Memories.......

of fatter days.....


Considering this blog is devoted to my journey with my Lapband, I do like to sneak the word Lapband in every so often. And, I do strive to talk about the Lapband itself and issues and topics related to it. Plus, I try to share whatever information I can about the entire process and my life with my Lapband. But, let's face it--no matter what I'm blogging about--my Lapband---or perhaps more appropriately my weight loss-- is involved. From career issues to recipes to shopping for shoes or decorating for Christmas--everything is lived and talked about from the vantage point of a girl with a Lapband who lost 100+ pounds. I realize it each and every day. So much so that I often ask myself--would I have done this/thought about this/been this way/talked about this/cared about this/wanted this 100+ pounds ago? You see--losing this weight changed every, every facet of my life---in ways that were expected--such as a better self image and improved health to ways that were not expected such as making it okay that my life doesn't include pasta and giving me the courage to rethink my career aspirations. It's made dashing up steps easier and wearing cute shoes a non issue. And it's helped me to understand what life is like when food and diets and weight do not take presidence over cooking good food, sharing a meal and enjoying the entire experience. It really has changed my world.
What it hasn't done.....is change my memories.
And, that's a good thing.
Especially now, as we go through family pictures and share stories about my uncle.
Memories are gifts. No matter how crazy or ridiculous they may be--they are ours forever.
Memories are what is left to us after it's all said and done.

And, so I thought I'd share this with you.....

As I may have already told you---my uncle had no children of his own. He had my 2 sisters and I--his blue-eyed nieces who he adored and spoiled beyond reason--partly because he took immense pride in the fact that we all managed to have Irish eyes and partly because he just loved us. And, we in turn, adored him--no matter what. We would be giddy with excitement when we knew he was coming. And, when he did walk in the door--our eyes and our hearts lit up like fireworks! We knew we were in for something wonderful. If not wonderful in the true sense--at least something pretty darn different than our daily suburban life. You see, my uncle was a bit of a playboy in his time--a madly handsome, party boy who could walk into any bar, any funeral home or any place at all and a party would begin. Yes, my Uncle Patsy took life up just another notch. He was a playfully naughty, sometimes downright naughty guy---but always naughty with a degree of sophistication and class. Just the right suit, the perfect shoes, every hair in place, tasteful jewelry, just the right car and always a breathless, adoring and glamorous girl dangling on his arm. He smoked his cigarettes with an air of sophistication, he held a pen with class, he even threw back his Irish whiskey in a way that made it look gallant. He sent gifts to our house in big trucks, delivered by men in suits, he chose jewelry and clothes for my mother that my father would never dream of and he would squire his three little nieces into clubby bars that only served men in suits who smoked cigars and he would proudly show us off to his AOH and Knights of Equity buddies at the St. Patrick's Day Parade. He loved my mother for dressing us in green. But, how he made her crazy with is antics--she would yell at him and lecture him, trying to hold back from smiling or laughing as her heart melted. He left her to deal with girlfriends he ducked out on, hearts he broke and even one time with the mother of a girl he whisked away to Atlantic City for a weekend date. Yet, my mother loved him like mad--her devil-may-care brother-in-law who rammed his car into her parents' front door the first day they met him. And, he worshipped her--his Italian, red-haired, green-eyed, hot-tempered sister-in-law who made his brother happy, cooked for his mother and gave him three little girls to love.
As I type this, I am just imagining their reunion in heaven....."Patsy, what the hell was that all about, what the hell were you thinking and why in the hell did you do that?"

Ah, the memories live on......like this one:

Uncle Patsy is standing at the foot of my hospital bed with his side-kick Sarah, as I'm in labor (as it turned out, false labor) with Vince. "You look just like my mother lying there in that hospital bed. You look exactly like her! EXACTLY! I guess because you are so big. Fat like her. You know she died in this very same hospital. Can I smoke here?"