My daddy pulled the trigger and broke my heart.

I haven't blogged in a year. Something happened and I haven't really wanted to write about it or anything else until now...so here I go.

It was a year ago yesterday that I heard my daddy say "I love you too," for the last time. And it was a year ago today that I found out he had passed away. Actually, saying 'passed away' puts diamonds on what happened so let's try this again.

It was a year ago today that my daddy shot himself. It's such an ugly thing to say. It really is. And until you've been through the situation personally, lost someone to their own will, will you agree with me. I remember every ugly detail of that day. I remember my mom calling me to alert me what had been seen on Facebook. I remember other people calling me to see if I knew what was going on. I remember some calling to say, "There's no way J.D. There's no way." I remember calling around to see if we could find him, because, I live five hours away...going door to door wasn't an option for me.

And then I remember the squealing tires of a yellow school bus stopping in front of my house, my husband running through the door with fire and hurt and fear in his eyes. I remember the reluctance behind his face. He didn't want to have to tell me what he knew, but he did. My poor husband.

I remember having to put my hand over my chest because I really thought my heart was going to leap from my chest. You read about that in books, and hear people say it in movies, but to experience it is a different feeling all on its own. I remember trying to take a shower and throwing up all over the place. I remember feeling as though someone's hands were all over me and I pushed them away. It could have been an anxiety attack, but I could've sworn, in that moment, it was my daddy saying, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, forgive me."

I didn't want that though. I didn't want apologies. I wanted him.

I remember pulling into Abilene, finding my youngest brother (who's a foot taller than me), I let his arms wrap around me and I could feel the blood pulsing beneath his skin. And I cried. He didn't. Not in that moment. Instead he was expressing his anger the best way he knew how and that was with silence.

I remember my other brother ordering me the strongest drink on the bar menu at Texas Roadhouse. He said I needed to not feel for a little bit. So I drank and actually felt nothing. Seriously. The alcohol didn't effect me at all. I was already numb.

I remember seeing my daddy in the coffin for the first time and hardly recognizing him. But David, my brother, and savior in that moment, pulled me to the feet of my father and said, "look at the other side of his face." And there he was, my daddy.

I remember laughing because he looked like he had a dip in his mouth...which was entirely natural. And then I tentatively reached for his hands and felt the cold. Every groove and blistered bit was what I remember of growing up. I'll never forget my daddy's working hands and how they felt. And now the cold. I won't forget that either.

I'll also remember how his family rallied around each other to be there for me and my brothers. I'll remember the 400 plus attendants at the funeral. If anyone had tried to tell me my daddy was alone I would have laughed in their face. My daddy wasn't alone. He had the world...he just refused to accept it...

I'm going to change the subject for a moment to talk about the ways I've experienced death recently. I've had the luxury to watch someone beautiful die twice now. The first time was in March of 2012. My husband's Nana passed away after battling cancer. No, there's really nothing beautiful in that, or death, but the experience...it was beautiful. I watched my husband's family rally together, hold one another, sing her to her final resting place and bid her goodbye. Every time I entered the room, all eyes were on Nana, her every breath. You could tell everyone wanted each breath to be her last...but not really. If they had the option to hold on to her forever I know they would've. But. It was in the moment, when I was sitting on my husband's lap, a few cousins were scattered around the room, and we were talking and gently laughing about something other than Nana did she slip away. It was as if she waited for the moment when everyone had a smile on their face, and when she knew all would be okay did she go.

The family fell, of course, on their knees, around her bed, into each others arms, to wail and pray. And in every heart breaking moment all I could think was, "this is beautiful."

At this point in my life I'm watching my father-in-law wilt away due to the effects of ALS. Another ugly ugly situation. But again my in-laws are binding together and finding ways to hold on to every ounce of love they have. My sisters-in-law will smile the brightest of smiles to Gordon's face and cry the moment he turns around. This isn't weakness. This is strength and they have it. I'm watching my mother-in-law nurse another soul to the path of heaven with such grace that all I can do is lift her up in prayer. And I'm watching my husband stay busy, and loving, and act every bit as the man of the household...all the while knowing he will be losing two fathers in the span of two years. I'm watching this and again, there is beauty.

However, let's get back to the ugliness.

I am past the anger phase. I truly am. I know it sounds like I'm still angry, but I think the bitterness is deserved. I loved this man with every beat of my heart. I was a daddy's girl through and through and I've been marked with him quitting on life and on me.

My brother, David, has turned his life around in the last year and a half. I used to think he harbored a monster inside of him as a result of being in the army...which is partly true...but he's found reason to live, to love others, and more importantly love himself. It's a miraculously beautiful thing to see and my daddy is missing every moment of it.

Please please, I do not need to hear that "He's in heaven's balcony, watching the things we do," bit. I want him here. I want him to see David. I want him to hug my brother and tell him that he is legitimately PROUD of how he is living his life. David deserves to hear that from his daddy because I don't think he ever had. It's one thing to have everyone else tell you, but to live your life in the shadow of your father and then to never hear those words from him is a story all in itself.

Now Michael. Michael has a lot of life left to live and experience. He's nearly seventeen, and of course he "already has life figured out," as all seventeen year olds do. Ha! He hurts differently than the rest of us. He has many vices and none of them are good. He finds peace in potions and I do raise my fist at my dad because that pistol caused a lot of this. He'd never admit this, but he lives life with fear taking control of most of his decisions. He's afraid of new. He's afraid of rejection. And he's afraid to feel. He wasn't like this a year and a half ago.

There is a future in my brother. I don't doubt it for a second. He has the ability to find the value in his own life and make something of himself...but he has to learn how to deal with abandonment, and it's not an easy thing to do. He's going to graduate high school, college, get married, bring children into the world all without the wisdom and advice of his daddy. But, he was robbed.

And me. I'm pregnant. Something I didn't expect, and I won't lie, I didn't necessarily want to happen. But it's a little boy. Who's going to teach this kid to pitch?! No that's not my greatest concern, but hell, it was definitely a dream of mine to have my daddy teach a kid of mine the Slurve...or whatever that is. I am mad and angry and I do hurt, because a year ago when my daddy told me he loved me too, he had promised to come visit very soon. He told me he missed me and wanted to see the new town we lived in. He promised me the world in a ten minute conversation, said he loved me, and shot himself six hours later.

He had SO much to live for and so many people who loved him that I still sit here at a loss. Suicide is ugly! The people that love me will patiently sit by my side and listen to my words but it's ugly and I hate burdening people with it. I miss my daddy and not one day went by for the last year where I didn't think of his face, his last moments, and then wonder what more could I have done for him. Well, everything. I could have done more of everything. I could have stood up for his life when he was living and drinking his paychecks away with that woman. I could have told him how happy I was that they broke up because she was never good for him. No good person pushes that much alcohol into your life when you're depressed at where your life is headed. She did that and I never stood up for my daddy's life.

It's possible that I was complacent with the fact that he WAS alive and now that it's too late, I've worked the situation backwards to see where I could go back and fix it. But I can't.

I do know, that with God's good grace I'll be able to hug my daddy's neck once again. I know that all the hurt he felt in the last couple years of his life stopped the moment he pulled the trigger. But it still sucks. And hurts.

I miss you, daddy.

It's been a few months...

Well, hello there neglected blog of mine. How ya been? I'm sorry I put you to the way far back part of my mind but a lot has happened in the last few...well, since March. Let me tell you all about it.

We moved.

Aaaaand that about sums it up. Except it's so much more than those two words. It might have been April or May when we were looking for a house closer to where Mitch had been coaching over the last few years and then one Wednesday night he came home and said, "Well, I have a job interview in Bellville."

To which I said, "That's great...........................where's that?"

Three days later he walked through the door and said, "I got the job. You wanna move?" To which I pointed to the already packed boxes. I knew it was going to happen and I will admit to you (since I've admitted to everyone else) that I was throwing a fit inside. I didn't want to move, even if it was only 45 minutes away from where we were. I was so comfortable where we were, and after seeing Bellville for the first time I was in serious tantrum form. Forty five minutes might as well have been three hours away from everything I was used to. Target, Ross, Chick-fil-a, Taco Cabana, BJ's Brewhouse, Starbucks, Panda Express, Cherry Berry...

After making this mental list I realized that I was throwing a fit because we were leaving convenient food and other money sucking establishments. Yes, Target, I'm looking at you. I go into you with one thing on my mind and get distracted by all the pretty and spend $250 in twenty minutes. So I put on my big girl panties and found something else to throw a fit over. I got really sad about leaving the new relationships I had just built. I'm fine now. I've adjusted. I miss everyone still and our church but that can be remedied by us just waking up on Sundays and looking for a new Home.

So. Here we are now in Bellville. After living here for less than a day Petey got loose and chased after a stray horse.

From that moment on I knew life would be different here.

I'm working now and I'm giving pitching lessons and am really getting used to small town life. I love Dairy Queen tacos, the hamburger joint, the chinese joint, the pizza joint, and the cafe. I don't remember the last time I put gas in my Jeep because it takes me 84 seconds to get everywhere in town.

It's interesting going places and have everyone know me. In Tomball I embraced my anonymity. In Bellville, I put on make up to go to Dollar General, because, well yeah, I'm going to be seeing people I know. I also know that it's best to not to get comfortable after a day of work immediately (and by comfortable I mean take off bra/pants/whatever else sucks the life out of a woman) because anyone will walk through your front door at any given time and it just gets awkward when you're meeting someone for the first time in a spaghetti strapped tank top.

Moving on.

The girls are excelling in school. Jaxon was tested in reading comprehension early on and read 55 words in a minute, placing her at fifth in her Kindergarten class. She probably could have done better if she would have refrained from telling stories while doing the flash cards.

*Blue* "Oh, blue is one of my favorite colors."
*Pink* "But really pink is my most favorite."
*Green* "And my mother just LOVES green." And so on...

Maddi is going to a little Day School at the Episcopal church here and says her prayers, which are adorable. She doesn't get into trouble, and the teachers think she's the cutest thing...which is why she's probably not getting into trouble. Her face keeps her from getting into trouble around home too.

So yeah. We've moved and our life is changing. It's busy, it's fun, and it's happening. One last thing, November will be here in a few days and I'm going to try my hand at NaNoWriMo again. Lord, help me. So if I continue to blog, it just means I'm distracting my writing with writing.

Here are a few pictures over the last few months. Enjoy!

Jaxon graduated from Little Champs. 

We landed tickets to the NCAA championship in New Orleans this year. We were able to enjoy as much of NOLA as we could in one day. Basically we ate a lot of delicious food. 

And we became Kentucky fans. 

And they won!

Jaxon learned to love Soccer. 

And Maddi drank a lot of Gatorade. 

Jaxon scored her very first goal. 

And we may have celebrated just a little. 

And our very first trophy!

There was lots of watermelon this summer. Seriously, probably every meal contained watermelon. 

Someone turned five and got her ears pierced. My big girl. 

And we were in a wedding for the first time! My little flower girls!

Enjoyed our first Ranger game...

Jaxon started Kindergarten and I cried buckets for weeks. 

Her teacher is perfect though and we thank God for blessing Jaxon with her. 

Maddi hasn't been the least bit upset about having to go to school either. Which obviously breaks my heart. 

Maddi's school had a wonderfully adorable Fall Festival. 

We got pumpkins and turned into them as well. 

And painted pumpkins and jumped around in a jump house. 

Football Friday Nights are a thing again. 

There's been a lot of dress up. 

This was my dress a bajillion years ago. 

We found the perfect baby sitter and she plays dress up too.  

And Petey hasn't gone after anymore stray horses, but he really is enjoying the shorter counter tops. 

School Pictures!

And the Austin County State Fair was a big hit with the girls. As you can imagine. 

They entered into a Stick-Horse race. Both lost...but they were adorable. 

Saturday Cinnamon Rolls with Maddi

Children make an art out of eating a Cinnamon Roll. If you've never had the chance to see this go down, I suggest you find a carton of wipies and pull up a chair. But don't come too close, wipies can only do so much.

In my experience, all children begin by eating the top. This may be a brilliant move, seeing that's where all the icing is. 

Once the icing is out of the way, they work their way from the inside out. I tend to see an error in this way because I like to enjoy the center last. But whatever, to each their own.

Obviously, take time to savor each bite. 

Every bite. 

Then, when almost done with the first roll, they must ask for the next. Even if they think they are full, this will happen.

And when it takes longer than five seconds for mom to answer, they beg. "Pleeeeeease." 

My Little Ladybug

Well, my Little Peanut, my First Born, my Dumplin', Love Bug, Little Miss Jaxon had her very first practice for her very first organized team sport and I couldn't be more excited/enthused/distraught. Yes, distraught. My baby girl is growing up and she does at least one thing a day to remind me of that. Sometimes it's as little as getting dressed all by herself and other times she's translating her little sister's words (with no enthusiasm at all, I might add). But today, after folding her socks over her shin guards and lacing up her cleats my heart clenched and it hasn't really relaxed yet. I mean, what is in store for my baby girl's life?!

While she was running around, dribbling the soccer ball, I couldn't take pictures fast enough. I wanted digital proof that all of this has happened...and then Maddi knocked the phone out of my hand and said, "WATCH JAXON!" Well, sure, I thought, mental snapshots are just as important. I watched and memorized her run and how she would slightly trip after stopping the ball. Her hand was nonchalantly slapping away her pigtails when they got in her line of sight. Her goalie-face. How she ALWAYS dribbled to her right in stead of straight ahead.  And my most favorite moment of her first practice was during the first drill where she had a partner. She was supposed to dribble the ball as far as she could and then her partner was to chase her down after a few seconds and try to steal the ball away. She'd gone so far her partner was looking for her and Jaxon turned back to wave the girl chasing her, "Come on! You can do it!!" Silly little things that only a momma would notice, and notice I did. I love seeing her cheeks flushed like her life is being lived, that she's running as fast and hard as her healthy legs will carry her and that she enjoys it. And you know? Most of all, I love that her little sister wants to be a part of all of this as well.

Goalie Face.

After Maddi got over how unfair it was that her older sister got to play and she was to stay across the white line she sung a different tune. One boy had taken Jaxon's ball (which was okay because balls were everywhere)  and Maddi noticed. She ran straight up to him, yelled, "That's my sister's ball!" ripped it out of his hands, and then found big sister to show her what she'd done to help her out. All of these moments, moving pictures in my mind, just like Harry Potter's picture frames, will forever be etched in my memory. I don't know what's in store for her life but I hope that she lives every day to the best of her capability. If her legs work I want her to run, I want her to see things that make her eyes shine, and I want her to be thirsty and I want her to Believe. All these things I want for her and more.

(And just for the purpose of clarification  I want all this for Maddi as well, but this is a Jaxon post because it was her first day of practice and all.)

Rodeo Day.

It's Rodeo Day at school today. There's a possibility of riding horses and the girls are in that scared!excited!omg!!! state. Can you tell?

I'm 90% sure there will be more pictures later this afternoon.

Early morning thought processes...

Waking up at 4am was not on my list of things to do today. In any case, here I am, awake, since 4am, with my not-so-partner-in-crime, Maddi.

This isn't her right this minute...but this is what she looks like after waking up at 4am. I, however, do not. So you won't see a picture of me here.

Maddi and I aren't necessarily on speaking terms at the moment...since, you know, she woke me up at 4am without any intention of going back to sleep. So, what have we done since 4am? Well, we started out back in her bed, because trying to get her back to sleep isn't a bad idea, right? Sure. Whatever. Instead of going back to sleep I taught her about lightning. And thunder. Because that's what was going on outside her window. Every .03 seconds there would be a flash and she would gasp, "Who's dare?!" and then every 8 seconds the rumble of thunder would rattle her window and she'd exclaim, "Whassthasound?!" And that's how I found myself explaining the process of lightning and thunder to a two year old at 4am. It's also how I stumbled upon an unsettling question and the purpose of this post.

I'm sure I could google this, but what's the fun in that? I'd rather just share my 4am ramblings with you on blogger/facebook/twitter (wherever it is your finding me). So, while explaining to Maddi about Benny Franklin and his kite in the lightning storm I had an errant thought (because they come from every direction when I've only had four hours of sleep). While the lightning flashed, so did my memories about all the West Texas thunderstorms I'd experienced the majority of my life. Thunderstorm season usually correlates with softball season out there and numerous times, from the age of seven to twenty-four, I can recall having to clear the metal bleachers of fans because why? Well, no one wants their butt to fry by a freakish bolt of lightning. Why does this matter?

Well, remember it was 4am, and I'm laying in my kid's bed which is surrounded by rails. You know the kind? Their initial purpose is to keep one's child from rolling out of their bed at night because children never stop moving, even when sleeping. And they're metal-like (I don't know my alloys so I don't know what kind it is) and I had a moment--thinking back to the softball bleachers--and wondered if it's safe to be laying in my kids bed that is surrounded by metal rails when there is a lightning storm raging outside.

My face was similar to this.

Sure, this isn't one of those things I should really be worrying about. I'm sure all are completely safe from the lightning and that these measly, metal bars aren't sending out signals to the bolts of electricity surrounding the house. But, again, it was 4 am. 

And now you've been included to my morning thus far.

Super Heroic Friends

My little miss Jaxon is growing up, and yeah, it breaks my heart in a good way. A few months ago she started going to Mother's Day Out and I can hardly keep up with all the changes. She can go to the bathroom completely by herself, she picks out her own clothes to wear (mostly), and is the biggest help with her sister.

She even opens up all the contents of her lunch by herself, which is pretty amazing considering I can't open up a Lunchable without spraying crackers all over the place...or even a juice box without it coming out of the other side of the straw. Big. Stuff.

So, the other night she told me she needed to wear her Captain America t-shirt to school. When I asked why she told me that the boys would let her play if she wore it. Well, since I don't do laundry on a daily basis Captain America shirt wasn't clean. I had to do the "mommy advice" thing that sometimes doesn't make sense but it mostly does. I had said something along the lines of "well, honey, if they value your friendship, they won't care if you don't have that shirt on."

Then today happened. I was walking down the hallway on the way to chapel behind her class and Jaxon was squeezed in between a couple boys. One broke the ranks and ran up to her asking, "Hey Jaxon! When we go outside do you want to be Spiderman?!" She beamed, "YES OF COURSE!" and they continued on their merry little way.

I had a proud mom face for the rest of the day because not only did she get to play superheroes,
but she got to be her favorite one.