Hometown Tragedy: 28 Hours Later

(Let me start with this. I process my thoughts and feelings through words. That is why I started this Blog. Yesterday I was at a loss for words. All day. And in a moment of calm today-- I began to write.)

28 hours have passed.

28 hours ago two innocent lives were taken and the national spotlight found itself fixated on my hometown.

Yesterday was terrible.

I was scared to find out about an active shooter situation just minutes from my house...
Uneasy to find out that my child's daycare was on lockdown...
Then devastated to learn that two young, talented news professionals had lost their lives...
And that the person responsible was still on the run.

My drive to work was full of tears as I listened to the details unfold over the airwaves of a local radio station. They cut in after every song to let listeners know the latest developments. They even picked up the live announcement audio from WDBJ7 when they confirmed that they had lost two of their own. This was happening to all of us.

The world stopped in Roanoke, Virginia. Nothing moved.

The news traveled fast and wide and suddenly the place I have called home for 26 years was flooded with attention... Good, Bad, National, International...
The National Spotlight burns hard and fast...

To see your hometown trending on every social media outlet... is not a good thing. The feeling isn't that of pride. It's shame.
Shame that this awful event took two innocent lives ... Tore apart two families... Broke countless hearts... And devastated countless people around the world.
But it just so happened to be at your back door. And it all becomes that much more real.

Why chose to broadcast such a heinous crime on live television? Why force those friends and family to re-live their loves ones horrific last moments? We will never know the answers to these questions. The families will never see justice done.
This isn't a game. This isn't a TV show. This is real life.. Real people... Real lives. Lost.
But they are right. Those videos are not to be taken lightly. Those videos are horrific.
That is someone's daughter. Someone's son. Someone's best friend. The love of someone's life.

The National Spotlight burns hard and fast... and burns out quickly.
It has been 28 hours. My beloved hometown has been the focus of every news outlet around the world for the last 28 hours. Reporters and Journalists that I have respected and adored for years are outside of WDBJ7 & the Bridgewater Marina updating the world on the latest developments.
But what's next?
... in 24 more hours the satellite trucks will pack up and move out.
... the news cycle will hit "refresh", the reporters will go home and our community will become quiet again.
From that point on-- as each day passes-- the feelings will fade.
The world will continue to turn and we will continue to go about our lives.
Just as Columbine did. And Newtown. And Virginia Tech.
We will mourn for the lives lost forever. And we will celebrate their accomplishments and potential.
But, what is next?
When will enough be enough?
Who else has to die for the country-- the world-- to realize that gun violence is a serious issue that needs to be taken seriously.
No more stonewalling. No more petty arguments. People are dying.
I beg the leaders of this country to come together and think of the countless lives lost to gun violence and act!
I don't have the answers. I never claimed to.
But what else needs to happen?
Who else needs to die?
This country is in pain and we are begging someone to speak up and solve the problem.
My hometown is in pain and I want to make sure that no one else has to watch these events unfold as they get their kids ready for school in the morning.
No one else should get the phone call that Adam & Alison's family got that morning. No one else.

It is so easy to forget how real these tragic events are.
If you don't live in Columbine....
If you didn't lose anyone in the Newtown school shooting. But they still hurt. 

This area knows this feeling a little too well.
It was only 8 years ago that so many beautiful lives were lost on the Virginia Tech campus. A tragedy all too similar. We had the same gut wrenching feeling watching videos that day as the shots rang out. 

We cried. We fought back. We stood strong and we moved forward. 

And the same will happen at WDBJ7 and in Roanoke, Virginia.

We mourn these beautiful lives. Pray for the victim fighting for her life. Pray for peace for all of the family and loved ones affected. 

But the tears will dry. And life will move forward. No one will ever forget.
But my hope is that Alison & Adam will be remembered beyond this tragedy.

It is my hope that the memories of Adam & Alison...
and the 32 people killed at Virginia Tech...
and the 26 people killed at Sandy Hook Elementary..
and the 13 people killed at Columbine High School...
and the 9 people killed in Charleston, SC...
and the 12 people killed in an Aurora, Colorado movie theater...
and the 12 people killed in the Washington Navy Yard...
and the 13 people killed at Fort Hood...
and the countless others lost to gun violence across the country and around the world... every day.

It is my hope that their deaths will not be in vain. And that one day we can celebrate their lives and their impact on this world when a solution is found and the world puts and end to gun violence.
It will be in their honor. And on that day I will know that these people all made a lasting impact on my life... our lives... the country... the world... and the future.
They lost the opportunity to have a future of their own... but it is my hope that their stories will create a better future for us all.

Sending all of my love to Alison Parker & Adam Ward. Two young, talented professionals that I did not have the honor to know but I know that the two of you were truly loved by everyone you met.
Sending thoughts & prayers to their families and loved ones. We are so very sorry for your loss.
And to everyone at WDBJ7-- my heart goes out to you as you lose two special friends & teammates. I used to work as a producer at a competitor station and I speak for everyone who has EVER worked in a newsroom when I say: we are with you. Our hearts pour out to you. And every time you go on-air and manage to hold yourselves together under the most unbelievable of circumstances-- my respect for each of you grows and I am touched at your compassion and professionalism throughout this trying ordeal. Stay Strong. #RoanokeStrong 

With Love, 
J.

A Reflection of my Father

Those of you who know me know what I'm going through...
but for those of you who don't-- I lost my father this week.

Before you go on and assume this is going to be some sappy, sad recount of my favorite memories written by the quintessential Daddy's Girl-- you're wrong.
I was not a Daddy's girl.
I loved my father but in a different kind of way.
Not because of anything my father DID... but because of the man he was.
And the man he was perplexed me.

My father was quiet, reserved, funny, soft-spoken, smart, talented and simple.
Of those, the only traits that I consider common are my humor, my intelligence -- most of which I owe to him... and my talents-- which he helped to nurture and grow as much as he possibly could.

I am loud. I am aggressive. I am spoiled. I am outspoken. I have no filter and I express my emotions as if they were on a flashing sign above my forehead.
My father was none of these things.

He liked to think before he spoke. Sometimes it felt like it took him forever to come up with a response. (forever in the mind of a young girl, that is) In many instances I actually assumed he couldn't hear me because it took him so long to respond. I was never like that.
He enjoyed the outdoors. We camped when my sister and I were younger but stopped once I reached the age where dirt and a lack of indoor plumbing became an issue. He loved it. He loved to camp and could probably have spent all of his time outside-- even in bad weather he found ways to enjoy it. I was never like that.
He preferred quiet solitude. He was not a recluse or shut-in, don't get me wrong. He just enjoyed being by himself and the peace of that. He got remarried when I was 18 (or so) and they found that comfort of being alone together. But he never sought out large crowds, or enjoyed big get togethers with friends. I was never like that.
He never shared his feelings. He didn't get mad easily and I don't really ever remember seeing him cry my entire life. He didn't even usually say "I Love You" when hanging up after a phone call. I was never like that.

I remember the first time he said "I Love You" when hanging up-- my mom and dad had just recently gotten divorced-- I was around 17. I said "I Love You" as I went to hang up -- putting the phone down to hit the "end" button-- I heard him say, softly, as the phone was a foot or so from my ear... "Love You, Too". I remember tears welled up in my eyes because I knew that wasn't something he did out of habit like most of us-- but he was genuinely trying to make me understand that he loved me, no matter what.

Despite all of our differences, he was half of me. Half of my heart.

Last March, I was 7+ months pregnant. I was at work when my dad called my cell phone to tell me he was in the hospital. I got upset and left work-- heading straight for the hospital, When he told me the doctors found a mass in his brain I assumed that it would all be okay in the end. But when the oncologist came in... my stomach dropped.
My dad was diagnosed with a Brain Tumor (GBM) and the prognosis was not good. He originally didn't want any treatment -- beyond an initial "de-bulking" surgery that only uncovered that the tumor was inoperable. I cried so much. I was pregnant with my first child and all I could think about was him missing the opportunity to meet her and be the amazing Grandfather I had watched him become with my sister's kids.
I guess I will never know exactly what changed his mind (many have suggested to me that it was my daughter's quickly approaching arrival) but he agreed to try one round of treatment-- chemo and radiation. It was so hard on him. He became frail and fragile-- something I had never associated with my tall, handsome, strong father before. I knew he wasn't going to keep going with the treatments but he was at the hospital the morning after I gave birth to welcome CD into the world.

A string of very unfortunate events landed my father in a Rehab center for the last few months of his life -- as he was not able to do most things on his own anymore.
He was already gone in a way. He didn't talk much. That was the hardest part. All I wanted was to joke with him, laugh, talk to him about his day and mine. Every time I went to visit I would PRAY that the Dad I remembered and grew up with would be in his room when I arrived-- each and every time. But he wasn't. He never was.

I lost my father this week but the man I grew up with and loved was really gone a few months ago-- and I can't decide if that is making this easier or harder on me.
I have had friends lose their parents suddenly and the shock can be the worst -- not knowing that someone is going to leave you and not remembering the last time you saw them or spoke to them or what you said. But I knew what was coming-- I may have been holding out hope for a miracle-- but I knew he was going to die. I knew for months. But when the Hospice worker called to tell me to bring my sister because he wasn't going to make it... There is nothing in this life that compares and nothing in this life that can prepare you for that moment. I couldn't catch my breath. It didn't feel real. But we were there and I held his hand as his breaths got more shallow...

But he lived a full life.
He loved and lost. He walked myself and my oldest sister down the aisle. He dropped all of us off at college and saw us all become independent adults. He met his first 4 grandchildren. He got to see a Formula 1 race-- which we all know was a big dream of his.

I will miss my father every day. Every. Single. Day.
Every time Basketball is on TV.
Every time I hear a Neil Young song... or Talking Heads, or Gillian Welch, or Alison Krauss, or The Beatles, or Frank Sinatra.
Every time I hear or see a fast car that I know he would have drooled over.
Every time I load the dishwasher. (It might be weird but he was very particular about loading the dishwasher and he taught me all of his tricks)
Every time I eat chips & salsa. (He would always sit in front of the TV with a bag of chips and a jar of salsa to watch a game or a race)
Every time I look down at my crooked pinky finger. (Its genetic. apparently)

The pain comes in waves. Debilitating waves.
In an instant. Your throat starts to close up and you feel like you can't catch you breath. Without even realizing it, there are giant tears streaming down your cheeks.
One second, you're reading a post on Facebook or watching TV and then suddenly you start looking like someone who just lost their father.

The hardest part is going on. Because no matter how dark you feel in that moment... the sun will still fall and rise, and a new day begins. The first of many to come when you feel guilty that the world keeps turning even without the man who was once my world.


Sorry if this post was depressing for anyone, but it was therapeutic for me to get these thoughts out. Almost like he could hear me.
I appreciate all of you who have prayed for me and my family. Sometimes when you lose something so important, you are reminded of all of the blessings you have--  And I am blessed with an amazing group of people around me. And for that I am thankful.

With Love, 
J.
"Rest peacefully, Daddy. We miss you."

A New Approach to New Year's Resolutions

I'm not the "Resolution" type… and by that I mean, I never follow through on my "Resolutions"

They usually last a few days… sometimes less if it is exercise related.

But this year I took a new approach.

Instead of focusing on the small things, I decided to approach 2015 with a broader perspective-- the Bigger Picture, if you will.

This year I want to be Happier with Myself.

This isn't some debbie-downer, "I hate myself" diatribe. Don't get me wrong-- I actually have a very high opinion of myself. Some might think its a little inflated but screw you.

But every single person can tell you there are things in their lives that they wish they could change and certain things that might make them happier. 

So.. here we go… Things I plan to change in 2015 to make me happier...

1) Don't talk shit about myself.

Due to a somewhat checkered past (which I will likely divulge more into in a later post)… I spent the majority of my young adulthood being very… I'm not really sure how to describe it. Very… still looking for the right word…. Self conscious? invisible? damaged?

I have since grown out of those qualities… something my mother wishes had never happened because I took the jump to the extreme. Lets just say this "change" is where I adopted my beloved biting sense of humor and lovable sarcasm. (please note the sarcasm… mom) I admit-- I can be a little harsh. Hence why being "nicer" is next on this list…

Anyway… the moral of the story is… if you think I'm mean to other people (mean in the most loving way possible in most cases) then you should see how mean I can be to myself. I am my own worst critic and since having a baby I have been pretty hard on myself. Which I have learned does NOT motivate me one bit.. hence, the resolution.

Every time I catch myself being self-critical I am going to remind myself of all of my (many) blessings and try to make those more important than my flaws. no matter how many there are…

2) Be Nicer.

Like I said, growing up wasn't easy for me. 

I was 6 feet tall at age 13. okay, maybe 14.  

I wasn't skinny. Never really have been. I have large hips and ass and small boobs. Its genetic, I know, but it wasn't really getting me lots of positive attention. I think it sparked more "man" jokes than anything--- Jo-man-na. still stings a little. 

I had awkwardly large eyes that weren't really proportional to my face for a long time. My nickname was Furby. And that damn furry creature still haunts me to this day. 

I had frizzy hair that was somewhere between wavy and curly and I had no clue what to do with it. Plus, my mom took us to Cost Cutters to get our hair done so I wasn't really getting any professional advice at that point. 

I was an athlete so I dressed down a lot.  

Basically.. I was a tom boy without ever wanting to be.
Somewhere deep down was a confident, girly girl but I never knew how to bring that out.

This is not an excuse. It is an explanation.
When I left for college I decided I didn't want to be these things anymore. I wanted to be pretty and I wanted boys to like me and I wanted people to really see me. Somehow that developed into my mostly funny, sometimes hurtful sense of humor.
I'm extremely sensitive so when I was teased growing up I would cry. Sometimes instantly. Sometimes to my mom when I got home. But over the years I learned that it hurt a whole hell of a lot less if I made fun of myself. So I did.
And then after a while I started making fun of other people-- but I truly meant it as a light-hearted joke. Over the years I admit some of those jokes weren't funny but mean and I regret that because I never mean to hurt anyone.
So in 2015 when I find myself stewing with sarcastic or caddy remarks -- I will count to 3 and remember that those words can hurt … even if they are meant light-heartedly.
Its a work in progress --- so don't go calling me out during one of my funny rants-- you'll throw off my vibe.

3) Wear Less Make-up.

If you know me, you know this is no joke.

Up until now, I have felt extremely uncomfortable going anywhere without make-up. 

I just have never been comfortable enough with my skin and my face, in general, to go out without at least a LITTLE assistance. I feel naked. I'd actually rather not wear a bra or underwear. In fact, I've gone without those things that MORE times than I've gone without make-up. TMI? my B.

But I realize now that I'm 26 years old. My skin is NEVER going to look better than it does now. So now is the time to make a change.

I plan to participate in #NoMakeUpMondays -- I just invented it.

Today is the first day. I plan to go to work (and wherever) on Monday with as LITTLE make-up as I feel comfortable with.

Today, for example, I am only wearing Tinted Moisturizer (Supergoop! CC Cream-- check it out! Its like skin crack!), Mascara, Brow Gel and Lip Gloss/Tint. 

That's Me! Without make-up. Sheesh.

It was a struggle leaving my house this morning-- admittedly 10 minutes late. I kept going back to my bathroom mirror and looking to see what else I needed but I had to keep stepping away. 

Put your hands above your head and back away!

I feel slightly liberated… and I admit it will cut about 20 minutes off my morning routine every Monday from now on… but I am not totally comfortable. I'm waiting for someone to ask me if I'm tired.

4) Be On Time.

Ok. This is really my fault but it is also genetic.

When I was younger my Dad was late for EVERYTHING. We used to tell him my after school program ended at 5-- and it actually ended at 5:30-- and I was STILL always the last kid to get picked up. No shade. I'm over it. But I promised that I would never be late because it was so annoying.

Anyways… for the majority of my young adulthood I adhered to my promise. In fact, I was actually early for almost everything -- which is good.

Somehow in my adulthood my mentality got twisted… unconsciously. I now have an altered sense of "time and space" where when I need to be somewhere at a certain time I never consider travel time. So, if I have to be at work at 9, then I feel confident in my ability to leave my house at 8:55am. Or if we have dinner at 7, don't be surprised if my ass is jumping in my car at 6:50 texting you to tell you I'm "halfway there!". Lies! All Lies!

And having a baby/child only exacerbates this issue ten-fold. Now, not only do I have to get myself ready and out the door-- I have to get a baby ready as well: changed, fed, clothed, in the car seat with a fully stocked baby bag. That adds another at LEAST 20 minutes to my routine. Hence why I am now 30 minutes late for everything.

So. From now on, I promise to be more respectful of my time and everyone else's and make attempts to be somewhere ON TIME. if not 5 minutes early. (As my old volleyball coach used to say, "If you're on time, you're late.")

5) Lastly, Do Something Every Day that makes me smile.

Ok. I can cheat on this one very easily but I promise to try not to. My baby alone makes me smile so I won't count her unlimited cuteness as this "Resolution"---

Instead, I plan to do something-- actually put effort into something each and every day that makes me smile.

This blog, for example, makes me smile because I love being able to express my thoughts and share my ideas with the world. Well, my world at least.

I also love saving money, pampering myself in some way (it could just be a mask at home or a quick toenail polish change), a good bath, some new jams on my iPhone, and sometimes-- a nice dose of retail therapy. Although, I promise to limit those retail therapy trips… You hear that, Husband?

I just think if I can go to bed at night knowing that I was genuinely happy-- even if just for a few minutes-- then I will know that day meant something and is one more step on my Happiness Journey.

Anyways, 

Thanks for listening. 

I promise to keep you all updated on my progress as the year goes on. 

I will likely have to come back to this post multiple times to remind myself of exactly what I promised to do but hopefully my loving friends, family and blog readers will hold me accountable. Just not TOO accountable, okay? I am human. Although I do have the hair of a goddess.

With Love, 

J.

2014: A Year in Review

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