A few things to say…
Posted: August 18, 2025 Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: family, life, writing Leave a commentSo, the last time I was here, it had been nearly four years since my previous entry. That was in May. I’ve gone from four years in between posts to four months. Progress?
When I published the last entry here, I was given a small gift from a colleague. A pen, on which is inscribed a quote from Ernest Hemingway.
“In order to write about life, first you must live it.”
This gift came from a person who didn’t know I had a blog until that entry was published. The message behind the gift was clear. Keep writing. Build on your experiences and keep writing. Twice in for months isn’t stellar, but, hey, it’s a start.
The focus on this one is a bit like the last one — an update on where things stand within the family and huge things coming our way.
Aidan is a college senior. Read that again. He stayed in Maine this summer, working three jobs and continuing to build his independence. We’ve seen him three times, once in May, once in June, once in July. We’re not really sure when we’ll see him next. We know he’ll be home the first weekend in October. Might see him before that. Might not.
We stay in regular contact, with the full family text chat getting a workout during the week. We facetime every few weeks, but the regular contact is nice. I’m not sure what the future holds, but I’m not worried. I’m excited. Aidan needed college for life, not so much for academics. His work ethic is unmatched, and he’s going to get a job doing something. He’ll be an asset to whoever is lucky enough to get him.
We’ve worked our butts off to get him out of school debt free, and that will happen, allowing him the chance to find what’s best for him without being burdened with years of school debt.
It’s been great to hear of his adventures this summer. He’s working hard, and he’s finding time to enjoy the things he likes with his girlfriend by his side. As a Maine native, is she the reason he stayed this summer? I’d be naive to think it wasn’t part of his decision, but I know the work was something he wanted. He talked about this last year, too. No matter the reason, he’s busy, and he’s enjoying himself at the same time. And, when watching from a distance, what’s not to be proud of with that? We miss him here, but this is part of the process. It’s not an easy process, but it feels better when you see the good on the other end. Just can’t believe he’s a senior.
And, if he’s a senior, that means Erin is about to become a college freshman. Yup. We move her in later this week. Thursday in fact. There’s no hiding the emotional challenge that day is going to bring. We’ll be so focused on getting her moved in and settled, that when the time comes to say goodbye, it’s going to be hard. Really hard.
Since the last entry, we’ve watched her turn 18, win a third golf championship in four years, be named an all-area golfer for the fourth straight year, be incredibly rewarded at scholarship night, walk across the stage at graduation and work two jobs this summer. All the while, soaking in every moment of the end of her high school journey as she prepares for the next step.
Packing is taking place, last minute plans are being made, and it seems like she’s got a really good match with her roommate. She’s also going to hit the ground running. She’s interviewed for two different leadership-based programs on campus, and she’s been accepted to both. She’s building her community before she even arrives. And I’m thrilled for her.
Big things are ahead, and that will be the mindset to help deal with the emotions Thursday will bring. She has a goal. She knows what she wants, and I believe whole heartedly she will achieve her dreams and that she’s in the right place to do it. So through the tears that are undoubtedly going to flow, my focus remains on that, knowing she will continue to bring us such immense pride.
I mentioned this before, and I know it sounds weird, but this will be the first year since 2009 when I will not have one — or both — of them in the car with me in the morning. Thank goodness for a six-minute commute.
The house is definitely going to be different. Renee and I are ready. At least I think we are! Our fall weekends are already booking up pretty quickly, and I’m confident we’ll meet this next stage head on. In one sense, it’s almost a full-circle moment. That’s because we were never going to have kids. For the first 10 years of our marriage, it was just us. And, as we just celebrated 31 years, we’ve got this.
I think that’s good for now. Not much other excitement. We had our house painted, and that looks great. Roof next, probably in the spring. I’m on blood pressure meds for the first time. I have a follow up appointment in a couple of weeks, and I’ll be curious to see if my bloodwork shows improvement. Why? Because I’ve been on the rowing machine at least five days a week since early June. And, while summer always makes it a challenge to eat well, I am happy with some incremental changes I’ve made to help out the numbers. More on that later. It’s worth an entry of its own someday.
Until then….thanks for being here. Nothing earth shattering here this time. There can’t be every time! Instead, just a look inside of the recent life and times of your favorite author.
You can blame Jackie O.
Posted: May 8, 2025 Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: family, fiction, life, parenting, writing 1 CommentIt’s been nearly four years since I’ve been in this space. I remembered my username, so that was a plus. Had to reset my password. If there were blog cobwebs, I would have had to dust them off. But, alas, I’m here. And for that you can blame my mother. How? Simple, really.
This morning, I reached into a closet for something and in the process, I saw the envelope. The one that has her perfect penmanship on it that just says ‘Michael.’ It’s the letter she wrote before she passed, leaving it for all of us to read after the fact. It’s been a while since I had, in fact, read it. So, tonight, I pulled it out. And there it was. Her basically telling me I need to write more. I don’t disagree with her, but it’s not always that easy. I’m not sure if I’ll be back in this space in four days, four months or four years, but for tonight, anyway, I’m here because of the real Jackie O. And that’s a good enough reason for me. If only I had a McDonald’s Diet Coke sitting next to me. That would be too perfect.
I’m not really sure to write about. That’s a lie. I do know. I just don’t know if it’ll be as good enough here on the screen as it is in my head. There continue to be some changes in our world and while I fully support them in so many ways, it’s also not always going to be easy to adjust them.
Let’s start with Aidan. As I write this, he is now 21. Totally mind boggling to me. From not wanting kids forever, to struggling to get pregnant and then to his birth in 2004, it seems nearly impossible that he’s 21. That in itself is change. He took his last exam of his junior year in college today. Normally, that would be an indicator that we will see him in just a day or two. Not this year. I love this for him, but it will be an adjustment to him staying in Maine over the summer. It’s good for him in so many ways, and I’m beyond proud of how he is living his life. It’s just going to be an adjustment. But we’re ready to handle it. I think. No, we are.
It was good to see Aidan a couple of weeks ago when he came home. His girlfriend joined the trip and it was just good to sit around and talk over pizza, fries and onion rings. Aidan is going to be successful no matter what he does. His work ethic is unsurpassed (um, doesn’t get that from me) and he just sees things differently and can teach himself to build or run just about anything. He’s working three jobs this summer, living on campus and just doing things the right way. Proud. So very proud.
We’ll see him again in a few weeks because he’ll be home for Erin’s graduation. Yeah. That. She turns 18 on June 10, and she graduates on June 11, just about 30 days from now. Hard to fathom. And then, come late August, she’ll be off to college and true empty nesting begins. That’s an entirely separate discussion. But we are definitely ready for it. Because of the kids involvement in the marching band, beginning with Aidan in grade seven, Renee and I haven’t had a free fall weekend since 2016. That’s about to change, and that’s a good thing.
Renee thinks Erin being at school is going to hit me pretty hard. I don’t think she’s wrong. One of the little things I think about? For virtually every day since 2009, I’ve had one or both kids in the car with me in the morning. I’ve loved it. Thankfully, my commute is pretty short, so I won’t have too much time to think about it. But, yeah, I’ve thought about that. A lot.
I’m also going to miss unplanned daily interactions. I’m blessed to work at the high school where Aidan graduated from and where Erin’s about to graduate from. Sometimes I know when I’ll see her on campus. For example, tomorrow we have lunch plans in our student-run restaurant. That will be special. But then there’s stuff like today. I saw her twice on campus when I didn’t expect to see her at all. It’s those little moments that mean the most. Those will be impossible to replace.
If you’re still reading, thanks for sticking around. I hope you didn’t expect Pulitzer Prize winning work, at least on my first blog back. In due time.
Another benefit of my job is that I’m the co-chair on two big end-of-the-year events, including graduation. So, you can’t really get much more involved than I am, and I do not take that for granted. Ever. It puts me right in the action, and it’s awesome. It also means that I’ll be able to position myself right at the base of the stage when Erin comes off with her diploma. No doubt a special moment awaits.
It was also an incredibly special moment when Renee retired a few years ago after 31 years of teaching. Incredibly proud of her. She constantly put in the work, and I feel like she went out at the top of her game. She wasn’t hanging on like some teachers do. The change was immediately noticeable and I’m grateful she’s found ways to fill her time with activities that are far less stressful. She’s earned it.
The next question, then, becomes when can I retire? I’m 55 (same as Renee) and we’ll have one year with both kids in school. After that year, it’s really just about trying to figure out how to pay for insurance. We have enough money, but it’s not really accessible until were 59.5. We’ve worked our asses off to be in a position to retire and enjoy life. A few tweaks in our planning years ago, and it’s likely that I’d be retired now. too. Again, in due time.
The whole money thing is a big deal for us. While we got hooked through Dave Ramsey, we still follow some of his original principles while taking pieces of information from others to make the best future we can for each other. I’ll be working at least for the first year both kids are in college. Beyond that? I don’t even know. Maybe I can. Maybe I can’t. It’s nice to think about though. Sometimes I mention it and people can’t believe it’s an option for me (and therefore us). But it is, or it soon will be. I’m always happy to talk money and how some simple (yet disciplined) planning can make a huge difference in someone’s life.
This really isn’t how I expected this to end, but here we are. It’s falling flat right in front of your eyes. Blogs aren’t meant to be perfect, especially not when it’s been nearly four years between entries.
Now that we’ve arrived here, there’s really no turning back. My mother wanted me to write regularly. I should try to honor that. One, just because. Two, I actually enjoy writing here. But let me ask you this. If I am back here with any type of regularity, what would you like to read about? What could I possibly write here that would interest you? Name the topic. I’ll take it from there. And if you’re still here, thanks for sticking me through this one. I do appreciate it.
I’m back…well, at least for one.
Posted: December 9, 2021 Filed under: Uncategorized Leave a commentI know. You’re surprised to find me here. Join the crowd.
I didn’t expect to find me here either. At least not now. But, it’s true. I’m here. And, thankfully, so are you. I say thankfully because this isn’t about me. It’s never really been about me. I mean the writing is. Mostly because I find it therapeutic in a way. But what has always surprised me (humbled me?) is when one of you makes a comment about something I wrote and that it made a difference for you. I’ll be honest, that was never the intent, but once I found out it was happening, it became nothing but a good thing.
A few people have asked me recently about my return to this space. I think I knew it would happen, I just wasn’t sure what would get me here. Honestly, I’m still not sure. I think my point is I’m more about an experience or a moment. I’m not good on day to day stuff, at least in terms of blogging. For here, for me, and therefore for you, it’s really always been about that moment or that experience.
And, honestly, the way today started, I wouldn’t have expected it to be a blog worthy day, but it’s the way it ended and how it all came together that brought me here. One of the amazing things about being here? I even remembered my password on the first try. I’m already winning.
I started my day in a room of high school seniors. I was part of a group of adults there to work with them on networking and creating connections. This was in a class to help prepare kids for the workforce and learning the necessary soft skills to be successful.
The truth is, I hate networking. There are few things in this world that scare me more than walking into a room or an environment with people I don’t know. Surprising based on my work? Maybe. But it’s true.
However, what I value — perhaps as much as anything — is the notion of connection. Establishing and building the relationship
It was a great experience, and the kids did a fantastic job. Far better than I could have done at 17. One of the things I told them centered more around connection than networking. To me it’s deeper than that. I just told them how the world constantly get smaller, never burn a bridge and realize that it doesn’t take much this day and age to be connected with someone. And when you have that connection, value it, mostly because you never know — you just never know — when you’ll rely on that person in the future for something — be it work-related or not.
And that’s how my day melded together — connection. That’s because tonight (or last night as you read this), I spent a few hours with two of my dearest friends from high school. I didn’t see the connection (see what I did there?) between these two elements of my day until I started thinking more about it.
And then it hit me. What I did today is an example of what I talked about this morning — connection.
My two friends and I have an irreversible bond. It’s been that way for a long time. The irony — at least a bit — is we were friends in high school, but we weren’t as tight as we are now. That happened after high school. Why? Connection or common ground. Or, connection based on common ground. There’s a difference.
I don’t really care for the reason. I don’t. What matters so much to me is that I have those relationships — and that I have a connection (there’s that word again).
I’m not sure I really need to tell you about the benefit of having friends that you see only a few times a year, but no matter when you do see them, you fall right back in line like it’s 1985. Except it’s not. And while the initial connection is what links us, it’s the growth of the friendship an the bonds that have strengthened us. These are people who have supported me in trying times, and for whom I have done the same.
You probably have people like this, too. And for that I’m glad. You should be so lucky to have these two as friends. I know for sure that I am.
So as I was driving home tonight, I was wondering about those high school seniors. This networking project was to help them establish connections in a very short window of time that may assist them as they move forward. But I wonder if they also have the connections like I do that help them do more than just build a relationship, but cherish it.
I see it in my kids — one a senior and one a freshman. They each do it their own way, which has taken me a while to appreciate. But, the point is, I believe relationships mean a lot to them — they just show it in different ways.
And that’s part of what I told the seniors today, too. Show yourself for who you are. Don’t be someone else. Be you. And find a way to set yourself a part, because once you can do that, you can do anything — from networking to even making a deeper and more meaningful (wait for it) connection.
That’s all for now. I’m not sure when I’ll be back, but I’m grateful for your continued support.
Strange times indeed…
Posted: March 23, 2020 Filed under: college, family, me, random Leave a commentI bought butter at a gas station.
That’s something that never happened before, and, God willing, will never happen again.
It really wasn’t a panic purchase. It was more of being resourceful. At least that’s what I’m telling myself. (I actually think I’m right, but you never know.)
It was a week or so ago, and there was shopping to be done. That was my job. I had heard about the toilet paper situation (which I still don’t get). I figured bread would be low (it was gone save for a few loaves of cinnamon raisin something or other). There wasn’t much meat. Butter was on the list, so I went there next. Nothing.
Driving home from the store, I thought, well, the gas station has everything, maybe I’ll find success there. And, lo and behold, it had Land ‘O Lakes. Mission accomplished. We had butter.
I’ve been to the store a few times in total and the most recent trip had things (except toilet paper still) pretty well stocked, so that was a good sign. Now, when I go to the gas station again, I’m hopefully the only thing I’ll be purchasing is a full tank of regular unleaded.
But, yeah, these are strange times.
The kids are adapting to life at home, thanks in part, I believe, to a schedule we put them on Day 1 (which they helped design). Renee is home and transitioning to official distance learning tomorrow. Tonight, she said it was like being a first-year teacher all over again. Well, those kids are pretty lucky to get a first-year teacher like her.
My work has been busy and full of action, though clearly not to the level it would be if I was still involved in healthcare. While I’m incredibly grateful for the job I have, and I believe I’ve been a valuable asset in how the school has managed this scenario so far, I also find myself thinking a few times a day about my former colleagues, many of whom are on the front line of this. I knew how incredible most of them were when I worked at the hospital. Now, even more so. I think about them. I pray for them.
I refuse to look at my 401K. Long term, we say to ourselves, and that’s true. Long term. We’ve got good jobs, great kids, roof over our head. Truly blessed.
While I always try and live in the moment, you can’t help but think about the next few months. Now that I’m in education, I worry about kids missing great field trips, a prom, time with their friends, spring sports and even graduation. Not all are off the table yet, but with each day the odds don’t get any better. In fact, just a few hours ago, the Governor said schools will be closed another month. It’s the right call, but tough.
Erin is missing out on an all-state music experience and her state gymnastics meet. She understands, but I feel for her. And all of the others missing that and more.
Aidan? Well, don’t get much out of him, but we were going to take off for a few days over April break to look at colleges, if you can believe that. And, he’s been invited to the senior prom — as a sophomore (that’s my boy!). I remain hopeful. At least part of me does.
Renee and I? Well, we were planning a party in April that’s going to be cancelled. That’s no big deal. We got our taxes back, and we owe. That just doesn’t seem like a big deal right now.
I miss sports immensely, though I’ll be honest, I’ve soured so much on baseball this off-season that I hope absence will make the heart grow fonder and bring me back to the game I love. Though I will also say I’ve enjoyed the classic replays of great games on TV recently. That’s been a walk down memory lane. Funny how even when you know how a game ends, it can still give you thrills every time.
When is it going to end? That’s the great unknown. Watch these idiots that aren’t doing anything to protect themselves — and each other — and you wonder.
Not to get political. But if you want to beat Trump, the answer isn’t Biden. It’s Fauci.
We ordered take out tonight. It was so strange to go to a place that has a constant flow of customers and walk right in, past nobody, to get a pizza. Doing our part? Maybe. But is it enough?
So many unknowns. So many questions. So much left to figure out. I’m not scared. Truly. I’m not anxious. I’m more miffed than anything else. That something like this could happen. That people can be so careless and so caring at the same time.
You learn a lot about people in times like this.
The biggest thing I’ve learned — that at the time was a game changer?
That you can buy butter at a gas station.
It’s always about death…
Posted: August 20, 2019 Filed under: Uncategorized Leave a commentMore death. That’s why I’m here. Well, I suppose it’s not really about death — but it’s about death making me understand what this is about. I’ll try to explain. But bear with me. After all, it’s been more than two years since I’ve posted — so the blogging portion of my life (which goes back 13 years!) is a bit rusty.
I suppose this is about life — living life. It’s just ironic that it takes death to figure things out sometimes.
They say things happen in threes. Odd how these things work, but you can’t really argue with it. Within the last few weeks, three long-term friends of mine have lost a parent. Each case is unique, and each case sucks. But each case also brought me together with some very important people — and I suppose that’s my focus.
The first death was the father of a friend I’ve known since first grade. In other words, I’ve known this woman and her family for almost 45 years. I didn’t know her dad well, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that I was there for my friend, her sisters and her mom. You always wonder what people know and recall. Well, when I was in the receiving line, my friend’s mom was commenting on all things related to my kids — because she knows them through Facebook. It was just funny.
The service was small, but I was glad to be there with two dear friends, friends I’ve known since high school and friends who have been there for me during my times of loss. The three of us had a bond with our mutual friend. Maybe things aren’t as tight now as they have been, but none of that mattered when it mattered most. We were there for each other. Period.
The second recent death was the mother of someone I’ve also known since first grade. In fact, he was in the same class as my friend from above who lost her dad. And this friend’s mom was another key part of growing up. She was a colleague of my mom, and she also served as my confirmation sponsor. I didn’t go to the funeral, but I arranged for a gathering the next night with my friend and four other guys, all of whom who have known each other forever.
What made this a bit unique is that the five of us hadn’t seen our friend who lost his mom in more than 30 years. Life takes us all on different paths and his has been a challenging one, yet the focus of the night was the progress he has made. Real progress. Clear to see progress.
We talked about that. It would have been odd not to. But we also shared memories and stories, and we laughed. A lot. While he has been through some dark periods, for this moment, all of us were back to a time where none of that mattered. All that mattered was the laughs and the stories and the friendship. Kind of like now. He left a couple days after that, and I honestly don’t know when the next time I’ll see him is, but I know if we all get together again, the focus will be on the good, with laughs to go around.
I decided to write this on the way home tonight from the third memorial of sorts. This was a night to pay tribute to the mother of a friend I’ve known since high school. In fact, she’s one of the people that was with me at the funeral that started this tale. I only see this friend a few times a year, two or three maybe. Yet here we are, within the last month, seeing each other twice. Because of death.
But what it did was bring a group of people together tonight. People I go back 30-plus years with (and even more in some cases). And when those kind of people are together, well, it’s a good thing — despite that it’s usually a bad thing that brings you together in the first place. That’s just the phase of life we are in. Parents are dying. First it was weddings that brought us together, now it’s funerals.
A couple of the people I was with tonight are unique in the fact that while we went to high school together, our relationships have gotten stronger in the more than 30 years since. And I love that. I love that we are closer now than we were then. And I love that we’re there for each other.
In part of the conversation tonight, the status of another friend’s parent came up. And all indications are that it won’t be a long, long time before we are together again, like we were tonight. Our vow was to not wait for that moment. To try and be together more often — and in happier times. It’s not always easy — especially when folks are in different states. But what made me happy was the desire to do that — to want to that, whether it’s doable or not.
Maybe you don’t have a ton in common now, but it doesn’t matter. You share so much and you have so many memories to fall back on that it can fill in the blanks. We laughed hard tonight. We might see each other before our next “required” time together, or we might not. What matters most is that bonds remain strong, and no matter where life takes us, there are people we can count on, that we can laugh with and that we can share with. Always.
It takes more than time to heal.
Posted: June 11, 2017 Filed under: dad, death, erin, family, me, Mom, tim Leave a commentTime heals all wounds. Sounds nice. But I’m not sure I believe it. In fact, I don’t. Because I’m living proof. It takes more than time. At least it did for me.
When my Dad died in 2000, it sucked. Trust me. It still sucks. But that wasn’t the moment that really challenged me.
That moment came 10 years ago — to the day as I type this (June 11). That’s the day I got the call from my brother Tom that his twin, my brother Tim, had collapsed in rural Massachusetts and was being transferred to a hospital in Springfield and that things “didn’t look good.” Oh, and that I should get there as soon as possible.
Well, normally, that would be easy to do. The challenge this time was that when I took the call from Tom, I was already in a hospital for an absolute joyous moment — the birth of our beloved Erin Margaret. She arrived early enough the day before, the morning of June 10, that Renee and I were actually getting ready to be discharged when Tom called. His call just sped up the process.
Many of you know this story. For those that don’t, it’s all here on the blog, but essentially, the month of June, prior to last year, looked like this for me.
June 10 — Erin born
June 11 — Tim collapses
June 12-15 — basically a blur with Tim on life-support until my nephew gets home from Iraq
June 16 — nephew gets home, Tim comes off life support
Oh, and that’s right. Father’s Day is around this time, too, so due to all this, the memories of Bob come flooding back.
As if that wasn’t a challenging week enough, my Mother died June 13 last year. So, this year, my previous June hell week becomes a bit rougher, especially on the first anniversary of her death. It could have really made this an absolutely horrific week for me.
It hasn’t. And for that I am immensely proud.
Please, don’t misunderstand. Today was tough. The 13th will be tough. The 16th will be tough. Father’s Day will always be tough.
Tough is one thing. I can handle tough. And that’s the point. I’ve learned how. But it took me a long time. Before I learned, I was miserable. I had some very dark times in my life. From this point 10 years ago til 2010, so a total of three years. I was in the most challenging point of my life. I was letting loss overtake me in many ways.
It would go like this. Dad’s birthday in July, must be miserable because he’s not here to celebrate. January was rough because Tim’s birthday is that month. It’s also the month in which Dad died. June. Oh, June. Erin’s birth, which should be so joyful, ‘ruined’ by Tim’s collapse and death. Get right through that and then it’s Father’s Day. Oh, that’s right, my father’s dead.
It was brutal. I couldn’t escape the cycle. Thank goodness I did because adding Mom’s death into that mix would not have been a good situation.
But, I made the call year’s ago. I’ve written about it. I made the call to the Employee Assistance Program through work. That was the best phone call I ever made. I’m not sure I can say that it saved me, but it sure did change me. For the better.
I know I wasn’t myself during those few years. Some of you as much as told me that.
But, now, I can look back on it and celebrate the success. So why am I writing about this? One of the things I learned in counseling was how to anticipate the moments that would negatively affect me and then deal with those emotions. My triggers were similar. And if I could understand them and deal with them, then I can handle situations much better than focusing on the absolute negative.
Because that’s what I was doing. Only focusing on the negative. And it was bringing me down. Way down.
So this year, being the 10th anniversary of Tim and the first anniversary of Mom, there was the opportunity for a lot of triggers. But, I anticipated them. Found a way to deal with them and accept them. And, I thought, you know what, I have things to say. I need to blog. And one of those things — and perhaps the most important thing — is that I’m proud of myself.
You could have been dealing with a very different me this week.
Now, please, don’t get me wrong. I’ll have some sadness this week. How could I not? But the key is that I will also have perspective and understanding. I will also find ways to utilize this week to remember happy times. My Mother, as many of you know, left letters behind when she died. I’ve read that letter twice already this week, and I’m sure I’ll read it again. And again.
When Tim died, there was a huge outpouring of emotion from his work. Those people showed a completely different side of him I didn’t know existed. So I’ve read some of that, to be reminded of the person I didn’t know as well, but wish I did.
And, on Father’s Day, while I am incredibly blessed to be Aidan and Erin’s Dad, it reminds me now of how blessed I am to be Bob’s son. It’s not negative any more. It can be sad. And it should be — to a degree. It just isn’t negative. I’ve let it be too negative in the past.
And, on this occasion, in a week that offers so many memories, emotions and feelings, I am reminded of how grateful I am — and for how proud I am — for picking up that phone, putting pride aside, and asking for help.
Doing that has allowed me to relive memories and cherish them as a way to honor my family. Whereas, before, I was allowing the death of my family members to consume me and to take away the positive memories and influences and impacts they had on my life. It was all about the negative.
It wasn’t easy, but it was worth it. So incredibly worth it.
A Teenager Among Us.
Posted: May 8, 2017 Filed under: aidan, family, kids, me, parenting, Uncategorized 1 CommentDear Aidan,
Happy birthday! Hard to believe you’re a teenager today. Though now that you are taller than me, maybe it shouldn’t be that hard to believe. As I look back on your life so far, I am filled with immense pride and joy. After all, it is somewhat ironic. For the first part of our marriage, Mom and I never really considered having kids. It wasn’t for us. Or so we thought. Thankfully, over time, our opinions changed. And, while there was definitely a time when we couldn’t imagine ourselves as parents, it’s certainly safe to say now that we couldn’t imagine ourselves not as parents. We are so thankful and blessed for the joy you and Erin have brought into our lives.
And it’s those moments, Aidan, or at least some of them, that I’d like to share with you for your birthday. For the next few minutes, I want you to read about moments in your life that I remember well — for whatever reason. And, I’ll try to tell you what those reasons are as we go through the list. Sometimes the reasons are obvious. Sometimes not so much. In honor of you reaching the teenage years, I’ve got 13 things to share with you. It certainly could have been a longer list. So many options! But, alas, because you turn 13 today, I thought that was a good number to start with. Here goes!
- I saw an ad in the paper today for the “Day out with Thomas” event down in Essex. It brought me back to your early years so quickly! How you loved Thomas the Tank Engine! We watched the show all the time! We took you to Essex to see Thomas years ago. And, Aidan, you loved to build tracks. We had so many of the engines and so much track. (We still have them, in fact, because Mom refuses to let them go!) You would take such good care of those engines, lining them all up in so many different ways. Just like you would build tracks. You would always try to use all the pieces we have (and you usually did!). There was a period of time where track was set up in our living room for months on end. And, to be honest, sometimes I wish we could take out the track and build one — just like we used to do all the time.
- When you weren’t building tracks and running engines, you were working on puzzles. If the floor wasn’t covered with track, it was covered with puzzles (and sometimes both!). Sometimes you would have 10 or 12 puzzles out, completed and decorating the floor. The ones I remember vividly were the state puzzles. You learned your states by doing puzzles. That was always fun to watch. Even now, when you work on a puzzle, your brain just works differently than mine (in a good way!) You may not know this, but I’ve always been envious of your ability to solve puzzles.
- I love the holidays with you. And one of the main reasons why is our manger set. You know the significance of that in our family, the fact that it’s more than 50 years old. You know how much it meant to me when I would work with my Dad on putting it together every Christmas. For the past few years, you’ve always been a great helper — especially bringing the wise men closer each day. However, this year, you really took to it in your own way, setting up so much of it with me just watching. You knew what you wanted to do, and it looked great. How could I complain? You never met your Papa O. That frustrates me so much. But, what makes me happy are little things like working on the manger that help to establish that family connection.
- Speaking of family connections….I’ll never forget how much you used to protect your sister when she was a newborn. No matter where we went, you had your big brother radar on — in a big way. You’d be walking with Mom and me and someone would come up to the stroller to get a peak at your sister. You had other plans for those people. That’s because you would cover Erin in the stroller and not let anyone see her. Yes, it was rude, and we had to work around that, much to your chagrin. But, despite that, as I think back on it, those moments, for me, really show how much you cared about your sister then — and still care for her now. I know you don’t like to show emotion (if at all), but you have started to show her more respect and love through your actions. And for that, we are grateful.
- Staying with the family connections theme for a bit, I used to smile so much when you’d come to the cemetery with me when you were younger. You were so good there. Not only would you help me set up baskets at family graves, but you would also often fix the flags on the graves of veterans. And, you would also straighten up memorial baskets on other graves, too. I think you know the importance of the cemetery to me, so it gives me great pride when you help now, and when I think back of you fixing flags and baskets when you were much younger.
- Music has become such a part of your life. In fact, I think it’s appropriate that you’re playing in a concert tonight on your birthday. That trumpet is such a part of you, and I so love to hear you play. It’s been a pretty amazing journey to watch you progress so quickly in such a short period of time. I’ll never forget your first solo, Aidan. It was during the Christmas concert held at St. Pat’s. You performed When the Saints Go Marching In. And you were flawless. What you don’t know about that night is how much stress I was under — first of all because of the strike situation at work and secondly because my godfather was dying. It was a very hard time for me. But in that moment, at St. Pat’s, I was beaming with absolute pride and could forget about all the negative going on around me when you stood up and absolutely nailed your first solo!
- The next two memories are about music, too. That’s what happens when it takes up so much of your life. The next solo you conquered was at the school Flag Day ceremony later that year. Sister Regina asked you to play during the ceremony organized by your fourth grade class. And play you did! You did five songs, all while being the center of attention as the entire school population stood around you. It was an absolutely amazing moment for you, Aidan, one I still think about quite a bit as you continue this journey with band.
- Fast forward to seventh grade, and we are absolutely amazed (and proud!) when you are asked to join the high school marching band. Mom and I didn’t know what to expect, and we’re not sure you did either. This was new to all of us, but you took it and made it such an important part of your life. You practiced so hard, and we were introduced to an amazing new culture, so much so that I can’t imagine not having band in our lives. I remember the moment from this year that made me the most proud. I bet it will surprise you because, in fact, it was a time when you weren’t even playing your instrument. At your home competition, you were chosen, as a seventh grader, to be one of the escorts for a visiting band. You did so with such pride and confidence. I know, I got to see you up close when I was working the gate and you brought the band to the field area. Nobody would have known you were in seventh grade. That’s part of what I’ll always remember, that and how you carried yourself that night. So impressed.
- And while you are already getting yourself familiar with life in high school, you know how important your time is at Sacred Heart School. When I think of you at SHS, I often think of Sister Regina. I know how special you were to her — and I know how special she was to you. She relied on your help so much. And you were always there to help her in any way possible. That’s such a commendable thing. When she needed something done, she came to you, just as many still do, but it was Sister Regina who first, I think, really got you focused on school pride. I know it was sad for you when she died, but I also know she made such an impression on you. I have no doubt you will always carry a part of her legacy with you.
- Because of all the work you did for Sister Regina, it has led me to jokingly refer to you as the Mayor of Sacred Heart from time to time. Obviously our whole family is involved with the school, but it’s clear how much the teachers rely on you for help. Mom and I hear this all the time, but we also see it when we are at events and you are always one of the last kids there. You are always focused on finding a way to help clean up or do something to make the school a better place. St. Michael’s was such an important part of my life, Aidan, that it gives me great pleasure to know you care so much for Sacred Heart. Sending you there was probably one of the best decisions Mom and I have ever made.
- Speaking of Sacred Heart, it’s been fun to see you involved as an altar server at church. You have become the go to man when it comes to this! You seem to serve all the school masses, and you always do such a great job at regular Sunday masses. It’s clear to Mom and me that you take great pride in your work. You’ve trained your sister and helped others learn more about it, too. We love hearing your interest in serving special masses like First Communion and Graduation. And your knowledge has paid off a few times when you’ve known where some things are at church that Mom and I didn’t even know existed! You are valued and respected there, and it makes us very proud.
- Things haven’t always been easy for you when it comes to health stuff. While you have been blessed with overall good health, you’ve endured so many appointments surrounding your allergies and asthma. You’ve had more ear infections and cases of bronchitis than anyone should ever have. You’ve had two sets of stitches and an operation that you don’t remember. And, a few years ago, you were incredibly sick during the Easter season that required a not so pleasant trip to the ER and your first experience with a suppository. Through all of that, no tears. Just one tough kid.
- Tears, however, are the focus of this last memory, Aidan. You probably are thinking I’m crazy to end this with a memory of you crying. But, I can’t help it. I have never been as proud of you as I was during that moment. It was just about a year ago. Mimi O passed away. She had been sick for a while. You knew that, and I think you understood it. I can remember you sitting next to her on her couch and helping her with iPad. She loved you so much. I’ll never forget, before you were born, Mimi O and Aunt Lynn drove to Backus in the middle of the night because they were so excited for your impending arrival. They ended up going home for the night and then coming back the next morning. Mimi O was so excited to meet you. And, when she passed, you were strong — until the funeral. As you know, I was a mess, crying virtually all the way through the service. I was so thankful that you cried. I felt you had been holding things in. You weren’t letting go any of your emotions in any way. And then, at the funeral, you were overcome. I was so proud of you. That took great strength to show that side of you. To show that your feelings were real. We tried to talk to you a few times about how you felt. You were never interested. But, at that moment, you showed us. And I’m so glad you did. Don’t ever shy from your emotions, Aidan. They help determine who you are.
That’s the thing about this, Aidan. You aren’t a kid any more. You are an incredible young man that gives us great pride every day. Sure, you give us frustration, too. That’s part of being a teenager. We understand that. You’ve asked a lot lately why Mom and I are interested in certain aspects of your life, and why we care about certain things. As we’ve told you, it’s because we care about you and we love you. All of these moments, all of these experiences, help build not just who you are, but who you will be. So much is ahead of you. So many experiences await you. So many opportunities. I can’t help but be excited for you and whatever adventure lies ahead.
Until then, Mom and I will be right here. Always ready to help you, support you and love you. Happy birthday, buddy!
Love,
Dad
Mom.
Posted: July 4, 2016 Filed under: dad, death, family, me, parenting, tim, Uncategorized 1 CommentIt’s been three weeks since “the real Jackie O” died. I knew I would get here eventually. Heck, based on some of the comments I’ve had from a few of you, you knew I’d get her eventually. I just didn’t think it would take this long.
And, now that I’m here, I’m not sure I know exactly what to say. So for those of you looking forward to reading this, I hope I’m not going to disappoint you. But then again, this isn’t about you. Or about me. In this case, it’s about her. And that’s what matters most.
So that’s what I’ll talk about — at least for now. There will be plenty of time in the future for me to talk about other things. Stuff like, you know, how I’m now a member of the “no living parent” club. Trust me, it’s not a club you want to join. I’m not sure there’s one person who is happy to be a member of that club.
I suppose you expected me to be here sooner because of all my previous writings about death. Afterall, I’ve gotten to be pretty good at it. Again, not something I’m proud of or something I’m excited to be good at. It just means I’ve had my fair share (well, clearly fair isn’t the right word here) of it to deal with. And this is how I’ve dealt with it. Here. In this space. So why change now?
I guess that’s my point. Maybe I thought things had changed when Mom died. Maybe I didn’t need to be in this space. Well, doesn’t matter. Because here I am. And, well, here you are, too. And, by the way, thanks for that.
Some of you know this, some of you don’t. Bear with me if you’ve heard some of it before.
When my Dad died 16 years ago, I wasn’t there. Renee and I were living in Vermont at the time. It was Super Bowl Sunday when my brother Tom called and said things “didn’t look good” and that we “should come home” as soon as possible. Dad had been sick. Hospice was involved. We knew we were getting close, but this happened fast. I had planned to go home that weekend, but he actually told me not to. So much for listening to your parents. We got things together as quickly as we could and got in the car for the drive home.
We didn’t make it in time. Rather than be home with everyone else, I found out that my Dad died while in a phone booth in Greenfield, MA. We stopped for gas, and I called home to let them know our status. It was too late, my brother Tim said.
Not being there floored me. Catholic guilt to the hilt. It took a long, long time for me to get over that. Therapy played a big part in that, too. It just really affected me — more than I would let on or acknowledge.
The other thing that really bothered me — and had my head spinning for years — was something we learned after Dad died. One of the nurses told us that Dad wanted to write letters to each of us. Again, floored. I wish I hadn’t heard that. Because then I wouldn’t have spent so much time wondering what would have been in that letter. Never have I wanted so desperately to receive a letter. I wish, in hindsight, that I never knew he wanted to do that.
So, what does this have to do with Mom? After all, I did say this was going to be about her.
Well, two things.
First, I wasn’t there when Mom died. And I’m OK with it. Honest. Here’s the thing. My sister and brother weren’t there either. Once we got hospice involved, we started a basically round-the-clock watch in her room. We had great support of family and friends, but of the three of us, we tried to be there as often as possible — ‘just in case.’ In fact, in her last few days, those of us not there got the call to come down twice as ‘things were close.’ But, the real Jackie O had other ideas. Despite there being times when I sat and prayed in her room and told her it was OK to go, that we were going to be OK, nothing. In fact, the last time I told her that was on Monday, June 13, just before I left after covering the overnight shift.
A few hours later, I was at work when my sister called. “It’s over,” she said. And three minutes later I was in the car en route to the nursing home. Even though my sister called me from there, she wasn’t there when Mom passed. And either was my brother. Mom had a plan. And it was clearly for none of us to be present when she passed. She wasn’t alone. She was with her best friend, who said the end was simple and peaceful. But after hearing stories and talking to people about these moments, I am absolutely convinced this was my Mom’s plan. My sister was en route. But she passed right before she got there. She spent her whole life trying never to burden her children with anything. And this was the last example of that. Not burdening us with being there in her final moments. Not having one of us there or two of us there. She did it her way. And would you really expect any different?
The other thing….and this is what completely slayed me. The real Jackie O had everything set and ready for us. We knew what songs she wanted at the funeral. We knew if there was a wake (“you can have one, but nobody will come,” she wrote), what she wanted. We knew so much because she left a book for us. A book filled with logistical things about the arrangements, but also a book filled with memories, important moments and a host of other things she wanted to share with us. It was an absolute treasure and unbelievable gift for her to leave us. The cover had a note on it that said, “To be opened immediately upon my demise……Mumsie.” Can’t make this up.
But here’s where it gets incredible. Remember the letters my father wanted to write? Well, guess what? Yup, Jackie O wrote them. One for Tom. One for Lynn. One for me. What a gift. Part of me wanted to open it right away. But I waited. I waited until we were home later that night. The kids were in bed. Renee was doing some work. I just took the letter into the living room, opened it up, and was immediately overcome with emotion reading her words.
We have never been a verbal family. We just weren’t. So this was perfect. So very perfect. In three pages of her best handwriting, she praised me, scolded me, apologized to me and taught me. It was an unbelievable act of parenting. One last time. In her words. In her voice. I’ve read that letter no less than 25 times now. I hear her voice as I read along. I suppose that will always be the case.
Renee has read it. And that’ll be it. I won’t share it with my siblings. We’ve shared themes and what not, but we won’t share the letters. Far too personal. We don’t know when she wrote them. She referenced Timmy dying, so they had to be done in the last nine years. And her writing is pristine, so I’m thinking they were written at least four to five years ago. There’s no date or any other indicator of timing. Not that that matters. It’s just curiosity.
I’m guessing she wrote them shortly after Timmy’s death. Again, we weren’t a very verbal family. I’m guessing there were things she wanted to say to each of us and wanted to make sure we knew certain things, and, well, rather than tell us directly (so not her style), she left us the letters to leave no mistake. There’s a part of me that is hugely frustrated that there are some things in the letter that were never said to me in person. However, there’s a hugely satisfied part of me that knows I have this letter for good. And I can open it anytime I want and not just read her words — but hear her words. It is quite simply my most treasured possession. You know, I’m not sure I knew what that was before Mom died. Probably some piece of sports memorabilia. But now, it’s the letter and nothing else comes close.
Mom was a teacher by trade. And she lived that all the way til the end — leaving us — or at least me — with one last lesson. I hope I can complete it. It’s not an easy one for me. And, it’s even a struggle I have in my own way of parenting. Is it earth shattering? No, it’s not. But if I follow through, it’ll make me a better person, and be it as a teacher or as a parent, isn’t that really what Mom always tried to do — make me/us better?
While you think about that, I’m out of here. I’ve got a letter to read. Again.
Mom.
Posted: June 17, 2016 Filed under: death, family, me, renee, Uncategorized Leave a commentI’m really good at writing eulogies. I’m just not really good at giving them. And there was no better example than today at Mom’s funeral. I tried something completely different, in part as a tribute to her, and in part as a way I thought might help get me through it. So much for that idea.
I was so blown up with emotion that I didn’t even get the first line out before Renee had to come up and finish reading it for me. Thank goodness she’s the rock!
There will be more to come about Mom’s passing. Many have asked certain questions and I can answer a lot of that here at once over time. Stand by for that. Meantime, I had a request to post what’s below, so here it is. The background story is this, Mom taught at St. Michael School in Pawcatuck. Every year, at the last faculty gathering, she would read a poem that recapped the entire year.
So….I thought I’d use that approach for my talk about her. I’m super proud of how it came out….I just wish the words had actually come out of my mouth! 🙂
More to come….but here it is:
My Gift to Mom
It was just about this time, almost every year
when the teachers of St. Michael gathered to hear
thoughts from my mom on the year that was
it’s something she did annually….just because
The thing of it is, if you haven’t figured it out by now
She always did it in rhyme, though they never knew how
She taught this to me, though I’m not sure she knew
And today I’m going to share our combined gift with you
A walk through the past in which you’ll soon know,
There’s a lot more to learn about the real Jackie O
Or to you maybe she’s an aunt, a colleague or a friend
But no matter what she was to you, she was that to the end
And she’ll be it going forward, of that I have no doubt
Her spirit will always be with us, it will never fade out.
She wouldn’t let us have it any other way
The memories we have? They will definitely stay.
So perhaps the first one I share you assume will be a joke.
The only place to start is with her beloved Diet Coke
Come to the house and you better have one in tow
Because, if you don’t, off to McDonalds you’ll go
Cumby’s if you’re in a pinch, Subway soda, too
If it wasn’t McDonalds Diet, she definitely knew.
So to the nearest Golden Arches we always did flock
But without her as a customer, I worry about the stock!
She loved her time at St. Michaels, it brought her great variety.
Toy parades, field trips and her beloved ROT Society.
Live and Learn and Family Dollar brought many stories to share
My favorite? The customer who asked, “Do you sell shoes in pairs?”
Our mother loved Christmas and she loved to have fun.
One year I opened something and it said “Number One Son!”
We always argued who was the favorite, but here was a clue!
The only problem? Minutes later, Tim and Tom opened one, too!
For me there’s more to show that she loved me the best
In fact, I think this clue is more powerful than the rest.
After all, it’s pretty simple, Mom came to consensus
Of her four children, I’m the only one who is ‘Precious.’
Mom lived simply, it’s really all she knew
And once your were her friend, she was your friend, too
She followed what she taught to her students at school
that the best way to live is to follow the golden rule
Do unto others as you’d have done to you
You do it for her, and she’ll do it for you.
She led by example, work hard and get it done
And when and if you finish, then it’s time for fun.
She may have been frugal, but I’d never call her cheap
Like at Christmas time, the bows…those we always had to keep.
She lived within her means, she wasn’t monetarily rich
but I’m not sure there’s one person, with whose life she’d like to switch.
She loved us through and through, she always did her best.
To us she is the greatest mom, better than the rest.
We’re not very affectionate, we rarely say things out loud
She lived a very content life. I have no doubt she was proud.
And now there’s one last thing that I truly must share
For us I know for sure, mom will always be there
Though now there’s a difference, she’s in heaven up above
joining Dad and Tim, and looking down at us with love.
Happy Birthday, Renee!
Posted: February 23, 2015 Filed under: family, renee Leave a commentSo, today is Renee’s birthday. I won’t tell you her age, but it’s no coincidence that this is a list of 45 of my favorite things (in no particular order) about her:
1. She’s beautiful.
2. She grew her hair long – and kept it long.
3. She married me.
4. She puts up with me.
5. She accepts me and all of my ‘things.’
6. She makes us better.
7. She is a fabulous mother.
8. She’d do anything for our kids.
9. She’s a great sister.
10. She makes her parents proud.
11. Her zesty rice lasagna.
12. Her chocolate chip cookies.
13. Her chili.
14. Her sweet rolls.
15. Her oatmeal bread.
16. She likes a good beer.
17. She always makes sure we have good beer in the fridge.
18. She makes an impact on her students.
19. She writes notes to her senior students.
20. She makes an impact on her colleagues.
21. She’s a great reader in church.
22. She’s much more patient than me.
23. She’s the one that fixes stuff.
24. She does the money.
25. She knows how much I value my friends.
26. She doesn’t care what concerts I go to.
27. She goes to Fenway with me once a year.
28. She makes sure we shovel out the mailbox.
29. She became a cross country coach and rocked it.
30. Speaking of rocking it, have you seen her in boots?
31. She understands my new found love of all things Disney.
32. At Christmas, she knows I will not rest until we find the perfect tree.
33. She’s old school where and when it matters.
34. Every now and then, she’ll bring me home a Diet Coke.
35. She doesn’t say anything about my messy closet or desk.
36. She gets the paper from the mailbox each morning.
37. She puts up with my fantasy baseball addiction.
38. She takes care of making sure we’ve got a sitter when we need it.
39. She usually lets me pick what we’re going to do.
40. She’s an awesome role model for Erin.
41. She’s reading Harry Potter with Aidan.
42. She is always thinking of others before herself.
43. She puts up with me (that’s worth mentioning twice).
44. She can name most of the Red Sox from the 70s and 80s.
45. All of the above.
Happy Birthday, Renee! Thanks for making every day better.
I Got Nothin' 