Dear Mimi,
I love to bake. I learned how to bake before I learned how to cook more than ramen noodles or veggie sandwiches. Before I taught myself how to bake, the family joke was that I could mess up scrambled eggs and toast. It's not that you didn't teach me how to cook or bake - I remember helping you make things when I was little. I just wasn't interested, and you never pushed anything on me. But then one day in college, I decided I wanted to bake a cake. (For a boy, of course.) So, 8 and I dusted off the baking pans and made a cake. It was awful. We started over, and ended up with a very ugly but pretty tasty one layer round cake. Before that day, I always thought that I didn't like cake. I discovered that I loved cake - I hated boxed cake and icing from a tub.
Armed with your much loved, well used, and food spattered Betty Crocker cookbook, I started baking. And as much as I enjoy the fruits of my labor, I love the actual baking more. I make many, many things that I never eat. Giving away a cake is almost as good as making one, and certainly more fulfilling than eating one. And less 'filling' in the hip area.
10.25.2011
10.24.2011
Happy Birthday
Dear Mimi,
Today is your birthday. It goes so without saying, that I don't even know how to say it anymore without sounding like a broken record, but here it is, anyway: I miss you. I wish you were here. I want to celebrate with you, hug you, hear you, rub your fuzzy lamb head. I want to share some Mexican cheese dip and an inappropriately sized margarita with you. But since I cannot do that, I am going to do the next best thing. I am going to eat the traditional Mexican meal with the people you would have invited to your Birthday dinner: Dad, the Little One, my Little One, your two favorite son-in-laws, Miss Jones, TP, The Beautiful One, SuzQ.
I know we will laugh and hug and cry. And because we will cry, and because I needed this reminder today, I will remind them of your words.
If That Was the Last Time You Saw Me......
Melanie Morgan-Dohner
If that was the last time you saw me......
Know that I'm dancing! Know that I'm happy! Know that you will always be in my heart.
Know that I love you - this is easy for me to say, as I am at odds with no one.
Know that I have enjoyed my life - it has been filled with amazing joy and delight.
I've found life to be astonishingly beautiful.
Know that the challenges didn't destroy me and the discouragement never lasted.
Know that gratitude has been my key - gratitude and hope and wonder. I hope you won't miss any of it - any of the wonders that surround you.
Know that the end, here, is saturated with peace - I've been close enough to know that.
I'm alive - I'm in life - you'll see me again. We'll talk again. We'll laugh again.
I have complete assurance about where I'm going - it's a trip I've looked forward to, while enjoying life here.
Dennis and I have come to really enjoy living in the tension of how wonder-filled life here has been - yet, knowing that someday, one day, we'll be making the ultimate transition form here to there! From wonder to wonder.
I've talked with God - I know Him - He is not an idea - the reality of Him is staggering, breath-taking, life-changing. We took a chance - got outside the box of "normal" and never regretted a second of it.
Know that I'm free-range now! Tethered to nothing but love, dancing with Anna Larkin, Donald Morgan, and Jesus.
Love,
A
8.29.2011
Monday, Monday
Dear Mimi,
I know this is going to sound strange, but I think you dance like Mama Cass. While I always considered you graceful (specifically when compared to my extreme clumsiness), you were not a dancer. This is not to say that you did not dance. You loved to dance - with Dad. And everyone loved to watch the so obviously loving and intimate conversation you two carried on while dancing. And you danced with him everywhere. On trains, down hospital hallways, in the grocery, in the chemo room.
I know this is going to sound strange, but I think you dance like Mama Cass. While I always considered you graceful (specifically when compared to my extreme clumsiness), you were not a dancer. This is not to say that you did not dance. You loved to dance - with Dad. And everyone loved to watch the so obviously loving and intimate conversation you two carried on while dancing. And you danced with him everywhere. On trains, down hospital hallways, in the grocery, in the chemo room.
8.10.2011
Our Special Day
Dear Mimi,
Thirty-one years ago, on the way to the hospital, you were having some doubts. You told Dad to turn the car around -- you were fine, you didn't need to go to the hospital. It was two weeks earlier than you expected to be making this trip. Plus, you didn't like those pale and pasty chubby babies with no hair. I like to imagine that you made the 'yuck' face as you delivered this speech.
The next morning, at 5:55 a.m., I arrived -- long and skinny, with a thick tuft of black hair, and quite ruddy. You told me I was everything you didn't expect a baby to be, to your surprise and delight.
Thirty-one years ago, on the way to the hospital, you were having some doubts. You told Dad to turn the car around -- you were fine, you didn't need to go to the hospital. It was two weeks earlier than you expected to be making this trip. Plus, you didn't like those pale and pasty chubby babies with no hair. I like to imagine that you made the 'yuck' face as you delivered this speech.
The next morning, at 5:55 a.m., I arrived -- long and skinny, with a thick tuft of black hair, and quite ruddy. You told me I was everything you didn't expect a baby to be, to your surprise and delight.
8.01.2011
I'll Never Say Goodbye
Dear Mimi,
I listened to the same song everyday on my way home from work. Everyday, for a few months. It always made me cry. At first, I thought it was because I identified the song with your fighting spirit. There is a refrain in particular that I think of:
You keep alive a moment at a time
But still inside a whisper to a riot
To sacrifice but knowing to survive
The first to find another state of mind
I'm on my knees, I'm waiting for a sign
Forever, whenever
I never wanna die
I never wanna die
I never wanna die
I'm on my knees
I never wanna die
I'm dancing on my grave
I'm running through the fire
Forever, whatever
I never wanna die
You fought the cancer. You cursed the cancer. You radiated the cancer and poisoned the cancer and demanded the cancer leave. You were a little conquerer, trying to take back your body. The times the cancer was on the run, you did victory dances and screamed in jubilation. When the cancer came back, you spit, you stomped, you fought ever harder. If there had been a burial plot waiting for you, you would have danced on it. Defiantly.
I listened to the same song everyday on my way home from work. Everyday, for a few months. It always made me cry. At first, I thought it was because I identified the song with your fighting spirit. There is a refrain in particular that I think of:
You keep alive a moment at a time
But still inside a whisper to a riot
To sacrifice but knowing to survive
The first to find another state of mind
I'm on my knees, I'm waiting for a sign
Forever, whenever
I never wanna die
I never wanna die
I never wanna die
I'm on my knees
I never wanna die
I'm dancing on my grave
I'm running through the fire
Forever, whatever
I never wanna die
You fought the cancer. You cursed the cancer. You radiated the cancer and poisoned the cancer and demanded the cancer leave. You were a little conquerer, trying to take back your body. The times the cancer was on the run, you did victory dances and screamed in jubilation. When the cancer came back, you spit, you stomped, you fought ever harder. If there had been a burial plot waiting for you, you would have danced on it. Defiantly.
7.20.2011
Things I Learned From You - Good Movies
Dear Mimi,
You taught me about good movies. We used to check out old movies from the library and have themed marathons. Cary Grant nights and Alfred Hitchcock weekends were regular family events. But my favorite movie education occurred when I was in high school, on days when I stayed home sick. On those days you introduced me to movies like Harold and Maude, Wings of Desire, The Graduate, and all of Woody Allen.
One afternoon, we were flipping channels and I stopped at a movie I didn't recognize. When I asked you what it was, you stared at me in shock. You immediately wrote me a note to excuse me from school the next day and ran to the video store. That next day while I was playing hooky we watched all three Godfather movies. In your mind, cultural education (including movies) was as important as the things I learned in school. You made sure I watched many of the classics, and we watched most of them together. I thought of you and our Godfather Hooky Day this weekend when I watched Gone With the Wind for the first time. I'm not sure why we never watched this movie together - especially as you are named after one of the main characters.
You taught me about good movies. We used to check out old movies from the library and have themed marathons. Cary Grant nights and Alfred Hitchcock weekends were regular family events. But my favorite movie education occurred when I was in high school, on days when I stayed home sick. On those days you introduced me to movies like Harold and Maude, Wings of Desire, The Graduate, and all of Woody Allen.
One afternoon, we were flipping channels and I stopped at a movie I didn't recognize. When I asked you what it was, you stared at me in shock. You immediately wrote me a note to excuse me from school the next day and ran to the video store. That next day while I was playing hooky we watched all three Godfather movies. In your mind, cultural education (including movies) was as important as the things I learned in school. You made sure I watched many of the classics, and we watched most of them together. I thought of you and our Godfather Hooky Day this weekend when I watched Gone With the Wind for the first time. I'm not sure why we never watched this movie together - especially as you are named after one of the main characters.
7.09.2011
A Season of Thanksgiving - Universal Truth 2.7
Dear Mimi,
I'm a card-carrying member of the Choose Your 'Tude squad. I repeat the phrase with great consistency to myself and the people around me. ('Choose your 'tude! Choose your 'tude! Choose! Your! 'Tude!) And I think those people would be surprised to know that I don't think of myself as naturally cheery -- I'm quite inclined to melancholy. But even when I was a hormonal teenager, you embraced my moods while reinforcing Universal Truth 2.7.
Universal Truth 2.7
You choose
how you respond to the life
that happens around and to you.
This means that you have options in every situation.
**ESPECIALLY**
the ones that seem out of your control.
I remember being that teenage girl, staring at you as if you were quite mad, and thinking, 'What is this nonsense?' But after rolling my eyes (I'm sure I did), and halfheartedly agreeing to 'try it out', I realized that you were quite right. So I choose my attitude, every day. And lately, I've been working on thanks-giving. I want to exercise gratitude and give thanks for the many blessings and wonders in my life and the world in which I live. I want to actively participate and enjoy the richness to be found in this life, and I can't do that unless I see and appreciate and am thankful for everything. Everything? Every-thing, everything?
Even those stupid ants that keep overrunning my yard?
And that lady at the grocery store who gave me the stink-eye?
And..........cancer?
Yes, I think I need to choose Thanksgiving for the good, the slightly annoying, and the real-awful-bad. I think that's what you would advise. It is certainly what you practiced. I know, I know, it sounds crazy, but let's think about it.
Easy things to be thankful for, in no particular order -
my husband and son
a house I own and can decorate however I like
that pay raise I wasn't expecting
my adorable nail beds
the Little One
Sister Cousin, 8, and Shanz - the ladies who stood by
me when I married, as they have, always
sushi
But what about those FREAKING ants?
They are just ants, after all - it's not like they said, 'Hey! Look at that A lady. She looks like we could really bug (ha) the poop out of her if we went NUTS in her yard! Yeah! Let's go to HER house!!'
They are a part of creation, following their instincts.
And they are fascinating to watch.
They only bite when I'm trying to destroy their
home...I would do the same!
I guess I can accept ants. Give thanks for the wonder of their creation. My plants must be lush and healthy if the ants have chosen my yard as their home - that is certainly something to be thankful for.
Ooh, but the lady! With the stink-eye! Maybe she DID single me out!
............
.............
..........and if she did?.......
(I can hear you asking this.)
........so what?
Maybe she's having a bad day, or the sun was in her eyes, or she thinks my purple paisley scarf is garish, or she hates brunettes, or she was trying to remember the GDP of Iceland, or she can't believe someone would let their hair grow so long, or she was doing long division in her head, or the cabbage bin next to her was emitting a foul odor.
Again.....
....so what?
I will choose to be thankful that I have money to buy my groceries, and healthy legs and arms to walk and push my cart, and good eyesight (and glasses) that allow me to see the look on that lady's face. And for the lady - I can be thankful for the lady. She's just a lady, and I can't presume to know what was going through her mind. This lady is a miracle of creation! And whoever she is, and whatever is going through her head, I want to wish and hope the best for her. I want her to be filled with love and peace. I will pray blessings on her while exercising my thanksgiving for the intricacies and wonderment of my existence here. And maybe when I pass by her cart, I'll let her know that it's 12.134 million US dollars. The GDP of Iceland, that is.
But cancer? Really and truly? I think it sounds ridiculous - being thankful for cancer. I'm concerned that if I said that out loud, the villagers would arrive with pitchforks and torches, and run me out of town. Little old ladies on the street would hit me with their purses, and small children would kick my shins.
But -- I am thankful for who I am, and how I have grown, and the things I have learned while you had the cancer.
And I am thankful for all the time we made to spend together that we otherwise might not have prioritized.
I am thankful for the amazing people we met in doctor's offices and chemo rooms, and even the strangers who recognized the cancer on you/us and offered support.
The few friends who remained to stand by me are unfathomably precious to me - I would fight lions while covered in raw meat armed only with a spork for these few. They have done the same for me.
I now know how strong you really taught me to be, and that it runs deep - much deeper than I suspected.
These are very good things. These are things worth FIGHTING for. And if they are worth fighting lions, they are certainly worthy of my thanksgiving. And not my whiny 'I guess I can' teenage eye-rolling, or any half-hearted, 98%, one pom-pom thanksgiving. No! This is a standing on top of the mountain, with my hands in the air, screaming with everything I have:
THANK YOU!
THANK YOU GOD!
Shout it with me: TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And, thank YOU, Mimi. For teaching me Universal Truth 2.7, among so many other life lessons. You gave me all the tools I needed to stand on my own, while remaining within arms reach. After everything, we still stand - though separated - and how can I feel anything other than exuberant thanksgiving for that!?
Love,
A
I'm a card-carrying member of the Choose Your 'Tude squad. I repeat the phrase with great consistency to myself and the people around me. ('Choose your 'tude! Choose your 'tude! Choose! Your! 'Tude!) And I think those people would be surprised to know that I don't think of myself as naturally cheery -- I'm quite inclined to melancholy. But even when I was a hormonal teenager, you embraced my moods while reinforcing Universal Truth 2.7.
Universal Truth 2.7
You choose
how you respond to the life
that happens around and to you.
This means that you have options in every situation.
**ESPECIALLY**
the ones that seem out of your control.
I remember being that teenage girl, staring at you as if you were quite mad, and thinking, 'What is this nonsense?' But after rolling my eyes (I'm sure I did), and halfheartedly agreeing to 'try it out', I realized that you were quite right. So I choose my attitude, every day. And lately, I've been working on thanks-giving. I want to exercise gratitude and give thanks for the many blessings and wonders in my life and the world in which I live. I want to actively participate and enjoy the richness to be found in this life, and I can't do that unless I see and appreciate and am thankful for everything. Everything? Every-thing, everything?
Even those stupid ants that keep overrunning my yard?
And that lady at the grocery store who gave me the stink-eye?
And..........cancer?
Yes, I think I need to choose Thanksgiving for the good, the slightly annoying, and the real-awful-bad. I think that's what you would advise. It is certainly what you practiced. I know, I know, it sounds crazy, but let's think about it.
Easy things to be thankful for, in no particular order -
my husband and son
a house I own and can decorate however I like
that pay raise I wasn't expecting
my adorable nail beds
the Little One
Sister Cousin, 8, and Shanz - the ladies who stood by
me when I married, as they have, always
sushi
But what about those FREAKING ants?
They are just ants, after all - it's not like they said, 'Hey! Look at that A lady. She looks like we could really bug (ha) the poop out of her if we went NUTS in her yard! Yeah! Let's go to HER house!!'
They are a part of creation, following their instincts.
And they are fascinating to watch.
They only bite when I'm trying to destroy their
home...I would do the same!
I guess I can accept ants. Give thanks for the wonder of their creation. My plants must be lush and healthy if the ants have chosen my yard as their home - that is certainly something to be thankful for.
Ooh, but the lady! With the stink-eye! Maybe she DID single me out!
............
.............
..........and if she did?.......
(I can hear you asking this.)
........so what?
Maybe she's having a bad day, or the sun was in her eyes, or she thinks my purple paisley scarf is garish, or she hates brunettes, or she was trying to remember the GDP of Iceland, or she can't believe someone would let their hair grow so long, or she was doing long division in her head, or the cabbage bin next to her was emitting a foul odor.
Again.....
....so what?
I will choose to be thankful that I have money to buy my groceries, and healthy legs and arms to walk and push my cart, and good eyesight (and glasses) that allow me to see the look on that lady's face. And for the lady - I can be thankful for the lady. She's just a lady, and I can't presume to know what was going through her mind. This lady is a miracle of creation! And whoever she is, and whatever is going through her head, I want to wish and hope the best for her. I want her to be filled with love and peace. I will pray blessings on her while exercising my thanksgiving for the intricacies and wonderment of my existence here. And maybe when I pass by her cart, I'll let her know that it's 12.134 million US dollars. The GDP of Iceland, that is.
But cancer? Really and truly? I think it sounds ridiculous - being thankful for cancer. I'm concerned that if I said that out loud, the villagers would arrive with pitchforks and torches, and run me out of town. Little old ladies on the street would hit me with their purses, and small children would kick my shins.
But -- I am thankful for who I am, and how I have grown, and the things I have learned while you had the cancer.
And I am thankful for all the time we made to spend together that we otherwise might not have prioritized.
I am thankful for the amazing people we met in doctor's offices and chemo rooms, and even the strangers who recognized the cancer on you/us and offered support.
The few friends who remained to stand by me are unfathomably precious to me - I would fight lions while covered in raw meat armed only with a spork for these few. They have done the same for me.
I now know how strong you really taught me to be, and that it runs deep - much deeper than I suspected.
These are very good things. These are things worth FIGHTING for. And if they are worth fighting lions, they are certainly worthy of my thanksgiving. And not my whiny 'I guess I can' teenage eye-rolling, or any half-hearted, 98%, one pom-pom thanksgiving. No! This is a standing on top of the mountain, with my hands in the air, screaming with everything I have:
THANK YOU!
THANK YOU GOD!
Shout it with me: TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And, thank YOU, Mimi. For teaching me Universal Truth 2.7, among so many other life lessons. You gave me all the tools I needed to stand on my own, while remaining within arms reach. After everything, we still stand - though separated - and how can I feel anything other than exuberant thanksgiving for that!?
Love,
A
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