Silver lining gilds edges of sad trip home

Good and bad.

Of course, the good trips are always more fun than the times I have to go home for sad occasions. But for some reason, even those trips turn out to have some fun filtered through the sorrow. When my grandparents died it was sad, but I still remember laughing and reminiscing about their lives, which turned sadness into celebration.

I was told last week that my 52-year-old father is sick -- and that it was time for me to visit.

It was a long flight home, and the weekend was emotional, but the silver lining of the trip came through in the form of humor and comfort on more than one occasion.

My little nephew (you will remember, based on my husband's Christmas review column, that he's the small-dog torturer) is proud that he now knows how to use the bathroom like a big boy.

At one point, rebel child Joey was outside the farmhouse, where my brother lives, playing in the mud. Wearing his cool John Deere Johnny Popper cowboy boots, he dropped his drawers and decided to ... (you can figure out the rest). Anyway, next thing you know, he's screaming for Mama because he has sank -- literally to almost the top of his Johnny Poppers -- in the mud.

That will teach him a lesson on trying to pee like a mountain man!

I couldn't help but laugh when I walked into a local restaurant, expecting to meet my sister-in-law, to hear the word "surprise" by a huge group of family and friends.

My family will never resists a chance to throw a party -- even though it was 6 weeks after my real birthday and I was home to see my sick father (In fairness to my family, the party was planned months earlier).

Last month, I had a small birthday celebration with some girlfriends (a couple weeks after my actual birthday) and someone made the comment about my birthday being the longest celebration of a birthday in the history of birthdays.

I'm afraid to tell her about last weekend's surprise party!

I also managed to work in a long run during my stay -- just for old times sake.

My former marathon running coach/partner and aunt extraordinaire Marjie and I ran almost seven miles together, just as we used to do. I think the run through the city streets of my old stomping grounds -- in the midst of heavy snow fall -- was more therapeutic than a two-week session with Dr. Phil.

No trip home goes without food, and this time around, in trying to capture every second of quality time with my family as possible, I got comfort food at its best. If it wasn't fall-off-the-bone tender ribs made by the best Yankee barbecue master I know (my brother), it was a turkey dinner fit for a king made by my mother.

Saying goodbye is never easy. And even though I know I'll be making several trips home during the upcoming months, this goodbye was one of the hardest I can recall.

My 1-year-old Godson, Gabriel -- my rebel nephew's little brother -- said one of his first words.

"Sadie."

I've received calls since my return to Tennessee that he's still calling my name, and if that's not heartbreaking, I don't know what is -- except perhaps cancer.

It was a tough weekend home, but love, laughter and "time" made it bearable -- even enjoyable to some degree.

And there's nothing that can deliver that like family.

-- Sadie Fowler is lifestyles editor at the Times-Gazette. Her column, Sadie Says, runs every Sunday. She may be reached at sfowler@t-g.com or 684-1200 ext. 214.