Milo and Mario went to a few hikes. I can't remember the details. This is their friend Graham Patch.
For Mother’s Day, I bought myself a sewing machine, which I haven’t actually been able to use because Milo has taken it over. I took this photo wearing the black dress before heading to my dear friend Sheila Privet’s funeral.
Sheila was my pal. I still have a hard time believing she is gone. I think she was around 80 years old, but her death was so sudden that it left me completely shaken. She had been experiencing some pain, was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, and within two weeks, she was gone. Just like that. I was so traumatized. I don’t think I have ever been this deeply affected by someone’s passing. I wasn't mentally prepared.
I keep thinking about our walks, the afternoons I would spend at her house venting about life, and the comfort of having someone I could just be myself around. She was a hardcore Trump supporter, and we certainly didn’t see eye to eye on everything. But somehow, none of that mattered when it came to our friendship. We connected in a way that transcended our differences. She was my friend, my confidante, my pal. And I loved her dearly.
After her funeral, I went for a walk that afternoon. I remember thinking about Sheila lying in her casket, buried, while the rest of the world continued as if nothing had happened. People went about their day. Life kept moving. And it struck me how incredibly short and fragile our existence is.
I started thinking about my own mortality. If I were to die, people would mourn me for a week, maybe longer. They would cry, remember me, share stories, and eventually return to their lives. The world would keep turning. The people who once occupied so much of my thoughts, the people whose opinions hurt me, the people I spent so much energy trying to please or understand, would all continue living their lives.
And one day, I too will be in a casket. Alone. No one will be inside there with me. No one can take my worries, my disappointments, my conflicts, or the opinions of others into that grave. At the end of it all, it will just be me. That thought was both heartbreaking and strangely liberating.
Why do I allow other people to affect my peace so much? Why do I waste precious time trying to change people, seeking their approval, or carrying the weight of their opinions? Why do we spend so much of our lives worrying about things that, in the grand scheme of our existence, will mean so little?
Sheila and I were proof that two people can see the world very differently and still love each other deeply. Her friendship reminded me that connection matters far more than being right. I wish I had more walks with her. More afternoons at her house. More opportunities to tell her how much she meant to me.I miss my pal.
Her death reminded me that life is fleeting. We are here for such a short time. I want to spend whatever time I have left living more freely, loving more deeply, protecting my peace, and caring a little less about what other people think. Because when my time comes, I will be the only person inside that casket. And I want to know that while I was here, I truly lived.
Life and relationships are complicated. Sometimes, the people we have loved the longest are also the people who have challenged us the most. I know I am not perfect, and I have my own flaws, but I have always believed that love, loyalty, and compassion should extend beyond the circumstances of a relationship.
Even after 23 years of marriage and everything that has happened, I still find myself showing up when Jared needs me. Recently, when he hurt his back and could barely move, I went to check on him. I spent the night sleeping on the floor beside him because I couldn't physically lift him. The next morning, I went to pick up his pain medication. When things became worse, I finally called 911. I stayed with him at the hospital, advocated for him, and eventually brought him to my house, where I took care of him for the next two days.I realize that this kind of care and consideration is not necessarily reciprocal, and that's okay. I don't show up for people because I expect something in return. I do it because of the person I am and the values I hold.
I have learned that you can walk away from a marriage and still care deeply about the person. You can choose yourself without becoming indifferent to someone else's suffering. You can acknowledge the difficulties of a relationship while still honoring the history and the humanity of the person you once loved.
Mario talking at church about his dad. Milo wearing his new suit. I took Jared to eat with the boys to celebrate Father's Day and we got him a pizza oven. Jared's grandma passed away in New Mexico. Mario and Milo went to a concert with some friends. Mario singing with the church's choir.
I have been using ChatGPT to decorate my house. I also used it to designed the landscape for Jared's new house. I gave it to Francisco (He is my super gardener) and he just did all the work. Jared's house looks amazing on the outside too.
For the 4th of July, Jared took the boys to New Mexico. I stayed home. I went to two parties : Sheilas Rholetters party in centerville and at Diane's Orcutt in my neighhood. I later came home a got in the pool with my dogs.
