Gone

I have found myself to be in a "hunkering down" kind of mood this week. I think the reality of the finality has finally hit me. I am only responsible for myself, Kirk, and the kids at this point in my life, after many years of considering my parents and their needs, and it is a weird feeling. I'm not sure what to do with it or myself.

I spent the last three days going through paperwork and photographs that I brought home from Dad's over the course of the last few months. There are family tree things, cards, letters, First Communion certificates, military papers, etc. I had several filled laundry baskets that had been sitting in our room for months now waiting until I had time to sort through them, which I finally did this week.

It was almost surreal to read postcards from my grandfather (dead 52 years now) to my dad (also dead) written when my dad was a little boy in 1937. There were pictures of my grandfather's family, the corners of the photos snug in the little black triangles in an album, taken in 1909 before he had even met my grandmother. Then as I flipped through the pages, I began to see her smiling face, a young woman in a new country being courted by a handsome Irishman. There were pictures taken at Rockaway Beach but no names to identify the folks posing for the camera on the wooden steps of a beach house. I could pick out my grandpa but I have no idea who the others were.

I found notes left by Dad for Mom telling her that he'd gone to the store and would be back in an hour and that he loved her. There was a note from me to Mom one day in 1974. I was mad at her because she wouldn't let me wear shorts in March, and the note was complaining that everyone else would be wearing shorts except me, and I would have to wear long "pance."

I found an engagement card to my mom from my dad's Aunt Josephine. She was kind to my mom, and I wish I remembered her better. There was a copy of my grandma's will and a letter from Aunt Nanette explaining her side of the event that has estranged her from her sister Marie since 1980. There was a letter from Marie to Dad that started out sweet and then ended up hateful and cruel, full of the crazy that has caused such strife in the Fitzpatrick family for decades.

I read letters from me to Dad and from Kirk to Dad. There was a letter I wrote when I was at summer camp in the 6th grade. It's the same camp Kyle went to when he was in the 6th grade. There were cards with zigzag scratches for signatures and "love, Sharron" or "love, Kyle" written in cursive underneath.

The paperwork for the sale of Granny's house was in a folder along with pictures of the many Christmas Eves we celebrated there. Faces long dead stared out at me from the 4 X4 black and white photograph, and I remembered the fun we had in that 4 room house, the front door propped open to let in some air because it got so hot that steam ran in rivulets down the windows in the family room.

I wondered what was it about this card or this note that made it special enough to be saved for so long. What was Mom thinking? Dad? And if they had saved them, then shouldn't I?

All of this washed over me this week; all of these memories and connections, and the reality that everything and everyone is GONE was just too overwhelming. I retreated into my "safe spot" where I can function without thinking too much and didn't come near the computer except to read. I was afraid if I started typing, I wouldn't be able to stop and all of my sadness would just come flowing out.

I finally went to my parents' grave yesterday. I haven't been since the day we buried Dad. I took a rock that has a shamrock on it and says, "Irish Blessings." I looked for and found my grandparents' grave as well. I visit Granny and Grandpa's grave whenever I go to the cemetery, but I've never been able to find Mimi and Poppy's. I stopped in the office and asked for explicit directions and finally, after over 30 years, I found theirs too. I needed to connect with them in someway, and that was as close as I was going to get. It was good, and I'm glad I found them. I saw Uncle Bob's grave and reflected there too.

I have never felt so alone as I do now. It is a sad and lonesome feeling, and I'm not sure what to do with myself.

Because I Said So

"Wach mom I'll be the only one on the street with long pance on Wendy will have them on every one will have them on except me.
To you mom From Sharron"
March, 1974 It was warm and Sharron wanted to put shorts on.


I found this note I had written to my mom almost 40 years ago in a box of papers I'd been going through. It struck me for several reasons. First, I thought it was sweet that my mom had been amused enough by it to keep it, date it, and explain why I was mad. Then I remembered the time (maybe not this time because this happened a lot) when it was warm outside on a spring day, and my mom wouldn't let me wear shorts. My best friend, Wendy, got to wear them. Our other friend, Bert, got to wear them. I could wear a tee shirt and go without a coat, but I had to wear long "pance." When I'd press my mom for a reason, she'd say something like, "Because it's March, and you can't wear shorts in March." If I would keep on pressing long enough to cross the line, she'd look me in the eye and say, "Because I said so." That was it. End of story. No more arguing. I'd hang my head in defeat and accept the reality that someone else besides me was in charge, and I had to let it go.

It used to drive me crazy. I hated the reasoning behind, "Because I said so..." I didn't make sense.

"But WHY do you you say so? Why can't I..."

"Because I said so," would be the reply. Again, end of discussion.

And I vowed when I was a parent that I would never use that as a reason why one of my children couldn't do something. I read parenting books out the wazoo that said, "Give your child a reasonable answer for your decision, and he will accept it better than the old 'because I said so' reason." Made sense to me, I thought. That's how I am going to parent. Not necessarily better, just different.

So when my children would ask if they could do something like ride their bikes in the street without a helmet or use a ladder to climb a tree, I'd sit them down and explain, "Because it's not safe. What if you are riding your bike and a car comes along and doesn't see you?" or "Because if you need a ladder to get started climbing a tree, then it's too high for you to be climbing." It seemed to work for most everything. Occasionally, I would get the, "But why?" and I'd explain again in more detail. And I'll admit that a few times I resorted to, "Because I said so." But those were usually few and far between and when I was particularly stressed out or didn't have time for a lengthy explanation.

Yes, reasoning worked like a charm. Until the kids hit their teenage years and started developing their higher order thinking skills and the ability to turn anything into a debate.

"No, you may not ride in a car with your friend who just got his license...Yes, I'm sure he's a good driver...He's never had an accident? Well I hope not. He's only had his license for 3 months!...No, you can't just drive with him to Taco Bell...I know it's not that far...I'm sure he'll only go the speed limit and use his blinkers and come to a complete stop at each red light. You still can't do it...Stop arguing with me. You cannot ride with him...Because I said so."

"You may go to the movies on Friday, but I am going along. I won't go to the same movie as you, but I'm going to be in the theater...Why? Because I love you, and it's not a safe place for a 12 year old girl to be at night without a grown up present...I don't care if your friends live nearby and do it all the time. You are not your friends...No, you can't walk to your friend's house after to the show...There is a nightclub in that mall and a lot of drug use nearby...I'm sorry that you feel that way, but these are your options: Either I stay at the theater and bring you home after or you don't go...Because I said so."

I am beginning to see the wisdom in my parents' parenting. "Because I said so" works. Yes, my kids get mad when I use it. I got mad when my mom used it. I totally get it. "Because I said so," means, "That's It. No more arguing. You are not going to change my mind. " And that sucks when you are a teenager and trying to look cool and exert your independence. Oh well. Sometimes you don't get your way. Sometimes you don't know best. Sometimes you just have to be the only one who doesn't get to do something.

Because I said so.