Truthiness Tuesday--The Unpainted Me

There's a new Flickr group called Self-Portrait Truthiness and it's all about posting photos of ourselves in our bare skin. The idea brought back memories of my dad who was not a fan of make-up and who would always emphasize the importance of cultivating inner beauty, and not focusing on what I looked like on the outside. I have to admit that at the time, all I could think about was that all my friends got to wear make-up and I didn't and how I couldn't wait to be old enough to do what I wanted so I could wear some damn eye-liner and lipstick.

So I grew up to be the type of person who wouldn't go out in public without doing her makeup. I remember going camping with a bunch of my friends in my mid-twenties, and early in the morning, I was sitting at a picnic table looking into a mirror and curling my lashes, and I could sense some of my friends staring at me, and I declared, "Don't judge me." When I went on a week-long canoe trip w/ my friend John, he forbade me from wearing makeup on the trip, the thought of which horrified me at the time, but I think I managed to sneak in my eyelash curler.

Now that I'm a mother, I'm coming to terms with the values regarding outward beauty that I want to pass on to Cadence, which are surprisingly similar to what my dad tried to convey to me, although I won't forbid her from wearing makeup if that's what she chooses. This means that I will have to become comfortable in my own bare skin, so that she sees that you can be beautiful and feel beautiful without the aid of cosmetics or the latest fashions.

Honestly, I think that some of the most beautiful women I've ever seen are those who don't wear any makeup, even if their faces are weathered and wrinkled. If I can acknowledge the beauty and grace in the pure naked faces of other women, surely I can do the same for myself.

Happy Thanksgiving!

It's hard to believe that Thanksgiving is already here. I for one am grateful for a bit of a break from work. It's been rather busy, and I think the stress is what was causing all my migraines this past month. I haven't had once since last Monday morning, though, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

Ted was sick in bed all day today with what seemed to be flu-like symptoms. I'm really hoping the chicken soup and lemon/ginger/honey concoctions will nip this illness in the bud. We can't to go his family's for Thanksgiving dinner if he's sick, as his two grandmas will be there. He's much better tonight, so I'm thankful for that! :)

I know that Thanksgiving is a time for family and all that good stuff, and I couldn't help thinking how difficult the whole holiday season must be for those who have no family, or for those who have recently lost loved ones. I haven't gotten too emotional about my dad in a really long time, but I did yesterday at work, just totally out the blue, with tears and everything. I think it was because the night before, I had gone to a gathering, and someone had brought their father who was visiting from England. There was something about the gentleman that reminded me of my dad, and I really missed him then.

Memories are funny that way. Just the tiniest thing can set 'em off. The twinkle in someone's eyes, the clarity and passion in someone's voice, the pattern of wrinkles on someone's face...Any one of these things can bring on the Flood.

I sometimes forget that the ache is still there. After all, one of my blog posts IS the #2 search result on google for "I miss my dad", second only to imissmydad.com. How that happened, I don't know. Every time one of them comments on that post, I think about all the people out there missing someone they love...

Anyhoo, I wish all of you fine folks a happy thanksgiving, and if you find yourself alone or lonely on this day and maybe on other days, know that if I were with you, I'd give you big hug...

*Heart*strings

Today is the five-year anniversary of the day my dad died. Yesterday would have been his 69th birthday. We went to the cemetery with my mom and brother yesterday early evening. I hadn't been there in a long time. I understand that some people derive comfort or the fulfillment of some sense of obligation or duty by visiting their loved ones' gravesites. I used to think that I would too, but every time I would visit, all I felt was a big emptiness, so I stopped going except to accompany my mom on momentous occasions.

There is a part of me that is irreparably wounded due to the experience of watching my father die. In some ways, I've closed the door to that compartment of my heart that is made of a mangled, bloody mess. I don't talk about it to my mom or my brother or anyone else. I don't talk about it even to myself. And I'm okay with that for right now.

I happened to be driving behind this truck going down Devon Ave on Sunday afternoon. I've seen it parked in our neighborhood, and it always makes me mad, like what the f*ck do YOU care where I'd go if I were to die today? Can you do a scan of my soul and tell me whether I'd make the cut? I'd really like to write a letter to stick beneath the windshield wiper that says, 'I'M GOING TO DISNEYLAND, WHERE ELSE YOU MORON?!' It really annoys me when Christians use fear to coerce people into "saying the sinner's prayer."

Well, my dad DID die one night 5 years ago, so where did he go? To be with Jesus, I suppose, but WTF does that MEAN? I don't understand what Heaven is. I don't understand Eternity. I don't understand why every day I wake up and I still can't believe my dad's not alive. I still see him in my dreams a couple times a week, and he's so real that when I wake up to the reality that it was only a dream, it's like another little kick in the gut. Not quite the kick in the gut as when he REALLY died five years ago, but nevertheless, a little kick.

And yet, there is a part of me that can't help but believe that someday I will see my dad again. That someday, he will get to hold his granddaughter whom he's never met, whom he would have fallen totally head-over-heels in love with, more so than he ever had with me. I don't know how all that works out logistically; I mean, I would like Cadence to have a long and healthy life, so I don't know if she'd be a little girl in heaven or a grown-up version or what, and I'm starting to sound really crazy as I'm writing this, but it's my blog and I can be deranged if I want to, I guess.