Happy Valentine's Day to my faithful blog followers! I hope this day finds you celebrating with your significant other or at least surrounding yourselves with those you love and perhaps large quantities of dark chocolate. In one particularly telling episode of Sex and the City, we learn that each woman can expect to have three great loves in their lifetime. Three! I think I'll settle for just one if that's alright. Three great loves must mean two incredible heartbreaks, a part of the story that I'd rather skip. I think on Valentine's Day, I'll pretend that my fairy-tale ending is right around the corner, that Prince Charming has just been waiting for the exact moment to make himself known! And until then, I'll settle for a romantic comedy and an extra-large box of chocolates.
Despite the magic of today for many, the past week has been filled with loss both close to home and much farther away. First, Whitney Houston, the singer whose music brings my senses immediately back to a dance studio, slightly out-of-style leg warmers, and the period of approximately one year where I insisted that white ballet shoes instead of the traditional pink were necessary to maintain my social status and to avoid ruining my life forever. Most of my former roommates can attest to the fact that Whitney Houston was the soundtrack to research papers, midterms, and many unofficial study breaks. I am also a not so acclaimed car and shower singer, which Whitney Houston lent herself too quite well. So, for today, her iconic voice remains on my playlist, the Bodyguard as one of the best classically romantic films, and her music forever tied to memories. From a different part of the world, the town of Clemson lost not only their mayor and leader, but an influential and inspirational man, Larry Abernathy. I have more memories of Larry as a child, as he was a co-worker and close friend to my Mom. A trip to my Mom's office always meant a great big bear hug from Larry and often included a piece of candy or some type of treat for my brother and I. Many years later, as a Clemson student, if I happened to run into Larry on campus, I could still expect the same bear hug, and a reminder of how much I looked like my Mom. Clemson will never be able to replace him but will forever be changed by his work and passion for the community.
And finally, the loss of my dear "Unck," a great-great-uncle by name, but so much more in spirit. In the past year, I developed a friendship with Unck after moving to an area that was much closer to him. It transcended the letters and phone calls that had primarily comprised our relationship up to that point. He was homebound in the last few years of his life, relying on oxygen, but relishing in the opportunities to "putter" around as he jokingly put it, fixing vacuum cleaner parts on the kitchen table, sending cards, reading the paper cover to cover each day, and enjoying daily visits from neighbors and a hand-delivered lunch from the elementary school cafeteria across the street. He admitted that the pizza left much to be desired and needed to be cooked longer, but the fruit and jello received rave reviews! A decorated war hero, earning both a Purple Heart and Silver star, Unck preferred to decorate his mantel with pictures of all of his relatives, perhaps thinking of them as his "children" as he never married or had children of his own, although is likely rejoicing today in reuniting with his dear lady-friend Jane. When he knew you would be visiting, your photo would be moved to the center of the mantel or another equally visible place. Our visits were special and he had me into a full-blown belly laugh before I even sat down, giving me the "low-down" on the family news, telling me a story about my grandmother from the good-old days, and always worrying about my drive to work and what I ate in the middle of my shift. And by the way, he'd ask, do you think you could find that lemon poundcake that you brought last time? How about some sugar-free jello? My sweet Unck, how I will miss your phone calls and our visits, always calling me "the little girl," as I was fairly certain sometimes it was hard for you to remember my name, and always reminding me how special my grandmother was just in case I had forgotten. Each visit ended with a kiss to the top of your head and you telling me to watch out for traffic "going over that damn bridge!" You were so loved by everyone who knew you, an example of what living life to the fullest really means. While I wish I had more time with you, I'm so grateful we built our own special friendship. Until we meet again, I love you to the moon and back!
To my blog followers, yet many more reminders this week of how important it is to cherish time spent with family and friends, however short that time may be. Every single night before bed, Unck picked up the phone to call his brother. Every single night, even in times of illness and tragedy. I hope that you will seek out regular connections to those you love, even if they are far away. Grief is a funny thing, often challenging and taunting you to think of the things you didn't do or say, rather than giving yourself permission to remember and smile. For those of you who have lost loved ones, I hope you give yourself permission to smile, and allow yourself to be flooded with warm memories. So, to quote Whitney, "And when melodies are gone, I look to you." Blessings to all you love in this world!
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