Dear Dad...

Last Friday marked the 28th anniversary of the day my father was killed in an automobile accident. 28th anniversary - sounds like it should be a happy occasion. I make Jim celebrate the anniversaries of our first date, our wedding, my first Michigan State game. 28th anniversary of the day my father was tragically and irrevocably ripped out of our lives -- doesn't have the same ring to it.

I'm just now, at the age of 29, beginning to understand the wide expanse of the hole he left behind. Why now? I'm not sure. Maybe it's because I'm in a good place in my life. Maybe that's when all the stuff you couldn't deal with before bubbles up to the surface. I was 16 months old when he died. I have no memories of him. I don't remember what his voice sounded like, how he smelled, what it felt like to have him hold me. All the things a little girl (and a 29 year woman) should know about her father. Don't think for a second that losing a parent at a young age is somehow easier than losing them later in life. You lose a parent, it sucks - period. He never taught me how to throw a softball, never taught me how to dance before prom, never threatened the lives of any boy who would hurt his daughter. I'm not bitter - well, maybe a little. Why him? Why me? Why does this have to be ONE of the tragic defining moments of my life? Why can't I be the normal girl at school with a mommy and a daddy? Why can't I call him up today and say "Hi Dad, was just thinking about you" I don't get it and the more I think about it - the angrier I get. But, that's not my point today.....

When I was little, I used to fantasize that my Dad was going to come back to me. Maybe he was in the CIA or witness protection. One day he would show up on my door step and apologize for all the years he missed. We would hug and begin the father/daughter relationship I had longed for my entire life. I wish I could tell you those fantasies faded with my childhood -- but they're still there,  just under the surface. And, during difficult times in my life - I secretly entertain the idea that he could still come back. What would I say?
Dear Dad,

Ok, yes this is weird. I'm writing you a letter (for the whole world to read by the way). And, you're dead. That might send me over the edge just writing that. Dead. But, you're not. You are very much alive - in me. I like to think that I am a little piece of you that gets to live on. I like to think that some of the good in me comes from you. I like to believe that I have become a woman you would be proud to call your daughter. That's my biggest fear in the world - that you would be disappointed. You left this world far too soon and left behind what? A daughter who can't seem to get it together? I'm trying Dad, but I need you. I need my Dad to tell me that its ok, that its all going to be OK. I need you to be HERE.

I've made some bad choices Dad -  done things I'm not proud of. Would you have loved me anyway? Would you have shook your head in disappointment or wrapped me in your understanding arms? I guess I'll never know. And, that kills me. I won't rehash the events of the last 29 years -- we do have an audience. I guess the long and the short of it is - you weren't there. When I was in a bad relationship - I needed my Dad to be the superhero that rescued me. When I finally met and married my best friend - I needed my Dad to walk me down the aisle. When I graduated high school, college, got my first job - I needed you.

But, I'm Ok Dad. In the grand scheme of where I could be in my life -- I think I'm doing pretty well. Mom is ok too. She misses you - every day, though she would never say that out loud. I have good friends, a beautiful home and a job that pays the bills. I have two men in my life I wish you could meet. My husband, Jim, is the man I know you picked for me. I can imagine you and God sitting on a cloud looking down to earth saying, "he's the one for her -- go have somebody event something called EHarmony so we can get them together" The other is a Jim too -- my father in law, Papa D. He's a Dad any girl would be lucky to have. He already has a beautiful daughter of his own, but he has love enough in his heart for me too. He protects me and looks out for me -- I know someday you will shake his hand and say "thank you for taking care of my little girl".

Well Dad, I gotta run. I'm at work and bawling like a baby at my desk as I write this. Don't worry -- we'll still have our regular chats -- when I'm running or driving or snuggling in for the night. I love you. I miss you. And I thank you for being a man I can be proud to call my Dad. I'll be seeing you -- I still need those dance lessons. Oh - and give Grandpa a kiss for me.

Love, Miranda

9/11

I'm not sure that I set out to write a post tonight about 9/11 -- but its all I can think about. 11 years later -- the footage is still everywhere. All the major networks will show the attacks in real time tomorrow morning. All of us will awake with fresh wounds -- as if  they ever really healed.

I write alot about ideals. About seizing the day and not letting death get the best of you. You'll see your loved ones again, no big deal. Yes, big deal. I'm embarassed to say it really has taken 11 years but I think the gravity of 9/11 has finally hit me. I've watched countless documentaries on the subject (Jim is borderline obsessed). I've seen the footage so many times I still see it when I close my eyes. I've listened to all 2, 819 names being read at Ground Zero. I'm a big picture girl. I get the big picture of 9/11. We were attacked, we responded and went to war. The landscape of our country, our psyche, our world -- will never be the same.

After we relive the tragedy tomorrow and lick our wounds for the appropriate amount of time -- we will again start remembering the good that came from the bad. The hope that rose from the rubble....or something like that. How do I wrap my head around that? Like I said -- 11 years later I am just now getting it. Most of you have probably been where I am now. Maybe you processed and moved on -- please tell me how. How am I suppose to reconcile with my head and my heart the fact that almost 3,000 people were killed in a single day -- for a single reason? Then, my big picture brain really gets the best of me and I think -- what about the Holocaust? The genocide in Africa? The tsunami in Indonesia? Countless lives lost. Tragically lost. Aren't all lives lost tragic? Would it be worse to lose a loved one to 9/11 than a car accident?The result is the same -- isn't it? What's the point? All of the sudden the world seems very big and I feel very small. I'm worried about getting laundry done and ticked off at Jim for leaving his cereal bowl on the counter again -- and all this tragedy is happening? Happening DAILY. I don't see a tenth of it -- will never hear about it on mainstream media -- will never have to process its ugliness.

Maybe that's it. Maybe we were forced to see the ugliness of 9/11 over and over and over again. Maybe that's why its so disturbing. I live a privledged, sheltered life. I've never feared for my life because I worship Jesus Christ. I've never feared a terrroist attack in my country -- even AFTER 9/11. Am I naive, stupid, out of touch? Death is everywhere. And, the best I can hope for is to die an old lady warm in my bed. (yes, I pulled that from Titanic, don't judge me) So - where do I go from here?

You have to learn from everything -- good,bad and ugly - or this ride we're on really is pointless. What have I learned from 9/11? Don't worry -- I'm not going to pull out flowery cliches about Carpe Diem and God has a plan and it all works out in the end. 9/11 doesn't work out. There is no amount of reasoning or religion that will make that day OK. There is no amount of ignorance or denial that will change the fact that everyday death is a reality for so many across the globe. My lesson from 9/11? I am one hell of a lucky girl. I live in a nation where people were running IN to burning buildings to save their fellow citizens. I live in a world where for everyone trying to destroy life -- there are others trying to preserve it.

Tomorrow when you turn the tv on to watch the coverage (you know you will) figure out what it means to you. Decide how the defining moment of our generation is going to define you. My goal -- still feel 9/11 next week. Still feel lucky when I pick up Jim's cereal bowl. Still feel privledged when I see someone flying the American flag. Still feel honored to serve families in times of loss -- whether that loss comes as a blessing or a tragedy. Still see God and know that 11 years ago Heaven was blessed with the arrival of 2,819 angels.

May God continue to bless the families of 9/11 victims, the first responders who showed the true courage and tenacity of the American spirit and our men and women in uniform -- who defend our freedom daily.

That's Life, Baby.

"Life ain't always beautiful, but it's a beautiful ride" - Gary Allen

Life isn't always beautiful and like a NASCAR race, it's not always a beautiful ride -  sorry Gary. And, unlike NASCAR, there's no safer barrier, no helmets, no holds barred. Sometimes it's OK, sometimes it's great and sometimes it's just plain ugly. That's life, baby.

I just got back from a trip to visit family in Michigan. Technically, they were Jim's family first - but, I love those Dobbins' like they were my own. We went up to visit for various reasons. But it was our first time away from the funeral home. Away - we thought - from the daily reminder of the circle of life. W.R.O.N.G. If ever there was a "full circle" trip -- this was it.

Let me back up. "That's life, Baby" -- the title of this blog is a phrase I find myself telling my husband all the time. We are running on zero sleep - that's life. We had an argument over replacing the roll of toilet paper - that's life. Our friends enjoyed a long summer of days on the beach, we spent long hours growing our business - that's life. God never promised it would be easy, He just promised He would always be with us. And, in the grand scheme of LIFE -- Jim and I are blessed beyond our wildest dreams. I have moments of doubt and so does he, but at the end of the day -- it doesn't get much better than this. I am married to my best friend - literally. Who else can you make up new words like "snarf" with,  at the airport when some guy sounds like he just sneezed and barfed at the same time? And -- still be laughing about it 3 days later :) Who else knows you so well it's comforting and infuriating -- depending on the situation. We have a beautiful home, a growing business and live in a part of the country most people dream of visiting. But - life ain't always beautiful. Back to our Michigan trip.

I met my nephew. My sweet, snuggly,  6 month old miracle nephew. I rememebered what love at first sight felt like. (I've experienced it before -- I've got two nieces who have Auntie M wrapped right around their little fingers). My brother and sister in law tried for 6 years to have this little munchkin -- he is beautiful, he makes LIFE beautiful.

A month ago my brother in law had a horrible accident with a table saw. He lost one finger and may never regain full mobility of two more. Is he upset? Absolutely. Is he thinking about it when he holds his beautiful son? Maybe. But - when he's down on the floor, blowing on his tummy and making him laugh - I'm guessing a lot of things get put into perspective. That's life, baby. As my Mama D would say "Schtuff happens". And, sometimes that "Schtuff" sucks. Holding my nephew, seeing his Daddy in a way I've never seen him before -- sometimes that "Schtuff" is awesome.

Jim's uncle has cancer. Four words. One of which - cancer - is enough to send any of us running. He has a loving wife and two beautiful daughters who might, in no small way, have to face life with the hole of his loss. We had dinner with him - one of the best nights I've had in a long time, probably my entire life. We drank the good wine, told the great stories and said "I love you" without thinking about it. He and his wife recently traveled to Paris -- a top destination on my bucket list. I teased Jim about taking me there for my big 3-0 next year. 30 in Paris, what would be better. His uncle said - do it. Don't wait. I hope we hold on to that. Not that we go to Paris necessarily, but that we seize every opportunity - every day. It's so easy to get caught up. Date night can wait. The anniversary of the day we met isn't really THAT important. The movie will be there tomorrow, the restaurant will still be serving next Friday. But - none of us knows what our fate is. I wonder how many times Jim's uncle looks back and says - I wish I had taken that trip, surprised her for lunch, hugged them just a little tighter.

So, what's the difference between my beautiful nephew and Jim's uncle? What makes one the beautiful part of life and one the ugly part? Perspective? Maybe. One is at the beginning of life and one is staring down the barrel of the end. But -- aren't we all? I could die tomorrow and when all is said and done -- was my ride a beautiful one? That isn't decided by fate or circumstance -- it's decided by me. I can get fighting mad, or I can get mad and fight. I can sit down and take it as it comes -- or I can make it happen. I can't cure cancer. I can't make the hurt that life deals us go away. But, I can remind myself every day of my sweet nephew and the promise of new life. And, I can remind myself of Jim's uncle and the reality that life here on Earth is temporary and unpredictable. That's life, baby.

Just Deal.

I talk about death daily. Once people at work find out you own a funeral home --- it comes up. I blog about it frequently. I profess to have great understanding and knowledge on how the rest of you should deal with death -- I being the expert, of course. SO. NOT. TRUE.

Five years ago I fell in love with a brown eyed, blond furred golden retriever named Gibson. We've been inseparable ever since. My husband had him for several years before I came along -- but Gibson and I were meant to be. Both shy, needy, sometimes awkward, love to sleep --- it was a match made in Heaven. Gibson is now 16 years old. I know, you're thinking -- 16 years old?! And he's still alive? Yes he is. And, he will live forever -- thank you very much.

We had a scare the other night and thought for certain the time had come to put Gibson to sleep. "Put him to sleep" sounds nice doesn't it? When the words came out of Jim's mouth, all I could think was we are going to kill him - not "put him to sleep". You wake up from sleep.

Jim wanted Gibson to spend his last night at home -- so he made a pallet on the floor, fed him 12 dozen dog treats and talked to him like it was any other day. Even talked to him about the people he would meet in Heaven. I, on the other hand, sat on the couch -- on the verge of tears, repulsed. My best bud is going to die and we're having a slumber party in the living room?! I couldn't handle it. Didn't know what to do, what to say. And, found my self putting as much physical and emotional distance between Gibson and I as I could. In the morning, I couldn't face the idea of going to the vet and watching -- literally watching -- Gibson die. I tried to get out of it, but it was obvious Jim thought I needed to be there. As we waited at home to leave for the vets office -- I mopped the floors. Why not? What else is one to do in times like these but mop?

Long story short -- my furry love is Ok. Still 16 years old, but doing pretty darn well. My point: people deal with grief, death, dying --- differently. Maybe I "should" have handled it better -- I am in the business, afterall. But, at the end of the day we are all doing the best we can. So have patience. Have faith and be there for those who don't know what to do in the face of death. Because honestly, none of us really know what to do -- even those of us who do it for a living.

unwilling to vacate.

Most of us aren't unwilling to vacate. So, why write a blog about it --- I'm getting there.

I was listening to the radio this week and came in on the tail end of a conversation about death. Of course, I turned up the volume. Apparently, the problem with death is that people are unwilling to vacate life. Umm....duh. I could have gone on the radio and said that. But....stay with me.

I starting thinking about things we are willing to vacate. I stopped counting after I got to "pretty much everything". We fly on a plane and gladly vacate our seat once we have landed safely in our final destination. We buy a home, and though it may at times be bitter-sweet, vacate when necessary. We vacate jobs. We vacate posts and positions we hold. We vacate marriages at a staggering rate. We aren't afraid to let go and move on from things we deem to be "temporary".

So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. 2 Corinthians 4:18 (NIV)

Huh. Now you're starting to get my point. (when, by the way, did I become an evangelist I'm not sure --- but stay with me)

God tells us that what we see is temporary - all of it. The house we made a home - temporary. The job we worked so hard for - temporary. Some of us struggle to realize that these "things" are not important, but most would agree they are temporary. You've never seen a hearse with a luggage rack -- as the saying goes. We readily vacate things we know we may never see again. READILY!! We pack up and move -- sometimes never looking back. We walk out of a job on our last day and never set foot in the building again. Why then, is it so hard for us to let go of something else temporary (ie: Earthy life) when we know our eternal life is forever??

"Well Miranda, I don't want to die because I don't want to leave my family." Guess what - God says you'll see them again. Oh, you already knew that? Then what's the problem? Imagine it's like a long vacation or business trip and at the end - we'll all stand at the pearly gates and catch up. I haven't totally reassured you and made you get over your fear of death? Darn - I was hoping I was that good. 

Your fear of death isn't about leaving your family on this side -- its that you won't see them again on the other side. That my friends is a lack of faith. I think I've realized most fear of death boils down to a lack of faith. Its that one little whisper of doubt. What if this life really is IT? What if this God-thing is a hoax? What if Heaven is a beautiful illusion that helps me make this life bearable? What if, what if, what if.

I haven't really solved the problem here, but maybe I've identified part of it for you.

He replied, "Because you have so little faith. I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you." Matthew 17:20 (NIV)

Faith as small as a mustard seed people!! That's all we need. Sure, we'll doubt. We'll lose loved ones and struggle with not being able to talk to them or touch them everyday. Sure we'll sit in church and wonder if all these amazing promises are going to come true. I don't have all the answers. But I do know this: I can muster up faith the size of a mustard seed. I can hold onto that when death seems too permanent and life far too temporary. You can too. It's like George Michael says "Ya gotta have faith".

Kharma's a .....Reality.

No, I didn't convert to Buddhism this week - but I have been thinking
a lot about kharma. For my fellow Christians -- lets call it reaping
and sowing. For the rest of you -- "what goes around, comes around". I
used to think of that only in the negative sense. I remember my mom
using the phrase when I would tell her about some wrong I suffered at
school. "Don't worry Miranda, what goes around comes around".

I see more dead people than the average person -- comes with the job.
I see families, I see friends --- trust me when I say, I see it ALL.
On one of our most recent death calls, what I noticed most was the look
on the face of the person who had passed. I had never met him before -
but I can tell you with positive certainty that he didn't have many
regrets in life. His family mourned the loss of a wonderful husband
and father. He loved and was loved. He lived an honorable life. And,
he most definitely saw the face of God as he entered the Kingdom of
Heaven.

What, you ask, does that have to do with kharma. A LOT. Do you think
the peace on his face came from a life of walking over other people,
of saying unkind things, of chosing what felt good rather than what
was right? Doubt it. Kharma lasts forever folks -- and I mean,
FOREVER. It's represented physically on the faces of those who go to
meet Jesus. On the hearts of the families who had the privledge of
loving and being loved by an amazing mom, dad, sibling. It's
represented eternally by where we spend our time after my van comes
and picks you up.

So, my friends - don't forget kharma. Don't forget the Golden Rule. It
has as much to do with death as it does with how you live your life.
Think about the family and friends you will leave behind --- did you
love them in the best way you could? Think about the homeless man on
the street --- do you really need that $5 in your purse? Yes, he might
by booze with it - but he might look at your kindness and see the face
of God -- for me, its worth the gamble.

My kharma blog got a little preachy -- but kindness, thoughtfulness
and gratitude is so lacking in this world that I felt the need to
climb my soap box, get as high as I could and send a message. When me
or another funeral director comes to pick you up -- what will they
see? A bickering family? A face full of torment and regret? Or an
outpouring of love for a life well lived and lived well. More
importantly, what will HE see when you leave this life to forever
dwell with Him?

Wait....I'm Not Immortal?!

Get really close to the computer and pay attention to this one folks....we're all gonna die. I know, I was shocked too.

 Living in the death care business, you think I would be very aware of my own mortality. Nope. Death is what happens to other people -- people we pick up from their homes or hospitals amid an array of grieving family members. Death is what happens to other people, not me.  So I was shocked, about two weeks ago, to suddenly realize that not only am I going to die --- it could happen any time. 

 I was laying in bed when the realization hit me. And when I say hit me -- it hit me. After a series of particularly difficult death calls and too much Red Bull -- I couldn't sleep. I laid awake and thought about my life. Thought about why I was here and what I would leave behind. Leave behind? Wait, in order for me to leave behind anything -- I would have to go somewhere. Whoa. I'm going somewhere....!!! Well, that's OK. I've told people a hundred times that I'm not afraid of death because I know where I'm going. I'm going to meet Jesus, so its all good. The part I didn't factor into the equation is that I have to leave this life to move onto the next one --- and last time I checked, that involves dying. 


So, I'm gonna die. I'm gonna be a death call for a funeral director. I'm gonna be a backache for the poor guy who has to dig my grave (unless they just vaporize us and zap us into space on flying cars by then....who knows?) I'm gonna die. Sorry to keep repeating it, but once it sinks in, it really sinks in. Now, I have no intention of going anywhere soon -- but being fully aware of your own mortality really puts life into perspective. Will anyone come to my funeral? Of course that would be my first thought. Do enough people like me to take time out of their day to mourn my passing?? I must remember to tell the funeral home to serve good food. And wine...that will draw a crowd. 


All of this aside -- the past few weeks of contemplating my own death have brought me to several conclusions. One, none of us really expect to die and unfortunately live as though we have all the time in the world. Two, Carpe Diem! I know that made this blog just take a turn toward cheesy town, but its true. I want a tattoo -- so I'm getting one. (sorry Hubbs). I want to go to Israel - so I'm going. (again, sorry Hubbs). The lawn can get mowed tomorrow, the dishes will still be in the sink and the laundry will continue to pile -- but the time I can spend with family and friends -- that's what really matters. And Three, I really need to start recruiting for my funeral.