I'll remember you

August 22, 2009, was what would have been my parents' 50th wedding anniversary. My father died on Christmas Eve 2002. When they had their 40th wedding anniversary, my brothers and I talked about arranging a big party for them. My mother talked us out of it saying that we should wait for a bigger one. Wait for the 50th anniversary, she said. We didn't know that we would not have the luxury of waiting.

The first anniversary after Dad died, my brothers and I didn't know what the right thing to do was. Should we call? Should we not? All my life we had celebrated Aug. 22, which we always confused with Aug. 24, Mom's birthday. The usual phone calls came from my brothers asking me if it was Mom's birthday or our parents' anniversary. If they couldn't get a hold of me, they always called on Aug. 23, so that they were late for one but early for the other. All averaged out, right?

So back to Aug. 22, 2009. When my brother called her and wished her a happy anniversary, she said, "Why? I'm not married anymore. I'm single." She's moved on, as well she should. But this would have been a big day. She had no plans so when her friend Beth called and asked if she'd like to join her at church, she said yes. Beth's cousin who is a visiting priest was celebrating the mass and Beth wanted Mom to meet him.

After mass, Beth announced that she wanted to go out for dinner. Her cousin has lots of friends and family in Hawaii so he had a full social calendar. Mom wasn't exactly prepared for a night out, but figured they'd just have dinner someplace close. Instead the group headed out to Waikiki and ate at a fabulous gourmet buffet at one of the resorts there. Pretty swanky, right?

In conversation, Mom told Beth that this would have been her 50th anniversary. Beth, inspired, called over a group of musicians to serenade Mom. The guy holding the guitar asked Mom what she wanted to hear and she said, "Anything Hawaiian..." The musician said, "I know exactly the right one..."



Mom said later that it was all she could do to keep from crying there, in front of Beth, her friends, and this musician who inexplicably had picked the exact song that my father used to sing for my mom.

Here is the thank-you note she sent to Beth. I helped her write it:

What a surprise you gave me on Saturday! I am grateful not only for the lovely dinner but also for the constancy of your friendship. Since Domingo died, the 22nd of August has been a bittersweet anniversary. While I always remember the life we built and shared together, it seems strange to celebrate our wedding anniversary without him. But when that musician sang the first words of Lei Aloha, it really felt like Sandy was with me, wishing me a happy anniversary. Thank you for such a special evening and memory.

Chicken skin, right?

Holly -wog

Poor little Holly has such a fun name. All kinds of neat nick names can be made from it. Holly-wood. Holly-wog. Holly Berry. Hollyanna.

A couple of weeks ago, lil' Miss Holly proved that she loves me far more than any of my human children ever could. Maybe it is just that they've not been faced with proving their love for me by putting themselves in mortal danger, so perhaps I am a little unfair in my assessment.

We were at the beach for our last summer hurrah. It was a perfect day for it. The tide was low earlier in the day so when the water came in, it was nice and warm. There was a breeze so we weren't too hot on the sunny day, but it did make for choppy waters. I think the waves were maybe 3 or 4 inches tall but when you're Holly sized (she was maybe 8 - 9 pounds at the time) they're tsunami sized waves.

Lil'T wanted to go swimming so I walked out into the surf with her. Holly is not a swimming dog. Her breed historically lived on farms and hunted mice. They were always far from the sea. Holly doesn't even like to go out in the rain. But she followed me and T to the shore where she howled and barked for me to come back to the dry land because it was treacherous in the water. Surely, T and I should know better than to risk our lives in the sea. T and I played in the surf and Holly looked on completely dismayed. Somewhere in that doggy brain, she made a decision to save our lives and she jumped into the surf, braving waves breaking over her head, swimming (more like thrashing) because she's not an artful swimmer. I've covered how here breed is not a water dog, right? And she swam into my arms. At that point, I was holding both the dog and the pre-schooler. Lil'T was laughing and having a great time. Holly was crying, wet, miserable, shaking in fear, and cold. So I walked the 3 yards to the shore and plopped her on dry land. Again with the crying, whimpering, and howling. And again with the jumping in, thrashing in the water, swimming out to Lil'T and me. It happened about 5 or 6 times.

Our friend Kiko, who is a veterinarian, was with us at the beach. She saw the whole pathetic display of Holly's undying devotion. She was asked if this was normal for dogs to behave this way. She said that it wasn't normal. That it bordered on pathological. Kiko said that I should spend time away from Holly and let her learn to be on her own a little more.

Pathological?

I think I'm okay with she and me being codependent on each other. I mean, it isn't like I'm enabling her to do drugs or alcohol. She just has a slightly unbalanced attachment to me and I have to admit, I do to her as well. That throwing her own mortal fears to the wind and jumping into the water to "save" me, well, that just sealed it.

Devotion = Holly

MJ tribute

Thanks for sharing this Jen.