Grief.

Much has been written about it. Many have studied it, myself included.

And yet...

I don't believe a single one of us grieves the same way. Or over the same things.

Yes, death is the obvious reason to grieve. However, in my lifetime I have grieved for reasons other than death.

• Each time my heart was broken. At the age of 52 I still wonder if I will ever "get over" it. Of course, I have moved on, but man, oh man, when it feels like your heart has been put into the middle of the road and repeatedly run over and over and over...well, you either remember it too, or get the picture.
  
• Waiting for a call, text or email that will never come. Despite all the prayers in the world that it will.
• Getting divorced. I initiated it. Still, when the papers came that said it was final, I cried. (FYI: this was when I was 23.)
  
• Getting laid off from a job that paid handsomely with excellent benefits. Even though I knew it was coming, and even though I had resources galore at my disposal to "move on," it was still awful. For me, my job didn't define me, but it certainly defined a lifestyle I had to learn to live without.
  
• The Tuesday before Thanksgiving when I got a phone call that said, "Honey, I love ya, but I gotta be moving on..."
  
• That one day I learned my best friend was marrying my fiance - the guy who made that phone call.
  

Those are just a small part of my lifetime's worth of grievable moments. There is no timetable for moving on, getting over it, picking up the pieces, that works for all of us.

For me, I cope with humor. I cope with eating entirely too much of the "wrong" foods. I cope with hiding in my basement for hours on end. I cope with sleeping. I cope with writing. I cope with meditation. I cope with yoga. I cope with the help of a gifted therapist. I cope with the help of not one, but two psychics. I cope with my dearest of friends who get me and don't judge me. I cope with listening to same song on repeat for as long as it takes.

We ALL put on award worthy performances for the public. We smile, though our heart is breaking. We get dressed and put one foot in front of the other even when the very last thing we want to do is leave the cocoon of our blankets. We put on mascara, even though we will cry. We go out for meals with friends. We toast each other because we have gotten through another day.

When we need a good cry there is ALWAYS a movie or two we can watch that we know will do it for us. Steel Magnolia's anyone? Brian's Song? ANYTHING by Nicholas Sparks.

A friend of mine shared this version of this song with me. It is haunting and beautiful and might make you cry. I can now listen to it without crying.

Which I guess goes to prove, life happens. We keep living and loving and moving forward even when it seems we can't.

Right this second, as I write this, I know of more than, oh I don't know, fifty different people who are all going through trying times. They are experiencing life at the sorrowful end of the spectrum. 

Let's all just take a second, just one second, to close our eyes and send some love out there, to the people who are aching, who are sad, who are in need of the comfort of love although they may not be ready to leave their own cocoons quite yet.

Here's to all of us.

May the crawl out of the wreckage of grief go at exactly the right pace for YOU.

xo

THIS is my favorite look on a Sunday. Today, the salon is closed so it's like a Sunday!

We had a fabulous Christmas - the house was filled with 24 people from age 7 to 85. I took no pictures; I just basked in going from room to room and chatting with different people.

Bella doesn't feel all that hot, so we may head out to Urgent Care to get her checked out. When I called a little while ago I was told the wait was two hours, at the minimum. No one wants to wait that long in a room full of other sick people.

She can get seen at her primary tomorrow and just rest in for today in HER jammies.

As we head into 2015 I hope to write more, eat less and live abundantly. It seems so simple on paper.

xo

My friend Candace will love this. I googled "songs about relaxing." THIS song, came in number 1 out of 30 from this article.

This is my version of church. My homily of the day with guest speakers.

Today, the news remains unbearable.

So much senseless violence happens on the planet on a daily basis that it hurts my heart.

It is so fucking exhausting to read about mothers killing their kids, cops being shot gang style, human beings being targeted because of their color, their sexuality, their religion (this is the one that pisses me off the most - what - your God is "better" than the other God?!), this war, that war, a kidnapping, a murder, a rape, a beloved Bill Cosby no longer beloved, the injustices of so many people for so many reasons and let's not forget to be jolly.

For centuries, this kind of behavior has been going on. Eons of people not listening to each other. Not understanding. Trying to force the views of one another ON each other.

When will the tide turn?

I don't have an answer. I can't even pretend to. I just wish the mindless violence would stop.

In the name of love.

xo

ALL the lyrics matter.

U2 - Pride (In The Name Of Love)
One man come in the name of love
One man come and go
One man come here to justify
One man to overthrow

In the name of love!
One man in the name of love
In the name of love!
What more? In the name of love!

One man caught on a barbed wire fence
One man he resists
One man washed on an empty beach
One man betrayed with a kiss

In the name of love!
What more in the name of love?
In the name of love!
What more? In the name of love!

Early morning, April 4
Shot rings out in the Memphis sky
Free at last, they took your life
They could not take your pride

In the name of love!
What more in the name of love?
In the name of love!
What more in the name of love?
In the name of love!
What more in the name of love...

http://youtu.be/sxFY861LR2E

The news is brutal this week. The news is brutal every day, but when kids are involved it always seems that much worse. In order to combat the bad news I have decided today I will share some of the funnier, kinder, gentler, nicer stuff I have seen about recently.

First, Happy Hannukah to all who celebrate. THIS made me giggle.

THIS is one of my favorite videos I saw posted on Facebook.
It's so worth the watch.

http://youtu.be/NoHp2Rq8sMI

"Giving is the right thing to do." ~ Jarrett Wilson, age 9

This kid won a Samsung Galaxy Tablet and then decided to sell it so he could buy gifts for the kids on the giving tree.

Watch the video. It reminds you how good a heart can be.

http://youtu.be/lBh-v8CuN44

I know of many families that have been affected by cancer over the years. My sister Jane is very involved in Relay For Life and shared this story from USA Today. If you haven't bought a calendar for 2015 yet, may I suggest this one?

http://youtu.be/P6VAgoruTYU

Go out of your way today to find GOOD NEWS. To find things that make you smile or giggle or laugh or guffaw. It will take you on a mini vacation and help you to breathe just a little easier.

xo

Now for a little hometown love.
Because THIS makes ME smile.

http://youtu.be/0fQAMOrEAe0

Every year, Christmas falls on December 25. It has not deviated from this date in all the years I have been celebrating it. And yet, I remain particularly astounded this year at how utterly unprepared I am for it.

I haven't mailed Christmas cards in something like three years. If you're my friend on FB or you read this blog you get a fair showing of my kids throughout the year. At this point in their lives they aren't changing all that much. The dog looks essentially the same. I LOVE each and every card I receive. LOVE THEM. I am in awe of those of you who get that done.

The fake tree has been in the living room for two weeks. For the first week the top half of the lights weren't working. That got fixed. Now, it's by its lonesome, forlornly looking for an ornament or two to be added to it.

I have bin upon bin of Christmas paraphernalia and none of the wherewithal to bring it up, set it up, bask in it for a few weeks and then put it all away. 

I cannot understand how I got so much more done when the kids were little. I decided it was because of the magic of Christmas when they were younger. It had to be done. Santa was coming and my god, it WILL look like a wonderland no matter what.

In those days I telecommuted and had hour upon hour of conference calls. I couldn't get pinged on an IM as that technology didn't exist yet. And so, with my headset on and my phone attached to my body I could do tons of holiday prep work and still participate in the mind-numbing event called a conference call.

I would start baking in November. I don't even know if I have enough ingredients on hand for a full batch of Toll House these days.

My children need nothing. Zero, Zip. Zilch. Nada. Peter ordered his own gifts, had them shipped to his dorm room, then asked me to pay him back. Bella still has a pair of boots from LAST Christmas, brand new, in the box, because she hasn't treated them yet.

It is madness I say.

And yet.
And yet.
And yet, it will somehow get done.

There will still be a couple of gifts under the tree. The insanity of little kids is gone and with it come kids who want to sleep past noon and hang out in jammies all day long. It beats the 6:00AM wake-ups.

I am not alone.

This is the story in countless households across the land.

For today, I will continue to do what I can while attempting to remain in a holiday mood.

I wish *you* the same kind of day.

xo

Magic from Pentatonix.
It astounds me what they can do with only voices.
The video is fun to watch!

http://youtu.be/jt3oAyK_IG8

I began this several days ago and have been sitting on it. It was percolating in my head and my heart. It is long.

I was born in Bay Ridge Brooklyn where I spent the first six years of my life, 99.5% of which I have no memory of.

We moved to the "country," Massapequa, on Long Island, where all my formidable growing up really happened. Massapequa was often called Matzoh-Pizza back then due to the large Jewish and Italian population. I was a half Irish mutt.

My graduating class of over 600 students had less than ten black kids. 

With that said, I was raised color blind. My parents taught us from birth, we all bleed red, and that's all that matters.

I learned LOVE WINS way before Glennon Doyle Melton coined that as her own phrase.

I was brought to rally's of every kind. I was taught chants to shout during boycotts. I went to every church denomination in order to experience faith at a gut level.

When I was a young teenager, one of my friends made the ginormous mistake of saying the "N" word at my dinner table. My father didn't say a lot to our friends, but I can assure you THAT day, my dad let this kid know that was UNACCEPTABLE in our home.

I didn't experience or participate in racial prejudice except to fight against it. I confess to having prejudices against morons and people who refuse to use their directional signal. I once pondered if we were all blind, color would have no meaning. Smell probably would. Vocal tones probably would. The texture of clothes probably would.

I am privileged. 

I was born a white female in 1961.

I have never had racial slurs yelled at me.

I will never have a black son. I will never have to wonder if I am being pulled over because of the color of my skin; I can assure you it will because I was speeding.

I have worked with men and women of every color, religion and sexual preference.

I have had but a handful of black friends. I live in a predominately white community. My friend Leigh is a woman of color. She is my "go to" woman when it comes to Girl Scout issues, dance discussions, college angst, the fact that our dogs are litter mates and equally fabulous and dumb at same time. I know she is black. From my side of the the relationship, it has never been an issue, because she is and always has been, Leigh to me. Soccer sideline mama. The woman whose kitchen I was sitting in when the first drafts of TGHR logo were produced. My friend.

She posts inspiring FB posts that MAKE ME THINK. I like to read diverse opinions on a myriad of thoughts. I disdain blanket statements. I have a very hard time when others chose a stand based on political party lines, because at this point in time, politics is a free for all horror show. And that includes Olivia Pope, thank you very much.

Fuck fifty shades of gray. We are one million shades of human.

At one point I lived in Edison, NJ. My absolute dearest friend was Sharon.

She and her then husband Leo were a young, gorgeous couple with a baby girl. Sharon described their skin colors to me. Sharon's was "espresso bean black," Leo's was, "light cappuccino," and baby Jenna was as dark as her mama.  

The more I got to know them, the more I loved them. THE PEOPLE. I still have Sharon's mama's "Shirley Chops" recipe in my binder, and I have a shirt Leo gave me a hundred years ago that is oh, so, tattered.

Both Sharon and Leo were professionals who dressed to the nines. Leo was a buyer at the time for Ralph Lauren. It was stepping stone to many more lucrative jobs in the fashion industry. He wore exquisite suits.

I will never forget the story Sharon shared with me when Leo, in an overcoat, with a Coach briefcase, shoes shined so bright you could see your reflection in them, and Sharon, dressed in heels, an overcoat, stunning make-up, asked someone for the time. The person on the street they asked backed away. Leo had a presence. He, a 6'4", shaved head black man, and his tall wife asked the time and the person they asked was frightened.

I repeat. I was born a white girl. I have never experienced this.

When she became pregnant with her second child, the obvious truth was there was a 50-50 chance the baby could be a boy. And as the mama of a black son, Sharon was scared for a kid who wasn't even born yet.

Max was born. A beautiful, amazing, wondrous son. And she was worried and concerned and he was one hour old.

I ask all my white friends to think about if you were ever scared for your child before your child was even born because of their skin color? I doubt it.

Sharon and I lost touch over the years. (While I was writing this I tried to search her out on FB and couldn't find her.) But her stories (this is but one) have stayed with me for close to thirty years.

I managed an office in NYC and most of the women who worked for us (an additional three other managers, the one other woman was black) at that particular location were all black. I think we had close to 40 employees working in that department. They taught me a lot about being mom's to black sons. They taught me about being mom's to black girls. They taught me about being daughters, wives and sisters in a black family. Mostly, though, they taught me to LISTEN. When I left they gave me a Coach bag. A sumptuous, caramel colored, leather bag I used with pride and fabulous memories until it basically disintegrated. 

When I worked in White Plains, I had one black woman working for me among a whole lot of older Irish moms, and she taught me a few assorted quirky things I don't dare share here.

And so, again I state the obvious, I am white.

My uncle was a NYC cop. It is a one time thing, we don't have generations of cops.

When the Ferguson story was all over my newsfeed I felt a survivors guilt. I felt the same way with Trayvon Martin. I felt the same way about Dillon Taylor. I feel the same about Eric Garner.

I personally don't know ONE person who was AT the scene of any of these events.

I can read the millions of words written about these cases and more. I can read the posts on FB from law enforcement people. I can read the blogs that make you sit and think. Benjamin Watson's FB post is profound. (read it HERE) The interview with Chris Rock in New York magazine is brilliant. (read it HERE) Charles Barkley has been equally vocal. (read some of it HERE)

But at no point do I feel I know "the truth" about any of these cases because the truth is so mired in media bullshit.

And also, you know, I wasn't there.

What I DO believe is perhaps naive, coupled with a rose colored glasses approach to life. 

There are people who will always stir the pot. There are people who will always believe in only black and white answers. There are people who will do horrible, horrific things. There are thugs. There are thieves. There are heroes. There are angels.

None of these people are a particular color.

We are taught hatred, and bias, and how to be a criminal from other criminals. We are taught love and kindness and compassion from other like minded people. Children are colorblind until someone truly points it out to them.

As a HUMAN race we have GOT to take many long minutes to breathe. To stop being afraid.

Fear is what incites anger.

It can also incite peace.

May all of our collective fears start working to bring about some peace. Some dialog. Some COMPASSION.

It is my single greatest hope for our future. 

xo