Category / loss

by Kelly Mattei

Don’t Pick Up the Shoes

Don’t pick up the shoes.

I saw a Facebook post today on a page called Alabama News and Comment. It’s a page from the news division of Alabama’s Radio Station, 101.9 Fox-FM. It appears to be a station out of Birmingham. Don’t ask me how I got to the page, because I have no idea. It was one of many squirrels my brain chased today. And this time, I ended up on Alabama News and Comment, reading a piece about a woman picking up her husband’s shoes. You can see it on Facebook here.

My husband picks up his own shoes, so I don’t think I have ever had to pick them up for him, but it made me think of my parents.

My parents were married for 45 years before my Daddy died. He was young, just 68, and died of pancreatic cancer. Many times, though, during his retirement years, he would take off his shoes in the living room and leave them underneath the coffee table. I’m guessing he usually carried his own shoes to the closet, but it was something I never gave any attention at the time.

And then, in 2006, Daddy died.

We did what families do. We supported each other for a few days, and then my little family returned to Charlotte to resume our lives. We settled back into real life. About a month later, I decided we needed to go visit Mother; she’d had time to rest and recuperate after months of caring for Daddy, and I thought she needed company.

Upon arrival at my parents’ home, I saw Mother standing outside waiting for us, but I didn’t see Daddy. Of course, I didn’t see him, because he had passed away a month before, but his absence hit me hard. I got out of the car with tears streaming down my face, and Mother said, “I should have warned you how difficult your first visit back would be…your first visit without him here.” She knew, because she had lost her own Daddy. It had never occurred to me how the absence of Daddy would take my breath away. But it did.

We all went inside and sat down in the living room, and that’s when I saw Daddy’s shoes under the coffee table. I looked at them, and I looked at Mother. Her eyes met mine. I didn’t even have to say anything. She simply said, “I can’t move them.” I cried again, but I understood. Seeing those shoes where Daddy left them likely made her feel a little like he was still there. It was a small way of tricking her brain into feeling like Daddy was still there…a comfort. As I read the piece on Facebook today, my brain went straight to that time, and I thought, “One day you might want to see his shoes in the living room.”

Life is like that. Sometimes the things we never think we will miss are the very things we miss…or even the things we find comfort in. When our daughter was a toddler and didn’t sleep well, many times I would have to go upstairs and lie down with her. My husband and I shared a doctor at the time (a mistake I won’t make again in this lifetime), and when he was at the doctor, he mentioned it in passing to “our” doctor. The next time I was there, she opted to lecture me about how bad that was for me and for our daughter. It angered me greatly, because frankly, I thought it was none of her business, and soon thereafter, I found another doctor. What did I know that the doctor didn’t know? I knew we all parent differently, and I knew myself far better than she knew me. I knew, in my infinite wisdom, that one day, I would be sad when my daughter didn’t want me around as much. Was it a little inconvenient for me to spend a half hour upstairs helping our daughter get to sleep? Yes, but I loved every minute. And guess what…she’s a freshman in college now who doesn’t need me to help her get to sleep. *Many times, I have wondered what kind of communication that doctor has with her own children…if she has the same great relationship with hers that I have with mine. I actually feel sorry for her and for her children. I know mine trusts me, and some of that trust might just go back to those nights she needed me to be there while she fell asleep.*

If my daddy’s death taught me anything, it taught me that life is not a dress rehearsal. We have to live now and enjoy the little things. When our daughter was a toddler, I would pick her up and carry her in my arms any time she wanted. My friend, Jennifer, and I believed (since we had only children) we should do that, because one day we wouldn’t get to carry them anymore. We wouldn’t know when it was the last time, so we did it every time. No, I don’t remember the last time I carried her, but I know I carried her on my back multiple times after she became too heavy to carry in my arms. And if she asked me to carry her today (she’s 19), I would. You can bet on that.

And as much as it annoys me that my husband can’t resist the urge to open the curtains on the window on my side of the bed, I know that, if something happened to him, I’d likely miss having to go close those curtains when my side of the room starts to heat up from the sunlight.

Enjoy the little things…even the little annoyances.

by Kelly Mattei

This,Too, Shall Pass

This, too, shall pass.

It is a reminder that we are likely to move beyond problems or things that bother us…that the only constant is change. It was a phrase my mother lived by. Since her passing, one of her dear friends (who is also my friend) has offered up this gentle reminder to me on a regular basis, always adding my mother’s initials behind it or saying “a wise person once told me…”

It is meaningful throughout life, but I find it is especially meaningful in dealing with my college-age daughter and her friends. Sometimes, things that happen in their lives seem like a big deal to them, but we, as older, more experienced adults, know things will get better, and the current situation will be long forgotten.

Those four words, “This, too, shall pass,” can be applied in lots of different instances…especially short-term annoyances…most illnesses, most disagreements, homesickness, heartbreak, or an unexpected difficult setback…and many more.

I went online to do a little research on the saying and found that Abraham Lincoln used a longer version of it in a speech at the Wisconsin State Fair in Milwaukee before he was elected President of the United States. According to abrahamlincolnonline.org, he recounted a tale of an Eastern monarch:

It is said an Eastern monarch once charged his wise men to invent him a sentence, to be ever in view, and which should be true and appropriate in all times and situations. They presented him the words: “And this, too, shall pass away.” How much it expresses! How chastening in the hour of pride! How consoling in the depths of affliction!

I especially love Lincoln’s observation…”How much it expresses! How chastening in the hour of pride! How consoling in the depths of affliction.”

Somewhere along the way, it became, “This, too, shall pass.” Words to live by, I suppose. Throughout my own life, because I heard it from my mother, and because I have the good fortune of still hearing it from her friend, I have found comfort in those four words. Or sometimes, I have been reminded to check myself! When my daughter was an infant and would not nap, I was exhausted all the time. Many times, I had to remind myself, “This, too, shall pass.” But even in good times, when she was snuggled up to me as an infant, I also had to remind myself that she wouldn’t want to do that forever. It helped me live in the moment.

Even as we enjoyed the glow of our home after our daughter arrived home for the Thanksgiving break yesterday, I had to remind myself that the moment would pass. She was excited to be home. She was excited to eat her favorite foods. She was excited to talk with us. We are still enjoying every moment, but tomorrow, she is going to visit a friend at another university for a couple of days before coming home for a few days and then, returning to her own university. This great joy we are experiencing is short-lived. It is a reminder to live in the moment!

The sadness we will experience after she leaves? Well, that will pass too, as soon as she calls us to share a funny story from school. We will still miss her, of course, but we will rejoice in her happiness, just as we suffer in her pain…like all good parents. Our daughter is a piece of our hearts living outside our bodies…we tend to feel what she feels. Its true empathy. I truly believe my own empathy grew after having my daughter…not just for her, but for others. But that’s a discussion for another day.

Now, I find myself sharing those words of wisdom with my daughter on a regular basis. Spending extra time studying for a difficult class? This, too, shall pass. Homesickness? This, too, shall pass. Freshman joy? This, too, shall pass. (Live in the moment.) Heartbreak? This, too, shall pass. Extreme sadness or happiness? This, too, shall pass. Even confusion about her own emotions…this, too, shall pass.

The only constant is change.

Personally, I tell myself “this, too, shall pass” on a regular basis. Even after each of my parents died, I knew the grief would never go away, but the immediate feelings of hopelessness would pass. The loneliness would pass. Eventually, good memories would take over. And I was right.

As the holidays approach, I find it especially meaningful. There are lots of emotions that accompany this time of year, not just for me, but for lots of people. I feel a sense of loss, because my parents are no longer here, and I lost my mother during the holidays. I also feel a sense of joy, knowing we will have our daughter under our roof for a while. Enjoy the good times as much as possible, because the high is temporary. Weather the bad ones…hang in there long enough, they will pass too.

Both emotions are temporary…

Even though she has been gone for five years, my mother’s four words still resonate in my mind, “This, too, shall pass.” They even helped me when I was deep in grief after she passed. Thankful for a sweet mom who shared her wisdom with me.

*

by Kelly Mattei

A Bad Day Turned Good

A bad day turned good.

Today was the fourth anniversary of my mother’s passing. We all grieve in different ways, but for me, anniversaries like this can be tough. I dread it every year, and today, I cried several times. But they were not tears of sadness. They were tears of joy. It turned out to be a good day!

I managed to sleep last night, which is quite a feat in itself, because in the past, on this day, I have found myself awake most of the night. So I slept through the night…a good thing…a gift.

I awoke this morning at 8:00, when my husband brought me coffee in bed. He does that every morning, and it’s the perfect way to start the day. I’m a much happier wife, and he has a much happier life because of that first cup of coffee.

Soon thereafter, one of my favorite friends came over for a cup of coffee. Yes, I was getting caffeinated, but I had a headache, anyway, and caffeine helps the migraine meds kick in faster. My friend came in, and we sat and talked for over an hour before she had to go. It was a great way to start the day…we are good therapy for each other. We have been friends for more than 16 years, so we understand each other. Good friends are hard to find, and I definitely found a good one in this one…a gift.

After she left, I finally decided to get a shower and get dressed for the day. I knew I would feel better if I put on “real clothes,” instead of the comfy clothes I tend to wear around the house. So after I got out of the shower, I decided to put on a red shirt…color makes me feel happier. And because I was going to have cocktails with friends later, I wanted to wear some festive, happy earrings. I have some “statement” earrings I haven’t worn in quite some time, but I thought they would be perfect. Because they are large, I keep them in their own box, so I got out the box and found a surprise! Several months ago, I misplaced some treasured pearl earrings my husband gave me soon after we married. I was heartbroken when I realized it, and I turned my bedroom/closet/bathroom upside down looking for them, to no avail. I had to put it out of my mind and put it behind me, because thinking about the missing earrings stressed me out. But today, when I opened the “statement” earring box, I found the pearl earrings right there with them! Oh, I was so excited that I cried tears of joy! I know it will sound silly to some, but I felt like my mother, on the fourth anniversary of her passing, had delivered me a gift.

Later, at 2:00 in the afternoon, I went to a friend’s house. She had invited me over for holiday-ish cocktails. Last year, we had cocktails on my driveway, because of the pandemic, and she brought edible shot glasses she had made from chocolate and cookie dough. And because we had so much fun with it, she decided to do it again this year! Some good fun on the anniversary of my mother’s death, and to top it off, we put Bailey’s Irish Creme in the shot glasses…my mother’s favorite. My friend had purchased it just for the occasion. Most of the time, I pick good friends, and I picked this one 11 or 12 years ago. She’s a keeper…a gift.

Afterward, I came home just in time to greet my nephew and his girlfriend when they arrived to spend the weekend with us…a gift in itself. It’s always fun when they come to town, but this time, they brought boxes of pictures from my mother’s house…two giant Rubbermaid tubs of photos!

Before we could go through the photos, my husband and I walked down to a neighbor’s house to have cocktails in celebration of his retirement…another gift…great neighbors. We are very fortunate to have lots of people around us who are good people. It was fun visiting with them, and it was nice to see the new retiree so happy.

After we got home…late in the evening, we had the best times going through the photos from the Rubbermaid tubs…laughing as I told family stories to my nephew and his girlfriend. And near the bottom of the box was a mini cassette recorder. We opened it and found a cassette inside, so we decided to replace the batteries and find out what was on the tape…and what a gift it was! It took me a while to figure out that it was recorded in the fall of 2000, when we all met in Panama City, Florida, for my cousin’s wedding. It started with one of my nephews, who were almost three years old at the time, singing into into the recorded. And the recorder was left on after that, so I could hear us all laughing and talking for about twenty minutes…in 2000! What an incredible gift! My mother’s voice! My daddy’s voice! My daddy and my brother playing with my nephews! And all of us laughing! What a joy! It was like a visit with my parents…a gift!

Also, near the bottom of the box, I found an envelope that contained a photo of a group of women. It also contained a list of names and addresses, and I finally figured out it was from a reunion of my mother’s nursing school class. Apparently, she didn’t attend the reunion, but someone had sent her all the info afterward. I scanned the list and recognized a few names, and then I saw a last name that was familiar. It was the same last name as the married name of a friend from college. I texted her and asked if she was related to the woman. She replied, “That’s my mother-in-law. I’m almost afraid to ask why.” I explained that her mother-in-law went to nursing school with my mother! Small world! Another connection made…a gift.

So yes, the fourth anniversary of my mother’s passing was a good day. I went to bed happy, knowing my mother had sent me gifts and memories. It was a bad day turned good.

Maybe I should have purchased a lottery ticket.

by Kelly Mattei

Love, Loss, and the Holidays

Love, loss, and the holidays.

Last night, I received a call from my dear friend, Jane. When I answered the phone, I knew immediately something was wrong. She was crying, and she said through her tears that someone had died, but I didn’t understand her the first time she said it. Painfully, I had to ask her to repeat it. And when she did, I cried too. I didn’t know the gentleman who had passed away, but I knew of him, and I knew him to be a good soul…a good friend to Jane. I also know she had inadvertently made a connection between him and a lady she knows just a few months ago. She had introduced them through some work she was doing, and a great friendship formed immediately.

His new lady friend was with him when he fell ill. She called 911 immediately and called a mutual friend who was a doctor, and they got him to the hospital as quickly as they could, but he didn’t make it.

When Jane was telling me about what had happened, she said, “I just needed to call you, because I need you to say something that will make it OK.” Jane is a close family friend. She knew my mother, who passed away four years ago, and she knows that somehow, my mother always knew the right thing to say to make someone feel better. She knew what to say to bring peace to a situation. Hopefully, with age, I will develop that gift, but I certainly don’t feel like I have it now. I simply said to Jane, “This won’t make it OK, but you can thank the Lord that you introduced those two and they were able to enjoy each other’s company for the past couple of months. You can know he [the gentleman who passed] spent the last couple of months engaging in good conversation and having fun with his new friend.” It was all I knew to say. I don’t know that it helped my friend in the moment, but it really does warm my heart that he got to spend his final months with a special lady…someone who is near and dear to Jane, and therefore, near and dear to me. I can’t name names, but all of these wonderful people are oddly connected…people you wouldn’t think belong together as friends, but somehow, they do.

Jane later told me the gentleman told her a few days ago that his new friend (the one Jane introduced him to) had helped him learn how to live for the Lord. Maybe that’s why they were brought together. I told Jane that is what should make her feel better…knowing she brought them together.

December is a tough month for a lot of people…including me. I lost my mother on December 30, 2017. She had fallen ill on Christmas Eve and never recovered, but Jane was with me every day at the hospital while Mother was lingering. I miss Mother every day, and especially this time of year. Sadly, both my grandmothers died on December 26, in different years, but still…same day. My daddy didn’t die in December, but he had his first obvious symptoms of pancreatic cancer in December 2005 and died the following October.

So while December is a joyous time, it’s also tough for people who have lost loved ones during the year. It’s tough for those of us who have painful memories. Yes, I have lots of good December memories too, but I’ll never forget all the terrible phone calls I have received in various Decembers.

I will give a few extra hugs on into the new year. I will try to think of those friends and family who have experienced loss. Some of those friends are experiencing their first holiday season without a loved one. There’s not anything we can say to “make it OK,” but there are things we can do to ease the pain a little. Hugs go a long way, and they are almost always welcome and appreciated.

by Kelly Mattei

Truly Scrumptious

Truly Scrumptious.

Anyone who has ever seen Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, the film based on the Ian Fleming novel, knows who Truly Scrumptious is. Played by the late Sally Ann Howes, the character becomes the love interest of Caractacus Potts, played by Dick Van Dyke. When I was a little girl, I thought Truly Scrumptious was beautiful…and she was.

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang is, quite possibly, my favorite film of all time. Well, that and Mary Poppins, which also happened to star Mr. Van Dyke. I loved both films then, and I love both films now…and the soundtracks! I feel sure I wore out both LPs on my record player as a child. In fact, I have both soundtracks on But the first time I went to the movie theater to see Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, I didn’t see the whole movie. I was a little girl, and we were visiting our cousins in Florida. I’m not sure how old I was…three or four? My mother took a bunch of us to the theater in downtown Marianna, Florida, but I think she spent half the movie outside on the sidewalk with me. The child catcher in the movie terrified me, and being a particularly strong-willed child (imagine!), I refused to sit through the movie. Later, when I was eight or nine, I grew to love the movie, but even then, the child catcher scared me…not enough to make me leave the room when he appeared, but he scared me…much like the flying monkeys in The Wizard of Oz and the Sleestaks in Land of the Lost. If you know, you know.

I have a favorite scene in CCBB…the doll scene near the end of the movie in which Caractacus Potts and Truly Scrumptious, disguised as dolls, begin their rescue of the children. Oh, I still find the scene glorious! You can see it here.

Fast forward more than 35 years, and I had a daughter of my own. When she was two or three, I introduced her to Chitty Chitty Bang Bang via DVD, and she fell in love with the movie. This was a child who had no interest in animated movies like Cinderella, Bambi, or The Fox and The Hound…but she loved Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. In fact, she wanted to watch it all the time. Specifically, she had a scene she loved. The doll scene? Nope. The flying car scene? Nope. My child loved the child catcher scene…the very scene that terrified me as a child…she found it hilarious! Who knew any child could find that hilarious?!?! But she did. And she wanted to see that scene over and over and over.

Since you know that, you won’t be surprised at all to know she found the Sleestaks in Land of the Lost hilarious. And the flying monkeys and wicked witch in The Wizard of Oz? Also hilarious. Wow…I had a brave child. Even as a little girl, she would laugh at the special effects in Land of the Lost and The Wizard of Oz. The charm of one of the greatest films ever made was completely lost on her, because the wicked witch and the flying monkeys were funny…not just funny, but hilarious. Nonetheless, she still enjoyed watching both, but Chitty Chitty Bang Bang was her favorite…we still talk about it.

So today, when I learned Ms. Howe, the actress who played Truly Scrumptious had passed away at 91, I was a little sad. Frankly, I hadn’t even investigated whether she were still alive or not. I guess I just assumed, incorrectly, that she had died, but I shouldn’t have. Apparently, she lived a long, full life. And even though I cannot name one other film she was in, she has a special place in my heart as Truly Scrumptious.

I haven’t had the chance to tell my daughter yet, but I will tell her soon, and hopefully, she will sit down and watch Chitty Chitty Bang Bang with me while we eat cake batter popcorn…just like old times. And I’ll drink a toast to Truly Scrumptious.

by Kelly Mattei

Motherhood

Motherhood.

I awoke at 3:00 this morning…wide awake. Taking a peek at the clock, I realized immediately it was my late mother’s birthday. And I couldn’t go back to sleep. The same thing happened to me on the first anniversary of her passing. I couldn’t sleep.

As I lay in bed, my brain started going crazy. That’s rare for me. I’m a person who can hit the pillow and fall asleep. Usually, when I wake up, I simply roll over and go back to sleep…many times a night, in fact. But this morning, at 3:00, I could not go back to sleep. I started thinking about my mother and how much she loved being a mother. Then I started thinking about how much I love being a mother. I truly believe it is the right job for me, and it’s certainly the single most important job I’ve ever done. I’ve certainly given it my all…just as I learned to do from my own mother, who gave us her all. She was a registered nurse by trade, but in her heart, what she always wanted to do was be a mom. And she was a damn good one. She would drop anything to help us or our friends. She made sure we were exposed to different cultures, different places, and different experiences. She volunteered at school and our extracurricular activities. She prepared meals and snacks for us and any of our friends who showed up at our house…all the time. Clearly, I did a lot of thinking last night.

After all that thinking, it occurred to me that our daughter will be a full-time resident of our home for less than a year. This time next year, she likely will be a few weeks into her first semester of college. It’s exciting for her, and it’s exciting for us. But until she goes off to college, I want to continue being a full-time mother, the best job in the world. I’m sure there are people out there who think it’s not important, but for me, absolutely nothing is more important.

And because I realized at that moment that my full-time mom career will be coming to an end when she goes to college, I needed to be closer to her. Sounds weird, but at that moment, I just needed to be “mommy” in the middle of the night again, so I went upstairs and crawled into bed with her. She stirred a little before rolling over and asking, “What are you doing here?” I explained how I was feeling, and she gave me a big hug and told me to stay the rest of the night. So I did. She intertwined her feet with mine like she did when she was a little girl, what we used to call “tucking in” her feet. She held my hand, more for my sake than her own, and we both fell fast asleep.

My own mother was always there for us in the middle of the night. Bad dream? I’d wake up Mother. Thirsty? I’d wake up Mother. Simply didn’t want to be the only one awake at night? I’d walk into her room and wake up Mother, asking her to go to the kitchen with me. We would sit there while I drank a little water. She likely had a cup of coffee…yes, she drank coffee in the middle of the night. It wasn’t that I needed water…I really just needed my mother. Last night, I guess I just needed to be a mother.

For years, our daughter would call for me in the middle of the night if she woke up. Or if she had a bad dream. Or if she didn’t feel well. Or if she just needed Mommy. At 17, she doesn’t do that anymore. Rarely, if she isn’t feeling well, she will call downstairs for me to come up. And on those nights, I do whatever it takes to make her feel better…a cold compress or warm compress, Motrin, Drip Drop (a rehydrating beverage), or just rub her feet or knees (growing pains). While I never want her to feel badly, I’m always happy to go up and help her.

She’s still my baby, and I’m still a full-time mom…for less than or year or so, anyway…just like my mother was to me. Today, on what should have been Mother’s 82nd birthday, I’ll be taking bottled water to my daughter’s cheerleading squad at the away football game…just like my mother used to do. And after I get home from the football game, I’ll have a little cocktail and make a toast to Mother’s birthday.

Happy Heavenly Birthday to Mother.

by Kelly Mattei

The New BC

The new BC.

We all know BC, in historic terms, means before Christ, right? In modern terms, though, it means before COVID.

Now that we are approaching the one year mark on the COVID shutdowns, I look at my daily Facebook memories from 2020 and think, “Wow. How little we knew then.” I look at pictures of myself laughing with friends or my daughter playing sports, and I think, “We had no idea how our lives were about to change.” In fact, on this day one year ago, my post was about a friend telling me that when she was a kid, her school bus driver would stop at railroad tracks and let acid off the bus to run across the tracks…to wave the bus across. That was my big concern of this day in 2020. I had never heard of such a thing, but apparently, it was happening in lots of places. What I didn’t know was that life as I knew it was about to stop, and I wouldn’t be worried about how people waved buses across railroad tracks back in the day.

This morning, my daughter’s school lacrosse team had a game, and it was the first time students have been allowed to attend sporting events as spectators since this time last year. March 12 was the last day our kids went to school last year, and that anniversary is rapidly approaching. There were no spring sports after that date. Our little independent school opened in August, with a hybrid plan of alternating days for students, so at least they are in school half the time, and we had fall sports, but we had them without spectators. Same with winter sports…our school found a way for parents to attend (only two adults per player), but students were still not allowed to attend as spectators…till today.

Last night, my daughter and her friends were reminding friends that they should come watch the game and cheer them on this morning. And not surprisingly, lots of them showed up…even for a Saturday morning game! Girls sports, for whatever reason, don’t usually have a whole lot of spectators besides parents, but today? The turnout was fantastic! Maybe since they haven’t been able to gather in stadiums and sports arenas for so long, these students will support all their teams. I think they will be thrilled to have an excuse to commune…even while social distancing. At least, after a whole year of shutdowns and disappointments, these kids are getting an opportunity to have a little bit of normalcy.

Heck, our school has even announced the juniors and seniors will have a prom! That was quite a shocker, but it truly gave the students something to look forward to!

Hopefully, things will continue to move in a positive direction. Last year, we canceled our spring break trip at the last minute, but this year, we are going. In fact, we are going on the trip we paid for last year, so this year it seems like a free trip!

The past year has been tough on all of us…some more so than others. It was tough mentally for me and lots of my friends. It was tough financially for lots of people. Physically…lots of people got COVID and recovered, but lots of people died or lost loved ones. Our kids lost the experiences they are supposed to have as kids and teenagers. College students stayed home and learned online or sat in dorms and learned. They lost a year of “college experience.” People lost jobs and livelihoods…some of them lost everything they had. It was a tough year. We were told that we could “flatten the curve” of COVID by staying home for two weeks back in March 2020. Then that two weeks stretched to four weeks…six weeks…six months…and here we are at a year. I was about to lose my mind every time a vacation canceled last summer, but I knew missing vacations was minor compared to what some folks were experiencing. It didn’t make it any easier for me, and when I’d had enough (September), I got on a plane anyway. I needed it.

One thing I know is that starting on March 12, my Facebook memories are going to get more interesting. They will move from BC (before COVID) to photos and posts from the first year of the COVID era. While I have hated the shutdowns, and I have hated watching people get sick and some die, I think the posts that start popping up in my memories will be interesting. They will tell a story of the first year of COVID. I will see posts from last spring, when we were stuck home, and I was spending as much time as possible outdoors, because I couldn’t look at the four walls of my house anymore. They will also tell the story of a year unlike any other. Before it happened, staying home all the time sounded like Hell to me. And for the first few weeks and even months, it was especially tough. Then I found ways to make it more tolerable…gardening, taking road trips, mailing postcards, mailing letters, sitting by the pool, talking on the phone…anything to make it better.

My daddy used to tell me that once you start staying home all the time it becomes too easy to stay home all the time. If you stop driving on the interstate highway, you forget how to drive on the interstate highway. Stop going to the grocery store? You forget how. You have to take on the “use it or lose it” mentality, and thankfully, I remembered that throughout the last year. I would get into my car and just drive sometimes. But yes, I did notice as stores started opening that I was a little awkward when shopping. How does one forget how to shop? I even went into a new sandwich shop one time early in the shutdowns, and wearing a mask made it seem almost unnavigable to me. I couldn’t learn a new system while wearing a mask! So I left and went to my old trusted sandwich shop, where the ordering system was familiar.

Since then, I’ve traveled more and moved around more…sometimes by car and sometimes by plane…all while wearing a mask. I’m wondering if life will ever be what it was BC, or will we always wear masks? Will we always be afraid to hug or shake hands? That’s the part I really hate. I like hugging. I like shaking hands.

But right now, I’m just thankful. I’m thankful to have survived the first year of the COVID era relatively intact. I’m grateful to have great friends and family I love. I hope we move into the post-COVID era sooner rather than later.

As we start to move beyond the first year of COVID, I hope we will all remember how fortunate we are to have “normal” again. I hope we will all be grateful for “normal.” I hope those who have experienced hardship or loss can find a way to move forward. I hope we find ways to be joyful. I hope…I just hope we have hope.

by Kelly Mattei

November is Pancreatic Cancer Awareness Month

***This is a repost from November 2019***

All my friends know it, because they’ve heard it from me for years…since 2006…November is Pancreatic Cancer Awareness Month. What does that mean? To some folks it means nothing. To me, it means a lot. My daddy died eight months after he was diagnosed with this terrible disease. He had been suffering for months, though, without a diagnosis…I’ll get to that in a minute.

When I was in my thirties, I had heard very little about pancreatic cancer. I knew nothing about it…nothing. In 2006, I had been married for six years, and I had a two-year-old daughter. Life was moving along swimmingly, and then my daddy got sick. And it was bad. He was 67 years old when he was diagnosed on February 9, and he died on October 2, three weeks after his 68th birthday…the birthday he declared his happiest ever, because all his family members were there to celebrate with him.

Without getting into the details of his illness, let me tell you this…it never occurred to us he would get pancreatic cancer. There was no history of it in his family, except one aunt, and she was considerably older when she was diagnosed, so we tend to think “we’re all going to die of something.” But when Daddy was diagnosed, it hit us like a ton of bricks. The survival rate is terrible, and after doing some research, we were fully aware of his prognosis, but like Alex Trebek, we tried to have a positive outlook. Without hope, what do you have?!?

Detecting pancreatic cancer is extremely difficult, and that is, in part, why the survival rate is low. My daddy was having symptoms for some time before he was diagnosed, but sometimes, we can’t see the forest for the trees. When he was finally diagnosed, it was too late to do much about it. I’m hoping research funding will help find better, easier ways of detecting it.

There are two things I want you to take away from this…

  • Pancreatic cancer is the third leading cause of cancer-related deaths, but the funding for its research doesn’t match up. There are lots of ways to help. You can donate directly to the Pancreatic Cancer Action Network (PanCan) here. You can host a fundraiser for the organization too. You can walk in a Purple Stride event in your town. You can purchase purple (the color for pancreatic cancer awareness) gear through PanCan here. You can wear purple in memory of someone you know…and tell people why you’re wearing it. You can write to your representatives in Congress, asking them to do more to fund the fight against pancreatic cancer. I recently hosted a fundraiser for Pancreatic Cancer Action Network on Facebook, and I am grateful to all who donated. I was thrilled that so many people donated, and I was overwhelmed by their generosity.
  • Live your life. We never know what will happen. My daddy was always telling us, “Life is not a dress rehearsal.” He encouraged us to live our lives to the fullest…enjoy time with friends and family, see places and things we want to see, give back to the community, etc. Soon after I turned 50, I told my mother (who has since passed away), “I probably only have 20 more years that I can move around really well.” I was looking ahead and thinking it might not be as easy for me to travel when I’m over 70. She looked at me with a sweet smile on her face and said, “When your daddy was your age, he didn’t have that long. [When he was 50, he only had 18 more years ahead of him.] Do the things you want to do.” Perspective. She was right. And so that’s what I’m encouraging you to do. It doesn’t mean you have to go into debt taking a gigantic whirlwind trip, but get busy ticking things off your bucket list.

And while you’re ticking things off your bucket list, wear purple every now and then.

FYI: World Pancreatic Cancer Awareness Day is November 19, 2020. Please wear purple and support the fight.

by Kelly Mattei

The Loss of a Beloved Teacher

The loss of a beloved teacher.

When I was growing up, my family moved several times. In fifth grade, I landed in a new town and new school. It was a school that was several times bigger than my previous elementary school. At my “old” school, we had only two classes for each grade. Everyone knew each other, and we were a pretty sheltered bunch. At my “new” school, there were four or five classes for each grade. Everyone did not know each other, and well…they weren’t as sheltered. Fortunately, I fell into the classroom of a wonderful, caring teacher.

I feel pretty sure she could feel my pain on the first day. While everyone was friendly, I’m sure I looked like a deer caught in the headlights, so my new teacher assigned two girls to look out for me. They showed me around and introduced me to their friends, and it certainly made the transition easier. Assimilating wasn’t difficult, thanks to the teacher and those girls she introduced me to.

There was something special about this teacher. She was dealing with students from various socioeconomic backgrounds and races, and somehow she brought us all together. I don’t know how public schools work in Alabama now, but back in the day, students were grouped by reading level and math level. We had at least two different levels in our class at any given time, except math, when we went to a different classroom where everyone learned the same thing. In some cases, I’m sure students who weren’t working on the highest level might have felt inferior, but I don’t think they ever felt that way in her class. She loved all of us, in spite of and because of our differences. And while I was in the highest level reading group, I know we never looked at the other groups in our class and thought they were “less than.” That’s because our teacher pulled us together. She understood that fifth grade students needed to move around some during the day, and she encouraged us all to participate in discussions, be creative, and work with our “neighbors.”

I had always been a good student, but I had usually been pretty quiet in class. But at the end of the first grading period, the teacher called my mother before sending home my report card. She wanted to warn my mother ahead of time that she had marked “talks too much” on my report card, but she explained that she had done it for our whole group that sat in the same area. Apparently, we had bonded well enough that we never stopped talking! My mother was surprised but thought it was funny, since she had never been told I “talked too much” at school. And we, the students, learned a valuable lesson about working as a group…everyone in the group is responsible for each other.

One of those friends, James, from that class group texted me recently. He is my longest continuous-contact friend, and we were brought together right there in that classroom. We have been friends for 43 years. He texted me to tell me our beloved teacher had passed away. He loved her too. In fact, he was, quite possibly, the student who checked in on her the most over the years. She saw something special in him when we were in 5th grade, and he didn’t disappoint. He remembered her kindness and spent time with her when she was in the hospital several years ago, and then, last year, he visited her at home…spending time laughing and talking with her.

The last time I spoke with our teacher was Mother’s Day weekend in 2019…just over a year ago. We talked about old times. We talked about how she let us veer from the lesson plan sometimes to give us time to be creative. She sometimes secretly gave clothing and snacks to the students who needed it…but in a way no one else knew it, so the student wouldn’t be embarrassed. We talked about how she became a teacher. We laughed a lot while we reminisced, and we solved some of the world’s problems in that phone call. She reminded me of a few things, and I reminded her of a few things. And she asked me to write down some of my memories of her/her class and send them to her.

She taught my brother two years after she taught me. We are two totally different personalities; frankly, he’s a lot more fun than I am. And I’m sure he was quite the class clown, but this teacher? She had an appreciation for his humor. She found a way to teach him without squashing his spirit. She saw something special behind his twinkling, mischievous eyes, and she loved him. He loved her too.

When I heard about her passing, I was heartbroken. I knew her health had been in decline, but I was surprised to hear she had passed. I was, however, happy I had followed through on my promise to write down some memories and send them to her. It took me a few months to get it done, but I got it done. I emailed it and then sent her a hard copy of it too. A friend was having coffee with me at my house when I got the news, and I told her, “Wow. My fifth grade teacher just died.” I went on to explain to her how special this teacher was to all her students…how she actually cared. And then I said, “I’m so glad I talked to her last year and sent her some memories I had written down for her.” No regrets.

She had long since retired, but she made a difference in the lives of lots of children over the years. She was special. I feel sorry for the ones who didn’t get to be in her class. If you had a beloved teacher during your school days, make his/her day by sending him/her a letter, or even just an email, letting him/her know he/she made a difference in your life.

She was a lovely lady, and “lovely” is high compliment from me…one I don’t throw out lightly. God bless her family, and God bless the soul of Mrs. Stiff.

by Kelly Mattei

October 2 Has Meaning for Me

October 2 has meaning for me.

Different days have different meanings. To a lot of people, October 2 means nothing different than any other day. To me, it has meaning.

October 2 is the anniversary of a day my life changed forever…the day my Daddy died in 2006. Pancreatic cancer. I’ve written about it before. Today is the 14th anniversary of his passing. While it’s hard to believe it has been 14 years, it also feels like I haven’t seen his face or heard his laugh in forever.

For years, I could only remember him sick. Pancreatic cancer was a cruel disease for him. Frankly, it was cruel for me and the rest of the family too. I had never felt such emotional pain. I thought I would lose my mind with grief. Yes, the disease was terrible, but through those months from diagnosis to his passing, we managed to have some good times. We laughed…a lot. We cried a lot too. We spent a lot of time together. My husband and I moved our little family down to the Alabama Gulf Coast for months, to be closer to Mother and Daddy. We were lucky we had a condo on the bay near their house. Our daughter was about to turn three. It wasn’t easy to uproot the family. We had good support in Charlotte…great friends we had made over the course of our marriage. They called to check on us, and they mailed little treats to our daughter. I called them and cried regularly. We didn’t have a lot of support in Alabama, but I enrolled our daughter in a church preschool…they very graciously took her when they didn’t have to. And I did everything I could to keep my little family happy while trying to help my mother help my daddy. Daddy was so sweet throughout his illness. It was heartbreaking watching him get sicker and sicker…and that was all I could remember for a long time.

But now, I can remember him not sick. I can remember his laugh. I can remember his stories and his wordplay. I can remember watching Atlanta Braves baseball on WTBS with him. I can remember watching the Chicago Cubs on WGN and listening to Harry Caray with him. We loved the early days of Who Wants to Be a Millionaire…when Regis hosted. He was into all the same “useless knowledge” I’m into. I remember what a jokester he was. I remember how he carried me to the car when I had a stomach bug at 17…just picked me up like I weighed nothing and carried me to the car to take me to the doctor. I can remember how big his hands looked when I was a little girl. When he was dying, I kept looking at his hands…trying to etch them in my memory. I don’t know why that was so important, but for some reason it was. I think his hands represented his strength to me…his physical strength, but also his emotional strength. He was rock solid to us. He carried the burden of supporting our family, and he didn’t have a financial safety net in the form of parents who could help him in a financial emergency. He gave us that safety net, though.

My brother and I laughed just recently talking about how Daddy always made sure we were taken care of. He provided for us…everything we needed and most of what we wanted…throughout life. And here’s the funny thing…he’s still providing for us, in a way. Just recently, almost three years after my mother died, we discovered they had a life insurance policy he had set up many years ago. Today, on the fourteenth anniversary of Daddy’s passing, I deposited the check from that policy into a bank account, and afterward, I sat in the car and thought, “Wow. Fourteen years to the day after he died, and he’s still giving to us.”

Don’t get me wrong. Mother provided lots for us too…in a different way, but today is about remembering Daddy. I used to dread October 2 every year, because it meant heartache to me, but now I smile. I’m certainly not happy he’s gone, but when October 2 rolls around, I spend the day thinking about Daddy. I’ll look at the moon tonight and remember how he used to call me in Charlotte from his home in Alabama and tell me to go outside and look at the moon when it was particularly spectacular.

Just this weekend, when I was in a store with a friend, someone heard me call her “Miss Merry Sunshine” and asked if that was her name. I explained that I just call my friend that because she’s perpetually happy. And even that made me think of Daddy. When he was sick, I would take our toddler daughter over to visit, and he would sing Good Morning, Merry Sunshine any time she walked into the room. She loved it…and frankly, I did too. In one of his final days, I walked into the room with her, and he had a lot of morphine in his system…his speech wasn’t clear. His smile was clear, but his speech was garbled. He was “singing” but it wasn’t clear. I took that almost-three-yr-old little girl outside, and said, “I wonder what Big Ken was trying to say to you?” She looked up at me with a big smile and said, “Good morning, Merry Sunshine!” So yes, I thought of him this past weekend when the woman in the store thought my friend’s name was Merry Sunshine.

Now that little toddler girl is almost 17. In memory of Daddy, before she goes out with her friends tonight, I’ll take her hand and press a crisp $20 bill into it. He used to do that…give me “walking around money,” or WAM, as we started calling it when I was in college.

His passing was difficult. That’s not even a good word for it. It hit me hard. But it also taught me some coping skills…his final lesson to me.

Lots of good memories of Daddy. Thanks, October 2, for making me sit back and think about him. I still miss him, but I have wonderful memories of him.