The tornado that is family touches down.
Dustbusters, bubbles and mouse trap.
All the swirling love reminds me
of the circle of life.
So fleeting.
I wish I would have known
way back when.
But for now
monkey bread, dirty diapers
and hugs and kisses
are my pot o’ gold
at the end of
my rainbow.

I am the gardener in our family. I love the process of transplanting, weeding, giving life to seedlings, watering, and pruning long after my masterpieces have faded.

Rejuvenating my dormant plants and encouraging new growth and flowering, is more creative and peaceful than anything I know.

As a gardener, I know that the best starting point for any living thing is to remove dead, diseased, or damaged stems as soon as I see them. Because any gardener knows that dead stems attract insects and invite diseases to develop.

And I have gardened enough over the years to know that relocating a plant hidden and strangled by weeds allows it to bloom and shine and flourish once again. But once that plant has been moved to a new location, it needs constant care, and lots of water, but ever so carefully, so as not to drown it.

Repair and renew.

As I tend and toil in my garden, my husband basks in the sun. When it comes to our yard, I am the queen of green.

But in our relationship, my husband is the gardener.

He is the caretaker, the stable one who waters and nourishes. And I am the thankful recipient of his protection, soaking up his love and attention.

While I shine, he tends. When I’m sad or weary, he encourages. When I’m down, he pulls me up.

I am his garden favorite so to speak.

Our unlikely paths crossed randomly, during a rainy period, before the leaves covered everything and the ground froze solid enough to break our spades.

I was the fiercely independent and untrusting woman. He was the problem solver, with a gentle and steady demeanor.

I was the perennial in desperate need of a transplant. He was the constant and consummate gardener.

His protective method of pruning and cultivating was vital to ensuring my productivity, my longevity, and my strength. And his special care and attention over the years reinforced my optimal growth.

He’s charming and witty, but in a quiet, subtle way. He wears with pride the same t-shirts and socks he’s had for 20 or more years. I used to be embarrassed by the holes in his socks and the greyish aura of his used-to-be-white shirts, but I understand now.

It took me years to realize that he can’t throw them away because he’s loyal. The most loyal man I have ever met.

And he is selfless. Caring nothing for himself.

He’s disciplined in a way I could never be. A pillar of strength and support and as solid as a mighty oak tree.

He refuses to acknowledge his birthday and makes me promise to say and do nothing for him on the day that should be a celebration of his life.

And he doesn’t want any accolades on Father’s Day, so as not to put any pressure on anyone to recognize or do anything special for him at all.

That kind of stuff breaks my heart because he’s a terrific father, husband, and grandfather, and deserves to be honored and recognized for all the wonderful things he is and does for his family.

And he repeatedly reminds me that he is not my father, so I should stop with all the Father’s Day hoopla.

No, he isn’t my father. But I can’t help thinking how blessed my life would have been if I had a father who was a fraction of the man my husband is.

I thought I needed a broken man who could relate to my broken parts.

But in the end, I found a most amazing and truly whole man who painstakingly repaired and renewed me.

I always thought I was the constant gardener, the caretaker, and the provider who could handle anything.

But I was wrong.

I was wrong about a lot of things.

But I was right about him.

Happy Father’s Day my love.

I have always been overly obsessed with listening to my favorite melancholy tunes over and over again, never tiring of the songs, the words, or my morose reaction.

I know what you’re thinking. Big time downer.

I once asked my music theory college professor why certain songs hit me so hard, and he thought it involved some level of hypothetical observation—a musical conversation, and in all probability caused by a chemical reaction in my brain.

Chemical or not, I have always loved the Elton John song, Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word.

Each and every time I listened to the lyrics, they just about broke my heart. And each and every time I cried to the words, I always imagined that the questions asked in the song must have been formulated with an incredibly precious someone in mind.

What have I got to do to make you love me?
What have I got to do to make you care?
What do I do when lightning strikes me?
And I wake to find that you’re not there?
What have I got to do to make you want me?
What have I got to do to be heard?
What do I say when it’s all over?
Sorry seems to be the hardest word.
It’s sad, so sad.
It’s a sad, sad situation.
And it’s getting more and more absurd.
It’s sad, so sad
Why can’t we talk it over?
Oh it seems to me
That sorry seems to be the hardest word.

Elton John’s heartbreaking lyrics could have been written for anyone—a friend, a lover, a parent, a child.

In my mind, the years of crying and analyzing those lyrics over and over again reinforced for me the realization that I can love someone, but it doesn’t mean that person has to love me back. And I might want to talk it over, but that only works if there is someone on the other side who cares enough to listen.

Yesterday when I turned on my car radio, Elton’s sorrowful words and song I had long ago emotionally analyzed and conquered, served as an instant and profound epiphany.

Sorry may seem to be the hardest word, but in actuality, goodbye is even harder.

Because sometimes sorry just isn’t enough.

You can beg someone for their forgiveness, but they can refuse to forgive. Or forget. Sorry in their mind doesn’t cut it.

So then what?

Do you hang in there? Try to make them love you? Try to make them listen? Try to talk it over?

Bend over backward and kiss up to them even though you feel unfairly judged?

Keep silent when you have words rattling around in your head ready to be spilled and spelled out?

Do you jump through hoops to find that loving place you once shared when deep down inside, you know it’s lost forever?

And are there any last words left to say to save forever?

No, because sometimes there is only one word left to say—and that’s goodbye.

And that is indeed a sad, sad situation.

I lost touch with my first best friend when I moved cities at age fourteen. The sudden loss of my then BFF broke my heart and I still think back on the devotion and love we shared and then lost, and sometimes wonder if our friendship would have lasted the test of time.

Since then, many besties have come and gone, for one reason or another. The old adage that we can’t choose our family but we can choose our friends is only true so long as we make the right choice.

And even though I’ve tried to choose my friends carefully, I have over the years developed less and less tolerance for those whom I once thought I picked well.

Making and keeping a BFF takes perseverance and there has to be mutual affection and respect for one another. An unwritten code of empathy, kindness, harmony, solidarity, support, and compassion combined with friendship etiquette is essential to a long-term alliance.

Anyone who has a BFF gets what I’m saying here.

Friendship etiquette is something that ensures the growth and tranquility essential for a healthy and reciprocally beneficial relationship. Friendship etiquette also means that there exists between two compadres an understanding, loyalty, and acceptance when there is not a shared like or interest in something or someone. You silently agree to stand behind and up for your BFF because that’s what a good friend does. You have their back whether you agree with them or not—in good times and especially in bad.

Additionally, friends don’t become your frenemy because your life might happen to be better than theirs at some moment in time. Friends take pride in the progress and success of their BFFs.

An actual friend will revel in your successes and knows when you’re in trouble. And they do what it takes to combat and control their possible jealousies and inner demons because we all have our insecurities.

True friends understand that even though they are BFF’s their lives are divergent and separate from each other. And they recognize that only through give-and-take respect can they secure an unforgettable and life-long attachment.

If you’ve ever had the honor of having a true BFF, it’s fairly easy to name the qualities you expect in a close friendship. And you go out of your way to be a legitimate and honest friend.

But is your BFF really for forever? The following questions should give you the answers you’re looking for.

Are they genuinely happy when something good happens to you?

Do they listen to your stories without changing the subject to something about them?

Do they give you a break when you’re clearly off your game, knowing that everyone has a bad day?

Do they cancel their plans to be with you in your hour of need?

Do they check in on you when the weather’s bad or just because?

Do they feel your sadness when something bad happens to you?

Do they accept your friends?

Do they say the negative things they feel about you to your face, and say only positive things about you behind your back?

If you’ve been a faithful friend or have a loyal sidekick, the answer to all of these questions should be yes. If not, maybe your BFF is not who you thought they were.

And jealousy is the quickest way to destroy a friendship. Let’s be honest, there will always be a friend out there with a better life than yours—a more successful job, a more luxurious home, in better shape, with a closer significant other. And maybe they’re more beautiful, handsome, or spontaneous.

But you say you love them, right? You want them to be happy, healthy, and prosperous, correct?

The wannabe BFFs say they love you, but the authentic BFF lives it. Because your friendship is worth safekeeping, and they know it’s the real deal and that a BFF once found, is irreplaceable.

Keep in mind that your BFF will always include others in their lives, which doesn’t mean that they stop being your best friend. A BFF needs to be confident enough to give their friendship shared freedom.

You’re friends for a reason. You chose each other because the two of you have something you don’t find often enough, if at all. You mutually share things like consideration, trust, empathy, support, and you love spending time with them. A BFF is a gift that can’t be measured like material goods.

Being a BFF means being truly ecstatic about your friends’ success and happiness even if you’re not up to the same speed. In every BFF, there is an element of responsibility to care about what your friend needs and take the lead sometimes. Your BFF is always on your mind, and you don’t play games.

It takes two to make a BF—there is no such thing as a one-sided friendship. A bona fide BFF is one of the best things that can happen to us. They listen to us, do things with us, and bring out the best in us. They make us better people, share new experiences, make us laugh, and are always there with broad shoulders for us to cry on in times of trouble. A BFF is considerate and your problems are their problems.

If your BFF is not like this, then, take a closer look at your friendship. Do they lack empathy and/or consideration of your feelings? Have they said and done things that have hurt you or caused offense? And when you try to explain to them that you are terribly hurt by what they’ve said or done, do they still play the victim?

If you’re always overlooking the bad behavior or demands of your supposed BFF, and/or walking on eggshells when you’re around them, it’s probably time to say goodbye.

As hard as that might be, take the energy and caring you’ve been wasting on your frenemy and find yourself the BFF you deserve.