask covertly (though no one was listening), "You live by yourself, right?" I'd remind you confidently that yes, I've lived by myself for a few years now. You'd shake your head incredulously and ask, "How do you do it?" At first I thought you felt bad for me or that you didn't approve of a young woman living alone. But then I realized: it was your first time living alone... possibly ever. It was your way of connecting with me and drawing strength from me; two single sisters facing the world together, yet on our own.

In this moment tonight, with this song wafting along the cool breeze, tantalizing my senses, I'm taken back to your funeral. I recall the moment it was time to start processing from the church lobby to the altar. Our family, 35+ members strong, took a deep, collective and shaky breath. Spouses, significant others, and parents with small children grabbed each others' hands. We held our heads high as we walked together in the wake of our matriarch. I emerged in the crowd from the pillared lobby into the exposed sanctuary, and it hit me: I was one of the only people without a hand to hold. Indescribable loneliness ripped through the core of my being as I followed your glimmering, majestic, silver casket in a sea of my most beloved people on this planet. How could I be surrounded by so many people I loved, yet feel so profoundly alone?

As I looked around me, overwhelmed with the magnanimity of your life and our family, I was struck by a question that has haunted me since that day two years ago: How did you do it?

How did you become such a remarkable woman of faith? How did you become such an admirable mother, aunt, sister and friend? How did you impact so many people in so many small ways? How did you find such strength in the hardest of days? How did you walk into eternity with such confidence and glory? How, how, how? How did you do it?

Like our personal relationship, I feel I'm late to bloom on most of these fronts. Some days I feel close, yet other days I feel so far away.

I know the answers in my heart. Perhaps you're whispering them on the breath of angels. But oh, how I wish I could ask you in person. How I wish we could talk and pray over coffee, or a game of cards, or our family favorite, Bump. I wish your lips could speak it to my heart, preferably with a warm hug... and maybe even a waffle ice cream sandwich.

Until then, I will continue praying for love, charity and wisdom as I face each new day, calling upon my memory of you and what you would've done.

I love you and miss you, Grandma. I think of you so very often.

 

From the Perspective of Babes

Christmas is upon us! It's such a beautiful and sentimental time of the year. One of my favorite parts of the holiday season is setting up the manger. I don't really know why or when it claimed such a special place in my heart. But I look forward to it most as I decorate every year. 

We recently learned that my eldest nephew also finds special joy in setting up the manger, so my mom saved the manger for both of us to set up at her house. Mindful to let him do most of the staging because he is younger and very eager, I gently unwrapped the figurines from their tissue paper and set them on the table for him.

With the last figurine unwrapped, I looked up to check Daniel's progress and noticed that all of the figurines were in a tightly woven circle around baby Jesus, facing inward toward the infant. I instinctively reached to turn them outward and spread them into a magazine-worthy display. Yet as my hand twitched to do so, I stopped.

Why did I feel the need to change it? There was nothing wrong with it. In fact, everything was right with it. It's not what we typically see when we look at mangers. But you know what? It should be. Just like my sweet, 4-year old nephew with his innocent faith, the characters stand in awe of baby Jesus. And it's how we should feel when receiving the gift of Jesus at Christmas: humbled and awestruck, hearts teeming with love, so pure and blessed.

Thank you, Daniel, for reminding Auntie Kelly to have a childlike faith! Love you, buddy!