Journeys

In the early days, our family always visited my grandparents, Mimi and Nonne, on Easter. I can remember looking forward to those trips for months, before we finally arrived in Wellsville. There was something about spring and seeing the buds on the trees, the robins in the lawn and all those familiar faces (many of whom are gone now). After coming through the long cold winter, those times signified for me, a new beginning.

In my mind, every life is a journey. As we celebrated Easter, I thought of the journey that Jesus took that eventually led to the cross and his resurrection. Everyone is on their own personal journey in life and searching for meaning and answers to the questions that arise and hopefully a new beginning.

This last winter, I was on my way back from work and it was snowing so hard that I didn't feel comfortable on the expressway (highway?). To alleviate my fears, I got off and decided to drive through some city back streets until I made my way back to suburbia. Syracuse didn't do such a good job taking care of their streets this year, nor the sidewalks for that matter. As I meandered my way through, I encountered several people who were walking down the middle of the road out of necessity. I looked out in the dark and the falling snow at these characters and wondered what their stories were. Where were they headed on such a night? home? to the neighborhood store? to rescue a friend or love one? and what memories would they develop during these adventures? I thought of all of my favorite holiday films and how there was always some character who was searching for something and meeting up with the strangest people along the way. These were people (or spirits) that you might not normally associate with (e.g. Christmas Carol, The Walton's Homecoming and It's a Wonderful Life), but come to rely on in a moment of need. In the end, the main character always found personal salvation of some sort and a new beginning in life.

I have been thinking of the idea of journeys for some time. Currently, I am reading a book entitled,  the Goodbye Quilt by Susan Wiggs and it has a similar theme. In it, a mother and daughter take a road trip from their home out West to a college in the Northeast. The daughter, Molly, drives while her mother sews a quilt comprised of special fabric mementos from Molly's many achievements over her short life. The mom is reminiscing while the daughter is becoming more and more apprehensive about her new stage in life. The quilt really ends up being the story of the mom's life and the new beginning that she discovers at the end of their trip.

When Tammie was dying, I thought of the past and how our lives had changed so since we were small. I could see that she was entering a new chapter and that death was not the end but in a sense a new beginning for her. At the time, this was difficult for me to contemplate until a friend pointed it out, but the concept makes perfect sense to me now. This Sunday, I am going to "celebrate" Tam's birthday by running my 7th Mountain Goat Run in Syracuse. Although, not nearly in shape, I decided that this 10 mile journey through Downtown Syracuse, Onondaga Street, Strathmore, the South Side, the University Section, and back Downtown would be dedicated to her memory and hoping that I discover a "new beginning" for me.

Fun with Sean

Today was a very cold day, but Sean was up and I took him to see Tam's bench. During the day, we shared some thoughts and stories about her and I am still having trouble processing what happened.

Life will never seem the same without her.

Last year, I made a post about our trips to the Camillus Ski Association hill that was practically in our back yard. We did this for a few years, but neither Tam or I became outstanding skiers. Last week, Tammie's son, Derek was up visiting and I took him to the old ski hill for a moment, before we headed for Green Lakes State Park in Manlius, NY.

Derek and I also went to a skating rink in Downtown Syracuse. Neither of us had any interest in skating, but it got me to thinking of skating in the past with my family. We used to skate at a park in Camillus, but a couple of years, my parents created a skating rink in our backyard. My dad brought out these old skates that he probably borrowed from Hans Brinker and stormed across the ice with all of his 200 plus pounds. Fortunately for us, he remained on his feet. I can't tell you how much that Tam and I enjoyed skating over the bumpy ice with my parents. I look out over that yard now, and realize how many wonderful moments I had growing up and how much my sister was an integral part of that.

This was the ski hill where we first learned about snowplowing and how to get up from a terrible fall. We had a lot of those.

The best part of these trips for me was warming up with some hot chocolate after the falling had stopped.