Now, let me go back and start from the beginning of my story which began about three weeks earlier. I had been experiencing what I would describe as a “sweet spot” in life. I encountered blessing after blessing; almost to the point I could hardly believe. Before I go on, I need to explain that everything didn’t go perfect, but in my mind it was part of the goodness coming at me left and right.

One of my Dad’s treasures I held close to my heart were some of his hankies. He usually carried them in his pocket; and having them, felt like I was closer to him. I decided I wanted to give one each to my son and his bride-to-be on their wedding day, and wanted them to be personalized.

Back in the early 80’s, my Dad purchased three sets of running gear to be used for either grain or hay wagons. One of these was converted into what would become his prized hay wagon. Over the years it was used when putting up straw from winter wheat, but once he sold the dairy cows, would lend it to friends that ultimately didn’t care for it like he would. After years of wear he decided, he would tuck it away for safe keeping.

My son recently married his perfect match and I thought I’d share a few thoughts on being the mother-of-the-groom. People often say the mother-of-the-groom isn’t involved or have much to do in preparation, but I’m thankful I was included from the beginning. My first experience was when son asked me to help him find the perfect ring. I was touched and happy he wanted me by his side.

Within a short amount of time my Mom will be hosting my sister and her family for a long weekend and anticipation of the visit, we needed to get some things done around the farm. We set aside a day to gather together and tackle the work.

Earlier this summer, I was able to enjoy a weekend in Chicago with friends. There always seems to be endless things to experience and this trip was no different. One of the afternoons after enjoying brunch, my friends and I decided to walk back along Michigan Avenue (the magnificent mile), to the place we were staying.

We headed out, on foot, late afternoon to get a jump on the crowds. However, there were already motorcycles every where you looked. There were bikes of every color, new, and vintage looking their best and hoping to impress. As we glanced around, everyone wore black….black pants, boots, shirts, vests, headbands and any other riding apparel a person could think of wearing. My friend and I were very out of place in our “flowy” pants and brightly colored shirts. Anyone looking our way could tell we hadn’t arrived a hog…..LOL.

El loco describes how I’ve been feeling lately, in one word….crazy! My days and nights seem hectic and I feel like I want to lay on my couch for days…..well, at least for a full weekend….HAHA! In my mind there’s a good reason for my scattered actions and thoughts; my son will be getting married soon and there’s a lot to accomplish. The date has been planned for a year, but time seems to speed up faster the closer it gets.

This past weekend happened to be one of those instances where the stars aligned and my calendar and my brother’s both had an open day to get some needed chores done at the farm. Yard work was planned and as luck would have it, the weather was warm, dry and sunny.

My daughter offered a few locations that didn’t have parking restrictions, but after driving around and around, realized those locations are snatched quickly, and wasn’t a lucky recipient. Since I was waiting for a friend to arrive, I thought, no worries, I’ll park and set an alarm.

This past weekend, two of my best girlfriends hosted a wedding shower in honor of my son and his bride-to-be. Hard to believe my only son will be getting married soon, as we celebrated together with friends and family. The event was held at a local establishment that had recently gone through expansion and growth, and we were unsure how the new space would work. The day was filled with laughter, happiness, reconnecting of old friends and meeting of new.

At a closer glance, it was a beautiful yellow finch. My Dad loved birds; especially colorful ones, including yellow finches. Anytime he would spot one, would announce for us to look. The brightly colored yellow finch has been back several times; always making a racket at the vaulted window, seemingly to get our attention. It makes me wonder if my Dad was giving us a sign he was near. I like the thought of that anyhow, and the yellow finch has been named Chuck-da-finchi, after my Dad Charles….ha.

The weather forecast for the weekend wasn’t looking so good. Clouds and rain were headed our way. By the time we arrived at the event it was barely spitting any moisture, hoping to dodge getting wet. As fifty-five happy and excited rooftop goers boarded the private coach, it was announced the first stop on the tour would be an indoor/outdoor rooftop experience. Perfect! Somewhere that would solve any rain issue. It seemed like we were on the bus forever, as over thirty minutes passed before we arrived. All fifty-five wine enthusiasts piled out of the bus, then loaded by small groups using one elevator that took us to an inside, charming bar. Ummm…..unfortunately, the rooftop wasn’t open for the tour. Rats.

Once he arrived, as usual, he had been working during the day and by the time he walked in was starving and ready to help with meal prep. He took a quick shower and was eager to grill, while I was busy cooking and prepping in the kitchen. I love that he jumps in and lends a hand with meal prep; together we make a good team.

It’s a family joke that my daughter is the queen of card games. Sometimes, no….most times, when she’s explaining the crazy rules, you think for certain they’ve been made up. She claims otherwise, and has been taught by other friends. Hannah is rarely at a family gathering without a deck of cards. She actually started a collection.

The sweet corn my Dad grew was the star of the farm, without fail, every year. People would come from near and far to pick up some of his famously sweet and delicious cobs. He would grow enough to share with family and friends; always planting straight from his heart. With his recent passing, it was one of his last wishes for my brother Jeff to continue the tradition.

Almost three weeks ago my daughter moved into an apartment about an hour from home. The transition happened very fast and we had little time to prepare. Within two weeks, she had been offered two jobs, accepted the one that was too far to commute and found an apartment. She had to scramble to make it all happen. Three days before she started her job she had planned to move into her new home.

As the day approached, I tried to put it out of my head, hoping it would be like every other day, but it wasn’t. No calendars or ideas were mentioned and each family had plans of their own, to celebrate the Dads. My Mom and I would spend the day together. After all, it was her first Father’s Day without him as well.