Homeless

There was a time when I couldn't walk downtown Northampton or Greenfield without the chance of running into my aunt or uncle.

My homeless, usually buzzed or drunk, aunt and uncle.

My entire life they drifted around the area, never going further than Connecticut, and always coming back to Western Massachusetts. Sometimes they lived together, trying to get by, other times they led completely separate lives.

Both of them, alcoholics. Both of them, wandering through life with no real purpose.

Once in a while, they would come around my grandparents' house, seemingly having put their lives in order, at least to an extent. The facade, the normalcy, would only exist for a short time before the demons caught up and took over once again. In and out of jail, substance abuse programs, rehab, you name it. One moment they seemed to want to take charge of their lives, the next moment they were stealing money and breaking our family's hearts in the process.

I remember one summer evening after work, I was walking to a restaurant in downtown Hamp with a friend. Suddenly, my rail-thin aunt was stumbling down the sidewalk toward me. "Krisss?" she slurred as she enveloped me in a huge, tight hug. I hugged her back, tentatively. I hadn't seen her in 3 years. She somehow didn't look worse for the wear, although I knew she had really only been existing on a liquid diet. She stepped back and took me in with her huge, blue eyes. "You look so much like your mom, my sister. I miss her so much. Are you doing okay?" I was surprised at how coherent she was in that moment, and how much I could see my mom in her. I told her I was doing okay, and then she started giving me her usual lines about how she'd love to get her life on track, but x, y and z was preventing it, and did I know she had a new boyfriend? Although his drinking problem was worse than hers, and he has seizures all the time.

We parted ways and I walked on with my friend, shaken. Over the years, I had to distance myself emotionally from both her and my uncle because they were unreliable and I saw the hurt they caused the rest of the family. Running into them, in the scenario I described above, was unsettling. This was not how normal families were. One black sheep? OK. Two? Sometimes in the same city that I frequented for shopping and eating? It was too much. I could never walk downtown freely without the worry of running into them, and I would feel guilty of my own life when I saw them. Guilty because I had a full-time job, a husband, and a roof over my head. Things one should not have to feel guilty about, but yet, I did, because it felt uncomfortable to be doing better than my older aunt and uncle. It felt uncomfortable that they had been dealt monumental struggles and I had not.

Sadly, both of them met tragic ends. The drinking took over, as we all thought it might, and they both died from it. They could not be saved, and if I told you all the effort that had been put in over the years to try to save them, you would be exhausted.

And you would understand.

Homeless people with substance abuse problems do have families. Families that care very, very much, but who can only do so much before they start hurting their own lives in the process.We loved them, but that was not enough to save them.

Loss

I recently found out that someone I know lost her mother, and I felt my heart constrict .

I know that kind of loss too well. The memories of those feelings are so strong, it could have happened yesterday. It felt like someone reached into my chest and squeezed my heart as hard as they could. It felt like the ground opened up beneath my feet and swallowed me whole with the words "Mom's dead". It felt like I had entered an alternate universe, a world that was never, ever going to look the same.

It still doesn't.

When you lose someone close to you, there are two time periods- the one you spent with them and the one in which you have to continue on without them. The latter is an unbearable thought in the first minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, even years. The grief was so raw, I felt like I was walking around, emotionally naked. No defenses, no cover, from the tidal waves of sadness and anger.

I cried every single day, in my car, on the way home from work, for months after my mom passed, and often on the way into work, too. The grief wreaked havoc on my mind and on my body. Every little thing was a reminder of her- music, places, even the way one of the towns I passed through looked in the evening commute darkness, as I had driven it with her more times that I could possibly count.

Family and friends were patient as they waited for me to come out of the storm. It took a while. Somewhere in there we planned our wedding, and life went on. I was thankful for the people I was surrounded by- they offered love, patience, shoulders to cry on and ears to listen.

That is about all you can do for someone who has lost a loved one- be there for them, and be consistent. They need all the anchors they can get while they weather one of the worst storms of all- the loss of someone they loved, someone they never wanted to picture a day without.

Little Miracles

I can't deny it: it's hard for me to find the beauty in 6 degree winter mornings.

Instead of beauty, I see a 10 year old car that needs sufficient warming up before going anywhere, two kids that I have to wrangle coats, boots, hats and mittens on, and two wood stoves that need to be checked on (more than once, because I am paranoid that my house is going to burn down while I'm away).

We finally get in the car and are on our way to preschool.

As I pull into the parking lot, Buddy exclaims: "Look at the school! It's sparkling!"

Sure enough, it was.

Tiny snowflakes had dotted the side of the pale yellow building and white fence, and the 8:30am sunlight was catching them perfectly. They shimmered and twinkled and sparkled.

We looked around and noticed that the sparkling continued onto the small surrounding snow banks.

All this beauty, right in front of me, that I failed to see because I was too focused on the annoyances surrounding a 6 degree morning. It didn't take me long to also realize the beauty in Buddy saying two clear sentences. For so long, I worried about his speech development. Now, here he was, using his words to show me that magic can still be found, even on cold winter mornings.

Little miracles are all around us if we take the time to listen and look.

2015

Right now, I feel so conscious of the very first days of 2015.

On the first day, I rejoiced in being able to sleep in until 9:30. Thanks, hubby! On the second day, I had the house to myself in the morning and crossed things off left and right on my To Do list. On the third day, I reveled in a spontaneous lunch date with my husband after we learned that a party we were going to attend was cancelled (but we still had babysitters!). We had a gift card, which meant I could definitely order dessert- my favorite- chocolate chip cookie bake.

Have I mentioned that I haven't looked at the scale in a little while? But, I will, today, with school resuming. It was a glorious 2 weeks of not sticking to routine, and getting time to do things and see people and eat delicious food. Today, I will get back on track. I know I will- because I won't give myself any other option!

Unlike previous years, I had no grandiose resolutions in mind heading into 2015. So far, that's turning out okay. I think by not setting my resolutions ahead of time, they have shown themselves in these first few days:

1. I want to spend more un-distracted time with my kids, husband, friends and family. I'm putting my phone in my purse so I'll look at it less.

2. I want to read and write more.

3. I want to find something good in each day, even when the day seems rotten.

4. I want to stay grounded and in the flow of family life even though our evenings are often consumed with meetings of some sort that take Steve or I out of the house.

5. I want to go to Church more.

6. I want to start looking at big picture things again- wills, life insurance, etc. 2014 was the fastest year of my life and was proof that the years can and will fly by. While we can't control everything that happens to us, we can make plans for the future, for home improvement, for anniversary getaways, etc.

I think it's going to be a great year.