March Birthdays, Take Two

Dear UD,

Today, I have no words.

Today, you would have been 62.

Today, a year ago, we celebrated your 61^st birthday all weekend at your place, another family celebration filled with kids playing ball outside (and Little and Aiden jumping cliff to cliff, flying over open space), dogs romping around (except poor O. B. who shadowed your every move, sitting between your feet at every chance), and cousins/siblings/aunts/uncles all playing various games of Scrabble, Bridge, and the new Dragon Joust card game that you created. And you, cooking, grilling, making special meals for all of us even though you were the honored birthday boy. 

Sonny, Mom, and I stayed up until midnight on the night before, playing Bridge with you to ring in the first moments of your birthday. We saluted your birthday, and you jumped to Three No Trump, like always, winning the rubber.

We sang Happy Birthday (something you did for every single one of us on every birthday through a phone call), ate cake, and watched you open presents. Last year, mostly, you received cards, as you requested, where we told you how much you meant to us.

Did you know then, somewhere hidden inside, that it was your last birthday?

Did you know, in a way that we did not until after, how deeply you impacted our lives on so many levels? How very much we loved you? How special you were?

Even as we brought you presents, you gifted us with everything you had, with everything you were. 

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,

Than are dreamt of in your philosophy. ~Hamlet (1.5.167-8)

Today, a song comes on the radio, and the lyrics slay me. No longer are you “only one call away.” No longer are you “there to save the day.” No longer can your siblings or 17 nieces and nephews or 30 plus great-nieces and nephews call to share news, get advice, wish you Happy Birthday.

Today, we vote in the primaries, trying to pick the best of the worst, without a viable option. I imagine what you would say and wish we could talk about it.

I’ve heard some people laugh at the idea of Trump, saying he wouldn’t have the power to do anything if elected. I’ve heard others say that Trump is a refreshing choice, someone to bring new life to the political hypocrisy and depravity of this corporation-run government. Both of those are furthest from the truth. This election year has been a debacle of Hunger Game/Nazi proportions. Will we not learn from history or from futuristic literature? George Santayana said, “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it,” but World War II wasn’t that long ago. Surely we haven’t forgotten it already or forgotten where racism, prejudice, and blindly following dictators who use repeated common fallacies in reasoning leads?!

I would remind you of the stories I have read, of Fahrenheit 451, “Harrison Bergeron,” The Handmaid’s Tale, The Giver series, the Unwind series, and ask how people cannot see the parallels. How they cannot see our country sliding headfirst into a dystopia.

I have tried to stay out of the political debates this year, but Trump scares me. He should scare all of us. Elie Wiesel, Holocaust survivor, winner of Nobel Peace Prize in 1986, and author of Night, wrote, “We must take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented.”

You always wanted to see the best in people, in our country, in our world. I wonder what you would say now, after all of the headlines and horrors of the past year. After the past week when our first amendment right to peaceful protest has been under attack. In the words of Elie Wiesel, “There may be times when we are powerless to prevent injustice, but there must never be a time when we fail to protest.”

 

So, today, I speak up and cast my vote. 

And, today, I’ve heard from various family members who are all thinking of you, honoring you, missing you.

Mom is planting a flower garden with roots and bulbs of perennials such as lilies, irises, wildflowers, and bleeding hearts. Every spring when they shoot up and bloom, she will think of you.

Others will watch a musical or Hitchcock classic or Shakespeare play, and some will reach out to a sibling or cousin and cherish the mundane fact of having a phone conversation with a loved one.

Still others will cook a meal that they learned in your kitchen while most of us will play a board or card game.

Whatever we do, we remember you.

Today is your special day. We love you, Uncle David. Happy birthday!

Love,

Rach

March Birthdays

Dear UD,

Today is Dad's birthday, the first day of March and yours, the 15th, halfway through. 2016, the year after we lost you both, the year when March limps in without roars, the year when spring, renewal, rebirth all seem out of reach.

Today, I honor Dad by remembering his beautiful and eloquent words to me on this day, 16 years ago:

I think all of us tend to look back on our lives on our birthdays, and solitary reflection is good for the soul…summoning tendrils of sadness and regret…but bringing also joy and the quiet contentment that comes with remembrance of things past. On this day I feel doubly blessed to have lived and loved, and I wanted to share an epiphany that intruded forcibly…bringing the greatest birthday gift imaginable...an ineffable sense of wondrous awe. Hovering always at the periphery of conscious thought is the blessed awareness of the people I love, my fellow traveler through this vale of tears. But this morning, in pensive solitude…I felt you all as a powerful presence…as a celestial choir singing the Happy Birthday song…I truly felt you all as if physically present…our hearts thrumming a delicate refrain of indescribable loveliness. And I thought that there is great beauty in this imperfect world…the indescribably sublime wonders of nature…the unutterable beauty of song…Willie Nelson singing “Always on my Mind”…the baroque counterpoint of Bach…The Winged Victory of Samothrace standing in Majestic grace after 23 centuries…fragments of thought from other fellow travelers we have never met, snatches of incredible poetic utterance…”And the women come and go, Talking of Michelangelo”… fictional characters we feel we know, like Yossarion and stately, plump Buck Mulligan. But shining above all of this with effulgent brightness is the blessed assurance that Love is the one thing that makes life worthwhile. I think there is a certain amount of wisdom that comes naturally as we age and mature, and I think walking for a year in the shadow of darkness has helped me see a great light…like Saul on the road to Damascus…I see how we are transported by love to any earthly paradise beyond description…that love for intimates, affection for friends, and good will towards everybody…redeems our tenuous lives and makes our transient pilgrimage significant. For above all else, I am assured that our love is a pearl of great price, a solitary Rose blooming in a wasteland. I love you, Honey. Dad

 

Flash forward to 2009, the last of his birthdays I celebrated with him in person. A trip to the Crawford farm, snowed in by a blizzard which blanketed the world in white, nestled in with family for cards, movies, music, and birthday cake, and a trudge through the snow with some of the younger kids.

I remember more clearly my last time celebrating anything with Dad. Christmas 2014. During the last week of his life, Dad remarked that he was glad he had moved back to the Ozarks, to the family farm, because it was home.

You, too, moved back to Missouri, near family. Home is where the heart is.

 

Yesterday, or so it seems, you said I was… and then my girls were… growing up too fast. If only you and Dad were still here to see them (and all 20 plus of the next generation) grow into their talents and careers and lives. Now it's their turn to ask, Do I dare disturb the universe? But I wouldn't want to be there (young adults who have to find their way) in this postmodern society. You, Dad, Eliot, all three of you pondered, probed this extraordinary, harsh, dark, and lovely world. If only both of you were still here to share your wisdom and counsel.

Today, I honor Dad with a movie marathon of some of his favorites. From the hilarious and beyond cool Blues Brothers to Kiss me, Kate to the mysteries of Agatha Christie to the bumbling Colombo played by Peter Faulk to the sharp and witty Sherlock Holmes. At least I will watch as many as possible after work, and I will laugh and cry, but love these classics and the memories they inspire.

 

Today, I light a candle for Dad, and on the 15^th I’ll light one for you. You were both such a blessing in our lives in so many ways, and we are blessed to call you family. So I declare March birthdays a blessing. Happy birthday, Dad. Happy birthday, Uncle David.

We miss you both more than words can say.

Love,

Rach

Conversations with UD

Dear UD,

I don't know when spring will come again for me.

A year ago, February, we were planning your March birthday party, not knowing it would be the last one we would celebrate with you.

Today, I reached for the phone to call you after work, an automatic response, still, and a piercing jab to the heart reminded me that you're not here anymore, and my whole body aches that loss, mourns the knowledge of the world without you, grieves the ability to dial your number and hear your voice.

Today, the sun is shining and spring is in the air, but I can't seem to feel spring fever this year. Mom said a crocus came up in her yard on Saturday. She sent me a picture of the yellow beauty blooming in the midst of mud and brown. From a bud you gave her last year. She said it reminds her that you are still helping make her life better so we remember that you love us, but I want you here. This is so hard. Still.

Tears fall but the pain is still here. I don't know when spring will come again for me.

I want to look beyond this cold, dark winter and spy something better, but all I can see is a bleak, desolate landscape.         

Those who say time heals all wounds don't know a loss like I do. Just aching emptiness, a hole that will never be whole again.

I just want to be able to pick up the phone and then talk to you, my uncle. Conversations with you were precious. People say we don't know what we have until it's gone sometimes. That is so true.

I just want to have a conversation with you again. I miss that. I miss you.

I don't know when spring will come again for me. But I know, if you were here, you would be outside feeding the hummingbirds, walking the dogs, inspecting tree limbs for emergent buds, watching for robins, hunting for crocuses. Searching for signs of spring.

So I, too, will venture out in the fresh air, probing, hoping for a hint that spring will return again for me someday.   

Love, Rach

Disaster

Dear UD,

One of the worst things I can imagine is the carcass of a charred library. Can you imagine if we lived in Bradbury’s world? All the libraries burned, empty husks. All of that history, knowledge, shared connection throughout time wiped away as if never there.

That's how I feel in this world now.

One by one, you topple, the generations before us, gone of a sudden.

We are not ready to carry on without you. 

I am not ready to be the one who remembers.

I remember the generation before and the one before that and even the one before that.  Four generations, five including the one that comes after me, but I don't remember clearly. I don't know enough.

A kaleidoscope of images flashes through my mind:

Picking strawberries from the patch with Grandma Iva, snuggling on Grandma Bonnie’s lap as she reads Hop on Pop and The Little Red Hen, turning the handle as I make ice cream on the back porch with Grandpa Bruce long before he teaches teenage me to play Bridge, picnicking with Grandma Bessie at the yearly reunion, peeling fresh garden tomatoes at Grandma Juanita’s knee, reeling in big ole catfish from the pond on the family farm with Grandpa Crawford, listening to Dad’s eclectic music while learning everything from vocabulary to tolerance to history from him.

So many memories, so much shared history.

And you, Uncle David, you who could hold me in one of your hands from the day I was born, you knew me, the real me in a way others don't, can't. 

And now that you are gone from this world, I stand alone in the ruins of all of that history, knowledge, shared connection and weep. 

Love, Rach

New Year Musings

Dear UD,

It seems unbelievable that we are starting a New Year that you and Dad will never see;

I have been so sad the past few days as 2016 approached.  

2016, just a number, a New Year, a blank slate,

yet it heralds a time in this world where we must go on without you, 

a path on this earth where you cannot follow,  

a journey we must now make alone.

It doesn't seem right.

I made a 2016 family calendar since you are not here to do it anymore,

and there were too many dates I had to leave blank,

no labels but heavy with meaning,

strong with memory.

January 4^th—the day we lost Dad,

March 1^st—Dad's birthday,

March 15^th—your birthday,

April 28^th—the day we lost you.

The funeral days are sharp yet blurry,

and every day after pregnant with a grief we do not want to birth.

We stumbled through our first holiday season without you,

and most of us became ill,

vomiting up all of our unspoken words and emotions.

But me, I stepped on the cat's tail, on Christmas Day,

fell and fractured my wrist. A trip to the ER

and I came home with a splint on my right wrist.

Shattered lives, shattered bones.

Broken bones, broken spirits.

Losing you was like losing my right arm, and now I am utterly

helpless.

We all feel so bereft, unready, lost.

We miss you both so much.

We wish we could rewind to you.

But time waits for no one so

we are marched into 2016,

a year we are not ready to face,

into a world we are not ready to know,

into a time without you.

Out of the remains of our battered world,

we must create a new normal as our new selves emerge.

But we carry your love, your hearts, your memories into 2016, and

will band together, help each other, and

use the knowledge and gifts that you taught us

to move forward, recover, and become more resilient

as we remember to cherish every

moment and memory

with those we love.

Love, Rach

Christmas Letter

To say that there were many changes in the Crawford family and world this year would be a grievous understatement. The major changes were precipitated in May of 2014 with the passing of Newton Ulysses Crawford, Sr. (Grandpa Crawford to our clan and the family patriarch) at age 96; he lived in his house most of his life (with the exception of his 30 years of service as a naval officer) on the plethora of land that has been in our family’s hands for over 100 years. 

Before we could fully process that event and what it meant to our lives, Newton Jr. (Dad to me and my siblings as well as Gaffer to 20 grandkids) was diagnosed with lung cancer, and Newton the Third (aka Sonny) moved into Grandpa’s house with his two kids. In August when my daughters and I visited Missouri for Crawford camp, Dad lamented that he would not live long enough to farm, and he gave each grandchild a coin from his childhood collection that had just been returned to him. Soon after, he received his treatment options and chose hospice.

Aunt Clarice, the reigning matriarch from Mom’s side of the family, the Cunningham Clan, had passed away the previous fall, and Mom traveled with her two brothers to help settle the estate in the fall of 2014. I remember Uncle David distressingly recounting that the three of them were all that was left now of the family in their generation. 

 

Last fall, Laina and I packed up our three-bedroom condo, selling or donating much of the furniture, and drove to the Missouri farm to be with family. For a semester, we moved into the upstairs of the farmhouse where I grew up, and Lexi flew in for the holidays. After enjoying an emotional and action-packed Christmas with the family, what we knew would be our last one with Dad, I drove Dad’s Cadillac to Kansas City so that Lexi and Laina could see their dad’s family for a few days. We spent New Year’s Eve/Lexi’s 20^th birthday with their grandparents during the day and then with Uncle David and Brittany that night, ringing in the new year with family.

We stopped by Brittany’s house on the way back to the farm but had to cut the visit short when Dad’s condition began to deteriorate more rapidly. I pulled an all-nighter, driving back late that evening, arriving first thing on the morning of January third. I knew he was seriously ill; however, I couldn’t comprehend a world without him in it. Regardless, we had to say our final goodbyes, and by the next morning, Dad was gone.

The first part of the year, we spent attempting to adjust to our new world, a place without Dad. An arduous task.

I’ll never forget April 28^th and the phone call that changed everything, again. Uncle David died suddenly, and we were left to pick up the pieces, again. So within the first four pernicious months of 2015, we attended two funerals and lost two important men in our family. Since then, Mom has moved into another place on the farm, and our childhood home is now Ben’s house. Uncle Bob moved into Uncle David’s house, and the Cunningham farm where we made apple butter for over ten years is now cousin Robert’s home.

So, what has everyone been up to in the midst of dealing with the aftermath of our personal family earthquake?

After enjoying the severe winter and lovely spring of the Ozarks (not to mention the family birthdays and events, Bado church services, Stars Foundation theater and ballet performances, and numerous Spades tournaments), I moved back to the eastern coast of Florida where I had classes lined up to teach and where Laina could finish high school with her friends. We moved into a two-bedroom condo near her school, and I went back to taking as many classes as possible to make ends meet. Cost of living has gone up, so I am teaching even more classes (seven per semester if I can get them). I also applied for and even interviewed for jobs, though so far nothing has emanated. This fall, I joined a GreifShare group at our local church in order to have support through this difficult time. That and writing these blog entries (I still haven’t been able to start journaling again…maybe next year) and conversations with friends and family and weekly phone calls with my cousin Alyssa have helped me as I process everything.

Lexi graduated from AMDA performing arts school in February, and after staying to audition in New York for another month, she moved to Orlando, Florida where she began coaching gymnastics at Metro Gym and went to numerous auditions. In August, she attended the Rockettes Summer Intensive in NYC and then quit her job as a coach, moved back home, and signed up for classes at Eastern Florida where she will finish her AA in a year and graduate in the honors program. She also started teaching dance classes at a local studio. College classes, dance classes, and auditions keep her busy, and on top of all of that, she started working at Chili’s as a hostess during the weekends.

Laina is a junior at Viera High School where she and one of her best friends volunteers as a student assistant for the football team. She attended every practice and every game, standing on the sidelines with the football team, handing them water and other needed supplies. This year, VHS varsity football made it to the state championship, coming in second in their division. Laina is an honor student, taking advanced classes like Honors Pre-cal, Honors Economics/Government, Honors English, and Physics. She is also on a local competitive cheer team, so she has practices during the evenings.

Brittany continues thriving in her job and community where she is not only the school counselor but also the girls’ softball coach, Junior class sponsor, and NHS advisor. Sean is playing saxophone in the band and playing basketball. He has a pet snake named Rusty and a sheltie named Chap. Mark holds everything together and was the tootsie roll drive chairperson who helped double the amount made in previous years.

 

Sonny still lives with his family on the farm, working with Sam and Dan at Walmart warehouse. A straight-A student, Carly is a sophomore in high school and was crowned Houston High Homecoming Queen this fall in between her active schedule at school in band, choir, student council, and sports (a pitcher on the softball team and a point guard on the basketball team). She had her sweet 16 birthday, got her driver’s license, and recently started waitressing at a local diner. Little Sonny played 7^th grade football and spends his free time plotting pranks.

Amanda has been working with Palen for four years and enjoys traveling and working with many different area band programs. Tom is in his fourth year of teaching at Ozark, and the band had a very successful marching season this year. Brett is now 12 years old and active in piano, trombone, and swimming. Brett, a musical prodigy following in Gaffer’s footsteps, has performed several outstanding piano recitals. Cale is seven years old and active in swimming and baseball. Brett and Cale are unique rapscallions. In fact, Tom posted once about how anyone considering having children could borrow their boys for a day of clothing shopping to cure that desire!

Sarah has had a tumultuous year in and out of the hospital and rehabs; however, the experiences have helped, and she has turned her life around. As always, she is a hard worker who is always helping those around with various projects. Malachi graduated from Houston High School with his high school sweetheart Chelsea. Aidan started his freshman year at Houston High and played on the football team.

 

Jill and Adam left Rolla to move onto the family farm, digging a well and settling in to their new home. Jill continues waitressing and began working with Mom as an enumerator for Missouri Agriculture Statistics (which means driving all over the Ozarks and interviewing farmers). Also, Jill entered the Labrada Lean Body Challenge, a national contest that included Canada with thousands of entries, and she won first in her age group. She continues working out and is studying for her personal trainer certification and inspires us all along the way. Adam is taking classes towards his degree and working at UPS. Their family adopted Uncle David’s small terrier mix, Lucky, in May, and a small tabby kitten, Gracie, who showed up on their doorsteps this fall. Owen is homeschooling and excelled in basketball while Jax started preschool and his first year of soccer and basketball. Mia is a force to be reckoned with. 

All of Sam and Serena’s kids are excelling in school and getting great reviews from their teachers who even mentioned how exciting it was to have “intelligent” Crawfords in their classes. Katch, another musical prodigy following in Gaffer’s footsteps, is a middle schooler who is playing the trombone in the high school band. He has taught himself songs on the piano and is interested in the guitar. Coached by his uncle and dad, the defensive coach, Kayden finished football with a super bowl win while Isis started school and played her first round of basketball, showing off her dribbling skills. Kane and Owen played on the same basketball team, making a great combo and shooting most of the baskets for the team. Sam and Serena are using the house plans created by Uncle David, and their addition will include six more rooms and a garage. Serena also runs a highly successful business of cake toppers out of their home, and at work, Sam became the first worker to throw a million cases and earned a photoshoot that had him and his brothers running for the hills.

Ben farms, raises rabbits and beef cattle, and is a supervisor at the Houston Walmart while Christin works at a daycare and volunteers at church, working with the 4-H Clover Kids. Cadence is a straight A student who plays piano and basketball, and the twins played soccer and basketball. Ember started preschool and has aspirations to be the next Dolly Parton, Granny says.

Dan recently left Walmart and is in the process of embarking on a new career and a new life with his girlfriend Lynn and her daughter Hailey. 

Martin took a break from welding except for projects around the farm and spends his time playing videos and various sports as well as tormenting his nieces and nephews.

If I continued to tell you all of the activities and accomplishments of this prolific and precocious family, it would fill pages. Just this week, Mom told me a story about how someone remarked that there were sure a lot of kids in the Christmas play at Bado Church this year. Mom soon realized that out of the 31 kids participating, 15 of them were her grandchildren!

Thus, in the midst of a painful and challenging year and although we have a litany of protests regarding so many changes, we continue in the vein of those we’ve lost as we use our creativity and intelligence in productive ways.

 

This year brings a whole new world to our family and our holiday celebrations; as Greifshare recommends, we have to find a “new normal” now. We don’t know what that looks like yet, and the process is extremely challenging; however, we will do our best and carry forward. That means we will start some new traditions while continuing others. Regardless, we know we are blessed. We have our memories, and we have each other. We stand on the solid foundation of a strong legacy left by Grandpa Crawford, Dad, Uncle David and others that we lost and remember (like our great-grandparents Iva, Brick, and Joe, Myrtle and Claude, Homer and Bessie, Grandpa Bruce, Grandma Bonnie, Grandma Juanita and the generations before them). And, we are grateful for Grandma Helen’s continued role in the family. We stand on the solid foundation of our land and our faith and all of the gifts God has provided. Gifts like family, intelligence, creativity, strength, beauty, and love. Gifts like land, talents, work-ethic, farming, and knowledge. We cherish these and vow to use what we have been given to bless others. Legacy, tradition, and family, not money or material possessions.  Family, tradition, and legacy, we embrace these during this season and in the New Year to come.

PS: No words were harmed in the writing of this letter. I wrote this in the time-honored tradition of Dad and his voracious use of large vocabulary words (at least I did my best!). Should you not know the meaning of a word I’ve used here, in the words of Dad, “Look it up in the dictionary.”

Blessings to you and yours this holiday season. We wish you laughter, love, tradition, fun, peace, and joy. Most of all, we wish you time together with those you love.

Written in loving memory of Dad and Uncle David.

Holiday Blues

Dear UD,

I stand here, looking at the next month and a half, and I am paralyzed. All that’s left of 2015 is the holiday season, and for us, that means my birthday, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Lexi’s 21^st birthday and New Year’s Eve, not to mention several other family birthdays.

Flip the calendar back one year and the landscape changes drastically. 

A year ago today, I prepared for our much anticipated trip to visit Lexi, and in many ways, you were part of my unforgettable birthday celebration and our adventures in Manhattan. We experienced a NYC Thanksgiving, five people and a toddler scrunched around the table in a kitchen the size of a closet. Dinner was delicious, and the whole day was lovely and perfect. That evening after watching a movie in plush recliners, we walked to 85^th street and took pictures of the apartment where you lived for years, right on the edge of Central Park.

A year ago, we planned and packed, selling or donating most of our furniture to return home for the holidays. Christmas on the farm with family, surrounded by loved ones. Photographs with Dad for the last time. Huge meals, stockings and presents around the Christmas tree, kids jumping on the trampoline in the cold, games of Spades, Bridge, Cribbage, and Scrabble, 10 siblings, 20 cousins. 

A year ago, Lexi’s 20^th birthday and New Year’s Eve celebrations with you and Britt. You treated us to opening week of Into the Woods at the movie theater, and we all loved it. Afterwards, we ate birthday cake and played Broadway around your dining room table until the ball dropped. We clinked glasses, sipped our sparkling apple cider, and welcomed in the New Year with kisses and hugs. Love and laughter. The first day of 2015, we woke up to family and you, cooking omelets for each of us.

I didn’t know then that it would be the last movie with you, the last time we’d play the game you created. I didn’t know then that Dad would be gone in just four days. Yes, he was on hospice. Yes, he was shrinking and struggling for breath, but he hid how bad the pain was, and we thought we had more time. More time with him and definitely more time with you. I didn’t know then that you would leave us, suddenly, near the end of April.

Last holiday season….so many memories that I cherish. I look back and smile.

I look forward and weep. How do we move forward into this first holiday season after such loss?

Just yesterday, someone mentioned decorating Christmas trees, and suddenly, I remembered the I love NYC ornament that I bought for you last November and gave you last year for Christmas. Gut-punched, I realized that you would never get the chance to put it on your tree.

I talked to a sister and cousin, both also missing you so much. The prospect of putting together a family calendar without you is unthinkable. How do we do this?

Instead of Christmas songs, I’ll put on some Muddy Waters and B. B. King. Eric Clapton and Etta James will sing me a bedtime lullaby. And, I’ll think of you and Dad.

The activities, the busyness, I can do that. I can continue on, do the traditions, but the emotional part, the joy and peace and love that belongs to this season, I don’t see how I can get there this year.

What I can do is choose my focus.

A new baby in the extended family, and what a sweet blessing.

A sister off the streets, on a bus headed home for the holidays.

Gracie, a calico kitten, purred and bounced her way into my sister’s home. 

My daughters, intelligent and talented, bold and beautiful—together for this holiday season. 

So, I reach my way through paralysis and take a small step.

UD, I will sing a song for you and Dad, raise a toast to you, play a game you taught me, think of you…always.

Love, Rach