Tag Archives: death

Little Things

“You need to let the little things that would ordinarily bore you suddenly thrill you.”
– Andy Warhol

(Let me start this blog with a disclaimer to my child. No, Kelly – this is not a tribute to One Direction and their song of the same title. Sorry, kid.)

Ok. Back to business.

Little things.

I’ve been thinking about this topic a lot recently. Especially over these past few days. A variety of “little things” have seemed to catch my attention more lately than they might normally do.

For instance.

I went to visit my grandparents in the nursing home this past weekend. They have both been recently admitted after battling pneumonia and, unfortunately, the prognosis is not a great one for my 96-year-old grandfather. Thankfully, they have been placed in the same room so they can spend this time together, although my grandmother’s failing memory makes it hard for her to understand what is happening. But even with his sickness, and her failing memory, they both periodically asked about the other and looked over to be sure the other was still there. To me, that was beautiful. A glance to make sure the one you love is still by your side? Yes, a little thing in the grand scheme. But so very beautiful.

Also, while I was there, it was mentioned that my grandmother’s fingernails needed cutting and she hadn’t been able to do it herself. So, I cut them. Cutting your aging grandmother’s fingernails? Definitely a little thing. But it meant something to me. In my tiny little way, I was able to help. Little things.

I watched my cousin Amy feeding my grandfather.

Putting a spoon to someone’s mouth when they aren’t strong enough to do it on their own? Yes, maybe a little thing. But is it so little? I think not.

Aside from the trip to visit my grandparents (and possibly because of it), other little things started catching my attention as well.

The man I love, for instance.

Now, for those of you don’t know us personally, let me start by explaining something. I am in love with the quietest man alive. It’s true. The spoken word is not his speciality. One of his favorite quotes is by Mark Twain: “It is better to keep your mouth closed and let people think you are a fool than to open it and remove all doubt.” Smart man. Me, on the other hand? I never shut up. We are the proverbial Mutt and Jeff of verbal communication. Well, in public anyway.

But for the past few days, I seem to be “hearing” him much more clearly than I ever have before.

I’ve mentioned in previous blogs that he is letting me borrow a vehicle until I can get the insurance mess sorted out from my wreck and can get a new one. Earlier this week, the vehicle started overheating a little. So, what does he do? Gives me his own truck to drive to work so that he can keep it and check to see what’s wrong. He then fixes it and returns it – with new windshield wipers to boot because it was a rainy day. Little things? Maybe.

After dinner one night while the kids played together, I was overwhelmed with a sudden feeling of exhaustion. Usually I immediately start clearing the table after we eat (he cooks, so it’s the least I can do), but instead I asked if he’d mind if I went and laid down for a bit. Not only did he not mind, but he came and laid with me. We both ended up falling asleep and my daughter got this sweet picture of us:

A nap together as a break from a busy day? A little thing? Maybe.

Another example – Mondays are hectic for me now. My daughter was cast as Annie in our local production and I am a chorus member. We have rehearsals on Mondays and she also has dance class on Mondays. It’s hard to be in all these places at the same time, mind you. So, what does that man of mine do? Helps. He picked her up from dance and brought her back to rehearsal so that I didn’t have to leave during chorus rehearsal. And this followed him keeping her for me over the weekend so I was able to visit my grandparents like I mentioned before.

Little things?

I’m telling you. Pay attention. Those little things speak loudly if you train your ears to hear them.

A few more before I wrap up.

I ran 11 miles yesterday in honor of all who were affected by the Boston marathon bombings. It was my longest distance to date as a runner. I wore my printed-out Boston runner’s bib in tribute. While on the run, a fellow runner saw my bib as he was passing, and reached out and high-fived me. A high-five from a stranger? Definitely a little thing, but it sure had a big impact. (Before the run was over, I got a few car honks as well.)

Also – a new friend of mine who is an ultra runner celebrated my 11 mile run with me as if it were her own personal victory. Did I mention she’s an ultra runner? She has run in a 130-mile race. Yes, you read that right. One hundred and thirty miles. And she celebrated my 11 like it was the greatest thing on earth. Little things.

A random sweet text from my son; an email from a friend saying that my blog has inspired them to start running; getting chills while listening to a room full of little girls singing songs at a rehearsal for Annie….

I have to make myself stop. This list could go on and on and on.

And isn’t that awesome?

Take the time to notice them. They’re everywhere. All of these little things are what make this crazy ride called life worthwhile. Unfortunately, we are sometimes too busy to appreciate them. But we need to stop that. These may be the memories that fill our minds one day when we’re looking back on our past – the same ones that we might forget to give a second glance to in the present. So, stop. Look around. Hear the things that aren’t being said – see the things that aren’t so obvious. Be grateful. Be appreciative. Be alive.

Now, go make your list of little things.

***

“Half the joy of life is in little things taken on the run…
but let us keep our hearts young and our eyes open that nothing worth our while shall escape us.”
– Victor Cherbuliez

Posted by Melissa Edmondson. Categories: Freestyle Writings/Musings. Tags: accident, blog, change, changed, dating, daughter, death, family, friendship, grandparents, health, heart, history, inspiration, inspirational, little, loss, love, memories, motivation, motivational, passion, photos, Quotes, relationships, runner, running, theatre, things, wreck, writing. 2 Comments

Apr. ’13

Rainbow

“My heart leaps up when I behold a rainbow in the sky.”
– William Wordsworth

[Warning: This is going to be one of those fuzzy warm feel-good kinda blogs. I mean, it’s about a rainbow. You had to see that coming. Don’t say I didn’t warn you…]

Ok, so I know sometimes I think too much. Sometimes I might see more in a situation than what might really be there. I get that about myself. (Of course, in my defense, I still stand by the fact that it’s better to see too much than to see too little.) But I had a pretty cool experience this morning and I want to share it.

As most of you know, I had a car accident a week ago yesterday. My car flipped down a bank and was totaled, but thank God I walked away with just a headache and a few scrapes. Now that I’m ok, I get to deal with a different kind of headache…the avalanche of insurance paperwork aftermath. Ugh. But in all the crap I’m having to deal with, there’s one thing I’m not having to worry about. And that’s transportation. My incredibly generous boyfriend has offered me a spare vehicle to drive.

And it’s not just any ol’ vehicle, mind you. It was his dad’s.

Richard’s dad passed away a few years ago, and he meant the absolute world to him. I know he misses him every single day. So, I know that trusting me to drive his vehicle is a pretty big deal. I, unfortunately, didn’t have the pleasure of knowing him. I came into Richard’s life just a little too late. And from what I have come to understand, I really missed out. I remember over a year ago when Richard and I first started seeing each other. Anytime I would mention the name of the guy I was dating, local people would say, “Oh, Richard? Yeah I know him. Great guy. Clyde was his dad, right? Clyde was such a good man…” It never failed. Happened every single time. I hope I’m remembered like that one day.

And incidentally, even though I never met him personally, I feel like I know him by knowing Richard. Because from what I’ve heard of him, his son is just like him. I have a Keith Urban CD with a song on it called “Song for Dad.” Here’s an excerpt from the lyrics:

In everything he ever did
He always did with love
And I’m proud today to say I’m his son
When somebody says I hope I get to meet your dad
I just smile and say you already have.

So yeah. In a way, I already have.

So, anyway, back to the rainbow.

This morning, as I was driving to work in Clyde’s vehicle, I was thinking about all of this. I was just feeling so grateful for having a way to get work, and was thinking about the huge amount of generosity that allowed for that. Which made me remember another thing that I’ve heard about Richard’s dad. Richard has always talked about how his dad was always so willing to help anyone who needed it. And he would do these things quietly, without fanfare or recognition. He just wanted to help. As I remembered this, I realized that his legacy is still living on. He’s helping me, someone he’s never even met – through his son. He’s letting me borrow his car. And he’s doing it quietly. Without recognition. Without fanfare.

Something about that thought made me feel better about using the vehicle like I am. Rather than feeling like a burden, I feel like I’m helping a story to continue on like it should. Make sense?

And I kid you not – the very moment that thought crossed my mind, I glanced up and there was this gorgeous rainbow stretching across the sky. I mean it, it was absolutely beautiful.

Just a scientific coincidence? Maybe. Maybe it meant nothing at all.

But could it have been more than that? A gentle agreeable “nod” from beyond? A sign?

Yes. Maybe it was. At least I like to think so.

In fact, I like to think that signs like that are all around us a lot more often than we take the time to notice. We just have to remember to keep looking up to see them.

***

“There’s a rainbow in the sky all the time – don’t be blind.”
– Ziggy Marley

Posted by Melissa Edmondson. Categories: Freestyle Writings/Musings. Tags: accident, blog, change, changed, death, inspiration, inspirational, loss, love, motivation, motivational, photos, Quotes, rainbow, relationships, wreck, writing. Leave a comment

Mar. ’13

Cemetery

“The only people without problems are those in cemeteries.”
– Anthony Robbins

(Photo above is taken at one of my favorite places – an old, somewhat abandoned graveyard on Round House Road in Grayson County, Virginia.)

I like cemeteries.

I know. Weird, right? But I do. I always have. And I got it honest. I remember my daddy and I going to cemeteries and just walking through them in silence. Not really saying anything, not even discussing what the heck we were doing there or why, but just walking around, reading the stones. I’m not really sure what he was thinking (hmmm…maybe I should ask), but I know what I was thinking. I was inventing lives for the people in my head. I was looking at the time differences between the deaths of couples and wondering what it was like for the survivor during the interim. Wondering how often they sat at that very spot visiting the grave where they are now buried themselves. Wondering if the death of their loved one changed them…made them live life differently after that, with more of a purpose or awareness of how it could all end at any time.

Yep, all that stuff went through my head even as a child. I’ve always been weird.

Well, this weekend I found myself drawn back to the same abandoned cemetery that I seem to be drawn to a lot lately. I hadn’t been there in a while because of the winter weather, so it was nice to visit again. It’s almost like visiting an old friend in a way. For some reason, no matter how down or low I’m feeling, I find myself feeling better when I’m surrounded by these graves. How weird is that? Sitting there, I wondered that very thing – why in the world does being around these seemingly forgotten graves make me feel at peace? Then, it dawned on me.

I was surrounded by silence.

Hmmm. Mystery solved.

I’m drawn to this particular spot because I’m forced into silence. There’s no one to talk to, no one to listen to, no need to put on airs or be someone I’m not. I can just be me in the stillness. I can cry if I want. I can smile. I can feel nothing. It’s all accepted. I’m surrounded by spirits of those who have gone before me. Those who have felt all of those feelings before and will never have the chance to feel them again. I’m allowed to just be; to feel whatever I want, and know that I’m blessed to do so, and will not be judged. I can be reminded that, unlike my unknown companions, I am still alive. My heart is still beating. There is still time to say the things that need to be said, time to apologize for any wrongdoings, or, in some cases, to just learn to simply let things be. In the stillness, surrounded by my silent audience, I can say my goodbyes. Not for anyone else’s sake, but for my own. I can let go.

Then, the real world starts tapping on my shoulder, and I realize it’s time to leave.

I pick myself up; dust myself off; bid my silent friends a quiet farewell; and go back to the hustle and bustle that I call my life.

***

“Cemeteries are full of unfulfilled dreams… countless echoes of ‘could have’ and ‘should have’… countless books unwritten… countless songs unsung… I want to live my life in such a way that when my body is laid to rest, it will be a well needed rest from a life well lived, a song well sung, a book well written, opportunities well explored, and a love well expressed.”
– Steve Maraboli

Posted by Melissa Edmondson. Categories: Freestyle Writings/Musings. Tags: blog, cemeteries, death, goodbye, heart, heartbreak, inspiration, inspirational, loss, love, motivation, motivational, Quotes, relationships, writing. Leave a comment

Mar. ’13

What if?

My heart is heavy this morning.

One of my facebook friends (someone who I just had a notable interaction with last week – and who inspired one of my blogs), passed away yesterday. And from what I understand, she passed away from circumstances (possibly accidental) that resulted in her ending her own life.

(Now, let me just stop here. I do sometimes think that I shouldn’t blog about something this serious. But, as I said when I first started this blog and put in my “About My Junk” section that describes this page, this is going to be a “blog about life.” This is part of life. And that’s what this entry is going to be about. Life.)

Whether you know a person well or not, when you hear news like this it tends to stop you in your tracks. It makes you look around your own world and ‘take stock,’ so to speak. It makes you value each and every breath your body is taking in and exhaling out. It makes you want to grab everyone you love and tell them so. It makes you want to grab strangers on the street and tell them that they’re loved. It makes you want to fall down on your knees and thank your God for another day on this earth.

And if it doesn’t make you feel all those things – well, it should.

And you know what else it should make you do? It should make you be kind to people. All people.

How do you know that you wouldn’t be that one smiling face that someone would have needed to see – that you wouldn’t hold that one kind word that someone might have needed to hear?

Yesterday I got into an argument with a stranger in the middle of the street. Nope – not kidding. True story. It was over who had the right of way when we almost hit each other. Now, granted – this person started getting testy with me first (I’m not generally a ‘road rage’ kind of gal), but I could have easily just apologized profusely, smiled, and went on with my day. But nope. In typical Melissa fashion, I argued my point and both of us ‘left the scene’ in anger. And until today, it really hadn’t crossed my mind again.

But now – here it is.

I don’t even know that person! What if? You know? What if that person was just coming home from a funeral? A chemo treatment? Taking care of an aging parent? A dying relative? What if they had a drug problem? An alcohol problem? What if…

What if they were on their way home to end it all? What if I could have given the one smile – the one kind word – that would have changed that?

Dramatic? Maybe.

Maybe not.

What if you, unknowingly, have been the last person someone interacted with before they were gone? Let that sink in for a minute.

Now, I’m not saying that there should be guilt or that you could have changed anything. But what if your face – your attitude – was the last display of humanity that someone ever witnessed?

Ouch.

I’m not preaching here. By no means. These blog entries are just as much for me as they are for anyone else. I just know that I need to do better. Do you?

My heart goes out to the family and friends during this loss. I know their next few days will be filled with confusion and grief beyond anything they’ve ever known. I happen to know a little bit about the subject myself.

In closing, I want to post a poem I wrote on another sad March day a few years ago when our family went through this kind of loss.

Poem for Mike
I sat down with pen and paper
To pour out this grief I feel
To try to find the rhyme and reason
And to make this all seem real.
But I just cannot find the words
To move this useless pen
No poem or song could ever explain
Why your life had to end.
What phrase could mend these broken hearts-
What rhyme could make sense of it all?
The pain is too large to comprehend
And my words – they are too small.
I hope you have found that peace, my friend-
That illusion you were seeking to find
While the remaining trudge through the confusion
In this world you’ve left behind.

Hold on to each other tight, folks. Reach out. Know what you have. Look around you – and know it. Feel it. Appreciate it.

We truly are the lucky ones.

Posted by Melissa Edmondson. Categories: Freestyle Writings/Musings. Tags: blog, death, friendship, inspiration, inspirational, loss, motivation, motivational, poetry, Quotes, relationships, writing. 2 Comments

Feb. ’13

Uphill Both Ways

“When I was your age, we had to walk to school uphill both ways…”
– Every Older Person There Ever Was

Yesterday I ran a route that I’ve been wanting to run ever since I started running. There hasn’t been much of a reason why I haven’t done it yet. At first, I wasn’t ready for it (physically or mentally); then I wanted to wait for a special occasion on the calendar (all of which came and went); then it was Winter, etc. etc. etc. Not sure why I put it off as long as I did. But yesterday, without even any true destination in mind, I put my running clothes on, hopped in the car, and just drove. I ended up here:

This is the house that is still standing in the Potato Creek community in Virginia, where my grandpa was born and raised. He passed away in February of last year.

He wasn’t much of a talker when he was with us. Very quiet – filled with secrets. But my grandmother filled in the gaps. Through her, I’ve heard about the house he grew up in and have learned about the hilly path he had to walk on to school and back and everyday. I’ve driven this path many times, but ever since I became a runner, I have always wanted to run it. It’s not that far to me now (a little more than four miles), but when I first started running, I knew I wasn’t ready for that distance. And distance wasn’t really the issue anyway. Holy crap, is that thing hilly! But I kept telling myself that one day I would be ready to run it. Turns out, yesterday was the day.

This may have been one of my favorite runs ever. It may sound crazy, but a part of me felt like my Pa-Paw was actually running with me. I’m not sure he cared for the Kelly Clarkson, Pink, and Cee Lo Green that was busting out of my headphones, but nonetheless, I think he kept up. In fact, I think he probably passed me a few times. Especially on those dang hills! Did I mention there were hills? (From now on, when an older person tells me they walked uphill to school both ways, I’m not questioning that statement. I just found out for myself!)

But man, were those hills beautiful. The whole route was beautiful. For a little less than an hour, I stopped thinking, stopped feeling, stopped obsessing, and just ran with my grandpa.

The old school that he went to is no longer standing. From what I understand, it burned down years ago (long after it was no longer used as a school and was just being used as a barn for local farmland). After the run, I went and looked at the area a little and this was the only remnants of the school that I found:

Here’s a view of the whole area where the school stood:

And still standing (and still in operation on occasion) just beside the old school land is the church that he attended – Potato Creek Church. Such a beautiful old place that holds many many memories, I’m sure.

And since I’m sharing pictures, I have to share one last one. Now, I can’t remember – did I mention that this run was hilly? HOLY COW, it was hilly. And at one point, I kid you not, I saw something painted on the road that cracked me up. I’m convinced that someone else before me tried to run this thing and happened to be carrying a can of spray paint along with them on thier run:

I feel ya, fellow runner. That’s exactly how I felt too!

So, anyway, this blog is not going to be like most of my others. I usually try to wrap up with some type of life lesson that I’ve learned from some experience. But nope. Not this time. I just wanted to tell you about a run with my grandpa that I finally took the time to do. A run where I cleared my mind, appreciated the scenery, traveled back in time in my mind to try to experience what it had been like for my ancestors before me. You know – just took a break from everything else and appreciated who I was and where I came from.

Hmmm. Maybe there’s a life lesson to be learned in this after all.

Thanks for the run, Pa-Paw.