Day 531
52 Kind Things
Hmmm. This week, I'm not sure I have much to write about in this department. Especially because this entire past week, it was my family doing kind things for each other. Like my parents who paid for the majority of our vacation home this past week. A big beach house with a huge pool. Or my mom who cleaned up after practically every breakfast and lunch. Not because we wanted her to, but because the rest of us were busy getting things together for the beach, and putting sun block on four babies for the day. Which is like trying to wrestle a wild bull to the ground with your bare hands, by the way. My mom cleaned it all up. And she never complained about it either. My dad bought different pies every night of the week for dessert. We dined on apple pie, strawberry rhubarb pie, blueberry pie, peach pie. All served warm with vanilla ice cream. I mean, it was vacation, after all. My sister and my mom didn't scream at me when I accidentally locked them out of the house with two naked kids while I bathed Adelyn and Tobin. They laughed it off. I found that to be particularly kind because if it was me who was locked out of the house with a naked Addy and a naked Tobin, I would have been super pissed off.
Not really sure that this counts as something kind, but I helped Patty clean up the kitchen after dinner one night. It was Patty and AJ's turn to cook. Each family took two nights to cook dinner, and then clean up after dinner. It wasn't my night, but I helped anyways. I also vacuumed the house to get it ready for the next family coming in. Again, not really sure this counts. We had four kids running around making crumbs everywhere, so vacuuming was kind of just the right thing to do. But, since it wasn't required, I guess it could count as something kind. Honestly, I was seriously blown away at all the kindness shown to me this week. I don't deserve such amazing people.
52 People I Love
Because it's Father's Day, I would like to say this:
I so very much love my incredible husband. He amazes me. Working two jobs for our family. Spending every last dime on us. Spending all his free time with us. He is the definition of devoted. And I'm honored to be his wife. I'm proud to call him, husband. I'm proud to call him, father of my children. With every passing day, I love him more. I'm the luckiest woman to have him to love. My life would be dark without the light and love he shines on me daily.
I so very much love my incredible dad. He is an amazing father. He is full of life. Full of fun. Full of wisdom. He works so hard for the ones he loves. He is the most generous man I have ever known. He would give the shirt off his back to a stranger. He loves so passionately. I've always been told that I am just like him. I'm proud to be. I'm proud to be just like my dad. My dad who loves deeply, gives freely with no need for recognition, and lives fearlessly. And to this day, whenever I feel very, very, very afraid of something, I call my dad. Because no matter how old I get, I know that my dad will always protect me, take care of me, and love me.
I so very much love Armando. My brother in law on paper. But he has become the big brother I never had. We love to joke with each other. And we have an on-going "war." We try to get each other. I push him. Or steal his last piece of pie. He pushes me in the pool. Stuff like that. He was the last one to get me the best. He attacked me with whipped cream. He got me so good, I had to take a shower. It was in my ear. Slicked throughout my hair. I love that he lets me have Patty all to myself sometimes. He isn't selfish with her. He knows I need her. I love that he is like a second father to my children. Our family is blessed to have him. And I love him dearly.
Been thinking about Bill the past few weeks. Been talking about him often. I miss him. Matt and I say how sad we are that he isn't around to see his grandchildren grow up. He would have been an incredible grandfather. And our children would have adored him. But here's what I think. Maybe, just maybe, even in heaven, there was something missing for him. The chance to be a grandfather. And maybe, because I think that River was the sweetest, most precious girl ever, God knew Bill needed her. I picture them up there together sometimes. Doing things that grandfathers and granddaughters do together. Reading. Playing. Eating ice cream. Cuddling. And it gives my heart tremendous peace to know they are together in paradise.
I've also been thinking about Papa. My dad's father. We were talking about him a lot on vacation. Mostly while we were swimming in the pool. Papa used to do this thing where he would sit on a ball, and use his arms to swim the length of the pool. We did that all this past week. We would take turns seeing who could do it. It's actually really hard to do. He made it look easy. We talked about how he used to have a tall plastic cup that he would drink water out of all day long. Such seemingly forgettable things. Yet, not a one of us has forgotten them. I think the reason for that is because it's not really the biggest things you remember about a person. It's the little things. The tiny details that make them who they are. I miss him so much. I miss the way he would steal my ice cream during dessert. I miss the way he called my grandmother, Patsy. I miss the smell of his computer room in Florida. Most of all, I miss him because he was so much fun. He loved to laugh, and he loved to make people laugh. He had the best deep, belly laugh I've ever heard. And I love him for all the laughter, love, and life he brought to our family.
I so very much love my grandfather. Poppy, we call him. I love talking with him. I love that he loves sports, just like Matt does. There is a certain noise, "sports noise," I call it, that happens during every sporting event. The dull roar of the crowd. The announcer. If that's even what you call the guy. The honest truth is, I hate, "sports noise." But there is a certain sense of peace I feel whenever I hear it. I first heard it at my grandparents house in Maryland. At every family dinner. At every holiday meal. There was the noise. And even though I'm not a sports girl, the noise brings with it a sense of familiarity and home. I still feel that whenever Matt watches sports now. I hate it. But sometimes, I feel that peaceful feeling just as I did those many years ago. Sitting on Poppy's lap. Listening to that garble as he massaged my finger tips. He would press down hard with two fingers and give my finger tip a wiggle. I have no idea why it felt so good. Maybe it's because no one really ever takes the time to massage a person's finger tips. But he did. As we listened to sports noise together. And I love him for that.
The last father I want to write about tonight is my mom's dad. Pop-pop, we call him. We didn't spend much time together. But there is one thing he did for me that forever changed the way I saw him. It was October 15, 2011. The day of River's memorial service. He was the first to arrive. Dressed very handsomely in a black suit. I'm sure he felt awkward being the first to arrive. We were all kind of scrambling a bit to get a few last minute things together. He came up to me, hugged me, told me how deeply sorry he was for me. And then he said this. "I know I haven't been around much, and I haven't been the best grandfather, but I look around here today at all this, and I think, well, I had something to do with this. If it wasn't for me, none of this would exist. And that means something to me." He was so honored to be there. He was so proud to be a part of my life. He looked around at everything and everyone at River's memorial service, and he saw something more. Not just sorrow, but love. And life. And the fact that that meant something to him, means something to me. I'm thankful for him. And I love him. Very much.
Thankful for fathers. Thankful to have so many amazing men in my life.
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