something about a

there is something about a funeral. there is something about a place in time where life stands still. where life as we all know it sits in a purgatory of sorts, yet not of the one that has passed but to those that have to say good bye. interestingly enough, this purgatory of sorts is not a place of loneliness or solitude. it is a place, in this instance at a funeral where a generational timeline is seen and support runs rampant.


i open by saying that my thoughts and prayers are with those that have loved and lost, those that hurt and that will continue to search for what may grant them serenity in times of need and may they find what you are looking for.


i have seen my fair share of pain. i have witnessed and felt loss at many levels. i have collapsed to my knees in grief and i have stood strong in support. and, with all of these experiences under my belt, i have yet to feel or think like i have recently upon the loss of another.

as the line creeps and tears are swept aside, i begin to contemplate the moments and the time that has been placed in front of me. usually in instances like this, one is captivated by thoughts of what to say, how it may relate, how to act, or even where to sit. however, perhaps considering my presence is more as support, i can't help but relate on a level of observation.

condolences are shared, and hugs are exchanged. we sit. silent. anxiousness continues to fester.

i cannot help but scan the beautiful church pews. one by one, each person with a different connection. each experiencing loss on a different level. each coping with a distance they have no means to control. each struggling in a silent fight. the doors close and we rise to our feet. the atmosphere is tense, heavy. i am stuck in a moment watching the pain that deafens the room of a husband who has lost his HS sweetheart, a son who is numb, a fiancé who can only be so strong and lastly, a mother. a mother who is sickened with grief, who's face is tired and heart is broken. i am immediately humbled by their loss and i begin to think about generations.

here you have a husband who has lost his pillar, his partner, his wife and a son who's only woman in his life has up until this point been his mother. now, in such turn of tragic events a son is left clinging to his fiancé, and a father is left alone with no shoulder to turn too or cheek to comfort. and i turn to see what had hit me so hard... a mother, there's a mother who has no lessons to teach or guidance to give, yet is being taught the most difficult lesson life can give.

its stunning while looking across a church with choral hymns being sung at perfect poise and with such robust emotion i am able to capture so many  thoughts. in these moments,  it's as if there is no sound coming from any of those who's tears seem to shatter to the floor. its a silent pain that each person is dealing with differently and as they grasp to the person next to them for support, there is a father and a husband who is left gripping the pew in front of him, defeated. her absence has left him alone, with the support and love of many yet the comfort of the one no longer to be found. its as if there has been a generational gap. his partner in this time frame is being "woken from her sleep" and he is left clinging for strength. meanwhile, his son is left to look towards the only other woman in his life who fits the perfect mold. and a mother is left hanging to what remains.

life is precious and can be touched in so many ways. it is through experiencing things like this as an observer that i am humbled and reminded of what it means to be loved, what it means to love, and how strong it really can be to have both. it is through pain that strength is found and through life that love can exist and after another unfortunate reminder, i find that there is something about life that becomes more valued, even in the wake of death.

the perfect hug

a hug from my dad is one of my favorite things in life. my dads hugs are warm, strong, long and well, if you don't mind me saying,  he gives "the perfect hug". they are the best prescription to any little girls heartache, headache, annoyance or frustration. they are the best remedy for whatever is unwavering. and i mean, whatever is unwavering. so through bad grades, fights with friends, stress at work or an absent heart, this quick fix is always one for the book.

sure as hell better than any little pill...

with my dad being a big guy he tends to wrap his whole heart, soul, arms, chest and body into his hugs... at least with me. my dad is one  of those people who is real with what he shows... anger and love alike. equal passion in both are very evident. however, with that said, i think as his daughter i can speak on behalf of something no one else can. a dads hug, my dads hugs more specifically are unlike any other.

these things are incredible. they are encompassing, almost filling and well, at times they even make it hard to breath (the good kind of course). sure, it might be my awkward height and his strong arms, or well... that he will say things like "harder!" and squeezes until my face is red,  if for some reason he can't feel the real-ness, yah know, can't feel that i'm showing him the love he may deserve in that moment.  his hugs are just long enough to make a girl who has been so far away, feel right at home... no matter the zip code of which they may take place.  sometimes i think the strength behind them is to make up for all of those times as a little girl he literally would have strangled me if he'd hugged as hard as he does now.. so maybe he is just making up for lost time? his hugs symbolize comfort, security and love as they should, because after all...a girls dad always provides big shoes to fill. (especially with hugs like his)

so, i thought it best to share that i admire that... i love that my dad actually calls me out (to no ones surprise i'm sure) if the hug is not up to par. i'm thankful that he has and always will force a better hug...because, sometimes...all you need is a hug from your dad.

ps. i'd love a hug from my dad.
goodnight.

Europe

what is it about Europe? is it old world charm? cobble streets shimmering after an afternoon rain? is it the lovely pubs that line the streets or is it simply the history, or well, the style? you know THAT style. what is it about Europe that has us Americans so wound up and excited? even i have a soft spot in my brain and maybe my heart for a place that i have never been. sure, i have experienced it through friends studying abroad or well, facebook. but, what is it about across the pond that allows for such an idealistic thought of.."oh, i could live in that cottage with that super tiny fridge and no oven! it would be charming!"....uh? no. doubt it.

regardless, London, home of the 2012 summer Olympics and an absolutely perfect backdrop for all of those wanna visit, yummy pub and oh the beautiful pictures i could take thoughts. it makes for a little bit of jealousy when seeing those who are working the summer Olympics, literally getting to experience something unlike no other. but, with great experiences comes cost, and with cost comes bills and with bills come stress. and with that, comes my mindset. oops, just call me debbie.

surely it will be great to experience those things on my own time, because mark my words, i will. and until then we have the Olympics. a global combination of athleticism, patriotism, pride and respect...a wonder to watch from afar. and until my trip across the pond, i will find comfort in the fact that things won't be overpriced due to the Olympics being in town. #win #alwaysthinking

The iconic phone booth, oh and big ben!

a little irish man, oh wait, i mean pub! 

Real life castle...duh.

U-S-A!

down by the sea shore

There is something interesting, captivating even about the beach, or better yet the shore. Those who know me best know that the beach is a place that makes me feel whole. It's the perfect spot for just about anything and is always a safe haven whenever one may need. [if you haven't sat on a lifeguard stand during sunset, you have not lived. #markmywords]

The beach is great for many things including relaxing, thinking, tanning, crying, swimming or just plain people watching.  with that said, there is one thing that is specifically interesting to me about sand lined shores. This would have to be people's need to shell search. Little girls, teens, moms and grandmothers alike are drawn to them.

I absolutely love watching people scour the sand in search for that perfect shell or even better yet, an LBI piece of sea glass. Some carry plastic bags and pick very carefully, others dig their hands in, do a little shake and wash, and then just stare at the wonder that is in front of them, wishing for the chance at hitting the shell jackpot. you know the kind...a full conch shell, or a beautiful purple clam.

you see, not everyone who shell searches is a crafter or even an avid collector. not everyone really even needs them, or will have a place for them once the day comes to a close. however the urge to pick up and collect these small treasures is like an act the arm can't control. It's amazing to me that no matter what the age, shell searching makes you feel like that little ponytail kid you once were. It has a sense of youth attached to it unlike anything else. It's romantic, addicting even. quite honestly, it is the perfect remedy for when you are indeed 23 and well, just want to feel like that little kid back on the beach, ready to show your small discovery to mom or dad...a very proud moment for sure....you know the kind.

so, with that, happy shell searching.

pen and paper

i used to write in notebooks, college ruled and metal bound. i used to write when it was a rough day, i was upset or even when i just simply had something to say and didn't want to tell a single soul. it was therapeutic. kind of like what a blog has become, however the trick with the blog is that you open up the pages for people to see.

you see, this is all very very different from the notebook sheets i'd tear up and throw out in thought of some one catching a glimpse at something that i wouldn't dare say in person. it was just something that served as an outlet however i have found that outlets in a hometown were in abundance where has here, not so much. hence, the blog.. i guess? i have wanted so much to find a spot, find a windy road or a "wawa" that i could drive too just to, well, just to drive too. i have wanted to find a parking spot, or a park that is safe and serene for when its too early to go to bed, but too late to well, do anything else to just sit, windows down, rain or shine.  i find myself in this in between phase where i could probably go to the gym, but already went in the morning. i don't want to go to work well because i spent 10 hours there already, and i don't want to go to the store and shop, well, because i have no money... and well., gas is too expensive to drive to the beach whenever I'm restless. so, insert blog.

now, problem with that is that i could get gritty, nasty, super sappy and even too miserable at times for a blog...hence why good ole pen and paper is still best. so, now, the question is does it have the same effect as it did years ago... is it as therapeutic to pick up a pen, tear out a piece of wrinkled paper from a bound back notebook and just write. not tell a story, not reflect on something that you had experienced during the day...no. just. write. the best kind of writing is unguarded, its unhabitual and it is natural, something that i have found is the opposite of an every day blog post.

sure, when it just comes to you, it can be good.. kind of like those really good songs that just hit an artist, but, for the average sally like myself, it can be taxing. it invokes a thought process, like eh, should i REALLY put that out there? should i actually be saying this? i mean, its the internet, and well.. there are people that i work with that have the ability to click and walk into Sara's world...scary part, i'd have no idea.. i'd have absolutely know idea that if when i saw Mary or Harry they had the night before read every little word and judged till there was nothing else to judge. yet, wouldn't say a word too you about it anyway... kind of scary right? yeah, i think so too.

but, maybe thats the rewarding apart about getting older, getting more comfortable and well, being true to yourself. sure, a pen and a paper is always good, and probably always best, but a free form of thought which could be shared or interpreted will serve a purpose bigger than i may really know, and that is kind of cool. so as i sit here, too early to go to bed, and too late to go to the only other place where the shoe fits (wonder where that is?)... i find myself tearing out a piece of paper and clicking  a pen..... however, today, the keyboard just felt like a better fit.

reminded me of a song: Anna Nalick, Breathe. perfect for pen and paper, but when you don't know the rest, a blog post will do. am i right ashley kunkle? ;)

"cus these words are my diaries screaming out loud and i know that you'll use them however you want too.."

smells like home

there is something about a crockpot that makes a house or, an apartment a home. today: it was pizza pasta. some green peppers, onions, pepperoni, pasta, sauce and cheese...an instant italian dinner that swirls ones head as soon as you walk in the front door.

i can thank my parents for this little fix. it's almost just what the doctor ordered. after being less than enthused about being here miles away from friends and family a package full of my favorite things, including a crockpot and how to cook whatever it is that makes me feel at home has proven to do wonderful things. coming home today from the store with the crockpot dinner going on 6 hours made this apartment feel as warm as a cold fall night in PA surrounded by the dogs, the rest of the gang and a good movie.

so, tonight... it's pizza pasta, tv and a little R&R.

tomorrow: apple crisp. YUM!

hard to love

women are moody. fact. women are always right. not a fact, however, i feel that if you know what is best you'll find someway to make them feel that that is actually the case (maybe not entirely...but enough). it's like those shows on TLC or HGTV where they are interviewing the couple; "so what do you want this room to look like?" "me? what do I want? eh, happy wife, happy life" #sorryimnotsorry #thatisagoodanswer


now, i will say that i appreciate someone with an opinion, maybe even if it is a different opinion than what i have (sometimes)..but, feeling like you are always on the same page with another is crucial. it, to me, is what makes one say "that's my best friend" not, "we compliment each other". sure, complimenting each other is good, nice even... but no one wants to be a compliment...the want to be mandatory pieces of a two piece puzzle. you can't have a finished product without the other piece. that's not a compliment.. it is a necessary.  it is like i said, crucial.


maybe a little mix up from the standard, but i heard a song a while back, and it didn't really hit me until this morning...

Hard to Love
I am insensitive I have a tendency to pay more attention to the things that
I need.
Sometimes I drink too much, sometimes I test your trust, sometimes I dunno
Why you're staying with me?

I'm hard to love, hard to love, I don't make it easy, I couldn't do it if I
Stood where you stood
I'm hard to love, hard to love, you say that you need me, I don't deserve
It but I love that you love me. good.

I am a short fuse, I am a wrecking ball crashing into your heart like I do
You're like a Sunday morning full of grace and full of Jesus I wish that I
Could be more like you.
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I'm hard to love, hard to love, I don't make it easy, I couldn't do it if I
Stood where you stood, 
I'm hard to love, hard to love, you say that you need me, I don't deserve
It but I love that you love me. Goood
Love me good

Girl you've given me a million second chances and I don't ever wanna take
You for granted, I'm just a man, I'm just a man

Hard to love, hard to love, oh I don't make it easy and I couldn't do it if
I stood where you stood.
I'm hard to love, hard to love and you say that you need me, I don't
Deserve it but I love that you love me. good. (x2)

You love me good.