othersomethings.com

I can say it wasn’t love at first sight, because I honestly don’t remember the first time Shannon and I met. He remembers, but I really don’t. I do remember the first time I noticed him though. He was playing saxophone in the Holy Grounds cafe, with Chris Johnson and one or two others leading worship for the young adults church. I think I was with my friend Rebekah, and we were sitting at a tall table near the front.
I noticed him. He was different. I could tell he was probably a fun kind of person.

He tells me it was either that night or some other very near that we met. He introduced himself, we said hi, and I left. I seriously can’t remember it.

The night I DO remember is wandering around Merritt Island with my two brothers and my friend Jenny. We went to Barnes & Noble, maybe taco bell or steak n shake. Then we just sat in the car wondering what to do next, when I remembered hearing that the same cafe was having live music that night. So we went.

It was Shannon. With a few musicians he’d gathered to play jazz or whatever they wanted. The place was kinda empty, it was late. They played a song and I strong armed my brother TJ into geting up and dancing with me, since we had just learned a little east coast swing.

In hind sight, it should be obvious that we were making a spectacle of ourselves. Everyone was watching us. I was just amped up to have an opportunity to dance. Shannon noticed, of course. He came up to us after they were done playing and said something about being surprised at seeing us dance, and how it gave him an idea to hold swing dancing nights there. Whoa…ok, I guess that’s a cool idea. He asked I we’d help him organize it.

My memory gets a little fuzzy after that, but I went home feeling a very unusual emotion: excitement. It really had nothing to do with Shannon, he wasn’t on my radar AT ALL at that point. No one was. I wasn’t the dating type. I just wasn’t looking for love. I had big plans for my life, and a guy would gum up the works pretty bad. So none of that, thank you.

But the excitement I felt was enormous. Like can’t sleep, can’t think about anything else, jumping out of your skin excited. I have NO idea why. The dancing prospect, I guess. Getting involved in something fun for a change. Or maybe my spirit knew something my mind and heart yet didn’t.

I didn’t know I’d opened up a new world of inevitable discoveries and choices. Over the next few weeks and months, we worked together on this project. It was pretty sudden when the realization hit me that something was here. Something was being built, forged, something new and terrifying.

I discovered how much Shannon loved me. I discovered how hard it is to sleep or think straight when your heart is beating at breakneck speed all day and night. I discovered that God’s plan for my life wasn’t a matter of guesswork but of listening and obeying, and that I couldn’t have been more surprised by what He told me.

6 months of courtship later, Shannon asked me and I said yes.

11 months more, while the winds of Frances howled outside, our available family gathered in person and via cellphone, and witnessed us say “I do.”

I love you Shannon. Happy 5th.

Let’s put a 0 after that 5, shall we?

I really wish I had an iPhone for the previous 27 years of my life.

OK, maybe realistically like 17. Or 12. OK, 10.

If I’d had it to record and share events in my life the way I do now, I can just see the meter above my head marked “interesting person” scrolling to a much, much higher number.

I would have pictures of the time I fell off a thoroughbred horse and went to the ER, and the hoof shaped marks on my arm.

I’d have pictures of babysitting the catholic family with nintyeleven children. They made the Duggar family look tame. (coming from me, I know there is some irony there.)

I’d have a detailed account of the time Jenny and I decided to drive until we ran out of gas for the scientific purpose of finding out how accurate her gas gauge really was. Then we got to a bad part of town and realized how dumb the idea was and hit up the nearest gas station because neither of us knew how to talk to crack dealers effectively.

I’d have more vivid and accurate recollections of the crazy people I’ve worked for. Like pictures of the CD changer at Dr. Ward’s which had exclusively Yanni, Jim Brickman, and an occasional Beatles album. And the sucky murals I painted for her. And the weird discussions we had because I was a Christian and she was a “who knows spiritual whatever” and that was interesting to her.

I would have pictures of sitting on a street corner in Mexico feeling the most exhausted a human is allowed to feel, and placidly watching a parked car go from “normal car” to “blazing inferno”, to “pretty much no more car” as the nearby shop keepers resourcefully put it out before the firetruck got there.

And pictures and a story of the video store in Brazil that had 5 English dubbed titles and the selection was SO funny. I wish I remembered what they were. I’m pretty sure 3 of them were Harrison Ford films, and the other 2 Kung Fu.

Among the other interesting things I would have record of would be the week I was literally stalked by a crazy person while living on my own, the time time my brother and I got lost in a national forest in a jeep when neither of us were legal drivers yet and got chased by a swarm of wasps. Also the time I walked into an alligator pen obliviously chatting up the employee without realizing it until waaaaaay to late. And the one day when my neighbors were shooting air-soft guns at my front door and woke my daughter up. Oh wait, that was yesterday. Never mind.

There would also be a very alarming record of meeting Shannon for the first time and all odd events that followed. I guess that is important enough that some of those details are still burned into my mind with fair accuracy I think I will elaborate more. Later.

iPhone, you’re cool and helpful, but I sure could have used you a decade ago.

I’m starting to write this post several weeks before I will post it. Partly because I’m already thinking about it before it gets here. And partly because…I really have to think. Hard. About what needs to be said on this day.

6 years ago today, my brother died. For those who don’t know, he was 12. It was horrific. For those who do know, thank you for reading this anyway and allowing me to continue the intricate process of healing.

I wrote about it with more detail than I can now recall here…(that entry is NOT for the faint of heart) and filled a few entries with the The things I wrote then… shortly after the event. I knew the memories would fade, and I knew I needed to remember long after I was able. And recording things was…so important. I’m glad I did. And then there are tidbits like this:

“Better”

The funeral was last night.

I made it without crying until my mom made the kids put roses in the casket and say our own goodbyes.

The service itself was amazing.

Everyone actually feels better. It’s weird, but it contained all the closure that funerals are supposed to have. Probably because it’s all over now, and we can get on with learning how to live again. But seriously…I think everyone feels better on some level.

The funeral home did a terrible job with his face…the make up was unbearable. I thought about complaining, but then I realized…it was actually better that way because it just drove home the point that THAT wasn’t Alan. Just his body. Alan would never look like that, and it helped especially with all the kids.
I’ve never seen so many kids at a funeral. It seems like the whole neighborhood came. All the kids alan played with. And all the family, of course. Kids from church and from school groups….They had a chance to say something during the service too, and that was really neat. To hear what the other kids thought of Alan.

Yeah. I feel better. The hurt and confusion is still there, of course. But I feel free to move on and learn how to deal with it. I don’t have to keep hugging people and pretending I care about their sympathy. I don’t have to feel on edge, or like I have to meet people’s expectations.

There is healing. Now it can come.

There are two kinds of deaths, I’ve discovered. One is slower, a process, almost a natural course of events. Even if it’s only weeks, when you have warning, it feels different. The other is the sudden death. The only way I can describe an unexpected death is “traumatic.”

When my grandfather died, 4 years ago, we knew it was coming. It was relatively fast, but we had a few months warning. Time to put things in perspective, and process ahead of time the ramifications of a world without him.

With my brother…one moment the world was normal. The next moment, the ground was gone.

It has taken years, and is still being processed…what it means that he isn’t here anymore.

I never cried before that day. In my teen and adult years, tears just weren’t a part of my repertoire, and I could probably count on my hands the time I’d cried. I was stoic. Not given to emotion. Not interested in displays or drama.

That changed in seconds though.

If I ever took up acting, I would be able to do crying scenes like nobodies business. You know how they say “Think of your childhood pet, when you’re dog died” etc or something sad and you can cry? Really, all I have to think about is one moment, one aspect of that day, one little emotion I felt then or since, and I can command a waterworks. I feel it in my chest, the heaviness, the suffocation, and tears well up instantly.

I hate that.

“There is healing. Now it can come.”

I wrote that six years ago. At the time, the concept of being a whole person again seemed impossible, but I knew people did it.

I think I understand now, a little better…the healing does come. But it isn’t complete, and likely won’t be until…well…heaven.

A few times a year…today, his birthday, christmas, etc. these thoughts surface from the deep of my consciousness and the light shines brighter on these things I really don’t want to think about and emotions I want to forget, and feelings I would prefer not to feel.

And I think about the other people thinking the exact same things, like my mom, or my brothers, or my dad…and I know they’re dealing with it the best way they can too.