From Ashes

As a child I absolutely adored my Mother.  I looked so much like her that people in our small town called me "Little Paulette."  I thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world. I was shy, but she could talk to anyone in any situation.  I wanted to be just like her.  We often went on trips to Oahu and even to California, just the two of us. We were best friends, two peas in our own pod.  I always thought we would be that close.


I was 10 when my parents got divorced.  It ripped everything I thought I knew about family apart.  A few months after their divorce was final I went to temporarily live with my Grandparents.  Not long after my Mom met someone new and remarried and I stayed with my Grandparents.

I don't want to go into too much detail about that time period, because we both have our own sides of the story (which are equally valid and extremely painful).  But by the time I graduated from high school our relationship was strained at best.  I had lived with my Grandparents for seven years at that point and I felt like they were my parents.  The closeness I once shared with my Mom was a long lost memory. (I did see her very often, but we barely spoke.)

I moved away to college with a lot of resentment in my heart.  We not only saw each other less (because I now lived 500 miles away) but our interactions were painful.  They often included angry emails sent back and forth as well as few and far between forced phone calls.  At this point I considered my Grama to be my Mother and was all but "done" with my non-existent relationship with the woman who had given me life.

I called my Grama every single day when I lived on Oahu.  She was my person.  She constantly tried to find ways for my Mom and I to get along.  She would often cry to me about how we needed to get over it and try to have a real relationship.  Every night when she said her prayers she would pray for us.

We had this kind of relationship for over a decade.  By the time I moved to Washington I didn't even want to try anymore.  There was so much pain contained in those years. I couldn't let go and I couldn't forgive her.  My stubborn heart & pride did not allow me to believe we could have anything better.  What could we possibly have left to offer one another?

Then Ayden was born. After I had him the uneasy feeling of not having a real relationship with my own Mom was unbelievably difficult to overcome.  I just wanted to move on- with or without her.

We didn't have any semblance of a normal mother daughter relationship at this point.  But it wasn't because she wasn't willing to try, it was because my heart wasn't ready.  So she waited... patiently, with an open heart until I came to her.  We had some very honest conversations about the things that happened, the ways we felt shunned by each other and the anger and hurt we held onto for all those years in between.  My Mom acknowledged my pain and apologized.  But the genuine, heart felt apology I thought I  was waiting for all those years didn't come the way I had anticipated.

I needed to forgive not only her but myself. And I needed her forgiveness as well.

We didn't immediately become  friends.  But for the first time in so many years I could imagine a place beyond the hurt and see a future where maybe we wouldn't feel like enemies.

I cannot pin point the exact turning spot (it most certainly did not happen overnight).  We worked at it.  We made phone calls, we sent emails and pictures.  We opened our hearts to what we had both wanted all along but were too hurt to pursue.

It's been almost ten years since we started to repair what I thought was lost forever.  I am beyond proud to say that today I couldn't imagine not having her as my ally, my sounding board and one of my very best friends.

I know it may seem impossible that we could have what we have  now.  But let me tell you, forgiveness is the best gift I ever gave myself.  Not only did I lighten my hearts' load, but I was given the priceless gift of my Mom back.

So you see, not everything that dies is dead.

At the end of 2014 when my Grama took her last breath, it was no coincidence that the people she chose to share that last most precious moment with were my Mom and I.  There was no one else in the room, just 3 generations of women who my Grama fought hard to keep together.

In the time since her death my Mom has stepped up, not to fill my Grama's shoes, but to continue her legacy.

Mom,
Grama would be so proud of the woman you have become.  Generous with the most precious gifts of all: your love and time. Any time something happens in my life, whether good or bad, I know I can count on you.  I had amazing Grandparents.  Now, my kids are lucky enough to have that with you too.  I couldn't wish for anything more and I am so happy that Grama kept faithful in her prayers for us all those hard years. I love you.

If it doesn't exist...

For months I have been thinking about this... hoping somehow the platform I felt like I needed would just appear out of thin air.

A few weeks ago I finally told my F.H. that I wished I had some place to talk about the issues that are important and of interest to me: parenting, grief, the mind-body connection, writing, marriage and my love for all things beauty.  While I was talking to him I realized what he would say before I was even done (and if you know my husband you know how hard working he is and how if something doesn't exist he will create it).  If you think that what you want will magically fall into your lap, you are wrong.

I don't know why I always seem to think that it will, but I definitely believe that something will just "happen" at the right moment.  But as much as I believe in that I know for a fact that that shit is few and far between.  So instead of sitting here silently wishing this existed I told myself:  "If it doesn't exist: make it!"

A personal downfall of mine is my ability to come up with many excuses of why I can't do things.  (seriously if I spent half as much time actually doing shit instead of thinking about all the reasons I can't I would be super productive)  I am a HUGE procrastinator.  I can work really hard once I get the ball in motion, but finding the motivation to get off my ass and do something is the hardest part.  I'm lazy.  I like naps.

I am time rich, but am not really doing anything to propel my life further.  I am that way though, when I have too much of something I generally take it for granted.  I have always, for as long as I can remember, wanted to be a writer.  If blogs and shit existed when I was a tween/teenager I would have thousands and thousands of posts by now.  Now it seems like since all this is so easily accessible I fight with myself to write the "right" things... the things that people will want to read.  But there are so many stories in my heart that my fingers can barely keep up these days.

So, duh, Tari, the platform you need to talk about all the issues you love is HERE.  And let's be extra cliche and say "If you write it, they will read."  LOL.  Well, hopefully.  But if I don't write it than no one will read it, right?

So... here I am creating my own informal platform to talk about all the shit that runs through my head on the daily, the things I struggle with, the people that are most important to me and how to get through life in spite of all the voices in my head that tell me I can't.  (and to be clear I don't hear ACTUAL voices, but you know what I mean.)

I'm tired of excuses and I'm tired of waiting for these good things to happen to me.  I constantly say that I wish I had half the work ethic F.H. does.  He has so much ambition and doesn't waste time.  I really admire that about him. I always wished I could be like him, but since that doesn't come naturally I haven't ever really been inclined to you know, just do the work.

So... here I am, actually jumping into this writing adventure.  No more excuses and no more stopping myself from doing what I love.  Stay tuned, my friends.