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But

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Words escape me right now and any description for our weekend will have to be told through the few photos that I snapped over the last days. The last four days for us were full of nothing and everything.  Spending time together as a family has seemed to be the best way to swallow these long weekends and I wouldn’t trade it for all the peanut butter M&Ms in the world.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Between workouts, eating cupcakes, BBQs and birthdays, we found ourselves engrossed in our books, the garden and a new Netflix series. Ahhh…..staycation.

But.

This weekend also marked 17 years ago that my grandpa died the day before his birthday. The days and weeks leading up to his death are etched in my brain, as it was my first experience with death as person old enough to partially grasp the gravity of his passing.  My mom, her sisters and my grandmother formed a small tribe to ensure that his last days home were comfortable and full of love. They were, of course.

In some ways things don’t really change. 17 years is a lifetime, but not really.  I said my goodbyes to my grandpa, at the urging of my grandma, while he could still respond via touch. He squeezed my hand in response to my blubbery love-filled chatter. When he died the next day, I was at  my other grandparent’s house helping to celebrate Chaya’s birthday. She was having a sleepover and I was to join the party.

Last night we went over to my grandparent’s house to celebrate Chaya’s birthday and there was talk about my Grandpa Lowman, what a remarkable man he was. And he was, plus more.  Seventeen years have come and gone and still stories are getting told that make us laugh. He was nothing short of a character.

Yes, 17 years is a long time. A lifetime in some cases.

But.

We’re still celebrating life and we’re still honoring his memory. This weekend I honored my grandfather simply by loving the life that I live and those that I share it with.

He sure would have loved sharing a slice of Chaya’s birthday cake with Mags.


Posted on

Club Mama

 

 

Growing up, Mother’s Day for me meant meeting up with both sides of my family at the Rosario Beach, eating oysters, adding whipped cream to my grandma’s tarts and playing with my cousins. If the weather was nice enough perhaps a canoe was available for rides and the beach ready for frolicking.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It took me a  long time, well into adulthood, to realize that I come from a very unique family, one where in-laws intermingle with one another and my sets of grandparents are great friends. My two grandmothers sitting and chatting together is not uncommon. For the life of me, as a child I couldn’t understand how other families didn’t mingle in such a way.

 

As my parent’s house filled on Sunday with different combinations of family members showing up with arms full of food and flowers, I thought to myself how traditions come about.  How over the years Mother’s Day must have been a convenient    time for our tribe to gather and it made sense to do so in the middle of everyone, which happens to be my parent’s house and nearby parks.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Keeping with the tradition of seeing family on the Mother’s Day weekend, we zipped up to Barry’s parent’s house before we headed over to Anacortes and were also able to stop by to see his grandmother and grandparents. This meant that Maggie got to see all ten of her grandparents within a 24 hour period. I’m nearly certain that this has never happened before.

Maggie did not disappoint and connected with each of them, pointing, pinching and generally making them solidify their membership into her fan club. Stamps of approval all around.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So, Mother’s Day. Thinking back to last year, a fresh member to  Club Mama, I hardly remember the day or at least I hardly remember feeling like I was useful or even myself. This year I felt full of life and energy. I have more of a firm grip on motherhood and how to be ME at the same time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I didn’t slurp on any oysters or even walk on the beach this Mother’s Day weekend, but I did see some of my cousins, chat up all my grandparents (Barry’s too!) and enjoy the family filled festivities.

And, most importantly, I got to spend the day with my mother and daughter.