I’m the One...

This week I opened the family history book I started writing in January of last year.  The last time I worked on the book was

March 1st, 2021. I had just finished most of the chapter pertaining to myself and my nuclear family so it was Brett’s turn to chime in. 

This is the last thing I’d written in the process of telling our story before receiving the news that my brother was gone (Easter morning, 2021). 

“Brett Alan Patterson is my big brother.  By rights he was my first friend and we remain close to this day.  Our paths diverged when our folks divorced in 1977 and Brett moved to the north side of Indianapolis with dad.  I got to see Brett every other weekend after that and in 1987, we became a tag team again when he moved back with mom for a time.  I’ve asked him to share about his life here while teasing that he should make it count because this is his shot.  I mean really, who else is going to write his life story?  So here are some thoughts about Brett in his own words…”

Brett and I had been talking and sharing stories and photos for several weeks before his death.  Over Christmas I’d shared with everyone that I was starting our book so everyone was excited and the information was flowing. Until it stopped.

I have a folder full of memories and photos from my brother, and many more I’ve pulled from scores of family and friends that have reached out since his death.  I’m determined to pull them together and answer the question I vividly remember teasing him about. “Who else is going to write his life story?” 

Me.  I’m the one.

Mom On Fire...

Some days are heavy and I can’t help but want to wash it all away. Some days I’m reminded that I can’t do it all. That I can’t have it all. Fix it all. That I can’t change it all. Like last night when my son called to tell me there was a man with a gun who’d barricaded himself (and maybe a hostage or two?) inside the Indiana University Memorial Union. The building on campus a block and a half from the kiddo’s front door. The place where he likes to sit at Starbucks and study and meet friends. The campus living room of sorts. Yeah, that place.

Disbelief. Fear. Shock. The emotions that washed over us in the moment were BIG. And all at once I felt like I wanted him to run to me, I wanted to run to him, and I wanted to just run away. But when you’re a mom and your kiddo calls for advice/help, you don’t have the luxury to lose it. There is no running. So we did what we do best. We talked through the situation, calmly and objectively, and decided on the best course of action, a course that was logical for my kiddo, the young man who’s on his own (mostly), given the information we had at the time. 

Sometimes it's easy to remember that there’s so much I can’t change in this world... That there’s so much I can’t change for him... But then I hear the words of my magnificient friend Stacy Green ringing loud and clear. I can change me. I can do things differently. I can control how I act and how I react. And I can control my own weather, which means I can choose how to handle what comes at me and how I help my tribe when they call. 

And when things like last night come at me, I can pray like a mom on fire. #Build2022

Christmas Without You...

A year ago tonight was the last time I saw my brother alive. The last time we laughed together. The last time we celebrated Christmas together. I miss you, Brett Patterson. I miss our late night drives. 

Breakfast. Phone calls… I miss all of it. #thebrett10

The Kiddo...

I'm so incredibly grateful to be able to spend time with my amazing kiddo this Christmas. He isn’t a kid anymore (and he would groan at me for saying so), but in my heart I still see this when I look at him! #ChristmasEve2021vs2002 #Build2022

Start Living...

I’m blessed to be able to drive past the cemetery where my grandparents are buried with regularity. I often stop and chat with them, and I’m grateful they’re close by.

Since losing my brother, however, driving by has been different. I still stop every week, but I can’t lie. Seeing my brother’s grave is a harsh reminder that we aren’t all afforded a long life. That we all don’t get unlimited time to go for our dreams and take advantage of much needed second chances.

Life is fragile, friends. And there are no guarantees. If there’s something you’re settling for… If there’s something you’re not letting yourself go for… It’s likely you’re selling yourself short and wasting precious time. Don’t do that to yourself. Start living. #Build2022

Never Say Never...

And while I didn’t need 2021 to say “hold my beer,” it certainly did just that. Never say never, friends. But more importantly, never forget that you can change and step into something bigger at any time. Never forget that you can survive your worst days and build back better. Never say never, especially about yourself! #OTL #Build2022

From this exact day last year (12/14/20)...

It was probably silly to think we’d get through December without a bit more mayhem but a girl can hope, right? Wrong. If 2020 has taught me anything it’s that things change. Plans get scotched, schedules get scrubbed, and things break.

Today has been a day of reevaluating priorities, adjusting expectations, and reframing our

holiday. And while I hoped the week would start off a bit calmer given the weekend capsized us, sadly it wasn’t meant to be.

This morning I woke to find my lemon juniper crashed on the patio and while I stood there surveying the damage, I couldn’t help but laugh. I’ve put Juni back together and she’s resting in her winter bed for the moment due to high winds and cool nights here in Atlanta but to say this scene resembles our lives at the moment would be putting it mildly.

I’m not sure I’ve ever experienced a season in life that’s needed more mending, and patching, and clean up than 2020. Sometimes it’s nothing short of overwhelming. #MayhemAllTheWayAround

GPS...

I got lost less than a mile away from my house the other day. GPS and all, I drove the same loop twice before I realized where I was. Lost--four little letters that seem surreal to me at times yet for about twenty minutes last Thursday, that’s exactly what I was; well off my plan A.

The last few months have been a blur and if this year has proven anything, it’s that plans can change on a dime.

I started laughing at myself when I realized where I was. Then I realized that if I would have just trusted my gut, I would’ve made the correct turn the first time. The rest of the short drive home I thought about the notion of trusting my gut juxtaposed with that of trusting the GPS. The notion that GPS is programmed by someone sitting in front of a computer interpreting points on a map that may well not be exactly where I’m located isn’t lost on me. Areas change and maps fall out of date but we see things in real time. GPS doesn’t know that you don’t always like to take the highway. Sometimes the backroads are where you find the good stuff. GPS doesn’t realize that you don’t always want to cut through neighborhoods to save five minutes.

Like it or not, sometimes we find ourselves smack dab in the middle of plan B and you know what? That’s not always a bad thing. Last week plan B took me to a new smoothie place that just so happens to carry my favorite protein powder.