parallel...

Yesterday was a truly ironic sequence of parallels. The poignant, undeniable reality of how precious life is couldn't have been any more clear. My brother and sister in law welcomed their first baby into the world, which in and of itself is a miracle - childbirth always is. It's amazing to see a new being - a new life - come into the world and take its first breaths. By the time I got to hold him, he was just a little over an hour old. His eyes were still scrunched into that newborn squint and he had that addictive newborn smell to his soft skin.

As my mother and I were driving to the hospital, I was suddenly aware that this new life was delivered at the same hospital where my father was pronounced dead. Although it may seem morbid to some that I would draw this connection, it holds so much significance for me... New life is arriving where old life has passed. Walking from the parking lot to the hospital entrance, I lightheartedly joked with my mother that for once she was walking faster than I was. I could tell that she was doing her best to contain herself from breaking into a full sprint through those sliding glass doors and up to the maternity ward to hold her new and first grandbaby in her arms. I smiled inwardly, saving the tears for later, so happy to see my mother so happy, to hear her excitement thrill in her voice.

When we finally got to Amy's room, we quietly knocked on the door and waited for Phil to pull aside the curtain. I was almost overwhelmed by how different he seemed. He was standing just a little taller, his chest was proudly puffed out and yet his voice was so quiet. He was a father. He now knows exactly what it was like for my father to watch as each of us were delivered into the world. He now knows what it's like to immediately fall in love with something with such a deep, desperate affection that it almost hurts.

We walked in and saw Amy serenely holding her baby to her chest as he quietly sucked on her index finger, his puffy eyes just barely open. And then we talked about his name. Henry Jacob. I still tear up hearing it and probably will for a while. My father's namesake. It's so bittersweet because I know how proud he would be, but I so desperately wish he could be here to see this miracle....but I know he's watching from heaven. Amidst all the congratulatory texts and phonecalls I received as a new auntie, one particularly stands out. My aunt said to me in a text that she was so happy for my mother - that she "had a new Henry to love"....and it's so true. We all do.

Mom held Henry for a while, and it was so precious to see her coo and smile at this beautiful new baby boy who so quickly and unknowingly stole all of our hearts. Finally she passed him to me and I was able to revel in the joy of holding my nephew. It was like time flashed before my eyes and I could see him running around the house, wreaking havoc on all things breakable, pushing toy cars along the floor making 'vroom vroom' noises. Thinking on it now, I can't help but draw such a vivid contrast from this baby's soft, warm, unblemished skin compared to the last time I held my father's hand - cold, calloused, lifeless. Although there is still that sadness, it is slowly overshadowed by the joy we have all found in this new life.

Finally, we hesitantly moved toward the door, knowing mother, father and baby needed time to rest and enjoy just being their own family. As we drove back to the house, I realized that it was Tuesday.... Dad had passed away on October 5, 2010.... Tuesday. For me, all these parallels just prove that although he's gone, our father is living on through us and through the values we instill on our growing families. Henry Jacob is living proof of this.

delivery...

My immediate family is in a unique position right now where we're anxiously waiting the arrival of our nephew! My brother and sister-in-law are expecting their first baby boy any day now - her due date is tomorrow, but based on the sounds of things, I have a feeling she's going to be late. My mother and I were talking about the baby the other day and how for so long - nine months actually - we've been talking and talking and talking about the day when Little Knapper (as I like to call him until his given name is revealed) will grace us and the rest of the world with his presence, and all of a sudden it's here! It's like we've been waiting for it for so long that it almost seems like we'll be waiting forever, but then in the blink of an eye so long seems so short.

I'm not a parent yet, obviously, so I can't even begin to relate to the excitement, anticipation, trepidation and pure joy my brother and his wife must be going through right now as they wait.... But on the same level, I am a bride to be, and by the time my wedding comes around, I'll have waited much longer than nine months. It is my own baby in a way because I think about it every day, I work hard so that it can be absolutely perfect, I pine and pine and pine for it until I feel like it will never come. I'll have waited my whole lifetime for that perfect man to complete me and make me the happiest woman in the world. Much like a parent with their child, every bride thinks her wedding is the best.... I have found the love of my life, my second half, the incarnation of my dreams. Of course I think our wedding will be the best because it's ours.

So as we continue to wait for Little Knapper to join us in this world, I continue to count down to the day that will begin the rest of my life....

spirit....

You could say I'm on the fence about ghosts. I like to say that I don't really believe in them, but I can honestly admit there have been times I've been scared of the dark...and whatever lurks within that darkness.

Last September, for my work, I was writing and editing articles about haunted destinations in the United States for the October newsletter. Obviously to understand why they were deemed haunted, I had to do some research on supernatural evidence. One such source described the occurrence of orbs. Orbs are the whitish circular shadows that appear on photos post-development. The critics could argue that they're just dust particles from the lens, but believers attest to the theory that they are the physical evidence of the spiritual existence. That same month, my mother and I were looking at churches to host the wedding ceremony. Like the organized wedding planner that I am, I brought along my camera to take detailed pictures of the buildings so I could refer to them later. One such picture taken at an old 1800's Congregational Church in the center of Uxbridge displayed a whole collection of orbs all around the back of the sanctuary. Completely freaked out that this church was haunted - obviously a convert of my own research - I vowed not to walk down that aisle.

Now, just about everyone knows that my father passed away last October - not long after that church experience - from a massive heart attack. I've had a few unexplained experiences since then including an epiphany for my next story/book that I don't doubt were him.

Just last week, I received a picture from my grandfather in the mail from our birthday party in December - my birthday is the 27th and his is the 28th, so it's been a tradition for us to celebrate together. The picture is Dan, my fiance, and I standing next to Grandpa and Grandma. And just above my head to the right is one single ghostly white orb. Maybe for my own comfort, for the simple assurance that he's still watching over me, I like to believe it's my father's spirit.

valentine

So today is Valentine's Day. I hate to call myself a hypocrite, but up until the actual day, I go on and on about how much I hate the holiday. It's so commercialized. The greeting cards are marked up, flowers are marked up, chocolates are probably marked up... all so that men and women around the world can give in to their guilt-driven obligation to tell their significant other how much they love them because they have to. How romantic. I think it's a silly holiday; I would much rather be surprised by a spur-of-the-moment, heart-felt card and bouquet of flowers on a day when I least expected them. If you say I love you on a day when you have to, does it really have the same meaning? So these are the thoughts and rants that run through my head all the days leading up to Valentine's Day.

The morning of Valentine's Day, I got a text from my fiance at 7am saying 'Will you be my Valentine? I love you. :)' Of course I melted. At work, my office is right next to the reception desk, so I can see everyone that comes in. With every bouquet of roses that came prancing through the door, I have to admit I felt a slight pang of jealousy. But I wasn't expecting anything because I specifically asked for nothing. When the secretary brought a box of ProFlowers into my office and set it on my desk, I couldn't help but break into a smile. No matter how much we say we don't want them, every girl loves flowers. And who wouldn't swoon over a message like this:

"I am the luckiest man in the world because I have you. I can't wait for September 23rd when we get to say those two special words to one another. But for now, three will have to do. I love you."

So all that talk about hating Valentine's Day.... I still think it's silly. But I'm really excited about dressing up and going out to dinner tonight. :)

whisper…

Like an artist with her brush,
A carpenter with his chisel,
Or a sculptor with a ball of clay…

What I see when I look in your eyes
Gives me the courage to show not only
The world, but also myself that I
Am not only good enough, but that
I am good. Your love makes me
Want to be better.

You are my flowing inspiration.

impatient...

Waiting. Tapping my feet, twiddling my thumbs, counting down the days on the calendar like the seconds on the clock. The panic-ridden dreams have already begun - the limousine breaks down, the bouquets have the wrong flowers, we forget the marriage license, I realized at the end of the aisle I've forgotten my garter which satisfies both something old and blue so my chances of luck are completely shot, another wedding is taking place at the same church at the same time. Considering I spent every day thinking about something pertaining to our upcoming wedding, its no surprise that my subconscious is working overtime.

I see friends of mine ridden with excitement as their big day seemingly races forward while my day creeps in the shadows. Not even in the shadows - in the cobwebs in the corner of the shadows. I see my little ticker on TheKnot every day... 225 days sound so incredibly far away. I know it will be here before I know it, and the actual day will be this whirlwind leaving us exhausted and wondering what actually happened. The little details will go unnoticed and in the end...we will be happily married.

But for now, I continue to wait.

friends...

I've come to a conclusion about friends in the context of wedding planning and ultimately the dreaded guest list. Sometimes it takes life-changing events to really help identify who true friends are. I might be in an interesting circumstance here where my wedding is following my father's passing, and I find myself constantly assessing the behavior and relationships of those I consider friends. It's pretty much a daily occurrence where I sit down and think 'should I invite them?' I mean, certain people have made it abundantly clear where we stand on their importance-ometer....

It's probably the same handful of questions that every bride faces up until the day of her wedding, and possibly after. I don't want to be haunted by the fact that I invited this friend over this cousin, or this aunt and not that coworker. In the end, I know it's my wedding and I have every right to make the decisions I do because I want it that way, but just seeing those words - I want it that way - conjures a vision of a frilly, pink-smocked girl standing in a grocery store stomping her white patent-leather Mary Janes on the speckled linoleum because she can't have a piece of candy.

I mean, how far can we brides really take 'it's my day and I'll do what I want.' My mother and I have come to an impass on the topic of the receiving line. After enduring the multiple hours in line after my father's memorial, I simply can't stomach the idea of volunteering myself for something so awful. And I said so in no uncertain terms, but because it's important to show the guests their presence is appreciated, I've been told we have to do something. So we're going to have to be creative...

But back to guests...and friends. I don't want to make people feel badly for not successfully landing on 'the list' but honestly some people have to understand the reason why. If I haven't physically seen you in over a year and we've chatted via text maybe three times in the last six months and I'm always the one initiating the communication, what am I honestly supposed to think.

So, in the end.... I hate the be the brat in the white patent leather sling backs with a bouquet of roses in my hand, but it's my wedding dammit...and I'll do what I want.

step...

I've decided that instead of moping, mourning what can't be changed, I'm going to face this future of mine head on. Will I still grieve? Of course. This is inevitable. But there is more than one way to grieve. I have so much to look forward to, number one being my wedding to an amazing, caring, loving man. For a while there, this wedding and all the planning leading up to it was the only thing holding me together. But it's time to face the truth of life and although there will be hard times, tears, pain, and everything else that comes with the imperfection of humanity, happiness lies beneath it all. Happiness is not only an emotion...it's a state of mind. If we determine to be happy, we will be no matter what obstacles roll across our paths.

I'm tired of being angry, of feeling bitter, of feeling like the world owes me something because something was taken from me. I can only be happy for the blessings I was afforded with and from my father during the time he was alive; I have to cherish these things and forge ahead as I know he would want me to. I am who I am much to the credit of my father, and I'm not going to let him down by allowing the simple facts of life affect my determination to be and do everything I am capable of. I am strong. I am determined. I have heart, ambition, drive. Words I can recall most clearly from my father were those he spoke when we'd whine about having to do something we didn't want to do. "I didn't ask you if you wanted to," he would say. Life doesn't pause to ask us if we want it to go a certain way, follow a certain path. If it did, we might not be the people we are today and that could be a bad thing.

We take one step in front of the other because we know we have to if we are going to get anywhere. Of course I believe that God directs the course of my life and I trust him to lead me in the direction I'm meant to go...but that doesn't mean sitting idle and expecting the world to move along without me having to put some effort into it. After all, the priests carrying the Arc of the Covenant had to step into the rushing River Jordan before God parted the waters and afforded them safe passage across dry ground. We have to have that faith to take the first step. Walking blindly can be the most frightening thing in the world - I can only imagine the fear that must race through my mother's veins when she contemplates the unexpected mystery of her future and I would be lying if I said I didn't fear for her as well. But, my brothers and I are strong. And we will get through this together as a family. Because we can.