Wednesday, December 12, 2018

Stay at home gals

We got the chance during Thanksgiving week to take care of our girls. It was physically exhausting for two old grandparents, (I can't think how we managed to raise our own kids, sometimes) but we loved every minute of it.

Our girls love to be at home in their playroom. We took them to the mall to ride the merry-go-round and the train. They had a blast. We took them to the McWane Science Center and they had a great time. But they are just as content to be at home playing "school" with Mimi in the playroom.

Rosie loves to be the teacher, and Viv and I just let her. Viv, of course, needs to also have a role to play, so right now I tell her she is the classroom leader and she seems content with that. I follow behind her and let her lead me through our "classroom" chores that our lovely teacher Miss Rosie gives us. Everybody is happy! (Usually)

I'm sure when she is bit bigger, she might insist on being the teacher. We will deal with that when it happens! I am just a student, because they teach me something every time I get the chance to spend time with them.

The two of them are just amazing to me. (Yes, I know-everyone feels the same way about their own grandchildren and that is ok.) I've said before that they bring us untold joy and they are medicine for our weary, wounded souls. But it is true. They do bring us joy and they do help our grieving hearts more than I can even say.

It was really good for us to be with them like that this year before Lauren's birthday arrived. It helped me get through that day.

14 years is a long time to miss your child, and I am just sure that no matter how many years it ends up being it will be a "long" time.  One minute is a long time to miss your child, and at any given moment, 14 years later even, you can be taken right back to that first minute you realized your child was gone.

One day, the time will mean nothing, but today it still does, and I am grateful for this time with my grandchildren. It helps make this time of missing my child a lot easier.

Two sweet girls on a train in the mall. 


His loss, our loss

I did not know him very well, but Jason was one of those people who was bigger than life. His stature alone could have seemed imposing, yet he had an innocent quality about him that would make you stop and take notice.

I first encountered Jason when he taught English at a local high school and was named 'Teacher of the Month." I took his photo along with the students of the month for the local Rotary club.

Here was this tall guy with dark curly hair topped off by a black kippah (or yarmulke, if you like) – not a sight you usually see in a small Southern town.  I thought, "What an interesting young man! How in the world did an Orthodox Jew end up here?" (It's just the journalistic curiosity in me, I suppose.)

Of course, living in the "politically correct, everything can be offensive, so watch what you say" climate we currently abide in, I would never had asked him about his journey to Judaism.  Thinking back, I'll bet Jason would have shared it with me in the blink of an eye, though.

Jason came to our college to head up our Writing Center a couple of years later, and I can count on my hands the times I actually got to talk with him. When I did come into contact with him, I was impressed with his enthusiasm for the job he had taken on.  I sensed that he wanted to help students with navigating the world through the written word, and although I have only read one thing Jason actually wrote, I can guess he would have been good at it.

I took his photo at several events, and actually sat down at a table with a few other folks and had a nice discussion with him one day. The last photo I took of Jason was at a retirement reception for our Foundation director. Jason and a fellow instructor (who happens to be the minister of a local church) and I were making a joke about a Jew, a Catholic and a Baptist walking into a bar. Not so politically correct, but funny to us. Jason had a beautiful smile on his face that day.

He called me at 3 pm that last Friday to inquire about taking a photo at an event he was involved in for the Writing Center at a local church the next day.  None of our staff was available to  go that Saturday, so I did what I could to encourage him to just get someone to snap a photo with his phone. He seemed ok with that, and I told him I would see him Monday- he and I had an appointment for me to interview him about another project he was working on. I was really looking forward to talking with him one on one, and hopefully getting to know him a little better. I could see bright things for Jason, and I wanted to help him along the way if I could.

Jason passed away that evening at his home.  I have not been this devastated over something in a long time. I wish I could have had that time with him on Monday afternoon. I wish I could have gotten to know this interesting young man better. Fellow writers would have had a lot to talk about.

Rest in peace, Jason. You made a big impact on a lot of people.











Monday, October 29, 2018

“Her name is Lauren”

This past weekend, we made a trip to Orange Beach, Ala for our son’s 35th birthday. It was us, our son and daughter-in-law, granddaughters, our son’s mother and father-in-law and our daughter-in-law’s sister. The weather was perfect and we had a wonderful time as a family!

We spent time at the beach relaxing and just bonding as a family. I think Rosie and Vivian had a wonderful time having their whole family together. We usually do not get down to see them at Halloween each year, but there was a Halloween festival nearby and we got to see the girls wear their costumes and trick or treat. That was a treat for us!

Richard and I went to mass in a beautiful church called “St. Thomas by the Sea.” We had some lovely dinners out and last night we celebrated our son’s birthday at a wonderful restaurant and then went back home to open his presents and eat a birthday dessert.

Little Vivian, our two-year-old was toddling around holding her baby doll. I asked her, “What’s your baby’s name, Vivi? She looked right at me and said matter-of-factly, “Her name is Lauren.” Her grandpa and mom and dad and I were completely shocked and humbled. I know she has heard us mention her aunt’s name, and she knows her sister’s middle name is Lauren (named after her aunt and our daughter) but I had no idea it had stuck with her.

I think it must have been a gift for us. I believe God was letting us know our Lauren is still with us. It was the best gift I have had in a long time, and it refreshed my weary soul.

Here are a couple of pictures from our wonderful weekend.
Our Tinkerbell and Wendy Darling


Happy Birthday!

Family!














Thursday, October 4, 2018

That busy time of year


It seems like once school starts back, life becomes a wild roller coaster ride for me. Football season ensues, the girls had their joint birthday party, my birthday comes around and it seems like there is something to do all the time. It can be a bit overwhelming, and can also keep me from taking time to reflect and remember things I don't like to forget for even a moment.

In order to catch up, I picked out a few photos that might show what we've been doing!



Two little birthday girls with their grandparents! 


My wonderful birthday gifts from my kids! 
I took a cool photo of "Danger" our mascot last week. 





















Looks like my home state of S.C., doesn't it?
And last, but not least, we were honored to attend a reception
with our scholarship recipients Kira and Jack. Our Lauren
is remembered every year in this wonderful way!
Two great young people! 

Sunday, August 19, 2018

Upon this rock...

The Catholic world is abuzz these days with the horrible news from the Pennsylvania Grand Jury Report and the allegations about Cardinal Theodore McCarrick. I have read several articles from Catholic news sources regarding these scandals and find myself disheartened along with so many more of the laity.

I am blessed to have several friends who are priests, and to know that they are good men, who are as disturbed and disgusted as I am about what they are learning about some leaders in our church. 

I came into the church as an adult, and I believe it to be the true church that Jesus founded before he ascended into heaven. I am not afraid to admit that, because I know that the church itself is not at fault. I believe that the devil believes the only way to destroy us is from the inside. Without priests, we are unable to participate in the Eucharist, which is the source and summit of our faith. So to destroy the priesthood, will do the trick, won’t it? 

I believe the answer is a resounding “NO!” As a matter of fact, I know that is the answer. I know that for every bad priest, there are 100 good ones. I know that my little church was full at mass this morning, with faithful believers who came to participate in the Eucharist. 


Every morning when I get up, I remember what Jesus said: “And so I say to you, you are Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church, and the gates of the netherworld shall not prevail against it.’

No matter what comes our way, I believe what he said, and that the church will stand. 






Thursday, July 26, 2018

Little Disney girls

Last week we had the pleasure of going on vacation with our little girls to Disneyland and to see family in California and Las Vegas. We had a wonderful time with them and their parents and the little ones were real troopers.

I was able to visit in Downtown Disney with my sweet friend Janell, who I worked with about 36 years ago and have been friends with ever sense. After a wonderful family dinner with my husband's great Aunt Helen, and several cousins on Friday evening, we headed out for two days at Disneyland and California Adventure.

The first morning, we went to the "Character Breakfast" and the girls got to meet some of their favorite Disney characters right off the bat. We rode a lot of rides that day, and took them to see a live "Frozen" show, which they loved. The second day, Rosemary went to the Bippity Boppity Bootique and got a Tinkerbell makeover. It touched me a great deal, as Tinker Bell was Lauren's favorite Disney character. Even though Rosemary did not know that, she was drawn to Tinker Bell after watching "Peter Pan" just like her aunt was as a little one! Vivian was not old enough to do the BBB, but Mimi and Grandpa bought her a Minnie Mouse dress anyway.

We saw the Pixar Parade, and rode as many rides as we could. The girls had a blast and the tired Tallo family drove across the desert to Las Vegas to meet family.

I met my husband's aunt and uncle from Rhode Island for the first time in my 36 years of marriage. They are wonderful folks and we instantly bonded in our Catholic faith. We had a great time and the girls saw most of their relatives. So glad we got to do it.

Here are some pictures from our West Coast adventures. 

Janell and me
Happy Disney Family
My husband and his siblings

Our Tinker Bell and Minnie Mouse




Tuesday, July 3, 2018

Just been out of sorts a bit lately

Getting old is the pits. There I have gone and said it. And not only getting old, but struggling with my new found friend Hashimoto's has made me feel out of sorts for the last few months. I have had hypothyrodism for several years, and have now been diagnosed with Hash'is. I also have another "friend" who causes me a bit of aggravation, and that is my elevated left  hemi-diaphragm.

This whole mess started when I went to a "wellness" visit last December. They saw something on my chest X-Ray that caused them to pull me aside and put me in a room where being frightened out of my wits, I thought I must be dying. I have been to a pulmonologist (lungs are fine) who sent me to a bariatric surgeon, because she was convinced I had a hiatal hernia and my intestines were stuck up in my diaphragm. The bariatric surgeon sent me for some (awful) tests which determined I had no hiatal hernia, but I do have moderate acid reflux (which I knew and was being treated for already). Now the bariatric surgeon has sent me to a thoracic surgeon, who I will see at the beginning of August. He'll talk to me about my elevated diaphragm and what can or cannot be done about it. The diaphragm causes me to be short of breath a lot of the time, and I am even prepared to tell him when I think it happened. In the midst of all of this my endocrinologist is monitoring my thyroid, which has some small nodules on it apparently. And to think, I knew none of this until I went to a wellness visit. SIGH.

I have been trying to keep my head up and ask God for grace, wisdom and understanding (not patience) throughout this whole ordeal. I could be a lot worse off, and I know that. The Hashi's makes me hyper-sensitive at times, where I get my feelings hurt easily or get angry about stupid things very  quickly. One Facebook group I am in has helped me tremendously - I hear other people relate the same things. I am trying to maintain my diet and exercise regimen. I don't get too caught up in all of the different diets and do and don’ts because it stresses me out too much. Since I was diagnosed with Hashi's I have cut back on gluten and carbs, and have lost about 12 lbs. 

Being hypersensitive is not good for grieving mothers. I have cried more in the last 6 months than I have in forever. Most days, I feel like I cannot express myself without making someone mad, or hurting someone's feelings or just feeling like it is the end of the world. I am not depressed, I just feel overly sensitive most of the time. For me, this is really hard, because I have always been sensitive, especially if I thought I hurt someone. I worry about that more than just about anything. I have always hated conflict, and I think I always will. 

I recognize my own ability to overcome that feeling by focusing on the positive, praying and getting up and out of my routine. Walking and praying seems to be a good cure. I think I have prayed the Our Father, Hail Mary and the Fatima Prayer more in the last six months than I ever have. 

I am hoping to get the diaphragm issue resolved one way or the other in August. I'll either get it fixed (if it is not too invasive) or live with it. The Hashi's is here to stay. You just have to manage it. 

"Do not be saddened this day, for rejoicing in the LORD is your strength!”

Monday, June 18, 2018

My tears were for her, too

Father's Day dinner 
We've been a bit distracted for the past couple of weeks with doctor's appointments and a rotator cuff surgery for my husband. I've been trying to take care of him the best I can and work at the same time. He is a real trooper and has been very patient with me, and together we have gotten him back on the road to recovery. He's pretty athletic and very strong and that does help in a situation like this.

The granddaughters have been really concerned that Grandpa (Pacca) is ok and through a couple of FaceTime visits, I think they are reassured that his "boo boo" is getting better.

We went on Saturday to the Baddour Center, a wonderful place in our community. It is a home for adults with special needs. They have a great nursery where we always try to buy flowers to plant around our home each spring. We are a bit behind due to the above-mentioned surgery, so it was great to get over there for some petunias that we put out on Saturday (My husband used his good arm to plant).

Jennifer, a casual friend of mine that I know from our small town, works there in the nursery. She and her husband have a boy and a girl just like us. Their children are a bit younger than ours, so we did not really know them as school friends. I met her several years ago when she worked at a favorite shop of mine. She helped us when my daughter-in -law Anna picked out items for her bridal register in that shop.

She was there on Saturday and came out to help us. She said, "I've been thinking of you guys lately." She went on to tell us that her 28-year-old son had passed away on Thanksgiving last year. I was shocked to my very core. He had only been married for 7 weeks, and he succumbed to a massive heart attack.

My heart shattered for her at that moment. I could see the pain in her eyes. Pain that I know first hand radiated from her. I wept right there in the middle of all of those flowers. My tears were for that young widow, his sister and father and most of all for Jennifer. I know her journey all too well. I had no words to say to comfort her, because there are none.

So I listened to her. Richard and I just listened to her and let her tell us how she was coping and what she was doing, and how things were going. That is all anyone can do. We talked about our experiences and she related that she had just moved to our town and it was her first Sunday at her church the day Lauren died. She told us how many people in that church were openly praying for us. She didn't know us then, but she prayed for us too. I have prayed for her every day since then.

I only had one piece of advice I could give her: "Don't let anyone tell you how to grieve."

That is the worst thing you can do to a parent who has lost a child. Just listen and let them go through the process. Don't tell them it will be ok, because it really won't. Not really, ever again. It is just a new normal. That is all.

Our true comfort comes from God.

Blessed are they who mourn, for they will be comforted. 


To find out more about The Baddour Center visit www.baddour.org

Wednesday, May 16, 2018

A pot full of love

Mother’s Day has come and gone again. We did something a little different this year, and traveled to my son’s house. Our little grand daughter Rosemary had a couple of “programs” that we needed to be there for. Her T.O.T. (Teams of Tomorrow) ball demonstration was on Saturday. She was super cute doing her dribbling and bouncing, and was genuinely happy to get her little trophy.  Sunday, she sang at church with her little choir. Both times, she did great!

She was surrounded by family who love her. I couldn’t help but think how proud Lauren would have been to see Rosie up there, looking like her daddy and participating in these little events.

Both of our girls were precious and we are so blessed to have them in our lives. I pray for them every night and thank God for them every day.

We will plug along as best we can and make the best of the days we have with these girls. Here are some weekend memories and a sweet gift from my girls.







Tuesday, May 8, 2018

A thought for grieving parents as we approach Year 14


Our Lauren will be gone 14 years tomorrow. This time of year is tough for me. She was getting ready to graduate from high school in 2004, and had done all the work for college at Ole Miss. She was so excited to be over there with her brother. But that was not to be. The three of us, her dad, her brother and I suffered that loss together, and still to this day, the pain is always there in our family. We will go to our son's house this weekend and celebrate Mother's Day with our little grand daughters who never had the chance to meet their lovely aunt, but she will be present in my heart and in my thoughts, as she always is. 

The song, "I love you more today than yesterday, but not as much as tomorrow" has been my theme song these past few days. 

Rest well, my sweet girl, and know that your mama remembers and loves you every minute of every day. 



Friday, April 27, 2018

The hope that we cling to

When First Lady Barbara Pierce Bush passed away, many of those who remembered this gracious lady were saddened for her husband and the rest of their big family. Mrs. Bush was a personal hero of mine. I admired her wittiness, her devotion to her family and her fierce support of her husband. She truly embodied what I always thought a wife and mother should be.

“Never lose sight of the fact that the most important yardstick of your success will be how you treat other people - your family, friends, and coworkers, and even strangers you meet along the way,” she once said. I fall short of this every day, but I try. I equate this with the kind of love we as Christians are supposed to exhibit. 

While Mrs. Bush could wax philosophical, she could also get straight to the point: “People who worry about their hair all the time, frankly, are boring.” A lady after my own heart. 

She and I had something in common that made me look up to her and I will venture to say to love her. She knew what it was to lose a child. She faced the same struggles that I and other grieving parents have faced. She never forgot her Robin- all of the fame, fortune and political success could not change the love she had for her little girl and the grief that she lived with from that loss. 

A wonderful cartoonist here in Mississippi, Marshall Ramsey, has captured the hope that we as grieving parents feel - the hope that we will be reunited with our beloved children. I have had the honor to meet Marshall and to hear him speak at a couple of events I have been at. He has a penchant for getting to the heart of the matter. His cartoons capture things right where they are. 

This particular cartoon has gone viral, and even members of Mrs. Bush’s family have seen it and commented on it, thanks to social media. So kudos to you, Marshall! And thank you. 



Wednesday, April 4, 2018

The things that are seemingly insignificant can be the worst

Last week, my husband and I went to buy a new washer and dryer, since our washer had gone kaput.

We were driving around and we drove by the  the Old Navy where Lauren had gone that last week. It was a weird thing. She had a little job and wanted to go and buy some things for the summer. I offered to go with her and she said that was ok, she just wanted to go alone. That hurt me a little then, because my girl was growing up, but if someone had shot me in the heart with an arrow the other day when I saw that Old Navy, it would not have hurt any less than the pain I felt right at that moment.

It's crazy how something that insignificant can tear your heart into, even after all these years. I feel like I keep repeating this over and over on this blog, but I feel like it is a way for people to understand the pain that losing your child can bring.

It is unlike any pain we might endure - labor pain, losing your parents and/or siblings, having a cut finger, having someone deceive you, losing in love... It seems none of that compares to this, in my mind.

It's a sharp pain, that causes you to double over, like your heart has broken literally. The tears jump to your eyes, and you cannot breathe. The worst part is, you know other people never understand it. They think you should be better by now. Not gonna happen, I guess.

What to do? I hang on to my faith for dear life. I try to keep my head up. I think of my son, daughter-in- law and my grandchildren, and how blessed I am to have them. I think of how I may be hurting my husband when I fall apart. I chastise myself for not being stronger. All of that happens in a matter of seconds.

It is coming on to May, and this year it will be 14 years. 14 years of pain. It is almost too hard to bear sometimes.

I will not give up, though. That pain means she is still in my heart and with me all the time.  I will embrace it, as surely as I would embrace her if she were here. I will love her dad and her brother and his family like she would have. I can do that for her, and for myself.









Monday, March 19, 2018

Mini-pilgrimage to the Shrine of the Most Blessed Sacrament

Last week, my husband Richard and I went to a place I have wanted to go to for years. The Shrine of the Most Blessed Sacrament in Hanceville, Alabama is a beautiful place that was built by Mother Angelica (founder of EWTN) and is located next to the Monastery of the Poor Clare Nuns of Perpetual Adoration. If you can, look up the website or Facebook page. Richard and I had a wonderful and peaceful time at this lovely place. 
There is a wonderful gift shop, and a lovely chapel called the "Creche" that tells the story of the Nativity. 

You forget you are in Alabama, or even in the U.S. It really made Richard and me want to go back to Rome. 























What's in a name?

We just spent four days of my Spring Break in Birmingham with my son and his family.

One of their favorite things is when we come to daycare to pick them up. They will run across the room to greet us when they notice we are there, looks of pure joy on their faces. It is one of our favorite moments, too.

We took care of the little girls on Thursday, and had the joy of taking Rosemary to her little dance class.

Friday, Grandpa and I went on a mini-pilgrimage to the Shrine of the Most Blessed Sacrament in Hanceville, Ala. (See post) We picked the girls up that evening from daycare, too. On Saturday, the whole family went to the Botanical Gardens for the Cherry Blossom Festival

Vivian, our 19-month-old, is taking in everything, and learning to communicate in her own little way. (This was always one of my most treasured times of my children's lives. I am enjoying this time in my grandchildren's lives too.)

When Rosie was about this age, her name for Grandpa was "GanCa." (the c is pronounced like k) She always lumped my husband and me into one name "MimiGanCa" or sometimes "GanCaMimi." (She occasionally still does that, even though she can clearly say "Grandpa" now.)

My daughter-in-law tells me she did the same thing with her other grandparents, too. Paul and Sharon ended up being "PawPawGramma" or "GrammaPawPaw."

And Rosie always said, "I hold you, Mimi"  when she wanted me to pick her up. She would make that request of whomever she wanted to hold her.  She still, at 3 years old, will use that terminology from time to time.

Vivan has not done either of those things yet. She has been saying "Mimi" for a few months now. She has given her grandpa his name as of this past week. He is "Pa-Ca." (the c is pronounced like k) She is such a loving little girl. She comes up to Pa-Ca and grabs him around the leg just to hug him. She calls me and holds up her little arms for me to take her. (Rosie did that too). Viv loves for you to hold her.

Our new names as grandparents (whatever they may be from time to time) are the best names that we could ever have. I told their mom that next to being a mother, being a grandmother is the best job I have ever had. Those two jobs are my most favorite jobs.






Sunday, February 25, 2018

My big baby girl

President’s Day was a long weekend for us so we went to visit the grand babies and their parents. (You notice I am thinking more and more like a grandparent.)

Anyway, visiting with them always does our hearts good, and this time Rosemary (our 3 year old) was not feeling great, and was struggling with a little cold, but other than that, all was well.

I started to realize just how grown up Rosie is. I feel like sometimes I am a little behind in realizing how they are maturing. Vivian is in that stage where she loves to hang on to me. When we got to their day care, I waved at her through the window in the door, and she nearly broke her neck getting to me. She got in my arms, laid her little head on my shoulder and did not move all through us going to the gym where Rosie was playing, visiting Rosie’s class for a “tour” and getting to the car. She wasn’t asleep, she just wanted Mimi to hold her.

Rosie, on the other hand, is Miss Independent right now. I used to be sad that she didn’t ask to be held or come up and hug me all the time like she did when she was smaller, but once I relaxed, she came to me on her own time. She gave me a hug and kiss when we got there, but she is her own little person and likes to be independent. She is dressing herself, and putting on her own shoes. I am so proud of her.

Now if I am sitting on the couch, Rosie will come up and climb onto my lap while watching TV. She wants to be close to me I think, but when she wants to. I love that she is growing and maturing, but I will always miss her being my first grand baby.

She is so sweet, that when she brought down her own little dress up costume from her closet, she thought to bring one for her sister too. When they changed costumes the next day, Vivian ran out and got her own.

She really does show an incredible amount of patience with her baby sister  to only be 3 herself.

I’m going to do with these two what I TRIED to do with my own: Enjoy all of their phases!





Wednesday, February 7, 2018

Mothering my way

Late last year I wrote about the "purple flowers" incident, when I did not get flowers for Lauren for Advent. This time I made sure I got them for Lent. My dilemma was what to do for January. The weather had been so bad that I left her Christmas flowers on her grave way past Epiphany, and then a third of the month was gone. 

I went to the store to get her flowers and decided that I would get pink roses and Valentine's stuff since Lent begins on Valentine's Day this year (thanks, Year B).  I will keep the Valentine's stuff on there and then switch to my purple Lent flowers for March. (I better get to the store for Easter Lilies pretty soon, I guess.) 

It seems a trifle to other people I am sure, when I worry about what is on her grave. But for me it is really important. One of her friends once told me that this was my way of "mothering" her. I guess that is right. The thought of her grave having no flowers on it to show our love and how much we miss her is really distressing to me. So as long as I am physically and mentally able, I will go there and "mother" her in this way. 

I will also try to "mother" (honor) her by being a good wife to her father, a good mother to her brother, a good mother-in-law to her sister-in-law and a good grandmother to her nieces. I'll try to be there when her scholarship recipients are honored, so that she can be remembered. 



New pink flowers for Valentine's Day took the place of the old Christmas ones. As my daughter-in-law said, "Days are long, but years are fast." One day when I can no longer bring her flowers, I hope I will be with her instead. 

Prayer request: Three teenagers were killed over the weekend in my home county in South Carolina. I would ask for prayers for their families and friends, and most especially their parents. 
Prayers for Charner, Krislyn and Hunter. 

Eternal rest, grant unto them, O Lord
and let perpetual light shine upon them.

May they rest in peace. Amen.

May their souls and the souls of all the faithful departed,
through the mercy of God, rest in peace.
Amen.