Making Our Dreams Come True

11 Jul

Schlemiel, schlemazel, hasenfeffer incorporated.  While this post has little to do with Laverne and Shirley, I can’t help but include this little bit of the title song.  And since I’m Cliff Claven (apparently) let me learn you on those three unique words.  Schlemiel is a habitual bungler, someone who is perpetually screwing things up.  So, for instance, FEMA might be considered a schlemiel.  Next up, schlemazel.  This means a person who is perpetually unlucky.  I could maybe say Tiger Woods as an example here but I’m going to stick with FEMA.  As for hasenfeffer, that’s actually a dish made with pepper and bunny rabbit.  I’m sure it’s great but it’s one of many culinary dishes that takes a little getting used to if you’ve watched enough Disney.  I’ve eaten Bambi though so I’m sure that I can eat Thumper.

Mom is on the far left with her cousins Vicky and Becky on her right. Directly after this picture they broke into hijinx and shenanigans.

Now as to what this post is really about: dreams.  Don’t worry, this isn’t going to be an inspirational, made-for-Oprah tale, I promise.  I just wanted to share.  We lost Mom a year ago today and so I was reflecting on how that got me thinking that we should take this trip.  There’s many reasons for that but I’ll just share the two biggies: life is short and Mom would have wanted us to be happy (although this would have been much better achieved by her not dying, don’t you think?)

I don’t know when my ticket expires but I do know that at some point it will.  That in mind, my someday trip to Europe had to turn in to a planned one.  Instead of saying maybe next year I needed to get out a calendar and say when.  Since Mom left I’ve been trying to be better about doing instead of wishing.  That’s not always easy and it’s not always possible.  Especially when grief kicks you upside the head because it’s not exactly gentle with your insides, my friends.  And it’s murder on your hair.

Mom would like to know that we didn’t stop dreaming and hoping the moment she stopped breathing.  She’s still very much a part of our lives.  I find myself praying to her when I’ve misplaced something (which is at least three times a day).  It seems that she always places what I’ve been looking for in a place I’ve already checked but that’s definitely in keeping with her spirit.  As in, the “I’ll help you but you’re going to have to earn it” school of parenting.

Part of the trip I’ve got dreamed up is climbing the Duomo, lighting a candle in Nôtre Dame and enjoying a beer in Munich’s Hoffbräuhaus.  These are things that I not only want to do for myself but because they connect me to Mom.  She was a fanatic about Florence, the Dome especially.  Lighting a candle in such an enormous and historic place as the Nôtre Dame strikes me as comforting, as most prayer is.  And the beer?  Well, I like beer, for one.  In the basement of my childhood home in Bismarck, ND, there was a poster-sized picture of my parents with two beer steins.  The mugs were as large as their heads.  The look in their eyes was one that I wanted to have some day as they both looked content in where they were, what they were doing and who they were with.  If the Mister is game to drink beer with me then I’m game to have that moment with him. 

Yes, I’ll think of Mom on our trip but I won’t mourn her there.  I still miss her, I still have sad days and I still cry.  I wish that I could have more time with her and I wish that she were around to hear me talk about all the planning.  Still, I know that since she is gone, I’m able to go.  I no longer need to worry that Cancer will take her while I’m gone.  I no longer need to bank vacation days for a time I knew would come.  And I’ll be able to go and make my new memories to add to my old ones which include her in so many different ways.

We miss you, Mom.  We’re thinking of you today.  Oh and…  we’ll do it our way, yes our way.  Make all our dreams come true, for me and you.



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