Death defines us.

When you have a parent die, it is indescribable. You go through these roller coaster of emotions. At first, it's like a thrill ride, constantly up and down, and eventually, after a while, it all slows down. The ups and downs are still there, just simply more spaced out.

One thing that has occurred to throughout all of this is that I never knew what kind of man my father was until his passing. Over 500 (500!) people came to his funeral. It was standing room only. All because at some point or another, he had carried them to work, bought them a meal, been a good boss or a friendly neighbor...just an all around good ol' boy always willing to lend a hand. He also had no problem putting people in their place if they weren't doing right by others.  I might have been able to say I'm pretty sure my dad was a good man while he was alive, but now that he's gone, I can definitely say he was a good man.

And then it occurred to me. It was the same with Jesus. People could say while he was alive, "we're pretty sure He's the messiah" but after His death and resurrection, people could definitely say "HE IS the messiah."

Not saying my dad was like Jesus, I'm just drawing the parallel that it was only in death, each man's life got definition. And maybe that is what death is, that last judgement, that ending point that gives each of our lives meaning. We'll spend our whole lives trying to figure out who we are and who God wants us to be only to know at the moment of death.

That's really the first time I've contemplated God or something spiritual in the past three months.

I'm still upset and disappointed at Him. I've been known to be a little begrudging, and surely God knew something like this was going to make me a spiritual zombie. I know it can't be healthy, but work out your salvation with fear and trembling, right?

An Open Letter to My Future Husband

I've been reading a lot of self-help single Catholic gal books, specifically, this one.

And one thing I read that really helps is the idea of writing letters to my future husband, even though I may or may not have met him. I like the idea of all of them piling up and handing them to him on our wedding day before the ceremony just to show him how ardently, how truly, I have loved him and how long I've waited. So I've been writing. I'm not going to share every letter, but this is one I decided I would.

My dear husband,

I feel like I get to know you more every day, even though I've never met you. Is that weird? Is this how it's supposed to work? I feel like by going on all these bad dates and learning what kind of person I am, I am somehow learning who you are too.

You'll be smart, intelligent, and witty. You like studying and will know I'm smart and like good, interesting conversation, but you'll also realize that I don't much care to make myself an academic, though you might be one yourself. You'll respect this difference. In fact, you'll even like it and welcome it.

You'll be polite and hold open doors for me, even though I can hold them open for myself and will let me do it for myself when I want. You'll acknowledge my independent streak, but you'll know when I want and need help.

You'll be my sunshine.  You'll remind me of how good my life is even when I think the world is going to Hell in a hand basket, especially if I'm going through a bout of depression. You'll realize I'm a tad bit dramatic at times about life because of my condition, but you'll know how to deal with me in patience and love.

You'll be holy, and you'll hold me accountable for praying every day, and you will hold my hand during mass. We'll talk about things we read or see or hear, and we'll grow in our faith together.

You are who I want. You are who I dream of. You are the one I am waiting for. And sometimes, when I think about that, it makes me cry, that I already love you so much, but I don't even know you.

I love you, and I'm waiting for you. Come find me.

-V.

(I just can't keep) Hanging On

Sometimes, I write stuff. 

And then I delete it. 

And then re-write it.

And then I finally just think to myself, "Darling, you are absolutely mental."

And then I post I video that sums up how I really feel.

Because I'm too ashamed to talk about specifics, so I'll only speak vaguely. 

Because this shouldn't bother me, but it does. 

So there.