10 Things My Grandmother Taught Me

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Soundtrack for Life for my Godchildren

1. Sunscreen Song-Baz Luhrmann

2. I'll See you on the Other Side - George Strait

3. Unanswered Prayers - Garth Brooks

4. This is Your Life - Switchfoot

5. Fireflies - Lori McKenna

6. Defying Gravity - Wicked

7. Something Worth Leaving Behind - Lee Ann Womack

8. The Climb - Miley Cyrus

9. When You Come Back Down - Nickelcreek

10. My Wish - Rascal Flatts

11. You Gotta Be - Des'Ree

12. Hero - Mariah Carey

13. Angels Among Us - Alabama

14. What the World Needs Now is Love - Jackie DeShannon

15. Man in the Mirror- Michael Jackson

16. Courage Is - Strange Familiar

17. I Just Want to Love You - Strange Familiar

18. Life is a Highway - Rascal Flatts

19. Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch - The Temptations

20. One Girl Revolution- Saving Jane (for Araceli)

21. Growing Pains themesong

22. Forever Young - Rod Stewart

23. We Can - LeAnn Womack

24. Who I Am - Jessica Andrews (for Araceli)

25. This Is Your Life - Switchfoot

26. I Dare You To Move - Switchfoot

27. You Might Die Trying - Dave Matthews

28. Strange Cup of Tea - Sister Hazel

29. Hands - Jewel

30. Love Generation - Bob Sinclair

31.  Fight Song - Rachel Platten

32. Brave - Sara Bareilles

33. Every Storm -Gary Allan

34. In the Morrow - Brandi Carlile

35. Shake It Out - Florence & The Machine

36. Live Your Life Rig

The Story of Eppie

When Eppie first came into my life, my heart was very much closed. I am so good at putting walls up and not letting anybody in. After a particularly hard year and then a semester 600+ miles away from my family, I cried myself to sleep every night. There was a void in my life that was yet to be filled. At the end of that first semester, my father came to my spacious apartment that had hardly any furniture because I only came with a carload of things to South Carolina. He realized how quiet and lonely my life was and gave me a Christmas gift that I always called the best Christmas gift I ever received.


I was not too sure about getting a dog. My sister, Britni, was always the animal lover. In fact, most anybody in my family was more of an animal lover than me. It’s not that I did not like animals. It is just that my family members liked them so much that they took over the animals and left little room for me to involved in the process. Eppie was the first thing that was all mine to take care of. I was wary.


I told my father to not be disappointed if I took my time. I was going to be picky and find the right dog. I still was not sure if I needed/wanted a dog. I asked my father if he would take him back if I realized this was not going to work out. He agreed. We went to pick him out of a litter of puppies. There were white and brown ones. I knew I wanted a male. I picked out Eppie because he was the fattest and had a belly. Also, some of his litter mates were white, and I was concerned about those looking dirty. When I picked him in my arms, he nuzzled it and licked it a little. I said this was the one. My father laughed that I picked a dog from the first Chihuahua litter that we found.


His color was rare. I was told a small percentage of Chihuahuas had that color. To my father, he looked like a Reese cup; that’s why his middle name was Reese. Everywhere we went he got attention. People were not always sure what type of dog he was because of his colors. He was friendly and thought everybody would be his friend. I had to keep him from running up to strangers because if he saw someone out and about, he thought they should be his friend. Sometimes cats crouched down like they wanted to pounce on him, and I had to pick him up really quickly. One time it was squirrels that stared at him like they were trying to figure out what exactly he was. He turned heads wherever he went by humans and animals alike.


I really did not know what I was doing with a puppy. The first night I had him I said that he would sleep in the bathroom until he was housebroken. He cried so much I put him the bed with me. From that night on that’s where he was, right by my side under the blanket.


And during the day he was right beside. He went to the movies with me under a coat or sweatshirt, and he quietly slept there content. I may have looked a little pregnant,but I had my buddy with me. As a puppy, he went shopping with me in a bag. He would sleep as I checked items off my list. One time it was a cold, winter day. He had just gone to the vet to get some shots and was not feeling well. I had some books on hold that were about to expire, so I put him in my coat to go through the self-checkout. Even places that he was not necessarily supposed to go (like restaurants), my faithful companion went with me. He’s been trick or treating, a cow for Cow Appreciation Day at Chick-fil-a, and blessed at a pet blessing.


Eppie was my travel dog. We road tripped across several states,and he even flew as my personal item as a carry-on for some plane rides.


I cannot mark exactly when it happened, but my heart started changing. Through having Eppie, my heart grew at least two sizes. When I first got him, my father told me that these little dogs will get close to your heart. I did not know how true that was until my heart was already stolen by a five-pound dog. When I cried, Eppie licked my tears. When I took a bath when he was puppy, he would prance in,peer over the edge, and ask for water. He outgrew that, but he still came in to check on me to make sure I was okay. He would stop halfway up the stairs and just peer at me when I was sitting in the living room. When someone else picked him up,he had to find me in the room and would practically leap from their arms into mine, even if I was not that close to the other person.


He loved chap stick and would always remind me if I left food in my purse because he would find it. He also loved underwear, and he would manage to get on his hind legs and pull out underwear that I stuffed in the bottom of the laundry basket. It was quite impressive. I would change the sheets and find underwear stuffed in between the bed and the wall. I’m not sure if he did this because he thought I was another dog like him or if he was just showing that he cared, but he would lick my hair at night like he was grooming me. Sometimes he would lick my arm or leg until he fell asleep.


One day I came home when he was a puppy, and I had apparently left the spare room door cracked. He got into my suitcase at the bottom of the closet and found a nice little bed after pulling out a few articles of clothing to decorate the floor. Then, rather precisely, he made a trail of evenly spaced out shoes out the bedroom and into the hall. It was not until I saw him with a shoe in his mouth carrying it into his dog bed(that he only got into when he did not feel well or went to the vet because he otherwise slept with me) that I saw the artwork he left for me. Also, when he was a puppy, he pierced my computer cord with his teeth and never liked any cord since then. He went crazy when I would plug something in.


So at some point Eppie moved from being a dog to being my family. He was not a pet but my baby. I called him five pounds of pure love and my baby dog. I considered him my first-born. And someday if I have children and they ask me about Eppie,I will let them know about the one that set up residence in my heart first. In doula training when we talked about our ideal birth situation and drew a picture, Eppie was there. When I thought about a wedding, I thought about putting him in a suit to stand by my side. It makes me sad about the times I had in mind that we will never share, but I am so grateful for the times that we did have together.


So how do you say goodbye to a little guy like that? No time would have been a good time. When I looked up the life expectancies of Chihuahuas when I first got him, the books said 18-21 years. I thought I had a lot more time. From time to time when I thought about the day I would lose him, I always thought I would have a full family of my own to help ease my pain. It did not happen that way.


It was sudden. I had no time to emotionally prepare. I’m still in shock that he is gone. The pitter-patter of little feet and the little jump into the bed at night is missed. His little face greeting me at the window when I pull up in the driveway is painful to not see. He would have his face at the window and watch me until he saw me go under the porch, then he raced down the stairs and was by the door to greet me when I opened it. He had it timed perfectly.


Today we wrote his name on balloons with messages and released them by the bayou. I watched the balloons until I could no longer see them. It was hard to let go of that balloon, but I kissed it and on the count of three let it go. A little while later I was running some errands and I was thinking about the balloons and how they disappeared into the sky. I looked up at the sky, and there was a rainbow without rain. I have never seen that. I looked again and found two rainbows. I like to think that it was a message from God reminding me of his promises and that He was still there. I’d also like to think it was Eppie saying thanks for the balloons sent up to heaven for him and that he would be waiting for me until we meet again.


It won’t be easy going through things that we used to share together without him. I miss his warm little body snuggled next to me. I miss his little sighs and sassiness. I miss how he always made my lap his. Computer, books,or anything else that occupied my lap would play second fiddle to Eppie. He would wedge his way into my lap,just like he waltzed into my heart and opened it up. Though I had way less time than I wanted with him, I am thankful for the time we did share. In large and small ways, my life and heart will never be the same. Thank you, Eppie, for loving me. Thank you for all the good times. Thank you for your loyalty and devotion. I’ve said before that I am looking fora guy to treat me like Eppie did, but the truth is, I do not think I ever could find one. Eppie’s love was pure,and it melted my cold, closed-off heart. So now I have to deal with the challenges of living without him. I hate being home because everything is attached to a memory of him. As much as I was wary of letting him in to my life beforehand, I am infinitely more concerned about letting go. It’s hard to say goodbye. SoI’d prefer to think of this time now as him changing his residence from my house to permanently in my heart. There was an Eppie-sized hole in my heart that only he could fill that I did not realize at the time. I will always love you, Eppie.

Mrs. C and Me

I have been putting off writing this for months. I know I have to get the story out. It is just hard because writing it feels like the final goodbye. A little over 7 years ago I was walking my dog Eppie around the neighborhood, which we did not do often because he was so small, and I ended up carrying him by the end because his little body would tire out. I needed a place to live, and I happened to find a for rent sign pointing down a driveway. I rang the doorbell, and an older lady answered. She gave me the key and told me to check it out since should could not get up the stairs.


I had fantasized about living in a garage apartment since Mike lived in one on Growing Pains. It is funny how those weird dreams you have sometimes work out. While living there, I had a unique view into Mrs. C’s life. While we lived in separate buildings, we shared a yard, a lot of meals, and many talks. I could see her house and know generally where she was in the house by what light was on. Likewise, she could see when I went to bed by my lights and knew if I never came home at night or very late.


Stepping into her house was kind of like a time capsule. It was really neat to see things preserved in time and to learn about a different way of life. She told me a lot of stories, but she alway was a good a listener. She asked questions. She knew everybody’s names from my stories. When she asked about my family, she called them by name. She cared. Mrs. C was one person genuinely interested in my life. She had a neat perspective from seeing so much in her almost century of life, but she had some progressive views. There was this one paradox that always makes me smile when I think about it. She would ask me if I found anyone special and then in the next breath tell me that I did not need any man and could be successful and not depend on anyone. She also firmly believed than none of my ex-boyfriends were good enough for me and would tell me so often.


Mrs. C fully lived life. She loved to eat and was so curious about things. She sat out in her garden and took in the day. I would get so caught up in the busyness of my life, and she would slow me down. Conversations with her would easily be 1-2 hours. In fact, unless I was jumping into my car in passing and saw her, I am not sure I ever had a conversation with her less than an hour. Some days she would be sitting on the porch and flag me down to talk. She told me that she had a book of everyone that lived in the garage apartment, and she kept up with them. I asked who lived there the longest since the 1950s when she first started this, and she turned and looked at me and told me it was me. Then she told me never to move away. I was told by a former garage apartment tenant that Mrs. C was picky about who she let in the apartment, but once you were in, you were family.


Although she never had children and grandchildren, she built strong friendships and they became an extension of her family. She was a grandmother figure in my life. I would look out for her, carry groceries inside, and fix things like the cable. I gave her lessons on the internet and Facebook. Yes, even in her 90s, she was not afraid to face the new frontier of social media. And in her own way, she looked after me. She loved fresh fruit and food. Whenever she would go to a fruit stand or farmer’s market, she put some aside for me. I learned how to preserve fruit during the time I lived in the backyard because she always insisted that I take more than I could eat. There is a funny story about this. Mrs. C volunteered at the soup kitchen until she could no longer get there. I was lucky enough to volunteer with her once and see her in her element. At the end of the day she would take leftovers home because she did not believe in food waste. She would call me over and give me leftovers. One day she gave me a sandwich. I went home and ate it. Later she called me and asked if I had eaten it because she gave me the wrong sandwich. I ate a three week old sandwich, but I never got sick. This story still brings a smile to my face.


In the end, things changed, and I did not even realize it was changing or maybe I was in denial. It got to where she could not be alone. I started spending the nights with her. I am grateful for this time because we had more conversations during this period. I do not know how I could have lived that close to someone that long without getting to know them well, but we got to know each other on another level when we stopped sharing just a yard and driveway and started sharing a house. I still had faith that she would recover. She always did. She would spend months in the hospital and rehab and always come out fine on the other side. We talked about future excursions and adventures. When I lost her, it was also the death of those dreams that could never be fulfilled. One of those dreams we talked about was the farm that she had in her hometown. I never got to spend the weekend there with her, but on the day of her funeral a family member gave me directions, and I got to have a moment of closure standing in the cotton fields.


I do not know if you are ever prepared to lose someone that you care about unless there is a long illness or dire news given to you, but losing Mrs. C felt so sudden and unbelievable. She had recovered every other time. She was tough. In the end, I felt so alone. We always looked out for one another, and then there was just me. I lost Eppie in that garage apartment too. We started off as three, and I was the lone ranger.


In the months that followed, I started rethinking our conversations and interactions over the past 7 years. I thought about things I could have said. I thought about conversations we could have had. I held on to the ones we did have. I started wondering what she thought of me. Coincidentally a few weeks after her death there was a pet blessing at her church. I always liked taking my dogs to get blessed, and I have visited just about every denomination that does it. I had not been to this denomination yet, and the timing was right for me to be able to go. When I arrived one of the priests was one that I had met at Mrs. C’s house. She told me I looked familiar, and I told her why. We then talked about the loss of Mrs. C and how I was struggling. She told me about a conversation she had with her about me a while back and how she thought that she loved me. Strangely enough, through a pet blessing I was able to get some peace. Since then family members recounted how she would tell them stories about what I was up to, and I felt better.


While I am sad about the things we will never get to do together and the fact that she will never get to see me get my PhD, something she has journeyed along with me for years, I know she is not in pain and reunited with her husband that she loved. And when you lose someone you care about, you may lose the physical presence, but you carry the memories with you. Thanks for teaching me a lot, Mrs. C, and if you can see down from heaven (which I am not sure is theologically accurate), I hope I am making you proud.

back in the Pass for a weekend

I saw Freedom Writers, and it was amazing! I laughed, and I almost cried. I wish that I could be a great teacher like that.

I'm babysitting my youngest sister...just like the old days, but this house isn't the same. There's really nothing in here that was here from before the hurricane. There's no old pictures to make me think about the past, no childhood momentos. It's really strange to be back in here. It's nice, but it's not the same.

Ever think about going to a place that someone used to spend a great deal of time and actually seeing them there, even though they moved away almost a year ago or are no longer living? I think about things like this. I went to my cousin's old apartment, and it was so weird to not see her there. I felt like she should be there. I felt like she should run around the corner or I would bump into her going down the hall. I think about this when I go to the place we worked at last year as well.

After my great-grandmother died, it took a very long time for me to go back in the house. I just could not bear going there and not having her greet me at the door. I could not imagine not hearing her slippers scuffling on the wooden floor. I've been thinking about her a lot lately. It's a cruel joke that once you can truly appreciate your great-grandparents' stories and wisdom, they are ripped away from you. I have so much to tell her. I need her advice. I need her to listen to me. I need her to tell me that everything will be alright. I had a dream about her house the other night, which is really weird since it doesn't exist anymore thanks to the hurricane. I miss her.

five years ago today

Five years ago, my great-grandmother died. I really wanted her to see me graduate that following May. Not only was I going to be the first, I was graduating as valedictorian. I wanted to make her proud.

I remember the day it happened. When I heard the news, I wouldn't accept it. It had to be wrong. Somebody messed up the name. It couldn't be her. My other great-grandmother was sick, not her. It was so sudden, so unexpected for me. She was supposed to live FOREVER. It couldn't be. It just couldn't be true.

Of course in the way my family deals with things, I was told in the car. I took the ACT morning, and I didn't know until afterwards. Incidentally, I got the magic number that day that I was shooting for. Anyway, my mom tells us and then proceeds to take us shopping for something that she wanted. I couldn't believe it. I didn't want to be shopping. I was hurting. I had wet my shirt with tears. My face was a mess. I was upset. The last place I wanted to be then was in public.

This was the first death that I had to deal with, and I was two months away from being 18. I've had other grandparents die before, but my parents never allowed me to go to the funerals. I was sent away. They believed that a funeral was not a place for a child. Therefore, it was like they just went on a trip and never came back. I never got to say goodbye to them. I need to say goodbye to her. I was almost 18 this time. I drove myself and my sisters to the wake. They deserved a chance to say goodbye, too.

This event was so devasting to me. The night before I thought about going to see her, but I decided against it. I was driving from school, and I passed her road on the way home, but I opted for a nap instead. I told myself I'd go Saturday. But there was no second chance. There was no tomorrow. I should have went when I thought about going that day before. I felt so horrible because the last thing I had told her was a promise that I'd go see her soon. It was a promise that I would never fulfill.

It wasn't her. That's not the reason I didn't go. Because of other people, relationships in my life that lived with her, I didn't go see her. I felt like a jerk.

I remember lying in the fetal position on the floor of my room until I couldn't cry anymore. My eyes were so swollen that I'm surprised my eyelids opened. After the burial, when nobody was around, I went to the grave. I had to talk to her. I had to say I'm sorry. Although she had lived a long life, it wasn't long enough for me. I wasn't ready to say goodbye. Five years later, I still can't believe she's gone.

I still miss her. She was a great woman. She taught me how to crochet and sew. Sewing and quilting were her ways to relax. I spent numerous afternoons just being with her. When I was in elementary school, I got off the bus at her house because my parents were still working.

I'd like to think that I carry some of her with me today. She cared about everyone. I don't think she ever prayed for herself; she always put the needs of others before her own. Every night she went through her list of people to pray for. In fact, she had a pet bird that started praying too after hearing her pray night after night. Her house was the place that people went to when they were having a hard time. It was sort of like a hotel. Somebody was always in and out. I can still hear her slippers scuffling on the wooden floor if I try really hard. In time, the sound of her voice is fading in my mind. I had videos of her telling jokes and stories, but the hurricane washed them away. Few pictures of her survived the storm. Even as I write this, I'm crying.

I hope that I made her proud. I hope that she knew how much she meant to me. Bread, saspirilla, pecans, pears, and crochet needles make me think of her. Her birthday is two months from today.

She was a great woman. She tried her hardest to do the right thing. She may not have been a rich woman on earth, but she was rich in spirit, humor, and love for her family.

There's a place in my heart that will always be hers. I still miss her.

not just a phone call away

Today is my great-grandmother's birthday. I had my hand on the phone to call her. Then I remembered that she's no longer alive, and not only that, her house is not even there anymore thanks to the hurricane. It's weird how in that fleeting second you can forget major things such as that. For a split second, I was thinking I really have to get in touch with her. Sadly, she is no longer a phone call away. Who is just a phone call away today that I should be calling? It made me think of calls I should be making.

Secondly, the Jewish have a thing called the Day of Atonement, or Yom Kippur. It is basically one last chance to make things right before your sins are sealed in the record of your life. It is a day to make amends and fix the wrongs and make them right in one's life. If you had a day of atonement, what would you do? It would be amazing if for one day the world practiced this. What a difference it would make in the community, state, nation, and world at large!

my second wave of goodbyes

I've been down the past few weeks, and it is not because of finals or papers, which do suck. I'm bracing myself for my 2nd wave of goodbyes. I thought last year would be hard enough. I really miss T and B being here. They understand me like no others. T has been my best friend all my life, and luckily, she is moving closer, but still things won't be the same because we aren't in the same city. Anyway, we have cars now, so we can deal.

I'm really upset about Mandy leaving. We've gotten really close these past 3 years, and I consider her one of my best friends. We always are on AIM when writing papers, and I don't know how it will be like having her on the other side of the ocean next year. How will we have our nightly IMs writing papers? I am just going to remininsce a bit. Mandy was, I don't even remember the word for it. She was on leadership team when I was on executive team, so I was like her big sister or something. What did we call those things? Anyway. She went from being whatever that was to a close friend. We suffered through McNair together and spent more time NOT doing our theses than actually doing them. Mandy made that summer fun. We both share a love of McDonald's, and it has become our thing because few other people appreciate it like we do. We've been to NYC, Disney World, Colorado (where we got food poisoned), and probably some other places that we've been that I've forgotten. So many memories. So many smiles. So much laughter. She will be sorely missed. But I'm proud of her. She's living the dream, no regrets! One day we'll be the cool grandmothers with the stories.

I think about the exciting things that are coming up, and I want to hit the pause button because I know as soon as they come, other things go, like Mandy. If only life had a pause and rewind button. But alas, life doesn't work that way. I'm grateful for the time we've had together. This is our plan - get our Ph.D.s by age thirty, start thinking about children then, find a school that we both can work at, and have our children be friends because by then all our friends' kids will be in middle school. Ha. Anyway, I know life is tricky, and maybe we won't end up in the same city, state, or country. Just know that I have my memories in my heart, and I'm dreading when you leave town next week.

There are more goodbyes coming up, but this one is the one that makes me want to cry at the moment. I LOVE YOU MANDY!!!

on death and dying

You know what kind of call it is. It's a Saturday morning, and you're sleeping late, yet somebody calls you and wakes you up. "I have a bit of bad news." No, I know that tone in your voice. I heard that sniffle. This is how you start every "bit of bad news" call. It's not a bit of bad news. It's a lot of bad news. Somebody died. Who? I remember all these calls. I remember where I am, whether I am sitting or standing, and what I was doing before I was interupted by said call. Before my mom even said who it was today, my mind was already miles ahead of her. Who was it? What happened. Dear God, please let it not be my grandmother. I don't know how I would deal with that. Not today. Not now. Not ever. Well, what am I doing about it? I should go see my grandmother now. I love her. Ahhh. Who can it be? She tells me. It's all unexpected. No it can't happen. This all a bad dream. Let me wake up. I hear rain pouring outside; it matches the tears my mom has pouring down her face right now. I immediately think of the last time I saw this person or the last mean thought I thought about the person. Why do we do this to ourselves? Is it to utterly torment ourselves about something death made it impossible to make better? We are humans. We are imperfect. That's the thing about caring. That's the thing about loving and putting yourself out there. It makes times like this worse. To love someone is to ultimately hurt a lot when they are no longer here on this earth.

And now I'm glad I didn't know
The way it all would end the way it all would go
Our lives are better left to chance I could have missed the pain
But I'd of had to miss the dance

Yes my life is better left to chance
I could have missed the pain but I'd of had to miss the dance -Garth Brooks