Dear Forties

Dear Forties,

We’ve been through quite a lot together but now as our time comes to an end, I want to make the most of what we have left. In just one short year, I will enter my fifties and venture into an entire new decade of life. So, let’s just sit here like old friends for a minute. Let’s reminisce a little about the ups and downs and the lessons learned.

Remember our first year together? It felt like I had the world in the palm of my hands. Oh, 2015, how you set me up for a fall. My mom passed away the year before and I spent four months in bed, physically ill and mentally unable to heal but here I was at the start of a new year, finally feeling like I just might be okay. The Boy turned 4 that year and we were having the time of our lives. He had spent my four months of mourning right by my side. (He brought toys to my bed so that we could play and would sometimes say in the sweetest little voice, “Is okay if you need to cry a foo minutes. I will hold you so you can cry.”) Now, it was time to show him a good time. I owed him one. I was working at my husband’s tire shop at the time so we could make our own hours. We went to story time every Saturday, every Lego build, every movie night at the library. We jumped on the trampoline late Tuesday afternoons and hopped in the pool at noon on Thursdays. Ladybug was not only graduating that year, but she was also crowned the Canna Queen. Our lives were filled with reasons for joy!

Proms, Parades, and graduation celebrations filled our spring and spilled over into summer and autumn with theme parks, lake days, climbing mountains, and chasing waterfalls. We worked hard. We played harder. And we slept good at night. Until…

I walked out of my house one morning in October and saw something that I couldn’t unsee. I discovered that a problem I thought had been solved was not only still a problem, but it was bigger than ever. It loomed over me threatening to end this beautiful life I was living. Threatening to rip off the rose-colored glasses and stomp them into the ground. I felt betrayed and heartbroken. I felt helpless and lost. I felt like I wasn’t enough and never could be because I had never been the reason for the look of pure ecstasy that I witnessed that day. I felt like all the love and trust that my entire life had been built upon was pulled out from under me.

I felt like I might never love or trust again.

Forty came in like a lamb and went out like a lion, tearing me apart from the inside out. I learned what it feels like to fall from such great heights.

Somehow, I made it to forty-one. In 2016, we closed the tire shop and I found work at Lowe’s. I picked up the pieces of my heart and stuffed them in the pockets of my red vest. I met some of the finest people I could ever hope to meet. During that year, we rebuilt strong. I insisted on spending more time with my family in Florida, where I recharge my batteries. We had a family wedding, held a baby tiger, tubed down the Rainbow River, and remembered how to be happy. I found so much joy in leading the Build-n-Grow at Lowe’s on Saturday mornings and I learned a little about building and growing myself. Then, without even looking, my dream job found me.

Forty-two and forty-three, you were so kind and quiet and gentle. I needed you. I needed time at my best friend’s beach house. I needed Ladybug’s 21st birthday celebration in New York City. I needed to watch her complete finishing school and get a job as an extra in Cobra Kai. I needed my fantastic job, where I was surrounded by friends and showered with love and appreciation. I needed to watch The Boy thriving at school, making friends and becoming a leader amongst his peers. Things were going fine.

There were still plenty of downs. So, many downs. But I learned that I could cover them over with love and understanding and optimism. I mean, I didn’t really need to be “happy”. I just wanted to be “not sad”. There was enough good to focus on that I didn’t really even notice how much of myself, my wants, my needs, I was giving up. I just wanted peace. Forty-two and forty-three, you were peaceful. I appreciate that.

And then forty-four came along.

Forty-four, you were so demanding. Where Forty-two and Forty-three wanted peace, you wanted more. I realized that my heart never really mended, I just moved the pieces from the pocket of my red vest to the pocket of my pant suit. Suddenly, I ached for “HAPPY” not just “not sad”. That year I learned a few critical things about myself. I don’t like people bad mouthing my family. I don’t like people persuading me to stay away from my family. I don’t like people telling me that I’m a bad person. I don’t like the silent treatment. I don’t like keeping the peace or walking on eggshells. I don’t like people threatening to walk away every time their delicate feathers get ruffled. I learned that I deserve love and understanding and optimism, too. I learned that my worth is not determined by somebody telling me I am worthy. I AM WORTHY.

And I learned that some people would disagree with that.

That year, I also learned way more about brain tumors, specifically glioblastoma multiforme, than I ever wanted to know.

Forty-five, if I had to choose a word of the year, it would be “savor”. I worked hard to savor every single moment, even during quarantine. Our home was loud and yet, peaceful. There was music and dancing every day! We hiked trails, roasted marshmallows, painted the living room, learned new skills, and socially distanced. On several occasions The Boy, Ladybug, and I snuck out in the middle of the night to leave sidewalk chalk love notes in the driveways of people we love. I met the man that Ladybug will most likely end up marrying. I renewed my relationship with one of my sisters as we cleared out my garage and then chatted over cold beers. We read tons of books and zoomed and wrote letters. My best friend and I started a podcast. We savored every single minute that we could spend with the people we love. In the fall, my sister passed away suddenly, unexpectedly, and before I was done being her little sister. That year, I learned WHY we savor every moment with the ones we love, and I carried it over to Forty-six.

Forty-six brought new friends, new adventures, and more adventures with old friends as the world opened back up. Visiting breweries, theme parks, Tiger-Con, tubing with my bestie, more hikes, swimming with manatees, and a beautiful wedding where I got to dance with my daddy one last time. I learned how to fill my own cup in 2021, and boy, was it full! Forty-five and forty-six gave me the strength to get through Forty-seven.

Forty-seven, we saw some pretty great days but losing my daddy…

I learned that there is no hurt quite like that hurt.

That brings us to this past year. Forty-eight, you have brought me hope. I hoped for things that were not meant to be and I learned that those things aren’t for me. But oh, the things that are meant for me are so, so beautiful! I watched The Boy thrive in his first year of middle school. I’ve watched Ladybug make plans for her future and build a plan with a true partner for life. I attended my 30-year High School reunion and reconnected with great friends. College football season with my bff was filled with tailgates and laughter and almost another national championship. I started a new job and opened new doors. I completed my bachelor’s degree and celebrated in Las Vegas. I’ve learned that maybe I can love and trust again. Maybe. There were times that tested us, for sure, like when my brother passed away without any warning. He was one of the kindest men I’ve ever known. I miss him terribly but even so, when I look at the strength of his wife and his boys, I see hope.

So here we are, Forty-nine. I don’t know what you have in store for me. There are so many things I’d like to do this year! Travel to my mother’s homeland, learn some Spanish, maybe get another degree, or write a book, or actually get that podcast off the ground. I’d love for this year to be filled with more time with family and friends, travel, adventures, love, joy, and peace. I want more happy.

Dearest Forties, you have torn me down and rebuilt me. Somewhere along the way, all those lessons I learned became the glue to piece my heart back together. I look forward to our last year together. I am stronger than when we started. I am more confident.

I am wiser. I am resilient. I am ready.

Forty-nine…Let’s roll.