Memories and Maps

This weekend my cousin and his family posted that they were at a restaurant.  The map showed up in my Facebook feed and it stopped me in my tracks.   They were a few miles from the accident site. 

After all these years, seeing the coordinates on the map still caused my heart to stop.  All I could think of was how close their beautiful family was to the site that shattered my family.  It was a Sunday midmorning.  They were out as a family.   I knew in the rational part of my brain that the similarities ended there--but my mind played the "WHAT IF" game.  And as if that wasn't torture enough for me, I started having flashbacks of the accident. 

I texted them to have safe travels home--I am sure that they probably knew why--all of my family knows where the accident happened.  

I spent the rest of the day telling myself that everything would be fine for them.  I knew that lightening doesn't strike twice in the same place so to speak.   In all honesty, I think it was just seeing the street name after all these years.  It isn't like I have forgotten-but sometimes the reminders just reach up and grab me.

The accident played through my mind for the better part of the day.  It took all of my concentration to focus on today, on the here and now.  I did but this time it was harder and I am not quite sure why.  I know that it is ok and I know that there are  some things will always be hard--perhaps I should just learn to expect the hard every once in a while.   

Growing Older

Many people in this world bemoan their birthdays.   Some pretend that they are turning 21 or an anniversary of some other lower number.   I must confess, I never really understood it-even before Robert died.  

Now however, it irritates the crap out if me.   In my mind you are lucky to be here to celebrate a birthday!  You have been given the gift of another day, week, month, year with your family and from where I sit, that is not to be squandered. 

Several weeks ago, Munchkin was on a kick of figuring out how old everyone was.  He was asking about years people were born in and doing the math of their birthdays for both 2013 and 2014.  It was cute-at least until he wanted to calculate how old Daddy would have been.   It was a sucker punch that I was unprepared for. 

Robert would have been 39. I should be well on my way to planning a BiG 4-0 party for him.  I should be having loads of fun ribbing him about his hair getting grayer. That's what we should be planning for this year.  

Instead, he will forever remain 33.  Frozen in time and denied those years with us.  He misses out on so much around here.  He never got to see munchkin write, or go to school, or sing, or navigate friendships.   He never got to see me with gray hair...although I have quite I bit that I swear showed up on the morning of the accident.   He isn't here to cheer on his boy in sports or academics or scouting or anything else.   He isn't here to cheer me on at all.  Nope, he didn't have he chance to celebrate another birthday.  

For the rest of the world that does have he joy of living another year, please don't pick me to complain to about it-quite frankly I don't want to hear it.   Please just be grateful for the one you have. Be thankful that you don't have my perspective.  I'm too busy trying to explain the inexicable to a child.   

Memories and remembering

My cousin is graciously putting together a family calendar for everyone.  One calendar with a page for each family that belongs to one of The TEN.  Yep, my dad is one of ten kids, you did read thy correctly.  

I procrastinated.  I didn't send her anything of our family (mom, dad, siblings, nieces and nephews).  I really dropped the ball. 

She posted a preview.  On our family page was a ton of pictures but smack dab in the middle was my wedding picture.   Robert and I smiling.   My heart swelled.  Here, in our family calendar without being asked to do so, she included him.   

I can't express how much that means to me.  There are so many times I feel like my marriage and my husband gets forgotten and yet, here is a reminder that other people around me do remember.  

I'm feeling so loved by such a simple gesture.  My heart is full and I am delighting in the fact that people besides me have sweet memories of Robert and of he two of us together.  

First World Problems...

My first encounter with something that was a "first world problem" came over a decade ago. 

Robert was working at Target.   He had been off with me for a few days as I had just had a miscarriage.  We were fairly early into our marriage and it was devastating for both of us.  

He went back to work to close, and I decided to bring him dinner on his break.   I was up front talking to some people when a person came to the return desk and chewed out this cashier because the top sheet and bottom sheet in a set didn't match exactly.  The cashier apologized for the inconvenience and gave her a refund.   She asked to speak with a manager, and the cashier paged Robert.   This lady proceeded to berate him and I jumped in.  I told her "Wow, if that is the biggest problem that you have in your life, you should be thankful!"  and I meant it. 

Fast forward several years, for a long time, I have not had the luxury of thinking about "first world problems".  I have been in a constant state of battle.   In the last week, I decided that I was going to have my house painted inside.  When I bought it a year ago, everything inside was beige and white, very boring, but not high on my priority list.  

I had a painter come in yesterday and offered to do it very reasonably.   He left me paint sample chips and told me to pick colors.   After about ten minutes, I was stressed, because there are 400,000 different shades of tan.  Seriously, so I made a tongue in cheek post on facebook about being stressed picking colors. 

In my mind, I was giving thanks for having the "problem" of picking paint colors.   I am so blessed beyond belief that my gratitude of having the "problem" of picking paint is the biggest pressing thing at the moment.  I am thankful that I have the perspective in my life to know that this really isn't a problem at all, but a luxury.   

In the end, I told him to pick a "tan" that is in stock so that we can just get the painting done!

Settling into a new routine...

Several months ago I took a new position.  This now allows me to work from home. It was a VERY scary step for me.  I left a decent paying job, for something a little unknown at the time.  All I knew was that my old job was making me so miserable and invading into our family time so much that SOMETHING needed to give.   After much prayer and asking God for guidance, I made the leap.   I worked an extra 6 weeks at my old job to give them the opportunity to find a replacement. 

I should not have waited so long!  Now, I have the privilege of walking Munchkin to and from school everyday and I get the opportunity to visit with other parents whose jobs allow them the same privilege.  This is an accommodation that I NEVER would have received at my old company.  I knew in my heart that Munchkin wasn't getting enough sleep, we were out the door before 7 am every morning and we frequently didn't get home until after 6:30-and he was asleep by 7:30.  We had nearly no time. 

Another byproduct of working at home, is that when he is sick, I don't have to scramble at 6 am and beg my parents or siblings to split a day off with me.   I knew this going in, but I didn't really realize how profound this was until recently.

This school year already we have had a bout of strep, a sinus infection and two asthma exacerbations...overall we are doing GREAT!  Then last week we had full blown bronchitis.  

Breathing treatments every 2-3 hours around the clock with several different meds to ensure that he could breathe...lots of whining and cuddling all night long because he plain didn't feel well.   Last fall, I still would have had to drag myself out of the house and go to work after the first day or two and I would have had to have left him with my mom, dad or sister or brother.  There was no way around it, I didn't have 75 vacation days a year to stay home every time he was sick.

This time it was different.  I have the luxury of working when I can and being measured on the results of my work, not the amount of time that I am in my chair in the office.

When I was at the pediatrician, he asked me if I needed a note for work.  It hit me, I no longer had to worry about whether I needed to file for FMLA.  I didn't have to calculate how many hours I could be in the office and when to make it not count as a vacation day.  I now have a boss that is compassionate and understanding and  actually understands that I am much more productive when I am not having to worry about the number of hours I am in my seat. 

I am beyond grateful to have that stress removed from our lives.   So grateful, I cannot even find the words to express it.   I am so grateful, that I think that I actually work harder knowing that they care about me and my family and that they have thus far shown me that with their actions.  I really don't feel like I am being given lip service about family/life balance, I truly believe that this is where I am meant to be.  

The Perfect Leaf

Halloween for us kicks of the sprint through the end of the year.   Life always goes more quickly than I would like, but now it kicks into warp speed!

This year is no different.  I find myself looking around at all the things that need to get done and I start calculating when I can do them and dig in.  I am ashamed to say that there are times that I plow through just to get done.   It isn't how I would like things to work, but sometimes, there are only so many hours in a day and I need to be doing in order to keep us up and running on all cylinders!

However, in spite of that, I find little reminders to slow down. 

Munchkin has been sick this week, so instead of trick or treating for hours, we did less than 10 houses of people we knew and then went and had dinner with my brother, his girlfriend, my sister and her husband.  It was a ton of fun.  Dinner was good and the company was even better.  I felt contented to be surrounded by my siblings and for the first time, the tears didn't creep in to steal my joy.  Not even when Munchkin carved his first pumpkin!  It was nice to sit and have dinner and have Munchkin rough house with his uncles and run around squealing at hide and seek on a sugar high. 

As Munchkin was rough housing with "guys" it was nice to just sit still for a few minutes!

Because Munchkin has food allergies, I have to check his candy to create a "safe pile".   As I sorted-and he generously was handing candy out to the grown ups around him, I found a leaf.  I looked at it quizzically and as I was about to toss it out--Munchkin said---Mommy can we keep it?  It was on the sidewalk and it was little and perfect so I rescued it from the rain. 

And you know what-it was a perfectly beautiful maple leaf.

So I kept it for him, and for me as a little reminder to slow down these next few weeks and look at everything around us!

I am so grateful for my little boy and all of the reminders and lessons that he brings be every step of the way!

Looking for Steady Ground

In a marriage, you have two people. Like a table there are four legs on the ground.  If one leg gets a little wobbly or looses its footing temporarily, there are three other legs to shoulder the load and an extra set of hands to help rearrange that 4 legged table into a three legged table.   That extra set of hands helps make sure that nothing important gets left by the wayside and that the load is balanced so that the table can keep on functioning like a table should.  

I miss my four legged table with an extra set of hands....a two legged table is more like an unsteady stack of Lincoln logs....take away one of the little bitty stacking pieces on one side-even for a minute and it is wobbly and threatens to topple.  Even if it doesn't topple, the load is unbalanced, messy and precariously perched.   You know, when everything goes nuts all at once, and you are standing there like, whoa, wait just a minute here, I am just one person being pulled in a million directions!

Dare I say that I am used to the unbalanced feeling of being stretched too thin? What I really miss is that other grown up in the house.  The one who would help me do everything and would tell me that everything will be ok.   Even something as simple as getting the dishes done or running to the grocery store could be handled with a divide and conquer approach which ultimately made us stronger.  Grocery store, check, laundry, check, dinner, check, clean house, check, homework, check, work done, check....and on and on.   When one of us was overloaded in some area, the other picked up the slack.   No, there is no one to pick up slack and some stuff falls aside.  

Even though my little Lincoln log tower is trusty and proven, I don't have all the answers.  I am constantly second guessing whether I am good enough, whether I am making the right choices.  I worry about being an only parent.  I worry about the stuff that gets left to the wayside.  

I know wishing to have a four legged table back is useless, so I will just have to find a way to work with what I do have....perhaps I can turn my Lincoln log tower into a cool bridge??? 

Sometimes the tears still sting

I heard a song tonight that I haven't heard in a long time.   It belongs in another chapter of my life,   At first I didn't recognize the actual song, I did however recognize the memory.   I was transported back to my living room back in Texas.   Robert and I used to dance and sing for no reason and for no occasion other than we were in love.  We had fun.  We were silly, we were goofy and we were in love.  We were so in love, there really aren't words to quantify the emotions. 

"Tell you a story, happened long time ago..." 

"Little bitty pretty one, I've been watching you grow!"

 

For a split second I closed my eyes and I could feel him.  Feel his cheek on mine, his hand on the small of my back and his other hand entwined in mine.  I could feel his breath on my neck as we sang together.   I could feel the vibration of the music and see the puppies dancing around our feet.   For a brief instant the memory was so vivid it was almost tangible.  I could smell him, hear his laugh.  I could feel him.  Then I opened my eyes and it was gone.   In a split second I snapped back to reality.   The world is now without Robert. 

So here I sit tonight remembering, listening to some of our songs.   The songs that were so integral to our marriage, to our life.   Songs that will forever be associated with US.
 

I sit here alone and the tears are barely held back.  Just barely.  They are hot stinging tears...every so often, one slips silently down my cheek and when Robert isn't here to wipe it away, it hits again and again that he is gone.  He is not here to hold me, to put his hand at the base of my neck and use his thumb to wipe my tears.  He isn't here to tell me he loves me.     I miss the comfort of his love and protection.   I miss the fun  we used to have.   

All I have is my memories, so I will sit with those awhile and know that tomorrow is a new day, and perhaps tomorrow's memory will bring a smile instead of a tear.  

Scott Simon's Journey Shared

This week something happened.  A man was sitting in ICU keeping his mother company as she died.  This happens every day around the world, but what was different this time was that the person was Scott Simon and since he is a journalist, he tweeted his story and people listened. (see his tweets here:  https://twitter.com/@nprscottsimon)  When I say people listened, I mean they LISTENED.  1.2 million twitter followers listened to him.  

Today, in the media, we have a discussion about death.  People are talking about how death and dying is something that is now out of the public eye and pretty much ignored.  It's true.  People don't talk about it.  Death happens.  The fact that we are talking is fantastic and quite frankly about time.   Two generations ago, people died at home.  They died in their communities and their communities took care of them.  The churches and schools, they KNEW when someone died and they reached out in comfort afterwards.  Today, our tolerance for the messy parts of life is as short as the news cycle.    My thoughts were exactly that it is about time we start talking about this and then we need to talk about what happens AFTER someone dies. 

For every person that dies, there are, husbands, wives, mothers, fathers, siblings, extended family and friends that are left behind.   When that person takes their last breath, the world for those of us left here changes FOREVER.  For some who did not know the person well, life moves on pretty quickly, and they stop talking about the person and they may even forget them.  They wonder why the wife or mother of their friend is still crying weeks or months or years later.  

For those closest to them, it is a CATASTROPHIC and SEISMIC shift in their lives.  Many of us live that every day.   In saying this, I do not mean that life is bad (although sometimes it is) I am saying that life is different.  That we go through everyday changed by love and loss.  Our grief permeates our lives and becomes a part of who we are.  We are the women who watched our husbands die.  We are the only parents.  We are the ones left behind. 

There are plenty of people out there that use twitter, Facebook and other communities to connect to others in their grief.  The fact that national media is entertaining a discussion on grief and grieving is due to the fact that Mr. Simon reached out and connected.  He is one of us. We connect after everyone has gone home, and after the rest of the world moves on. 

It has been five years since the car accident.   I still love Robert-I suspect that I always will.  I still miss him.  But my life is good.   I do good, I am good.   In that good, there is grief.  The cold grip that chokes me every so often and reminds me of what I lost and what happened.  It reminds me at the most inopportune times that bad things DO HAPPEN to GOOD people. 

I sincerely hope that we as a nation and as a world can start to talk about not only death and dying, but the aftermath.  The strength that people discover in themselves.  Maybe in talking, we will bring conversation back to people and connect again in person and learn that in fact, even though we go through tragedy, we do in fact go on to have a good life.  In the middle, the messy depths of grief, we need to know that feeling is temporary and perhaps Mr. Simon will continue to talk and to share. 

What a world...

The other evening, I took Munchkin to see Despicable Me 2.  We love going to the movies together even if I do have a small heart attack every time I go to pay!!!

He is old enough now where I let him pick our seats, and he usually picks the top row center.  Not a bad seat. 

As the previews played, there was a new preview, one that wasn't there ten days ago when we saw Monsters University. 

I don't remember the exact wording, but it had to do with locating your exits and how to leave in an emergency.   WOW.  My heart stopped.  I knew where it came from.  All of us grownups know about the shooting at the movie theater in Colorado.  The shooting at the Sandy Hook.  We know about the random terrible crap and evil that permeates our world today.   I am not quite sure WHY I was so shocked.   This is not news and really a reminder to look for your emergency exits is a good idea-but for some odd reason it made me feel sick.  

Perhaps it was because I know that all too soon, it won't be cool to go to the movies with your mom, he will want to go with his friends. That means, that I will have to let go of his hand and trust him to make good choices long before I am ready to do so.  I am quite comforted by the illusion that I can protect him, even if I know deep down that it is ONLY and illusion.

Perhaps it is because I know that life is precarious and precious and changes in a flash.  While sometimes those changes are positive, they are not always so.  Sometimes those changes are catastrophic and push us into unchartered territory where we can no longer keep our head above water with our some serious support.  I. KNOW. THIS.  I should not be shocked that other people with cool heads have decided that it is a good idea to get people to look at exit signs.  It is a good idea.

So I took a deep breath and reminded myself that bad things don't always happen, that there are good things in the world and maybe just maybe I can help my son hold onto the solace of the good things.  I can't erase the tragedy that we have endured, but I can bolster us with the good around us.   I can demonstrate to him that we laugh, we play, we act silly, we love and we enjoy life.  We do all of that IN SPITE of the evil and tragedy that abounds in this world because that is how I survive.  

Half

We had defined sides of the bed for sleeping.  I was always on the left side of the bed, he was always on the right.  It just was. 

It has been over five years since the day he died, however I still find myself on the left side of the bed.  I now have a smaller bed that has been in three different places in three different bedrooms and the result is still the same...I stay perched on my side, and his stays empty. 

Even though I know...it isn't HIS side, never was, he never slept in this bed, he never slept on these sheets, he never used these pillows or blankets.  Heck--he has never even stepped foot into my house.  I know this.   My brain knows it, I am pretty sure that my heart knows it.

At night, there is an icy chill that emanates from his side of MY bed.  It creeps over to me and just reminds me that I am alone.  That I don't have anyone to share my bed.  That Robert is gone, and not just gone, but he. is. dead.  He is never coming back and I will NEVER again spend a night nestled safe in his arms with my head on his chest.  Really this feeling of icy loneliness is getting very old. 

I have done everything that I can think to do.  I decorated my bedroom.  I selected a beach theme and enlisted my mom who is awesome at decorating to help me pull it together.  I have a beautiful painting, new sheets and comforter.  A really cool lamp and other accessories.  I selected my bedroom so that the light comes in and spills over the bed in the morning.  It is bright and warm and cozy.  But it hasn't helped.    The ice still fills the room in the dead of night. 

So I take a deep breath and I suck it up and I lay down and I go to sleep.   In the morning I awake and it is the same thing over again.   I am alone and there is no one in my bed besides me....well unless Munchkin is sick and has wandered into mommy's bed in the middle of the night, then I am usually awakened at a pre-dawn hour by a squirmy octopus in my bed.

Don't you know, kids grow extra limbs and flail them endlessly when they are in your bed, in their own beds--they sleep perfectly still and awake in the same position that you kissed them goodnight. 
So I kiss Munchkin good morning and look around and I say a prayer of thanks for all of the things that I do have and I hope that one day, this particular feeling fades to a distant memory. 

The Club No One Wants to Join-June Widowed Blog Hop

Each of us have a different circumstance and a different view.  Hopefully, if you are reading you can find some comfort and camaraderie in our words.

While everyone I have talked to has a different analogy for living life widowed, the one thing that we can all agree is that this is a club that no one is banging down the door to join!  Nope, not at all!  Who in their right mind chooses the utter heartbreak, the sobbing, the brokenness that comes from losing half of yourself?  The sleepless nights, where the icy cold from the sheets on the other side of the bed leach into your bones and make every fiber of your being aware that you are alone, really alone, like no adult in the house to call 911 if you had a heart attack alone.

Who chooses to raise kids, working through grief that are dealing with their own grief by themselves?  Who chooses to have to have tough conversations with very tiny humans about things that grown ups can't even comprehend?   Who chooses to be the odd man out?  To feel completely alone in a room full of people that all have their spouses or significant others?  That's right no one.  Zip, Zilch Nada!

What I can tell you, is that there are a great many people who have taken their circumstances and risen to a place of grace and beauty.  They learn that there is much more to life than the rat race.  That you really do need to stop and pause, because life is fleeting.   That there are men and women whom have walked this path before you and have come out on the other side of the chasm of tragedy and are OK.  They have a new chapter and they have happiness again.  They have not forgotten their loved one, but they have chosen to live and to love again.  

And do you know how they did it?  They functioned one minute at a time trudging through the heartbreak and tears.   Moving forward and turning the page takes time, and it takes work and it is different for everyone.  Don't measure your journey against anyone, just know that the journey gets easier.   Perhaps, by reading our words you can see that even though your pain is so deep that you can hardly breathe, that someday, maybe not tomorrow, but someday, you will take a deep breath and smile.  A true smile, one that will light you from within.

So grab a drink, coffee-perhaps something a little stronger, sit back and walk with us.  

Link to blog hop page....
http://samanthalightgallagher.wordpress.com/widowed-blog-hop/


Samantha of the Crazy Courage blog
Janine of One Breath At A Time
Red’s The M3 Blog
Christine of Widow Island
Tim’s Diary of a Widower
Running Forward: Abel Keogh’s Blog
Tamara of Artful Living After Loss
Jessica at Buttons to Beans
Missing Bobby: A Widow’s Journey
The Grief Toolbox
The Widow’s Mite: Encouragement for Widows
Widowed Yogi
Choosing Grace Today

Daddy's Toolbox

Ok, a vast majority of the useful tools (screwdrivers, wrenches, etc) were in the car with him when he died.   Some of them were returned to me.

See the morning after the accident (I think??-it may have been a few days later), two of our closest friends drove to where our cars were towed and retrieved our personal belongings.  They brought back what they thought they could save or clean to me in big black garbage bags.   While I witnessed the carnage as it happened, they went and touched the car and went to the accident site and walked around and found pieces of our life and brought them back to me.

I will be foreverr grateful that they had the fortitude and wherwithall to do it.   I know I did not.   I was too busy sitting on the floor of my living room rocking back and forth in tears.  It was all I could do to keep myself from either withering away or exploding into a rage.  I rocked and prayed.


I sat in my garage with my parents on either side and my sister with munchkin on her hip and I opened the bags and I sobbed, and sobbed and sobbed.  I couldn't breathe.  My parents cleaned what they could and sorted through things.   When I could breathe again I picked up pieces of things and started sobbing again. 

I remember picking up our duffle bag and seeing that the canvas was split open and that everything was soaked in blood and covered with the shattered glass.   I cried and cried.   As I touched his things, it was hitting me that he would never again have use for anything on earth including me.  That the morning that he kissed me last would be the last time I would ever feel his lips, his hands his breath.  It took my breath away and I collapsed into a heap on the floor of tears. 

I digress, one of the things they brought me were some of his tools. The ones that were not mangled beyond recognition, were covered in blood. 

Well, one of my brothers wiped off his tools and put the tool box on the work bench.

When I finally went back to Texas to retrieve our thigs, we brought his tools.   When we opened the tool box, it smelled of decomposition.  We cleaned and scrubbed everything.   I mean SCRUBBED!  I ended up having to throw away the plastic tool box.  We had soaked it in bleach, rubbed it with baking soda, used industrial cleaner, anything we could think of to make the smell go away.   My brother at one point took everything to his house and soaked them in somehting else in his garage.  

The end result was that the two other tool boxes that were not in the car now house his tools.   There are odds and ends in there.   Change for the vacuum at the car wash, bits of wire, connectors, evidence of the daily use he once had for his tools. 

Well, munchkin has taken an interest in Daddy's tools.  He has started opening the tool boxes to find things to help with.  I don't use them much at all, I use my little house kit I bought for myself....you know the pink one...quite girly I know.   But this morning as I was folding laundry, munchkin was going through the little tool box and pulling out things and asking me what they were. 

It hit me, things were right and wrong all at the same time.  They were right in the fact that my curious little boy had taken and interest in Daddy's tools. Wrong on so many levels that Robert is not here to show him and enjoy it with him.   My heart hurts with the knowledge that Robert would have relished in teaching Munchkin and helping him learn about the world around him.  My brain cannot get around the fact that it is up to me to do it.  

So I take a breath and say a prayer, put a smile on my face and give thanks that my father insisted that his girls learn the basics of tools. 

Dear Robert...

Dear Robert,
Today marks five years since that morning.  I still miss you, but more than that, I hope that you really can see us from Heaven.  I hope that you can see just how far we have come.  I hope that you know that even though I don't cry every day that I still love you and I still miss you.   

I hope that you can see how much you have shaped me as a person.  I am not the same young girl that you married, and I am not the same woman who buried you.  I have tried very hard to make sure that losing you did not make me old and bitter.   That losing you gave me the opportunity to acknowledge your love for me and for Munchkin.  

I look around myself and I still see pieces of you everywhere.  Today, they make me smile more than cry and I am glad that I did hold on to some of your things.   I have your piano, your trumpet.  In the back of my closet I have one of your bears sweatshirts...it is tattered, but it reminds me of you.  I sitll have "Conductor Bear" and your bottle of cologne  I can pick it out anywhere!   The other day I came across one of your written compositions of piano music.   It reminded me of all of the time that we had spent together in the studio. 

Well, I finally have a music room again, and Munchkin and I spend time together making music. 

Honestly, I didn't think that I would have come this far.  I hope that you can see all of my new friends and that you see the friends of ours who stood by my side and helped me.   Because, really at the beginning, there were days where it was almost insurmountable to put my feet on the floor and get out of bad, missing you hurt me that badly.   I think for many of our friends, it was too much for them to see me so broken. 

But many friends stood by me.  I had friends and family that were there.  They helped me see the light and to remember you when it was too hard to even bear.  Some kicked my butt when I needed it, some dried my tears and others just listened when I needed to talk about you.   For a long time, I felt that I was losing you over and over again daily.   Our friends helped me to see that was not the case. I hope that you can see them too!

My sister and my brothers, they miss you too.  More than they talk about.   I know that they do.  Munchkin peppers them and me with questions about you.  It is sweet to see how they answer him.  Mom and Dad miss you too.    They worry about me and about Munchkin but I think that they finally believe that we will be ok. 

Oh, and our baby boy, he isn't so much a baby anymore.  He is a vibrant happy boy.  We play baseball, ride bikes and play catch.  I think of you, and I hope you can see us being happy.  Really, more than anything, I hope you see us happy.  I hope you know that happiness is possible again only because I know that you loved me so completely.  I know that you would want me to be happy.  I know that it broke your heart anytime I would cry, so to honor your memory I look for and seek out the happiness. 

I try and teach that to Munchkin as well.   I hope you can see what a good heart he has and how hard he works at everything that he does.   He does many things that you used to do.   He uses many of your hand gestures and definitely has your daredevil sense of adventure!  (He does however have my sarcasm and quick wit!) 

What I really hope that you know is that you are a part of me and you always will be.  I was changed because of losing you, but my biggest blessings and changes have come from knowing you and being your wife.  

Love Always,
Your IrishPrincess

Conversations and Memories

Yesterday was a crazy day...Munchkin had a tournament that went all day...he did awesome and cheered on his friends who also did VERY well.  Late in the afternoon, the parents decided we would all go out for some dinner.  The kids all entertained each other.  They are really great friends, and the grown ups sat around talking.  It was nice and simple.

For one of the first times, I did not feel out of place at all.  My widowed-ness didn't burn through my body.  I actually sat back and enjoyed myself.  We swapped stories of wild climbing boys...discussed parenting and laughed that all of our kids do just about the same stuff!

At one point the conversation drifted-the question came up-WHAT is the best year of your life?  Hmmmm....well one couple said the decade they are in now.   A father said his 30's...his kids were here, a little younger and he had more time. 

My answer was most of the year I turned 30.  Munchkin was born a few weeks after my 30th birthday.  The following ten months, although wrought with struggles, were bliss.  We were a family, there was three of us.  Even though Robert had MAJOR back surgery when munchkin was 3 months old, and it was hard.  When I say hard...I mean HARD.  He couldn't take care of himself, and there was no way he could take care of Munchkin either.  He had virtually no mobility in his back brace.  I ended up taking a leave of absence to care for him when he got home.  We spent months together, just the three of us.  We figured it out and it was great.

My sister got married that year and in retrospect, it was the LAST time that my family was all together in one place.   We literally didn't know until the day before whether Robert was going to be able to fly with us-by the Grace of God he was able to go.  We had a fantastic time.

Now, even though there were great things that happened, the year I was 30, I was also widowed.  I watched Robert die in front of my and my life has been forever changed. 

So in the span of less than twelve short months, my son was placed into my arms, and Robert left this earth.

If someone had told me even 2 days before the accident that Robert would die-I would not have changed one thing about how we spent our time.  That was the year that I really learned to be present and to enjoy what was in front of me.  I think that is what set that year apart for me.   The majority of the year was so memorable, because I was busy taking in the joy of being a mother and being a family of three that I decided to let everything else fall away. 

Soft Smiles

The other day, Munchkin and I got in the car after sledding.   When I turned the key, the song hit me...

I'll be your dream
I'll be your wish I'll be your fantasy
I'll be your hope I'll be your love
Be everything that you need
I'll love you more with every breath
Truly, madly, deeply do
I will be strong I will be faithful
'cause I'm counting on
A new beginning
A reason for living
A deeper meaning, yeah

Wow, what a slap in the face.  I was immediately transported back to one of our dates.  It was a snowy day and we were down at the Naperville River Walk.  We had been walking hand in hand admiring the snow.  Robert had picked up a snowball and thrown it into the river.  All of the geese dove for it thinking it was food and we just laughed and laughed at that. 

When we got in his truck, this song was on and he started to serenade me.   This became one of our songs. 

As I let a soft smile spread across my lips, the second verse came on.

And when the stars are shining
brightly in the velvet sky,
I'll make a wish send it to heaven
Then make you want to cry
The tears of joy for all the
pleasure and the certainty
That we're surrounded by the
comfort and protection of
The highest powers
In lonely hours
The tears devour you

I could not help myself.  It was as if I was hearing that verse clearly for the very first time.   I silent tear slid down my cheek.   Who would have known that 16 years later that those words would ring so true for us and for our love.  "I'll make a wish send it to heaven then make you want to cry"  "That we're surrounded by the comfort and protection of the highest powers, in lonely hours, the tears devour you".   I never would have imagined that snowy day 16 years ago, that I would listen to this same song 16 years later and have it touch my heart so poignantly.  

Munchkin who had not yet buckled his seat belt, leaned forward.
"Mommy, you have water on your cheek!" He said as he wiped away my tear. 
"Mommy, that isn't water, why are you crying?"

I told him that I missed Daddy.  His answer, "Mommy, just forget about him, he loves us from Heaven!"
Wow, such simple words and so simply put.   A few years ago, this would have torn through my heart.  Today, however, I can see that Munchkin simply wanted me to be happy, to be present with him instead of stuck in the longing of what we have lost.   Today, I can hear him loud and clear and understand his desire.   I am grateful that I can see his perspective and even more grateful that I want the same thing.   I want to be present for him.  I want to be here for my child and I want to be happy.   I know that it won't change how much I miss Robert, it won't change any of the facts, that he is gone, that he died.   What it does change is ME.  My choice, my perspective, my attitude.  

And back to the song....

 

Oh can you see it baby?
You don't have to close your eyes
'Cause it's standing right
before you
All that you need will surely come

Sometimes the words of a child and simple lyrics of a song can mean just what your heart needs to hear.  

**All Lyrics are from "Truly, Madly, Deeply"  by Savage Garden, they retain their original copyrights***

Perfect Moment Monday-SNOWBALLS

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Perfect Moment Monday is about noticing a perfect moment rather than creating one. Perfect moments can be momentous or ordinary or somewhere in between.
On the last Monday of each month we engage in mindfulness about something that is right with our world. Everyone is welcome to join.


http://www.blogher.com/frame.php?url=http://LavenderLuz.com

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This month we have had actual snow! Inches of it.  Now a little background, I lived in Texas for nearly ten years and I whined and moaned and groaned every winter that I missed snow and seasons!
Therefore, I do not complain of snow.  In the past four years, it has become somewhat of a joke in my family because Texas has had more snow than we have had!  We even had a record number of days without snow here in Chicago. 

Well a week or so ago, we got about 6 inches of snow. We were not going to miss the opportunity to enjoy the cold white stuff.   While I was outside shoveling, Munchkin was feeling well enough to come out and help me.   Well, his "helping" turned into the two of us playing.  I decided it was more fun and far more important to play with him-he will be grown soon enough and not wanting to play with Mommy!

For 20 minutes, it was glorious.  I showed him how to make snowballs, and we threw them at each other.  Laughing, and running around, Munchkin was all smiles.   We then built a mini "sled hill" and he had great fun "sledding" down it.

It was absolutely priceless to be able to just stop and throw snowballs.  To listen to his laughter and just generally have fun with Munchkin!  When we were cold, we went inside and made some hot cocoa-topped with whipped cream.   Sometimes, the best moments are those that just happen.   I hope that as Munchkin grows older, he finds joy in the memories that we make together.  

Battle scars

Sometimes the biggest battle scars cannot been seen from the outside. Really, if you were to encounter someone without visible scars, would you know by looking at them, that their life had been ripped apart? That they carry wounds of the heart and soul? Wounds that cut to the very core of their being? That they had survived horror that usually is found only in nightmare? Hmm...nope...

But, battle scars are exactly what they are. Several months ago, I was struggling, a lot, having flashbacks of the accident, nightmare again. When I spoke to a very dear friend of mine (who also happens to be widowed and a licensed therapist) he had some really great thoughts.

He said that sometimes, you have to acknowledge the scars that no one else can see. It can help to "touch" and explore them and then acknowledge to yourself that yes, that was really bad, and damn, that scar still hurts. Most importantly that it is ok to do this, especially when these scars and wounds are fighting for attention in our minds.

At the time, it didn't make a whole lot of sense to me, I mean really...they are not scars, I walked away from the accident without a physical scratch. Perhaps it has taken me almost five years to admit that I have scars, that I do indeed suffer from battle wounds. Perhaps now, that I have acknowledged the wounds, and really taken some time to explore them, perhaps, now they can heal?

I pray often for strength and for endurance, I don't know at I have ever asked God to heal my heart. I have often relied on the scriptures that promise that God will care for the widows and fatherless children. I have given many of my struggles to Him. At times I feel that there is a purpose in this, perhaps I am meant to share those scars so that others can see that it is possible to persevere? In all honesty that is why I started writing here, In 2008 I was blessed to engage with some widows who were farther along than me...I could see that they were OK-they were surviving and some of them were thriving. Perhaps, by showing my battle scars some of you can see it is possible to be OK?

in the quiet

Sometimes it is just too quiet.  The silence around me makes the thoughts in my heart deafening.  Usually resulting in tears.  Not the silent dripping down my cheeks tears-but the messy sobbing pain of a broken heart. 

Now, thankfully, these episodes are not daily anymore, not weekly or even any predictable regularity.  I am grateful for that. 

I don't think that the pain has lessened from losing Robert.  I think that I have just become used to the void.  Used to the scars, the empty feeling.  I have chosen not to give my brokenness power over the rest of my life.   I am glad that I have made that choice.  That for the most part I can be in the present moment and enjoying time with Munchkin or completing tasks at hand.  

There are times however, where a memory will reach up and slap me.  At those times, I cannot help but to feel my broken heart.  To feel the pain of losing him.  It is crushing, it is earth shattering and it is horribly unfair.  Those are the times that generally result in the sobbing previously mentioned. 

I have a favorite quote: "Take PRIDE in how far you have come, and FAITH in how far you can go"

I try and force myself to take a step back and realize that even though at that moment, I feel horrible-that I really have come very far.  I am not crying 24/7.  I am no longer paralyzed by memories-and at times I can even enjoy sweet memories.  Nightmares and flashbacks of the accident are no longer constant...and dare I say have faded to few and far between.  So yes, I have come very far in the past few years, so I just have to remember that as bad as it feels at that moment, that it will get better...it has gotten better over time and that it will be OK!

Knowledge

Munchkin is five. In my mind, that means his world should be consumed by Legos, dirt, laughter and adventure. My wish has always been for him to be a happy healthy child. In fact, that is my prayer to God every day.

In reality, he understands things that he should not have to. Things like death, and heaven and angels. He understands these things so well, that when a teacher in preschool told him that he was an angel-he burst into tears! He told her he didn't want to be an angel because he didn't want to be dead.

The fact that he can make these connections, well it just plain astounds me, In the next breath, it makes me sad. I cannot control the world around us, and I cannot protect him from knowledge that he shouldn't have at his age, I am fairly certain that none of his peers know what death is, the may have a fuzzy concept of heaven from church but they positively have not lost a parent.

As I navigate our reality and explain things to him on his level...it breaks my heart that we even have to have these discussions. I answer his questions when he asks, openly and honestly while at the same time, asking God to comfort both of us.

Because really, how do you help your child understand the inexplicable challenges that the world has thrown at us, when you as an adult can barely grasp them?