His namesake

I've been told many times that I've been named after him, but honestly, I've never really gotten more than that.  My entire life I've lived on the other side of the country from him, always wondering what it would be like to have a stronger relationship, always desiring a fill to that pseudo void I've felt for a more involved father-figure.  Whenever I do get the rare chance to see him (what, once every six years or so) he's always enthusiastic and makes me feel so important, missed, and loved.  I find him oftentimes giving me much more credit than I'm deserving of, but instead of correcting him, I relish in someone finding me fascinating, intelligent, and interesting.  When he's far away, he tries to keep up with all of his nieces' and nephews' busy lives, never lacking in showing support or enthusiasm in what's important to each of us.

I'm sure his day-to-day live is hectic and busy, with a wife, three children, and a grand-baby, but he seems to approach most situations with an open-mind, kind heart, and strong will.  He's had his fair share of obstacles and rough encounters but knows how to keep his head up and urge others to do the same when their lives don't follow the paths that they had planned for.  Watching how his  life and children have evolved and grown, and knowing that he's had a hand in that, makes me look up to him more now as an adult than I ever could as a child.  Now that I've started my own little family (consisting of a husband and a pup, but hoping to add some kiddos in the distant future), I find myself hoping that I become as content and approving of my own life as he seems to be with his.  I also hope that after being married for (ummm how many years now?) as long as he has I can still be as deeply in love with my spouse as anyone can tell he is with his own.

Ever since I started this blog, he's been my biggest supporter and most avid reader and today is his birthday.  This is for you Uncle Ray.  Know that I miss you and the Frankles daily, wishing I could've had the opportunity to bond more with each and every one of you over the years, but extremely happy with the chances I did get to spend with you and hope to still get in the future. I love you and hope that today is a reminder that the world was changed the day you were brought into it, and in the best possible way.

Excerpt from "Finding Myself"

I've written and completed a manuscript entitled Finding Myself, here's a look...

            When we got to her hospital room, I thought my legs were going to crumble beneath the unbearable weight of my shame and guilt.  It seemed as if everything hit me like an uncontrollable wave crashing into the shore.  I wasn’t sure if I should feel like this, but I couldn’t help it.  It wasn’t simply that I felt sorry for Lydia, or that I was blaming myself for this; I had forgotten who she was to me all these years.  She had always been my other half – I’d conveniently let my jealousy and selfishness overtake me; that was not the person I was or wanted to be.  I was that girl who apologized for things that weren’t her fault.  I was that girl who never said what she was truly thinking; I bit my tongue.  I was that girl who could forgive and forget.  Why was it, then, that I allowed myself to cause this mayhem?  My mother most certainly wasn’t going to forgive me and I couldn’t, or wouldn’t expect any absolution from Lydia.  But there was still this undeniable feeling in the pit of my stomach that made me wonder, why did I have to apologize for who I was or who I wanted to be?  Would they ever be willing to do the same?

            I looked up as we walked into the dimly lit room.  Cooper was asleep on the horrible excuse for a couch.  Lydia was lying down with her back propped up, talking softly to Stella, who was sitting in a chair at her side.  When they heard us shuffle in the room, their eyes furiously shot over to Samuel and me.

            “WHAT are you doing here?” Stella asked angrily as she shot up out of her chair.

            Samuel’s expression was pleading, but his tense body screamed anger.  He didn’t say a word, though.

            “I… well,” I began, “I thought that we should come.”

            “It’s a little late for sympathy or support, dontcha think Izabelle?” Stella continued.  “I think you should just leave right now.”

            “Stella,” I began, then looked over at my sister“… Lydia… I know you probably blame me for all this, but I think it’s more important that I apologize for my behavior,”  Here I go again… apologizing for something I don’t really feel I should.

            “AGAIN,” Stella interrupted, “a little late for that.”

            Lydia, who had been staring down at her folded hands finally spoke, “Thanks for coming.  I’m sure it was hard for you…” she paused and looked up at me, “but there’s really no reason for you to be here.”

            It felt like the wind had been knocked out of me and my knees finally did give out from right underneath me.  Samuel quickly turned to brace me, too quickly in fact, because his elbow grazed the tray at the foot of the hospital bed and a cup went crashing to the floor.  Cooper shot up from his slumber and came immediately to his feet when he saw us standing there.

            “Sammy,” he half questioned, half stated.

            Samuel nodded at him, but never let me go.  Cooper looked over at Lydia who was silently crying, and Stella, who was still glaring at me.  I wondered how a mother could ever look at her own daughter in that way.  Samuel looked down at me and we exchanged a glance, allowing him the peace of mind that he could release me.  Cooper’s gaze had returned to us and when he saw Samuel let me go, he took a small step toward him.  Samuel slowly returned the gesture, but began lifting his arms in the form of a welcoming hug.  At first, Cooper’s expression showed his overwhelming skepticism, but once he came to the realization that this was actually happening, he lunged into his older brother’s arms.  They embraced for quite a while, and I could see that they missed each other greatly.

            When they let go, I saw Stella grimace out of the corner of my eye.  How can she be like this? I thought to myself.  I am her daughter… Samuel is the love of my life and she can’t see any side but her own.

            “Do you want to talk in the hall?” Cooper asked Samuel quietly.

            Samuel glanced at me, worried to leave me in the pit of hell by myself.  I gave a completely relieved smile and a strong nod, letting him know how proud I was that he decided to reconcile his differences with his best friend.  They left quietly and I stood, feet planted, looking at my sister and mother.  I knew this wasn’t going to be resolved at this moment, or maybe ever, but they had to at least listen to my side of everything; at least, I was going to try and explain.

            “Look,” I began, “I know you both hate me for all I said to you and about you,” I nodded my head in Lydia’s direction in particular, “but I meant every word.”

            Their eyes widened and Stella replied, “If you came here to place more fault on us, believe me, we’ve heard far too much of that al–”

            “No…” I interrupted, “let me finish.”  I waited a minute for them to exchange glances and to calm down a bit.  “So all of it was valid… I’m tired of just ignoring things and pretending nothing ever happened.  My entire life has been spent suppressing my true feelings about my childhood.  I don’t want these feelings anymore.”

            “Neither do I, Tub,” Lydia responded, “but I didn’t blow things up and rub every mistake in yours and mom’s faces.  I just let it go…”

            “I CAN’T!” I cut in.  “I’m different from you.  I’m not okay with the way things went for us.  I’ve never been able to say any of this before.  You don’t like to listen to it…” I gestured with my hands toward Lydia, “and you pretend it didn’t happen,” I gestured toward Stella.  “I can’t do that. Stella…” I paused, a long pause, “see, just that… not being able to call you mom, it kills me.  Do you know what it was like to have kids ask me why I called you by your first name?”  No emotion showed on her face at all.  I have to get through to her, I thought.  “Do you know what it was like to explain to teachers why my mother was an hour late picking me up more often than not, if you remembered to pick me up at all?  Or why I wore the same clothes day after day for an entire week?  I was ashamed and afraid to tell them that you sold all our stuff to buy drugs, I didn’t have anything else to wear.  I couldn’t tell them you forgot about me every day because you were snorting cocaine and ‘entertaining men,’” I made air-quotes with my fingers trying to pretty-up the fact that she was a prostitute.  “I couldn’t tell them you hated me and never wanted children in the first place, that calling you Mom or Mother would just be a constant reminder of something you didn’t want to be and were cursed with.”

            I looked down at the floor and the tension in the air was creeping in, wrapping its ugly hands around my neck and strangling me.

            “I didn’t come here for this,” I whispered.  “I just wanted to be here for Lydia in her time of despair.”  I was unsure if they even heard me.

            “Izzie,” Lydia said, “I know things were very hard for you, but I went through it all too.  I had to avoid those same lingering questions and…”

            “Yea, Lydia, you did…” I paused before speaking the next words, “but I didn’t up and leave you,” I responded with scorn.

            “You’re right,” she said softly, “but you did have me in the beginning.  I had no one until you came along.”  I couldn’t tell if she was speaking so quietly because she hated thinking about this as much as I did or if she was trying to spare Stella the sting of her truthful words.

            “So… because I was seven years too late, you punished me by leaving me to fend for myself.  You abandoned me like Stella had already done.”

            Lydia had tears streaming down her face.  I looked at Stella, who was sitting, staring at the wall.  She seemed to be in a state of shock and I wondered if what we were saying was in vain; was she even hearing what was being said?  This was for her.

            “I love you Izzie… I really do, with all my heart,” Lydia took a deep breath, “but life isn’t all about you.”  She paused for a moment.  “Everyone suffers, we both got a huge, heaping serving of crap for our life, but you have to move on from this… I have.  You weren’t the only one who experienced all that, it isn’t all about you,” she repeated even quieter than the first time.

            “Oh…” I breathed out.  I was a little put out by her words, especially since nothing was ever “all about me” as she’d said.  But in her eyes, at least she was being honest with me, and I had to have some appreciation for that.  I had tried for so long to push everything into the back of my mind, but with all that happened recently, it was hard to not let these issues rise to the surface.  I was ready to settle this, even if not for my own benefit, but I still wondered if they were as willing.

            “I’m sorry Izzie… Lydia…” Stella said suddenly, “I know I was… no am a horrible mother.  There’s no excuse for how I treated you and made you feel.”  She was almost breathing the words out, mumbling silently.  “I was so stunned to know I had become pregnant.  I didn’t know how to take care of a child.  I was on my own, completely broke, felt sorry for myself, and tried my damndest to get rid of the pain I felt every day.”

            “That’s a shit-ass justification, Stella,” I said, quite calmly.  “You left your parents willingly when you found out about Lydia because you were too scared to tell them the truth.  And yeah, it’s obvious that you were only thinking about yourself because you’ve never taken care of us a day in your life.  And your pain you speak of… you’ve tried to rid yourself of it for over 20 years.  Don’t you think it’s time for you to move on from all this self-pity?”  

            I heard the squeak of rubber on the over-waxed flooring of the hospital room.  I turned my head to the left and saw Cooper and Samuel with smiles on their faces entering the room.  Lydia immediately reached up and brushed the tears away from her face and Stella stood up and left the room without saying a word.  She brushed between the brothers and knocked Samuel off balance, following it up with, “Stupid oaf… get out of the damn way.”

            Samuel glanced at the two of us still left in the room and instantly caught on to the emotion in the air; Cooper was a bit more clueless.

            “Hey babe,” he said on his way to Lydia’s side.  He leaned down and kissed the top of her head.  She forced out a stiff smile and self-consciously brushed her hair behind her ear while turning her gaze back to her folded hands.

            “So ole Sammy and I had a lot to talk about.  I caught him up on the occurrences of the past few days.”  He turned his gaze to me, “I’m sure he’ll relay the information, Iz.”

            I shook my head to let him I know I understood and returned my attention to Lydia.  She was now looking up at me and our eyes connected.  I wanted to convey my compassion and apologies and utter heartbreak for her.  Could a simple gaze do that?  I knew that if I didn’t do something, right now, I might lose her forever.  I couldn’t bear to lose her like I’d already lost my mother. Even if I did end up reconciling with Stella, I would never have the relationship with her that I truly wanted.  Lydia was the first to look away, and I didn’t mind; I understood.  Not only, by sitting in this hospital, was she being put on display for all to sympathize for and with, but she couldn’t run away and hide like Stella had already done.  I glanced at Cooper, who was aimlessly fiddling with the stuff on her bedside table.  I turned my head to Samuel who was staring intently at me, as if he knew what I was going to do before even I did.  He gave me a wonderful smile, bringing up the corner of one side of his lip higher than the other.  I returned the gesture and closed my eyes.  After taking a deep breath, I looked back at Lydia who was crying even harder now, still without sound.  I slowly began moving the muscles in my leg to step forward.  I hesitated for a second, What if she doesn’t want to make amends with me?  She has Cooper now, right?  She has Stella, more than she ever has… certainly more than I ever will.  Like she said, I’m being selfish.  I can see she’s in pain, but she’ll move on from it like she always does.  I hate to even think it, but could this ‘miscarriage’ be another attempt at gaining attention?  Will she… all this, ever change?  I felt a small tear trickle down my face and I wiped it away before anyone could notice.  I rested my foot in place.  I can’t do this, I thought.  I turned to Samuel and his smile was gone.  He mouthed to me, “Oh, Izzie,” and very slowly closed his eyes and shook his head.  I think he understood that I wasn’t going to do anything, and I could definitely read the sadness on his face.  My stomach turned and I felt like I was going to throw up if I didn’t leave the room.  I turned my body completely toward the door.

            “I’m sorry we… I caused so much trouble by coming here.  I can see I’m not wanted.”  With that, I turned and left the room.  Once I hit the hallway, I began to run.  I knew it was probably a bad idea, but I had to escape.  I had to get out.  The walls were coming in on me.  Everything was continuing to fall underneath me, disappearing.  I wasn’t sure if Samuel was following me, and I honestly didn’t care.  I had to get out.

            When I hit the exit, I realized that rain was pouring from the sky.  I knew the second I stepped out from underneath the awning I was going to be drenched, but I didn’t care about that either.  I kept running until I hit the sidewalk.  I stopped and began heaving, taking in huge gasps of air.  I wasn’t sure if what I was feeling was anger or frustration or grief or aching… longing for that which I just let slip through my fingers.  Without an ounce of hurry in my body, I tilted my head back to let the rain wash it all away.  I closed my eyes and soaked everything in.  I remained there, letting the water drop on my face and slide down my body.  I didn’t care if everyone in the world was staring, I just wanted this feeling, this aching to go away.

            I felt a soft touch on my shoulder and knew right away that it was Samuel.

            “Izzie…” he whispered to me.  He let his fingers linger on my shoulder for a moment.  I gradually dropped my head back to its normal position and turned to face him.  There we were, standing in the middle of a storm… just us two.  I stared into his longing eyes, they were worried and I could tell my actions were affecting him deeply.

            I tilted my head a bit and gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile.  I reached up and softly stroked his cheek.  He gave me a confused look and I knew he didn’t truly understand what was running through my mind.  I wanted to feel nothing… I wanted the numbness to come on, but I knew it wouldn’t.  I’d be aching for a while, if I didn’t find a way to fix all this.  But how would I go about that?  He couldn’t answer that for me, and I think he knew that.

            “You ready?” I asked him softly with a surprisingly steady voice.

            He just took my hand from his face and held it in his own, leading me to our car.

The Pup

          She longs for a moment of any attention, whether good or bad.  She lays at our feet, wondering if moving closer will make us want to bend over and scratch behind her ears.  No one can say for sure, except for maybe Cesar Millan, exactly the thoughts that run through her mind, but we've imagined dialogue for her voiceless soul.
          Her love for watching cars can only be outweighed by her adoration of her human parental figures.  Her lazy Mommy rarely plays with her, cursing herself over the lack of exercise the poor dog gets.  She certainly has more energy than the typical dog, and they try to make up for it by having a lengthy Frisbee date every weekend.  She tries to compensate by allowing the animal child to lie around on the couches, snuggled up beside her, slathering her in kisses, hugs, and plenty of belly-scratching.  When Mom is up and about, she's right at her heels, waiting for a crumb to fall or ball to be dropped, signaling that any time is the right time for some ball-chasing.  At night, the second that door opens, her heart rate increases and she slithers across the floor, giving snakes and fish a run for their money.  "Daddy's home!  He's home!  Oh my goodness I am so excited to see him!  Can we play, or go outside?!  I love going outside!"
          "Hi pretty girl!  Have you missed me," usually screeches out as our response, because the higher your pitch, the more the tail wags, making you feel good about yourself for at least a few minutes, because you know she's genuinely excited to be in your presence.  When we've had an unusually difficult day, our response falls more along the lines of "Lucy, chill!"  She sits, tail still waving frantically, her tongue hanging out of her mouth, breaths coming more and more rapidly, all the while being patient for that one moment of affection.
          Dinner time is one of her favorites because she's spoiled to the core, her Dad allowing her the remnants left on his plate after he's finished.  If she's really lucky, she'll get her own portion mixed into her silver bowl.  When she's nice and full, she'll plop down on her comfy over-sized pillow and watch the room, keeping a protective glance at the door, making sure that nothing interferes in her world.
          Bed time comes and she knows her place, cozy and warm in her padded, darkened, lair, only feet from her guardians' resting place.  When she's feeling lonely, and especially when there's a storm, she jumps up and nestles herself between them, saying, "Please don't be mad, but I'm so frightened!  Let me sleep up here until I'm okay.  Can I please put my wet nose against your warm arm and nudge you ever so slightly, that way you can comfort me the way you always do?"  Drifting into sleep is one of the hardest things for her, always alert, ears perked listening to the sounds that are too far away or too soft for human ears to hear.  Utter love and devotion are what flows through her owners hearts, and although they don't always make every moment about her, she's the most forgiving living being they'll ever know.  She never asks questions, never holds grudges, always listens, and is always ready to give a wet, loving lick across the chin, foraging in their minds the most-widely known fact in the world... "A dog is a man's best friend."


       

Growing Up

           We waited in that cold, hard, room for hours.  We sat, shifting from side to side, chair to couch, too anxious to eat, yet too hungry to keep our stomaches from rumbling.  He was a brother, a son, a boyfriend, someone who we all cared for.  We looked hopefully at all the other faces coming in and out of the room, trying to instill some sort of feeling through a half-smile and kind eyes.  We weren't fooling anyone, though, we were just as nervous as they looked. 
          "Just a routine procedure," they told us.  "This guy is the best," was how they consoled us.
          We tried to keep the air light by chatting about everyday nonsense, watching some rerun of an ancient soap opera on the telveision in the corner that was more bothersome than coaxing.  We tried to seem tired, closing our eyes because we had to be here so early, but secretly we were imaginging the worst possible outcomes, praying we were wrong. 
          Jiggling nervously then responding, "No I'm just restless," when someone asked if I was on edge.  Watching the door everytime it swung open hoping that he got done earlier than expected because, "Wait, we were incorrect... there's nothing wrong, he'll be fine!" was what we truly wanted to hear.
          Oh, we're supposed to go into the consult room now?  Sitting, waiting, hoping, was what took place in that small, windowless room.  Then, having to watch as tears streamed down my mother's face.  It took every ounce of my own willpower to keep from bursting out into tears, and we were getting good news.  I don't even want to imagine if something bad had actually occurred.  Tears of relief mixed with fear for what was to come escaped from her green eyes, while my brown one's welled up, me pleading to those drops of saline to stay put. 
          The doctor was kind to us, kept his patience as we asked questions that had already been answered or simply didn't really need to be asked in the first place.  I wanted to reach out and grab her hand, hold her, tell her that everything was going to be okay.  But I just sat there, unable to be the strong daughter she raised and needed.  It was times like this when I felt like I wasn't as good to her as she deserved.
          More sitting, waiting, stressing.  "I want to see my son," were the repeated words she uttered, writhing her hands in frustration and anticipation.  "It's just a few more minutes, Mom," I said, trying to convey to her how much I wasn't saying, through just a few words.  When we finally got to go back we were told only one of us could stay.  No questions, Mom would be with him.
          Seeing his breathing chest, that familiar face, those manly hands, that used to be so small, grasping for me to play or help.  I looked at his closed eyes and wished he comprehended how much he meant to me.  Everytime I looked at him, this overwhelming nostalgia crept up into my soul, filling me with sadness that someday one of us would actually be gone from the other.  In the wake of success it was difficult to not focus on what could've gone wrong, but so utterly thankful that he came out okay.
          I kissed his lips and wished I could squeeze him, eager for when he'd be lucid enough to make me laugh like he always could.  When it was time to go, I felt a longing to stay, to shield him from what was to come, begging God to give his pain to me.  "Let me take some of his burden, he's so young, and it's unfair that he should suffer through this," were my silent cries, the doctor's earlier words of "These next few days will be the worst pain he's ever experienced," echoing through my mind. 
          What a great way for him to spend his 18th birthday, that rite of passage everyone talks about.  How must he feel?  Is he screaming inside, trying to put up this front, this tough exterior?  He must be petrified and infuriated at the same time, getting this last chance to be a kid wrenched out from under him.  Having the one thing he loved to do ripped away from him, is he really holding it together?
          "I worry about him," I utter to my husband, "I'm scared for him.  I want to cry and fight and scream for him.  What can I do?"  "Just be there, like you always are," he responds, hugging me and wiping away my small trickle of tears.
          "Thank you Sissy," he repeats over and over, and it breaks me open, exposes my unconditional and absolute affection for him, though he can't see it.  Though it's almost unimaginable how far it extends, he knows, and I never stop showing it.  I want to entrap him and put him a plastic bubble so nothing can get to him, so nothing can harm him.  "How could we have prevented this?  What did we do wrong?" were the thoughts that all of us thought, though they went unvoiced.  They quickly turned into "What can we do to help?  What can we do to keep his mind off the pain?"  Nothing.  It's a constant ache, a constant reminder of what's lost.  Only he can do now, only he can overcome.
          I want to erase it, make him happy, make him okay, make him have acceptance.  Maybe he does and he's just being stronger than I, as his older sister, can give him credit for.  I've seen him hurt, cry, be frightened, run away, need me.  I've seen him endure, toughen up, keep a stiff upper lip, stand his ground, help me.  I just want to make it all better for him and I know that only he can do that for himself.  He's so grown-up now that I'm lost without the little him.  The boy who used to say "Will you sleep in my bed, Sissy cause I'm scared."  The boy who used to sneak into my room when my friends were over just so he could be a part of my life.  The boy who I shielded from our fighting parents and told him everything would be okay.  The boy who used to hold my hand when he was walking into the unknown.  My little brother isn't little anymore and I'm thankful for the man he's become.  I'm grateful for him because now I say, "Buddy, will you help me?"
         Soon, we'll be far away from each other and all we'll have are texts or phone calls, empty emails to keep in touch over many miles.  Will I be able to survive this?  Can I go this world without him there, just across the hall... or just a few minutes away?  I'm the one that's scared now... scared of the unknown, anxious about what's to come, afraid he'll grow up and not need his big sister anymore.  Time is constant, things change, people grow up.  They fall in love, they build their own lives, and I know that I'll miss him so much I'll ache inside, but that's just life.  We'll start our own families soon and then we can pass this bond down to our kids and watch as they form relationships with one another that will remind us of what we had, have, and will keep until we die. 



Joey this is for you, buddy.  I love you more than life itself little brother.