Did Beth really touch the side of Paul Simon’s former apartment building?
Did they see Art Garfunkel on Fifth Avenue?
The answers are yes and no.
After the Circle Line, we made our way to the Upper West Side, which is a decidedly different sort of neighborhood than Times Square or Hell’s Kitchen. We saw lots of families, kids, young mothers pushing strollers, and people walking dogs. We ate lunch at a great sidewalk cafe, Isabella’s, that sits across Columbus Avenue from a middle school.
After lunch, we walked back toward Central Park, down West 76th (or 77th) Street. It’s a beautiful, expen$ive residential street lined with trees and row houses with interesting architecture. This was the first time I’d ever spent any time on the Upper West Side, and I enjoyed walking through this neighborhood.
Walking down Central Park West, we passed the building in which Paul Simon once lived. It’s called the San Remo and it’s a very posh building that faces the Park. There were two doormen standing just inside the door, all dressed up in sharp uniforms. Yes, I did actually touch the side of the building. Which is almost as good as an Art Garfunkel sighting. Almost.
My other must-see in this area was the Fifth Avenue Apple store. Of course. My mom actually bought a new case for her iPad there. It was teeming with people and so crowded it was hard to move around. But still, just a slice of Apple goodness.
You can’t really go to New York without at least walking up or down Fifth Avenue. I took this picture near the Apple store (Fifth Avenue between East 58th and 59th), looking downtown, toward the Empire State Building.
By this time our feet were yelling and screaming for us to please stop walking, so we took a break at the beautiful St. Patrick’s Cathedral (between East 50th and 51st Streets). I’m not Catholic, but this place cannot help but inspire awe and reverence. I sat near the front and snapped this picture of the altar. Stunning.
Then my mom, a former Catholic, lit a candle for Jim and his job search, which put a nice-sized lump in my throat. Thanks, Mom, if you read this. That was a moment.
After St. Patrick’s we went back to the hotel to rest our feet (and a glass of wine, of course) before seeing Motown and a late dinner at City Lobster. Any day that ends with a Broadway show, wine and lobster is a good day, right?
What a wonderful thing it is to wake up in New York City.
Our first outing of the day was the Circle Line cruise. Yes, it’s touristy, but neither of us had ever done it, so I think that makes it OK. The boat goes all the way around Manhattan.
We started at Pier 83 at West 42nd Street and 12th Avenue, in Hell’s Kitchen. The neighborhood, formerly a crime-ridden slum, is now a trendy — and expensive area. Ninth Avenue, around 42nd Street, is known for its variety of ethnic food. There will be a return trip to this part of town.
The cruise took about two-and-a-half hours, though you can take a shorter trip. I stood at the bow for the best photo opps, and was hoping the entire time that no one would feel the need to do the Titanic thing. No one did.
One of the first sights we saw was the iconic Brooklyn Bridge. One of these days I want to walk across it and see lower Manhattan from the Brooklyn side.
Brooklyn Bridge
For about 30 minutes, I heard no English. I was surrounded by Spanish, French, German, and what might have been Russian, but I’m not sure. I think it’s apropos that I realized this as we approached Ellis Island, and passed very near the Statue of Liberty. The Statue is closed due to damage from Hurricane Sandy, so we got as close as anyone else could. It was hard to imagine I was really that close to the Statue of Liberty. I took about 50 pictures of it. That was the first time I’ve seen it except from the window of an airplane, and it took my breath away.
It was windy and a little chilly, but so very worth it, as the view of lower Manhattan was nothing short of spectacular; the photos don’t really capture it.
My crappy attempt at a selfie with lower Manhattan in the background
Moving uptown into Harlem, the only thing to see besides a bunch of nearly-identical apartment buildings was these colorful murals. For all I know, these could be gang signs, but I found them interesting.
I checked out the south Bronx, notorious for being a rough and scary place to be. Indeed I do believe I’ve seen about all I need to see of the south Bronx.
The central-northern part of the Bronx looked a little nicer, with some newer-looking residential development and Yankee Stadium. I liked seeing it, though I’ll never be mistaken for a Yankee fan.
I recommend the Circle Line for anyone who wants to get a good overview of Manhattan from the water, or for anyone who likes to take pictures.
After that we looked for a cab to make a quick stop at the hotel before heading out for lunch. There were none to be found, so we took a pedicab, which is a bicycle that a guy with very well-developed calves rides and pulls you behind him in a cart. It was a much better way to see Hell’s Kitchen than in a speeding cab, but when we got out, he told us it would be $36 … each. For 10 blocks. So no more pedicabs. Sadly, both my iPhone and my camera batteries were dead by the end of the cruise, so I have no photos of Hell’s Kitchen.
This is getting long, so I’ll do a separate post on our lunch at a sidewalk cafe on the Upper West Side, and touching the apartment building where Paul Simon used to live.
Yesterday’s flight went smoothly, after the minor glitch with my boarding pass was settled. I don’t love flying one bit, but I survived the flight nicely, thanks to my iPad, New York Times crosswords and my “calm” playlist. And what may have been a tiny glass of wine.
Once we landed it seemed as if it took forever to get out of the airport and to our hotel, which is right near Times Square, at 47th Street and 7th Avenue, an easy walk from the theaters and just a couple of blocks from Fifth Avenue. Here’s the view from our window.
We quickly unpacked and settled in, then hit the streets the way people do in New York: on foot. We grabbed quick sandwiches at a place I’d heard about online call Pret a Manger. They specialize in fresh, handmade food. Everything is made and served on the same day, then the leftovers are donated to charity. I love the philosophy and the sandwiches were delicious. This sign hangs in the dining area:
We walked up Seventh Avenue, over to Sixth, then all the way to Central Park, where we decided to be touristy and do the carriage ride. It’s a great way to see the Park. My heart beat a little faster when we passed the Sheep Meadow, the site of Simon & Garfunkel’s Concert in Central Park in 1981.
Then we saw Richard Belzer, better known as “Detective Munch” from Law & Order SVU. He was walking through the park fast, wearing exercise shoes. Celebrity sighting for day one.
We were starving and exhausted, so we decided to grab a quick bite before heading to see Lion King. The bar at our hotel has great appetizers and a really cool view of Times Square, so we went there before and after the show for appetizers.
Oh, my, Lion King was amazing. The costumes, the sets, the creativity – making people look like animals without being cartoonish is quite the feat. Go see this show. When we walked out of the theater, it looked like it was still daylight. The lights of Times Square are that bright.
One of the things that thrills me about New York is the concentration of talent and the diversity. You don’t see this level of creativity and innovation without different points of view.
Cool sights of the day:
The basically naked woman standing in Times Square with “I <3NY” painted all over her body. And no one freaking out, except maybe the guys appreciating her fine derrière.
The woman about my age with her close-cropped chartreuse-colored hair trimmed to a Mohawk.
My mom getting her picture made with the “Statue of Liberty” in Times Square. See below.
I’m already a day behind, and today was amazing, so stay tuned.
Random thoughts: I still haven’t seen Art Garfunkel and I really might not leave here.
Tomorrow morning I’ll leave for New York City for the first time since 1993. I could not be more excited; it’s one of my favorite places.
My mom is treating me to the trip, since Jim isn’t working now (see this post if you need to catch up).
We’ll see two Broadway shows — Lion King and Motown, and we’re planning a trip to Ground Zero and just chilling in lower Manhattan, which I’m looking forward to seeing more of than I did last time. We’ve got dinner reservations at Bobby Flay’s Mesa Grill for Saturday night, but the rest of the time we’ll be on our own, to wander as we please.
We’re staying in Times Square which is anything but quiet, so I’m guessing there will be things to see at all hours. I hope I can sleep.
Honestly, New York is so magic for me, just walking down the street and looking around. It’s always fascinated me and I’ve spent hours on Google Street View walking the streets of Manhattan.
Though I’m excited for whatever we encounter, I have five things I want to do:
See Art Garfunkel on the street. He lives on the Upper East Side and since we’ll be in Central Park anyway, we’ll walk up Fifth Avenue hoping for a sighting.
Visit the Fifth Avenue Apple Store. The one with the glass cube.
Get a photo made in front of the Bleecker Street sign in Greenwich Village. If you don’t know why, you’re not a Simon & Garfunkel fan.
See Ground Zero and the Memorial. Enough said.
Do the Circle Line boat tour around Manhattan. Yes, it’s touristy, but I’ve always wanted to do it and the photos will be awesome.
I’ll blog daily (assuming I have any energy left) and report back on Fifth Avenue, Bleecker Street, Art and the boat.
The season could not have come at a better time — especially now, when we’re not going out much anywhere, due to the unemployment thing. One of our simple pleasures is putting our feet up and ending the day with the Cardinals on TV, win or lose.
Last weekend, my sister gave us tickets to see the Redbirds. We’re big fans, as we’ve watched many current Cardinals members play at AutoZone Park. This night was especially exciting, as Cardinal third baseman and 2011 World Series MVP David Freese was playing in Memphis on a rehab assignment.
Cardinal third baseman David Freese on deck
Yeah, these seats are good.
Freese at bat just before whacking an RBI double
So as we’re enjoying the game, I glance over to our right, in the area behind home plate. I notice two young guys with a clipboard, apparently keeping pitching statistics. I recognize one of them as Michael Wacha, top pitching prospect for the Cardinals. This guy will most likely be on the mound at Busch Stadium by the end of the season. I didn’t immediately recognize the other guy, but realized he was Tyler Lyons, also a pitcher.
Wacha (left) and Tyler Lyons signing autographs for us
They were very nice and seemed genuinely happy to be recognized. We chatted with them a bit, and wished Wacha good luck pitching on Sunday.
So, a beautiful night for baseball, a chance to see a Cardinal hit a double and two autographs to add to our collection.
We’re perfectly happy hanging out and eating at home and living a simpler life. But a gift like baseball tickets gave us a tremendous boost; a chance to enjoy a night out and feel normal for just a short while. We looked forward to it all week and relished it all evening.
Do you know someone going through a rough time? Think about a gift of something they really like to do.
My youngest baby is 21 today. It makes me a little misty eyed, I’m not gonna lie.
I tried to resist the motherly instincts last night when she told me she was going out at midnight to buy her first legal drink.
Me: Be careful. Are you taking Ethan (longtime boyfriend) with you? Her: Yep! Me: Well, have fun.
(Ethan is big and strong and not the sort of guy you want to mess with. And very protective.)
See how well that went?
Don’t get me wrong; I love having adult children. I love the adult conversations, and it makes me happy to see the great women they’ve both become. But it’s real, on-paper, legal confirmation that this phase of my life is over.
Which is awful and awesome. It’s the end of being needed in many ways, but it’s better to be wanted anyway.
Parenthood is a long journey, and I’m not sure you ever really reach a destination in the sense that the trip is over. But I’m loving where I am now.
I love the laughter, the fun, and the friendship. The adult relationship that isn’t based on dependence, but on love, commitment and many, many shared memories. The ease of being with people who know you inside and out, have seen you in a swimsuit and without makeup and still love you.
It’s been an incredible journey. The best/worst, most rewarding/hardest most heart-rending/touching journey of all, I think. I’ve made mistakes, but I’ve done my best and I have no regrets.
I’ve never made a quilt, but I think parenthood is how I imagine it would be, and someday I will make one. It’s a panoply of squares, each of which represents a smile, a hug or a tear, all joined together into one beautiful piece. If the last 24 years of my life are that quilt, I’m grateful for one so beautiful, that covers me when there is a chill and comforts me when I cry.
Here’s to you, girls, and to the next 24 years together.
I love to watch old sitcoms like The Dick VanDyke Show, Leave it to Beaver, and The Andy Griffith Show. They are relaxing to watch, as the characters’ problems, always wrapped up neatly in half an hour, would earn a #FirstWorldProblems hashtag in today’s world. Everyone is well behaved, no one cusses or drinks too much and Ward wouldn’t think of cheating on June. It’s all so … nice.
Though I enjoy my share of nostalgia, I’m not sure those days were really better, in spite of the Facebook posts I see regularly bemoaning the state of today’s society. Do you notice something about Andy, Barney, Ward, June, Rob and Laura? They are white, affluent, well-educated, clean cut, middle- to upper-middle class people, for whom those days were serene. With their socio-economic status and respectable professions came the perception that they were good people. They represented the propriety of the day and fit the mold.
Three reasons I wouldn’t have wanted to live in that era:
What if you were different? What if you broke the mold? I suspect life wasn’t quite so grand. I believe much of our longing for the way things used to be is a longing for the days when our beliefs and opinions about the way things should be weren’t challenged. Polite people shared the same views and if you didn’t you wouldn’t dare admit it. Ask a non-white person how great those days were. I’ll bet you’ll get a different answer. Racism was accepted and persons of color were second-class citizens. I don’t want to go back to that. Do you?
Marriages were forever. They had to be. Well, most of them. Divorce, whatever the reason, brought shame and social isolation. Women in destructive or abusive marriages had no way out. Assuming anyone would have believed them, they faced the prospect of being social outcasts if they left, not to mention how to provide for children. A 50-year anniversary of misery isn’t a great thing to celebrate. So, yeah, people stayed married, but maybe that wasn’t always a good thing.
I’d be dead. I was diagnosed with breast cancer in 1998. Had it been 1958, the early diagnosis that saved my life and the treatment that followed wouldn’t have been possible. My two young girls would have grown up without their mother.
People don’t change. The Bible says, ” … There is nothing new under the sun. “(Ecclesiastes 1:9) There has always been rape, murder, incest and every form of awful, creepy behavior. If you don’t believe me, read the Old Testament. You don’t have to read too far into Genesis to see one brother kill another. Child abuse, violence, adultery, lying and deception aren’t new ideas.
The difference today is that we know about it. Media outlets compete for our eyeballs by serving up stories more frightening and sensational than the competition. We long to be Andy and Barney on the front porch strumming the guitar and singing hymns or Laura Petrie making dinner in utopian suburbia. I’m not sure whether we are truly worse, or just better informed.
I’m glad I live in this generation. As pretty as the Cleaver life may look on the outside, I’m grateful that, thanks to God and modern medicine, I’ve lived long enough to enjoy my children as adults. I’m happy my girls are free to follow their dreams and aspirations, wherever they may lead. I love that my friends of every ethnicity enjoy the same rights that I do, and that prejudice against them has fallen far out of fashion. And most of all, I am thankful that I was empowered to leave an abusive first marriage, rather than being trapped by society’s expectations. That freedom gave me the chance to enjoy the blessed life I live today.
Y’all are going to think there is something wrong with me.
So a few caveats are in order before I tell this story:
I’m an intelligent, educated woman, and have, in the past, supported myself quite well.
I am not a backwards ninny who has to ask her husband’s permission to do things.
Jim and I are equal partners and everything is an open book. Passwords, text messages, email and all the analog stuff.
When Jim was RIF’d* a couple of weeks ago, he was handed a large envelope just before he was escorted out of the building. In the envelope (and I’m speculating here) were some papers he had to sign, insurance information, and an outline of the severance package.
Of course, I was eager to know about the severance, and that’s one of the first things I asked him when he got home that day. He told me he hadn’t looked at it, and wasn’t ready to. I respected that and decided I’d let him just do that on his own time.
A couple of days passed, and he hadn’t mentioned the envelope, so I didn’t either. I wanted to know about the severance package, but still wanted to respect his timing. After a few days, when he didn’t bring it up, I started to ask him, then realized something.
It doesn’t matter.
Our security is not in the number on that check. There is nothing in our lives that really matters that can be taken away by anything that’s on — or not on — that check.
Jim knows the number and, more importantly, God knows the number.
In this post, I talked about how I think it’s cool that this happened during Lent. So I decided to give up my need to know about the money for Lent. Not just my need to know, but my need to try to control, to get things done under my own steam. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not in la-la-la denial land. We’re not spending a penny on anything other than necessities and I’m working as hard as I can and have several freelance projects lined up in addition to my job. Jim is doing his networking ninja thing that he does ridiculously well.
What I will not do is stress and worry about it.
Because all we can do is all we can do. The rest we cannot control. It is in the hands of the Wise One.
So I still have no idea what the severance package is. I know that I can ask Jim any time and he’ll tell me, but I’m not going to. I’m going to remind myself that:
Who we are, how we are and where our hearts are have nothing to do with dollars.
Though we don’t know how and we don’t know when, God knows every detail of the next opportunity. He’ll tell us when it’s time. So not asking Jim about the check is practice for waiting on God, which my often-impatient self surely needs.
Wherever He takes us, we won’t be alone. If it’s a great new job, He’ll be with us. If it’s … not, He’ll be with us there, too and wherever He leads us, there will be goodness. His goodness, not necessarily human goodness.
Now, that does not mean we can’t use your prayers, and we certainly appreciate a heads-up on any opportunities you may know of, or folks he should talk to.
But if you think we’re smiling more than we should be, it’s not because we’re faking it, or just too dumb to know better.
It’s because God is very, very real and He knows far better.
*Remember, that’s an acronymn for reduction in force, as the kids are calling layoffs these days.
Earlier this week, I wrote about Jim’s sudden layoff this past Tuesday morning. One of the things that made it difficult was that he and the others were asked to leave the building immediately and make arrangements to pick up personal effects after business hours.
So today was Clean Out the Office Day. It hasn’t been something we’ve looked forward to, but I’ve been hoping it would provide some closure. I offered to go with Jim to get his things, but I wasn’t sure whether he’d like the idea or not – every time we try to clean up/declutter at home, we end up in a fight polite disagreement over what should stay and what should go.
No disagreements this time; it actually wasn’t that unpleasant and almost … fun.
I think we both feel relieved and there is a good sense of closure. And I’ve been reminded of three things:
When you have something difficult to do, it’s great not to have to do it alone. I think my presence made it easier for Jim — I was little or no physical help, but I’m pretty good at throwing things into boxes and I did encourage him to throw away some unnecessary stuff he might have been tempted to bring home.
No matter how bad things are, finding something to laugh about makes it just a little better. We can pretty much always find something funny, even if it’s just making fun of the ugly paneling (see below).
You really cannot move on until you have cleaned up after yourself. Get rid of the junk, keep what will be beneficial in the future. A true fresh start requires a good clean break. Clean out and move on.
Irritated at myself for flooding the bathroom floor, I mopped up the standing water with towels from the hamper and hoped that it wasn’t raining downstairs.
As I ate my oatmeal, checked Twitter, Facebook and Google Plus, and packed my bag for work, I got a phone call that made the bathroom floor irrelevant.
It was Jim. His job had been eliminated. As of … now. Just so you know, official 2013 corporatespeak for this is reduction in force (RIF). It apparently even has its own hashtag. There were about 16 other folks at Jim’s company who met with the same fate.
Nothing like a huge punch in the gut to make you wish for a minor irritation like a wet bathroom floor.
It’s tough when your perspective is adjusted. Even tougher when it happens in an instant. Whiplash.
Time to rethink the word necessary.
We love dinners out and lunch after church. But for now, dinners will be in and Sunday lunches will be hot dogs on the grill or a picnic with homemade sandwiches instead of Central’s BBQ nachos. My gray roots will be covered by me instead of my ridiculously cool and talented master colorist who gives me these highlights. More evenings in, fewer nights out. Alter the jeans I already have rather than buying new ones.
Rethink necessity during Lent? Not a new idea.
This year, I think we’ll observe Lent in a whole new way. Not by giving up chocolate or Facebook, or Muddy’s cupcakes, but by really thinking about living simply and sacrificially. I wish we were disciplined enough that we might live this way on our own, but we’re apparently not. Now that we’ve been somewhat forced into it, I think we’ll embrace the discipline and be thankful for what it teaches us.
So, for those who would ask how we are, I’d say we are good overall. Still reeling a little — shocked, anxious, a little pissed if we’re honest. But beneath it all is peace.
This peace is born not of our strength, but of our faith. Our faith in a God, the evidence of whom is as real in our lives as the problems we face — and infinitely more powerful.
We’ve been here before and God has been faithful. So, even though I wrote these words in 2006, they are still true today just like He is.
That’s the story. The fire is hot, but we’re not alone.
Pray for us, send positive thoughts, let us know of any awesome opportunities. Worry about us? Don’t even think of it.
My sister’s prized possession: 1946 Cardinal jersey, signed by Stan Musial, especially for Jason Motte
Stan Musial died today. And it made me cry.
Stan Musial, for those who aren’t baseball fans, is the greatest Cardinal who ever played the game. He played his entire career — 22 years — in St. Louis. His statistics are impressive, to be sure, as he was the consummate player. Off the field, he was reportedly humble, approachable, friendly and kind to all. He was married to his high school sweetheart, Lillian, who passed away in May 2012, for 71 years.
His accomplishments and his character were admirable, but that’s not why I cried.
My total obsession with love of baseball comes from my dad. I grew up on Cardinal baseball — Sundays we went to church, ate lunch and settled in to watch the Cards on TV. As we watched, Daddy would explain things to me; he’d point out the break on the pitcher’s curve ball, he’d get just a little bit giddy when Lou Brock took a big lead off first base, and he was always awed by Bob Gibson’s fastball. When we traveled, he’d search the radio stations until he heard Jack Buck’s familiar voice, then we’d settle in and listen, cheering and groaning as if we were there.
But Musial was his idol, his all-time favorite player. I think they must have been a lot alike; both married their high school sweethearts, both kind, gracious, generous and known as gentlemen with character above reproach. Musial retired in 1963, probably a couple of years or so before I started watching baseball, so I never saw him play. But I heard my dad talk about him so much I feel as if I did.
We met him once, at his restaurant in St. Louis, on one of our yearly baseball trips. We asked for his autograph, and I don’t remember much, but I remember how nice he was. And his sense of humor when my brother, then probably four or five, began to tear up the photo he had just autographed.
Sara in the Musial jersey and Robbie in Carlos Beltran’s All-Star jersey
This past November, Cardinal closer Jason Motte and his wife, Caitlin, held a benefit for cancer research, which we attended with my sister, her husband and their 11-year-old son. The silent auction featured many great items of sports memorabilia, mostly Cardinal-related. But the last item presented, the ultimate, was an authentic 1946 Cardinal jersey, signed by Musial.
When the Musial jersey came up for auction, I was not that surprised to see my sister’s hand go up, though the starting bid was more than she had said she’d spend. As the bidding became heated, her hand kept going up — along with my heart rate. She won the auction and the jersey was hers for far less here in Memphis than it would have sold for in St. Louis. Motte told us afterward that he went to Musial’s home to ask him to autograph the jersey especially for the event.
Brother-in-law Robbie, Cardinal closer Jason Motte, me, Sam, my sister, Sara, Jim with the Musial jersey
She felt, as I did, the connection with Musial through my dad. It meant more than its monetary value, it reflected a piece of our childhood, a legacy that we now share with our own children. As we all took turns trying it on, I imagined the smile that would have lit up my dad’s face when he took his turn.
So now I’m comforted by the idea that Daddy and Stan are talking Cardinal baseball in Heaven. And I’m sad about the loss of someone who impacted the life of someone I loved, and, therefore, my own.
Rest in peace, Stan the Man. And be sure and tell Daddy about the 2011 World Series.
If we’re connected on any social network, you know by now that we lost one of our four dogs on Christmas Day. We’re not really sure what happened, but the best guess is that she had an illness we didn’t know about and just found a place in my mom’s back yard to curl up and die. We found her on Christmas morning, after combing the neighborhood for hours on Christmas Eve, thinking she had simply gotten out of the yard.
She was a tiny teacup chihuahua that we discovered at a gas station in Bald Knob, Arkansas in the summer of 2009. On our way home from a lake trip, we stopped for gas. The moment Sara Ann got out of the car, she spied a woman and her daughter with six small puppies in a laundry basket. They were giving them away free. Jim saw them at about the same time and called out to Sara Ann, “Don’t look at the puppies … ” But it was too late.
Bringing her home from the Bald Knob gas station
It was hard to imagine how tiny she was when she first came to us. At her first vet visit, she weighted .8 lbs.
In Sara Ann’s shoe boxSara Ann loved her dearly, as we all did.
She loved to curl up in our laundry room, in this laundry basket that had a cozy blanket in it. It took her a few months to be able to get in and out of the basket, but she finally figured out to do it.
Here she is napping on Ethan’s lap with her sister Layla in my mom’s office
I’ll never forget the way she wanted to be held, with her head in the crook of my arm and my hand cradling her tiny butt. She’d lie still forever in that position, as if she could stay there forever. When I worked in my home office, she’d sit on my legs and curl up between my legs and the desk. We would laugh at the way she ran on those tiny legs, more like a rabbit hop than a running dog, and how she would bark just like the big dogs at anyone who entered our house. We always thought she fancied herself a terrifying watchdog.
She was not terribly well-behaved or well-trained; she didn’t come when we called her unless she felt like it, and never really got the hang of doing her doggy business outdoors. She was so tiny and cute it didn’t matter much, so we let her slide. I’d like to think that we gave her a life filled with love and comfort and that she died knowing how dear she was to all of us.
It’s been a long time since I’ve lost a pet, and it’s already been harder than I remember. I’ll never forget the look of utter devastation on Sara Ann’s face when she found Gracie in the yard. Seeing a child in pain will wrench a mother’s gut. I held her as she sobbed and I watched as Elizabeth and Jim rushed to comfort her.
I believe God always sends us a ray of beauty in the midst of pain. Elizabeth and Jim gathered Gracie up, wrapped her and placed her in a box and we buried her near where we found her in my mom’s yard. Though it was freezing cold, we all stood by while Jim dug a grave for her and lowered her into the ground. We held and comforted one another as a family and, though it’s hard for her to tolerate the cold at 77, my mom stood with us the entire time.
The outpouring of love and support we’ve all received on our social networks has been a comfort and solace to us on a day that should have been filled with laughter, joy and celebration. In a sense, it was. I think Sara Ann summed it all up well with these two tweets.
Still shocked & broken hearted over the loss of my most favorite two pound pup. Miss her like crazy already. pic.twitter.com/mnf5Z7bL
