A Life Well Lived

We were born 20 days apart with just 2 houses sitting between our own.  My dad taught him how to swim; his dad taught me how to ride a bike.  

We were always outside, waiting for the tell-tale whistle from his parents at dusk, letting us know it was time to come in for dinner and bed. 

In our early teens, he would climb the tree in front of my house, clamber up the roof and knock.  There was a landing just outside of my window and we would sit there, contemplating life until we were caught.  

His parents had been married just shy of 45 years when his mom succumbed to cancer this past September. 

The funeral was held in late October and just 5 days later, with the fragrance of the funeral flowers still permeating the living room, his dad passed away from sudden cardiac arrest, right into my friend’s arms.  It was two days before their 45th anniversary and we all collectively knew, he had died from a broken heart. 

My mother and I had wept during Mr. White’s eulogy for his wife.  He spoke of their first date- when Mrs. White had invited him to lie underneath a Christmas tree to watch the twinkling lights. 

Mr. White then compared those twinkling lights to the thousands upon thousands of prayers family and friends had sent up to God as cancer ravaged his beloved’s body.

And then, just like that, he was gone, too. 

My friend and I stood in the kitchen where he had administered CPR to his dad, just hours before and we hugged, screamed and sobbed.  At 39 years-old we still felt like children, never ever having been in his parents’ house without them there.  

Shocked and numb, I drove away, contemplating the loss. 

Mr. White’s eulogy had been full of love and awe for his wife and the life they had shared. 

And I wondered, 

“What is a well-lived life?”  

Have I lived one? 

Am I living one?

In this distracted day-in-age, it feels all too easy to lose sight of the most important part of life:

Our connection to others. 

And if that is the meaning of life, 

Then I’ve lived it well.  

Let us all lie under the Christmas tree and watch the twinkling lights. 

The First Step

Have you ever had moments in your life when you feel like time stops?

It’s remarkable. 

It happened once when I was eleven.

And it happened again today when I read a line from an advice column:

“Children of alcoholics are often on high alert trying to anticipate other people’s feelings, so they can try to head off problems or incidents before they become overwhelming.”

The camera of my life came into focus. 

The dots connected. 

And for a moment, time stopped

As my mind rewinded

To the friendships I had ruined by suffocating them with my need to control

And the relationships I had endured because I expected no better.  

My desperate need for security. 

My present-day Type A personality. 

I am a child of an alcoholic. 

And it shows, still today. 

It’s not an excuse. 

But it does help to explain how I came to be. 

And for me, that’s the first step.

Time starts again.

New Leaf Parenting.

Every Day is a Fresh Start.

Original Article: https://www.pilotonline.com/advice/ct-aud-ask-amy-20221215-mgo2iskwwfehneze7tiqqapi6y-story.html

Coach

What makes a coach?

I always assumed it was a prestigious group. 

Maybe she was born with it.

Maybe it was Maybelline?

Whatever it was, I never in a hundred-million-years believed it could have been me. 

But then I learned of this organization that took athleticism and married it with girl-power-inspiration and I fell in love. 

As a mother of four daughters, how could I not represent? 

Girls on the Run. 

I started the process and reached for the help I needed to make it possible. 

And isn’t it amazing how help arrives 

When we give ourselves the permission to ask for what we need?

Here they came, from the brinks: 

She, a previous GOTR coach with grown children. 

Her, a working mother of four. 

My friend, an invested military mom. 

And the one who made our expansion from 15 to 22 possible- the outlier, willing to commit for the greater good.  

Together we shared the responsibility and together we led.

22 girls. 

11 weeks.

One 5K. 

She believed she could. 

So, she did. 

Girls on the Run.

Life is Short

“Life is short.  Get a divorce.”

I audibly chuckled when I saw this highway billboard on the way home from South Carolina today.

I mean, if only it were so simple.

Things get tough?  Quit. 

Life is short, after all. 

As a child of divorce, I can honestly say that when my mom and step-dad “announced’ their separation, I was relieved. 

No more pretending.  No more arguing. 

Maybe they could be happy, after all?

I didn’t realize that it would lead to him deserting me forever.  

Or that I would find it impossible to spend another holiday with my step-siblings I had known since I was two.   

We were now split three ways.  Who could blame us?

Instead,  I take a hard look at my own marriage and give grace and ask for the same in return. 

We were madly in love. 

And then we had four children.

And that is really hard.  

But we are committed to remembering who we once were and who we are becoming. 

No need to pretend. 

No need to argue. 

We can be happy.

Things get tough.

Nothing is simple.

Life is short, after all. 

Camille Vaughan Photography