A friends model quality picture totally reminded me of this and I thought it deserved to be a blog post. I’ve been slack but I have a running list of topics I want to post about when I have the time. I needed to take some time off from the blog so that it wouldn’t be totally graphic posts (stick with me, it is unrelated to these topics) about childbirth, nursing, and young children. And frankly, I’m just tired and my offspring may possibly be making me dumber and crazier. I’m pretty sure they have a schedule on who freaks out when. They know exactly how many days I can go without showering before it directly involves their noses and my complete lack of sanity. The trifecta of unhappiness is yet another post I need to write… But I have derailed. I’m going to keep this very shortish and simple. It’s a story about the humor in life and also the amazing people I am blessed to have as parents, by their own CHOICE. My mom & dad separated and divorced when I was young. Both parents went on to remarry wonderful people. We spent the majority of our school years living primarily with my mom and my step-dad, Tom.
My mom passed away when I was 15 and my brother was 10 from breast cancer. She truly battled it three times. The majority of ages 8-15 for me greatly involved stages of her cancer or remission. True story, my first date dropped me off at the hospital to see my mom after. And, my first day of high school she was diagnosed with a reoccurrence.
We knew she was terminally ill. She had days towards the end where she was in and out of coherence but she constantly asked where we wanted to live after she passed. I was too in denial to really believe it would happen so a final decision wasn’t made. After she passed, my brother and I ended up staying with Tom with my real dad’s very gracious blessing. He saw it was better for us not to be uprooted (this is the short version remember).
There was a lot of sadness and heartbreak but there is also a lot of humor in my life. My mom and dad were both incredibly funny people so I really feel like they would appreciate all the humor and who knows, maybe they helped orchestrate some of it.
Anyway, more on all of that in a book because ain’t nobody got time to read a blog post that long.
So fast forward to age 20ish? I was living at home (the one I grew up in from 8 on in NC). I took a break from college and was working full time and taking classes part time at the community college to save money. I later went back full time to a small private (read: $$$$$) college so I’m not sure where my brain was at on that financial move but they had the major I wanted. That’s kind of a funny story too, but one for another day.
So by this time Tom had re-married. (When I was 17 actually) And I’m not even kidding when I say it was to his first wife, Joan. They (re-)married in March of my senior year of high school. It wasn’t a quick decision, Joan moved to the area and got to know my brother and I before (she wasn’t crazy, we could have been total teenage psychopaths). Tom very thoughtfully talked to us about him dating again and our thoughts and feelings. While I was a bratty teenager that knew everything I at least had the sense to know that my mom would have wanted Tom to be happy. And I really do believe she had a hand in sending Joan to us.
So I’m living with my brother, step-dad, and step-step-mom in the house I grew up in. I’m 20ish and things aren’t going according to my perfect life plan. Everyone got along, I just wasn’t headed to Med School like I thought I would be. I was working full time while my friends were all away at college.
Tom and Joan are both saints, for endless reasons. The most obvious and basic in regard to this story is that they raised (reared, whatev) two teenagers that were not their own biologically. By choice. TEENAGERS. Seriously. Joan didn’t come in and remove all the family pictures with my mom in them (they are still there now despite that my brother and I have said it’s ok with us for them to come down or even if they wanted to move).
So, on the fridge there were the normal family pictures of cousins and friends. Notes, announcements, etc… There was this small red magnetic heart frame there as well. The frame still had the photo that came in it. One day I jokingly asked Joan & Tom if they planned to ever put a legit photo in it. I wish you could see their faces with the combination of confusion and sarcasm as the following conversation took place.
Joan- “But that’s a picture of you?!?”
Me- “Nope.”
Tom- “That’s you when you were little.”
Me- “Nope” (cue the laughter)
Joan- “Are you sure?!?”
Me- “I’m pretty sure I know myself.” (removing the CARDBOARD photo to show them).
Laughter.
For 5 years some cute (she did look like me, ha) little picture frame model held a spot on the fridge because they really thought it was me. They didn’t know me at that age in the photo. And in fairness, she looked like me. That’s funny stuff. And it shows their hearts at the same time, not taking down all the memories even though it had to be very awkward for them both.
Always look for the funny, or you will go crazy. Or just embrace the crazy.
PS- My kids get their chunk cheeks honestly.
I love this story. You have a beautiful wonderful family. You make me laugh so hard!
You tell your past as anyone else would…and don’t gloat on the fact that you were so pretty and never acted like you knew it! What a beautiful story of love you live!
I swear my family has tried to convince me for years that pictures of a small child are me. I ask why am I wearing a dress? Maybe that is a story for another day as well? Which reminds me. I need to make another appointment with my Psychotherapist.
I recall Mom (your Granny Betty) saying once that when you were High School a teacher suggested you write your life story, and added, that maybe you should consider listing it as fiction, because no one would believe it was true.
Your Mom, my sister Mary, was indeed like you – funny, kind, caring and beautiful inside and out. And, she and David were both very funny people. Even when Mary was sick, she would call me with what we referred to as the dumb joke of the day/week -hers or mine. Although they were mostly lame, that is what made them so hilarious, that anyone would take time from their day to call someone to share it. But, they cracked me up– every time. Sometimes so hard, it took more than a few moments to regain composure. And, even though it was her joke, she would be laughing just as hard at my reaction. This was our relationship growing up — we could always take the worst event and find humor in it. A way of coping with any tragedy.
Our granddad Paul Neal was an imposing man, very loving, but little tolerance for our childhood shenanigans. He always came to dinner in a pressed white shirt, bowtie and I don’t think his pants ever wrinkled. At one dinner, Mary had some green beans on a spoon laid across a fork, not to eat, but for trajectory. Her plan was they would go into the air and come down on my plate across the table. But things went horribly awry when the grandparents dog (Ethel Rose — it used to be Jackie, but Grandmother was upset when she married Onasis and quietly renamed the dog after John Kennedy’s mother) brushed against her under the table (not expected) at the moment Mary popped the spoon and it went sideways off the fork. The beans did not go into my plate as Mary had so carefully calculated it would, it took an unexpected path – splat in the middle of Grandad’s forehead.
Dead silence for what seemed a very long time before Granddad said a word, as we waited for the earth to open up and swallow us – or worse. Granddad looked up with the green beans dripping from his forehead and stared us down looking for the guilty party. It was too easy, Mary was sitting there and her face was as red as a beat. Nevertheless, Granddad said ” I know the damned beans did not just grow wings and fly, and before he finished Mary had developed her plan to continue life — “Mike did it!” I erupted in protest when the unexpected happened. Granddad said, “You should be more careful with your food.” Wiped the beans off and left the table. He left because he did not want us to hear him laughing (maybe he just did not want us to see him laughing, because we heard him as he had only gone into the kitchen. Years later Grandmother Aberdeen (Evadine until Mary renamed her and it stuck) Aberdeen recalled the incident (Grandad was deceased) and that Granddad knew it was Mary, but she was just too pretty and cute to scold and the fact her face went crimson red before she blamed it on me — that was what made him laugh. He did return to the table sans beans and resumed his role as God (at least in their house and when he was flying. Grandmother said it was “God” with a small g, but even she was not sure. To the Weikle children it was definitely “G”!
Boy, did I digress. I cannot say a day goes by that I do not remember Mary because there is a lot of humor in this world to remind me of her beautiful smile and sometimes wicked laugh. But, Tom came into her life when she needed him. They had only been dating a short while when the C diagnosis first came. Mary was being very honest when she told him that she would understand if he did not want to continue as all she could do at the moment was just cry. His response “We will cry together then!” And, they laughed a lot in between during the entire struggle. When the final diagnosis came in, Mom and Grandmother moved in to help with Mary. Mom often confided at how Tom had been the whipping post when she vented her frustration over Mary’s worsening condition, but never said an unkind word to her in return. She so loved him for everything he did to make Mary happy. Even when it was fairly certain Mary would not be driving a car much longer, she had mentioned how much she liked a red Mazda coupe she had seen. Even though finances had been stretched to the limit as Tom had neglected his work to be with her and handle everything else, he bought “Ruby Red” and it made her happy, and that was all Tom ever tried to do. And, why we (your Aunts and Uncles) love him so much, he is our brother (he cannot escape).
And, then Joan came into your life. I did not know that they had both taken such care to bring her into our family. But, as you knew, Grannie Betty loved her from the start. She could not have imagined anyone other than Joan filling the void for Tom and you and Carl, and how she never forced acceptance on you or Carl, she just cared for you in every way possible from all that we could see. And, Grannie Betty saw her as her surrogate daughter and really appreciated more than mere words can express, how she kept you and Carl in her life (all our lives) and travelled long hours to attend our family functions to keep you in our loop of insanity, laughter and, mostly love. Yes, we were all vey much blessed by having both of them come into your lives and ours. We never once worried about you and Carl having the parental love in your life that Mary wanted so much for you to have after she could no longer be with you. Your post presented the rest of the story. Thank you so much for sharing it! Love, Uncle Mike