Jennie Louise Turbyfill Boltin

Hello again. Lately I have had much to say. Unfortunately, my abundance of words is due to sadness and a certain flood gate of emotions that has been opened. I wish it could be under different circumstances. But they are thoughts nonetheless. Thoughts that I wish to share with you because they concern people that you deserve to learn about and hopefully understand the impact they had on my life.

Meet Jennie Louise Turbyfill Boltin, born in Columbia, South Carolina 91 years ago. She was the daughter of the late Arthur and Lottie O. Parr Turbyfill. Nana grew up alongside the Great Depression, WWII, the Cold War, Vietnam, and many more history book happenings. She welcomed in a new century, the 21st century. She left soft, yet evident fingerprints on the lives of her five siblings, two children, ten grandchildren, eighteen great-grandchildren, eight great-great-grandchildren, and any other human being that she came in contact with.

I am fortunate enough to have been one of those eighteen great-grandchildren on the receiving end of her unconditional love. She was present at every Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner that I can remember and always responsible for the perfectly cut, Honey-baked Ham placed in the middle of the table. She never missed a birthday. She noticed every new freckle that landed on my nose. I could always count on a good back-scratch if I was ever in a room with her for more than five minutes. (If you know me, you know that back scratches are my favorite thing on this planet.) All of these things may seem like small, insignificant things to someone who never knew my Nana. But you are very wrong. These were all puzzle pieces (she loved puzzles too) that when fit together, showcased an extravagant woman who left a trail of Pound cake and great wisdom wherever she chose to go. 

My last days with Nana were very memorable. It was in the guest room of my Granny's house in Yemassee that I watched her drift off into a state of eternal happiness. That may sound depressing and you are probably wondering why anyone would want to remember their loved one's like that. But she was still the same ole Nana. She still wanted her head full of luscious, stark-white hair to be scratched and she wanted to be surrounded by those she loved at all times. One of my favorite things to do was to hold her hands. I am not exaggerating when I say that they were the softest hands I have ever felt. Ask any one of my family members and they would agree with me. I dare you. They were hands that had provided for her family, mended broken hearts, written love letters, and planted seeds in the lives of those surrounding her that would at some point, germinate and leave a life-long impact of some kind. Of course it was difficult to see her in an unimaginable amount of pain and it was even harder to admit to myself that there was nothing I could do to make it subside. But I was also excited for her at the same time. For in a short amount of time, she would be reunited with Poppy. Her soulmate. Her last name sake. And although my eyes fill with tears every time I think about the fact that the oldest member of our family and the one responsible for holding us together most of the time is no longer with us, I know that Poppy must be overjoyed to hold her in his arms again. 

I will see you again soon Nana. Pinky Promise. Make room for all of us up there and make sure to share your Pound cake. They deserve a little slice of heaven too. I love you to the moon and back. 

Bye Bye

 

Boy oh boy! What a month it has been. May of 2013 has taken "spring cleaning" to a whole different level. I have dusted off the shelves and "re-visited" my first true heartbreak. I've taken out the trash surrounding me that had only left an unpleasant aroma more often than not. I have lost a few things and people that meant the most to me. And as cliche as it sounds, I have discovered things about myself that I never knew existed. But let me tell you. I could not be happier than I am now to know that in a matter of hours, I will be able to turn the page in my handy dandy planner to a new month.  

So take a short stroll with me down memory lane. A not-so-pleasant one at that.  

On your first right you will see a series of events and conversations that left me immensely confused yet at the same time very happy. I could have seen it coming. And I probably could have prevented it from happening. (Let me apologize ahead of time for not sharing all the juicy details.) But now that I think of it, if I had done everything in my power to resist it, I would be lacking a few important life lessons that have since then been added to my repertoire. Although re-learning lessons that were difficult to learn the first time was not enjoyable, I feel as though it was necessary. I obviously hadn't grasped the initial concept.  

A couple blocks down the road on your left is the home of great loss. No, I am not talking about the loss of my favorite pencil, or the loss of six inches of hair from the front of my face (I GOT BANGS!). I am speaking of the loss of not only one, but two family members that has left two gaping holes in the world where they used to live. Keep in mind that both of these tragic events occurred within the same two weeks. Kind of hard to process and extremely overwhelming. My Papa (Mom's dad) and my Nana (Mom's grandma) will always hold a special place in my heart. I have been very fortunate to grow up in the family that I have. And they are partly to blame for that. Their contrasting personalities created a perfect balance that hosted a pretty decent (that's an understatement) childhood. Thank you Papa, and thank you Nana. 

  

By the time I have finished this blogpost, there is approximately one minute left in the month of May and I'm not sure if the smile on my face could get any bigger. June will be full of surprises. I just know it. And I am so ecstatic to discover what the next 30 days entails. 

-lils

Papa-1, Cancer-0

Long time no blog! Things have been busy busy busy in this quaint town. Between the end of the school year, friends, and family emergencies, I have not had much time to really sit down and write all of my thoughts out. 

Unfortunately, amongst the list of reasons why I have not had the time to write to you, was family emergencies. I have experienced things this week that although not desirable, have changed the way I see things in life. For the better. 

The world lost a gem of a person 8:15, Wednesday morning. James Scott Copeland. Also known as one of my two Papa's, my mom's dad, my grandma's husband, and Everly's great grandfather.  For those of you who had never met my Papa, you missed out on one of the most peaceful humans this world has ever known. Yes, I have learned a lot and will continue to learn a multitude of information from my educators. But no one else could have taught me the things that he did. And by the end of this blogpost, my goal is to have given you a glimpse into the life of a man that left behind a legacy of commitment and pure love.

Papa was diagnosed with Glioblastoma on Thanksgiving day of 2010. This is the most common and most aggressive malignant primary brain tumor found in humans. Kind of ironic timing isn't it? It is hard to be thankful when a close family member is labeled with a disease that has the capability to be fatal. It is even harder to comfort your sorrowful grandma when she learns that the amount of time left with her soulmate is decreasing by the minute. But he never saw it like that. I was sitting in a chair with Granny when the doctor came to deliver the not-so-great news (I believe the doctor had the hardest job in the world).  Despite the sudden expression of devastation coming from us all, Papa simply chuckled. You heard me. He laughed. And he responded to Granny by saying "It's okay girl, I'll be fine." If that was not a perfect representation of the type of life he led, then I don't know what is. He was not scared. He did not fret. It was evident that he was content with the way his life had played out and he had accepted the fact that essentially, he had no control over the direction that things took from there. If it happened, it happened. If it didn't, it didn't. 

My mom bought Papa a book a while back called "A Father's Legacy". It was a blank collection of pages that hosted questions that would spark the recollection of memories and life lessons. He was to fill them out month by month. And he did just that down to the very last page. 

His handwriting will always be my favorite.

I got the privilege Wednesday of reading through his favorite memories and events in his life. It was almost as if I could hear him saying the words I was reading as I read them. Every prompt was completed almost to the very last line on the page. Except one page. The question was to the effect of "Is there anything that you were afraid of as child growing up and is there anything that you are afraid of now?" And although I despise one-word answers, this one was perfect. He simply wrote, "No!" He was not afraid of anything. He did not allow fear to occupy his thoughts. I feel as though most people might respond with the general answers of spiders, the dark, or maybe snakes. I would have written all of those things plus a few. But not my Papa. 

It is kind of difficult to reminisce on every memory I have of him at the moment. My thoughts concerning him recently have been mournful considering the fact that I have to accept that I can no longer ask him for one of those little, white, spearmint lifesavers after church every Sunday. Or that we can no longer sing one of my favorite songs from my childhood that he taught me, Skidamarink. But I have to come to the realization that we must smile because of the fact that we were so privileged to have had him in our lives rather than cry because he is not with us anymore. And although most people will say that he lost his battle with cancer, I strongly disagree with you on that one. My Papa won. He did not allow such a negative thing to occupy the remainder of his life. Nor did he let it determine the way he would spend the remainder of his days. 

The blessings I count tonight all pertain to you Papa. Your ever-present smile. Your contagious laugh. Your true love for Granny and our family. Your conisistent walk with God. Your comforting peace. And it is because of the peace that you so gracefully displayed in your final days with us that I am able to sleep tonight. I love you. 

Skidamarink a dink a dink. 
Skidamarink a doo. 
I love you. 

Skidamarink a dink a dink.
Skidamarink a doo.
I love you.

I love you in the morning. 
And in the afternoon. 
I love you in the evening. 
And underneath the moon. 

Skidamarink a dink a dink.
Skidamarink a doo.
I love you.

A post about a guy

So I know that I promised I would not spill all of my thoughts to you. I have to protect a decent amount of my integrity and there is an amount of privacy I wish to keep. But I just couldn't help myself with this one. 

Many of you may be hoping that this is one of those intricate, juicy love stories that reveals my prince charming. NOPE. Guess again. 

I have an incredible sister. She has been the perfect combination of brutal honesty and inspirational pep talks that I have needed so far in my life to help mold me into the person that I am and will be. But there is more to come about her later.  

Meet Zachariah Mark Walker.  

 Also known as Zacharoo, Bubba, Zachary, or just one of my favorite people to walk the face of this earth. He is mentioned in my conversations at least 10 times daily. Yes, he is that great. 

Let me just begin with the disclaimer that contrary to siblings in other families, I have always been fond of him. Maybe not as fond as I have been lately, but he has always been one of my favorite people. 

There is a box at the end of our hallway that is the home to a handful of VHS (I might own the last few in the world) home videos. It has been emptied and refilled numerous times because of my fetish with rewinding and re-watching my past. In these nylon reels of memories you will find an interesting collection of Christmas morning surprises, family vacations, and other 5-guest occurrences that apparently just couldn't go undocumented. If he was in the frame of the camera, it was not long before I crawled my way in to join him. Needless to say, I believe that we were two peas in a pod. Of course I was very young, so memories are somewhat vague from that point in my life. But he is a memory that has never been far from my mind. 

I could leave it at this picture and say nothing more. But I will keep going, if you insist.

Zach and I have spent hours arguing on life lessons or what band we think has the best bass drop. We have gone weeks without talking for reasons that were never really established. And there have been moments when I don't think I have ever been so angry with one person. I refer to them as moments because they probably only lasted for 5 minutes at the most. But it is because of those moments that there is more space available for us to become even closer than we already are. If that is possible. 

I have watched him grow. And I have watched him change. Therefore I feel as though I have a pretty good grasp on why he is the way he is and the ways he has affected my life.  I have him to thank for my impeccable taste in music. I have him to thank for bringing Sarah, his gorgeous bride and one of my most trustworthy friends into my life.  I have him to thank for the fact that if any given situation calls for it, I know what part of my hand to use and where to punch someone in the face if I need to get rid of their loud opinion quickly. (My mom will love that one). 

I always love to interject when someone makes a comment to the affect of "I wish I had  brother" is said. Correction. You wish you had a brother like MY brother.  Somebody who protects you from any situation (I was convinced at a young age that he was my guardian angel). Somebody who looks past your flaws and stupidity because of the simple fact that they love you, no matter what. That is what you want. And that is what I have. I am bragging.

So Zacharoo, if you are reading this, thank you for being you. Thank you for teaching me those life lessons that no one else could pound into my brain. Thank you for spending time with me when I know I could not have more unpleasant to be around. Let me repeat myself. You have been and will continue to be one of my favorite people. Ever. 

Prepare yourself Jennie, you're next :)