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.  

Donna Day-Childhood Cancer Happens, you can help!

Several years ago a friend of mine emailed me the story of a woman that was choosing hope every day.  She took the time to write the story of her daughter's life.  Many of us chose to read.  Many of us cried.  Sometimes Donna's story was hard to read, but read it I did.  Later that year, I was listening to the Lurie Children's telethon waiting to hear another family friend speak, and I head Jeremy and Sheila.  

Donna Hornik's Storysong

Today all over the web bloggers are coming together to write about Donna and ask you to help fund childhood cancer research.   Many people would lay down in the face of tragedy.  Not Mary Tyler Mom!  This family continues to do amazing things even though they lost their child.   Their family chooses hope everyday. 

I can't imagine, nor do I want to even consider what losing a child looks like.  Tragedy can touch anyone at anytime, that lesson fate has taught me well.  What I haven't learned is how to reach out to others in loss, this is a lesson that MTM can teach me and I am all ears!  (Actually, MTM is one of the people who encouraged me to write my blog--so for all 6 of you that read my words--thank her and Laura!)

The Donna's Good Things St Baldrick's fundraiser is coming! 
Donna's Good Things St Baldricks March 29th

Oh and What is Donna's Good Things? 
http://www.donnasgoodthings.org/
An organization that honors a CHILD by doing good things that 4 year old Donna never had the chance to do.   It is amazing and is a labor of love!  


So what can you do to help a family "parent" a child who has died? Well for this family, they are looking for donations.  The money you donate to specific pediatric cancer research could help someone you love. 

So, in that respect please:

1. Donate in support of the Donna's Good Things head shaving event for St. Baldrick's. Click here for details or to donate.
2. Purchase a St. Baldrick's "Super Heroes Save Lives" t-shirt featuring Marvel characters Iron Man, Spider Man, Captain America, Thor, and The Hulk. All t-shirts sold through February 28 are credited as support from Donna's Good Things. The t-shirts can be seen and purchased here.

 

Piano Teacher

Robert was a piano teacher.  I can remember the little kids and their parents coming through our door to meet him.  The families would interview him, but he was also interviewing the family.  He would ask to make sure that the child had a genuine interest in music.  He wanted to instill a lifelong love of music in his students.  To him, it didn't matter if they took piano for one year or ten as long as they loved music.  He was not one of those teachers that demanded hours of practice each week-although ironically, most of his students did practice a lot.  They flourished under him.  I saw timid small children develop stage presence and confidence. 

Since he died, his piano has sat silent.  It haunts me, I don't play it because every time that I do, I end up in tears.  Munchkin however, has free reign.  He can play it whenever he wants.  I have taught him to not bang or kick on it when he was very little so he sits on the bench and plays the keys.  He loves to explore the sounds that the keys make.  He is absolutely intrigued by the tuning process and will sit and watch the piano tuner when he comes.   My heart aches with the things that Robert misses on seeing.  Keep in mind as soon as he could sit up, Robert had him on the piano bench next to him.  Robert would play and Munchkin would imitate him at four months old!

When Munchkin was 2 and 3 he took group piano classes in his Montessori school.  He loved it and did very well.  He was reading already so he mastered things much faster than other kids.  He was young so I didn't push him right away into a teacher, but for 3 years I have been on a quest for the "perfect" teacher for us. 

I have interviewed more than I can count.  Some use a method that I just don't care for-and since he reads very well, isn't necessary.  Others won't take a kid until a certain age, regardless of the innate desire of the child...nope that rigidity isn't what I was looking for.

One of the biggest obstacles is finding someone who doesn't have any preconceived notion of Munchkin in that he is our child.  Do I expect that he will have a love and talent for music, ABSOLUTELY!  Do I wish that to be held over him and have him held to a different standard than his age peers...NO WAY!  Why is this an issue--we live in a very small town, many of the music teachers that are well known taught either my husband or myself OR took lessons from my husband 20 years ago.  That is a mighty high wall for a six year old! Couple that with my desire to not drive 45 minutes round trip to one of the colleges and it is difficult to say the least.

After years of talking and interviewing, I found a person who has no associations with the local schools and therefore didn't know us.  She is FABULOUS!  She and I exchanged email questions for a few weeks.   We spoke on the phone for over an hour.  She uses a method series that I was unfamiliar with, but was kind enough to lend me the books so that I could review it myself (it is new to the market after Robert's death, but I really do like it! I also like the fact that Munchkin won't be reusing any of "daddy's music" and will have his own books--hopefully holding his own identity in music!)  We were on a waiting list for a spot to open up.  I had been on that list for several months.   One day, Munchkin asked if he could learn piano again, and she happened to call me that day to say she had an opening!

He started lessons with him a month or so ago.  He loves it.  Every Friday night he gets to go and "play games" while I listen.  He responds well to her and she just loves him.  I can see how well she treats and stretches her students to learn.  It is comforting for me to see him flourish!  I am glad that instead of bringing heartache for the both of us, it is something that Munchkin is thoroughly enjoying. 

She teaches to HIS style, which is something ROBERT was always doing and clearly differentiated him in the marketplace.  Munchkin's teacher has figured out that he loves creativity and he is learning the fundamentals through improv and games.   I could not have picked a better fit for him!   I am grateful that this woman was placed in our lives and will hopefully help me to help Munchkin develop his own love of music!

Looking for the Beauty

We are having a record breaking winter in terms of snow fall. 

I LOVE SNOW.  Seriously, I used to gripe and complain and tell Robert every year how much I missed snow.  I love the looking at a snow globe out the window. 

Now that I work at home, I don't have to worry about driving in it, or more specifically, I don't have to worry about who was driving next to me or around me. 

When I look at my facebook feed, it is full of moaning and groaning about mother nature, winter, snow and ice. 

I get it.   People are tired and want to fast forward to spring. 

Here I am still enjoying the snow.   I have taken a different approach.  I have been taking this opportunity to admire the beauty of snow. 

In the past I had seen pictures of single snowflakes and I always admired the beauty of them.

This year I have started taking the opportunity of all of the snow to start snapping pictures of snowflakes. 

I am taking the time to capture the beauty of my circumstance.  I can't change the seasons, so I am working to find the beauty exactly where I am.  I am not complaining or wishing away the snow and cold.  I am deliberately taking the time to stop and look around.  

I am by no means a "good" photographer, however, I am pretty happy with the way the pictures that have turned out.    As I was sorting through my pictures this morning,  I was reflecting on this.  

Perhaps the secret to being content in any situation is to find the beauty around you.   Children are good at this.  My Munchkin is an expert at it.  I have him to thank for helping me to find beauty around me.  I am more observant because of him.

My challenge to you is to stop for just a minute and find the beauty around you.  I promise that it will not be wasted.  

Charlie Brown....

Robert had a signature song....whenever anyone asked him to demonstrate his piano "chops" he would break out into a rendition of "Linus and Lucy" it was one of his favorites to play and people usually knew the tune.  He would play it daily claiming that it made for a good "warm up" on the piano.  For years, that song has brought me to my knees in tears for no reason and I have been quick to shut it off.  It was too much.

Charlie Brown Christmas was on TV.  I watched it with Munchkin.  He loved it.  He did think that Lucy was very mean to Charlie Brown and he thought that Charlie should have told her to stop being a bully-but he loved the show.

On Friday night we had valentine's dinner at my parent's house.   As my dad flipped through the channels, I heard the soundtrack and I inhaled sharply.  Munchkin let out a "STOP THERE PAPA" and he was hooked all over again.   He watched everyone skip Charlie Brown when it came time for valentines and declared that the kids he went to school with were mean.   If he was there he would be Charlie's friend.  

One of the strangest things for me is that I get to watch Munchkin find joy in something that Robert and I used to.  He has such a deep belly laugh and I love to see him smile.   It reminds me of Roberts grin and it brings me joy.  For a fleeting moment, it feels as if my life is coming full circle.  The only thing missing is Robert.

Conversations

Last night we were having one of our nightly conversations.  We were talking about the 10 Commandments as God's rules for our lives.   I paraphrased a few of them into things that Munchkin could understand and my translation of adultery was that "God says we can only be married to one person". 

Munchkin looked perplexed..."But mama, what if God wants you to get married again?" 

*SIGH*

My head filled with a million thoughts...
-what if I want to be married again?
-would I ever have anyone as special as Robert again?
-Why am I even having this conversation with a 6 year old?
-Why on earth do I even have to explain how people are technically married, but not really married when someone dies?

My head was spinning with the speed and depth of my thoughts.  

I took a breath and answered him as best as I know how. 
"If God puts someone in our lives then there are things that mommy could do in the church to get married again and it would be ok"

Thankfully, for the moment he was satisfied with that answer, because honestly, I am not sure that I am up to discussing a Catholic annulment with him!

He went to bed without further exploration of the topic.

I however, was still reeling.   I am sometimes silenced by the thoughtful questions that he has for me, and I remind myself that I am his first and best teacher and I answer him in ways that do my best to nurture his curiosity and make him feel safe and valued for his questions.  My hope is that when he is a teenager, I can still be his source of information instead of having him get answers from the media. 

I realize that as painful as his questions sometimes are, that his curiosity is normal.  

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.