Wednesday, December 28, 2016

Alki

Here are a few pictures from our short trip to Alki this morning. It was cold and windy and perfect for collecting beach glass. As we were leaving the beach, G was leading the way and telling me I was taking too long. Theo, on the other hand started helping me find beach glass. And shells, and rocks and seaweed and cigarette filters.


Overlooking downtown Seattle at Anchor Park on Alki
He is as mischievous as he is cute




Anchor Park on Alki



My sweet goofy boy

One of the fifty plus pieces of beach glass I found. My hands were freezing by time I was done but it was worth it.



Looking for treasures

The boys were running from the water.



Sunday, December 11, 2016

Like Labradors

We just spent the afternoon and evening at the annual Christmas Party that Ryan's soccer buddies have every year. I felt so comfortable with this group of people that I was able to fall asleep in a comfy chair in the living room while everyone else watched the Seahawks v Packers catastrophe. There is something I find so comforting about sleeping in a noisy room with activity going on all around. I wonder if it calls to something that is so deep, so old that it is embedded as a feeling rather than as a memory. Like being in the womb - warm and safe, or being a small child and falling asleep on your grandparents couch while surrounded by aunts and uncles and noisy cousins. This comfort is something you experienced but can't remember other than in this way of feeling.

Over the years this group of people has become special to me. When I first met them I felt like I didn't belong - not because of anything they said or did - it was me being hyper aware of how different we were. Or so I thought. They played soccer and I didn't. They enjoyed athletic pursuits in general. While I enjoy watching football and have come to enjoy watching soccer I don't do so much of the playing of the sports. 

As I was able to get over my self imposed feelings of inadequacy I started to think of them as not just Ryan's soccer buddies but as my friends, too. With each wedding, each Lamb Day, each random gathering I felt more and more like I belonged. And to feel like you belong in a group like this, a group of people who grew up playing sports, who have that camaraderie, is special to someone like me; someone who didn't grow up playing sports. I am not lacking in friendship - I have some kick ass friends - but this group of people is different from any other group I've been a part of. They are also some of the happiest people you could hope to meet. Seriously, they are like Labrador Retrievers, always running and chasing balls.

This past summer the Morelli's opened their home on Orcas Island to the group. It was such a fun weekend that the collective group made it clear we wanted to be invited back en masse the following year. The kids put on a talent show one night. The kids were hilarious and not always on purpose; there was dancing and joke telling and lots of improv. The next night the kids had the adults put on a talent show. While the kids got to choose their talent the adults had to draw their talent out of a hat. Ryan had to dance, Brad had to sing an opera, someone got to show off their sick break dancing moves and I got to tell a joke. Everyone laughed at my joke me because I was laughing so hard I could hardly breathe let alone tell my super awesome joke. 

Wanna hear it?

Too bad. 

"Why couldn't the witch have babies?" 

"Because her husband had a halloweenie!"

Ha! Get it? See - I told you it was hilarious.

I may have had a little bit too much to drink that night. Maybe.

As I sit here, having looked through some of the photos from tonight that people posted on Facebook, I noticed how people were sharing their own appreciation for this group. Instead of limiting myself to a few words on Facebook - and instead of going around to each person at the next gathering and telling him/her how much I appreciate him/her (because people would think I was dying or something and it just seems kind of creepy) I'm doing it here. So, soccer peeps, if you are reading this: I appreciate you.  









Tuesday, December 06, 2016

Hope

The kids are in bed and the house is quiet. The Christmas tree, in its imperfect glory, is a colorful focal point in the dark room. I'm sitting next to the fireplace, my right arm is getting quite warm but I don't want to change positions because that would involve turning away from the warm glow of the Christmas tree.

I have been sitting here off and on throughout the day trying to write this. I sat at the dining room table earlier and last night I was in the basement staring at my computer screen, unable to write. I can't find the right place. I can't find the right words. Nothing about what I'm trying to do is coming easily to me and I can't understand why so I'm just going to muddle through this feeling of not capturing what I want to say with just the right words. 

This exercise in what feels like futility is to tell you about Jason. To tell you that he was a great guy. That when I think about Jason the first thing that pops in my head is his smile. His smile could light up a room. He was kind of quiet and unassuming but you could sense a deep well of contentment in him. Physically he wasn't a very big guy but his - I don't know what to call it - his aura? his being? The thing that was Jason was big. His calm, his happiness and his love, were all larger than that could be contained in him. He kind of just spilled goodness because there was so much of it in him.

I was talking to Ryan at Starbucks a day or two after Jason died. Ryan told me he used to think Jason had the best luck - he was always winning something at office parties and at industry events. I said that maybe so many good things happened to him because he wasn't given a full life. Whatever good that was to be had needed to fit into his thirty-eight years before cancer claimed him. 

But talking like the cancer was predestined and that all of Jason's goodness had a finite amount of time is kind of lame. His goodness didn't have to be snuffed out. If he had a treatment that would have worked for him his goodness could have filled up many more decades. His kids could have had a dad to be there for the big life events and even more important, for the minutiae that is life.

This is where I'm looking to you for help. I'm trying to raise money for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society by doing the Big Climb. Your contributions will help further the research that is needed to find effective treatments for the Jason's out there who do not know cancer is lying in wait for them. 

If you want to learn more about the LLS and the Big Climb please click on this link: http://www.llswa.org/goto/apriljahns; and if you are able to please consider contributing to this great cause.



Jason Holdridge
1977-2016