Grief, proportion and life transitions

September 7, 2009 at 11:07 pm (Uncategorized)
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As you may have noticed in my last few posts, the last couple of weeks have been difficult for me. I don’t handle loss well…but then I guess not many people do. Perhaps the loss of my mother at such a young age exaggerates the feeling out of proportion…but exactly what is proportionate? Yes, Diddy was “just” a dog; but he was also a member of my family – one in which I invested considerable emotion and attachment.

The immediate aftermath of Diddy’s death caused me to imagine how he was feeling – being lost and alone – at the time of his death. Alone is a HUGE feeling for me and I’m aware I transfer this feeling when I experience any kind of loss. I’m guessing that’s because that was a huge feeling I had after my mother died. Feeling alone and unprotected; feeling unsafe…these are all feelings I battle still. So after a few days I recognized that I had transferred all these feelings onto Diddy…that these are the things he must have been feeling in those hours he was lost and then killed. And those imaginings – of how Diddy was feeling – tortured me. Literally. I ached with my grief and I felt so responsible because it was MY job to protect him.

Isn’t it amazing how the traumas in our lives continue to affect us – years and years later? Once I recognized that these were my disproportionate feelings; that these were the feelings I continue to deal with, I could let go of much of the pain. Or maybe a therapist would say that my pain moved back into the realm of appropriate proportion.

Last week I was at lunch with a friend and my family doctor came into the restaurant. I hadn’t seen her for about 6 months, since I hadn’t been sick. I really like this woman. She had been our doctor for more than 8 years, ever since we moved here. She helped me through some difficult times of illness with my daughter. I really came to trust and depend on her.

After she greeted me, she broke the news that she had left the practice the week before and was moving about 40 miles away and joining another practice so she could be closer to her parents – who are growing older. I was shocked at the depth of my reaction. She moved on to a nearby booth with her party and I found myself choked up, my eyes welled up with tears. Another loss. The alone feeling came over me and I was amazed at my reaction. I had depended on her to take care of me and to take care of my daughter…and she was leaving us. Who would take care of us? There it is again…the loss of my mother STILL affecting my life; still causing my loss reactions to be out of proportion.

The grief seems to bubble up more easily these days…TV shows and those Hallmark commercials can make me cry. Pretty much everything can make me feel like crying. I’ve been doing a lot of reflection on why I am so ultra sensitive now and I realize that I have a lot going on in my life right now.

I’ve started my own business which creates financial stress. My only daughter is getting married and though I am overjoyed for her and her fiance…I am fighting the alone feelings, which I am sure are out of proportion. There is a grieving process that goes along with life transitions. Grieving the loss of security of a “regular” paycheck; grieving the loss of my little girl while celebrating the woman she’s becoming; grieving the loss of what was my life these past 12 years that we’ve been on our own while looking forward to a new life.

All of this grief was compounded by the loss of my beloved Diddy…So I guess it seems understandable why my pain and reactions are out of proportion right now. It could also be physical – menopause perhaps. I may even be a bit depressed. My sister has reminded me to take my vitamins, especially the Bs to help even out my mood; which I am doing.

I will bounce back. One thing I know about myself is that I am resilient. I have had to be. Besides, I have a wedding to plan.

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The Rainbow Bridge

September 2, 2009 at 10:34 pm (Uncategorized)
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It’s been just over a week since I lost Diddy. It’s funny how we mark time according to significant events that take place in our lives. I consider the loss of a pet a significant event. Apparently I am not alone. The most remarkable thing happened today related to my loss.

Today our local weekly newspaper came out. This past Monday I wrote and submitted a letter to the editor to be included in the paper. It was a letter addressed to the people of this community who had helped me look for Diddy. It was a letter of appreciation to the mailmen who called each other while on their walking routes and alerted one another to the search for Diddy; it was a thank you to the people on their porches, the people that walk in the community; the Domino’s delivery drivers, the construction guys – all of whom were keeping their eyes peeled for a lost black greyhound.

It was a letter that told all the people who had helped what the sad outcome was for my sweet Diddy. It was a letter of loss and a letter of deep appreciation. It was a letter that helped me begin to heal.

What has surprised me is the outpouring of support and caring from people I’d never met. This week I have spent time out in my front yard and so many people who walked by inquired about Diddy. All expressed their concern and dismay at Diddy’s loss.

Tonight, a man who was a stranger to me walked up my front walk, as I was working in my front yard, and asked if I was the one who had lost the greyhound. He handed me an envelope as he explained he and his wife had read my letter to the editor in today’s paper and he felt he needed to come by and express his condolences. He, too, is a greyhound owner. His grey, China, is 11.5 years old. He was clearly emotional as I pointed out my other three greys panting at the screen door and I told him a little bit about Did.  He told me he had seen the signs I had posted around town but he hadn’t seen a black greyhound. I was a little surprised and deeply touched by this brief exchange. I thanked him for coming by and he turned and walked away.

I turned my attention to the envelope he had handed me – at first thinking that he had tucked a copy of the letter to the editor inside for me to keep. When I opened it I found a 2 page hand-written letter from this man and his wife that told me of their sadness at my loss and a little bit about their rescued greyhound, China. Following that paragraph was this:

The Rainbow Bridge

It is called the “Rainbow Bridge” because of its many colors. Just this side of the Rainbow Bridge there is a land of meadows, hills and valleys with lush green grass. When a beloved pet dies, the pet goes to this place. There is always food and water and warm spring weather. The old & frail animals are young again. Those who are maimed are made whole again. They play all day with each other. There is only one thing missing. They are not with their special person who loved them on earth. So – each day they run and play until the day comes when one suddenly stops playing and looks up. His nose twitches! His ears go up! His eyes begin to shine. And this one suddenly runs from the group. You have been seen! And when you and your special friend meet, you take him into your arms and embrace. He kisses your face over & over and you look once more into the face of your trusting pet. Then, together, you cross the Rainbow Bridge, never to be separated.

It is a beautiful sentiment that this man, my neighbor, included in his letter and I can picture Diddy in this place of warm spring days - waiting for me and I am comforted because I know his spirit and mine will meet again. Until then he is safe, warm and happy.

Play well Diddy, until we meet again and cross that Rainbow Bridge…together.

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Diddy redux…

August 29, 2009 at 9:26 pm (Uncategorized)

It’s been 5 days since Diddy died and I’ve noticed two things. His absence is noticeable in my day-to-day routine and I have less work. Diddy was definitely a high maintenance boy. Oh, he was worth every minute of my time but I never realized how much I spent on him.

It feels strange not to have him with me. I still call Tuck Diddy by mistake. I still get weepy, especially at night when life gets quieter and things slow down. It’s been a stressful week.

Bob was kind enough to take Diddy’s collar off before taking his body to the vet’s for cremation. He gave it to me and I threw it onto the floor of my car on the front passenger side. I can see it if I pull myself up on the steering wheel and look over, and I have looked a few times. But I’m not ready to bring it into the house yet. I guess it’s a form of denial – or perhaps I’m ignoring it altogether…pretending it didn’t really happen.

Last fall a photographer from Gettysburg came to my house to take some pictures of my dogs for a show she was doing. There were some great shots. I bought some enlargements and had stashed them in a drawer to be framed and hung some day. I guess that day will come as soon as I can gather the courage to look at those photos.

I guess I’m making some progress in my healing. For the first time since Diddy died, I have felt like tackling this blog again. Maybe in a few days, I won’t need to write about this anymore.

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A Requiem for Diddy…

August 25, 2009 at 9:46 pm (Uncategorized)
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My heart is aching tonight. I lost my special boy today; my beautiful greyhound Diddy. He was black, sleek and very beautiful. I named him Diddy because when I brought him home 13 months ago, he was quite taken with looking at himself in the mirror. His track name was JJ’s Miami though he never raced. Diddy was a spook;  which meant that he had tremendous social anxiety and was extremely afraid of people and new experiences.

I brought Diddy home last July. I was so excited to add him to “my pack” of two other greyhounds and a cocker spaniel. He was physically beautiful and the fact that he was a special needs dog made me want to help him even more. He took a long time to warm up to me. I just kept giving him his space and talking to him. Soon, I was on the floor near him, trying to show him I was worthy of his trust. After a few weeks, he let me stroke him but kept a wary eye on me.

I worked hard to show him that living here with me was a safe place for him. It took him a very long time, but he attached to me and from that point on he was always on my hip. He trusted me. He sought me out for affection. When I got out of my chair in the livingroom, he got into it. If I left my bedroom door open, he was nestled into my bed with his head on my pillow. I was so proud of his progress.

Just this past Easter day, Diddy cockroached for the first time. Cockroaching is when a dog lies on his back with his underside exposed and his feet in the air. I remember specifically smiling to myself when I saw him do that. That was a message that he was feeling safe in my home. A lot of progress made in about 9 months.

Oh, he still often retreated upstairs when company arrived. But sometimes he stayed downstairs and watched warily from the other room. He had a little quirk where he would puff out his cheeks as he was breathing – when he was nervous. I loved that little puff in his cheek.

He was acclimating to my daughter as well. They didn’t hit it off right away. My daughter was used to my other greys who were calm and loving. She had a hard time understanding why Diddy just didn’t “get over” his spookiness. She was frustrated that he didn’t warm up to her right away. So they kept their distance from each other for a while. But Diddy was coming around. In the last month or so, Diddy felt safe enough around my daughter that he would stay in the livingroom when she came in and had even started allowing her to pet him. More progress.

But all the while Diddy was my special boy. Once he attached to me, his eyes lit up when I came home. He jumped up and down in his excitement. And I gave him a lot of attention and love. He was my future. He was the one I had expected to move with me into my later years and I was happy to know that he would be with me.

Yesterday, some neighborhood kids cut through my yard and left the gate open. When I let the boys out mid-day, they escaped the backyard. I was able to nab my other greys fairly quickly, but Diddy got scared and ran off. I searched for him for hours; even my daughter searched for him. I talked to everyone out and about in town, made flyers and posted them everywhere; went to the police station to report him lost, talked to the mailman who called his colleagues to keep an eye out during their deliveries. I even went to the local pizza place to give the delivery guys a flyer with my phone number. There were some sightings yesterday but I could never seem to catch up with him.

I called and called for him all around town, hoping he would hear my voice and come to me. I even called him at suppertime hoping he was somewhere nearby. But nothing. I felt sick. I felt guilty that he was out there alone and scared. I was supposed to protect him.

I tossed and turned all night. I got up at 4 am and put the boys out and took my flashlight out into the backyard hoping he was lurking around the yard somewhere. No sign of him. Little did I know that it was already too late.

This morning at 6:30 am, I got a phone call from a woman I knew who asked me if I as missing one of my dogs. She said she had seen a black dog along the highway near the railroad bridge, just a few blocks from my house. I threw on my clothes, filled with anxiety and hope. I drove down to the site she had described. It was a two lane state highway with two extra lanes under the bridge for turning. I pulled up to the stop sign.

I looked for him in the tall grass and weeds along the road thinking maybe he was hiding there. I called his name, but couldn’t see him anywhere. I drove down through the turning lane and made a U-turn. And there he was; lying next to the median in the turning lane. I was so scared he was hurt or worse.

I pulled up to his body and jumped out of my car onto the median and walked towards him. He was so still and I called his name and there was no response. I could see he was dead. And I just started to scream and wail his name as I paced on the median. Cars and trucks were passing but I was so enveloped in grief that I didn’t care. I didn’t want to touch him and I didn’t want anyone to run over his body, so I just left my car there and I wailed and cried trying to figure out what to do for my special boy, Diddy.

After a few minutes, a man on a motorcycle stopped – thinking I had hit something. When I explained that I had just found my companion, my baby boy…dead, he understood. He offered to pick up Diddy’s body and move it across the two lanes to the field. I pulled a blanket out of my trunk and he threw it over Diddy’s body. He told me to move my car out of traffic and I pulled it over.  And he carried the body across the street and laid him on the grass beneath a billboard sign. I was still pretty hysterical and this wonderful man tried to call his wife to see if she could locate a pick up truck to move the body to the vet. He had phone reception issues & I told him I would find someone and not to worry. He was such a good Samaritan. I will never forget his kindness.

I came back to the house trying to figure out who I could call for help. My daughter’s fiance was out of town. I called the vet but they don’t pick up the bodies. I called a friend, but it was just 7:15 and he didn’t pick up.I called my daughter, who was at a girlfriend’s house, to break the news and ask if any of her friends had a pick up and could help. I didn’t want Diddy’s body to stay at the roadside in the heat.  Just then my dear friend Bob returned my call and offered to help his hysterical friend (me) with this horrible task. He met me at the scene, loaded the body in his van and we went to the vet’s office. They came out and took Diddy’s body on a stretcher, still wrapped in my blanket. It was the least I could do for him, my darling Diddy; to make sure his body was treated with respect. He was finally safe.

I haven’t loved a dog like this since I was a child. He will always be in my heart with his puffed out cheeks and his smiling eyes and his body attached to my hip. He will always be my special boy.

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Getting oriented…

August 22, 2009 at 10:18 pm (Uncategorized)
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I attended a college orientation program with my daughter today. It was strange to sit there with her in the college theatre listening to the different welcoming speeches and reviewing the packet materials. I eagerly read each item of information provided and I found the campus map and pointed out the buildings where she’d be taking her classes. At first we were going to sit in the section of the theatre for those interested in taking a walking tour of the campus but reconsidered after we figured out where her buildings were…after all, it was a muggy day and well, you know how I feel about the heat.

During one particular portion of the program, I noticed that my daughter was particularly tuned in. It was the goal setting section and she was asked to write down her GPA goal for the first semester. I was pleased to see that she wrote down a goal I have always thought she was capable of; but yet one that will stretch her to invest herself in achieving it. It made me feel like she was ready to really take ownership of her education; something that comes with maturity. That made me happy…and hopeful.

Feeling pretty well oriented from the first 90 minutes of the program, we snuck out during the potty break and decided to walk down to the bookstore which was in a building not far from where we were. My daughter was hoping to get a hoodie with the college’s name emblazoned across the chest, a tangible way to feel connected to her new environment. But, the book store had closed two hours earlier. Oh well, she’ll have to get connected next week.

I love college campuses. I’m not exactly sure why. It’s a feeling that comes over me as I walk among the buildings. It is a comforting feeling; a feeling of safety. I’m guessing that those feelings relate back to my childhood traumas. Not too long ago, I identified my “drug of choice” for dealing with all of my childhood issues as education. Learning has always been my escape. I love it. I crave it. The more I absorbed intellectually, the smarter I felt I was which, in my warped mind, made me feel safer. It may not make sense to you, but I totally understand how and why it happened that way.

Just the short walk to the bookstore building I shared with my daughter this afternoon made me feel incredibly happy. Happy that she would soon get to experience some of the things I had in college and hopeful that she would catch the learning bug, really invest herself in her education, and experience real success.

It’s going to be a year of incredible change…for both of us. I know I need to strap myself in because…as Bette Davis said, it’s going to be a bumpy ride!

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A surprise gift from the Universe…

August 21, 2009 at 10:15 pm (Uncategorized)

I like it when I learn something that helps me figure out something about myself. I like to take bits and pieces of what I pick up and figure out how it applies to my own interpretation of my life. For me, understanding myself and my life events is of utmost importance because I believe in order to learn the lessons provided through those experiences, I must understand how each one fits into the bigger picture.

I have had many wonderful teachers in my life. And mentors. Each one has had such an impact on me – giving me something I needed, exactly when I needed it. Of course I can look back and see that now. I didn’t realize it consciously when it was happening. But being able to look back and understand what I have been given is a part of understanding the lessons of my life.

My biggest teacher has been someone I had never expected to meet. But she is someone I love more than words can express. My best teacher has been my daughter. It has been through her that I have come to understand many of the pieces of my life that kept me prisoner for so long.

Because my mother had died suddenly at 30 and had left me with such a huge hole in my soul, I swore to myself that I would never have a child. Secretly I “knew” that I would die at the same age as my mother. I remember when I was a senior in college counting out the years that I had “left.” Because the pain of her loss was still so great and because I never wanted someone else to feel that pain, I knew I could not bring a child into the world.

I turned 30 one February, much to my surprise. I had waited for the big event and it never came. It was like a huge hurdle I had passed. But that had not changed my mind about having a child. I was focused on my career and building a life with a man I had married. But, as usual, the Universe had other plans and in March of my 31st year I discovered I was pregnant. Pregnant despite the pill. Pregnant. Wow…my body vibrated with the overwhelming responsibility.

Now my daughter had a mind of her own right from the start. She actually was due in early December but refused to come on her scheduled due date and stayed in the womb for an extra three weeks…finally deciding to greet the world early one Christmas morning, the day before I was to be induced.

From the moment she was born, my lessons began. She has been the most difficult teacher, the most frustrating, the most exasperating teacher I have ever had. She has pushed me harder than I thought I could handle. Her tests were the most draining. But she is the one who has taught me the most about myself. And every day, okay…well, most days, I am glad she has taught me so much. Some days I feel like  I could use a longer recess in between tests…but I wouldn’t trade this teacher for the world.

I have always told my daughter she was my best Christmas present…I think I’ll write Santa this year and say thank you.

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Roots and wings…

August 18, 2009 at 9:39 pm (Uncategorized)

I’m trying to get used to being alone now. It’s a strange feeling after having my daughter almost constantly with me for 19 1/2 years. I used to celebrate the time alone I would get when she’d visit her dad on occasion or sleep over at a friend’s house. I LOVE alone time…or I used to. It must be the contrast of having someone constantly with you, who is dependent on you for almost everything, that makes the alone times so, well..wonderful. Because now, with her fiance in the picture, I have so much more alone time that it’s becoming less wonderful. I now treasure the time I get to spend with my daughter.

I guess it’s the empty nest thing that all parents go through when their kids go off to college or just move out. I know the 19 1/2 years I invested as  parent gives my daughter roots. I talked about this in an earlier post, how important it is to have that connection, that anchor in me as her mom. I think the harder part, for me at least, is giving her the wings to fly away.

I think giving wings to your child is an unselfish act. Part of me wants to do the happy dance as I watch her move on with her life…celebrating her freedom…and mine. But I have to confess that part of me is sad that she is leaving because it means I have to find my own life…again. I know I used to have one before she was born…but it was so long ago, I’m not sure I remember how to do this. I know it would be easier to stay over-involved in her life, using her life as a substitute for mine. I’ve seen other parents do this. I’m guessing it’s because it is scary to create a new life apart from what you have known for almost 20 years. It’s even scarier when you find yourself alone…

So, I am giving my daughter her wings and while I am at it, I’m giving myself a pair. We are both starting new lives kowing that in each other we find our roots. We can fly in different directions, creating lives that touch frequently but are independent. I’m sure I can find the wonderful in alone again…for a time. I’m sure my wings will take me to new places where I will meet new people and, who knows…maybe create a new relationship to share the rest of my life.

Only time will tell…

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It could be a hot August night…

August 17, 2009 at 9:31 pm (Uncategorized)
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I hate the heat…It just sucks the life out of me. Seriously. I get crabby. It exhausts me. I think, if I were a bear, that I’d hibernate all summer and take my chances foraging in the winter. Think about it; I’d have that big furry coat to keep me warm. I think it’s much easier to get warm that to cool yourself down. I know I’m whining…but I hate opening the door and hitting a wall of heat just to get the mail.

Now you may be wondering why I’m bringing up this little tidbit right now. Well, it’s August and there’s this little matter of a wedding next year around this time. Geez…I just know it’s going to be HOT. So, in addition to dealing with the stress of a wedding, I’ll be sweating – er, glowing. I hate to sweat…umm glow. Maybe that’s why I hate the heat…Oh well, it’s circular logic…and of no value.

Anyway, I will confess that I tried to get my daughter and her fiance to move the wedding until the fall; lauding the colors of the trees as a backdrop for their ceremony. But secretly, I just wanted to avoid the heat. I know that sounds pretty selfish but have I mentioned I hate the heat?

When they didn’t want to move the wedding back a month or so – just because they wanted their friends there and many of their friends had to go back to college by mid-August, I suggested that they wait a bit longer and have it the following spring; again pointing out the beauty of the spring flowers that would be blooming. They could do it over spring break I suggested; then their friends could still attend. But my future son-in-law told my daughter he couldn’t wait that long to marry her. God, he’s SUCH a romantic.

So the wedding will be August 8, 2010 and I know it’s going to be HOT. Even as we plan an evening wedding, the heat continues until the sun finally goes down. I know the heat won’t bother my daughter because she will be floating down the aisle to her beloved. But I worry that I might actually melt; like the Wicked Witch…okay, so she melted because she was drenched in water…but if I sweat, er…glow a lot, it could happen…I’m just sayin’.

Break out the deodorant, it could be a HOT August night…

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The college adventure begins…

August 16, 2009 at 11:40 pm (Uncategorized)

My daughter is starting college next week. Wow. That’s a phrase I had been practicing since she was born that Christmas morning in 1989. I’ve been talking to her about college since she was old enough to understand. When she was a toddler, I even took her to my alma mater in Philadelphia and walked her around the campus and the buildings. Those visits continued almost every time we visited Philly. Of course, as she got older, she grew tired of visiting my “memory lane.” And she told me, in no uncertain terms, that she wouldn’t be attending a women’s college. Oooookay. There goes my legacy idea…

She graduated from high school over a year ago. Her first thought was to take an online course from the Art Institute in Pittsburgh last summer. So she went online and filled out the application, talked to the counselor several times, picked a course and got ready to start. It was her decision. She initiated it and got things set up. I quietly worried that an online course was not right for her. My daughter has always needed to connect with her teachers. I wasn’t sure she could do that through her computer. I was, however, really proud of her for doing her research, contacting the school and getting things set up. All I did was order the books for her.

The course was asynchronos which meant she could go online whenever to do her work. The first couple of days she was excited and got busy with her coursework. But, as I had suspected, her interest waned because there was no teacher to engage with on a personal level – face-to-face. Two weeks in and it was over. She was frustrated. She didn’t feel connected. She quit.

The past year has been one of trying to figure out what she wants to do.  She worked at Old Navy as a sales associate but couldn’t get enough hours so she went looking for another job. She found it at Circuit City where she learned a lot about retail sales and customer service. She got plenty of hours and she enjoyed the people she worked with…and then Circuit City announced it was gong out of business. Her job was over.

Her plan included moving to South Carolina and checking out colleges. Her then boyfriend had gone off to boot camp and he encouraged her to follow her dream and move. They would figure out how they could get together after he finished boot camp. But ultimately, she moved home.

This summer she decided she wanted to go to the area community college. So I asked her to go look it up online and find out about it. I thought she should also look at another local college that had two year programs. So we visited both campuses and compared programs that she was interested in. Ultimately, she chose the communiy college; mostly I think she liked that it was bigger and felt more like what she thought college should feel like. The other school was smaller and she thought it felt too much like a high school.

She’s actually excited about starting classes! This from a young woman who, as a child, would have to go to daycare sometimes in her pajamas because she refused to get dressed to go to school. Middle school and high school were not happy places for my daughter either. If she didn’t have so many friends in school, she may not have finished. But her year away from school and out in the “real world” reinforced her understanding of the need for some kind of college program.

So, yes. I am excited that my daughter is starting college next week; even more excited that she is excited to start school. My prayer is that she connects with some teachers that keep her excitement stoked and that she loves school as much as I did.

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Oh…and the interracial thing…

August 14, 2009 at 11:02 pm (Uncategorized)
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My daughter’s wedding is going to be a tapestry of color. She’s marrying a black man. Their friends are black and white and biracial and to all of them, the whole interracial thing is no big deal (NBD). This generation, at least this group of young people, seem color blind. They accept each other for who they are as human beings rather than what color their skin is. Frankly, I find it so refreshing that it’s NBD to them.

What I do find disturbing is that it ISa big deal to other people. I guess I’m not sure what their issue is since they are not in the relationship. I warned my daughter that there are people out in the world who do not accept interracial relationships; people who can be hostile and mean – just based on their own prejudices. I told her she would need to learn how to let their inane comments or outright stupidity roll off her back. Ignore it, I said. Just ignore it.

I guess I need to learn how to take my own advice…because I have experienced some serious shock at the reactions of some of the people around me. Sometimes I even amaze myself at my Pollyanna view of the world. I had assumed that people were past that. But they are not. Racial  prejudice still exists but it is underground, only rearing its nasty ugliness when someone feels a personal connection in which they feel threatened in some way.

I have always been the rogue progressive (or often referred to as that poor liberal) in my family and among my friends. I’m okay with that. My deeply held beliefs and values coincide with those social progressive ideals. I’m not out to change their views. I know they cannot change mine. So we mostly do not discuss social, political or religious topics. But when some discover that my daughter’s fiance is black, there is the cocked eyebrow, the grimace, or the outright question about what I think about it. What do I think about it? I think it’s GREAT that my daughter has found such a wonderful man who loves and cherishes her. That’s what I think.

Now I want to make it very clear that my family members have welcomed my future son-in-law with open arms. Well, at least those family members who have met him. When my daughter took her fiance up to a rural part of the state to meet many of my side of the family, things went very well. He felt right at home and they created a welcoming atmosphere. He also had the opportunity to meet my daughter’s older brother who lives in South Carolina. He was up visiting friends and she was excited to introduce them to each other – the two most important men in her life. And I’m so happy to report that her brother was impressed with his future brother-in-law.

But I am so sad to report that my daughter’s father is not so happy about her choice of a life partner or the fact that she is getting married. He has been downright rude. She had even introduced the two of them to each other months ago when he was down here for a visit. But it didn’t matter. When she called to tell her dad the news of her engagement, she anticipated that he would not be supportive. She was right. She called him and put him on speakerphone so I could hear what he said when she told him. Let’s just say it was a hurtful reaction that made her cry…and the stupid man did not even get it that he would NEVER get that moment back. Now he is in and out of denial about it. He pretends my daughter’s fiance doesn’t exist by not asking her about him or the wedding plans.

Interestingly, my daughter’s older brother has a son of his own plus two adopted sons – one who is biracial and the other who is black. Her father struggles with that as well – having grandchildren of several colors…but it is his loss as all of those boys are adorable and will play some role in the wedding.

It is my fervent wish that anyone, anyone – family or friend – who receives an invitation to this wedding who is uncomfortable being around people of various shades of color, opt not to attend because there will be 150 black, white and biracial people in attendance. PLUS there will be Jewish people and gay people!  Perhaps there will be a previously planned vacation to the beach or the mountains. Maybe it’ll be another contrived excuse. I’m okay with that because I am not interested in having people with prejudicial issues at this wedding.

To me it ISa BFD that there is prejudice that hurts people; people, for the most part, that are not known by those who carry such hatred. Please keep your narrow little minds, your ignorance, at home.

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