Are we there yet... » death

A quick update with the promise of more to come!

carly — Sun, 20 Sep 2009 19:21:34 +0000

Im a week behind in my blog updates. In that time, we celebrated two Georgia wins, the life of my great aunt Mannie who passed away last Friday, and sweet Mary Reese who turns two on September 26.

Things have been super busy around here! I’ll post birthday pictures later in the week, but for now, here are some pictures from last weekend. Our good friends Jay and Alina drove down from Columbia, SC to help cheer on the dawgs!

Our sweet friends Jay and Alina and thier little girl, Brenley. We met them in Lowell, MA shortly after getting married. Ourt girls are two weeks apart in age.

Alina and the girls.

A Bulldawg pregame dance off!

The last week

carly — Tue, 25 Aug 2009 13:46:26 +0000

I’m quite certain that the good people in Waycross, Georgia are some of the best people around. In fact, their presence and constant flow of casseroles, meat trays, and sweets are what got us through the depths of the last two weeks.

It’s been a whirlwind, that’s for sure. MR and I said goodbye to Waycross last Sunday and headed back to Atlanta. G stayed behind to be with his mom. By mid-day Monday, it was obvious that my nausea and upset stomach was not due to nerves, but rather a vicious, relentless stomach bug. For the next two days, I sat in bed, unable to eat or rest. Thankfully, mom and Julie were there to take on Mary Reese. By Thursday, the stomach bug had hit Garrett, Hannah, Mary Reese, Hendley, Boss, and Julie.

Garrett returned late Thursday night with his mom. Danette has long been our “rock” so we were honored to have her lean on us for once. Our weekend was spent as a family. We cried. Laughed. And prayed.

Danette headed back to Waycross yesterday morning. We hugged her tight and prayed for God’s guidance. There is no denying that we have a long road ahead of us. Wiby’s presence will be missed. We ask that you continue to lift us up in prayer. These prayers and God’s promise are truly a comfort to us!

Fernandina, July 2005

Fernandina, July 2008

December, 2008

Taking it one day at a time

carly — Wed, 19 Aug 2009 17:48:45 +0000

The last week has probably been the toughest time in my life. Never before have I felt such sadness. What started out as a fun-filled week at the beach, ended with a telephone call around midnight with the tragic news that Garrett’s step-dad had unexpectedly passed away. We are all heartbroken and ask that you lift us up in this time of need.

These pictures were taken on day two of our vacation, just hours before we received the devastating news. They have become a constant reminder that we should hold our loved ones near and praise God for each and everyday!

Julie and Mom drove over for the night so that Hendley and Trent could have some beach time. Their timing (or God’s) allowed us to head to Waycross, Ga as soon we received word. For the next three nights, mom and Julie kept Mary Reese and made a special trip to Atlanta to pick up more of our belongings. Their support was a tremendous source of comfort for G and I!

Remembering Aunt Linda

garrett — Sun, 04 May 2008 18:45:20 +0000

I didn’t need to knock. I’m not sure why, but it was something I knew. Even a source of pride. Something else I knew was that once I opened the unlocked door, one of them would be in there. A head would appear from behind the refrigerator, or they would walk around the table drying whatever dish or pan they were holding, and announce my arrival with enthusiasm, “Garbut!”. It was the place where conversations began. Conversations that would carry us from room to room, as breakfast turned to supper and day turned to night. Each one began the same. A big hug, a friendly jab to the shoulder followed by a firm handshake, or some combination of the above. It was one of the smaller rooms in the house, but it was never crowded. Somehow holding the entire family for many a celebration. I remember it hosting only one time of sadness…upon the passing of its matriarch.

Aunt Linda was always the first one up, well before sunrise. We were always the last ones up, well after sunrise. The morning light shone brightly through its window, amplified by brilliant white cabinets. Somehow two chairs and the small table were always enough. Breakfast was usually casual and occurred whenever we made it down. It was sometimes preceded by a minor reprimand for coming to the table without a shirt. I had a slightly different understanding of the term casual. But she would usually greet us with a warm smile and a pleasant, “Good morning boys.” Uncle Skeeter, fueled by his morning coffee, would fix us french toast as we discussed our plans for the day. This simple setting was an example of the differences between kids and parents. Our preparation for the day, started with breakfast. While Uncle Skeeter’s started the night before, grinding coffee beans to ensure a fresh cup the next morning.

It was the center of activity. The heartbeat of the house. Someone was always coming and going. Given the crossing of the ways, you can understand why the majority of group conversations occurred there. It was the perfect size and setting, regardless of the number of participants. My favorite perch was either of the two corners, where the counters and cabinets made ninety degree turns. You could sit comfortably and lean back against the cabinets, without feeling like they were crowding you. Even better, if Aunt Linda or Uncle Skeeter was working away, they could easily work around you — lean forward if they needed something from an upper cabinet, lift a leg for something in a lower cabinet or drawer.

By lunch, the sun had made it’s way across the sky and away from the window. The cool darkness was welcome relief from the hot, south Georgia sun. Ice would crackle and pop as we poured Uncle Skeeter’s warm sweet tea into cups from Friday night’s football game. You knew it was no more than an hour or two old. No matter how much we drank to quench our insatiable thirst, there was always more. Sandwiches and chips were the normal fare, served on paper plates with woven straw plate-holders. I can see her hands as she prepared the meal. There was a deliberateness to their movement, and even their resting positions. After placing the sandwich on the plate, she would delicately grab a handful of chips to accompany it. Chips were stored in a tin. Blue and white, it was more than a simple container, rather a decorative piece in harmony with the room. The chips may have come from the same bag anyone else could get, but they were special. Somehow better.

I only remember one replacement of the refrigerator over the years. The transition provided minimal change. Both were stark white, with ample acreage for pictures, papers, and all the little reminders that would get lost anywhere else. Aunt Linda chose to adorn her canvas with pictures of the kids — Will and Anne for sure, but also McDavids, Haggards, Lees, and more Harveys. Over the years, the faces stayed the same, but the pictures did not. Her fridge had no long term memory. There was no room given the ever-changing lives and activities of her subjects. Even when you are alone in the room, loneliness is impossible when you’re surrounded by your family.

The supper menu was often more formal. I know we enjoyed countless everyday suppers too, but the ones that stand out are the meals that celebrated special occasions, specifically Christmas. Even though we may have sat at the kids table, there was no such thing as a kids menu. We ate congealed salad just like the grown-ups. Congealed salad presented quite a conundrum for a child. Was it salad, and therefore something to be spurned in the name of rebellious youth? Or was it an early dessert, a peace offering from the adults in exchange for good behavior? To this day, I’m still not sure.

The conversations continued throughout the meals and usually carried on for hours after the final plate was clean. At some point, a word would be used that was unfamiliar to the kids. When asked for it’s meaning, Aunt Linda, ever the teacher, would advise us to look it up. Luckily we all knew where the dictionary lived. You can imagine the response if one of us were to ask, “where is it at?”. I never wanted these nights to end. I never wanted the first person to leave the table. There is an energy that is present when the entire group is engaged, but this energy fades as people leave and disparate conversations begin. The night follows close behind.

They say it’s not where, but who you’re with that really matters. I would offer that when you’ve got both the who and the where, life is even better. I know that we’ll never see her in that room again. I’m not sure why she had to go, but they say He has a plan. I like to think that His plan involves a similar room in heaven, where she is preparing meals and waiting for us. There is nobility in cooking. Nurturing others with the food you prepare and the words you share while doing so. Surely heaven recognizes this nobility and allows us to share it with other believers.

How a room could harbor so much emotion is beyond me. Along with ingredients for meals yet made, its cabinets overflowed with memories of times past. It was the place where conversations ended. Conversations that conveyed our shared love of this fragile life and all of its glorious experiences. Each one ended the same. The room was dark, backlit by the florescent bulb in the window above the sink. No need to walk me out. A sincere good night with an implied agreement for a prompt return. I always locked the door and turned off the outside lights as I left. Leaving in darkness, but always to return in light.

- Garrett & Carly

Life After Death

admin — Sat, 15 Sep 2007 05:47:00 +0000

Carly’s grandmother passed away last night in her sleep. I think we would all like to believe that our transition to the next life will be as peaceful. She’s now spending time with “her Lord and her Savior” that she spoke so much about during our conversations. I only knew her for a few years, but as Julie blogged earlier, we’ll be sharing stories about Granny for the rest of our days.

I’ve spent the day taking it all in, somewhat perplexed by this period in our lives. Never before have I been in a position to appreciate life’s ultimate dichotomy as much as I do this evening. Each new event threatening to divert my thoughts permanently toward life or death, only to be followed by an opposing event, offsetting the first and ensuring a tolerable balance as I move on. I use the word “balance” with hesitation. During a particularly emotional time, it’s hard to believe you’ll ever experience the other side again. But sooner or later you do, because one of the beauties of this world is that you need both to appreciate either.

As we welcome new family into the world this year, we remember the family members we’ve recently lost, as well as those in years passed. Just as our parents, aunts, and uncles were links to family we never knew, we will be the link to family our children will never know. I was always frustrated when I asked one of my links a question that they couldn’t answer, thinking to myself, “surely you should know that.” I now understand that it’s not the memorization of facts about a person that keep them alive. It’s the love for and memory of the person that guarantees survival. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to tell Mary Reese all the names of my grandmother’s 15 brothers and sisters, or convey what it was like for her to grow up on a farm in south Georgia during the 30′s and 40′s. But I have no doubt Mary Reese will feel Mema’s love in each and every story I tell, because Mema will live forever in my heart.