Happy Birthday, Cristopher Chase!

Almost 3 years old.

Chase finds the perfect Christmas tree for his house.
2002 – Chase patiently poses for Grandma.
Visiting Tucson from North Carolina.
2898678631_611a265f7b 8231982426_eb02198516_o Chase
2006
at baby shower for the birth of Quinn
in Greensboro NC
The baby shower came and went. Thanksgiving was over and Christmas was just a memory. The date of January 30, 1997 was set and I thought that it would feel to me just like any other day. After all, I had delivered three babies myself. Just how exciting could this be to an “outsider”? I dressed and readied myself to go to St Joseph’s Hospital with the intention of checking in for a few moments with your Mom and Dad and then I would leave them to experience this wonder – this miracle – you!
I entered the hospital room with a basket of goodies that I made for this special day – lullaby cd’s, onesies, lotions for a very tiny you and some for your Mommy and so many other things. I gave both Cristopher and Sherrie my love and after hugs, I returned to my car in the parking lot. As I guided the car to the road, I found myself heading to your Uncle Jeffry’s school. I walked into the office and signed Jeffry out for the rest of the day. He ran to meet me in the school office and told me he was finishing an extra credit problem in Algebra and would return as soon as he turned his paper in to the teacher. I waited somewhat impatiently, tapping my fingers on the office counter and touting my story to anyone who would listen that I was going to meet my first Grandson!
Jeffry and I rushed to the hospital. While he was excited, I found myself in somewhat of a panic mode that I would not get to the hospital in time to hear the announcement of your birth. Fears were relieved as Jeffry and I walked in the room and had time to visit with your Mom and Dad before Sherrie was wheeled away by Cristopher and the attending nurses.
Within fifteen minutes, out walked my first son cuddling my first grandson in his arms. With just a simple “here he is, Mom”, He walked closer so I could get a better look and then states matter of fact that he had to get you back to the nurses so they could clean you up and check your vitals. Tears flooded my eyes so I could barely see your little face and any words I had planned on saying just got lost in my throat. Just then, Jeffry returned to the waiting area with your Grandpa in tow. I told myself that now I could go home and get back to my day, Instead, I found myself glued to the bench in front of the nursery windows; staring at you – Grandma’s tiny little blessing.
In between January 30 1997 and January 30 2013, all of our lives have taken many different turns. I have not seen you or heard your voice in four years. And now you are a young man of sixteen and I cannot even wrap my mind around that. You are in High School and have a part-time job and these facts simply astound me.
Happy Birthday, Cristopher Chase. I think of you each and every day. One day we will be together again and we will have a lot of catching up to do! Until that time, be well, be healthy and be happy. I love you, Buddy.
Your Grandma.

Another week passes me by …

The kitchen island top re-do is almost done.  Not perfect – but what an improvement!  Granite tile and many times of removing some tiles and re-installing some of the trim – we have some touch ups, one corner, and caulking between the wood trim and the tiles – but it is still really nice.

So looking forward to hosting an Easter dinner for friends and family!

Max spent Thursday and Friday with us again this week.  Today, he helped Nana shop for Easter dinner – even brought his own cart!

Celebrated our 41st anniversary on the 5th with a letter to the hubs!
41 years ago at 7 pm, two teenagers stood in the Church of God in Grand Junction.  Pastor Todd officiated a short ceremony in front of a few friends scattered in the pews.  I do not even remember what he was saying – I guess I was too concerned with the child inside of me and what was next in our lives together.
Since then, we have lost babies and family and friends.  We have lost books and love letters and a piano and photos and perspective and even sometimes our way and so much more.  Since then we have built careers and houses and backyard decks and friendships and gardens.  We have gained knowledge and daughters and sons and a deeper relationship and love of others and even a little respect.  We have seen Victoria BC and Puerto Vallarta Mexico and Nassau Bahamas and lots of stage plays and young sons in school productions and our youngest sporting the gold ropes at high school graduation and our oldest granddaughter lip syncing to “oops I’ve done it again”.  We laughed at Cristopher imitating the walk of Charlie Callas and at Ricky jumping up on the table at Dairy Queen to sing like Rosie singing like Elvis and at Jeffry performing Cuban Pete boom chicky boom, boom chicky boom, boom chicky boom.  We were blessed to hear Tristan attempting a kindergarten singing career and seeing Chase just a few moments old and watching preemies Mateo and Marluce blossom into healthy and happy kids, and listening over the phone to hear the first cries of Quinn and getting text messages from Megan updating us on the birth of Maxwell and hearing his little cries.  We have loved each other and our children and grandchildren and each other even more and dear friends and going on dates and seeing new places and each other even more.  We have felt the pain of loss and the fear of the future and the sadness that comes with family crisis and the realization that some things will just never be.  But we have felt the pride in our family and the joy of new babies and the unimaginable appreciation of a prospective kidney donor and the peace that comes with security in love and the dreams of what lie ahead.  All of this has been ours.  Together.  I cannot imagine it any other way.
Hard to believe those two teenagers with a baby on the way, pledging their love in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others until death us do part, beat the odds.  I dream of more travel and future babies to cuddle and being with family and watching sunsets and all of this,  Together.
  Happy Anniversary honey.  I love you oodles.

the last time

The day was November 26th 1988 – the Saturday after Thanksgiving. Mom, Dad and Grandma Tabor had the motorhome packed with their travel belongings after a few days of visiting and enjoying Thanksgiving dinner with them and my special “little sister” guest, Leisa. We had managed to fit in a huge holiday feast; the requisite shopping on Friday after, and of course, several rounds of Bingo at Papago Bingo. I had stuffed the traveling refrig with container after container of Thanksgiving leftovers. This was a special one as I had never known my mother to leave her home for that particular holiday. This was the first and only one in my life. One year she was sequestered on a murder trial as a jurist, and the judge had ordered the jury dismissed just for that day and they had to return to sequestration Thanksgiving night. Mom had made a detailed list of everything I needed to buy a week prior to the holiday with detailed instructions on how to prepare what and how and when – like I didn’t already know after being her right hand gal since the age of 10. Even on a several week jury trial, she still insisted that the family dinner would be held on North 18th Street, and no amount of reasoning was going to change her mind. And so it was. So, I was quite surprised when she called and said they were coming for Thanksgiving. Mom had suffered a bad bout of the flu in several weeks prior and I thought maybe she was just worn out. So, I didn’t question it. I was excited to host Thanksgiving at my house in Tucson. Of course she insisted that everything would be just as though we were in Grand Junction. She would do all of the cooking and baking. Gram was in charge of peeling 10 pounds of potatoes and I was charged with setting and decorating the table. I didn’t give a second thought to Mom’s comments here and there. “I do not ever want to die in Tucson.” When I said what an odd thing to say, she explained that we had that doctor here who transplanted hearts. And what if he took hers out and replaced it with someone who was mean? Would those unprincipled traits be transferred to her? I kind of just shrugged it off with a smile. We were sitting in the living room relaxing one afternoon, watching an old rerun of Designing Women where the ladies had designed a New Orleans style send off for a young friend who had died of Aids. Mom stated that she wanted her funeral to be like that with upbeat music and lots of flowers. Maybe I should have paid more attention.

After a nice breakfast at Coco’s, the three musketeers were on their way home. I didn’t envy them. The drive from Tucson to Grand unction is almost unbearable for me; hours of dry dusty desert with no cell or radio reception. It is, nicely put, miserable. They didn’t seem to mind. As long as Mom was in her motorhome, she was good. Cristopher was out with friends. Ricky was at a U of A game enjoying his time with friends in the kids Knothole Section. Bob and I were set to enjoy a movie night out with 4 year old Jeffry in tow. As the movie time slowly approached, Bob reminded me that we needed to get on our way. But, I felt uneasy and did not want to leave the house that night. When I relayed that to my husband, he just nodded okay and went about his evening. He was used to me changing my mind so nothing unusual about that.

If memory serves, it was around 7 in the early evening when the phone begin to ring. It was still in the time where the phone hung on the wall. Bob held the phone out saying it was my dad and if they had car problems, I was to find out where they were and he would be on his way. Before I put the phone to my ear, I quietly said to Bob “honey, my Mom is dead,” He just looked at me, admonishing me with his stare about the inappropriateness of making such a comment. As I lifted the phone to my hear, I could hear my Dad’s voice saying “Mom’s gone”.

I felt the tears as Daddy explained the chain of events leading up to this call. And then the blur of the night began. Laundry had to be done for five people making the 780 mile trek to western Colorado; arrangements had to be made for Jeffry to stay with my Tucson friend, Peggy for a week. Calls had to be made to my siblings. And in a flurry of tears and questions and travel arrangements, we finally fell into bed after midnight. And then came the long and drawn out sobs as Bob held me tightly until finally exhaustion and sleep took over. And this day was over.

My Mom was gone.

Family History Links to Page for GDOVIN