The Peter Pan Story

 

I was about 5 or 6 years old when my paternal grandfather passed away… he wasn't that old, maybe 58 or 59. I really didn't understand at that time that I would NEVER see Pop again. At his wake (my Dad was Jewish through his mother, not his dad), I had no idea what was going on – and I snuck into the room at my aunt's house where the coffin was, climbed up on a chair, and tried to wake my grandfather. I was shaking him in the open coffin when it was discovered where I was. My aunt scolded me and stopped suddenly; I saw tears in her eyes. My parents took turns holding me and explained that Pop wasn't going to wake up.

 

I wasn't allowed to go to the funeral, I think a neighbor watched my sister and me. My sister (5 years older) gently tried to explain about death and its finality, I think I began to catch on. But when my parents came home, I saw Daddy crying – I didn't think that fathers ever cried. That's when the explanations my sister tried to tell me really hit me… and I was terrified.

 

Daddy wiped his tears, held me, and asked why I was so scared. I told him in my own juvenile way that I realized that growing up meant that our parents would die. I knew that my Mom's father had died long before I was born (I'm named for him) and that reinforced my terror. I cried long and hard on my Dad's shoulder while he tried to comfort me. I kept on yelling that I didn't want to ever grow up.

 

Daddy hugged me, his arms were always so strong and safe, and he asked me if my name was Peter Pan. I stopped crying and looked at him, I had no idea who Peter Pan was. He told me that Peter Pan was the boy who never wanted to grow up. I told Daddy that I agreed. He chuckled.

 

We sat in his chair, he put me on his lap, and he told me, it's true, as we get older, we often lose those who are older than us. Daddy said that's the way it's supposed to be, and then he told me that even though losing people sometimes hurt, he would never change a thing because growing up also meant that you would meet new people and have families of your own. Daddy said that if he and Mommy hadn't grown up they never would have met, and they never would have had "the most beautiful daughters" in the world. And he told me that even though he and Mommy would one day leave this earth, he knew that we would both find others to love and maybe even have our own beautiful children.

 

Daddy died a little more than 17-years after he lost his own dad. My sister had already married and had a son, a grandson who was the pride and joy of both of my parents. I had also gotten married to a man I loved so much. Mommy and Daddy were thrilled with both of their daughters and the "sons" we had brought them. During the days after he passed, I heard Daddy's voice, ACTUALLY HEARD IT, telling me that he was glad I had decided not to be Peter Pan and he was excited about the life I would live.

 

Although my husband and I lost all 4 of our parents just a few years after our marriage, I still feel blessed. Today, more than 46 years after marrying the love of my life, we have two beautiful grown children, a daughter and son, and two wonderful in-law children. We've had adventures and many joys. My sister and her husband had a second son, two daughters-in-law, and 4 grandchildren… and their first GREAT grandchild was born shortly before my sister died.

 

We grew up, and just as Daddy told me, I wouldn't change a thing. I am so glad I wasn't Peter Pan.

 

Reason for Thanks

As a child I wanted to be an actress or a police officer… at some point I think I wanted to be a wild cowgirl riding horses for a living. What I remember wanting the most was to be a child forever in the loving and protective arms of my parents and always tagging along with my big sister.

I was just six-years-old when my paternal grandfather died and I saw my father cry. I crawled onto his lap and cried on his shoulder telling him I never wanted to grow up if it meant losing people you loved. (Daddy called it The Peter Pan Complex) He hugged me so tight and told me that he had no regrets about growing up because it meant that he met my mom, married her, and they had my sister and me. He said that growing up was a good thing even though sometimes you might have reason to cry because I would have so many more wonderful things come my way. He told me to enjoy everything that life brought to me and to treasure every memory that came before.

Truthfully I had a fantastic childhood. We never had a lot of money, but I always felt that I had everything I could want. I remember having a terrific dollhouse and furniture — the dollhouse was a big cardboard box, the furniture was plastic throwaways from the manufacturing company where my dad worked, the window curtains were remnants of cloth left over from the school clothes my mom handmade for us, and while the dolls that “lived” there didn’t really fit, it didn’t matter, I loved it. My sister was my best friend and she let me tag along with her friends and I always had fun because everyone treated me so nicely, I was everyone's "little sister". Our parents always made time for us whether it was watching TV (in costume!) with my dad or baking cookies with my mom, and so many more things.

Both of my parents passed away shortly after I was married, so did my husband’s folks, and I cried. But I remembered my dad’s words to me and I looked forward to what the future would bring. We struggled to have children, a couple of miscarriages and then our daughter, and another miscarriage and then our son was born. As is our custom to name after the deceased, our daughter is named for my mom, and our son for my dad and my mother-in-law (a niece is named for my father-in-law). Watching our children grow to be adults has been a joy and seeing them happy with their own spouses is so fulfilling. Daddy was so right, I have so many memories to treasure and so many wonderful things that came into my life.

My mom used to make a huge Thanksgiving feast for the family, including aunts and uncles and cousins, each year and I swear I can still remember the savory smells from her tiny apartment kitchen (I marvel at how much food she was always able to cook for so many!). Life is different, the family schedules are tighter and distances are greater (and two of my four children work on Thanksgiving), so we don’t always have the same gatherings, but the sentiment is still there. This year my husband and I (we’ll be married 44-years next month) went to a grand Thanksgiving feast at our community association — our first since we moved here last December — and we enjoyed ourselves immensely.

Thanksgiving is a time of appreciation and gratitude, and I have so very much to be thankful for. I am thankful for the love of my life, the man who is a hero in every way (and yes, the man who influences my concept of every romantic hero I write about), I am so grateful for our children and their mates, and my pussycats and grand-fur-babies. I am so happy to still have my sister (who is still one of my best friends), her husband (who is more like a brother to me), and their sons and families. I am also blessed with great sister-in-laws and brother-in-laws, and nephews and nieces and their families. I'm grateful for my readers and their support.

And most of all what I am thankful are my dad’s wise words to me, to look forward to life and all the joys it can bring my way.

My wishes for all of you — have a truly wonderful and meaningful Thanksgiving.

Wishing you a Happy Thanksgiving!

Have a good life ~ #MondayBlogs

Pain and grief are personal.

No two people will feel the same pain. For nearly 30-years as a NYS EMT I always asked my patients, as we were all trained to do, "on a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being the worst pain you ever felt, how bad is your pain?"

The real truth is that one person's "6" may be another person's "10" while someone's "8" barely gets a "2" elsewhere. It doesn't matter, it's all PAIN. As 1st responders we needed to know how the patient was managing the pain, was it getting worse or was it (hopefully) getting better?

It's the same with emotional pain, how we deal with it is individual. Two widows after losing their mates of many years will react differently and neither way is wrong or right. The same goes for other personal tragedies and losses, we all have to find our own ways to cope.

For some people the return to "normal" life takes longer than others, and for some the return never seems to happen. Is it wrong for a young mother to still cry years after a miscarriage, even when she has other children? Or for a man in his 50's to be angry after being hustled out of a long time job he's held for years? 

Human reactions are just that... human - and they are personal.

Somewhere down the line though we do need to regain some living potential again no matter how deep the wounds are. We need to allow ourselves the chance to heal even if it means we never lose our scars. Yes, there are people around us that need us to LIVE again, but we owe it to ourselves not to waste away.

A good friend of mine likes to say "Just put one foot in front of the other..." Healing is a process and no one expects you to ignore the wound or the scars it leaves. But if you let bitterness consume you or never stop crying, think of how much you will continue to lose.

It is so much harder than just these words, but somehow you have to find a way of focusing on what you still have whether they are memories or other loved ones. Whatever is in your past has made you who you are today and who you are is important, don't throw it away.

When I feel down and mourn loved ones no longer here (physically) I remind myself of the 5 of Cups Tarot Card and realize that I need to focus on the positives in my life. 

When my paternal grandfather died and I saw my dad crying I swore to him that I never wanted to grow up because growing up meant people got old and died. After laughing and calling me Peter Pan, he told me that yes, people do die but he was very glad to have grown up, met my mom and had my sister and me. He made me see that life is always giving us new things and we should never ignore the new joys. Years later I miss my parents very much, but I take such joy in my own husband and children. Daddy was right, I would never want to miss out on the life I have now.

I've been told that I have a Pollyanna outlook on life and that I am always looking for the bright side. In reality, I just want to live.

"I am convinced that life is 10% what happens to me
and 90% of how I react to it."
~ Charles R. Swindoll 

The Five of Cups is a Tarot card that signifies difficulty, loss, and the challenges of dealing with that loss. The figure in the card wears a black cloak in which he hides his face in apparent despair. At his feet are five cups, three of which have fallen and spilled onto the ground and the other two behind his back remain standing. He does not seem to notice these upstanding cups because he is so focused on the fallen cups instead. Ahead of him a powerful river flows between himself and a castle or home in the distance. To his right is a bridge that can lead him to the security of the house across the river. Despite the fact that this card has a strong indication of loss and tribulation, there is a positive aspect that must be considered. Is your cup half full or half empty?

#MondayBlogs ~ Peter Pan and the Circle of Life

With Mother’s Day just behind us (although moms will always be MOM), I find myself reflecting on my childhood and thinking about my mom and dad, both long gone, my Grandma, my aunts and uncles (most also gone) and even a few cousins, all younger than me. So many losses and I miss them all, but so many wonderful memories for me to hold on to.

When I was just five years old my paternal grandfather passed away. I remember being horrified at my dad’s tears and pain and I told my father that I never wanted to grow up. He asked me why and I told him, in my child’s frame of mind, that growing up meant that you lose people you love. I remember how he chuckled and hugged me; he told me that it could happen that way and that some order of loss was natural such as a child burying a parent.

He admitted that he was sad, but that growing up for him had meant finding his love, my mom, and having my sister and me. Daddy told me how happy he was with his life even though he had tears along the way. Although I was still frightened, my dad’s words helped me cope with the loss of my grandfather. Eighteen years later I sat at my father’s funeral and heard his words in my mind; once again he helped me cope. That year started a whirlwind of loss, eighteen days later my father-in-law passed away — in less than five years we buried both fathers and both mothers. Despite my father’s wise words, I wanted to go back to playing Peter Pan who never wanted to grow up.

Today, while I admit to thoughts about people I’ve loved and lost, I enjoyed a wonderful Mother’s Day. Because my loving husband is “under the weather” with a bad head cold we decided to have a family brunch right here. Our two children and their respective spouses (or as I prefer to say, my FOUR kids), my husband and I sat at the dining room table and enjoyed a simple but indulgent feast. While filling our plates and stuffing our mouths, there was laughter and joy. There were flowers and cards and smiles and warmth. My heart was so full with all of the riches of my life. The pangs of loss never go away, it never really gets better, but my dad was right. I grew up and have had so many wonderful things come in to my life.

My husband and I are married forty years this coming December; our daughter and her husband just celebrated their eighth anniversary; and our son and his bride just tied the knot last December after a lengthy courtship. I wish our parents were here to see their grandchildren and the wonderful people that they are, but I am sure they are looking in from heaven. My daughter is named for my mother and my son for my dad and mother-in-law and so often they remind me how appropriate the namesakes are. In the meanwhile I am celebrating my life and the memories we are making together, memories that will live on for generation, memories that will one day be the .stories told by my children and G-d willing my grandchildren… and maybe even beyond.

Life is good.

Many of my stories center around family dynamics, good and bad. Sometimes that's a challenge for me since many of my memories are on the positive side, but I do love writing about a "good" villain, lol.

Summertime reading is just around the corner, please check out my books, I am sure you can even find a few you can relate to... 

 http://chellecordero.com/