This is my first entry. I'm nervous. Don't know what to think of this blogging stuff. I'm an avid journalist, so I'm telling myself that I just need to write as if I'm writing in my journal. I've been journaling since I was ten years old - a long time. When I got married, I threw away those first journals. Now I wish I hadn't. So - word of advice - keep journals and never throw them away. Someone told me that they ended up with a sister's journals. The children of the sister wanted them destroyed, but my friend said she wasn't sure what to do. I asked her not to thrown them away - that she didn't need to read them, but that the sister wouldn't have wanted to spend all those years writing the words from her heart and then have them destroyed. It would be like saying her life didn't count for anything. So I say, keep those journals. No one needs to read them, but they should at least be saved.
There! The first words are out. I'm good to go.
I am very very sore tonight. Our appliances were delivered today for the log cabin and I had to move a whole bundle of tongue and groove lumber so the guys could bring the appliances into the house. I worked pretty hard and actually finished before they arrived. I also cleaned up the inside of the cabin. It was in pretty bad shape with trash and wood chips and sawdust and scraps of wood. I was pretty excited about getting the appliances. It sort of symbolizes something. I have to admit that I have not believed in this project. When we decided to do it, I wanted it with all my heart. But once we got started, I started floundering. Is the place too big? Will we be able to afford it? Can we build it ourselves? Will we finish it? I had lots of doubts. I cried a lot. Roy, my husband, never doubted. His faith was steadfast. He was an inspiration to me and sometimes his faith kept me going when nothing inside myself could. This has been the hardest thing we've ever done. It took more help than we thought we'd need. I felt bad because we were supposed to be building it mostly ourselves, but we depended on others so much. Every step of the way was very slow and very hard. We had lots of good days when things seemed to go quickly and look so wonderful. Then we had lots of bad days when it was wet or too hot or too cold or there wasn't enough help.
Then the logs were up. And in the middle of that - of starting on the roof - my dad came to live with us. I hadn't seen much of my dad in probably 30 years. I don't know who's fault that was. I wrote to my dad and I sent him things. But he seldom answered. He was only here three months. He died on December 30th. We knew he was going to die, but not when. He seemed to be getting better actually. He was almost totally deaf. In that three months we never really got to talk. I think that's one of my biggest regrets. I thought we had more time. I thought eventually I'd be able to get him a hearing aide. I thought we'd get the cabin done and he'd get to move into it and be move comfortable. When he came to us, we were living in an RV (still are), and we put him in the other RV. I think he was disappointed about everything. I think he was very unhappy here. I think he was lonely and wanted so desperately to have a family life. I couldn't make it happen. He didn't want to really come over to our RV and his was too small for family get-togethers. Plus it was hard to be with him. He couldn't hear, so you couldn't talk to him. He didn't watch TV or listen to the radio since he was deaf. So when you visited him, he would reminisce about the old days and we would listen.
Last night I was thinking about him. I guess my main memory is of him just sitting over there. He sat over there in silence. We had a baby monitor and so we could hear if he needed help. He never said a word when he was alone. All I could hear was the oxygen machine. He just sat there on the little couch in silence and all alone. Sometimes I'd hear him fixing himself something to eat. But he was mostly alone. Once when I was over there, he was crying. He said he was so lonely. He said he saw me coming and going a lot, but I wasn't coming and going to see him. I feel bad about how much time he was alone over there. I know in my heart that I did my best. I was over there quite a bit. I tried so hard to make him happy. It wasn't possible - at least not in our circumstances. But now he's gone. I got to know him a little better, but it was a disapointment for him. I know this whole thing is kind of rambling, but that's sort of how my emotions and thoughts are about him. I can't think about it much, but it's always there in the back of my mind. It was a really hard time. And it was at a really difficult time.
Now the roof is on the cabin. The stairway is built, so we can walk up and down without ladders and without going outside and around. No more mud. No more sweeping up water. I'm beginning to think it might actually happen - we might actually finish. Today, the appliances arriving - that made it seem especially real. I'm so tired. I need to finish it soon. My business has suffered because of the building of the cabin. It's very stressful dividing myself up. My clients are getting more and more frustrated with me. Some days I wonder if I should just give it up and get a regular job. I keep telling myself that if I can just hang in there a little while longer, it'll get better. The little while longer becomes a lot longer though and still I'm waiting. This project has tested me. I think the house is going to be absolutely fantastic and we're going to love living there. We'll be glad we did it. I guess it's good that we couldn't foresee how hard it would be, because we may have changed the whole thing if we had.
My plate is full. I took care of my dad. I ran my business. I painted three paintings for Stamp Services. I'm doing framing for Roy's new building. I'll be painting a mural. The races start pretty soon and filming and editing those will add more to my plate. I need to concentrate on growing my business.
Even though I'm overwhelmed, I guess I wouldn't want it any other way. I never ever ever regret selling our house in Drum Point and building this house. This project has been healing. It healed many of the wounds I've carried since childhood. It set things right. It makes our decision to sell the cabin in Gettysburg right. I regretted that and missed it so much. I almost mourned that other cabin. It wasn't just a place to live - it was a lifestyle. We were headed in the right direction. I have to admit, though, that our time in Drum Point was wonderful, too. I am amazed at how many great memories I have there with my family and with friends. All those movie nights when teenagers were all over the couches and all over the floor. And I made the cinnamon muffins and toll house cookies. And Gabriel was there. I miss Gabriel. It was wonderful being the center of someone's universe.
Ah, well. We'll see where this blogging thing goes. I'm going to take a couple of Advil and see what's on TV. The wind is howling outside and it's supposed to rain. Tomorrow is Friday. That's a good thing - that it'll be Friday.
Thursday, March 1, 2007
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