My best friend is gone

March 1, 2016

Murphy goodbye

Waves of grief and gratitude have crashed down on me over the last several days. Yet I looked into her eyes and I knew she understood and that we would both be ok.

Like every soul-shaking loss I’ve endured in life, I just need time. Time does not heal, but it helps soften the blow…a little bit…day by day.

I’m normally frustrated by my mind. I have an awful memory. But in times like this, I need to wrap myself up in my natural tendency to forget the details over time like it’s a security blanket protecting me from painful flashbacks for which I am not prepared.

Trying to stop the tears proves as futile as trying to hold onto her forever.

Sixteen years. I was blessed to have my pug, Murphy, in my life…and in my family’s life…for 16 whole years. She started off with just me and Ryan. Throughout the course of her lifetime, she gained a brotha-from-anotha-mother canine companion named Eightball (who passed away on June 3, 2010 and now waits for me on this side of the Rainbow Bridge) as well as two human brothers (now 14 and 12 years old) and a human sister (now 7 years old).

My kids have never known life without her. Hell, it’s hard for ME to remember life without her…and even harder to imagine life moving forward without her.

It is clear to me that my heart has a tendency to latch onto and love those who snore the loudest: My grandma Peterson, Murphy, and Ryan.

(I’m doing my best to remember to laugh.)

She was not in pain. She simply had finished her journey here. She was tired. I am a lot to take care of, after all.

Dogs love with every bone in their body. I know they’re not for everyone and I never try to convince a non-dog person that they should change their mind. What I will say is “think of something in your life that you love so much that it’s incomparable to anything else.” That’s how my dogs have made me feel over the years. I couldn’t ever fully pay back their love, but I tried.

I could rehash 1,000 stories about Murphy, but I feel like pictures reveal more than any words ever could.

My best friend is gone. But not forgotten. And I have to believe that one day I will see her again.

October 4, 1999 – March 1, 2016

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Written by Heidi Woodard

In Experience, Friendship, Loss, Love, Memories, Pets, Reflection , , , , ,
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This is the stuff love songs are written about

February 11, 2016

Our friends would all make fun of us
And we’d just laugh along because we’d know
That none of them have felt this way
Delilah, I can promise you
That by the time that we get through
The world will never ever be the same
And you’re to blame – Hey There Delilah

Innocent love. Crushies (as my daughter would say). Is there anything more pure and fun to observe and feel in our overly cynical world?

I started blogging back in 2009. I’ve shared many stories over the last several years, but one of my favorites is not something I crafted in my mind and completed with a punctuation mark, but instead continues to grow in front of my very own eyes with an ending that has yet to be defined.

I’m just lucky to be able to sit back and watch it unfold.

My daughter is now 7. She was not yet 3 years old when she first noticed Parker at preschool. And Parker noticed her.

Parker and Jaycee 1

Jaycee and Parker

photo (16)

 

Parker’s mom and I were equally tickled by their budding relationship. We soon learned that they would find secret hiding spots on the playground, places of solitude to share their innermost ideas and trade kisses on each other’s cheeks…which they were both told was not approved behavior on more than one occasion.

Their teachers were very much in-the-know about what was going on between the pint-sized pair and would report daily to Parker’s mom and me about our children’s ongoing fascination with one another.

We both sort of assumed that they, like so many relationships before them, would grow older and their memories of one other would fade as quickly as their toddler denim jeans.

I detailed their ongoing courtship in these two posts.

photo (15)photo (17)photo (18)

The time came for Parker and Jaycee to say goodbye and head their separate ways to two different elementary schools for kindergarten.

I think Parker’s mom and I were sadder about this reality than they were. I guess they always knew, unlike us, that a good thing was worth holding onto…despite the distance.

In kindergarten, Parker took his dad’s old class ring and sent a text message proposal (from his mom to me) to his favorite girl.

photo (14)

When I showed it to Jaycee, she accepted. And smiled a whole lot.

Parker has surprised her the last two Valentine’s Days with gifts of affection.

Jaycee Valentines Day

Parker and Jaycee

After all these years of him treating her so nicely and not forgetting about his first true love in spite of this crazy world we live in…guys…seriously…I’m not even joking…

I don’t know what I’m going to do if these two DON’T get married!

I mean, after college and several years of living on their own and discovering what they truly want out of life of course (wink).

Parker, you’ll always have a special place in not only my daughter’s heart, but mine as well.

Written by Heidi Woodard

In childhood, Friendship, Just for Fun, Kids, Love, Memories , ,
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A youth athlete’s hour glass life

February 9, 2016

“Even children get older and I’m getting older too.” – Stevie Nicks, Landslide

People, we are ALL getting older. No matter where you’re currently at in your life – in your prime, or struggling to find purpose, or on a journey of self-discovery, or feeling overwhelmed, or daydreaming, or suffering, or goal setting, or swimming in circles, or soaking in the sunrise and sunset – I think it’s critical to remember that this time too shall pass.

None of us can escape the realization that this life too shall pass.

The years between when a child first picks up a ball out of curiosity to the time when he makes his last play in competition, that moment too shall pass.

So why do we, as adults, overly complicate the experience?

hour glass memories

I believe that a youth athlete’s hour glass life should look something like this. For the record, I’m defining “youth” as anywhere between 4-12 years old.

I realize many of you are in awe right now at my mad graphic design skills. Hopefully the point still comes across.

There should definitely be a cross (or some representation of a belief bigger than them), a lot of books, some play things, several musical instruments, drawing or writing utensils, and other forms of self-expression in there too.

I suppose there would also be more technological gadgets and gaming devices than I can even name…half of which will be considered new-to-market before I even finish this post.

What shouldn’t be included in a youth athlete’s hour glass life are crazy adults, unrealistic expectations, feelings of inadequacy, screaming parents, overwhelming pressure, or recruiters.

Leave that for high school.

I only half kid about that last statement based on what I’ve witnessed from the stands.

Parents, I implore you. This time too shall pass. How do you want them to remember it?

As I state on GiveTheGameBack.com, kids must learn how to win graciously and lose humbly. Adults must learn how to level set expectations. Because, at the end of their playing days, every athlete should feel pride in what they’ve accomplished, not shame for what never was.

Written by Heidi Woodard

In childhood, Competition, Kids, Sports, Youth Sports , ,
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