Yesterday we celebrated my mom’s 80th birthday! It was a great afternoon filled with laughter and love, and lots of food! Friends from the past and present came to honor her. Family came from far away to share stories and cherished memories of the past. So many people who love my mom came with their well wishes. I was not surprised one bit by the turnout because, well, she’s a pretty amazing woman, who has touched many lives in her eighty years on earth!
Mom, Peggy, Peg, Peggy Jo, Grandma, Ma, friend, aunt, sister, wife…whatever you call her, I call her amazing. Mom has the biggest heart of anyone I know. She is the most empathic, caring, loving woman on earth. One of her best qualities is that she is a great listener. When you talk to her, she really listens and makes you feel heard. She loves her family well and takes great care of daddy!
But, if you have ever met her or spent anytime around you, you know that one of her most cherished qualities is her quick-witted sense of humor. She has always had the ability to make everyone around her laugh with her zippy one-liners. And that wit is still going strong at eighty years old!
To know my mom is to love her. She truly has a gift of making people feel comfortable and loved. From her love of Goodwill shopping, to her amazing cooking skills, to her passion for shoes (even heels that she should NOT be wearing anymore, there is just so much to love about my mom. Celebrating her today and every day with a thankful heart that I get to call her mine!
I am home sick from work today. I HATE missing work, but I just finally had to admit that I needed to be home in bed so that my body could finally fight off this “ick” I’ve been dealing with for over a week. Besides getting the rest I need, the other positive is that I have time to sit and reflect on the past few months…and write! This year has been so full of so many milestones and memories. I am so overwhelmed with gratitude as I sit and think about all that has happened in the past few months.
Our family has created big memories, and little ones that are just as meaningful over the last several months. The biggest of these was Caroline and Zach’s wedding in August. The days of summer were filled with checklists, planning dates and maybe a few mini breakdowns. Caroline (Carty) and I spent so many hours talking about every little detail. I loved those moments – even when we thought there was no way we would get it all accomplished. Saturday, August 9th was the day! The skies were blue, the sun was hot, and all of our plans came together just as we had prepared for. I did my very best to “be present” in each moment and not get caught up in all the busyness. I am proud to say that I really feel like I was able to soak in all of the joy that came with watching my baby girl walk down the aisle. Our family all gathered and celebrated the bride and groom with so many smiles and LOTS of dancing. It was truly the most fun reception ever!
My baby girl was radiant, the whole venue with filled with so much love, and the memories of that special day will live with me forever.
In October, we celebrated again – but this time it was Halloween – with Parker. I’ve never been a huge fan of Halloween or Trick -or- Treating, but watching my grandson Parker excited beyond words for the evening really did change my perspective! Parker has been on a Spiderman kick for several months, so it was a foregone conclusion that he would be rocking the red costume and mask for the big night. I made a big pot of chili (the weather was perfect for the time of year – a little chill and clear skies) and the kids brought little man to our neighborhood to collect all the candy! Parker was so excited to be all dressed up as his favorite super hero and ran from house to house. After he couldn’t go any longer, we gathered at the table and shared a meal together. It was one of those nights that I had always imagined we would have once my kids were grown and grandbabies came along – except the reality was even better than I knew to dream.
So many other big and small moments fill my heart with thankfulness…my niece Courtney got married in a beautiful ceremony, Zach and I celebrated our birthdays in our annual Bengals game day, Chris and I spent an amazing weekend in OTR for my birthday, and we showered Katie and Zach in anticipation of baby girl who will be here very soon! Not to mention simple family dinners, thrifting trips, and family movies.
I honestly could go on and on about all of the amazing moments in life lately. I feel so thankful for this beautiful chaos that is my world. And while no life is ever perfect – and yes, this is just a highlight reel – these little (and big) moments are what I choose to focus on. Life is hard, and gets to be so overwhelming at times. Worry and anxiety often plague me and I tend to focus on all of the scary things…but here’s the thing…there is ALWAYS something to be thankful for…so for now, I will focus on those things and cherish every moment – big or small.
Our family has experienced so many milestones in the past 6 months! From graduations to new homes to new jobs and marriages. There have been so many blessings! One big blessing that I have been praying for over the last several years is Zach, Katie and Parker moving closer to home! This past May they bought their first house and moved their little family from Columbus to Hamilton. Now, instead of being two hours away, they are less than 15 minutes. This has meant lots of pool time with Parker and his parents, and it also brought about Family Dinners! It has always been my dream to have family dinners with all ten of us every Sunday! I love planning and preparing the meal and having everyone come together before we all start the busy week ahead.
Tonight we all gathered at our house for a Mississippi pot roast, mashed potatoes, sweet corn, a fresh baguette, and warm apple crisp with ice cream! As we sat out on the patio enjoying this perfect evening, my heart was so full. I surprised everyone at the table with some question cards that everyone had to answer. Just to spur conversation. To put the phones down and talk. The question was “Which characteristic from someone in your family would you like to have?” Initially, no one jumped in to answer…and I thought my idea might be a flop. But, eventually each person went around the table and named a characteristic from someone else around the table that they wished they had in themselves. There was such beauty in everyone’s responses. Things that we shared – by being “forced” – were things that we most likely never would have taken the time to say to one another in a normal interaction. But hearing the kind words from each other was so touching. Watching my family’s faces light up when someone else pointed out one of their amazing qualities made me realize how important this silly little card was. And how important these weekly family dinners are to me. And to my family.
Last night Chris and I saw Rob Thomas in concert and he sang “Little Wonders,” which of course made me cry. And sitting here tonight after such a beautiful evening with my whole crew I hear the line from that song:
Our lives are made in these small hours, these little wonders, these twist and turns of fate. Time falls away, but these small hours, these small hours still remain.”
These small hours tonight meant the absolute world to me. These people who sat around my table are my little wonders.
My girl has had a BIG month. She finished her student teaching! Landed a long-term sub for the second part of the school year. Graduated from Miami University – love and honor – with her Bachelor’s Degree in Education. And yesterday she got engaged! Watching her sail gracefully through all of these milestones has been incredible. My heart is full of so much pride and happiness for her. I do my best to tell her often how proud I am, but I don’t think that she truly grasps the depths of my love and pride.
Caroline – Carty to most people who know her – has always been filled with grit and spunk. She is feisty and tenacious but also has a huge heart for her friends and family. She has always faced life with great determination. When she was in middle school, she began having a lot of pain in her hips. To compensate for that pain, her feet turned in and she ran and walked in the most unnatural way. But she kept going. After countless specialists and six months of constant pain, we finally were told that she had a torn labrum in her hip that would require surgery. She faced it head on. The recovery included a lot of painful physical therapy and during this time she had to learn to sit on the sidelines. Not playing sports like she always had was a challenge for her. But she endured. She set the goal for herself to be back for soccer her freshman year of high school. I loved her initiative, but I was worried she would end up disappointed…especially when she told me that her goal was to make the Varsity squad, as a freshman, coming off this major surgery. I tried to “guide” her expectations, without squelching them. That young lady worked her tail off, while still recovering, and she did it!
This is just one example of her strength and perseverance. And there are so many more. So am I surprised that she was so amazing in college? Not one bit. She worked a full time job while taking a full load each semester. She went into a classroom of 21 kindergartners and shined! And now she’s a college graduate!
Watching her bloom and grow is one of the greatest joys of my life. We had a surprise party to celebrate her engagement to Zach last night. Surrounded by friends (a lot of friends) and family, I just sat back and watched her glow! I am beyond excited for this next chapter in her life. Finding a full time teaching job, planning a wedding, and becoming a wife! Through all of these exciting milestones, I hope that she realizes how proud we all are of her!
The house is so quiet today. School is out until January 7th. All the presents have been bought and wrapped. The house is clean (ish). Laundry done. Dishes done. I am having a hard time just being still today. I told myself last night that today was going to be a rest day because the last two weeks have been nonstop and I just feel exhausted. And when I woke up this morning I was excited about the prospect of having nothing that had to get done, and nowhere to be. But here I sit, it’s not even noon yet, and I am struggling with the nothingness. I am having a hard time with the rest. That shouldn’t be a bad thing…that I need to be busy…but as I sit and ponder the real reason, I think it is a bit troublesome.
The lack of noise and busyness today is forcing me to be alone with my thoughts and with my emotions. I have a lot of time to reflect on the year that has gone, and anticipate the one that lies ahead. When life is busy and chaos is all around, I am not forced to be alone with my thoughts. It just becomes easier to avoid the voice inside and to deal with all of the stuff that requires attention.
This past year has been filled with so many blessings and I find it hard to believe all of the moments and memories I got to experience. As I look through all of my pictures and journal posts I am overwhelmed with the life I led in 2024. There were so many firsts in my life this year. My first time in Paris. Our first vacation with ALL of us. My first time kayaking…in the Pacific Northwest. Parker’s first sleepover with Mimi and Pap. My first girls’ trip with my friends. And so many other little moments that were true blessings. SO many highlights. I have so many things to be thankful for in this life. But the year was not all highlights. There were some really hard times. Some challenges that I never dreamed we would face. But still in it all, I have so much to be thankful for. Trying to remember all of it today as I process all of the memories of the year.
This time of year is so hard for me. For some reason it always has been. This is a very unpopular opinion, but Christmas is just not “the most wonderful time of the year” for me (and many others). Today I am trying not to let myself slip into the sadness that slowly tries to envelope me. The quiet, stillness of the day is making that a challenge. Facing the sadness – when I’m supposed to be happy – is not really what I want to do today, but I know that it really is an exercise in wellness…to acknowledge the feelings and to process them. So…what do I do in the quiet moments. Find joy. Find the things that bring me joy and remind me of what fuels me. One of those things is writing. Writing to process. Writing to heal. Writing to feel joy.
When I opened up my blog site to do that very thing, I was hit with the fact that my last blog post was over 10 months ago! I am sad and embarrassed by that fact. Writing and sharing is a big part of who I am – and I have lost that for nearly a year. I think back to all of the things that I could have shared over the past year, and yet I didn’t. I guess I need to figure out the why in that today. Looking back through all of my blog posts, it seems that I have several out there that start with “It’s been a long time since my last post…” or something to that effect. I’m trying to give myself grace and not be too hard on myself. Trying. I think that sometimes I am afraid to write about the reality of my world. Sometimes, even though I know it would be therapeutic, I don’t share because it’s hard. It’s not pretty. It’s scary to think of being judged. But I have always aimed for this blog to be authentically me. I want to be real and write about real things – for myself. So here we go. I am going to resolve to share ALL of the things over the next year. And maybe even look back on 2024 and share the good and the bad. And in the meantime, I am going to practice being still.
Thanks for letting me ramble and reclaim some of the joy that writing brings me. Much love.
I am absolutely fascinated by how the brain – my brain – works. By how one tiniest little thing can trigger memories that are so vivid and strong. Memories that seem so minute and even trivial can be conjured up by the smallest thought about something else.
This morning I was going through my normal Saturday morning routine. I had journaled and completed my devotional and was moving on to my first task of the day – meal planning and groceries. It’s something I do every Saturday morning. Since I have conferences this week, Chris is going to cook two nights this week. Thankfully he’s cooking a meal he and the girls love – and I won’t be home to eat it, because honestly I hate it. He lists all the ingredients he needs for his Swedish meatballs and I add them to my list. While ordering all of my groceries I came to one of his items – French Onion Soup. The instant I typed those words into my Kroger search bar, I was flooded with a memory from my childhood. A fond memory (that had nothing to do with Swedish meatballs!) I was transported back to my parents kitchen. My sister and I were sitting at the table and my daddy was doing the cooking. I could smell the goodness coming from the stove where he worked. When he turned around to bring the food to the table, we were so excited. Daddy had made French Onion soup – like the real deal – in individual crocks for us. The cheese on top was slightly browned and bubbling. As we dug into it we came to the next layer – the crusty bread – that was hiding in a rich, onion-filled broth. It was the first time I had ever had French Onion soup and I have loved it ever since. I can still see those brown crocks that held our soup. I can still feel the slight sting of the hot cheese as it strung from my bowl, over my spoon and messily landing on my chin. This dinner was not a special occasion dinner. It was just a random weeknight when, for some reason, my daddy was cooking. There was nothing memorable about this date on the calendar.
I have not thought about that meal made by my daddy in a very long time. But the simple act of ordering a can of soup today brought that dinner to my mind in an instant. And I’m so thankful it did. I don’t know why that meal, those moments have stuck with me, and why they came back in a rush today. Perhaps that is, for some reason, a core memory that I have held onto. I’m just in awe of how the brain stores memories and then releases them when a hint of them comes to mind. Because today, that memory turned a mundane task that often I gripe about into a few quiet moments to soak in a happy moment from my childhood. Totally unexpected, but so so appreciated.
Edit to add: I understand that “core memories” are not rooted in science, and that the term actually became popular from a Pixar movie. However, I do think that for some reason, this particular memory held some sort of special emotional value to me for it to re-surface in the way that it did. With such vividness and clarity. With so much emotion attached to it. So, yeah, Pixar or not, science or not, for me this was a core memory.
Do you ever hear a song that stops you in your tracks and in an instant floods you with memories and an ocean of memories?
I was driving home from school one day this week when I was completely overcome by a song. Being with twenty-six ten year olds all day long is pretty noisy and chaotic, so most days I prefer to travel home in glorious silence. But this day, I decided to play my “Momma Chill” playlist to try and center myself and reflect on the day. As I crept up to the traffic light, the familiar guitar chords began.
It was Annie’s song by John Denver. One of my all time favorite songs ever. It is one of the first songs I ever really remember my brother singing and playing on his guitar. As I listened, the tears came in a torrent down my cheeks. I hadn’t heard this song in such a very long time. I had honestly forgotten it was even a part of this playlist.
The tears turned into violent sobs as I proceeded through the intersection. I even considered pulling over to calm down. I missed my brother. I kept thinking how desperately I wanted to hear him sing, just one more time. I wanted to remember the last time that I had heard him sing this song, and I was angry at myself that I couldn’t find that memory. When was the last time he sang it? I’m certain that when I heard it, I had no idea that it would be the last time. None of us knew or understood that we would be facing a lot of those “last times” when he found out he was sick. The yearning in my chest to go back and appreciate his music was smothering.
But here’s the thing, I can’t go back. None of us can, and none of us know when we share moments together that they could be the last time.
I am still wading through the grief of my brother’s death. Somedays I can smile about the memories and other days I can’t stop the tears. Some days I can sit in my memories of times with him, and other days a mere picture of him brings me to my knees. That’s grief, I guess.
I have thought a lot about this idea of “the last time…” watching my brother battle cancer and eventually succumb to it. I don’t understand for a minute why it was him that had to die so young. I have asked God a hundred times why our family has had to endure such a significant loss. I may never know why. But here is what I do know…I may never know when a moment with a loved one may be the last time. I believe that the best way I can honor my brother is to savor every chance I get to spend with family and friends. To be so present, and to treat every moment like it could be the last time.
Thank you for my love of music, and for that lesson, Todd.
Jodie, Janette, mom, and I had been planning for weeks for the big party for Papa. We had shared multiple messages about the decorations, the guest list, and of course, the food. We were all super excited that the baby, Janette, was able to fly down to be with us to celebrate. The anticipation for the big event was building.
On the Friday before the party we had planned a shopping trip to Costco to buy all of the food we needed for the party. Carty joined us for our girls’ day, and the five of us set out early to run all of the errands together. I cannot remember the last time we were all able to spend an entire day together like that. We laughed, cried, bickered, and teased ourselves through the morning as we loaded up with way more food than we really needed. The plan was to shop early and then spend the afternoon prepping food. Jodie had found our grandmother’s recipe for Waikiki Meatballs and the plan was to attempt to make them just like Edith used to. We followed her hand written recipe to the letter. As we worked through each step, we shared stories of our sweet Grandma, and teased each other that “that’s not how Edith would have done it.”
As we sat at the table rolling dozens and dozens of meatballs, we tried to remember the last time Grandma had made them for us. We decided it had been over seventeen years! Every Christmas Eve we would gather at Grandma’s house. She would have her house decorated beautifully. The table would be set with flowers and candles. And every year, in addition to a wide variety of finger foods, Grandma would always serve up a big batch of her Waikiki Meatballs. I can remember it like it was yesterday. She would serve us on her small, delicate, crystal plates. Matching crystal cups surrounded a large punch bowl. I remember thinking how “fancy” it all was.
The smell of them flooded the room, and my senses as my sister Jodie cooked. It is amazing to me how the brain works. As they cooked up, I was taken back to all of those Christmas Eve celebrations in an instant. All of us remarked how they smelled just like when Grandma made them. But the anticipation for whether they would taste the same continued to grow. Finally we couldn’t wait a minute longer. As soon as the taste filled my mouth, tears began to spill from my eyes. They tasted exactly like my Grandma had made them. It filled me with so much nostalgia. I felt joy as I remembered what an amazing woman my Grandmother was. I felt so sad that she was no longer around to share life with. I felt excitement that we had the recipe and could continue making it for our families.
As we carried on our work of preparing for the party, we shared so many memories. Memories of our Grandmother. Stories about our childhood and trips we had taken together. And it all started with that recipe. We were enjoying our time together so much that we turned it into a slumber party. We perused through hundreds of pictures. We shared storied. We snacked (occasionally sneaking a meatball or two when Jodie wasn’t looking). We decorated. We stayed up way into the way laughing and talking.
This time with my mom and sisters is priceless and I will never forget this weekend. The party was amazing and it was so good to see all of the people who came out to love on my daddy. But if I’m being completely honest, the unexpected highlight of the weekend was the time spend and memories created with my sisters and mom. I will cherish those forever. Our family has been through a really rough time over the last year. Even though we are so very different and at times those differences cause us to bicker and fuss, we are still family. And family is everything. I’m so thankful that my daddy is still around to celebrate his eightieth birthday. I’m thankful that his birthday created a weekend for my sisters and mom to be together. And I’m even more thankful for Grandma’s Waikiki Meatballs, and that old handwritten recipe.
We gathered yesterday to celebrate my Daddy’s 80th birthday. My sisters, mom, and I had spent weeks and weeks planning this celebration for everyone’s favorite Papa. We had cooked a huge variety of party food, ordered an amazing cake, decorated with balloons and banners, and were ready to host a huge invite list of family and friends. I had been so focused on crossing items off of our lengthy to do list for that day that I hadn’t really thought about the date. Of course, I knew the date – February 18th – but there was more significance to this date above and beyond my daddy’s birthday. Yesterday marked the two month mark since our brother had passed.
Two months. It has taken me two months to even try to write about my brother’s passing – and I’m certain that I will not be able to articulate all that I need and want to say in one post. My brother battled cancer for almost two years. Throughout that fight, he never lost his positivity. When I would go to visit him, I would feel anxious – not because I didn’t want to see him or spend time with him – but because I truly felt like I did not know what to say to convey what I was feeling. I would go to comfort him, but he would end up comforting me with the strength and grace in the way he battled. I am still walking through his death. I don’t think there is ever a timeline or roadmap for what an individual’s grief looks like, and sometimes I ask myself if this it really what it looks and feels like. I find myself smiling one moment about happy memories, and crying the next because he is no longer on this earth.
So yesterday, as we gathered for pictures to celebrate our daddy’s birthday, I was not expecting it to hit me so hard. My oldest brother, and two younger sisters posed wearing our new t-shirts with our favorite daddy sayings on them. Even as we had spent the morning choosing which quote we each wanted on our shirt, it didn’t hit me. Even as we smiled for the camera, it didn’t hit me. But later, as I sat scrolling through the hundreds of pictures from earlier in the day, it hit me hard. The four of us stood with our arms wrapped around each other, smiling and laughing. It should be five. He should have been here with us with his very own Daddy-saying across the front of his shirt. Five of us should have gathered with our parents for pictures at the end of the night. Five of us should have been singing happy birthday and watching daddy blow out his candles.
The day was filled with so much laughter and love. So many family and friends came with cards and gifts. We looked through old pictures of my daddy. We ate and drank and just spent time together. It really was a fun day. But just under the surface of all of those happy emotions, sadness and tears were dwelling. Yes, it was great to see everyone and be together, but we weren’t really all together. And we never will be again. We are so blessed to have our daddy still with us and going strong at eighty years old. But right next to that thankfulness lives sadness and anger about the fact that our brother is not here with us.
I am learning through my grieving process that there will always be these conflicting emotions. And that is okay. It’s okay to smile and laugh and enjoy life and be sad and angry that my brother is not here to enjoy life with us. I stepped out on the back patio yesterday during the chaos of the party to catch my breath and settle my tears. Perched on the railing of the fence surrounding our pool was a red cardinal. In my heart, my brother was with us yesterday, and that cardinal was my sign that it’s going to be okay. That I’m going to be okay. That its okay for me to feel all of the things I am feeling in every moment.
There are so many more thoughts and memories that I have to share about my big brother, Todd. Today was the first step in that process. I look forward to being able to process all of those emotions through my writing. Stay with me!
It’s a dreary, rainy day here. I am all about lazy, slow Saturdays…but I’m still holding tightly to summer and was hoping to relax poolside all weekend. So for now, I’m embracing my inner couch potato and relaxing inside of the quiet, empty house. As I searched the kitchen for something to fix for lunch, soup seemed appropriate for this rainy day. I picked out a can of clam chowder. I love clam chowder. I haven’t had a bowl of it in a long, long time. As I pulled the steamy, hot bowl out of the microwave, I was suddenly overcome with emotions that I couldn’t quite understand or explain. (I mean, I DO love to eat…but normally do not get giddy over food).
And then it hit me. My grandpa used to make clam chowder all the time. Not just any clam chowder. Owen made the best giant pot of clam chowder I have ever tasted. I miss my grandpa. He was truly one of a kind. Owen Edward Lykins could do just about anything. His signature dish was indeed clam chowder, but he also made the fluffiest scrambled eggs I have ever tasted. I remember sitting in the kitchen with him once while he was making those famous eggs. He told me that the key was cooking them slow on very low heat. He said, “It it doesn’t take you at least 45 minutes to cook eggs, they just won’t be right.” He was always full of wisdom and quirky phrases that we still use in his honor everyday.
When you asked Grandpa a question – any question – to which the obvious answer was “yes” he would retort “Does the Pope wear a dress?” When finishing one of his stories and switching subjects, his go to phrase was always “Anywho…” And oh the stories. He loved to tell his stories. Even if he had told the same one over and over, he would tell it with his quick wit and gusto. My grandma would often roll her eyes and remind him that we had all heard the story, but it did not slow him down. When Grandpa was thinking on something, he would always say, “I’m going to urinate on that.” Isn’t it funny the things we remember from the people who aren’t with us anymore!?
As I ate my canned clam chowder (I’m sure Grandpa was rolling over in his grave) I was overcome with sadness. It hit me that when I ate my grandpa’s clam chowder, I didn’t know that it would be the last bowl of it I would ever eat. As a matter of fact, I can’t even remember when that was. But I certainly didn’t know it would be the last. I would give anything to be sitting in the kitchen watching Grandpa cook and listening to his stories (even if I had already heard them a hundred times before). I miss the way he loved his family. I miss watching him spoil his dog – even carrying her around in his half-buttoned shirt. I miss the way he used duct tape to “fix” anything and everything in his house and garage. On the day of his funeral, the hem of my pants came loose right before it was time to leave for the funeral home. In true Owen fashion, I “hemmed” them with some trusty duct tape. And I know he would have been so proud.
I am thankful that a simple can of soup made me slow down today and remember my grandpa for a few minutes. I am thankful of the reminder to love each other hard and appreciate the people in our lives because here’s the thing…we never know when one of those reminders might be the last.
Julie Anne Taylor 