How do you say goodbye?

We got home on Monday night, and first thing Tuesday morning I began looking through pictures, scanning them into my computer, and uploading them to this post. I typed the title. And stopped.

It has been three weeks.

I couldn't bring myself to write the post. Look at pictures? Sure. Talk about it with close friends? Absolutely. Cry with my family members? You better believe it. But write it down? No way, because to me, that makes it real.

My Grandad passed away on Sunday, August 15, only 3 days after his 80th birthday.

The weekend was a blur. I learned a lot during the weekend. About my family members and the way each of them process grief. About the strength and love that a family unit truly shares. How some people's strengths really do compensate for other people's weaknesses. Especially in times that are hard. I learned about the kind of person I want to be. The kind of family I pray we raise. The legacy I can only hope to leave.

My mind has been spinning, processing it all. My Grandad has had his share of health issues over the past few years, but he has always been so strong and resilient, he just always managed to push through and come out stronger on the other side. So when the incident happened Friday evening, I think we all were thinking (and desperately hoping) this would be just another bump on the road.

When the doctor came into that conference room, full of our entire family, over 33 people, with all eyes on him, you could have heard a pin drop. As he looked sadly into the never-wavering face of my Grandma and shook his head, you could have heard all of our hearts drop.

As we all gathered, crammed inside his ICU room, holding hands, praying, thanking God for his life, there was not a dry cheek in the room.

The time came to wait and see when the Lord was ready for him. I thought I was done. I had said my goodbyes, hugged him, and kissed his cheek once more. After all, I knew that was not him laying there. But when they came and said, "if you want to see him, you better hurry," I jumped up without even a thought or hesitation.

Watching my family, gathered around him, holding onto him and each other, as he smiled one last smile at my Grandma was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. It is hard to put into words. In fact, in that moment, there were no words. Frankly, I could barely breathe. My throat hurt from lack of air.

How do you say goodbye?

How do you say goodbye to a man who always made you feel small and protected? Safe in his arms?

How do you say goodbye to someone who brought out the best in you, and could always make you smile, despite the circumstances?

How do you say goodbye to someone who always opened your eyes to new things? New adventure? And whose hug made you confident that you would always be loved?

How do you say goodbye to someone who always made sure to make you feel special and unique...despite the fact that he had 14 grandkids to love on?

How do you say goodbye to the fun memories? The countless hours of fun at his home, in the motor home, on our vacations, at my parent's house?


How do you say goodbye to someone who taught you the benefit of hard work, and the satisfaction at the end of a long day...all the while, doing it with a smile?

How do you say goodbye to someone who made sure his family always knew they were special, loved, and the most important part of his life?

How do you say goodbye to someone who always made sure that your special occasions were special to him to? That he made it a priority to be at every major event in the lives of his family...and make sure everyone else was there too!

How do you say goodbye to someone who could make any situation fun and laugh-worthy? Just by being himself?

How do you say goodbye to someone who truly sat at the head of the table? Who was a leader in every sense of the word, through thick and thin? And who also gave us all a healthy appreciation for the finer things in life...good food and good family truly do go together.

How do you say goodbye?

You don't. You don't ever forget. You keep the memories close to your heart. You talk about them at family gathering, always remembering that they were there. You always try to live out the principles you were taught in an effort to honor the legacy.

And you never say goodbye. Simply, "see ya soon."

I love you, Grandad, and I'll see ya soon!

In light of tradition...

A couple years back on our third anniversary, I tried to convince Jesse that he should buy me a beautiful pearl necklace as a "traditional" anniversary gift. He thought I was crazy, and went online to show me that the true traditional gift of the 3rd anniversary was leather, to which he asked if I wanted a new wallet. Umm, no, my pink pleather wallet has served me just fine, thankyaverymuch.

On our fifth anniversary, we were tight for cash, so the only gift given was the traditional wood gift, because I found a wooden anniversary picture frame.

This year, we both kind of forgot about anniversary presents. We're trying to save and plan for a vacation together in the Fall, so gifts was not high on the list of priorities. BUT, you know I have been working on decorating my house a little bit as a time, and that is ALWAYS high on the list of priorities. So, when we found this wool rug that we both liked, I started pushing...and since wool is the traditional 7th anniversary present... I won. :)

Gotta love following traditions...

Swingin', Splashin', Swimmin', Smilin'

My little Olympian

This summer we knew that we would need something inside to help keep Ryleigh entertained, give her a learning opportunity, and let her run off some energy. So, as soon as she turned three, we enrolled her in a "tots" gymnastics class once a week.

She was a little hesitant at first, as she always is with new things or people, but warmed up pretty quickly. The class is 45 minutes long and consists of group stretching and then three different stations where they split the kids into smaller groups of three or four.

Now, a couple months into it, and Ryleigh LOVES gymnastics. She talks about it all the time and counts down until "Wes-day" when she gets to go to class. And truthfully, she has learned a lot! I have noticed a significant improvement in her techniques in only a few months!! No, I'm not trying to raise an Olympic athlete here, for those who might be concerned that we are pushing her. Yes, it was our idea, but if she hated it, we would certainly stop! The thing I wanted to get out of the entire experience was the "class" environment, where she was a part of a group, learning how to do things, listening to a teacher, and figuring out how to make her body do what the teacher showed. And as far as I'm concerned, she has already mastered all of that! She does very well paying attention, watching what she is supposed to do, and then trying to mimic the action. I have been very impressed with my little gymnast so far!

I attempted to covertly take these pictures last week, while also trying to not be that Mom, so bear with the poor quality.

The most difficult part of the whole ordeal has been trying to keep this little man entertained for 45 minutes, while not letting him crawl all around trying to join the older kids flipping on the trampoline...

Ryleigh's favorite activity so far is the trampoline, followed in a tight second with the balance beam. She does well with the different floor exercises they do, the vault, and hanging from the rings.

Overall, we are very pleased with everything, and plan to sign her up again for the Fall session. Like I said earlier, as long as she is having fun, then I'm all for it! And hey, if she should happen to become an Olympic athlete one day, well then I'll proudly sit on the front row, camera in hand, and then I wont care one bit who thinks I'm that Mom.

School is almost in session...

... and apparently Ryleigh figured she would give Wesley and all her baby dolls a head start this year.
Lined up for learning!!

There is no telling what my poor son will have to endure with the never-ending creativity of his big sister.

Joy. Happiness. Love.

Monday, Jesse and I celebrated 7 years of marriage. 7 years. Wow. Neither of us are big into extravagant gifts, but we do like to set aside some time to spend together. My sister came and watched the kiddos, and we went to dinner at one of the nice restaurants in town.

I told him to watch out, because I was dressing up and was going to knock his socks off...haha. (Umm, yeah pretty much anything other than workout shorts, an old t-shirt, and my hair in ponytail counts as "dressing up" these days.) I really did want to make him feel like I dressed up, according to his taste, to look nice just for him. So, I went and got a new dress, and the look on his face when he saw the finished product was priceless. Let's just say I achieved my goal. My hubby was happy. :)
And we found ourselves giggling at each other and being flirty all night. It's amazing what a pair of black high heels can bring out in a woman!

We enjoyed a long, slow dinner, savoring every course, sipping our wine, and having really good conversation. We talked about where we have been. Where we have come. What was good in the middle...and what wasn't so good... regrets, things we would change, and happy memories we wouldn't change for anything! We laughed together. We held hands. We played footsie under the fresh table cloth. It was a sweet night. One that we both desperately needed.

And as we walked out, hand in hand, headed back home to the kids...to the jobs...to the never ending chores...I was sad. I knew that sweet feeling of happiness in my heart was about to end. And yet, when we walked in the door of our home, to Ryleigh squealing in delight and Jesse beaming as she jumped in his arms, I realized, I wasn't sad. I was still happy! I still had an immense and overwhelming sense of love and gratitude for the man God gave me to spend my life with.

I'm a dreamer. I don't know if you know that about me. No, not in the sense that I live in fantasy land...I think I'm a realist, to a fault most of the time. But I dream. At night. All the time. Normally, I think Satan uses this time to plant seeds of discontentment and feelings of worry into my mind and heart. Often in my dreams, I am fighting against Jesse. Whether I'm hurt or angry, in my dreams, I typically lay into him in ways I would never do in real life. Lately though, several of my dreams have consisted of someone or something trying to take Jesse away from me. And I find myself constantly fighting for Jesse. Struggling sincerely over the thought of losing the single most important person in my life. And on the mornings I wake up after those dreams, you better believe I hold my man a little tighter!!

I always want to be on Jesse's team. I want to always be by his side, fighting for him...fighting for us. Because despite his flaws (I know, shocker, right?), God help me, I'm head over heels for that man. I love him with a deep devotion and a love that I cannot put into words. He still can give me butterflies and bring out the giggly school-girl in me, and I pray that never changes. I'm still overwhelmingly proud to walk into a room hand-in-hand with him. I still thank God that Jesse is MINE until death do us part. And more than that, I pray that I am loving him well. That I'm his best friend and biggest supporter. That I can still make his heart race with a certain wink and smile. That I'm his favorite person in the world to hang out with.

Because at the end of the day...at the end of the year...at the end of this season...at the end of this life... we were meant to be together. And we will be together. And I just pray that the joy remains throughout the trials.

When I think of joy between Jesse and I, naturally no day burns brighter than our wedding day 7 years ago. I was 20, he was 22. Two nervous kids with no idea what the future held, other than each other. And when I say scared, I'm not joking around. I was a nervous wreck all day long. I was absolutely terrified standing behind the big doors of the church. My dad jokes that he had to pull me through the doors to get me to start walking. I was scared.

But then I saw him. And he was smiling. Right at me. His eyes never left mine throughout the entire ceremony, reassuring me over and over that he was right by my side. After the ceremony was over, and we were officially husband and wife, the pressure immediately subsided, and we were both filled with nothing other than JOY.

I scanned a couple pictures from our wedding album (no, we did not have digital photos, so these are the best I got...bear with the blurriness!) to show you what I mean. Joy like this cannot be described in words, but it also cannot be missed in photos!

Pure happiness. Now, scroll back up to the top. The pictures of us taken Monday night before dinner. Do you see it? It's still there. Joy. Happiness. Love.