The last holdout

Cherry Creek is an area in Denver. Upscale. For those people in the world who like to shop, and like "high end brands", it's the place to be. Shop. Eat Dine. Be Seen. Visit.

There are many words for this pocket of town. I've also mentioned many times, one of my favorite places , but not a favorite place for the shopping. A favorite place for a burger dive joint.

I swear, you can smell the smoke in the furniture, from when smoking cigarette's was allowed inside.

The stale beer. You can smell that too.

When visitors come to town - I make sure they see many scenic places in Denver and the surrounding area. The Cherry Cricket is always on the list.

We've all wondered how long it could last. A run down bar in the middle of an area with 5 million dollar condos. The "Cricket" swore they weren't going any where. The rest of us always knew it was a matter of time.

Wednesday night. There was a kitchen fire. The Cricket is closed until further notice.

Which means:

The Cricket we all know and love - isn't opening back up.

Yes, it will probably re-open. It's sitting on a piece of land worth millions. It will be clean. The burgers probably won't be as good and there might actually be some light in the place.

But the stories I have from this place......

I met Peter Pan there.
The man who became Nolan's Godfather
A great girlfriend whom I visited New York City with for the first time
A few more girlfriends, a few more guy friends.
A few celebrities
I've closed the place down
I've been there early when the Broncos had an early game, and they let us open the place up.
Friends of my sons have worked there
A place that still has parking for free - and decent parking (as parking is not one of my better attributes).
And if you read the article, I referred to at the begining. A place that let's you change other people's lives.

A place that changed my life. As all experiences change your life. All of our lives.

The Cricket is closed until further notice. Thanks for holding out.

Not sure where I'm going to watch the Broncos game next week. But hey Cricket, thanks for hanging in there.

Finally

Usually, when I write a story about someone I love, whom has passed, the words come quickly. The words come flowing out of me. Screaming, like they need to tell the world about the person I loved and lost.

This time, I’ve had no words. I’ve had no words about a lost young life. A life we lost to demons bigger than us all.

I’ve searched. And searched for words. Searched for emotions other than sadness and anger.

It's not that I didn't want to tell you about my friend. I didn't know how.

I truly now understand how depression affects people. The understanding of not wanting to get out of bed. 

Or truly put one foot in front of the other.

Not that I haven’t felt moments of despair and blues. I’ve had them. (previous to this). We all have them. But moments of not knowing how I’m going to make it until the end of the day.

I now get you.

And dammit Hil. I’m mad.

I’m angry. And, I’m very, very sad.

One of my Mother’s Day “kids” committed suicide the last week in August. NO ONE saw this one coming. Yes, I thought I knew depression. Yes, I understand people with internal battles we will never understand.

BUT, USUALLY, we know. Or think we have an idea.

We like to think we have an idea this person was battling things that were hard.

So, instead of being angry. Or mad. Or sad.

Hil, this is what I have to say about you:

I will always miss you.       

              

AND

You still owe me!

You grandparents made sure you had seen all 50 states. In your short life (and yes, I know, you didn’t believe 18 was short)

Every Mother’s Day since you were 10 years (or maybe 8) we had all run a 5k together and had a cook-out at my house. You were a junior in high school and you and your grandfather had been on a cruise to Alaska together. The only state you had left was Hawaii.

We had all run our Mothers’ Day run and we are sitting in the stands discussing this situation. I turned to your grandfather and said – what is the state you are missing? Your grandfather replied. Actually, wait, you replied “Hawaii” that’s the only state left.

I then turned to your grandfather and said, “That sounds like a perfect graduation gift to me. “

You went with your mom, brothers and grandparents to Hawaii the summer you died. (And selfishly, and because of course, this is about me, I drove you to the airport)

It was also your grandfathers fiftieth state to visit.

You were his best friend. Not trying to make you feel guilty. Trying to explain what the rest of us were feeling.

By far, your funeral and picking your parents and your ashes up at the airport was the HARDEST thing I’ve EVER been through in my life.

I’m sorry you felt you weren’t loved enough to get you through that day. Or today. Or tomorrow. Or the next day.

Because, let me tell you Richard Hilstad Lee Abbott. YOU were loved. Are loved.

Always will be.

Rest in Peace my sweet boy.

A Song for Another Time

There is song out

side bar here - if you haven't figured out when I find song that resonates with me you've been missing a lot about me.

called: A Song for Another Time  This song has EVERYTHING to do with me - yet, nothing all at the same time.

If you don't like country, it's okay. Listen to the lyrics. The melody is there. The theme is there and so is the soul.

Let's have our fun and not worry about tomorrow. Let's sing the songs that belong to us.

Breathe

Live

Hold your breathe

At this moment, we are singing about the beach. The wonderful breath taking moments in our lives.

AND,

living them.

The sadness?

Well, that's a song for another time......

Find the Outliers

My perceived notion of the "cool" kids - were girls/boys everyone like, whom got invited to everything with those same people and did all these things together.

Truly, that is a perspective. No one really lives that - you think other people are living that way. THOSE people, are complaining about their lives too. They need breaks. They need moments for themselves - we all do. Yes, some of us need more "socialization" than others, but it's easy to look at other peoples lives and wish we had that too.

The feeling we are "missing out" on something.

Only, the truth, we don't really miss out on things. It's a hard thing to grasp - we truly are meant for other things.

You don't get married.
You don't have kids
You don't get married and you have a kid
You don't get married and you adopt a kid
You travel
You stay home

Or you get married. Have kids. You live happily ever after. Right???? I don't know ONE person who would tell me the last statement was a simple as it looks. The statements above, people some how are drawn to those stories.

We are sold a bill of goods. Hollywood has told us, there is a certain way through life.

The funny thing is, we have chosen to believe it.

The great thing is: there is an alternative ending and you learn the truth.

I don't know much, but what I do know is:  Find the OUTLIERS.

Find the people whom might understand Hollywood was wrong.

Yes, it looks good on paper. The idea sounds perfect. But the people in your tribe?

Have them fit your life. And you theirs.

If you have a need to be the "queen" of your social circle, go be it.

But the real people - if you a real person - are standing at the edge of the playground. In a funny skirt and cowboy boots. Wondering how she ended up on an art committee.

Or they are on the backside of a mountain trying to scale the wall.

Or found a mouse in her house and had to live at her mother's for a week - yes, she was in her 50's.

As I recently told my oldest son:

Go find the outliers and together you can form one.

The Girl on the Train

There was a book I read, a few years ago named: The Girl On The Train

It's a messed up booked. I remember thinking half way throuh the book that I needed to put it down - it was messing with my head. This year, it came out as a movie. It has a good story line. It messes you up a bit, but you want to keep reading.

In Denver, we now have a train that runs from the aiport to downtown. The "A" line. The "B" line will open this fall - it will drop people off from the airport less than one mile from my house.

We live in a real city now.

You can take the train from the airport (BTW, the airport is NO WHERE near anything - STILL 20 years later).

BUT, the train?

I think I have a romantic interestt in the train the way I used to have a romantic interest in airports.

For NINE dollars (although when I took the train in Atlanta, it was only $3.40 - and here I thought NINE dollars was a good deal) - you can take a train right into Downtown Denver.

The only person I've picked up from the train station was I guy I knew from high school. He took the train from the airport to downtown.

And it was single-handeddly the most romantic thing anyguy anyone has ever done for me.

You see - the train has captured romanticism the airport has lost.

I could meet him at the tracks. There were feelings like those when we used to meet the people at the gate of the airport.

There were signs from kids. There were smiles. Business travelers going their way home.

There was a girl, waiting on a a guy. On a train.....

Joy in Sadness

Grief is an interesting thing.

When life is lived correctly, we all grow old and bow out gracefully. When it doesn't go the way we are told it is "supposed to go", we have learn a new way to cope. A new adjustment in life.

Much like when life goes better than planned, we have to adjust there too.

I never knew grief was so exhausting. Although, I have grieved before. We were all "sucker punched", then kicked while we were down. This all continues to take it's toll.

What has been important in keeping me, and everyone I know going, are the bright moments during the sadness.

The kids are getting on with their lives. They should. Kids are resilient.

The moms and dads are having a little bit of a harder time.

We are getting back to our "new normal".

I want to get back to writing about the Olympics - as I have some wonderful, incredible, stories to share. Only, it's hard to hang on to that happiness. The stories will come. Wonderful, beautiful stories.

During all the sadness, there were good moments. Light is starting to emerge.

Yesterday while walking the dog, Cole's mom was on her front porch. The first time I've seen her there in months.

When she saw me, she had the biggest smile on her face and invited me to sit on the porch. We talked. A few tears, but not many. She was going for a bike ride later in the day with another mom friend.

I texted her at the end of the day, letting her know, "Your smile made my day. I hoped she enjoyed her bike ride."

She replied, "Thanks for stopping by. I had a great ride."

A little joy of a smile in all this sadness.

The Perfect Storm

This October, at least for me, is a month of NO decisions

I kept planning things to do. Places to go. People to see.

Last week I caught a cold - I only get sick about once a year or so. So, when I do catch a cold, I feel it's the universe telling me to slow down, sit down, recharge. Of course, I fight it. I keep going until, I can't.

The summer was a roller coaster. Still not over - in fact, will never be over the emotions of the last few months. There is no more "normal". Not even "my normal". We are all getting back to our "New Norrmal."

The new way life looks for all of us here in our little bubble.

Don't get me wrong, during all this sadness, there have been some great moments of happiness.

• We went to the Olympics
• Even in the midst of all the sadness, there were some beautiful moments remembering the boys we lost
• An old relationship renewed
• A new position with a great company

You look onto the horizon. The dust is starting to settle. The sun beginning to appear.

Then you see the shadow. The shadow who always comes back. Suddenly Peter Pan is on your windowsill, having moved back from Neverland....