Birthdays -- Bring 'em On

Some people like to make a big deal out of their birthdays. I'm sure I was one of those people when I was a kid but that ended a few decades ago. As I've aged I've kind of felt like July 24th can just slip under the radar 'cause each one just seems to remind me about increasing cellulite, deepening wrinkles, decreasing estrogen and the need to dye the grey roots more often! But I spent part of my birthday yesterday with my daughter and her girls and I couldn't have been given a better reason to revise my view on birthdays.

I took a vacation day -- a gift to myself. And I started the day off hearing my dear parents, then my almost-daughter-in-law, later on my sweet son and then my best friend, Eileen, calling to sing "Happy Birthday" to me in various keys. Got those stinkin' grey roots dyed at the hands of my handsome hairdresser, Mark. And then I hung out with my favorite girls for a few hours.

Now spending time with Erin, Meghan and Elizabeth always involves getting snacks, pouring drinks, settling spats, attempting to complete a conversation, cleaning up spills and tracking the whereabouts of Lizzie-the-Motor-Butt. This is inevitable. But today it also meant that I could be with my lovely Kate, which is always a treat. They all came by to bring me a gift and we visited for a bit, then headed for the supermarket "just to pick up a few things." We managed it though Liz climbed out of the cart twice, the big girls begged for twelve different things they didn't need, Meg got tomato sauce on the back of her shirt and knocked over two bags of bird seed, Erin listened in on our grown-up conversation and reported back on it all to Meg....it was a typical expedition! But it was classic "Girl Time" and I loved it.

After I got back home, I emptied bags and cleaned up juice packs, smiling to myself for the longest time. Why? Because the love I feel for my kids (Kevin should not be left out of this musing just because be wasn't home this year) and grand-daughters and the love they pour on me just encircles me like Hallmark's best wrapping paper and brightest ribbon. These incredible people who are in my life remind me of all that really matters while we're here on this earth: time, conversation, listening, laughing, touching, hugging, sharing, love. I found myself thinking that if having a birthday means I can spend a little time just feeling warmed and loved by my big girl and her little ones on this date each year.....well then, I'll not only welcome every birthday but I'll hope for several more decades of them. If a little bit of a birthday can be spent holding hands with Erin and Meg as we walk together, or hearing Lizzie call, "Mom-Mom?" at the top of her lungs when she can't see me, or chatting and catching up with my daughter's latest doings.....oh, go ahead bring 'em on. I can take it.

I'm fairly good at counting the blessings I have but this birthday, spent simply and without fuss, has made me stop, smile and see with such clarity the most wonderful gifts I've ever received: my kids and my grand-kids. Time with them is all I want, all I need. I can't deny I'm getting older but it could be I'm actually getting a little wiser about the stuff that really matters. 'Bout time.

James Taylor wrote, "The secret of life is enjoying the passage of time." Yes, that's true but I think the rest of the secret is enjoying that passage with those you love the most, as often as you can. So, birthdays, if every July 24th from here on out means I can spend a little time that day just basking in my own little piece of the future -- my kids and my grands -- I'll celebrate every one and have sense enough to realize I'm pretty much the luckiest old woman around.

Villa Girl on a Harley

On Sunday night I learned that Kathy, whom I went to high school with, had died in a motorcycle accident. Her husband was driving, came up over a rise and was struck by a minivan that turned left into the bike's lane. He was seriously hurt but Kathy died at the scene. The thought of those last few seconds of her life haunt me. I keep wondering, Did she realize what was happening? Was she frightened? Did she suffer? These morbid thoughts...I can't seem to shake them. But how can I help it? No one should lose her life that way.

We went to Villa Maria Academy, Kathy and I. We were not close friends in high school but we were in the same homeroom and we certainly chatted and commiserated during those years. I had lost track of her until she found me on Facebook several months ago. She noted that I was single and we chatted about it because she had gotten divorced too. But she'd remarried several years ago and was so happy. She wrote that all the old bad stuff didn't matter now and, while she "wouldn't write her ex a thank you note," she was grateful that she had learned what not to accept from anyone because of him. Talk about putting a positive spin on things! But that was Kathy -- bright, empathetic, encouraging, irreverent, genuine. Great qualities for a nurse -- a profession she seemed to really love. I got to know her in a whole new way this year and really appreciated her.

Since Kathy was a social butterfly on Facebook she went about connecting me with some other classmates and vice versa. Thanks to her, many of us have been sharing info, updates, photos, etc. with each other for months. And suddenly....she's gone. She raised four kids, had several grandchildren, just started a new job, her sister is fighting a recurrence of cancer....all these people love and need her. How can this be true? She had written me, "Can you believe it, a Villa girl ridin' a Harley?" Her husband's Harley, but she loved it. And she died riding it on a Sunday morning on a country road in Michigan.

When word began to circulate in our "news in an instant" world there was, of course, shock, disbelief, grief among many. This woman was such a life force -- she couldn't be gone. Yet it's funny....her gift for connecting people seems to have a life of its own. I think I've received or sent emails to twenty old friends just today, people who've heard about Kathy, wanted to be sure, wanted to send a message, flowers, a Mass card, a donation somewhere. And while I feel real pain over her death, I also feel an even deeper gratitude for her life because Kathy's delight in reuniting with people has taken hold of so many of us, her classmates. Our messages, our reconnection, seem like Kathy's way of reminding us about the the experiences we shared, the relationships we formed -- and we're acknowledging that we need to nurture each other now. Despite her death, Kathy has left this living gift to us. I swear I can feel her gently pushing all of us toward each other, with a pert grin on her freckled face. If the messages exchanged today are any indication, her work here with the Villa Class of '70 is done. It's up to us now.

The loss of such a vital person is hard to accept but this woman's legacy is clear: stay open to love, give without expecting anything in return, cherish family and friends, keep them close -- not only to yourself but to each other. I'm certain that this is how Kathy lived her life. And I hope that her death has led us to understand the simple beauty of the way Kathy lived.

I don't know why it has to be a death that prompts us to stop and reflect on the value of a life so honestly lived. I don't understand why we must suffer such a loss before we reach out to regain our old friends. I wish I had been wise enough to search out my high school classmates like Kathy did. I wish I had been open enough to talk to her about these things, to thank her for her generous heart, when she was here. Perhaps this is what she was meant to teach us before she disappeared into the summer sunlight.

I won't forget these lessons -- any more than I could forget Kathy, red hair, sparkling eyes, chatty, open, the real deal. I'm so grateful she was kind enough to reach out to me and reconnect me with our old friends before she was taken away from us. So I'll do my best to keep that going for as long as I can. It's my gift to her. My thank you note.

Villa girl, you ride on ahead. We'll catch up with you down the road.

Engrave It in My Memory

Well, talk about "mother's instincts".......not only has that lovely girl I wrote about entered our circle, my son is now engaged to her!

In a few short months, Kevin has fallen in love with Leigh and asked her to marry him. And in another month or two (since she said Yes) they will be married. They're adults and they both feel ready to take this step, to begin their life together. And I support them completely. Hah, I think to myself, what did I tell you?!

Leigh and her mother have been scouting out places for a ceremony and reception and today my Mom, Kate, Pete and their girls will be meeting them at a possible place for a get-acquainted lunch and tour. Leigh and Kevin have a lot to take care of in a short amount of time both here and in North Carolina, but we're all behind them and can assist with any job they ask us to handle. We women definitely go into fifth gear at the thought of a wedding but we're all just so excited for both of them that being part of this process in even the smallest way will be a pleasure.

It's funny. So often I'm worried about one or both kids, what they're doing, where they're going, how they're coping...you name it. But just now my daughter, often bubbling with what-can-I-do-next, is content and savoring her life right now with her husband and daughters. My son, who has often felt alone and isolated, has found what had been missing in his life and I can hear the happiness he's feeling every time we talk on the phone. Knowing that my children are on such a positive road fills my heart. My Mom and Dad are aging, feeling their limitations, but doing it as gracefully as they can with some wry humor thrown in when all else fails. They're amazing people and I'm so fortunate that they're still here with us. My grand-daughters are the most precious little girls and the very thought of them brings a smile to my face and heart. I have caring friends, a good life. Cap that with the joy of seeing Leigh and Kevin in love and sharing in their plans, and I have to stop and acknowledge that I'd almost forgotten such an important truth: the future is still full of the possible.

Sometimes your vision clears and you can see that your little piece of the universe has unfolded as it was meant to -- then the trick is to recognize that and engrave it in your memory. If the malcontented demons rise up again inside me, I must re-read this post and remember this moment, this time in our lives.

It's a day to count blessings, to be grateful, to look for nothing more than exactly what we have, and to believe in the power of love -- a power that seems to reveal itself to us in ways obvious and less so as our lives ebb and flow. I feel blessed today. Literally, there is love in the air. And I share it with you.