Today is Monday.
it's a sad sort of meloncholy Monday so I guess that is sort of fitting dont you think? I mean, Wednesdays should be perky, Fridays should be downright beautiful outside and who cares what Saturday is like....cause it's Saturday and any kind of day is good for a Saturday.
so, back to Monday....
over the weekend my parents went to visit my Uncle Edsel. Now keep in mind that we (my family of mom,dad,brother and sister) have lived all alone in Arkansas worlds away from all the rest of our family in Kansas/Oklahoma for ALL of my life. So i have never been close to any of them. Couldnt tell you what they like, what they don't like. Don't have a clue what to buy them when they get married or graduate but i do love them just the same. They are my family after all. This has caused me some "not liking you too much mom and dad" moments and i will admit i did feel jipped, whole nother post...
Uncle Edsel.
the Uncle that was the stereotipical farmer. He always had on overalls, always what i would describe as jolly and honestly the sweetest man i have ever met. To this day, i have a black and white picture that hangs in my kitchen, it's an 8x10 of his old faithful tractor. and i love that picture. i remember his barns, and the big rig he drove and used to let me sit on his lap and honk the horn.
i loved that horn and being able to sit in that seat with him as people watched us power on behind the loud obnoxious noise. when little kids would sit in their cars and pump their arms up and down feverishly at the guy in the truck begging him to honk.the.horn.
he was the guy that always did.
so it's hard to hear my parents talk about how he can't do anything for himself. can't sit up, or shake your hand, or feed himself. This is the life of the those that give up. When you have battled as long as hard as he has (with replacement surgeries on body parts like hips and knees) and heart attacks and just plain sadness that your body doesnt do the things that it used to be able to do... i can accept that on some levels but on others i just can't. maybe because it is a reminder that someday i might be that same broken person.
i can only hope that he knows that he is loved. that he knows that he left a mark and he made a little girls day on more than one occasion. i hope he knows every time i see a tractor, or a big rig, or a big jolly guy with a huge smile and shining spirit....that i will think of my sweet Uncle Edsel....
it's a sad sort of meloncholy Monday so I guess that is sort of fitting dont you think? I mean, Wednesdays should be perky, Fridays should be downright beautiful outside and who cares what Saturday is like....cause it's Saturday and any kind of day is good for a Saturday.
so, back to Monday....
over the weekend my parents went to visit my Uncle Edsel. Now keep in mind that we (my family of mom,dad,brother and sister) have lived all alone in Arkansas worlds away from all the rest of our family in Kansas/Oklahoma for ALL of my life. So i have never been close to any of them. Couldnt tell you what they like, what they don't like. Don't have a clue what to buy them when they get married or graduate but i do love them just the same. They are my family after all. This has caused me some "not liking you too much mom and dad" moments and i will admit i did feel jipped, whole nother post...
Uncle Edsel.
the Uncle that was the stereotipical farmer. He always had on overalls, always what i would describe as jolly and honestly the sweetest man i have ever met. To this day, i have a black and white picture that hangs in my kitchen, it's an 8x10 of his old faithful tractor. and i love that picture. i remember his barns, and the big rig he drove and used to let me sit on his lap and honk the horn.
i loved that horn and being able to sit in that seat with him as people watched us power on behind the loud obnoxious noise. when little kids would sit in their cars and pump their arms up and down feverishly at the guy in the truck begging him to honk.the.horn.
he was the guy that always did.
so it's hard to hear my parents talk about how he can't do anything for himself. can't sit up, or shake your hand, or feed himself. This is the life of the those that give up. When you have battled as long as hard as he has (with replacement surgeries on body parts like hips and knees) and heart attacks and just plain sadness that your body doesnt do the things that it used to be able to do... i can accept that on some levels but on others i just can't. maybe because it is a reminder that someday i might be that same broken person.
i can only hope that he knows that he is loved. that he knows that he left a mark and he made a little girls day on more than one occasion. i hope he knows every time i see a tractor, or a big rig, or a big jolly guy with a huge smile and shining spirit....that i will think of my sweet Uncle Edsel....
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