Family Reunion

This weekend is our family reunion.  Four days of family, food, shenanigans and laughter.   All of my father's living siblings (they are down to 7 out of 10 now...) will be here either themselves or through proxy and most of their cousins too!  We will have mass on Sunday in memory of the family members who have died.  There are "families" within our family that are missing someone for the first time and we will surround them with love and compassion as they walk their road. 


I have four siblings and for the first time since the summer Robert and I were married, we are all at the beach together.  Here is the thing, earlier in the week, I felt an ache--we are all here except Robert.  It took me time to identify the ache. It wasn't a sobbing mess of missing him--that happens so rarely now, I can't remember the last time. 


Last night, Munchkin was in bed watching a movie and my brother shared with him that he was watching one of his daddy's favorite movies, and I realized I am not the only one who remembers. 
We are all feeling it.  But at the same time, the hole in the fabric of our family that was created, is now a part of the family.  It no longer reduces us to tears.  I no longer stare into the dark of night wishing the pain away.  It is just a part of me and a part of all of us. 




The life we live now is NOTHING like the life Robert and I had with Munchkin. 


Munchkin and I have figured out our two person family and it is our normal. I have been "only parenting" so long, I don't remember what it was like to have that extra set of hands. I don't remember what is it like to have someone else to do things--we are just normal now. Part of that normal is enjoying our family and family reunion. 

Family Trip

I am packing us up to head out of town for spring break.  It has been a rough two weeks with Munchkin being sick and work being busy. oh and me having a broken wrist...makes typing kind of hard to do efficiently!  I honestly haven't had time to really plan or pack. 

I realized tonight as I was running through my lists in my head, that exactly six years ago to the day, the three of us were packing up and heading out of town for our first family weekend.  We were excited to be a family of three taking a trip for the first time.   If you are following me, you likely know that it didn't end well at all...(see here)

There are times where it still seems surreal everything that happened.  Then there are times where I feel like I am in a dream.  Like tonight, getting ready and realizing that I really am in this alone.  We are a family of two. 

I am having a hard time putting my feelings into words.   In ways it feels like the crash was eons ago and happened to someone else.  Some poor girl had her life shattered on the side of the road.  When I look at how far I have come, it really feels like it was someone other than me. 

I remember the broken feelings and I remember how much they hurt, and I take a breath and focus on my life now.   My life is not bad, in fact it is far better than I imagined that it would be.   There are parts of my heart that are still broken and shattered, but they are overshadowed by the parts of me that are grateful. 

So, as I approach the "angel-versary" as it is commonly called, I will focus on the positive and the grateful.  I will focus on the fact that I was loved well and that Munchkin was cherished by two parents even though I am the only one here.  

My Bravest Moment

I entered the following essay in a contest, while I didn't win, I really enjoyed writing it.  It gave me the perspective of how far I have come and examining my choices was actually helpful for me in the present moment.  While most of this story is not new to those of you who have been following me, I still think that it is powerful in and of itself.


_________________________________________________________

In an Instant.

In April 2008, I made the impossible choice to move.   At the surface, moving doesn’t really sound impossible or brave, but brace yourself.   March 30, 2008, started as an ordinary and perfect morning.  We had been in the Hill Country of Texas for the long weekend.  We said goodbye to our friends and hit the road.   The sun was shining and it wasn't yet oppressively hot.

An hour or so later, my husband was killed in a car accident. In front of me.  I was in my car with our child by the Grace of God.   The accident decimated his car, and my car was totaled as well.  The sounds, smells and images of that morning are permanently ingrained into my brain.   I remember it like a choppy movie.  Some pieces I don’t remember.  Some pieces I wish I could forget.  

I remember screaming when I knew he was dead-long before anyone actually told me. I remember my car being assaulted by flying objects before I lost control.  I remember willing my car to stop and not go into the ravine.  I remember my brakes not working.  I remember seeing Robert’s car in my driver’s side mirror hanging shattered from the door of my car.   I remember looking back at Munchkin and seeing him hold his foot with one hand and waving with the other saying “bye-bye daddy, bye-bye daddy” while he smiled and laughed oblivious to the carnage that had just happened.  I remember not being able to get out of my car.  I remember getting out and pulling munchkin’s car seat and taking cover off of the road so that we didn't get hit by flying tires, front grills, transaxles, spraying gas and oil that other cars were driving through before emergency personnel were able to close the street.  I remember looking at the responding officer and thinking he looked like a child as he gingerly cleaned my husband’s blood and shattered glass from his wallet before he handed it back to me.    I do remember a friend being let through the barricade to stand by my side.  I remember praying.   I don’t remember crying, at least not then.  I remember feeding my child, on the side of the road overlooking my husband’s mangled car and body.   I was hours from home in the middle of nowhere with two totaled cars.  Most of my family was 1400 miles away.  Luckily my aunt and uncle were only a few hours away-they came and retrieve us. 

In the following hours, days and weeks, I did insurmountable things.  I donated my husband’s organs.   I made phone calls to tell people that Robert was dead.   I planned a funeral. I planned a wake.  I chose to ignore people who were being mean and spiteful.

I slept alone for the first time in 9 years.

I unlocked the door to our house realizing that Robert would never be there again.  EVER.  I marked my 32^nd birthday and our wedding anniversary.   I marked Munchkin’s first cupcake, the first meeting with my siblings and aunts and uncles and cousins-without Robert by my side.  I stood in a funeral home surrounded by chaos and sobbed.   I fainted in my kitchen.  Fairly certain I passed out at the wake, although I don’t remember much.   Well, except my 11 month old son trying to jump out of my arms and into the casket saying daddy, daddy over and over again.  All he wanted to do at the end of the wake was jump into there with Robert.  He looked at him quizzically, I am sure he thought that he was just asleep or playing a game.  That qualifies up there near the top of the most heartbreaking things I have even endured.  

None of those things, while they took fortitude were inherently brave.  They were things that simply needed to be done.  While they were hard, and heartbreaking and traumatizing each in their own way, they don’t hold a candle to brave. 

My bravest moment came weeks later.   I stood in our living room.  My eyes traveled to Robert’s chair.   I looked at the curio cabinet that he had given me filled with angel statues.   I rocked my son in my arms and I looked at our picture wall.   The wall held pictures of memories and snippets of time that were so happy.   I could see that the life I had planned was no longer.  With the screech of tires and shattering of glass, the planned future in our house was ripped from me.  There was no going back.  I would never lead the life that we PLANNED to have.   I would never grow old with him.  I would grow old, but he will forever be 33 years old.  I looked at the kitchen and saw the tile that we installed ourselves.   I glimpsed around and saw where he SHOULD have been.   

I decided then and there, that I would pick myself up and move forward.  I would do everything in my power to provide a life for my child and I would do it in spite of tragedy.  In that moment, I made the decision to go back home.   

Days later, I got on a plane with a one way ticket and headed home.  I took what I could carry and surrounded myself with family.   It was quite possibly the one of the hardest things that I did.  I made the choice to leave our house, the place where we built our married life.  The place that we had called home for nearly ten years-I chose to walk away and rebuild on the other side of the country.  I knew if I stayed, that it would be much harder for me to dig myself out of the depths of despair.    Now it hasn't been easy at all, but I do think that it was one of the key points in my journey. 

That decision was pivotal for me.   Being able to be in close proximity to my family afforded me the support that I would need to rebuild my life.   There were plenty of memories of us here as well.  We both went to school here and lived here before we moved to Texas.  In the following months, I would get a job, and list my house for sale.  

Even though I had already made the decision to leave and sell our house, actually doing it was another story.  It took me several months to draw the courage to head down there to pack up.  Mom and Dad stayed behind with Munchkin, but my siblings, they came, and they brought spouses and friends.  And my Godmother, she left her child home and came too.  Eight of us worked for a week straight cleaning and packing.  Whatever couldn't be packed-was sold.  I sold off our life, because I wouldn't have a house anymore, I didn't need stuff.  While that sounds logical, I assure you it was heart wrenching.   I walked around my house and sobbed, often uncontrollably.  I knew in my heart that I would never again have a place that both of us would call home.   I sold our bed.  I sold his clothes, I sold our furniture.  Essentially, I took what fit into two pods.  The criteria was-if I would be heartbroken because something could not be replaced then it got packed.  If I could go buy another one if and when I ever bought a house again, it was sold.  

I fought through nights of no sleep, followed by flashbacks of the accident on the rare occasion that I did fall asleep after my son’s midnight feeding.   It got to the point where I could only fall asleep with the TV on…it was pathetic-but at 6 am when I got up teary and bleary eyed to go to work, I could have breakfast with my father.  If I needed to go to the cemetery and scream and yell and cry on the way home, my mom or dad would pick Munchkin up from day care.   I fought HARD to put the memories of the accident behind me.  I focused on our time together and happy memories and creating a happy life for Munchkin and myself.   I sought solace in the sand and waves of my parent’s beach house for that summer.   I chased Munchkin on the beach and took long walks with him.   As I watched the waves wash over the sand, I could feel them soothe my broken soul.   In the coming years, I would excel at my job, learn to live on our own again and now I have purchased my own house.  

In spite of the tragedy of losing my husband, best friend and soul mate, I have been able to pick up pieces and put our life back together.   If I hadn't made the choice to cut the ties to a house that was no longer ours, I don’t think that I would be where I am today.   

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.  

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. 

Random Acts of Mercy and Disclosure

This morning started out as a whirlwind.  Munchkin had a tournament and was extremely excited.  This is the second time where he has competed at the next level up.  We have two rules in our family when it comes to sports...

1. Have Fun!

2. Do your best!

That is it.  That is the extent of my expectations for him.  

While today was a bit of a challenge.  He was in a ring where he was outsized by a literal sixty pounds.  I didn't think that there was any way that he would do well, and as I stood there and watched the kids get assigned to rings, I had in my mind, that there was no way that he was going to go up against these bigger kids.  We had discussed previously, that in order for him to compete in these categories, that Mom has the right to pull him out and have him forfeit if I thought he could get hurt. 

Well, as I stood there praying for guidance, one of the high ranking Senior Masters, pulled my Munchkin and stood him next to the biggest kid and took a picture and sent it to headquarters.  I didn't really know what was happening, but she asked Munchkin where his parents were.   He said that Daddy was dead, but Mommy was right there and pointed at me. 

She walked over to me and said that she had requested a split ring based on size and that headquarters had agreed.   She was extremely gracious and nice and I was thankful.   Munchkin would not be walloped on by gargantuan 8 year olds (he is a very small 6!)

Senior Master was available around our ring and watched a few of the kids.   I thought it a bit unusual.   The high ranks generally watch and judge the other higher ranks, not the kids color belts.  At the end of his competition, I thanked her and we made some small talk.  And when I say high rank, this wonderful woman, is an extremely high rank! 

She asked me if he was an only child-I said yes.  She then told me that her father died when she and her brother were little.  Her mother was widowed at 29 years old.  I was floored.  She went on to share some of her story with me and I had tears in my eyes.  At one point she told me that she believes that it takes a village and at that moment Munchkin's teacher and my dear friend walked up.

I was engaged and fighting tears speaking to Senior Master, but handed her Munchkin's results slips and she was congratulating him.  Senior Master asked me who he studied with and  I reached for our instructor and gave her a hug.  I told her, that we have a phenomenal family in our school and I felt very lucky.  Senior Master went on to tell me how wonderful our instructor is. 

This completely random encounter has left such an impression on me today.   Someone whom I have never met, took the time to share her story and not only that, share how perfectly fine she and her brother are and that her mom was remarried and happy.  Her words gave credence to the fact that kids can turn out okay in spite of the circumstances that the universe dumps on them.

She did share that he mom remarried after she and her brother were off to college, but she personally felt that she had wasted a lot of years.   I told her that my belief is that if God has planned for someone else to be in our lives, then He will put them there.  She said she would pray for us. 

It feels as if the world had given me an affirmation at a time when I really needed to hear it.   Our instructor looked at me with tears in her eyes and told me how proud she knows that Robert must be. 

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. 

Not Ready for School

I have a secret...I am really NOT ready for school to start. 

Not ready to send Munchkin on to first grade, not ready for homework.
Not ready to be making lunches everyday.
Not ready to meet a new teacher-for either of us!
Not ready to share my Munchkin again.

This summer has been pretty awesome.  Tons of time with family and at the pool and beach, but also tons of time just together.  Reading, exploring, playing.  We have had squirt gun fights, water balloon fights, endless games of tag. 

We have laughed A LOT!  He has gotten to enjoy a ton of camps and then come home and excitedly shared his day with me.  It has been magical. 

I am not ready for it to end at ALL!  I enjoy having him home with me and I enjoy our time. 

But in all honesty, what I am really not ready for is to explain us again.  Countless times.  I am not ready for a whole new set of people to have to ask where Robert is, then give me that pity look when I say he is dead.  I honestly don't know why the pity look bothers me. It is far better for a stranger to show emotion than to be indifferent.  I am not ready for a new teacher to ask Munchkin to draw a picture of his family and then call me up when it looks "weird".   Yes it is normal for us to have all his aunts and uncles, Nana and Papa in the picture....and yes the floating head in the clouds that he labels Daddy---well he has done that since he was 2.   His understanding of Heaven is that it is in the clouds-so there Daddy is drawn.  And I am not ready for the seasoned teacher to tell me that she has only ever had a handful of kids who have lost a parent to death.  Ever.  In her whole career. 

I am NOT READY for these conversations.  

But at the end of the day, I am the grown-up.  The only one in our house and since I sincerely want Munchkin to enjoy school, I will suck it up.  I will look to all of the new things he gets to do this year and I will get excited with him.  We will go shopping for school supplies and we will gather up all of the other things around the house.  We will do this with a smile on my face because I know the best thing I can do for him is show him excitement about school. 

I will pray every day for him as I send him off and I will trust God that things will be exactly as they are supposed to be because that is what I do. 

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. 

The Grumpy Lady...

Walking through the mall and Munchkin needs to go potty.  Here is the thing...he is big enough to be independent, however not big enough to go into the mens room by himself.  Not even close.

Last week, a woman actually had the GALL to tell me that my six year old was too old to be using a women's restroom.  Let's me clear.  He was washing his hands.  He had to go...he was not running around peeking under stalls or doing anything that should garner any looks or comments.   He is a little boy who can BARLEY reach the faucet and generally can't reach the paper towels. 

I was flabbergasted.  I stood there for just a moment silent and then I said "I am so sorry that you feel that way.  Have a good day!"  I smiled at her.   She looked shocked and then shot me another dirty look. 

For a split second I was feeling bad.   I felt like I was the one in the wrong.  Then I went and posted the encounter on Facebook and within minutes I was inundated by people commenting that she was way out of line! Whew.  I was relieved.

See as this was happening, I choose to "kill her with kindness" because I didn't want Munchkin to feel like he was in the wrong or out of line in any way.  I did not want to let this strange lady have ANY ounce of control over our day or our life.  When Nate asked me why she was so grouchy, I replied that sometimes people can just be mean when they are having a bad day.  He looked at me funny and told me that it wasn't nice of her to be mean and maybe she should make a better choice.  

Yes my dear, she did need to make a better choice, because our choice is just fine for us!

These Days

The other night, we were playing outside.  Munchkin was running around the yard.  I was admiring the grass that I had cut a few days ago.  The air was cool and the sun was setting.   Two of our friends were walking by and stopped to chat.

I am feeling so blessed that we live in such an awesome neighborhood, where everyone knows each other and people play together in the evenings.  Where friends stop to talk and literally are just a phone call away.  Where kids play outside and ride bikes and chase lighting bugs and whine to stay up just a little later.

I am grateful that for the moment we are living an idyllic life.  One that I had hoped and wished and planned for.  Evenings in the yard, coffee on the patio in the morning.  Looking at the bunnies hop through the yard and hoping that the fox isn't hot on their tails.  I am in awe of all of the wonderful things that have happened in our life.  I never dreamed that we would ever have a house again.  Yet, here we are!

Six years ago I was hoping to share these days with Robert and our child someday. Five years ago, I couldn't see past the brokenness to imagine these days would ever happen or feel good without Robert here.   Today, even though Robert isn't here, I have a sense of contentment with the life that we have.  It doesn't make it ok that Robert is dead, but I can tell you on most days, I have found the fortitude to be grateful for what is in front of me today.  I am grateful because I know how quickly and permanently things change.  I give thanks constantly for our blessings and I pray every day to continue to be blessed. While I certainly think I have had my share of tragedy, this bliss is not guaranteed to continue and I know that.  I have worked very hard to stay in the present moment and to practice gratitude and it seems to be working.  It seems to be getting better for us. 

We are very, very blessed these days.  

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. 

International Widows Day

Yesterday was International Widows Day as declared by United Nations. 
While things are not rosy here in the USA for Widows, at the very least we don't have customs that strip us of other rights. 

Around the globe, there are people that are widowed that then have to face losing their house, their children, their property.  They may be forced to marry a member of their husband's family.  They may not be allowed to actually own property which means that they along with their children could be out on the street.  WOW, talk about perspective.   I had to sell my house, but it was mine to sell.  I moved across the country and lived with my parents but that was MY choice.  I had choices.  I know I am lucky.

Yesterday, Soaring Spirits Loss Foundation took the opportunity to feature love stories of widows on their FB page.  

Our love story was lucky enough to be picked.  I was so excited to share Robert's smile and love with other people.  It actually made me happy to be able to share him and our history with other people.   I thought that it would be hard, but really it wasn't.  I was excited to have other people have a glimpse into us and our love before our world was shattered. 

As I looked through all of the posts, I saw happy and smiling people.  I saw that before everyone was shattered, we smiled.  We were happy. Before we were shattered we were happy. 

This is something that I hadn't really put a lot of thought to.  I know we were happy, I know we had a great marriage, I say it all the time.  But SEEING our happiness with my own eyes, that was a new perspective.  So while yesterday was all about advocating and bringing to light circumstances around the globe, what it really did was open my eyes.  It opened my eyes to the pure joy that I used to feel and instead of making me sad, it made me want to have that again. 

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

Chores and Connections

Quite possibly one of the most frustrating things about being an only parent is the fact that there isn't any one to help with anything. When we were married, we had a clear division of chores, inside was mine, outside was his. I didn't mess with his garage and he didn't mess with my craft room. It worked for us. Saturday mornings were chore days, he would cut grass and putz around outside. I would clean inside and putz in the kitchen or craft room. Around lunch time we would be done and go on with our day.

Now, I have no one to divide and conquer with, consequently getting ready for a party at my house is a HUGE undertaking.

This past week, I mowed my lawn for the first time. I have a tractor that came with my house, but it needed a new battery, so I also have Robert's lawnmower. It took me two and a half hours but I did it. As I was using his lawnmower, it hit me, that this may possibly be the only useful thing of this that I kept to use at my house. As my sweat poured down my arms and onto the handle, I had the realization that my sweat was mixing with his once again. It was a peaceful feeling. I am not sure that I have words to really describe what it felt like, other than to say that for a brief moment I felt connected to him once again. Physically connected.

For the first time that I can remember, that connection was not quickly replaced with an empty longing. And I was proud of myself. I conquered the grass...it wasn't perfect and it was messy, but I did it.

Hometown Dairy Queen

We live in a suburb of Chicago.  It is a relatively small town, where most everyone knows everyone else.   Except for the ten years we lived in Texas, I have been here my whole life.   My parents have been in the same house for 31 years.   Many families have been here that long or longer.

One of the rites of passage of summer is going to Dairy Queen or "DQ" as we refer to it.   For as long as I can remember it has been a gathering spot.  When I first moved back, I had run into so many old friends there picking up a cone or dilly bar.   It is one of the perks of being in a small town.  Families gather and share ice cream.  Sports teams go there after games and practices.  It is an institution in the community.  I grew up meeting friends there for DQ.

Tonight, we had dinner then went to mom and dad's so that Munchkin could play with Nana's new puppy--which is an entirely different post.

When we got in the car, he asked to go to DQ.  I acquiesced   Well, while I am used to running into my friends there, I was totally unprepared for my social butterfly to start running into his buddies!  But there they were no less than 4 boys he knows either from school or TaeKwonDo.  

While I visited with the other parents, he visited with his friends.  All was right in the world.  Well, until one of the little boys asked me if Munchkin's daddy really died.  I thought the mother was going to collapse.  I said that yes he did, and the little boy did not believe me.

Now, I have gotten used to the idiocy of grownups in asking dumb questions, but the realization that my son would have one of his friends doubt something that he says.  That hurt.  It made my heart hurt for him.   I know that he doesn't completely grasp things yet, but he will.   One day, he will realize exactly what it means that someone he calls a friend would think that he would make up a story about his dad being dead.

While I know that it  is no reflection on us whatsoever, and I know that this other little boy is likely lucky enough to have no reference point of death in his life, so hearing that someone else lost something as central to his life as a father has to seem incredulous to him, I am not sure that my son will have that same level of understanding when he starts to "get" it.

The mother was profusely apologetic.  At this point my Munchkin was conversing with one of his TaeKwonDo buddies.  She apologized again and her son asked me if he really did die.  The mom and I exchanged a look, I bent down and told him that yes, Munchkin's daddy did die and that sometimes that happens.

The mother thanked me for being so kind and apologized again.  I told her that it was OK  and that her son probably has never known anyone who died so it is a foreign concept to her.  She told me that was true and then again commended me for my composure and kindness.   Really, I was just showing her child the compassion that I would like others to show to mine.

The Campout-Perfect Moment Monday

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.

this is hosted by www.lavenderluz.com and is a monthly blog hop! 

Well Munchkin is officially a Tiger Cub Scout.  He could not be happier.  We went on the first campout a week ago.  It was at a camp ground that I used to frequent with the Girl Scouts many, many years ago. We talked about safety, we talked about protecting the environment, we talked about camp fires and everything else.  All week we prepared mentally for this.

One of the days driving home from school he asked me "Was Daddy a Boy Scout like my uncles?"  My breath caught in my chest.
"No Munchkin, he was not, he actually never had the opportunity"
"But why not Momma?"

How do you explain to a kiddo that by the time his Daddy was born, his parents were of their own admission "tired"  that his uncles are the age of MY parents.   All of these things ran through my head.

"well, because there wasn't a troop at his school or church" While that is only partly true, it was enough for him.

We went on with our preparations.   The morning before we left, I was declared the "Most Fabulous, to the moon and back AWESOME MOMMY, because you are taking me camping mom"  His words, not mine!   The weather was perfect, his asthma was in a very rare state of control.  We had the limited amount of gear we needed and we started packing up the car.   I had given him a list of what to bring-none of which included anything with an on/off switch and he did not care one bit!  There was no fussing, no arguing and no nothing.  He didn't even ask me if I was bringing my iPad!  

I spoke with my brother and made sure I wasn't leaving out anything essential-he nicely suggested some extra water for all of us!

 On Saturday afternoon, we arrived at the campsite.  He helped me unload the car and pitch our tent.  He had a fantastic time exploring with the boys and making new friends.  He was one of the first to volunteer when help was needed and was generally happy and cheerful the entire time.  I got to spend some time with my brother and uncle and the kids ran around happy as could be.   My Munchkin spent the better part of the weekend climbing trees.  The smile on his face was PRICELESS!

On a hike, he learned about different plants-what to touch and what not to touch and why.  He tried his hand at geo-caching and learned how to read a GPS.   After the campfire, most of the moms left-no sleeping in tents for them.  Munchkin was asleep in 5 seconds flat after he got in the tent.   I lay there and just gave thanks for the time we have together.  I am so happy that he enjoyed himself so much, there may be some family camping in our future!

Because, really, there is not much better than spending time in nature with the people you love.