Happy Heart

Robert LOVED woodworking.  He learned from his grandfather and used to tell me how sad he was when his grandfather died.  One of his early memories was putting a thing that he made into the coffin at his funeral and then seeing the funeral director remove it and throw it away (he did go rescue it from the trash at the tender age of 6). 

Given his love—I had kept most of his woodworking tools—the power newer ones and the hand tools (mostly his grandfather’s) that he used.  

Munchkin is 8—and wanted to build his own pinewood derby car.  I decided that it was the right time to pull out the tools. 

I hauled the big bins out to the garage—and we looked at what he had.  Munchkin had drawn the model for his car and then carefully marked the cuts. I only had one minor issue that I needed to call my brother to figure out—but other than that everything is still in working order!

Munchkin is big enough to reach the work bench.  I used the scroll saw to make the big cuts and Munchkin carefully and meticulously used the hand tools to shape and sand his car.    He has earned his whittling chip in Scouts so he knows how to safely use tools and cut away from himself.  I was relegated to a space outside of his safety circle. 

I stood there and watched him.  He was careful and smiley and did things the way that he wanted to do them.  He carefully touched the wood to ensure that it was smooth enough and sanded away any rough spots his little finger found.   As I watched, I realized that the connection to Robert is starting to come full circle.  That even though he wasn’t here to teach Munchkin himself, by using his tools and answering his questions, that was connection between them.

It is nearly eight years since the accident, and Munchkin was a baby-so it sometimes hurts my heart on all that they missed together.  Today—instead of hurt, I was able to see the joy of a young boy using his father’s tools.  That joy—that joy makes my heart happy.  

Friends

Right after Robert died, I lost a lot of our common friends.  I know this isn't something that I only went through, but seems to be a common thing with people who have gone through loss.   I mourned Robert and then I mourned the loss of people who were staples in our lives for years.   Some of these people who disappeared, I know that the did it for their own self preservation...I am a reminder that bad things happen.  At the time, I didn't get that.  I do now, although for me it was hard fought understanding.  

Don't get me wrong, not everyone left.  Some came from the shadows and took bigger roles and my Best Friend and her entire family filled along with my entire family filled out our needs.  I have written many times on how grateful I am for my family.  This is something different.  Something more subtle, that I didn't quite notice at first. 

Time has given me perspective that I did not see right away.   In my effort to get up everyday and function and rebuild a life for myself and preserve and defend childhood for Munchkin, people have come in droves.   Many were curious--how did he die?  how did you live?  I learned to deal with those people with a silent grace.  I politely answered questions and moved on.   At first it seemed like I did a lot of that.  Answer and move forward.  After time, I realized I didn't have to answer.  

There are new people.  People that I didn't know, many who never knew Robert. 

They have carefully planted themselves in our lives and are sticking around.   The ones who call or text just to say hi.  The ones who are really getting to know us.  Some of them have kids around Munchkin's age, other's don't. 

Some began as Robert's friends and have found their way into my inner circle.  They help me keep his memory alive and talk about him often.  Some of them even share stores with Munchkin.   Those that knew me before and after---they are special.   But this isn't really about them.  

This is about the unexpected friends---the ones that have made themselves more like family, and when they say you can count on them--they mean it. 

Our Taekwondo family is amazing....so many of the parents and instructors---I cannot even begin to describe my gratitude for everything that they have given us.  From providing fantastic non-family male role models, to teaching Munchkin qualities of character.  They are there---they are there when he or I am sick and if we need anything, there are many of them that are a text away.  

One of these Taekwondo instructors has become one of my closest friends.  She is there to laugh, cry, hang out or whatever.  With or without kids.   She steps up and listens and she is just an amazing woman.  She loves my Munchkin as one of her own and we get along very well...it is hard to imagine that I have only known her a few years--our friendship is natural and easy and I am grateful. 

There is another woman---one who over time has shown that we have very similar values and attitudes toward a lot of things.  She is sweet, kind and funny and I could not love her three boys more.   Our son's get along well and she is just such a positive calming influence.  I treasure her friendship.  

There are so many more...but the common theme here is that I would not have connected with these people if my life hadn't taken such a drastic turn.   Time has given me the ability to find *my friends* instead of our friends. 

So for those friends both old and new--thank you for being a part of our life. 

Top Ten Experiences of Being Widowed

Six years ago, I could not see the light of day.  I could not fathom that I could accomplish anything by myself.  I depended on my family for a sounding board for EVERY little decision that had to be made.  Seriously, I was paralyzed in my grief and I put up with a lot from the world around me that I should not have. 

I have learned and grown over time, but honestly there are some things that still suck.  So being the positive person that I am-here are 10 things that I have learned in the last 6 years. (Yep, a little tongue in cheek here, but bear with me.)

 

10. You get to care for your house all yourself--in addition to a "girly" master bedroom that you don't have to compromise on, you also get all of the bills, repairs and manual labor that goes with a house

9. Eat whatever you want--just know that you are usually doing it alone

8. Parenting choices are not up for debate-piano lessons--done, not playing tackle football--done and done, however, know that you are on the sidelines by yourself amongst other traditional family units and it is isolating and suffocating all at once

7. No one steals the covers in the middle of the night--but there also isn't anyone else to check out the noises in the middle of the night, or change batteries on smoke alarms that go haywire, or shovel the snow "one last time" before bed.

6. Sleep in as late as you wish--as long as you are up before the kiddos and dog, because there is no one else to corral them into something more useful than making "squirrel soup" in the kitchen while you snooze (seriously, don't ask...it's far worse than it sounds, I promise!)

5. Schedule parent teacher conferences to accommodate only one schedule--although there isn't another person to help you remain sane while dealing with a bureaucratic system that is failing your child (and the majority of kids in that classroom) I strongly suggest calming techniques that don't look passive aggressive, don't cross your arms or clench your jaw...let me know if you find something useful!

4. Your brothers step up and do things with you and your kiddo--but then they get mistaken for your husband--AKWARD!

3. Vacation wherever you want-provided that you can afford it on one salary and it takes you to a place that feels "safe" for a woman and child by themselves, and that you can schlep all of the luggage that you need by yourself and still manage to keep a free hand to hold onto your small child because the thought of letting go of the hand of a five year old in an airport is enough to make your heart stop!

2. Pick the redbox movies, DVR settings and shows to watch all on your own-all the time-know that death/dying/visits from the grave are very "en vogue" right now and will remind you that life is not fair 

1.  You don't have to share cuddle or movie time with your kiddo-but know that there is a big void where there once was three and now there are two. It is an icy elephant in the room that you and your kiddo both feel at times

 

Ok, maybe most of these things aren't so great---but hey, we all have to try and find the positive at times right? What I can tell you is that even though it is horribly unfair and lonely to walk this path alone, there are bright spots--you just have to focus on finding them and hold on to them for dear life.
- See more at: http://www.chicagolandwidowed.org/blog/top-ten-experiences-being-widowed-monday-june-23-2014#sthash.iaRo4v0v.dpuf

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.   

Mommy What is a Coffin?

Munchkin is inquisitive.  That is putting it nicely.  He asks a million questions a day.   This morning we were driving to go let my brother's dog out while he is out of town and we spotted someone packing away Halloween Decorations. 

This prompted a series of questions...

Munchkin: Mommy, what's a coffin?
Me: It is something that you put someone in after they die.
Munchkin: Did you have to put daddy in a coffin?
Me: Yes baby.
Munchkin:  I don't think he would have liked that.
Me: Probably not.
Munchkin: What did Daddy's coffin look like?
Me: It was silver with blue lining
Munchkin: Oh, Well Count Dracula's was black with red inside.  Red is my favorite color. 


See while Munchkin has asked his questions in passing and has now moved on to putting together a lego set,  my brain is now trying to force back the memories that I have tucked away. Some memories  are just too much to bear and entirely too painful to keep remembering.   

The memories of walking into a funeral home and telling the person that I needed to make arrangements for my husband.  

The chaos that followed that I am not even prepared to write about, and I don't know if I ever will.

Getting up from the table and walking out of the room trying to find solace and wake myself from what surely was a nightmare.   Only I found myself lost in a room of coffins sobbing.  My father came and sat by me.  I sobbed so hard.  I could hardly breathe.  Even now, five years later, these memories are so powerful and nearly debilitating. 

I remember telling everyone that I highly doubted that we would be able to have an open casket because of the devastation of the accident. 

I remember the next day when his body arrived and I had to go confirm that it was him, crying with relief that they were able to make his face, head and neck presentable enough for an open casket.  I will forever be grateful to the organ procurement team for doing that.  As horrible as it was, I can't imagine if I had not been able to touch his hair one more time or rest my hand on the side of his face where it was made to fit perfectly.  The edge of my palm fit along his jaw and my fingers reached behind his ear to caress him softly.  It is one of the things that I miss most of him.  How our bodies were MADE to fit together.

Don't forget the memories of the wake.  Of actually SEEING Robert in a coffin.  The finality of that.   There really are not words to describe seeing your soul mate dead and cold.  Memories of  my family and our friends.  The eulogies that were delivered.  Seeing his sweet innocent students who were no bigger than munchkin is now, kneeling and praying the rosary.  Handing me hand written notes of how much they loved their "Mr. Bob"  For most of these kids, Mr. Bob dying was the first time that they had lost someone, and they all loved him. 

Memories of my laughing baby boy in my arms at the very end of the wake.   I was holding him near the coffin and he was laughing.  He was calling Daddy, Daddy and tried to leap from my eyes into the coffin on top of Robert.  I let him touch him and all he did is laugh.  I fainted, my dad caught me and Munchkin.  To say that attending my husband's wake was life altering does not nearly serve it justice.  It doesn't convey the weight of that cataclysmic point in time.

I realize that all Munchkin didn't understand then, he asks questions to try and understand now.  I also know that it is my job to help him understand the inexplicable.

He will take his cues from me and he will grow to know about the world from me.  So, now I will take a deep breath, wipe away my tears, pour another cup of coffee and go build a lego castle.  I will wait for the next series of questions and until then, I will keep myself in the present moment. 

Estate Planning & Messy Stuff

I know for a lot of people this is going to be hard to read, but please, please do! The post below talks about very important grown up things, and even if you don't count yourself as grown up-if you support other people, you are!

Life gets crazy and things change.  You pay bills every month or every year and you look for ways to cut back. In a cost cutting measure, we dropped our life insurance.  We figured that we both had employer sponsored life insurance and that it would be ok to drop the large policy we had when we got married.  Only later when he had back problems and didn't work full time anymore did we consider it, but, by then it was too expensive. 

I had NO life insurance on him when he died.

It was a situation that I was completely unprepared for.   I wish that someone had told me about the "worst case scenario" before he died--and not a sales person either.  Someone my age, that said, hey I made that mistake, learn from me and don't do it.  Really, I do.  So here I am.   Here are a few technical things I wish were different.

1. Get life insurance...lots of it, more than you will ever think you will need.   Enough to cover paying off your house, your cars and living on for quite sometime.   If you die, your spouse will need this support.  If they are working they can use it to put the kids through college or something.  Run, don't walk, go do this NOW.  Seriously, you are still reading? GO!!!!

2. Write a will...who gets what (it can be as simple as my spouse gets everything) even though most states this is the law and most families don't argue with it, if your spouse needs this damn piece of paper, TRUST me, things are not good and the very least you could have done is have a piece of paper that gives your surviving spouse rights to everything.   Believe it or not, families and friends can get CRAZY when people die.  

3. Have a power of attorney.  Do you want to be on life support?  Do you want your organs donated? All of your organs? Do you want to be cremated? Where would you like to be buried?   Have the discussion.  As hard as it is to have now when you and your spouse are healthy, it is much, much harder for your spouse to sit and defend their choices to people.   If it is written down, the paperwork defends your spouse in carrying out choices that you agreed upon.   Again, people get CRAZY with grief. They are in a tailspin and like little children they lash out---protect your spouse from the grave.  Get your crap in order and make your wishes known.   Do it now, when no one is ill and time is not pressing.   We had this discussion many, many times, I knew exactly what he wanted and I did it--but--it wasn't in writing so I had to explain and keep defending our decision.

4. Have a plan in place.   Who are your go to people?  Who will be the ones that your spouse can call to help them with everything that HAS to be done.  I was lucky here in that my parents and siblings got their butts down to Texas ASAP and spent time telling me-sign here, do this, you need to call this person yadda, yadda, yadda.   I am beyond blessed to have such  a great family that looked out for our interests I cannot even express it.

What I can say is that there are people that come out of the woodwork immediately and then again later and will try and get things that aren't theirs to get, or they will take advantage of someone grieving a loss.  It is sick, it is wrong, I believe there is a special place reserved for this kind of behavior, but know that it does happen, it can happen and it likely will happen.   Who are your "people" that your spouse or you could turn to?  They may not be family but you just need to know. 


Take it from me, please, please go make sure that you have these things tied up.   That you have legal documents in place.  Do it when you have the luxury of time.  Learn from my experience and at my own personal expense.   Your spouse will not need to deal with the crap that doing these things will prevent.  

I know that it is hard, no one wants to think about the worst case.  No one wants to imagine life without their spouse.  I get that.  We didn't.  Let me tell you it is harder than anything you can imagine, so I beg you--go do these simple things.  Do them because you love your family and you would like to protect them just a little bit.   

In Remembrance of September 11, 2001

Twelve years ago this morning, the world as we knew it changed.   I was working at the hospital and after reloading a crash cart, I looked up on a TV screen and thought it was very odd that they were showing the movie "Armageddon" in an ER.   I completed my rounds and a little while later heard that we were under attack.    I was expecting my sister to fly to see us for her birthday the next day and I said a prayer of thanks that she was not in the air when everything happened.  

One of our pharmacists had family in Pennsylvania, and she left after not being able to get in contact with them.   We were the closes trauma center to IAH and it was eerily quiet to not hear planes in the sky.  I called Robert and roused him from his sleep-he had worked the night before.  When I got home from work we sat glued to the television watching the news reports as most people did.  We held each other, not knowing what would happen next, only knowing that it would be ok because we had each other.  I remember seeing images of people jumping from widows in the upper stores of WTC and thinking to myself-what is so bad up there that they would jump to certain death and I cried for them and I cried for their families. 

Today, 12 years later, I think of all of the families that have had to go on missing a piece.  I think of all of the children that grew up without a parent.   I think of all of the soldiers that were deployed and all that gave their lives so that today I have freedom.   Think of that.   Think of all of the families that lost someone.  

Then I think about all the courageous people who stood up and refused to let their loss define them.  I think of Taryn from the American Widow Project who works with military widows.   I think of the parents that got up everyday and put breakfast on the table and got the kids off to school and kept plugging along even though their spouse was killed in a horrible attack.  I think of all of these things.  

I wonder when my son will start to ask questions about September 11.   Thus far he has not, but one day he will.  I wonder how I can explain hatred to a child.  How can I explain that there are people that let their lives be so ruled by hatred that they are blinded and they do terrible things.   But, today, today, I just remember. 

Past, Present and Future....

This past weekend, one of Munchkin's scouting outings was at Robert's Alma Mater.  It coincided with 15 years to the day of when we got engaged and celebrated our engagement with a mass at the Abbey across from campus.  We were actually engaged the day before, but you know being the busybody that I am, I had gotten us Bears tickets as a surprise for him and he had planned our engagement.  In light of the Bears game, he had to push our engagement celebrations over a few days.  I was perfect.  

Fifteen years ago, I was looking forward to a wonderful long marriage together.  Today, I am an only parent.  It was a day filled of memories.  Filled of ghosts of the past on that campus. 

I made a decision.   Munchkin and I were there to do scouts.  He was there to have fun with his friends and really I didn't think it would have been fair of me to share my ghosts with him.  So I didn't.  I did post on Facebook so that my grown up friends knew what I was thinking, but I hid my sorrow from my little boy in his Tiger Cub uniform.  He was busy being a boy with his friends and he deserves to have his time unburdened by my memories.  Right, wrong or indifferent, I try very hard to have balance in our lives.   Instead of dragging us through the past and opening old wounds, I try to keep us grounded in the present.  When Munchkin asks questions, I answer them honestly and truthfully.   He goes through phases where he asks lots of questions and then times when he doesn't ask any.  I try and follow his lead-I figure he will ask what he wants to know and as long as I answer him, he will keep asking. 

As I was helping clean up, the skies opened to a spectacular display of rays of light shining down from heaven.  I know Robert was with me.  I know he lives on in my heart, and the visual was just a simple affirmation for me.   Let me tell you, the pictures below, don't do it justice.  It was as if the rays were reaching down and touching the stadium. 

It is decidedly odd to have my life come full circle.  A place I shared with Robert that brought us great joy, is now a place I shared with Munchkin.   It is such a dichotomy-to have a place of joy with each of them, that they don't get to share together.   I am having a hard time describing what that feels like, which is weird because it pretty much encompasses my life.   I shared joy with Robert, I now share joy with Munchkin yet, I am the only commonality between the two of them.   Robert doesn't get to help raise his son whom he wished and wished to have for so many years.  

At any rate, I take a deep breath and just try to enjoy it for what it is-the daily goings on of my life. 

Mrs?

I have gotten immune to writing "deceased" on forms that require Robert's name.  Either that, or I just grind my teeth and get through it, with the speed and force of ripping off a Band-Aid.  It hurts for a second, but if you just pull it quickly it is over.   The scab is still there and the skin may be raw but, the Band-Aid is gone.  I guess I have come to terms that I will be writing deceased for a LONG time to come.  I don't agonize over ever form and every blank, or even shed a tear at every letter.   Now, the forms that demand a second contact, those tick me off to no end.  I usually write my name twice and wait for someone to question it.  They usually don't. 

What I am not used to is selecting my title.  I no longer feel like I am a Mrs.  I am definitely too old to be a Miss, and Ms. just doesn't seem right either.  I guess I don't feel like a Mrs.  because that is half of a pair.  Like Yin & Yang, it should be Mr. & Mrs.  only Mr. isn't here anymore. 

The other thing is that sometimes people can assume I have a husband.   Couple that with my tendency to answer questions about him in the present tense, well that makes it very confusing and awkward when I blurt out "my DEAD husband" to clarify.   Yep, just send me off to the Looney bin now!

I digress.  There needs to be another designation.  I mean, widows have earned their stripes so to speak.  We have endured and persevered through things that are unimaginable.  Even in a worst nightmare, most people would not picture our car accident.   They wouldn't picture all of the things that I went for that I still don't have the words to share with all of you.  

I know this.  Those of us widowed know this.  but at the end of the day, we are still left with three choices, any of which are considered proper etiquette.  So I chose Mrs. 

For some reason, it just doesn't sit right....perhaps I should go back to school and get that PhD?  Then I can solve it by just being Dr.-but for now, you can just call me Princess :)

Just a little HOPE

This past weekend after spending a ton of time at the beach with family, we finished it off with going to watch the start of the sailboat race.   The morning was cool and it was a ton of fun.  The waves were VERY rough, so much so that we thought that they would call off the race.    The picture below is deceiving, that concrete wall is about 25 feet above the water....so the waves are coming more than half way up. 

We were sitting on the harbor side of the breakwall watching the waves crash over the lighthouse.  The first boat started and then turned around.   Another one started out and stopped.   Finally, a smaller sailboat went right by us and raised the sail.   As I caught the backside of the boat I noticed that it was named "HOPE". 

That little boat, skillfully sailed along the breakwall and went right out into the lake and waited.   One by one, the rest of the boats, about 30 in all, followed that little HOPE and the race began. 

 

As you can see, the riptides were strong...I mean, the life guards went to the trouble to post signs that "death may occur".     When you look at the pictures of the boats, you can see how far they are all listing.   It honestly looked like many of them would be hit by a wave and flipped. 

 

I am struck by the irony of this.   I am one to choose hope and faith  above all else.  I have always been.  For me, the best part of the morning was family.  I was there with my son, brother, cousins aunts and uncles.   I didn't even bring my camera and I think I took less than ten pictures with my phone.  My cousin is the one to thank for the beautiful pictures.    I sat and was present with my family for some very peaceful time.  Something five years ago seemed impossible.   I let my son play in the sand with his cousins and I sat and visited with the grownups.   It was peaceful and it was   perfect.   So I am glad that my perspective on life allows me to realize what is happening around me and to be present and find joy again.   I am always grateful for hope and joy in whatever way they show up in my life!

 

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??? 

A Letter to Teachers

At this time of year there are tons of letters to parents floating around the internet, asking us to be involved with our kids and back up  the teachers.  DUH.   We do these things.   I know many families don't or simply can't, but there are plenty of families that do.  

Do today I would like to share a letter to the teachers:

Dear Teacher,
I know that you don't know us and you have thirty families to deal with this year, but I wanted to just take a few minutes of your time. 

I appreciate all that you do as a teacher, I know that being in teaching for many years is not easy and it is a service of the heart.  I commend you for that.  I believe that God pick teachers and that teaching is a calling.  

I thought you would like to know a little about us.   My munchkin is 6 but in some ways he is much older.   My wish for him is to have fun learning.   I know that is a tall task for you with 30 kids that have likely 30 different levels of abilities, but really please remember that.

I promise you that I will help to keep him responsible for following all of the rules and using his manners. I promise that we will do our reading, and when he comes to school talking about the books we have read at home, please listen. I want him to be happy at school and not to be bored.   I know it takes a lot of your energy to keep everyone engaged.  

See he is my baby, my one and only, forever.   I take extra care of him and I hope you will too! 
Oh, and when you ask them to draw pictures of their family, please don't be shocked.  He sometimes will draw a smiling sideways head in the sky.  Sometimes he doesn't and that is ok too, but when he does, that is his dad.  He died in a car accident several years ago and thanks to books, Munchkin thinks heaven is in the clouds.   He may also draw a gaggle of people.  That is our family.  Aunts, Uncles, Cousins and grandparents.   We are very blessed to have so many so close to us.  

When you ask him what his wish is for at New Years, please don't be shocked when he says a new daddy.   I am fine if he wishes for that.  I tell him that if God decides that he is supposed to have a new daddy then he will.   He knows his daddy can't come back from heaven even if he wished for it.  He knows death is permanent.   See that is why I say he is older in so many ways. 

Please remember, that I am not your enemy, I don't do things to make your classroom difficult.  I know that it is only by working together as a team that my Munchkin will be able to excel in all of his abilities.

Lastly, I wish that you have a fantastic year with all of your new kids and that they teach you as much as you teach them!

Sincerely,
Munchkin's Mommy

Email reminders

Nearly a decade ago, I bought us tickets to the Houston Symphony as a gift for Robert.   We had a high school friend that had just earned a chair and it was Christmas. We went.  We had a fantastic time. 

Yesterday, in my email, I received an email from the Houston Symphony. 

Dear Robert, yadda yadda yadda....

Seriously.  It was a slap.  I mean once I cracked his email password, I stopped checking it.   Really it was too painful to look at all of the stuff that was being sent to him.  At this point in time it is extremely rare to get email addressed to him in my email account.   I unsubscribed from it all years ago...yet here we are.

Six and a half years later...approaching his birthday and looking at another email. 

I simply hit delete because there is no value in looking at some reminders.  It was a one time event in our marriage....there was millions of one time events.  What is most important are the memories that define us and define me.   I choose to focus on the ones that bring me a smile. 

Volunteering

A week or so ago I was doing a training to be able to be a Cub Scout leader.  After the training, there was a form you have to fill out your current volunteer experience with children.

Wow, I could think of nothing that I currently do.  NOTHING.  NADA.
 

After Robert died, I was so wrapped up in us that I dropped EVERYTHING.  I needed all my energy to survive.   I needed what little stamina I had for my child.  I needed to work to financially support us, I needed to give him a routine and stability and I needed to heal myself.   I did these things.  I took time for me...often times it was because my mother or sister was lovingly nudging me to do so, but I did it nonetheless. 

Between teething, midnight feedings, working full time, stressing about daycare and preschool, I used up every bit of the energy and stamina that I had.  Every last drop.  That meant that I didn't volunteer for ANYTHING.  No car club, no church groups, no nothing.  Ok not entirely true, I do volunteer for a GFWC club with my mom and sister but that is it. 

I spent three or four days feeling pretty crummy about this lack of volunteerism.  I mean I haven't done anything to help other people.  Wow.   After reflecting, I decided not to feel badly.  I mean, at the time, the tragedy was so life shattering I literally needed every bit of strength to get out of bed.   I swear I walked around with constant tears.  I was in shock, I was in a fog.  I could not function.   Those were very, very dark times.   I didn't have any energy to give.  

I realized something.  My Munchkin was like 18 months old.   I didn't have anything that I needed to volunteer for.   No scouting, no PTA, no doing stuff for sports.   I did what I needed to do.   Now that he is older I AM volunteering. I have made the choice to show up and be there with my child.   I am grateful that I have a choice. 

Now, I have stepped in very, very slowly.  I help out at Taekwondo when they need parent volunteers.  I have joined scouting with him, mainly because it is fun, and mostly because I want to do it with him and I have agreed to do a few things with PTA.  Mostly one time activities.  But I am doing it.  I am doing what five years ago was not possible, and often times inconceivable. 

I still pray that I have the stamina to do these few things and to other parents reading this, it may not seem like much,  in fact it isn't much, but it is all I have to give and that is what is important.  That I am choosing to give my time to serve my family and to spend time with my child.   And that HAS to be ENOUGH. 

Last of summer

It seems like we are in a rush to squeeze in every last bit of summer that we can. 

This weekend, we literally had 4 parties in 72 hours.  Tons of time with family and friends. 
We spent three hours at a park yesterday when I was done working.   Then another few hours outside riding bikes and general frolicking. 

Now that the pool is on very limited hours

Our basketball hoop installation is complete.  Munchkin made a basket on his first shot!  Today's agenda includes pool time, Taekwondo practice and quite possibly a bonfire tonight. 

This summer has been awesome.   A far cry from what I was expecting.   See this post HERE

In short we have spent tons of time together and other than one quick business trip, we have been together every day.  We have been to the beach more than I can count and done some pretty amazing things.

Most amazingly I think is that this summer turned out to be nothing like I dreaded.  

As I sit here and reflect on all we were able to do, I am feeling so very blessed and so very lucky.
See once again, God has come through in our lives proving to me over and over that if I just give my worries to Him, then they work out.  Everyday I am thankful for all that He has given us and all of the blessing he has put on my journey.  

I have been given the gift of time, the gift of health (hey we only had three pediatrician visits all summer---that has to be a new record!).   I am grateful.

We have had time to spend with family and time to be alone as our family unit.   I cannot express my gratitude for these simple pleasures.  

Taking a Pass

As Munchkin's only parent, there is not much I get to take a pass at.   I'm the one who makes him eat his veggies, puts him in time out, stays up with him when he is sick, does homework with him.   I'm the one who talks to him when his feelings get hurt or when things don't go his way.   I am his only protector.  

Th entirety of the life of a single parent is too much for most people to fathom.  Being the only grown up in a house is beyond exhausting.   But I live it every day.   I rarely, very rarely take a pass at anything.   There have been occasions where my sister or mom has pushed me out the door while they babysat with clear instruction to go have fun.   That is about the extent of it.   

I do have a line in the sand.  When he had a spider bite and needed wound packing, I held him, mom did it.   We all cried.... 

When he pulled the skin glue off the gash in his forehead....I couldn't bear to mess with the cut....we went back to the pediatrician and he did it.   I took a pass on those, not because they are gross but because I can't bear to see Munchkin hurt, and having me cause any of the hurt is inconceivable. 

He has had some warts on the bottom of his foot.  I have been treating them with the OTC crap for weeks to no avail.   Today we had a dr appointment for his asthma and I called and asked if we could kill two birds with one stone (copay).   The dr did his thing, froze and removed them.   Then I showed him where he had one by the nail that had fallen off but still looked funny.   He said that I just needed to pull the last piece out.   I laughed and responded, "go ahead".  Literally those were the words that came out of my mouth.   Sometimes I'm so flippant I shock myself.   But, that's my line.   In pulling that last little bit out, it was going to hurt munchkin and I was not about to do that.   The doctor looked at me, chuckled and did it. He remembered our last conversation about this.   

 I am Munchkin's mom.   It is just us.  I have a line.   I have pulled out splinters, applied bactine and peroxide to scrapes, I have even pulled out ticks and stingers.   I will do what I have to do, but given the choice, I will let the doctor hurt him for a second and I will hug him and let him squeeze my hand.   

So today I had the rare occasion to take a pass and I did.   

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.  

Fishing and Life

For at least several months my Munchkin has wanted to learn to fish.  A total little boy thing right?  A rite of childhood passage.  I can tell you that I am very well equipped for this one.  My parents made sure that the girls knew how to do guy stuff and the boys knew how to do girl stuff.  I am lucky in that regard and I know it. 

My dad used to take us all fishing in Lake Michigan.  Usually from shore, but sometimes from the pier.   I can still remember it.   So, even though in my mind, this was clearly a time when Robert would have taught him something and I would have gotten to hang back, sleep in and enjoy some coffee--I was able to say ok without having to ask someone else to do it. 

We headed off to the beach this past weekend and when I hit town, mom requested that I stop and pick up a few things.  Honestly, it is a small price to pay-too little, one could argue for the privilege of sharing the beach with Munchkin and spending time with my parents.

When I pulled into Meijer and Nate asked if we could fish, I said yes.  I selected a pole for him and some extra bobbers.   When dad taught us how to fish, we learned to cast like an expert before we even earned a hook.  As a parent, I think that is a FANTASTIC idea so I decided we would do the same thing.   I checked with the desk and asked the rules for fishing licenses.  I was told if I wasn't fishing it would probably be ok to not get one, however, knowing my luck, a dumb 40 pound Coho would bite his spoon lure just as the Game Warden drove by, so I decided to buy one anyway :)

Munchkin could not contain his excitement!  When we pulled into the beach house, he promptly ran upstairs to show Nana and Papa his new fishing pole.   I explained that we fish early in the morning and he was ok with that.  I had him help me string his pole and attach his sinker and bobber.   There was not a happier boy on the face of the earth! 

The next morning, he rose early and was ready to go.   We walked down to the beach.  I sent a few casts off to remember how to do and explained it to him.   Within a few short tries he had the casting part down pat.  Now, the whole, watch where you swing your pole, now that leaves much to be desired before I will let him have a hook!  Cause, really neither of us need to be hooked!

I stood there on the shore and just watched him.  I basked in his joy and I kept my mouth shut.   While my heart was full of memories of his father, I did not share them with him.  They are not his memories, they are mine. 

While I do enjoy sharing and answering questions, that was not for today.   Today was all about watching my child enjoy learning something new and learning that practice improves what you are working on and watching him be elated that he can cast the line further than I.  It was watching his smile and hearing his laughter and teaching him how to hold the pole, and what to do with the line.  It was about being thankful that these are things that I know. 

If he asks me, I will answer him, but I will wait for him to ask.   If he asks me if Daddy liked to fish,  I will tell him,  Robert was an AVID fisherman.  He loved to fish any chance that he got.  He would go at the drop of a hat and would plan long fishing vacations with his brothers. Before he died, he invited my brothers to go on a deep sea fishing trip with him that was to take place just a few weeks after the car accident.  I have two tackle boxes that are old and crusty now, likely full of rotten fish guts and only good for holding memories.  Sweet ones, but memories nonetheless. If he asks me I will tell him, and if he doesn't I have my sweet memories of watching Robert fish, and hearing his fish tales and looking at the mounted fish on our living room wall.   (The one that sits in the garage, in a box too tangible a reminder to enter the house)

But for now, for today, it is all about sharing a childhood memory with my son and being grateful that it is something that I can do!

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.