One of the best things Tracey ever did for me was open me up to travel. In order to get me on this trip to Saint Marteen, she had to buy non-refundable tickets and tell me, "I'm going with or without you and you're paying for both seats either way."
So glad she did. We had a great time and it was the first of many trips for us.
I remember as we were on final approach to Saint Martin (the dutch side), I looked out the window of our PanAm jet at the hotels on the glidepath and thought, "what idiots are staying THERE." Just as I thought it, Tracey turned to me from the window saying, "look, Charlie, there's OUR hotel!"
This picture, taken in our room, says it all.
UPDATE:
Here is actual footage of jets landing on St. Martin. The last hotel on the right you see in the background just before touchdown is the one Tracey's pictured waving from here. Yes, it was THAT close.
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We began taking pictures of John before he was even born. She was so excited to have a baby on the way. We didn't find out if it was boy or girl till the moment he was born. What difference would it make? Life holds so few wonderful surprises, it made sense to let this one wait...
On Decebember 17th at 8:05am, our lives changed forever.
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If you read down further, you'll see how Tracey loved Thanksgiving. It was really the start of her adventures with cooking. Here's the culmination of her efforts: our last Thanksgiving six years ago. The perfect bird from her dream oven; she picked every appliance in that kitchen and later added whatever was missing. Though she chose an convection-capable oven, she preferred the conventional approach.
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The only thing Tracey enjoyed visiting more than old Missions, were ancient archaeological remains. Our best trip ever--and our worst--was to Tikal in Mexico. We traveled there by way of Guatemala. While we didn't drink the water, Tracey did have a salad. Duh. She was so sick the day we visited the remains, I thought I might have to carry her. Still, she was happy for having had the experience of seeing the most amazing dig in modern history.
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When my sister got married, we all flew out to Salt Lake City. It's the farthest west Tracey had ever been to date. (We later trekked to Seattle.) Breaking away from the group, we drove over to the Great Salt Lake to make sure we had a mantle picture. They say it's so salty you can't sink; what they don't tell you is it actually repels you long before you get wet because the lake stinks.
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One of the things we were always thankful for is having taken time to travel before becoming parents. And, did Tracey love to travel. When I landed my job at KIKK, she was so excited to learn the sales staff went on an annual trip together. (Anyone in the business can tell how long ago THAT was.)
We went to Puerto Vallarta, Cozumel, Playa Del Carmen, and Taos--all on the company dime. Oh, those were the days when radio was all about the product.
She was happiest when she had her passport and a boarding pass in her hand. And, as Dr. Seuss might say, oh the places we did go.
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Okay, maybe that's overstating it a bit. But it's close to the way we were. Still, it is the good times we remember--if that song is to be believed. When we journey up to the buccolic expanses of New York state for her brother's wedding, we simply HAD to make the trek to Niagra Falls. I'm certain there's a snow globe somewhere in our attic from this trip.
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There's only one person who's ever completely believed in me by choice. Something she once said typified her steadfast commitment to the man she loved. I had just landed the job in Houston and flew home to the Cape. Word got to her before I did. When I called to give her the news, she simply said, "when do we leave."
At every twist in the road, she was always willing to trust and support. In those trying times and the star-studded ones, I could always hear her acclaim from behind the spotlight in the balcony of my dreams. I still can.
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On our first wedding anniversary, we rushed home to our new apartment after work to enjoy the long-frozen top of our wedding cake. Mom must have done something right when she made it, because it was just as good a year later. We had just moved into our third apartment (in two years) and were so excited to have a shaded patio. She glowed so perfectly that day. So glad I caught the moment.
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There was a time when we had just one. Alex (as we called him then) was a gift from God. While neither of us really had any idea of what we were getting into (or doing at times), he was glue that held us together as we figured it out. He still is.
Even though he prefers being called John these days, there's a shimmer of that round little man still in his twinkling eyes.
We took this one on his first trip home to Grammy's house (the one I grew up in) back in New Hampshire. Mom made he delightful ensemble. I've saved it for HIS little man.
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Before we moved from Cape Cod, I remember visiting a Portuguese bakery and asking them to create a birthday cake with a flamingo on it. How I wish there was a picture of that cake. Tracey described it as a pink duck with long legs. She loved it all the same.
This fine specimin was created by the far more worldly artists at Fiesta, Houston's leading Hispanic grocer.
There was something about flamingos that made my sweetie's eyes light up. It was either because they were delightfully tacky in most applications, or that they stood out on their own terms. Either way, I remember when we moved into our first house, she put plastic ones in our flower beds. They vanished one night without a trace. For a long time she thought I did it. Then, our neighbor admitted that her no-good, two-timing (former) husband did it--and bragged to his friends about it.
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How better to celebrate Mothers Day than honoring Tracey and the blessed mother? The idea came in a flash as I discussed landscaping around the Mary statue we donated to the kids' school. The kids and I completed the job in just under five hours--sort of. The stones were delivered Friday; John and I placed them in the circle. Saturday, another school parent stripped out the sod. In the afternoon of a typically-packed Saturday, the kids and I made four trips to bring over the soil (18 2-cubic foot bags) and mulch (6 more bags). Then, after Mother's Day Mass, the kids and I dragged, dug, poured, raked and planted. Five hours later, we finished what you see here... It's the first time I've ever planted a single flower. I'm confident that within the next two weeks, I'll get my nails clean again. Fr. Mario took time to come out and bless her in memory of Tracey. It was a special day I hope they'll remember for a long time.
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Kate received a school assignment earlier this year: write an autobiographical story about a significant moment in her life. Her prose gives a glimpse into the pain she is just now starting to process from the day my friends Gene and Cathy swooped in to take the kids away as we figured out what we were going to do and say...
"And I thought my life was perfect. Well, it wasn't. I was wearing a pink leotard, purple tutu and white new tennis shoes when we pulled up to Gene and Cathy's house. Cathy gave me orange sparkly wings and we played fairies for an hour or so. That's when I got a call from dad. I had to stay the night! I was so excited until I wondered why...
We decided we would play mermaids and princesses until 9:00. Cathy fell asleep at 9:05. As for me, I stayed up to worry.
When we woke up, we played knights and princesses. Finally, Gene said he was going to take me to daddy.
I saw daddy's car at the park. Daddy motioned me over and waved at Gene. Daddy told me mommy died. Automatically, I thought he was kidding. When he told me he wasn't, I cried.
Wen I got home, everyone was crying. When I asked Uncle Bud why? The baby was born, wasn't she?
Uncle Bud said, "Kate they're not crying sad tears, they're crying tears of joy."
So, as you can see, my life isn't perfect. But, it's better than most."
--Kate.
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Holding a baby in its dawning moments on earth is a divine experience. These are moments when God is literally in the room, breathing life into new life just as He did the universe. It seems fitting as we close in on Mother's Day to assemble those four magic moments.
John, Dec '93
Kate, May '96
Stella, Jun '98
And, Zuzu, Mar '02:
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Wordy by Patty Griffin
I heard this song in the movie Elizabethtown and it connected so perfectly with the feelings of that day when I came home to our home, thereafter my house.
"Long Ride Home"
Long black limousine
Shiniest car I've ever seen
The back seat is nice and clean
She rides as quiet as a dream
Someone dug a hole six long feet in the ground
I said goodbye to you and I threw my roses down
Ain't nothing left at all in the end of being proud
With me riding in this car, and you flying through the clouds
I've had some time to think about you
And watch the sun sink like a stone
I've had some time to think about you
On the long ride home
One day I took your tiny hand
Put your finger in the wedding band
Your daddy gave a piece of land
We laid ourselves the best of plans
Forty years go by with someone laying in your bed
Forty years of things you say you wish you'd never said
How hard would it have been to say some kinder words instead
I wonder as I stare up at the sky turning red
I've had some time to think about you
And watch the sun sink like a stone
I've had some time to think about you
On the long ride home
Headlights staring at the driveway
The house is dark as it can be
I go inside and all is silent
It seems as empty as the inside of me
I've had some time to think about you
And watch the sun sink like a stone
I've had some time to think about you
On the long, on the long
Oh the long, on the long
On the long ride home
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I can't remember when they were so small. And yet, the seeds of who they've become are clearly visible. It's also plain to see the joy in Tracey's smile.
John's protective nature holds mom with both hands. Kate's squirming to get just where SHE wants to be. Stella sits placidly in the middle. And, at the heart of it all, Tracey holds everything that matters most in the world to her.
From John's birth forward, her children were the center of Tracey's world. Sure, she had other interests and gave them ample attention. But, when her kids called, everything else waited.
I finally figured this out around the time Stella came along. Loving them--even when they're not so lovable--as time together speeds by is a lesson she taught by example.
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When we first met, Tracey freely admitted the kitchen was an unexplored territory to her. After a few years of heat-and-eat and dining out, she began exploring the kitchen, trying new things--with varying levels of success.
Her first big day came on Thanksgiving 1987 when she invted a room full of friends for a dinner all her making. Having experienced earlier efforts, I was a tad relieved to be called into work that day.
How I wish it had been different.
Tracey's first turkey dinner was a huge hit. That's how it was with her: when Tracey set her mind to it, it got done.
In the years to follow, Thanksgiving became her annual can-I-top-me kitchen experience. It was a secondary anniversary for us celebrating her culinary growth annually.
This picture was taken one year when my mom came for the "big meal." Tracey tried something new that didn't quite pan out. So, we decided to call this our first "blackened turkey" dinner.
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If there was a moment that exemplified the BETTER part of the "better or worse" vow, this is it.
We had just bought the house on Castle Ridge and went to Seabrook to pick out each and every plant the landscapers would install the following week. It was late. We were on the water. And I somehow just happened to have reservations at a B&B in old Kemah (long since Fertita'd into oblivion).
This was a moment for Tracey when all her dreams had come true. It's there in her smile, brighter than the sun setting behind her.
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Today marks 48 years since Tracey was gifted to us by God. It also marks five years and a week since God took her home again. This seems a good time to start something new to keep her memory alive--and not a moment too soon.
Tonight her babies and I celebrated the day with cupcakes while writing notes to mom. Tethered to colorful balloons, we watched as they flew free, climbing higher toward her. Each of them has grown in ways beyond description. And yet, I can tell her memory is fading for them.
So, I begin this blog to share stories and pictures of Tracey. It's for them. It's for you.
Here's the cool part: click on the SUBSCRIBE button over there on the right and new updates will be sent to you automatically. AND, if you feel moved to do so, you can add comments to any of the entries put on the site.
Stories shared. People connected. Tracey would love that.
She has gone on ahead of us but lives on here in our hearts.
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