Alive in the Books.

K.T.

There is a woman who influenced me. And now she is gone.
I just learned today from Erin that she is gone.

I once worked with her and she had an eye for all things fashion, current, and chic.
The way she flattered customers from the minute they walked through the door, and giggled as she rang up their thousand dollar sales ... that was the K.T. way.

She had the best laugh, and I can hear it as I type.

With no kids of her own, she spent a lot of time with her sister's children.
I really loved and admired the relationship that Karen had with them all.
She would talk about the three kids. Always.

Karen would talk to me about the day they'd all take the library by storm. "Library Day" - she'd call it.
I listened as she talked. She'd tell me about the books the twins had checked out when she went with them.

Sometimes, the girls and their tiny brother would come to the 'Tweed and race around with a new book in hand while their mom re-designed the display windows.
K.T. would chat with each of the kids, and ask them questions about their books. They seemed to glow in their Aunt's undivided attention. Probably because she really listened to them when they talked about their books. Her world would suddenly halt, when the children presented their latest "Library Day" finds.

I never knew how closely I paid attention to any of this, until today.

***

Why do I remember this?
Why do I remember this today, now that K.T. is gone?

***

I was much younger when I knew Karen well.

I was fresh out of college and had my sights set on three things: dating the love of my life, accumulating as much of the gear that we sold in that store, and oh, yeah - figuring out my career....

Now I am older.

I married that love of my life.
I still wear much of the gear amassed during those few years at the 'Tweed.
And my career seems to be moving in the right direction.

But "Library Day" has its place in my world, too.

***

Now, with two children of my own, my weekly "To Do" list includes going to the library with them.
Since Declan was an infant, we'd hit the library at least once a week. Karen was, without a doubt, the inspiration for those first few trips.
Suddenly, we'd established such a routine that it felt odd to not go to the library every week.

***

Today, after hearing the news about K.T., I paused and thought of her while standing with my two kids in the middle of our library.
A tiny hand held each of mine, and for a long time I felt very, very sad.

***

Karen is the reason our librarians greet my children by name.

Karen is the reason our library basket is overflowing with books every day of the year.

And, she is the reason I encourage my children to love libraries and all they contain.

***
There is a woman who influenced me. And now she is gone.

I'm having a hard time believing she is gone.

But in every way imaginable, Karen will be Alive In The Books we cart home in our canvass bag, on "Library Day" each week.

First Came Una.

In the order of things: First Came Una.

She arrived in a wrinkled bag with wrinkled tissue and looked like she'd been that way since she was packed up in Ireland. She made us laugh when we first saw her because at the time, Una's recipient (Dec) was a 2 month old boy of a boy.

So, when we unwrapped Una, her pinkness was somewhat shocking. It was the first pink present he'd received. But it came from Auntie Una, with love from Ireland. So this pink bear soon became Dec's crib mate. Una, the bear, is quite like the real-life Una (the dear Auntie). She's ever-present in this house (as the real Una is in our hearts and minds), she's so squeezable and lovable. The real Una can give quite a lovely bear hug too. But mostly Una is comforting to be around. Una helps us relax - just like the real one.

Next on the scene was Murphy.

His story has a bit more color. Red comes to mind.

He came by way of the Hospital ER when Dec sliced his fingers (almost) off. Once Dec was stitched up and sewn back together, we were handed Murphy. A small white schnauzer.

The hospital had received cartons of Murphys to give to children in the ER from one generous donor who wanted his beloved pet's legacy to continue. Murphy was an easy addition to our family, for Murphy is Dec's middle name. What are those odds?

The last on the scene was Sheila

Sheila was her given name sewn to her bottom. She came from Granny Tess' dear friends who handed the package to Dec while whispering to me "our grand daughters just love these stuffed animals!". When Dec unwrapped her he tossed her aside without even a "thank you" or smile and continued playing with his trucks. Sheila would be a tough sell.

That first day, Sheila didn't come close to winning Dec's attention.

But that tiny white poodle held her own.

***

Sheila was missing.

The other night when I tucked the kids into bed, Sheila was missing.

After an all-out search (with my butt in the air and crammed under beds for most of it) she was found minutes later squeezed behind our globey pillow and a lego tub.

Sheila! You silly doggy!!!

Sheeeeeeeeiiiiiiillllllllaaaaaaa!!!!

Came the happy hugs.

She was placed into her spot between the kids for story time.

***

You see, I'm not a huge fan of stuffed animals.

Unless they are special.

Luckily, these three happen to be.

Murphy. Sheila. Una. - they've absorbed more of my kid's tears, hugs, and spilled bottles of milk than any other things in Happy House.

Since the first few days I met the hubby I'd heard captivating stories of his extended family living in the emerald Isle.

Two Aunties (Sheila Murphy & Una) were among the wonderful people he spoke of with great admiration, fond memories, and laughter.

***

As it happens, the day after Sheila went missing from the children's bed -

Sheila Murphy' died in Ireland.

It felt quite right that we'd lead the all-out search for the missing piece of our incredible fun-loving trio and that she slept that night tucked into Nonie's right arm.

Just as it feels quite right to surround the children with warmth from their relatives who love them from afar.

And from above.

The Tree. And My Baby Who Will Always Be.

Despite the heavy rain and strong wind of late, this morning my Baby Tree looked healthy, happy even.

I checked on her as I do most every morning. Sometimes I don't even venture outside.

My wondering eyes peer at her through the front window. Does she know I love her?

Other times we do rock painting, bug catching, worm racing - right in her very shade.

I thinks she likes these days the most. I know I do. Can she feel me thinking about her?

It was three years ago I selected and planted Baby Tree. Just there up in front, by the white picket fence. She deserved one of the most prominent spots I could find in the yard.

It was three more days after her roots hit the soil that I went back to the nursery in pursuit of the perfect Mother Tree to stand guard in the garden behind her. When Mother Tree was in her place with ample water and plenty of soil steadying her, the ache that had hijacked my heart -my world really, finally subsided to the point where I could inhale.

Inhale. Deeply.

Though three years have gone by, I still wonder.

Every day I wonder.

Oh! How I wonder....

Though three years have gone by, I hurt.

Who would have guessed it would still hurt?

The ache fills my heart as I type....

Inhale. Deeply.

And, though three years have gone by, I still love.

My heart overflows with love -

For the baby I never got a chance to see -

- my baby who will always be.

Maireann croí éadrom i bhfad.

Pretty in Pink

I know that everyone mourns differently. Having been surrounded by death in my everyday life, I sometimes feel as though I am jaded. It happens all the time, it happens to everyone, let's deal with it and move one.

But it is different. Especially when it is someone close. Someone whose smile lights up a room, whose laugh penetrates the hearts and souls around them and whose pink lips could make anyone wish they could wear lipstick too.

I missed out on mourning as a group for Muzz, but I did not miss out on mourning. I thought of her as I passed through the grocery store the other day and saw Lorna Doone's. I see Maddy and Tese, and Andrew and can't help to think of her. I mourn as a mother, as a daughter, a sister, a relative, a Catholic, a friend.

I can't imagine one life, one heart, one smile, having an effect on so many. And she did. What a beautiful, shining example for all of us to remember and embody.

Now let's see if my lips are up to it.