pray. - Frosted Flakes, Thanksgiving, & Alleys - Oh My!

Thanksgiving 2015
Everytime I walk down the cereal aisle in the grocery store, Tony the Tiger puts a grin on my face - after all Frosted Flakes are GRRREAAT! Frosted Flakes are by far my most favorite cereal - and that milk once all the frosted has oozed in, oh so delicious! Well, as I was putting my bowl in the sink tonight, after my first bowl of Frosted Flakes in years, my heart smiled a little, and I remembered my dad (Frosted Flakes were his favorite too), which led me down the hallway, into our guest room, to a little silver box that smells like moth balls. Inside this silver box are letters and cards and poems and pictures that I haven't been able to part with over the years. Inside this box are letters from my grandmother (We were pen pals from elementary school to my early college days.) letters and cards from friends, a Christmas card from my oldest sister - which is the only thing I have of her's - some letters from my mom, and a letter to my mom from my dad. This little silver box contains some very special pieces of paper.

 Two Thanksgivings ago, Matt & I drove to North Georgia to meet my Aunt Lynn & Uncle Rod for lunch. They were bringing my Mom and Pop with them. Mom (the pen pal grandma) and Pop are my dad's parents. Matt had never met any of my Alley family before, and I was really looking forward to the meeting - after all we had been together five years, and that's one side of me he didn't really know - I hadn't seen my grandparents in about ten years. I think the last time I had seen them was at my sister's funeral - not exactly a happy time to catch up. I had been anticipating this meeting for a few weeks, and my stomach was in knots. My Aunt Liz had been in touch with me through Facebook and had informed me about my grandparents' health. Not only was their health declining, but their minds and memories were too. The news hit me really hard.

 You see, my relationship with my dad's family has been a distant one. It's really no one's fault; it just wasn't very convenient after my dad died. They lived several hours away from Macon, and over time lives got busy and we kind of drifted apart. If Mom and I had not been pen pals over the years, I'm afraid I would've lost all connection with them. Mom was a poet and a writer. She was fantastic at it. I loved walking into her basement and seeing the hundred 6" binders bursting at the seams with poems she had written. I admired Mom and her passion for writing, and I guess that's why we wrote letters to each for ten plus years. That penmanship between the two of us meant the world to me, and it still does. So, when my Aunt Liz told me Mom's health was declining, as was her memory, my heart broke, because all I could think about it is how she may not be able to write anymore. Not to mention, I was terrified she wouldn't remember me. 

 Thanksgiving Day, we arrived at Dillard House early and took time to admire the farm animals. My heart pounding the entire time and butterflies flapped uncontrollably in my stomach. Eventually, we went to ask about the reservations, and I recognized Uncle Rod's daughter. We were both teenagers when we had seen each other last. The wait staff seated us and somewhat awkwardly we waited for the rest of the family. 

 As Aunt Lynn and Uncle Rod brought Mom and Pop through the dining room, I was overcome with emotion. They were so old and frail and fragile. Pop was in a wheelchair and Mom was being escorted on Aunt Lynn's arm. The last time I had seen them, they were still so independent and vivacious. How had time slipped away like this? I just knew they wouldn't remember me, and they'd feel like they were having Thanksgiving dinner with two strangers. When Mom looked at me and smiled, I knew she remembered me and as hard as I tried to fight back the tears I couldn't. They streamed down my face as Uncle Rod told me to stop crying for it was a happy day. He was right - but his matter of factness didn't cease my tears. As for Pop, Aunt Lynn whispered to him who I was, and when she did I saw it in his face too. He remembered. I wasn't as far removed as I thought. 

 Mom grabbed my hand and just held it. I introduced her to Matt, and she told me how handsome she thought he was. She even asked me if he was the boy I had written her about several years prior, which meant she remembered so much more than I ever anticipated. Our pen pal bond was stronger than I had imagined. 

 It was nice sitting at a table with my Alley family, with a part of myself I knew very little about but longed to get to know. As I looked at my dad's sister and his parents, I noticed features about them that I saw in myself and never really knew where they came from, and what made it even better was Matt got to see it too. In my heart, the simple act of having Thanksgiving dinner with family, was a very intimate moment that I'll never forget. It was like the frosted, sweet milk at the end of my Frosted Flakes.

 I have not seen my Alley family since that Thanksgiving. Again, it is no one person's fault. Thankfully, my Aunt Liz is a Facebooker as well as several of my cousins whom I used to attend Vacation Bible School with every summer. We argued and fought the entire time, but loved one another so much. The coolest thing is my Aunt Liz started a blog a few months ago, not knowing I had one too. I've loved reading it, because it has connected me to the Alley family far more than she could ever know. I see so much of myself in many of the blogs she writes and suddenly parts of me that I always wondered about are making sense. I've recognized parts of my dad all my life, but now I recognize the Alley inside of me. I am an Alley, and those Alley's may be a little wild and crazy and have a little redneck temper, but they're GRRREAAT!
Nan
Written by: Shannon Alley

From the day that you were born,
you were "Daddy's Little Girl"
You made him proud and happy 
and brightened all his world!
He told me all about you.
All he wanted you to be.
You meant as much to him
 as he always meant to me.
I want to share your life with you,
You make my feelings soar, 
For everytime I'm with you, 
I love you even more.
I will always guide you
the very best I can.
And we will feel his presence
as if he's holding out his hands.
He will see your hand in mine,
and I know he will smile.
As we walk together,
his mother and his child.

The letter my dad wrote to my mom, & the rose that inspired the foot tattoo.

The tattoo


                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              

Comments

Post a Comment

Most Popular Posts

teach. pray. - Dear Betsy DeVos

Dear Betsy DeVos, Congratulations on your victory. You have been handed a huge responsibility. Your mammoth contributions may have won you the title of Secretary of Education, but I promise, you have not won the battle - not by a long shot. As a matter of fact, I'm quite certain the current administration and yourself have underestimated the fight public education school teachers have within themselves when they feel a threat to "their kids." I've been a special education teacher in public schools for eight years. I have always taught in title 1 schools. I'm not sure you know what title 1 schools are, so let me break it down for you. Title 1 schools are given federal funds in order to serve a large low-income student population. These funds are used toward technology, books for students, extra faculty to reduce class sizes, basic school supplies, programs that enhance student growth and achievement, professional development opportunities for teachers, individu...
Read more

pray. - Forgiveness

Kim Bearden touched my heart the day I visited Ron Clark Academy with my colleagues. I sat in a classroom with at least 75 other adults and fought back tears, because I was embarrassed to cry, however, I really really wanted to. She spoke very vulnerably to a room of educators about some personal challenges and how those challenges brought her to where she is today. Her story resonated with me that particular day and even more so today. It has been floating around in my heart for awhile, and I've been wanting to write about it, but the time just didn't seem right - until now. She walked in circles on stage - front and center - and spilled some deep life lessons. She knows all too well that raw emotion of disappointment and heartache and pain and rage. She knows all too well how arduous it is to hold your shit together for everyone else's well being - when all you want to do is mourn and weep and pulverize life's problems. As she was telling her intense dramatic life...
Read more

run. pray. - Grieve & Then Soar

Let me start with a quick recap:  About five years ago, I started having chronic lower back and hip pain. Last year, it was at it's worst. There were days I could hardly walk. I blamed it on exercise and my running form (which definitely didn't help at all). After several years of chiropractic care, several visits to an orthopedic doctor and sports orthopedic doctor, physical therapy, massage therapy, and a running coach, things started to look up. I was having minimal pain in my lower back and hips for awhile - until it started again (much less invasive pain this time around). Without the help of my chiropractor and running coach, I wouldn't be running today. To them, I owe my deepest, most heartfelt gratitude. I promise I'm going somewhere with all this gibber jabber... For those of you who have been reading from the beginning, you know the past twelve months have not been the healthiest twelve months of my life. Last March, I was lucky enough to experience both...
Read more