Christmas Time of Year

This is the season "to be jolly," this is the season "to be merry," this is the season of "happy holidays." None of these apply this year because this is the "Christmas Time of Year" for the very first time in 38 years without Roy. It will never be the same "time of year," ever again in my life, our lives. I am mindful that it is also a time to "count your blessings," and I am glad of the many blessings I do have to "count," and I do count them again, as always, and especially so at this "Christmas Time of Year". A very wise friend wrote "I have no words to comfort you." I totally agree. -Jeanne

Getting through it

I was watching some stupid television program the other night and learned a lesson. It's one of those lessons I already learned or knew I'd learn eventually but had to be reminded of...apparently through a stupid television program. The program I was watching is about real life people, not actors, but it's not a reality television program. The program focuses on really poor, challenged neighborhoods around the country and one highlighted a neighborhood where there is a lot of gang violence. There is a church group there, where women who have lost loved ones to violence gather to talk, to listen, to grieve. One of the women had lost her 26 year old son 3 weeks earlier and had been unable to open up about it. She said something like this: "I'm afraid that if I open up about it, if I get through it, then it will mean it's real, and I'm so afraid of it being real."

I think I've been afraid of getting through this since it happened, as each day that passes moves me away from when Dad was alive. Getting through it (meaning it's no longer ok to sob in public at inappropriate times as it was when it first happened, you know, "ok" meaning normal) is an on-going process, one that doesn't have an end that would be classified as "getting over it." But getting through it is what we've all been doing, because we all lost him together, at once, in a finality that I despise. We get through it just because time passes and we still wake up each day. On the days I don't want to get out of bed it's mostly because I don't want time to quicken the distance between when Dad was alive and now.

I'm afraid to get through it and the holidays are another reminder that I will. The first time Dad's birthday passed without him, the first Thanksgiving, and the quickly-approaching first Christmas, are all going to pass and we're going to get through them. And that stinks.

-Aimee

Wisdom at 4

We got together for Dad's birthday in Florida. This was also an early birthday celebration for Natalie, who was to turn four on December 2. So, the morning of Dad's birthday, November 18th, Michelle said to Natalie, "Today is Blue Eyed Grandpa's birthday." Natalie replied, "But he doesn't need those anymore."

Sad and sweet at the same time, Natalie has kept a lot of the loss of Dad in perspective, reminding us all to keep living and of the many ways she brought him joy. If he heard Natalie say that, he was certainly laughing and in agreement.

Our grief is soul deep. His memory is to keep...in our hearts, minds and prayers, as always...especially so on November 18, 2008.

Monarchs

I believe in the divine force between all of us, us meaning creatures and the earth and the universe. All of these serve as reminders; the reminders whisper and scream that we are not all that important or significant in size or matter, but they also holler and sing out that we are very influential and connected.

While I don't believe in the same forces governing all of this that Dad believed in, I keep coming across monarch butterflies. Or maybe they come across me. In the past month, I've seen more monarchs than I had seen in the past ten years. Perhaps there is scientific reason for this, but some of the monarchs have been painted onto wood or created out of metal. They have shown up:

• At the hospital, in the parking lot, when I didn't know which way Dad would turn.


• Along my running path in the woods this summer in Vermont.


• On the Jersey shore, from the deck, on one of the happiest days of my life.


• At a highway rest stop in Atlanta this month, on my way to a fantastic musical event.


• A parking lot in Asheville, NC: the mural on the wall of the business that bordered a parking lot we happened to park in because there were no free street spots: painted monarchs.


• On my walk to a job interview yesterday in Attleboro, MA, on a fence, made out of metal (in the photo above).

While I'm not sure where humans go when they die, I see that the connections we make while alive survive death, especially the way we have touched our loved ones. Now, I'm not sure any sane deity would give each life passed the ability to directly send signs. I'd guess Dad's funny choice would be to send a moose to many random places, but that would be too obvious. Perhaps because Roy means King and Dad thought Monarch was as close as he could come, these butterflies make sense. No matter the facts behind it, whenever I see a monarch butterfly, the coincidence reminds me of the way life moves along, from the dead to the living. They remind me to smile at Dad, because even if no such place as the afterlife exists, his life still exists in me. It's as plain as the nose on my face.

Johnny Cash on Elvis

I would have shared this with Dad and he would have laughed and had some commentary about why Cash would spoof Elvis. We'd talk about the film "Ring of Fire" and how it implies Elvis turned Cash onto drugs. We'd talk about who was a better man, but in the end we wouldn't decide who was a better musician, I'd guess.

http://www.cnn.com/video/#/video/showbiz/2008/10/10/vo.cash.does.elvis.sonyBMG

Blue Eyed Grandpa

As you all witnessed, Dad was especially lit up whenever his first and only grandchild was around. From the first moment he glimpsed her, he was hooked. Insisting that she got her blue eyes from him, Natalie naturally came to name him her Blue Eyed Grandpa.

Gardens

When we were little, we had a garden next to the house. The only two things I remember growing there were green beans and rhubarb. This is a photo of us picking beans with Dad. His love of food is something we all get to carry with us. His fudge, his sauce, his subtle insistence that I make pie each holiday, his way of getting us to go out to eat as often as possible, and his appreciation of food and drink... we get to have that always. What a blessing.

-Aimee

Dad, James, Mom, June 2007

Guest book

Guest Book for Roy E. Pelletier


June 4, 2008
My love to all the Pelletiers and especially JC. He is missed.

Candi (Boston, MA)

May 27, 2008
I wish to thank all of the people that were so genuinely kind to us during this sad time. My family and I appreciate all the cards, calls, visits, remembrances and tributes that we have received. They will not be forgotten. Jeanne C. Pelletier (Wife)

Jeanne C. Pelletier (Bantam, CT)

May 22, 2008
Jeanne, Ronnie, Larry, Judy, Peter, Roy's children and family:Our Prayes and sympathies go out to you.

Toni and Joe Kowalec (Bantam, CT)

May 21, 2008
All my Sympathy to Roy's Family, he was a great school friend in our younger days at Fort Kent Community High School. He was always so quiet and friend to all.

Carol Pelletier (ST. Francis, ME) Contact me

May 21, 2008
Thanks to everyone who has supported the family at this time. All of your love has helped in this time and dad's strength carries us forward.

Michelle Pelletier (Vancouver, WA)

May 19, 2008
Jeanne and family We were very sad to hear Roy had passed away. I wish we could have gone down but, Uncle Alva is not feeling good enough. I will miss his e-mails. May God bless you all..

Nadine Jandreau (St. Francis, ME)

May 19, 2008
Uncle Roy will be greatly missed but I will always have fond memories of when we stayed with him, Aunt Jeanne and the kids as well as when they would come up to Allagash and stay with us!!!!

Kim Reeves (Dallas, TX)

May 17, 2008
We would like to thank everyone for their love and support. Dad would be very happy to know that his family has been cared for during this time and that he is being honored with such easy devotion. -Aimee (Roy's daughter)

Aimee Pelletier (Astoria, NY)

Eulogy for Roy E. Pelletier, given by his children in order of birth

Michelle B. Pelletier:

Dad was proud of his children and let us know that in his actions and love more than his words. He taught us how to shrug off the unimportant things in life and focus on the things that matter, like family. He taught us integrity, morality and most importantly how to laugh at life – its ups and downs and the very irony of life.

I take these qualities with me in my life and pass them to my own child, Natalie, who lit my father's very soul. I know he is with us every day in our hearts and minds and as I look at my child's blue eyes, I look at my father's eyes and smile.

Aimee T. Pelletier:

{Daddy, I sang to you the other day and I have no idea if you heard me. I sang to you because I knew it would matter if you could hear me; I knew it would matter even if you could not hear me. You and Mom taught me, each in your own way, to do the things that might matter, without concern for looking silly, and especially if I might make someone smile in the process. So here goes…}

When I was still small enough for his shoulders to take it, Dad would hoist me up so that I might be able to catch a glimpse of what the world was like from up there. This usually took place on special occasions having to do with bright lights and loud music. I saw Johnny Cash in black and watched fiddlers working magic with the fury of bluegrass fingerwork. And I could feel Dad’s bounce to the rhythm of the lives around us, keeping time with the soundtrack of ferris wheels and merry-go-rounds. From up there, I felt, rather than my usual shy self, confident and curious.

Dad would hold me on his shoulders after he’d held my big sister and before he’d hold my little brother. He sometimes grew tired. Even when he let on, though, that he couldn’t carry us any longer, I am sure that he was far more exhausted than we ever knew. Dad told jokes to cover up that he was sometimes sad and he sang slow songs to remember happy times. I’m not saying that Dad hid his feelings; he just revealed them selectively and creatively.

For example, my meat and potatoes father simply stared at me when, at 17, I announced that I was going to become a vegetarian. I think it must have sunk in that this wasn’t a fad…perhaps after about ten years or so, when he told me, quite proudly, that his favorite sandwich at his favorite sandwich shop was in fact the vegetarian option. Dad didn’t come out and say I love you for who you are, he just did it.

When I think of Dad now, I think of the incredible view that he gave to me while I was perched on his shoulders, the safest and proudest place I could be.

James M. Pelletier:

This isn’t about perfect words; this is about being genuine. I have a feeling that is how Dad would see it. It doesn’t matter if you’re not perfect. It doesn’t matter if you’re best. What matters is what you make of it. Did you get where you’re supposed to go? Did you do it with everyone’s best interests at heart?

I recently found a letter I wrote to my father ten years ago. I let him know that I wanted more, that I wanted to do my best for every good reason I had. I let him know that his encouragement and example made long days of work seem less difficult. Sticking by someone you care about on their worst day is just a worthwhile as sticking by them on their best, if not more worth it, because giving them that encouragement and acceptance won’t be forgotten so easily; it will resurface again and again, especially when it’s needed.

The value of truly giving yourself everyday can never be underestimated. Sometimes it takes the genius of a well-timed joke or an outpouring of music-inspired joy and dance.

Give freely and give often, give to others what comes easily but also what takes great effort.

Remembering Dad

We started this blog because we feel it's important to remember someone actively. Yes, this could be done off-line, at reunions, when you're alone with your thoughts...but this blog provides a place to go that isn't just a guestbook, a place that allows others the opportunity to share stories and memories when we would not otherwise have the chance (being that the Pelletiers live all over the country).

Much love,
The Pelletiers