Easter, Jett, and My Dad.

The Spin this week is supposed to be your favorite post, your best post, of the ones you have already done. The key word there is "supposed." This is a new post, but, in the spirit of Easter and new beginnings, I am choosing this as the best one.

When my father died in October, my life went into a tailspin that I truly never saw coming. I new he was ill, I knew he would die soon, but I was totally unprepared for the impact this would have on my life. It sounds so stupid to say that, because it's my DAD for goodness sake, of course it's going to have a huge impact, but I really was blindsided. This is why I have not blogged - I simply could not.

I grew up riding, showing, and eventually training horses. My dad was such a part of that, always not only supporting me, but working side by side with me, so much so that horses and my dad were interwoven and inseparable. I think it was harder to deal with his death because I didn't have any horses - there wasn't any creature who was part of that connection that I could lean my face against and cry until I couldn't cry anymore.

A few weeks ago, my best friend asked me to stop by her classroom on my prep period, she had something she wanted to show me. I had no idea she was going to show me this:

Jett.

Look at that face. Is your heart melting? Mine did.

She explained that he needed a "retirement home." Plenty healthy enough to ride, he just couldn't be shown anymore, and his fabulous owner, Teri, needed a haven for him. MC thought of me. She was there when I couldn't have my last horse anymore (I hurt my back, herniated my L5 disc). She knew how after the physical therapy I was so terrified I wouldn't be able to ride again, and the absolute joy when I could. Most of all, she knew how much I missed it, how I had an empty space.

Thank you, MC and Teri, for my new beginning.

So I am back, a little wobbly, but the emotional bruises are healing. I am slowly but surely pulling my life back together, and this guy is helping me along wonderfully.

Laughter through tears is my favorite emotion.

This week’s Spin is all about laughing – something I do all the time. If I didn't, I be in a corner, drooling into my Ensure.


We cannot really love anybody with whom we never laugh.
~Agnes Repplier

Like everything else in my classroom, even the way we do Shakespeare is nontraditional. Each period breaks into five groups, and each group takes an act of Romeo and Juliet, creating a way to teach their section to the rest of the class. They can read their act any way they wish – take parts, popcorn, or silently read. Most groups take parts, since they are required to re-enact at least one scene in their presentation (ohhhh how I wish I could show you these – talk about hilarious!). The group nearest my desk was acting out the parts when one girl started singing. My head popped up, all quizzical. I asked her why she was singing. She replied, with all the snip and snide only a freshman girl can manage, “Uuuuuuhhhhmmm, my part?!?” “There’s no singing in Romeo and Juliet!” I blurted. Again she drew from the well of incredulousness, “Uuuuuuuuhhhhhmmmm, it totally says ‘Chorus.’”

You can't deny laughter; when it comes, it plops down in your favorite chair and stays as long as it wants. ~Stephen King, Hearts in Atlantis

When my mom was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, my dad had the bright idea to take her on a trip to Texas. He ended up in the hospital. Since he couldn’t exactly watch Mom while he was in the hospital (the IV drip REALLY got in the way), she came home and Dad asked me to come home, stay with Mom, and help my sister and brother to find an assisted care living facility. The only catch was I had to find this place completely on the sly – Mom was to have NO IDEA she was about to be institutionalized. Right. No stress here.

But, I did my best, lying through my teeth about where I was going every day. I thought Mom might suspect something because she remarked that she certainly didn’t know that I had SO many friends, but she never seemed upset and she never cornered me, firing accusations and questions that I was NOT about to answer. Oh, wait, that was 11th grade. Apparently, Mom was calling Dad (who she thought was still in the hospital), and giving him a very hard time. This prompted a secret 4-way phone call between my dad, one of my brothers, my sister, and myself. I’m pretty sure the Treaty of Versailles took less finagling to work out than getting us all on the phone without Mom knowing. Dad began by telling us all about Mom’s rough phone calls, and came out and asked us if any of had said anything, since she was specifically accusing him of having a secret plan to put her in an assisted living facility. I know, creepy, since it was true. But I must say the stress, the exhaustion of caring for someone with Alzheimer’s caught up with me and I blurted out, “No Dad, anytime I talk to Mom about it, I always say ‘nuthouse’ or loony bin.’”

There was a pregnant pause. Like a Jon & Kate plus 8 pause.

Then they all started laughing at the same time and my heart started beating again and everything was a little bit okay.

This story sounds awful and funny at the same time. Kinda like it really was.

But now, it isn't, and here's a little proof.



Thanks Katie!