You painted me a picture of tomorrow
A place where you and I walked hand in hand
A world without despair and without shadows
But things just didn't turn out how we planned
Now you're gone

And I believe that there is somewhere
Where angels fill the sky
And I believe we'll live forever
You and I, you and I will never die

I wonder if you knew that you were leaving
I though that I saw something in your eyes
You painted me a picture of believing
I'll see you there on the other side
And I'll be there, yes, I will

You and I will never die
You and I will never die
We'll live forever, we'll live forever

(Thank you Jessica C for sending this to me)

Happy

Recently and because of my father's declining health, I've had a few days where there were no words to express the sadness that I felt and I felt like the only option available to me was to cry.  When I was younger I was generally a very happy person.  There were seasons where the frustration of unresolved relationships and a subsequent dissatisfaction of my self  put a weight on my soul that made being my normal jovial self a little more challenging.  However, for the most part, "sad" is not a common way that I would describe myself.

This sadness, I am feeling, is steaming from the idea that my father's health is declining, that he is in pain that he is experiencing confusion and distress.  I evaluated that feeling much further, only to discover that my sadness had very little to do with the state he is in physically.  So many times over the course of the past 13 1/2 years I have known of his pain and his distress.  This current near death experience is so very familiar, you see; he has been here before.  That time he was curled up in a fetal position on the floor in the basement of our home in Southfield, shaking and crying out because he was in pain; the physical gesture of putting his hand on his lower abdomen, just a little to the left after he ate that my sister, Sara and I used to tease him about; the hair loss, the skin irritation, the enamel decay; the bleeding...oh my the bleeding; the amount of time he spent in the bathroom with uncontrollable bowl issues; the ulcers on parts of his body I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy; no, this pain became normal, these conditions are what we have come to expect.

What I am sad about is the idea of the connection between him and my mother being severed.  What I find myself crying about is the fact that my mother will most likely loose her soul mate in the near future and she will, for the second time, have to bury a spouse.  I am sad for her loss, for the pain that she has endured for the past 13 years, watching the man she loves be physically overcome by a incurable illness, having her life interfered with, holidays disrupted; trips to see her children postponed; commitments never to be made because she has bravely stood by her man.  I am sad because she his biggest fan, his greatest source of encouragement; his faith carrier when he couldn't summon up the faith to keep fighting. I am sad because they had big dreams that they dreamed together, they had plans for their future and for the longest time they had hopeful expectations for that future...together.  They had each other...since their early twenties, they have had each other.  I am sad, because soon, she may not have him anymore and I cannot imagine loosing a spouse, having to watch a spouse pass on before you, the pain that is felt, the loneliness that ensues the part of you that dies right a long with them.

This past July 3, my sister Sara and I sat around the table and ate dinner with my parents.  It was their 33rd wedding anniversary.  I also realize that I am scared.  Not of loosing my father - I am gratefully in a place of having been able to say everything I wanted to say to him, hear everything a daughter would want to hear from their father and am happy holding my most fondest memories of him tightly in my soul - I am afraid that I don't know who my mother is without him.  Is it wrong to hope she will finally be able to travel without fear or restriction?  Is it wrong to anticipate relief from waiting for this to all be over?  Is it wrong to be happy that she may tackle that sewing or scapbooking that she has been talking about?  I am afraid she might just shrivel up and that I might loose her.  I suppose these fears and feelings are all normal, but they are causing me to feel sad, in an otherwise very happy soul.

Nathan Invades Apartment #132

17-years ago, my sister, Lori and her husband Phil bought me a train ticket to come visit them in Chicago for the weekend of my 14th birthday.  I traveled alone on this trip for the very first time.  Those many years ago, I promised my sister and brother-in-law that I would entertain their kids on their 14th birthday.

The next two weeks will be entries documenting the first fulfillment of that promise.  Beginning this past Sunday, our eldest nephew Nathan began a two-week stay at our home to commemorate the start of his 15th year of life (he turned 14 on 07/28).

We've had some entertaining times already these past 2.5 days. Benjamin and I will try to capture these moments in an effort to preserve the enjoyment we are having and for Nathan's sake years from now when he is trying to think of things to do with our 14-year old child. :)

Sunday, after we left the restaurant in Sterling Heights, where we "made the trade" (otherwise known as where my sister bid her 14-year old farewell, younger siblings clung to Nathan half-joking, not certain that they liked the idea of their brother being gone for 2-weeks and we acquired a teen aged boy),  we traveled to apt. #132 where Nathan helped Benjamin and I get dinner together for Benjamin's dad's birthday.  Nathan entertained Shirley (Ben's Mother) and "Aunt" Pat (our family friend) with technological tid-bits and gigabitten facts about mobile devises, external hard-drives, and which iPhone application is best.

Monday, Benjamin entertained Nathan while I was at work with some domestic chores like grocery shopping, kitchen cleaning, Wii Resort Championships, a trip to Dunkin Donuts and some random TV watching. (Apparently the last three have recently been added to the list of things to do when being a stay-at-home-dad.)  The point is, they had fun.  I got to entertain Nathan and was subsequently entertained with a trip to the theater to see Despicable Me.  We spent $10.00 (total) on the show for both of us and $24.00 (total) on candy, popcorn and white cherry slushies. Good. Grief.  The night ended with a Super Mario Smash Bros. Brawl between he and I until way too late.  He looked over at me on the couch, amidst my hyper-enthusiastic inquisition to "play again," and said, "Tianna, can we go to bed now?"

Today has been a "work-from-home" day for me and Nathan cooperated by helping clean-up our personal computers (a task that he is excellent at), reading, some Wii, sorting laundry and a nap.  After work, we headed out to the Southfield Public Library, where he found a Star Wars Comic book that he'd been looking for.  We did a quick trip to the grocery store where he came up with the fantastic idea of making Rice Krispie Treats! (see below for a few pictures)

As I write, Benjamin and Nathan are "killin' it" at Wii Resort Sport and I'm enjoying the naive delusion that having a teenager is going to be the easiest and greatest thing in the world.

If you are so inclined, please watch for more fun updates as Benjamin helps me keep my promise to my sister and brother-in-law (not like it was hard to do) and enjoy entertaining and being entertained by one of the most creative, inspiring, delightful 14-year old boys we know.

The "Trade"

Nathan's masterpiece

Uncle Benjamin explaining the importance of "folding" marshmallows and butter vs. just stirring

Yum!

Yummy-er!

Friendship

As previously noted, I have been doing some self-evaluation of the friendships that I have and the way in which I maintain those friendships.  I have discovered that my expectations of friendships is unrealistic and that I may need to adjust those expectations; therefore, finding a greater sense of fulfillment within those relationships.

Let's assume we all agree that friendships are "supposed" to be mutually fulfilling and reciprocal as well as life-giving and respectful.  I would like to have some input in this from others.  Please comment here or via facebook.

What are 3-5 things you most highly value in your friendships?  (Give examples if possible)

Seven Days without Make-up

Not purposely and with little pre-mediation, I have gone a complete seven days without wearing any make-up and without putting any products in my hair.  Disclaimer: I greatly enjoy make-up, foo-foo girly stuff, doing my hair and dolling up.  I have a Mary Kay account, know what microdermabrasion is and get insane amounts of satisfaction from picking out eye shadow.  I point this out only as a point of clarification because I don't want any readers to get the wrong idea.  I did not abstain from my normal hygiene routine for spiritual, emotional or moral reasons.  I was on vacation. Seriously.

For the first time, in a really long time (maybe ever), I took a whole week off from work, did not check email or voicemail, slept in, exercised, ate food that was cooked at home, swam in my pool, served some friends by babysitting their baby for a few days, accomplished some things at home, started to read a book, STARTED our thank-you cards for the wedding.

Monday - I hung out with my sister Sara ON her birthday.  This has not happened since 1998 when I moved out of the house she and I grew up in.  We ate chocolate chip pancakes at Original House of Pancakes, shopped, drank Starbucks mocha-carmel-frappapapapapapa things, swam in our pool, and enjoyed just being with each other.  No make-up necessary.

Tuesday - I spent most of the day doing apartment improvement stuff with my husband and checking off things on our "to do" list.  We cooked dinner, made meal lists together, spent time casually sitting on our tiny loveseat together discussing the future, our children and the way we want to live our lives.

Wednesday - Benjamin and I spent the day babysitting the 14-month son of some great friends of ours.  We were able to spend a lot of time together discussing childhood related things, defining values, expressing anxieties and enjoying being off from work at the same time.  That evening we went to the champion softball games for my best friend and enjoyed the beautiful weather and leisurely pace of *mostly* non-competitive softball games.  No make-up necessary.

Thursday - Spent the majority of the day with the 14-month old again.  He's a joyful, easily amused, expressive, content little baby.  A great second day playing house.  That night, our friends hosted us to a beautiful evening of classical music and rich history at the Salute to America concert with a performance by the Detroit Symphony Orchestra at The Henry Ford. The weather was beautiful and the company was perfect. No make-up necessary.

Friday - My sister and I drove south to Richmond, Kentucky to celebrate her birthday and my parent’s 34th wedding anniversary.  We spent time on the wide open road, with the wind in our hair, tossing sweet cherry pits out of my sunroof, discussing the complexities of life, site-seeing the lightening-struck "Touchdown Jesus" that was once a familiar point of reference for our many trips to and from our second home. No make-up necessary.

Today, Saturday - Slept in, talked and laughed with my parents and sister for endless hours this morning/afternoon during our "coffee & toast" time.

This tradition started when my parents moved to Richmond over 5 years ago.  After a long drive on Friday nights after work, I would wake up late on Saturday mornings to my sweet mom and dad sitting in their bed drinking coffee, eating toast talking or listening to NPR.  I would climb into bed with them and drink coffee, eat toast and join into whatever conversation they were having.  It usually transitions to the living room, where there is a little more room to stretch out and this is where my parents would ask questions about job, school, and relationships.  This "coffee & toast" time is my favorite time when I am here, in my second home.  It is where I find a connection with the *inheritance* of having a healthy relationship, as an adult, with my parents.  Their wisdom flows freely, as it always has, and I have matured to a place where my heart receives their instruction, advice, council and input without reservation or defense. It is where my soul has been growing up.  

After "coffee toast" time, my mom and I went to get a manicure and pedicure and came home to cook "birthday/anniversary" dinner.  We watched some HGTV and speculated about fantastic design projects and homes we would buy...if we had all the money in the world. We finished up celebrations with our favorite "shower cake" that my mother makes for our birthdays.  No make-up necessary.

Tomorrow we'll depart, heading north to our homes.  I quite possible will not put make-up on again, until Tuesday morning when I return to work.  At which point I will fondly remember the time that was saved in not putting on make-up and instead spent with the people I love the most.

Father

Every year, around Father's Day and January 6, I spend a lot of time trying to think of the best way to honor my dad. I consider all of the things that I would like to articulate and attempt to capture them into words. I remember all of the important things that he has taught me through word and action and try to keep doing what would make him proud. I spend time thinking about CDs, videos or books that he would like to have. Although this t thought tends to happen more frequently than twice a year; Father's Day and his birthday are two days each year where I spend a significant amount more time thinking about him.

June 10 of this year marked the 13th anniversary of the car accident that my dad was in that triggered the decline of his health. I've spent 13 years, twice a year, wondering if this would be the last Father's day or birthday that he would be alive. 26 times I've worried, wondered, feared, cried and been angry about the fact that his body is failing, his flesh is dying and at some point he will no longer be with me on this Earth. This year, on June 10, I was sitting at a late night work event. I saw a little girl walk in holding an old man's hand. These dark, weathered and wrinkled hands held a cane in one and the little girl's hand in the other. I so wished to find a way to capture this image in a photo. The old man was being led by this little girl; she was no more than 10 years old. He walked very slow, using his cane and approached the table where I was sitting to sign in for the event. His voice was very low and he began to speak his name. I could not hear him very well and looked pleadingly to the little girl that accompanied him. She was looking firmly up at her grandfather and waited for him to look to her and give a nod of permission. When he did, she slowly looked at me and said, "His name is Gerald." What stood out for me so strongly in that moment was her patience with him, her honoring respect in the way she waited for him to request her help and the pride in which she spoke his name.

I have often been criticized for being "too much" of a lot of things. More recently, I've been criticized for being too protective of my dad; being too quick to demand a nurse to attend to his needs while in the hospital, getting in the doctors face when I wasn't happy with an answer related to treatment or his condition, even trying to protect him from friendships that appeared to be hurtful to him; sometimes even trying to protect him from family. What this little girl that boldly spoke her grandfather's name has taught me is that my dad still has a lot of life left in him. His decisions are still his own. He may only want my company and friendship, not for me to run interference for challenges he is facing in life. I am convicted that the best way for me to honor him, during this fragile time of life is to be patient with his decisions, trust the wisdom that has always been a strong source of encouragement for me and wait for him. Wait for him to decide what he needs, what he wants and what he wants me to do for him. Right or wrong, I will stand by his side, hold his hand and wait for him to nod. At which time, I will proudly say, "His name is Curtis Takacs."

Happy Father's Day to the man that means the world to me, that made me who I am. His failures, his faults, his wisdom, his passion, his courage and his love are all a beautiful part of the whole of who I am. I can look back on the past and be deeply grateful for the fact that he is my father. I love you, daddy!

Exercise - I am starting over. Again. For the 100th time.

It isn't about being sexy.  It never has been.  This isn't about being smaller.  I can thank Grandpa Takacs for this sturdy bone structure that will support my muscles the rest of my life and always be large. This is about choosing to be healthy.  This is about preparing for my children.  This is about being able to have energy and enjoy life.  This is about my Dad.

I've come to the conclusion, at 31 years of age, that I need goals.  I must have things to strive for.  So, as I watch my father struggle with his health, I am motivated to an all new level to do something about my weight.  I am very successful when I do things like "no carbs" or "no sweets." Since I'm trying to follow the Weight Watchers way of life, I find that I am having a much harder time than I anticipated.  So, I'm deciding that I'm going to do this for Curtis Takacs. He is the one person that I know that successfully changed core beliefs, core values and core behavior.  He diligently worked through the hard, self-mutilation of changing who he was to be better for God, family, himself, the world.  I'm increasingly more and more aware of the battle that he fought, against himself, in order to become a healthier man.  If he can do that, surely I can loose 100 pounds. Surely.

So if you're reading this and you care about me, please don't feed me cake, cookies, candy, crap.  Please honor my efforts, encourage me and keep the chips and dip on your side of the table. :)

Kraft

On this "stay at home and be miserable" day, I'm going to take a moment to share with you my deep enjoyment for the finer things in life. Don't judge.

1. Little Caesar Hot-n-Ready
2. Kraft Mac-in-Cheese (the spiral kind)
3. Hershey chocolate bar
4. Velveeta Cheese
5. Hormel Canned Chili
6. #4 and #5 melted together and eaten with corn chips
7. $3 buck Chuck from Trader Joe's
8. Frozen biscuits
9. Instant pudding
10. (last, but not least) Diet Coke out of a can

These are a few of my favorite things. I think of them often when I am sick.

I dislike being sick

...mainly because I don't think anyone ever takes me seriously. I am staying home from work today because I had a fever and sore throat yesterday, feverishly sweat through the night, hardly slept, and woke up with congestion in my lungs and white spots on my throat, stuffy nose and a headache. To me, that is reason enough to stay home, even work from home as to not infect my co-workers, but thanks to my mother, there is this deep lurking guilt associated with staying home from work. I cannot possibly have any fun today, I cannot go outdoors, cannot have fun with friends tonight. "If you didn't feel well enough to go to school, you can't go outside," she would say, "or do anything remotely enjoyable apparently"...I would think. I'm home, trying to decide if I'm going to enjoy my breakfast or not.