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[lindsaybiggers-blog]

i would have done more.

in what i refer to as “hell week” - the home hospice days with my dad, we had a lot of time to talk as i would play night nurse. he’d call me “florence” for florence nightingale and i would watch his every move -- where was he trying to go? was he sleeping? did he eat? does he like this tv show we’re watching? outwardly he kept telling me to stop, but i think inwardly he liked the company and care.

during one of those moments, i asked him if he had any regrets. kinda felt then like a dumb, typical question. a “so you’re on your death bed what do you want to confess” bullshit i pulled. (i wish now i was a better journalist there. sorry pops.) 

but anyways.

his answer was as expected as you’d expect. “nope.” man of many words.

but then he sat back in his comfy chair, interlaced his long bony tan fingers and said “actually yes. i would have done more.” 

never one to tell us who he voted for in any election, but always one to vocalize to the tv when something dumb was occurring - whether sports, weather or politics - we always kinda knew he stood on the right side of history. 

but it wasn’t perfect.

when i brought home my first boyfriend in college who happened to be black, he acted like it was no big deal. but really he wanted nothing to do with him. for a long time, all of us brushed it off as “well he’s not really that good of a dude - so that’s probably why.” but months into the relationship, i finally had the courage to call a spade a spade. it was then that he said something like, “i didn’t raise you to see color but i didn’t realize that i see it myself. i never knew what i would do if this happened and now i’m dealing with it myself.” 

fast forward, that guy was a tool. good riddance. but it paved the way to change in his heart, so by the time ainsley came into lauren’s picture, the painting was full of color and acceptance. 

now back to hell week. “i would have done more.” he talked about how he never liked trump and hated what he was doing to our country. but beyond the obvious, he said something that has stuck with me ever since. he said “i would have protested.”

this man, this mysterious, powerful, giant of a man who i loved, respected and wondered so many times what was he thinking just told me that he would have protested. it was so bold, so out of character for him and his mystery.

today, it’s been two years since he left this earth. my heart doesn’t even ache because he isn’t here. i didn’t wake up thinking “today is the day.” and really that’s because it happened long before june 5. that’s just a dumb day that marks it was finished. 

instead, my heart aches because of the injustices we have in our country and the ignorance we have in people often very close to us. the frustrations i have toward others at the moment, i’m working to turn inward to dig up and deal with  my own personal demons and imperfections. because i remember the days i locked car doors as i drove through the very streets and neighborhood that me and my (much-better!) black boyfriend now call home. because i remember being fearful if mom ran inside a gas station and left me in the car to “fend for myself.” 

we’ve got work to do. i’ve got work to do. 

i’ve had enough. i’m not waiting anymore on the young people to save us, or tolerating the older generation’s “that’s just all i know” attitudes. and i’m not waiting until someone asks me the same stupid question on my death bed - do you have any regrets? 

folks, it’s time to get comfortable in the uncomfortable. to speak up. to stand up. to leave it all on the line.

change is coming. and i’m going with it.

dad - i love you, i miss you. you raised one hell of a daughter, and i’m going to be damn sure to fight like hell to make this world a better place. rest easy, old man.

 below: one of my favorite pictures i captured coming home from a family vacation in Philly, Jan 2016. always mysterious. always thinking. 

[lindsaybiggers-blog]

norman.

i know today is mother’s day, but i’ve been thinking a lot about my dad recently. on friday, my boyfriend shaun graduated from pharmacy school. a ceremony-less event, no pomp and circumstance on a day that is supposed to be only that. the day before, i drove to the bank drive-thru and signed over my title to my beloved baby girl benny pontoon to my aunt beth. papers were tossed through the window box, i signed them on the steering wheel, and tossed them back. i asked “is that it?” and she said “yes, that’s it.” and i drove away.

eight years of pharmacy school without a walk and a handshake.

seven years of exhausting maintenance and ownership just handed over in an instant.

when i purchased my boat in 2013, i had attended the boat show in charlotte with mom and dad in january. dad kept making fun of me for buying a “party barge” often getting distracted by the shiny glitter of the bass boats he loved so dearly. “buy one of these,” he’d say. in looking at the $150K+  price tag, i’d pat his chest back and say “we already bought one of those, it’s in there” often making jokes that his new bass boat was in the cost of his bionic heart.

as we’d walk the platforms of the boats, the salesmen would immediately come up to dad “hey sir, how can we help you?” “she’s a beauty isn’t she?” and so forth. “this isn’t for me,” he’d say. all the salesman would be taken back that dad wasn’t the one buying the boat but also that he wasn’t the one paying for it. it was one of the first in-your-face gender stereotypes i had experienced. but dad remained cool, calm and collected “if you want the sale, you better talk to the one writing the check.”

when i purchased the actual boat a few months later, i called him and said “do you want to go with me to buy it?” in typical tim biggers fashion he said “now why would i want to do that and why would you need me?” i think part of me wanted to do it with him. still looking back, i kinda wish i had that moment with him. (that doesn’t take away from the cool and still-told hilarious moment of buying it with my co-captain christy lounging from the chaise with our feet kicked up.)

the first time we went out on it together, norman was choppy and it was chilly. i was learning how to navigate it and he was teaching me the ropes. i drove and he just watched. he handed me a giant paper map of norman, and i remember laughing saying “there’s an app for that.” but he tucked it away behind the captain’s chair and said “there’s nothing better than a paper map. it’s always going to be right.”

as the waters got choppier, i started to get nervous and started to feel overwhelmed that i was in over my head. i asked him to take over and he hesitated. he kept telling me i had it, but i didn’t think so. i gave up, frustrated, and he took over. 

over the years, i learned to navigate it through choppy waters, get it out when it got stuck in mud, repair it, take it for service and so much more. i don’t think he ever rode on it after that time but everything i learned about navigating the waters, i learned from him. 

i think almost every mother’s day after 2013 we spent on norman. with bubbly rose, flappy hats, books and floats tied up to her side, the girls would spend the entire day relaxing in duck cove. as a matter of fact, i think several father’s days were spent there too “the only gift i need is for you to let hc hang out with you,” he say (mainly because he wanted some quiet time haha)

but last fall, i pulled her out of the water for my final time and handed over her keys to the other biggers. and last week, i officially signed her away from one biggers to another. yet here i was accomplishing another thing alone, without his help. in that moment, i wanted to call him and say “hey dad, guess what i did? you’ll never believe i signed a document through a drive thru” but then i remembered there wouldn’t be a voice at the end of the call. 

as i drove away from the bank feeling both accomplished and terribly sad, i feel like i heard dad say “you did good kid.” and maybe that’s what all of us are trying to find right now, isolated and alone in a weird and scary time. maybe we’re all just looking for a little hug, a little praise, a little pat on the back that says “whatever you’re doing, you’re doing it well kid.”

to those celebrating graduations without celebrations, may you find happiness in your accomplishments even though there was no stage.

to those grieving today because not every holiday is a good one for you, may you know that not all days are good days, but the good days are coming. don’t give up the good fight, but also know that it’s ok to not be ok.

to those feeling isolated, struggling with the stay at home orders and weirdness that covid has brought over our sense of normalcy, may you know that you’re not alone. i encourage you to call someone to check on them when you’re feeling down because we’re all strong together.

and to those celebrating motherhood in any form, happy mother’s day. may you find time to relax and know that even if you are far away from those you love, that you are loved far away.

thanks to all the parents for all the life lessons. continue to teach us and raise up strong sons and daughters, just as my dad did, even when we’re well into our 30s.

[lindsaybiggers-blog]

troll time tim

one place i never expected to find grief was during the insanity of march madness. yet now thinking about it, i should have known it would have been there all along.

when nc state missed the ncaa tourney, tim wasn’t there to say “i told ya so.” 

when the brackets opened, tim wasn’t there to complete one that would have all of us saying “but why did you pick them!?”

when the games started, tim wasn’t there to troll us non-stop for the next three weeks.

we’ve all tried to take on different roles this year -- from home repairs to financial planning -- trying to figure out how to do things without him physically here. turns out, march madness proved to be no exception. i took the role of saying i told ya so when fellow wolfpackers thought we had it. ainsley took the role of the weird pick to win it all. lauren (happily!) took the roll of chief troll (see below). 

but oh i wish none of us had to try to fill the shoes at all. some people say they wish they could just hear their loved one’s voice one more time. in the digital age, we can do that with saved voicemails and videos. instead, i wish i could just have another everyday moment -- one shining moment - where troll time tim could just be his every day self with me again sending me a stupid tweet about how poorly-picked my bracket was as an nc state alum.  

so here i sit, watching basketball realizing there is a lesson in march madness... one person’s happiest day may be another’s saddest. 

approaching almost ten months without tool time tim (how the hell have we made it this far even!?), i keep telling myself i am ok. and for the most part, that is true. dad prepared me well, he taught me to be strong, and i have found to live because of him. but i have to also admit, there are some days where that’s not true - and those closest to me would likely have no clue that that day would be considered an upset. 

so as the brackets bust this march, i challenge you all to remember what may or may not be causing an upset in the lives of those you love. and if you are struggling and/or know someone that is i encourage you to phone a friend (slide into a dm?), share a beer or extend a hand. you might never know how much just a small gesture like that might be a ray of hope in an otherwise confusing or gloomy day.

above all, i’ve always loved how the the tourney brings us all together (even when wolfpackers are sitting on the sidelines). as i reflect on our family’s traditions, acknowledging the large gap that we now have, we press forward in continuing the keep our traditions and his spirits alive. i hope you can do the same -- that your traditions continue to form, and you always enjoy the unity and sense of community a little game of pickup can bring.

cheers and basketball.

ps: hey dad, i hope your bracket is better upstairs than it is down here. you’re busted.

[lindsaybiggers-blog]

thank u, next.

I’ve always enjoyed New Years. The pomp and circumstance is stupid – and you can keep your overpriced drinks. But the idea that every year, like clockwork, you get to hit reset – well I quite like that. And with 2018 thankfully ending, I find myself doing what most of us do this time of the year – reflecting on what was and identifying what we hope will be.

2018 – you were the worst. When the clock strikes midnight on Tuesday, I will rejoice because you are gone. But I am also smart enough to know that in your thorns, you provided some roses. Thanks for teaching me the following life lessons:

Just go. You have one life to live – live it while there is still time.

Climb the mountain. You might regret it, but then again, you might not.

Know when to say no. And sometimes that means not doing something, or going somewhere, that you really wanted to. Make the tough decisions when you need to, not necessarily because you want to.

Be unconventional. If you can wear white after Labor Day, you can certainly wear red to a funeral.

Dance in the rain. Turns out, it is just as fun as the movies made it out to be.

Celebrate your successes. So, you pulled off two major events in two major hurricanes – that deserves a self pat-on-the-back.

Be vulnerable. Unfortunately, sometimes this means letting others catch you crying or finally giving truth to the fact that maybe you aren’t “just fine” all the time.

Stand up for yourself. Whether in the office, at home or in a relationship, sometimes you need to put on your big girl pants and show them who’s boss. And if you need a little help getting started, throw back a shot, girl.

Do something. Become a part of the women’s wave, for example. The future is female after all.

Put your sad cow eyes away. Contradictory to the vulnerability statement, have your moment and then move on. In sickness and in health, meet people where they need to be met – and sometimes that means laughing when you really want to cry.

And while I’m still working on my official 2019 New Year’s Resolutions, there are a few things that 2018 is still teaching me that I need to master a bit:

Work less. Stop letting your 9-to-5 become your 24-7. Unplug and breathe in the fresh air.

Take care of yourself. Even those who care for others must find time to heal and repair.

Love out loud. I’ve written a lot about this in 2018, and I’m learning to be more open with those in my life about how much I love and appreciate them. I’m not where I want to be here yet, but I am a work in progress.

2018, you took from me some of my most prized possessions, and yet you brought me a lot of joy and happiness. Thank you for taking me all over the world as well as to my knees. You have made me stronger, yet more fragile. And it is because I hate you so much, I will always remember you.

2019, you’re up babygirl.

[lindsaybiggers-blog]

thanks.

in a year where so much has been lost, it can be hard to find the thankfulness on thanksgiving day. but to be fair, thanksgiving is often a holiday i very much overlook thanks to black friday and my job at the internet.

but this week, i find myself missing my dad more than i feel i had in recent weeks. so instead of forcing that sadness out i’m leaning in to it today. earlier this week, big red had an unexpected engine problem that resulted in an expensive trip to the dealership. on one hand i thought “dad would think this is insane. i should have taken it to a buddy of his to look at instead of spending this much money.” on the other hand i thought “dad would think it’s stupid i’m calling him about this. i'm an adult, figure it out.” so i pulled out that biggers strong strength and handled it. but i wish i could have talked to him about it anyway.

while sitting in my local watering hole last night drinking a delicious beer and catching up on emails, i overheard several people talking about their thanksgiving plans - where they were going, what they were making, etc. several were complaining (as we all do) about the amount of work, the traffic, the obnoxious family time. i thought about the fact that this was/is the first year where my mom is in nyc with my sister, and my dad is gone. i didn’t know that last year was going to be the last thanksgiving we would have together. i would have probably complained less.

the bar played born to run. thanks dad, i needed to know you were there.

this morning, as i watch the internet sales pour in while sipping coffee and watching football, i wish i could tell him how much money we’re making. which again is stupid because thanksgiving shouldn’t be about black friday. we would have talked about the site, the company, the change in leadership, how frustrating it’s been to work there recently. he would have made me feel like my job was cool - even though most of the time it isn’t. he would have made the fact that i am working on thanksgiving day a part of the conversation. a weird tradition now that i think about it.

i miss my dad this year. and it is really hard to be thankful today. but i am. 

i am thankful for the how he raised me. for how damn strong and independent he made me to be. i am thankful that my standards are obnoxiously high and that it intimidates the hell out of men. 

i am thankful that he became vulnerable with me in the last days, and allowed me to see a more intimate side of him than i ever experienced before. i am thankful that by seeing his vulnerability this year, it subconsciously told me that i could be vulnerable with my loved ones too.

i am thankful that in a year of the lowest of lows, i experienced the highest of highs. i am thankful for friends who pushed me to climb mountains (literally) and joined me when i was on the floor.

i am thankful for new beginnings. for being able to dance in the rain (literally. thanks #hurricaneflorence). i am thankful this biggers gained a new biggers (#nattanotherwedding). i am thankful that hurricane cindy bought a house in a hurricane because the story is so much better that way. i am thankful that the biggers girls had a moving party and stayed up until the wee hours of the morning unpacking and finding gems like this picture posted here today. i am thankful that the old man continues to be here in our everyday lives even though he’s not actually here.

i am thankful for the ability to take something painful and turn it into motivation to be better. for the rude awakening that a blanket statement of being thankful for friends, family and health means actually prioritizing the things that matter and eliminating those that don’t.

i am thankful for friends and family texting me this morning addressing the pain of a blue holiday. it makes me cry today, but it also makes me pause, think and be thankful for time well spent.

for all of you that have wrapped me and my family in love and support this year, thank you from the bottom of my heart. today as you spend time complaining about family, friends, traffic, the government, your love life, and whatever else - may you lean in to the precious time that you have doing that. it is my hope that you don’t just give a blanket answer of thanks, but that you take the time to find thankfulness and then surround yourself with what matters.

dad, i miss you so much today and i wish you were here to watch the internet with me. thank you for preparing us (just like you said you would) and for sending us constant reminders that you’re still here. 

with that, i’m going to pull out the christmas decorations, listen to bruce the way god and dad intended, pour a larger-than-necessary glass of gingerbread stout and be thankful even though it’s painful.

happy thanksgiving. 

[lindsaybiggers-blog]

life is just a classroom

you don’t just get older on your birthday, but i woke up yesterday feeling thirty five years older than the age of thirty four i actually riped into. in the #yearofhell, most of my events have been on anyone and anything but me. 

that’s not a woe is me comment, it’s just a fact. one that i was actually ok with because my introverted-extroverted self actually prefers being a stage manager than a headliner.

but when it’s your birthday, all eyes are on you. (but let’s get one thing clear -- i will never allow a sombrero on my head or a gong to be banged at a restaurant.) 

for just a brief moment, after helping dad, helping mom and helping lauren, i had this glimpse into a day where i could make it about me. just me. what i wasn’t prepared for was when all the messages came in there was a resounding theme - your year has sucked. we hope the next one doesn’t.

i spent most of the day fighting back tears every time i read another post. and i didn’t hold back the tears when i was in private. 

grief hit me like a ton of bricks yesterday. and this morning when i woke up, my face proved it. all day today it was “you look tired. you look not well.” the truth is, i’m exhausted. i am not well. i spent all day being reminded of how deep in hell the biggers went this year, and then couldn’t shake the fact that i deeply wanted something as stupid as an insignificant text that would never come.

every insta post, every text message, every snap and every facebook post (lol, facebook walls), i kept thinking maybe this is all a dream and he’ll send one. there’s still time before the clock strikes twelve.

he didn’t. he can’t. he never will again.

this is thirty four. 

taylor swift writes about her ridiculous romances, which leads tweens (ok, thirty somethings) all over the globe relate to them and think “gah, why didn’t i write that?” but yesterday, as i cried on the way into the office listening to tay-tay, i tried to find and channel the inspiration she gets from boy bashing toward my life-sucking year.

We cry tears of mascara in the bathroom Honey, life is just a classroom

'Cause baby I could build a castle Out of all the bricks they threw at me And every day is like a battle But every night with us is like a dream Baby we're the new romantics Come on, come along with me Heartbreak is the national anthem We sing it proudly We're too busy dancing to get knocked off our feet Baby we're the new romantics The best people in life are free

gah, why didn’t i write that? she so gets me.

i got knocked off my feet yesterday. and i didn’t expect it. not on a day that was supposed to be happy. 

it reminded me to remind you of this - when dealing with people, especially your loved ones, not all days that are supposed to be happy are going to be happy. go the extra mile, check in on them a little bit more, follow their lead, and tell them they matter. stop holding back until the perfect moment. don’t live your life saying “when i get X, i’ll do Y.” put less pressure on yourself to be perfect. throw your caution to the wind and love out loud. be hugh grant standing in front of julia roberts convincing her to love him. make someone laugh in an awkward situation. do whatever it is you need to do to make sure your people know today, tomorrow and every day that this is life - this is what matters - and all the other bullshit is stupid. and do it not just on the days that matter, but the days that don’t.

for those of you that threw an unintentional brick at me yesterday acknowledging my pain, thank you. it broke me, but today, it inspires me to be free.

so thirty three, goodbye and good riddance. i hated you and i hope thirty four does better (#CancelKavanugh). babygirl, we’re going to have some good days, and we’re sure as hell going to have some bad days. but whatever comes our way -- we’re gonna fight like hell to take the bricks that god - and now dad - are throwing at us and build that castle. 

i’m exhausted. i’m mad as hell. that means it’s time to get to work.

ps: hey dad, how is it i never painted the free expression tunnel? i guess i’ve got a lot to say there now.

[lindsaybiggers-blog]

unprecedented.

we keep joking in our lives that of course another crazy thing would happen to us this year. yet the reality of it all is that when my dad died somewhat unexpectedly this summer, that was more than enough for one year. 

there is no end game.

we’re in uncharted territory folks.

this is unprecedented.

come what may.

it is what it is.

those were all quotes he said the last week of his life. at the time, they were little pieces of truth that told us the end was near. but now, they’ve taken on a completely different meaning for me - they are tiny reminders that tell me to take a minute and think before moving forward.

this week, in uncharted territory, little hurricane cindy and i closed on a beach bungalow in wilmington, north carolina. a week ago, you might not have had a clue where that was. but now, it’s the center of attention for everyone, including massive hurricane florence. 

“oh my gosh, you bought a house in wilmington this week? what if it falls down? what if it floods? what are you going to do?”

me: we’re in uncharted territory folks. it is what it is.

now, as if your dad dying and your mom buying a beach house in a hurricane path wasn’t enough, let’s throw your only sister’s wedding on top of it!

unprecedented.

after planning a wedding for well over a year, within 48 hours a few friends and several good souls rewrote the script to bring an outdoor celebration indoors, but still in a hurricane mind you.

so here i sit outside my porch the morning before the new wedding. the trees are swaying in the winds coming in from the east, the skies are turning gray. but there are friends in town, more booze and tacos then the entire town of davidson needs, and a show that must go on.

“you’re sister is still getting married? why didn’t you cancel the wedding? she must be an absolute wreck?”

me: come way may. it is what it is.

this summer, i’ve easily learned more about myself than i’ve understood in several years. what used to stress me out i now find embarrassing. oh, there’s a hole in my shirt? well my dad died this year. you mean i put an incorrect statement in my email i sent to a hundred people? my mom’s house might be gone next week. there’s a ding on my car because people are rude? my sister got married in a hurricane.

the end game for me is to live more abundantly. to be present in the moment, good or bad. to take the curve balls and the soft balls. so, yes, we’re having ourselves a hurricane wedding!

lauren, congratulations on making it to your wedding weekend! i know it was not easy - especially this year with all the obstacles and hurdles dad and god threw at us. here we were worried about sweating our makeup off and if the water would fit in the vases, and now it’s “are you safe? are you happy? then we’re good.” i’m so proud of you for pushing through when others told us we were crazy. you are a force to be reckoned with and i’m so lucky to have a crazy family that just doesn’t give up. now let’s get you to that altar and eat tacos, the way god intended!

ps: dad and god, stop having fun up there. we get it, we can handle anything.

[lindsaybiggers-blog]

give me love.

when my dad had a heart attack in 2003, i was a freshman at nc state, his alma mater. it was new years day. his dad had died on thanksgiving day just a few months before. we were supposed to be in florida watching the gator bowl. i was so angry at him we weren’t there.

my mom called my advisor and told her i was not coming back to school that semester. i went back. my dad couldn’t tell me to do so then because he was in a coma, but he would have. 

i remember walking campus when i got back that night, i was so lost. both as a freshman still unsure where in the hell i was, and emotionally for not knowing where my dad was. but i walked to the brickyard. i cried. i prayed. dear god, don’t let my dad die. i hated those bricks. 

fifteen years later, i gathered a group of friends together to go to the nc state versus jmu football game on college opening weekend. this time it was much hotter, i was much older. but he wasn’t there, and this time it wasn’t just a coma.

this morning, i intentionally made the decision to walk nc state’s campus and reflect on the shift of my life these past three months. i put my headphones in, flipped on a workout station and started outside of tucker (his dorm) instead of naturally gravitating toward owen (my dorm). unlike that lost freshman, from the start, i knew exactly where i was going, exactly what i was doing. 

but just like that lost freshman, i found myself still lost emotionally. but i kept walking, past fountain, through the free expression tunnel and into the brickyard. i cried. i prayed. dear god, how is my dad now?

along the way, i found myself saying “what about here dad? is this where you’d like to be? there’s a shade spot here. but here you can be in the sun and you do like the heat. i think you’ll like it here, and i promise to get you here someday - but it’s not today.”

passed the hallowed belltower i didn’t think i could do it anymore so i flipped the station from workout to ed sheeran. as if the old man knew i was lost in that exact moment, the song “give me love” came on, causing me to reflect deeper on my relationship with him. he didn’t hug me enough. he didn’t tell me he loved me enough. he made my heart hard and my skin thick. 

not as happy and warm as you thought it’d be right there, right?

his last week of life, his house became a hospital and i became a nurse. always fearful of hospitals, senior citizens and death, i couldn’t believe i was in a situation where i was forced to do something so uncomfortable. in that moment, i had two choices - run from it or run toward it. the lost freshman would have run from it. the lost alumni wanted to. but i ran toward it in the only way i knew how - i made his breakfast, i put on his shoes, i helped him with his medicine, i let him lean fully on me while we walked around his house. 

i didn’t hug him enough. i didn’t tell him i loved him enough. but i tried in that moment to give him love. 

i know without a shadow of a doubt he knew what i was doing. 

i know without a shadow of a doubt that the way he gave me love was by doing similar acts of service as he raised me.

as i walked around carter-finley yesterday, i wanted to hate that wolf statue, to hate the sound of the fireworks. as i walked around his beloved campus today, i wanted to hate these bricks. i wanted to hate this place. but just as i knew it would, the opposite effect happened and i felt an immense love for something he loved. something he taught me to love. something i hope i can one day teach my kids to love.

i am not going to lie, i wish we had loved more out loud. but just as i have learned educationally from these bricks, i am learning emotionally how to live because of these bricks. for those still in my life, know that i hope i learn to love better. i hope we can learn to love more out loud. i want to give love sooner with you than i might have done with him. i want to be a better version of myself than i was as a freshman. i want to be a better version of myself than i was yesterday. 

and know that i also still want to hate these bricks. but i never, ever will.

“give me love like never before. 'cause lately i’ve been craving more.”

[lindsaybiggers-blog]

Oceans rise.

I’m lying in a hammock. The sun has just sadly fallen behind the resort. The reeds and palms are waving mightily in the wind. The sound of the ocean waves crashing on the shoreline is the background noise.

I wonder if this is what heaven is like, or could be like. I don’t imagine my dad doing this same thing if given a choice. Instead I remember him saying “you’re at sea pines?! That’s one of the best greens in the country.” He’d be off there playing golf, not being lazy reading a book in a hammock like me. I don’t play golf, but I now own a set. Dads set.

I sat beside a man at the pool bar yesterday and he mentioned his mom is dying of cancer. He’ll turn 51 on my birthday and his mom is in his 90s. “Is she in pain? Does she seem of good spirits? Is she able to still have a good quality of life?” are questions I found myself asking. I wouldn’t have asked those if it weren’t for my own pain, for knowing how dad answered those questions on his own at the end.

In my pain, I wanted to run to the one place my soul finds peace. And I’m here, and my pain remains deep. I think of him as football starts back - do we win this year dad? I miss him when I see young kids jump into their dads arms splashing as they do. Does your heaven have a pool dad? I hide tears behind my bug eye sunglasses when I hear people say “you’re young, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you!” And I think, but you have no idea how much life was taking away from me.

So here I sit, swaying in a hammock listening to the ocean. Being still. Being present. Being in the moment. Because that’s what I came here to do, to let feelings feel.

When oceans rise, my soul will rest in your embrace. For you are mine, and I am yours.

[lindsaybiggers-blog]

the house.

The house that my dad built went on sale today. 

Today is my mom's birthday. You might think this is an insane birthday present for a mom in mourning, but for hc, dad couldn't have picked a better one if he tried.

I'll admit, my heart hurt a little when I flipped through these pictures. It is so surreal that this house will not be ours much longer. But it is a choice they made long before the road got tough. It’s just giving it away that makes the road to healing a little tougher.

I'm still getting used to all the curve balls God and Dad are throwing at us now -- but there's one thing to know about the Biggers -- if life was easy, it wouldn't be worth living. So while we learn how to sell a house, buy a house, celebrate a birthday, honor an anniversary, marry off a sister and just get to October -- the Biggers girls are growing stronger together, reminding each other to soak it all in and huddle together through the storm. 

In moments of anxiety, I find peace through Lauren's revelation: how perfect that mom gets to move on to her beach house, and dad got to spend his last days in his house.

As we move toward what might be the last few days in the house my dad built, I'll find myself remembering all the stories held within these walls and then pack up everything that will make mom's new house our new home.

Today, I hope dad has his house in heaven. I hope he's sitting on his back porch wishing mom a happy birthday. 

So for your birthday hc, my wish for you is simple. That you take joy in the fact that the house dad built was full of love, laughter and joy -- and it will be all the way until the very end. That you soak up all the hard work and final hours you have poured into it to make a happy home for someone else. That you would remember to think, laugh and cry as we say goodbye. And above all else, I wish that your new home he is providing for you will make you as happy as the one he built for you.

Happy birthday, mom. Cheers to another year.

PS: in the market for a new home? I just might have the perfect place.

[lindsaybiggers-blog]

This week, I passed the one month mark without my dad on this earth. I find myself thinking about heaven more. As a child, I thought about hell. Never heaven. I was scared of hell, raised to believe that if I didn't do every last detail right, I would be there. Heaven seemed impossible to get to and if I made it, a lot less scary. But now without him, I think about it all the time. What does it look like? What does it smell like? Do you know everyone there? Are they all in one place? And if they are, how do they all fit into the same place (because let's be real, a crowded stadium is too much crowd for me.) When he got there, did he immediately get to see his mom and dad? Did he tell them about his girls? If he did, how did he not get sad?

See, and just like that, I get sad again.

Because one month in - every day, something moves me to tears. Jimmy V was right about that. Sometimes, it's quiet and removed from everyone so it goes unnoticed. Sometimes it's obnoxiously public, and people offer comfort and support. In those moments, I often find myself apologizing. Apologizing for behavior that is so expected, so natural, so necessary. Then I hear dad's voice saying "no sad cow eyes" and somehow I smile, wipe my tears away and take another step forward.

I still haven't dealt with everything. Lord knows I'm trying, but there is so much life and emotions and events to tackle even in this first year. But somehow by God's grace, we've managed to survive two holidays and a birthday in only one month. Instead of hiding from his memory, I put it front and center of my life. My refrigerator has had a magazine page I ripped out in my 20s titled “20 things you should do before you turn 35.” (I have done hardly any and most are stupid anyway). Beside it is a magazine article I ripped out while traveling in Ireland in May that describes how Killarney is doing what it can to be one of the heart-friendly places in Ireland. I remember sending that article and picture of a defibrillator booth to my dad while standing beside one in that town. I told him he could move here and he responded “I have a built-in one.” And just tucked behind that is a photo booth card from one of our A2S dinners where my family of four is laughing behind funny glasses, hats and other props. I keep these few memories on my preferred empty front fridge as purposeful reminders every day of my family -- of him.

And if I’m paying attention, I see my mother watch the same video over and over of myself and my sister helping escort dad to the couch late at night. And if you listen in her day-to-day activities, you will hear her say “whoop whoop whoop” which is the sound I make in the video because she has watched it so many times she now says it herself. (That walk ended up being the last time we ever had to do that - it was his final time outside the house on his beloved porch.) I look at the pictures in my phone and around my house and I wish I had more. Why didn't I take more? I listen to the voicemail I have saved in my phone. It says nothing of significance, and yet it is irreplaceable. The last time I was at the house, I stole a golf ball and a Bruce CD from his car (sorry Dad!) and now those are both in my car. These are the reminders I push forward, not under rugs or in closets, because I want to live through him not without him.

In a month, so much has changed and yet time still feels frozen. But if you were raised right, then you are taught to find the strength to not only be fine in life, but to be great. So, I get up, I move forward and I do my best to honor his legacy by living more and more each day.

PS: hey dad.

[lindsaybiggers-blog]

The Coronado Hotel, where Marilyn Monroe filmed Some Like it Hot. I sipped on a sunset mojito in her honor. #sandiego

[lindsaybiggers-blog]

Landed safely in #sandiego this morning... A sunny day for sight seeing. I'll be here all week - so enjoy the adventure. - linds

[lindsaybiggers-blog]

Meet My New Blog.

hey, guys - i know i haven't posted in forever... but i'm going to change that. so, if you love following me (or sister lauren), i recommend you follow our newest blog. this account will stay more generic and personal. the new one will be a join effort focused on traveling. enjoy! Have Cats, Will Travel. http://havecats-willtravel.tumblr.com/

[lindsaybiggers-blog]

so i'm at work today - and it's goregous outside - and college basketball is on. cube life isn't so much fun. then, i realize that cbs streaming march madness on demand. free.

here's my second monitor today. (first photo)

in walks one of my managers. i think "great, i'm about to get in trouble." he says, "have you used the 'boss button' yet?"

"tell me of this 'boss button' you speak of."

in walks my real manager. "what are you two doing? not working?"

"i'm about to show her the 'boss button.'"

"oooohhh... cool! it's kinda awesome."

check this out. (second photo)

a tip of my hat to you cbs sports and your brilliant way of making it look like i was working - when i truly, am not.

and kudos to my manager for introducing the boss button to me.

game on.

[lindsaybiggers-blog]

i was tempted all weekend to check my work email. i was tempted to even bring my computer home and work through the night. today is NOT the day. i will tumblr instead. 

i had a busy weekend. two in a row. unusual for me, for sure. here is a weekend recap of all my favorite things.

- celebrating my birthday. some may say a four-hour solo ride coupled with a rainy, gloomy day would be no way to spend a birthday. i say it is peaceful. relaxing. perfect.

- attending a collegiate football game, four years alum. there is seemingly nothing greater in the world than collegiate pride during a football game. i miss football games. i miss saying "that's another wolfpack FIRST - DOWN." i miss the beating sun. i miss the panic when you see a game start slipping away. i miss the overwhelming sense of joy when your team wins.

- repeating outfits. too lazy to plan ahead, i threw a few articles of clothing in a bag. when none of them seem to work very well, outfit number one returned. tweaked. some call it arrogance. i call it confidence.

- unexpected surprises. unsure how the work week would kick off (which it did by locking myself out of my computer), i came to my desk to a bottle of wine, a singing card and a giant cupcake. i have always been amazed by the little things. i will continue to do so until the day i die.

- spending time with friends. sometimes i think i should do more. be more available to my long-distance friends. communicate more. love harder. and i should do all of these things. but, i find myself overwhelmed by my personal life. buried in work. exhausted from activities. allowing distance to become an excuse. yet, when i am around them - i miss them. i love what it feels like to reminisce on the days past, discuss the current events and dream of the future. i thank them all for sticking around despite my sometimes unnoticeable level of commitment to our friendship. my silence doesn't mean i don't exist. it just means i need to be reminded again.

this weekend, i got the reminder.

i think i should get away more.

[lindsaybiggers-blog]

while watching jennifer anniston on the daily show this morning, she mentioned that friends started in 1994. i was in fourth grade. last night, a best friend of mine got married, whom i met in sixth grade. sometimes, i feel like i haven't changed much. then, i see a picture of the 1994 friends, and a picture of my friends from the 1990s. and that when i realize, perhaps, i am growing up after all.

and that, is a very good thing.