Tuesday, October 17, 2017


The memories are bombarding me faster than I can put them on paper. Some I haven't thought about in years and others I've thought about recently. Some vivid, others fading. Bits and pieces of my life that were held together by one common thread...my mother. Now that she's gone I'm horrified the memories will fade with her. Realistically I know they won't but my mind is so overloaded right now.

We lived in Bremen, Georgia for a short four years when I was a kid. I was four years old when we moved there. I have blogged about the house before. My paternal grandparents purchased and moved into it when we moved. They lived there the rest of my childhood and all of my adulthood.  So the house holds many special memories for me. The house sat on five acres and was across the street from railroad tracks. Back in the 70's there wasn't anything close but Interstate 20, a Holiday Inn and tank farms. My parents also owned some land down the road on which they grew corn. My mother would take me into "town" to shop. There was a children's store in downtown Bremen that the Tarpleys owned. That's where she bought my clothes. When I decided I wanted to take piano lessons she had to drive me to Carrollton which was the next town over. When I decided I wanted to take gymnastics she drove me to Carrollton. We went to the drive-in movies in Carrollton. I saw Grease at that drive-in. Pretty much if we wanted to do anything we drove to Carrollton.  Just on the other side of downtown Bremen there was a hotel named Green Acres that served the best fried chicken. My mother loved to eat there. I know the hotel is still there but that's all I really know about the place now.  I drove through Bremen not that terribly long ago and while a lot has changed a lot has stayed the same.

Summers in Bremen were long and hot. But we lived on a foothill so there was always a breeze. I would swing and play while daddy was at work. In the evenings my little brother (who was born after we moved there in 1976) and I would play in the dirt while mother and daddy would tend their garden. We would get so dirty that mother wouldn't let us go in the house. And, because we literally lived in the middle of nowhere she would bathe us in the backyard. She would grab a bar of soap, shampoo and the water hose. All the bath time necessities! Oh, life in the country.  Mother loved to work in the yard. I remember she would get on the riding lawn mower and use a towel or a twin sheet to wrap my brother around her so he could sleep while she cut grass. Who knew her make shift baby wrap would be fashion today!?!

My parents would have a big hay ride in the Fall. The festivities would last all weekend. Friends and family would come from everywhere. There would be campers in our front yard and people in the house. The more the merrier. My mother was the best hostess. She would cook and make everyone feel at home. Daddy had a long flatbed trailer he would put the hay on and everyone would pile on and he would pull us to the property they owned down the road. That was back in the day when living on a country road meant you could ride in the back of a pickup or on a trailer without worry.  Once we would get to the property, the men would build a huge bonfire. The women would pull out food. Everyone would eat and at some point in the night the guitars would come out and the singing would start. 

Christmas there was always magical. Our house was very old so it had 14 foot ceilings. Mother always got a 12 foot tree for the den. While 12 feet is tall by any standard to a little kid it is absolutely enormous. On Christmas morning I always woke up to the smell of breakfast cooking and sounds of music playing. Not Christmas music though. It was either Captain and Tennille, The Statler Brothers, Sam Cooke or some other (what we call Oldies now) artist my mother liked. If I close my eyes I can see her in her favorite night gown standing at the stove. 

Friday, October 13, 2017

Vast Sea of Emotion

Monday will be two weeks since my mother passed away. I never thought I could feel so many emotions in such a short span of time. I have laughed, cried, been angry, felt nostalgic and felt nothing at all. I know about the 5 stages of grief. I guess that is what I'm experiencing. But, feeling like a crazy person has me riding a roller coaster on which I really don't want to ride.

There have been moments of laughter. Ah...laughter. My mother loved to laugh. My family has a bit of a dark sense of humor so many would think us awful if they overheard some of the things we have found funny in this situation (and there is no way I will put them all out there for the world to read.) However, I will provide a couple of examples.  So, when my parents chose their mausoleum location years ago, my mother told me she had chosen "heart" level. Her rationale? So I could fling myself in unbearable grief against the wall to mourn her passing and she would be at my heart. Thus, when I went to the cemetery to visit her the first time, I flung myself against the wall and audibly said "you got your way Mother." But, I found it hysterically funny because I could hear her saying "yep, I sure did get my way, like always!" OR, on the night before her visitation we were eating at her house with Daddy. Allison and I had not eaten at her house since she moved back from Georgia a few years ago. We both made mention of that fact. Then, without skipping a beat Allison said "she's in heaven right now saying...great, I had to die to get you to come eat at my house." We howled because that is exactly something she would say. 

I have cried to the point I was sure there wasn't a tear left in me. But more would come. I have cried wondering how we are all supposed to go on without her. I have cried thinking of her absence for the upcoming holidays. I have simply cried for no reason at all.  Seeing her things causes the deepest sense of despair. Not for materialistic reasons but because the plates in her kitchen are the same plates I ate on as a child (yes, they are complete with harvest gold, avocado green and burnt orange fruit in the center). The china in her china cabinet is the same china she used for special occasions most of my life. She loved a pretty home. She was extremely organized and neat. Her things made her house a home. The daunting task of cleaning out her closet is before me.  It may have to wait a minute.

In the days following her death, I found myself angry at everyone who was just going about their lives as if nothing had happened. How dare total strangers continue with their day! Did they not realize the world had lost my mother? Did they not realize the world was supposed to grieve her loss?  Logically, I knew that's not how it goes. But emotionally, I felt everything should just stop (if only for a moment). 

I have felt nostalgic for my childhood. Missing the mother I knew as a little girl. The mother who was my everything. The mother who could fix all the wrongs in my tiny world. The mother that knew exactly what to do in any situation.  Remembering playing in the garden while she and Daddy would tend it. Remembering her putting my hair in a ponytail so tight my eyes would slant. Remembering her teaching me how to twirl my first baton. Remembering her teaching me to cook and take care of a home. 

And then, there's been nothing. A numbness that is almost painful. Not being able to laugh, cry or be mad. Just nothing...

 I have experienced all of these in a second or over the course of a day/days. However, in spite of grief, life continues. As shall I, one moment at a time.

Sunday, October 8, 2017

Until we meet again...

Monday, October 2, 2017 was to be like any other Monday. Go to work, come home, make dinner and tackle whatever the day may bring in between. However, that Monday would turn out to be nothing like a regular day. During the night I learned of the horrific shooting in Las Vegas. Many killed and many more wounded. As daylight entered, the news stirred with assumptions, facts and conclusions. But still, it was just another Monday for me. Time to get dressed and go to the office. Went to work, got a few things done and headed home. When I got home Chris was busy getting ready to run an errand. While chatting with Chris and reading social media,  I learned of Tom Petty's cardiac arrest and (at the time) his death. Shock and disbelief that such an icon was gone overcame me. My childhood musical favorites are slowly leaving us. Yet, once more, it was still just another Monday. Until...

At approximately 4pm I received a phone call I will never forget. That phone call would make all of the sadness and tragedy in the world pale in comparison to the emotions I was about to experience. My daddy called and said to me "your mother has died." Wait, not my mother. Surely he was mistaken, confused or pulling a terrible prank. My mother is only 66 years old. She's to young to pass. He has to be wrong. I jumped in the car and raced to their house. Hoping above all hope that this gut wrenching news was not true. However, as I topped the hill to their home and rounded the corner, I saw two emergency personnel standing in their front yard. I knew by the look on their faces that the unthinkable had happened. I rushed into the house to find my sobbing father standing in the kitchen with a police officer. Daddy pointed towards his bedroom. I immediately walked in to see another member of emergency personnel standing by the bed with the most somber of expressions. Then, I looked. There she laid, motionless and quiet. She appeared to simply be in a deep restful sleep. At the same time, she looked so small and frail. Indeed, the woman who had birthed and raised me was gone.

Unless you have experienced the loss of a parent, I cannot express in words the thoughts that race through your mind in a millisecond. As I stroked her hair, my entire life with her flashed before my eyes. Every single emotion I had ever felt for or with my mother was occurring at once. Then, I guess out of emotional self-defense I simply went numb. Survival mode kicked in and I began to make phone calls. First to Chris, then to my girls and afterward to family and friends. The rolodex in my head was spinning with "who do I need to call?" It is the most surreal thing to say the words "mother has passed away." How do I comfort the person on the other end of that call when I don't exactly know what I'm feeling myself?

The last few days have been a blur. Friends and family have rallied and been wonderful. But life has to get back to some type of normal. A new normal. In the days ahead there will be all the "firsts." Thanksgiving, her birthday in December, Christmas, Mother's Day and every single one will be a little less bright without her. 

My mother was a force of nature. She was always the center of attention in a crowd. She was a fantastic cook, kept an immaculate house and would give you the shirt off her back. She was demanding and critical but she loved with every ounce of her soul. She could tell you off and tell you she loved you in the same conversation. She was strong-willed and pushed everyone around her to be a better version of themself. She loved music and was always singing. She loved people.

Now, it seems I find the most comfort and peace sitting at her grave. Strange as it may sound, I feel close to her there. I know she's in heaven where there is no pain, suffering or sadness. I also know I will see her there one day.  But, for now, I have to find a way to live in a world that is a little less without her. 

Until we meet again...Mother, I love you, 

Your sweet baby girl

Friday, June 23, 2017

You are never to old to dream a new dream

As many know, I embarked on a new professional journey a few months back. I traded doing work as a mortgage/foreclosure/evictions litigation paralegal for a real estate license. It's funny how events unfold and you don't realize until much later, those events had to take place in order for you to excel in ways you hadn't imagined. While I am still growing a business, I am the happiest I have been in years. I have worked for and with some really wonderful attorneys over the years. And, I have worked for and with some really not so wonderful attorneys. Sometimes, knowing when to say enough is enough is the most difficult part of taking a leap of faith. My husband likes to talk about never having a Plan B. He says if you have a Plan B, you will inevitably fall back on it. He is right about that on so many levels. In my case, the decision to have a Plan B was the right choice and now that it is Plan A I am excited for the challenge.

You are never to old to dream a new dream....

Sunday, May 1, 2016

Things I think about late at night...

I spent the day cleaning deck furniture and helping my oldest daughter move into her new home. After a long, exhausting day one would think I would go right to bed and sleep. Oh, but no. My body is tired but my brain is not. Therefore, I have been laying on the couch for the last couple of hours just listening to music. In light if the recent death of one of my all time favorite artists, Prince, I decided to pull out the iPod and let my thoughts drift. Two hours later after listening to Prince's Greatest Hits, Fleetwood Mac's Greatest Hits and Elton John's Number Ones, I am evermore convinced good music is mostly dead. Real artists actually playing an instrument and singing, all without the aid of autotune. By no means am I an expert or am I what I would describe as a music sob (the description of which is for a later blog). However, I recognize that just because an artist may sound great recorded that same artist may not sound so great live. The true musicians I love so much can do just that...perform live and sound as good as their recordings. While I do not discredit all of today's artists I miss the music that was. And by "was", I mean the music I was raised hearing. My parents' music, my early music and that which truly moves me. 



Tuesday, March 17, 2015

My life...

The last few months have been absolutely wonderful. I have had the rare opportunity of having Chris off the road and mostly home.  Life has been, by my definition, "normal".  I hadn't really given much thought to this fact until recently. I guess because it has been a while since he has had to leave. We have settled into a routine of sorts. But, last week I had the opportunity to drop him off to meet the band bus here in Birmingham. As I drove away, the familiar feeling of "I'm alone" returned. Though he was only going to be gone for a day I became very aware that tour season is about to be in full swing. I'm not complaining. I knew when I married Chris that he was a touring musician. It thrills me that he loves what he does for a living. So many of us are trapped in jobs that we hate. But, very soon, I will be relying on dear friends and family to be there when he cannot. Luckily, I have some pretty fantastic friends and family. It helps tremendously to live in the community where we both grew up. We have a great support system. So, to my friends reading this....be prepared! You're about to be back on speed dial. Just remember that you love me! :)

Monday, May 26, 2014

Unplanned Encounters.....

Last week Chris and I went to Wal-Mart to pick up a few grocery items. Little did we know that what seemed to be a quick errand would profoundly change the way I view life. As I said, we only had a few items to get. One of which was coffee creamer. We approached the dairy isle and there was a lady standing there making her choice. As she browsed the selection we patiently waited. After she had decided what she wanted, she turned and saw that we were standing there and gave a small smile. She appeared to walk away. However, as Chris reached into the dairy case to get the coffee creamer that he likes, we hear "why would you buy that one? It's a dollar more than the other brand." The lady we had been waiting to move was questioning Chris' choice. This exchange started what would be nearly an hour long conversation. Normally, I would have found a polite way to move along to get back to my shopping but on this particular day something stopped me. This sweet lady told us how the store brand bread is the same bread but in different packaging than a particular name brand. She also told us that the store brand milk was the same milk as that packaged by the name brand milk company.  I'm not sure how but the conversation went from discussing the price of food to how she came to live in Alabama. It was very clear that she was from Massachusetts. Her accent was undeniable. She began to tell us about a dance her mother forced her to attend as a young girl. It appears that she met her future husband at that dance. He was in the military during WWII. What was so fascinating about her story was that she was recalling every detail as if it happened only yesterday. She had a twinkle in her eye and the way she spoke of her husband made impossible any doubt that she truly loved this man. As she is telling this story I was quickly doing the math in my head
and coming to the conclusion that this lady is well into her 80's. Upon this realization, I became even more intrigued by her sharpness, sass and vivaciousness. Yet, there seemed to be a deep loneliness. As our conversation continued, it became apparent that her beloved husband had passed away. Though she spoke fondly of her grown children there was an obvious unspoken emptiness her husband once filled. There were many more stories and I enjoyed every one. Listening to this lady talk about her life reminded me of how short life truly is and how we only have a short time to make it everything it has the potential to be.   One day I will be that lady. How do I want to reflect on my life? How do I want to tell my story to strangers in Wal-Mart? I hope it's with a twinkle in my eye, sharpness, sass and vivaciousness.