Realizations

Have you ever spoken to someone about their problem or issue, trying to be a good listener and discovered in your conversation that it has turned around for you and become less about them and more about a seed idea about you?  I was talking with my husband this evening about how he was feeling about his job and in the process discovered that his job makes me angry.  My husband is in sales and is honestly never around.  I go to bed at 2 or 3 in the morning because it is the only time that I have to myself since I spend every moment taking care of everyone by myself.  Right now he is home, but this is a rarity for us. He is usually at work.  Unfortunately, this is the price that has to be paid so that he can do the job he enjoys and I would not want anyone telling me I couldn't teach because it causes my spouse to have to work a little harder.  Until we had this conversation, I didn't realize how alone I was feeling.  Now what do about it remains a whole other question.  So for the moment I will sally forth and enjoy my life, but I did find the realization fascinating.

Memories

During this Christmas break, my husband's biological mother committed suicide and it gave me pause to think about death and how it impacts everyone.  Unfortunately death by suicide creates a set of wounds that do not always heal.  There are so many questions and feeling of how you could have done something more to help them, when in truth she suffered from depression and in the end that was her cause of death.  But it also helped me to see the gift that is given to us when someone passes.  Initially, you are lost and their is a feeling that something is missing, but over time it is filtered through a set of memories.  One of the greatest parts of these memories is that often times the good ones remains.

I think about my father.  He passed away when I was 21 and it was unexpected and devastating.  He had a sudden heart attack and was no longer with us.  But the gifts my father gave me live on in my memories.  I remember the last time we met for dinner and my father told me how proud he was of me.  I think of him each time I go to the movies and how much fun we had together.  I still love to gamble like we did at the horse races when I was little.  My father taught me how to drink alcohol, so I am not someone living with alcoholic behaviors.  I am grateful for these memories.  I still love eating breakfast in the park and listening to nature.  These are the gifts of life that live long after the person has gone.  I love that over time the petty little things that I did not enjoy about my father are gone and buried, but what lives are the joyful, loving memories.  Even now if all is quiet I can still hear his voice and remember how it felt to hug him.

Random Thought

Today I sat on the couch looking at Noah's foot and found myself fascinated by his ability to move his toes.  I  know this sounds strange, but when he was in the NICU I would sit and stare at him - not much else you can do when they are all wired up.  I would notice how he could not move his toes.  He could move is fingers, but not his toes.  I always wondered if this was how babies worked and since I only have one I just have to go with whatever he does as the way it is.  So now at 7 he can move his toes all by themselves.  I am still fascinated by this.  True his feet aren't as little as they once were, but still endlessly interesting.  And sadly a little stinky :)