getting mad at the dead

So, I've been getting mad at Brian the last couple days. I freely admit this because I realize it is normal and doesn't make me an evil person with terrible thoughts. It doesn't discount the relationship I had with Brian and it doesn't show him disrespect.

I received news recently that a lady I know through friends, who has this really cool business (that's her family in the pic) recently moved to Singapore. While back in the states this summer with her family, Joe, her husband who works for Cat, tragically, suddenly and unexpectedly died in the presence of some of his family while preparing to run a 5K in Florida. Very young, late 30s, healthy man. Heart attack. All their belongings are in Singapore. They have no home and no car in the states. They have 4 children ages 5 to  9. Their families are all from Ohio. They have lived in Peoria for years prior to moving to Singapore.

And I could SOOO totally relate, but then not at all. I had time to prepare for Brian's death. He was sick and it was coming and we were warned about it. She had no warning. I can relate to all your belongings being in another country and having no home and no car. We were living in Canada when Brian went in for surgery, yet came out never performing many of the basic functions of life normally again. All our belongings were in another country. Brian never returned. I can relate to having no home and no car and relying completely on those around you just to help you do basic life duties, but not to the degree that she is experiencing this right now. Not even a fraction.

So my first reaction is immediate empathy for this woman and her kids and what I know they are about to endure. And all the life-changing huge decisions that will need to be made and some of them quickly. And all the uncertainty when just trying to hard to hold it together for the sake of the kids. And just trying to determine where home is on top of it all. And my experiences in all these events are a fraction of what she is about to endure. But, I can relate and I want to just hold her hand and help her, but it isn't for me to do.

My second reaction was anger at Joe. Yes, you read that correctly. I was mad because how dare he die like that when they had a plan. They have a good life and a plan for their future. Now what?

And then I got mad at Brian for the same reasons. We had a plan. We were very financially responsible and had a plan for college and retirement and had mutually agreed-upon goals and lifestyles. We HAD A PLAN! And after living for the past year like nothing has really happened except handling grief and making room in my heart for a potential new relationship and clearing up the emotional air, things are starting to change. I am going to work part time this fall. I am going to have to re-prioritize my gym and work out time and life in general. Grant and Gavin are playing separate fall sports and will require oodles of running here and there. This was not part of the plan. Angie staying home was the plan. A mom and a dad to split the parenting was part of the plan. It makes me kinda mad. How dare Brian die in the middle of the plan?!

And the garage is a mess. I got mad at Brian the other day because I don't want to deal with the garage mess. I don't want to deal with the expired fertilizers and 15 bottles of nearly empty oil and bug killers, etc. That was never my job. I don't want the garage to be added to my already too big pile of crap to do. I DON'T WANT IT! Yes, I realize I sound like a 2 year old. I'm okay with that. I don't want to remember when the stupid van needs an oil change. I don't want to HAVE to mow the lawn because no one else is here to do it especially when I am packing and preparing for a 5 day trip, yet knowing it needs to be done before we leave for that 5-day trip. Life wasn't designed for one person to handle everything. This wasn't the plan. And for some reason the last few days, probably accentuated by the recent news of the family above, I have been getting resentful of my situation and mentally throwing a temper tantrum instead of just handling it like I began doing even before Brian died. I'm mad.

I guess grief still comes up and haunts you at unexpected times even when you seem to be doing really well. I should know that.

So today, I went to the cemetery for a spell. I threw my mental and emotional temper tantrum and told Brian and the air and the ground that I was mad. I cried and talked out loud a bit saying, "This isn't the life I signed up for. This wasn't part of the plan!" Then, I wiped my face and drove home.

Later, I'll mow the lawn.

Because, in the end, this is my life. I have to live it.

KEEP BELIEVING

firsts and lasts

When my children were born, I remember vividly the first time I held them. In fact, that entire first year, I spent countless hours documenting and savoring all those “firsts.” I remember the first bottle, but I don’t remember the last. I remember the first diaper I changed, but I don’t remember the last. I remember the first time they crawled and the first steps they took. I remember their first teeth. I remember the first time I fed them baby food. So many wonderful "firsts."



I wish we would carry over that savoring of the precious moments into adulthood. Some of the firsts and lasts.



Today, I have been thinking so much of the first and lasts of my relationship with Brian.



I remember vividly our first kiss. I do not remember our last.



I remember the first time he told me he loved me. I also remember the last.



I do not remember the first or last time we held hands, but I can recall the countless times in between.



I remember the last night we slept in our bed together.



I do not remember the first words Brian spoke to me. I DO remember the last.



I remember the first time we had sex. I do not remember the last.



I remember the first time we flew together.



I can’t stop thinking about the last day of Brian’s life today. To me, he died on the 16th of March. That is the day his body started seizing uncontrollably and he lost the ability to communicate with us. It is THE ABSOLUTE SINGLE worst day I can recollect. I am trying really hard not to recall it over and over today(Brian would hate it if I dwelt on something like that. He'd call it a waste of time and energy), but if I stop for even 5 minutes I am flooded. I am forced to face that day and the entire last week of Brian’s life again. I was numb last year. I would like to remain numb forever.



If I would have known it was Brian’s last week of life, I would not have gone out to dinner with friends on Friday night just a couple days before he would breathe his last. If I had known it was his last night, I would have stayed up all night singing to him and gently talking to him telling him how much he has meant to me. I would have held his hand and stroked his hair. I would have gazed into his eyes and mentally recorded every single square inch of him that I could.



If I had known it was the last time the boyz would see him alive, I would have at least taken a picture. For ALL THAT IS HOLY, the last picture I have of them together is a few weeks before he died. WHY? I sent my boyz away for the weekend. They left and it was the last time they would see his body when it was not lying in a casket. I do not remember the last thing he said to them. I think it was along the lines of “give me a hug, buddy. I love you. Bye bye. Have fun.” But I DO NOT REMEMBER!



Thing is, I should have known. I knew he was dying. I just didn’t know when would be the last. We were told he would drift to sleep and sleep more and more til he didn’t wake. Brian did exactly the opposite. He stayed awake for nearly 4 days on end. His eyes would wander around the room looking for non-existent noises. He spoke to people who were not here. He was dying and we all knew it. How did I not treat every single solitary second like it could have been the last? I was so petrified of being tired and therefore being a bad mom to my boyz that I gave so many duties to our family and friends – including staying up at night with him.



I was ready for the sleep. I was ready to sit next to him and watch him peacefully drift out of this world. I was prepared to hold his hand, stroke his hair, sing him songs and pray with him as his soul left this world.



It didn’t happen like that.



I don’t know why.



I don’t know if I will ever overcome the regret of how I spent those last few days.



I think I will.



I have to.



I don’t remember the first words I said to Brian. I do remember the last.



I told him I loved him. I told him that I was a better person for having known him. I told him the impact he had on my life and so many others is immeasurable. I told him it was okay to go. I told him that Jesus was waiting for him. It was okay to go now because the boyz and I were going to be just fine thanks to how he has shaped us. I told him I loved him.



I don’t remember the first words Brian said to me. I do remember the last.



He said, “Yeah, I love you too.”



Those were the last words Brian ever spoke.



He loved me.

He loved me.

He loved me.

I loved him.

I loved him.

I loved him.



If we could all be so intentional in words and actions as though they could be our last, the world would be a better place.

Our first photo together. February 1993

Last photo we took together, February 14, 2009. An entire month before he died.

KEEP BELIEVING



I apologize for this post being all over the place. I lost my original. I have been so BUSY today intentionally. If I stop, I am overwhelmed. I stopped just long enough to write this. Now, I am off to being intentionally busy again.

(Tooth) Fairy Tales and other happily ever after farces…

In two days time this week, I have witnessed a couple of instances of fairy-talish happily ever after via mainstream media - the season finale of the Bachelor and the Tooth Fairy movie. And both of them set the wrong way with me.



Let me start by telling you I LOATHE the Bachelor. I detest every single solitary second of the pining away over the ever-so-difficult decision of being in love with two different girls at the same time. DUDE! IF YOU ARE IN LOVE WITH TWO GIRLS AT THE SAME TIME, THEN YOU ARE NOT REALLY IN LOVE WITH EITHER OF THEM!!!! And by the way, what got you there was NOT REAL. It was in front of a camera. It was in a tropical or other paradise. It was all expenses paid. It is NOT REAL LIFE!!! So, how can you know whether or not you love this person when you come home from work each day? How can you know if you love this person after they look like crap and were lying on the couch sick all day? How can you know if you love this person when you have to cancel plans because something else came up and you totally let them down? YOU CAN’T!! I hate the freaking show. Because it is about as UNREALISTIC as it gets regarding love and relationships today.



Yet millions flock to watch this show and make judgments on the girls’ character, values, etc. based on what a few biased producers/editors want to show them based on the fact that THEY are looking to make money with the show. So, YES, they are going to make a couple girls look like total Bee’s with itches in order to boost some ratings. Because February? Is a SWEEPS month for television. And high ratings in SWEEPS months equals big bucks for advertising on that station next year.



Some of the millions that flock to this show are my girlfriends. So, for the last two years, we have had BACHELOR parties to watch the season finale. Last year, I wore my wedding veil and shoes and pearls to mock my friends. This year, I hosted the party. I’ve lost about 10 pounds since last year. So, this is how I hosted:

A couple of others joined in the fun including a surprise visit from Napoleon Dynamite. He noticed I was drinking 1% milk. He asked if it was because I thought I was fat. Cuz I’m not. He said I could drink whole if I wanted. He’s so smooth.

The second fairy-tale I experienced was taking the boyz to see the Tooth Fairy. (Spoiler Alert) This movie is based on an aging, brut hockey player who is trying to woo Ashley Judd as he dates her. She wants to see how he interacts with her two kids including a middle-school son and a daughter at tooth-losing, tooth-fairy believing age. I would say 6ish. He is sentenced by the fairies to do tooth fairy duty for a couple weeks due to his constant crushing of dreams by telling kids to aim low and that their chances of making it big are slim, etc. because that is his own experience in life.



My issue with this movie isn’t the fairy aspect or the shrinking paste or the amnesia dust or invisibility spray or the random disappearing into a swirling colorful vortex. My issue with this movie isn’t even an issue I would have had 6 months ago. My issue with this movie is taking my boyz to see it and wondering what goes through their minds, wondering if they caught on to the happily-ever-after theme of a man trying to woo a single mom with kids who had no apparent father figure in their life (no mention of Dad at all), a man who had little interest in the boy at first, but gradually (after two whole encounters) assumed the role of mentor and encourager in the boy’s life. I wondered what went through their minds as they saw this man who was obviously smitten with the beautiful mom become just as smitten with the kids and develop into a part of the kids lives.



All before the 2-week tooth fairy sentence was over.



It is obviously a sign of the time of my life when the largest concern I have over a movie is whether or not my boyz are buying into the “happily ever after” concept as it pertains to their own situation. I just don’t want to feed them any unrealistic expectations. I worry about what they think is going to happen next in their lives.



I notice how they so badly crave adult male attention – so much so that they act like idiots when they do get it. They really don’t know what to do with it. I don’t know how to help them. It breaks my heart.


So I wonder how they process watching TV or movies where the parents are not married or a parent is not present (hello Disney movies) and what events unfold in the characters' lives.



Gavin randomly mentions that I should just get married again. According to him, I’d be less sad, there would be someone else to help me and he would have someone to play catch with and wrestle around with. Someone else could take him to play his sports and stuff like other dads. Yes, he says this.



Grant never says a word about it, but he is the one that acts completely goofy and says really off–the-wall and sometimes alarming things to get the attention of adult males around him.



The void in their lives is apparent only to me. I obviously don’t point it out to them. Others don’t notice it and would think Grant to be strange or rambunctious or violent.



I see two fragile little boyz who have had a rough life chock full of harsh reality. I see two little boyz that loved their daddy and miss everything he was to them. I see two little boyz that I want to protect and help. Part of that protection is keeping them from having unrealistic expectations and believing in the fairy tale.



I guess because I don’t believe it myself. Not that I can’t get re-married some day. Just knowing it is way more complicated than the movies and TV.



Sometimes I wish I could believe in the fairy tale version. I hate that as adults we get so beat down with reality it causes us to stop believing.



As I have said in the description of the blog and in the “about me” section, the title of this blog used to pertain to Brian’s healing and health. He is completely restored in heaven now. Now the title pertains to the boyz and I finding our place in this world. As a good friend once encouraged me, it is a fluid statement relating to whatever season and circumstance the boyz and I are experiencing. It didn't end with Brian. Whether it is doses of reality, fairy tale endings or something in the middle, I find it very fitting today to close with…



KEEP BELIEVING

a letter to my boyz regarding AIM

Dear Gavin and Grant,

You are capable of catching a 9" circumference baseball in a glove opening less than 8" wide.

You are proficient at banging an 8" circumference tennis ball with a 10" racket in the front driveway.

You are adept at knocking the cover off a 9" circumference baseball with an 8" circumference baseball bat when thrown at you from over 30 feet away.

You can swish a basketball 27 inches in circumference into a hoop only a few inches larger 8 feet in the air.

Heck, you are talented enough to hit an aluminum can less than 8" tall with a 6mm bb from a gun over 20 feet away.

CAN YOU PLEASE EXPLAIN TO ME, THEN, WHY YOU ARE INCAPABLE OF GETTING A STREAM OF LIQUID A FEW MM WIDE FROM YOUR BODY INTO AN OPENING 11" X 12" WHEN YOU ARE STANDING LESS THAN SIX INCHES AWAY FROM IT????!!!?!?!?!?!?

KEEP BELIEVING

Single parenting while sick...

I will start out telling you that I am much better. Still not 100%, but getting closer. For the last 2 weeks, I was sick on and off, where off means Tylenol and Advil performed their intended function, with a cold which gave birth to a cough which gave birth to a sore throat which gave birth to an achy body which gave birth to clogged ears and an inability to breathe like a human being is meant to breathe. And the good news of all that is that at least SOME PART of me is able to give birth. I tried to ride it out, thinking it was just a cold, but after 11 days and being asked by everyone in my life to repeat what I was saying no less than 3 times because they could not hear me while I felt like I was screaming, I went to the dr. and got some Zpac. Within 24 hours, I began to feel better. It has been 48 hours now and I am feeling EVEN better.

It was really difficult these last two weeks not feeling well, but still being the only parent to care for the boyz. They are getting older and don't require as much help. They dress themselves. They put away their own laundry after being told only 15 times to do so. They can start and finish their own showers after being told only 11 times to do so. They can make their own breakfast and put their own dishes in the sink - sometimes even the dishwasher. BUT, they cannot do their own homework. They cannot make their own dinner. They cannot make it to the bus on time without someone assisting them with lunches, backpack packing, and time monitoring. They would leave the house dressed for 50 degrees when it is in the single digits. They cannot practice their spelling words without someone assisting them. They would not read unless someone encouraged them to do so and listened to them do it. They cannot take themselves to and from their extracurricular activities.

So, as you can see, regardless how I feel, there are still things that require adult interaction in the home. Being the only adult in this home, the process of elimination is quite simple.

I rarely get sick. Or if I do, it is usually something minor like seasonal allergies or a pesky cold that doesn't really affect much of my everyday life except my dignity with the constant nose blowing. This was the first time I have been sick for more than a day or two since Brian died.

I cannot tell you how much I missed Brian these past two weeks. The mere thought each day as 3:00 would draw closer knowing the boyz were coming home filled me with dread. I hate that I felt that way, but I did. Knowing that the responsibilities were still there with no one to share in them was such a daunting thought. There was no one to help with dinner and no one to help with homework or to arrange many of the boyz' rides and schedules for their activities or to help with the laundry that was piling up or to tuck them in at night - knowing all those things were still left for me had me in tears a couple of times this week. I hate those moments because I really am a strong person. Physical weakness begets emotional weakness sometimes, too.

Also, I missed knowing someone was available to take care of ME. I know how selfish that sounds. I missed knowing that Brian would walk in that door, do his best to take the reigns and still have enough in his tank to just BE with me if I wanted it. I missed knowing that he would come home, see me in all my chapped, congested, hacking horror, still LOVE me and make sure I KNEW IT. WOW, how I missed that comfort - that PRESUMED love.

So, it hasn't been a great couple of weeks.

• Gavin did the worst on this spelling test than he has ever done.
• I think Grant spent more time in his room in time-out these past 2 weeks than in the past year. I don't have enough hindsight clarity to determine if that was because I was not feeling well and lacked patience or if it was because he knew I wasn't feeling well and tried my patience.
• Both boyz lost screen and snack privileges just about every day this week due to attitudes and fighting. (See above comment regarding hindsight clarity again.)
• We were late to every single appointment and activity they were part of this week. Or frantically rushing to be on time. (Actually, that isn't a stretch from a normal day.)

I feel like I failed the boyz a bit. I also know we will survive. If I have learned nothing else the last 13 years, it is that I am a survivor. It is just strange how difficult it feels to survive when one is fighting health issues and just doesn't feel like it.

It is in that realization that I cannnot comprehend how Brian maintained his attitude and good-nature all those years - how he believed in his survival as his body failed him over and over, how he always reserved some of himself for others around him - for me, the boyz, his family, his friends, his work. Truly, as I fought to control my own emotions this last week, I was ONCE AGAIN amazed at the character of that man.

Maybe that is the greatest lesson in all this.

KEEP BELIEVING

what's wrong with me?

I am beginning to think something must be wrong with me. When I look back and think about my loss of my beloved Brian, I am not overwhelmed with sorrow. In fact, when I reminisce as I did this past weekend with relatives about what happened this week last year - which was when Brian began showing increasing signs of confusion and loss of balance and we made the transition from fighting to live to preparing to die - I didn't even cry. When I shared with my family and friends some details regarding the boyz' struggles and issues, I didn't even tear up. My loved ones did. I didn't.

I can't help but wonder what is wrong with me. How could I be so cold? I can't help but wonder if THEY wonder what is wrong with me. "How could she be so unfeeling? It hasn't even been a year."

Or could it be that I live with this emptiness every day? Could it be that I am farther in my grief process because the loss of Brian was such a sharp contrast to my everyday living, therefore forcing me to accept faster in order to carry forward effectively? Could it be that when others see me they are instantly reminded of Brian causing them to face some emotions they don't feel on an everyday basis because Brian's absence didn't affect their everyday living? Or could it be that I am suppressing my own grief?


What bothers me the most is that given the awesome marriage I had to Brian, given the amazing mutually satisfying relationship we shared, my loss is immense. Shouldn't the proportion of that loss drive my despair? Or could it be because of our healthy, loving, respectful connection, I feel equipped to move on easier? Could it be that the love Brian and I shared for each other and for our God outfitted me with the ability to peacefully and happily reflect upon my life with Brian as a blessing that will guide my future rather than mourn what will never be? Could it be that I absorbed a portion Brian's infectious positive attitude choosing happiness and contentment right now rather than more sadness and guilt?

I don't know the answer.

What I do know is that some days I feel badly for not being more emotional over my loss.

Some days I don't.

KEEP BELIEVING

Dear Gavin, Dear Grant

Dear Gavin,

Yes, honey, I realize that you have a stuffy nose. I do. I am sorry for this. I also realize that a stuffy nose can make it difficult to breathe. YES, GAVIN, I know your nose won't let you sleep. And YES, I know that stuffy noses occasionally will release a little bit and drip. So, USE THE FREAKING TISSUES I KEEP GIVING YOU. Now that you are 8, it would be VERY beneficial to you to learn to BLOW your nose. We breathe in through our mouth because of that whole stuffy nose thing - you know, so the air can actually get INTO your lung since your nose won't allow a clear pathway for it - and we blow OUT our nose. NOT the other way around. Holy Cow, dude. JUST BLOW! BLOW! Okay, mommy is going to have another beer cup of coffee and try again.

Also, Gavin? It doesn't STINKING MATTER WHO ATE THE FIRST POP TART OUT OF THE PACKAGE OF TWO. The other one does not have cooties and isn't pre-destined for the original opener of the package. You can eat it. No, you may NOT open another box or bag just because a perfectly fine single pop-tart that is nicely baggied and awaiting consumption was first touched by your brother. GET OVER IT!

I do love you. Really,
Mommy


-------------------------------
Dear Grant,

Now that you are 6-1/2, it is time to work on your oral fixations. You REALLY need to keep your thumb out of your mouth. Your teacher says you suck a lot all day and is constantly reminding you. I remind you all day, but it appears these reminders are insufficient. And it isn't so much that I know this isn't going to be a difficult habit to break, it is that you are a total stinking, bad-attitude BOOGER about it. The thing is, lately, it has become even more than your thumb. If you thumb is not in your mouth, then your collar is in your mouth. You have stretched out and stunk up more shirts than I care to admit. And NOW? Now that we are constantly in long sleeves, you seem to think that your shirt sleeve needs to be in your mouth.

And just sucking is not enough. Now you bite your sleeves. And put holes in them. Awesome. Because the average 1-2 pairs of pants that come home with holes in them due to the fact that you spend more time rolling around on the floor than you do on your feet during any activity (wrestling, riding a scooter, jumping on tramp, playing tag, playing soccer, playing basketball) wasn't enough. Realizing that I am not going to buy you an average of 1-2 new pairs of pants per week, I must either tolerate the judgments that most people think I don't know that my child has dressed himself in hole-ridden clothes or the sideways glances of those that see your tattered wardrobe.

How about a piece of gum? Oh yeah, then the oral fixation become a hand fixation. And the gum doesn't STAY IN YOUR MOUTH!

I do love you. Really,
Mommy

KEEP BELIEVING

something that bugs me

Some days it bothers me that everyone, myself included, trivializes what Brian endured as though it were MY cross and burden. This may not make sense, but it seems as though Brian's illness is often equated to a pawn in the chess game of MY life rather than his own, like his slow decline and his eventual inability to get around and speak was something I had to endure. Just because he died, his illness was still HIS illness. How he handled it and how he carried on despite it all can never be discounted. I guess part of this bothering me is how quickly everyone, including myself, seems to forget Brian. I worry his mark on this earth will be falsely credited to me.



Does this make any sense?



KEEP BELIEVING

randomocity...

A few random thoughts and events.

1) My van has fruit flies. I know fruit flies need some sort of feeding/mating/breeding/hatching ground. The thought of finding whatever in my van that is their feeding/mating/breeding/hatching ground is more disturbing to me than the fruit flies. So, I live with the fruit flies now.

2) Grant lost his front tooth yesterday - the one that has been dangling from one side for two weeks, but would not fall out. A neighbor popped him in the mouth with a toy gun. Wish I had thought of that. Or that it was legal. I KID. I KID!

3) My kids awoke at 5:30 today. Well, one did. He was crying that his lost tooth was gone from his pillow, but nothing was there. I told him to check again. Turns out, when he turned on the light, he found a huge pile of fairy dust that looks a lot like glitter leftover from his last project and $2. His squeal woke up Gavin. Neither fell back asleep, but Grant laid his head back down very happily on the other side of the bed. That fairy dust was too messy. Now I am washing his stinkin' sheets that I just washed 3 days ago. Damn tooth fairy!


4) I miss cooking. I am no longer good at it. Groceries rot in my fridge.

5) Lately my kids are driving me nuts. They are whining and fighting and seem to have a severe case of cabin fever. And it is only NOVEMBER. Thanksgiving at my mom and dad's with room to roam should be proper medication for this fever.

That's it for now.

KEEP BELIEVING

just a general update

I got nothing. Really, I have been feeling so uninspired to write lately.

I thought I would just give you a general update on our lives.

GAVIN:

Second grade is going okay for him. He isn't showing as much interest in reading as he needs to as this is really the last year they "learn to read." Next year, they "read to learn," so he needs to start picking up the pace on this. Getting the kids to read is a constant challenge. He is right at state requirements, but a little low for the class. Not the bottom, though, so he won't get any extra school help. Math is getting harder as they have started borrowing in subtraction. Gavin isn't great at subtraction - he always has to use the number line or his fingers. Brian's aunt, a dear, sweet, wonderful, lady who also happens to teach first grade, has offered to start coming over on Wednesdays to work with boys boys on school work a bit. I think this is a great idea to give them a fresh look at homework and to give me a break. And they really like Zach's grandma Deb.

Gavin is home sick today with a fever for the third time in about 7 weeks. He seems to get sicker these days than any of us. He still eats terribly, so I swear that his immune system is weakened. Sometimes he scares me because he always looks a bit peaked and gray to me.

Gavin is continuing counseling for a while. When I told him we were wrapping up our sessions because counseling is not supposed to be forever, he freaked out and started carrying stuffed animals around all the time and sleeping with Daddy's things again saying he can't stop because he is still sad. I explained it was okay to be sad and he will FOREVER be sad some, but he was okay. The counselor and I agreed that despite losing our insurance coverage and going to private pay, we will continue until it appears the decision comes more from Gavin. Also, the group where we attend counseling is introducing a support group for 8-12 year-old's who have experienced a significant loss. I think this will be great for Gavin.

GRANT:
First grade for Grant is going about the same as second is for Gavin. He doesn't love to read, but needs to do more of it. I have been very concerned about him academically, but have noticed in the last two weeks, he seems to be making great strides in his printing and some decent strides in his reading. His teacher informed me that is common after the first quarter. In the end, I did not do much academically with the boys all summer, so it is no wonder they would be a bit lost when school started again.

Grant is doing well with his grief. We all had a hard week the week of Brian's birthday. Halloween, the announced end of counseling, Brian's birthday all falling together took every one of us to a bit of a melt down stage. We all three had some crying episodes. And we were all there for each other. We all understand this need for each of us to express this in any way we can at often very random times. Grant is finished with his counseling, but he still sees the school counselor.

Grant is my protector. When he sees me crying, he sniffs, puffs up his chest, comes to me and immediately hugs me gently and firmly. After he does this for a while, he THEN asks me what is wrong. Do you have any idea how WISE and comforting that is?? To not have to explain why you are crying when you sometimes don't KNOW why you are crying anyway and to just have an unconditional loving pair of arms there to hold you and allow you to cry? I tell him he is never more like Jesus than when he is like that. Anyway, he usually waits til I calm down then gets me a tissue or asks if I need some water or writes me a note and brings it to me a few minutes later. He is so incredibly sweet inside that very rough outer surface. I love that boy.

ME:
I have been good. I struggle with creativity and motivation. I don't cook much anymore as I have stated in the past. I have been working out a lot trying to lose some of the 15+ pounds that I gained since 2008 that I had lost in 2006. I am making strides suddenly with that. I often forget to eat. Seriously, some days it is 2:00 and I realize I am starving because I have not eaten since yesterday at 2:00. I am trying to get better at eating at least little bits all day if not full meals.

I am leading a Bible Study now to my group of women from my Mom's group at church. I am very excited and we will have our first discussion on Thursday. Please pray for me. I have never led a Bible Study from beginning to end. It is called Wisdom for Mothers. It concentrates on your relationships in life starting with God, your spouse, your children and your service - IN THAT ORDER. I am super passionate about your relationships being prioritized IN THAT ORDER and especially a mother's relationship with her spouse. It seems we as moms often fall into the trap of putting our spouse on the back burner and focusing on our children.

I have been doing well in my grief. Not sure what the holidays will bring. I may attend a seminar this weekend put on by Hospice about tips on how to handle the holidays. As my wonderful dear wise counselor has stated, this year is my road map. I am figuring out what moments in time are difficult, what events or situations remind me of Brian, and what works for handling it all.

I have been doing a lot of reflecting on "what was I doing this time last year." My counselor says this is very normal. I have been a bit flooded with emotions around this time. It was last October that we found out the tumor had been growing despite the second chemo. It was this week last year where I had the worst, then best, then worst, then best week of my life ever.

It was the first week of November last year when we thought Brian was dying. He had excruciating headaches, loss of balance, little blackout spells and confusion. He had pressure in his ventricle and after a whirlwind 3-1/2 day stay in the hospital, he had a shunt installed and walked out of the hospital a new man who lived over 4 more months.

It was during this hospital stay that my mom took the boys to her house for the weekend because Gavin had a fever and we didn't want to risk his getting Brian sick while we were so unsure what was happening in the hospital - making this horrific decision to spend time apart not knowing how much time Brian had left. Brian got home from the hospital on Saturday afternoon. I picked up the boys on Sunday morning. Gavin was still so sick - going on 4 days now with almost no food or water intake. Then, at 2:00 am, I could no longer handle watching him moan and shiver with a 104 fever. I was not waiting for the 8:30 am office to open. I knew he needed more. We went to the ER and he was admitted a few hours later after he kept nothing down and his fever could not easily be controlled.

Little did I know when I left that hospital at 1:00 on Saturday, I would be back 19 hours later for another 3-1/2 day stay WITH MY SON and I would once again have to decide which family members to spend time with. You can't imagine how incredibly painful that is for a mom, a wife and a caregiver. Just thinking about it right now floods me with tears. My counselor says this is so normal. She likens it to a soldier's post traumatic stress disorder. At the time, you are in survival mode just doing exactly what you need to do to get through the day and take care of those that need to be taken care of. Then, you think back on it and can't believe you survived it. It haunts you.

Anyway, other than that, things are going well. Still building my road map. Still figuring out trigger points. Coming to terms with moving on, but with little guilt. Praying for guarding of my heart as I consider dating again. Trying to rekindle friendships and family relationships. Starting some new friendships. Beginning to think about what to get the boys for Christmas and what new traditions we can begin. Contemplating. Analyzing. Playing. Praying. Living.

KEEP BELIEVING

two steps forward, one step back...

I don't know if you have noticed or not, but to me when I read over the last 7 months of posts, I notice a slight trend in the overall mood of this blog. As I read, I notice that the first several weeks after Brian's death were full of, "I don't feel like doing this" mentality. My mentality is changing a bit to not wanting this for anyone else, to understanding that it does get easier, to simply forcing some mood changes at home.

The forced smiles are working. Strange therapy, I realize, but honestly, I have heard enough sermons on the topic and been in enough Bible studies to know that there is JOY to be claimed even when your heart is hurting and your whole body doesn't feel like rejoicing. JOY is still abundant. And Christ wants JOY in our lives. You can still have joy even if you have a bad marriage. You can still have JOY even if you are fighting illness. You can still have JOY even if you are oppressed and mistreated. You can still have JOY when you have been told you are dying. And you can still have JOY when what you thought was your future left this world without you 7 months ago.

(one step forward)

In the past 6-8 weeks, since around the second week of September, my mindset has been shifting a bit. I have started focusing more on what lies ahead instead of what just happened. I find my thoughts looking more towards my potential future rather than mourning the future I had planned - one that included Brian.

(one step forward)

The kids and I are in a better routine. The schoolwork is probably the biggest challenge. Honestly, they both struggle a bit - especially Grant right now. That is very difficult for me because I lack patience in this arena. I am praying for patience and gentleness in this aspect of my life so I can be a better teacher and mom to the boys since this will be a huge part of their lives for years to come. Honestly, I get Grant so frustrated with my lack of patience, that he sometimes claims he wants to go back to Kindergarten. My problem is that I never really struggled in school. I didn't have to work hard for many years and when I did, if I just applied and practiced and did some homework problems, I pretty much "got it." (except Dynamics [shudder]). So, I don't "get" "not getting it." Clear as mud? That's what I thought. I've had a couple friends offer to work with Grant independently, so pending the outcome of his conference on Thursday, I may hold them to that offer.

(one step back)

Still, other than the homework, the boys and I are finding our groove. I have implemented a 'no screens' rule (video games, computer, TV) on Mondays-Thursdays. There is no Spongebob to compete with teeth-brushing time in the mornings. They come home and do homework immediately with no ICarly tempting them in the background. And they PLAY with TOYS in the evenings. Well, sort of. They usually set them all up in some sort of never-ending war of the worlds they have created in the basement. A war that makes it very difficult to get from point A to point B. Point A being the bottom of the stairs and Point B being ANYWHERE IN THE REST OF THE BASEMENT due to their elaborate traps, battle zones, MASH tents, headquarters, etc. I do love watching their imaginations at work, but I do LOATHE the resulting mess.

(one step forward)

The boys are almost finished with their counseling sessions. The counselor thinks we have done a great job in processing their grief, which is obviously ongoing, and are equipped to continue. I, strangely, was more worried about Grant who seemed to suppress his emotions a bit in the last several months - since mid-summer. The counselor suggested that he did not see anything alarming in Grant, rather that perhaps Grant was farther along in his grief process. Last week, during Grant's session, he finally spoke of Daddy. He claimed, as he does to me all the time, that he does not miss Dad. This initially broke my heart when he made this proclamation to me this summer. Still, he told the counselor again he did not miss Dad. And upon further discussion (through a game) he told the counselor that his Daddy wasn't hurting anymore. It must have been very difficult for Grant to come home from Kindergarten every day at lunch time last year and watch his Daddy - his male role model, his protector, his human superman - slowly deteriorate. Kids in essence want their parents strong and happy. Anyway, Grant was able to process what was happening to Brian as he witnessed it first-hand with me last Fall and Winter. And he has come to terms with it as being okay for him and okay for Brian. In the end, that is the place we all need to be.

(one step forward)

I do miss Brian immensely right now. I miss the laughter he brought to my life with his sarcastic, dry, witty comments. He was great at a quick one-liner. And he thought I was funny. To get a laugh these days, I have to do things like this: While Gavin was practicing typing his spelling words last week (another medium we try to use to change up the mundane task of printing the same 15 words 4 days a week), I took MY turn. I printed the words: "Gavin is a poopy head." Which had Grant in stitches. Then I typed: "Grant is a fart-face." Which had Gavin in stitches and opened a can of worms I wish had stayed sealed shut with what they continued to type the rest of the evening. Still, that is the level to which I have to resort to get a laugh.

(neither forward nor back, or is that just back??)

Also, I miss having a driver. I have been to my parents' (4 hours one way) twice since the last weekend of September. This past weekend we went to Indiana to see McKenna get baptized. (4 hours one way) This weekend, we are going to Paducah, KY to see Kevin, Heather and the kids in their new house (at least 5 hours one way). In two weeks, I am going to St. Louis (3 hours one way). All that driving and being the only driver gets really old. I long to be a passenger again - reading, taking care of snacks and movies for the kids, channel surfing or manning the IPOD, telling Brian he is driving too slow, complaining about the route Brian chose, you know, all that kind of passenger stuff...

(one step back)

Also, I miss Brian's touch. Oh my LORD, how I miss being touched by him. I miss simply holding his hand. I miss his warmth next to me at night and intertwining our feet while we slept. I miss resting my head in his lap on the couch while he played with my hair. I miss snuggling in the crook of his arm. And yes, I mean I miss his touch in every other way your mind is taking you right now. Holy Cow, if someone could just tell me how to shut this off, I would really appreciate it. Honestly, I PRAY for these desires to flee me. And I can't believe I am sharing this with you, but I was NOT prepared for this part.

(one step back)

I have done a lot of road time as I outlined above and I am soon to do even more road time. One of the things this ROAD TIME allows is opportunity to think. WAY TOO MUCH TIME TO THINK. Since the kids pretty much watch movies the entire way, my mind just marches all over the world and back again. I think about Brian and how I miss him. But, mostly, when I think of Brian now, I smile. My memories of Brian are good ones now. I am not so consumed with the week of his death as I was. I am not so much caught up in my guilt of how I stopped believing in his healing. I think about the man he was. I think about how inspiring he was. I think about the silly things he said and did. When I think of him, I smile more than cry. From what I research, that is a pretty big step in grieving.

(one step forward)

I, also, think about the future. As I stated before, when I think about the future I now think about a different future instead of pitying myself for the future that won't be. I think about where I want to live. I still don't know. Part of me wants to go back to St. Louis to be closer to my family. I have not lived in the same state or within 4 hours of my family since 1995. I would love to experience that. But, I know it is not so easy to just pick up and go somewhere I haven't lived in 15 years. And, to do that, would be to take on an identify in my world of 'single mom of two boys.' It would no longer be - 'Angie, widow of Brian.' I am not ready to take on my identity without Brian, yet.

(neither forward nor back)

Also, when I think about the future, I think about the boys and me. I really don't want to be alone. Right now, I MAY be saying that more from the loneliness I feel every day and from the human desires I spoke of a few paragraphs above. (is anyone still reading this far along anyway?). Still, when I think of myself in the future, I don't see myself alone. I think when you experience a love like Brian and I had - a mutual, respectful, nurturing, physical, encouraging, spiritual, Christ-centered LOVE - you can't help but want part of that again. It is not a desire to replace that love. It is not a desire to redirect loneliness. It is simply a desire to love again.

In the right time...

When my confusion is less and my priorities are better in line with Christ-like thinking...

If God wills it....

TMI???

I also think about what Brian would want for me and the boys. I credit Brian solely on my ability to begin a new outlook on the future for two reason. First of all, we were blessed in that we were able to have these conversations for years due to our circumstances. I know he wanted a new future for me and the boys. He spoke of it even while believing in his own potential future. And in knowing that, the guilt of thinking about it is subdued. Also, Brian rarely looked out on his life and lamented the "could have beens." Rather, he concentrated on the "here and nows" to get to where he wanted to be. He did not allow the fog and cycle of self-pity to enter his daily regimen of a good attitude and a positive outlook. I have no doubt if this situation were reversed, and it was I who had passed on to heaven, he would rejoice for where I was and would pick up the shattered pieces of his broken heart excited about the next adventure in his life. If I were in heaven, isn't that what I would want for him and my boys on earth until they joined me?

(one step forward)

Thanks for listening.

And now for something completely different....

That was for you, Babe. You LOVED it. Hopefully, Sean and John will appreciate it today and see a bit of you in it.

And even more different...

A few pictures because I haven't posted one in a long time...

Grant taking a pic of me doing a cartwheel. That's my game face. If only I could get my abs to be as cut as my calves. I'm working on it.

P.S. Yes, I am geeky enough to make sure I had a 2 to 1 ratio of forwards to backs. I may not keep a very clean house, but when the math doesn't add up, I have a sleepless night.

P.P.S. I would have chosen a different picture of myself, but since the camera went swimming in the lake in July, I have taken only a handful of photos and this is the most recent of me. AND, I wanted you to see that I still do cartwheels despite being 37 AND despite my grief. Sometimes there is no better therapy than a curse word or a cartwheel.

KEEP BELIEVING

how things seem to go in my life

I cannot tell you how often the most simple mundane events in my house evolve into complete disasters.

The kids were sick Monday evening causing them BOTH to miss Cub Scouts causing me to somehow find the time to make up BOTH events so they can earn the right to advance to the next level before the end of the year. Actually, they can still advance, but without the badge, and let's face it, they are in it for the bling.

I had to keep them home from school on Tuesday causing me to cancel the very first Bible Study that I am going to be leading.

Last night, I got my hair done, so grandma babysat for the kids. They did not do their reading and Gavin did not wear his protective garments to bed. Naturally, he wet the bed after batting over .500 for staying dry lately. Of course, I forgot all about the sheets until he reminded me around 30 minutes til bedtime tonight - delaying bedtime.

Today, I was not feeling well. Naturally, the kids had two days of sick energy built up causing them to be loud, obnoxious, rambunctious and half insane causing my headache to reach near splitting levels. And they missed the bus this morning because they were moving at record slow speeds.

This evening, Grant had a coughing spell that led to a gagging fit causing him to vomit a bit and spiral into a complete melt down freaking the heck out. And add to my laundry load. At bed time.

And then after bedtime, listening to Grant continue to cough, I decided to give him some cough medicine. He always requests a drink after ingesting said medicine, so I had him come to the bathroom to drink out of the faucet to save myself a trip to the main level to grab a cup. As I was giving him the cough syrup, he didn't drink it fast enough and it spilled all over his chest and left a splatter pattern on the carpet resembling a gory murder scene. So, I had a complete and total temper tantrum in front of my kids screaming and carrying on about how NOT ONE $&^% THING CAN GO SMOOTHLY AROUND HERE EVEN STUPID *&%$ SIMPLE THINGS. And I threw the towel I was using to clean up and stomped my feet a few times and then calmed down. Only to do it ALL OVER AGAIN when I realized that getting the cough syrup out of the carpet was a more daunting task than removing the paint I spilled on the carpet last week. So now I have an ammonia soaked towel that needs to be washed because I cannot stand the smell of it. Adding to my laundry load. At Bed Time. All of which could have been avoided if I had just gone downstairs for a cup of water to give after the medicine.

And I had to redo bedtime because I had to ask for forgiveness from the kids for the array of 4-letter words I emitted into the already ammonia polluted air in our house. All the while not feeling well.

Honestly, this is how my every day life goes all the time. I couldn't possibly make this up.

Like the time that Gavin came into my room in the middle of the night late this summer, and I had JUST read in my parenting book when your kids come into your room in the middle of the night over 75% of the time, it is due to a bathroom need. Instead of urging him to use the bathroom, I rolled over and invited him in. He fitfully slept the remainder of the night which meant I BARELY slept the remainder of the night. The next morning, he and my sheets were wet. Of course, we had someplace to be that morning, so I had to rush his shower and my shower. I had to wash my sheets and my mattress pad that I had just washed two days prior on the day that I had already separated a very neglected laundry hamper into 7 loads. My mattress pad is too big for my dryer, so I draped it over the deck to dry. When I retrieved it from the deck, it snagged on the railing. I had to spend 30 minutes pulling splinters out of my mattress pad that I had bought about 1 month prior.

It is in times like those that I struggle to find JOY.

And Grant is still coughing.

KEEP BELIEVING

Don't join the club...

Honestly, there are many days when I resent you. Yes, you random reader, who have no idea how lucky you have it. Last year when the first graders would bring home their journals from school and your kids would have random writings about unicorns and princesses and fairies and spaceships and dogs, MY first grader was bringing home a journal that said things like this:
------------------------------------




One day, I went to the chrch and I sol my Dad. My Mom was crying. Then some people brot my Dad to the plas wher a caskit gets dug in the grawnd. Then I strted to cry to.





One day my Dad dide wan I was at my ants hous. Then when I got home I do not no what I did whin I got home.





One day my mom wos crying about my Dad. Then after my mom stopt crying we fixt ouwr tramprlen. Then my mom strted to cry agen. Then I sed wat is the mater mom. (in response to this day)



One day I sol my Dad in a cascit. And I felt his head And it was cold. And I sol a pichr of my Dad. And I love him. And I want him bak for evre.


And he drew THIS picture.


----------------------------
I bet most of your kids don't even know what a casket is or what it looks like. Regardless, I bet your kids are drawing pictures of their dads playing catch or reading books or mowing the lawn or playing golf. No, MY first grader? MINE? He was drawing a picture of his dad in a casket.


And if you were reading last month, you already know what MY kids were doing on an after-school afternoon while yours were eating snacks and doing homework.


So, I sometimes resent you and your normal life. Sometimes I think I just want to be surrounded by others who are like me.


And you know what MY kids did this Autumn Saturday while your kids were playing football, were at the movies or were playing video games? My kids were at camp. Camp Courageous, that is. A camp put on by one of our local hospice agencies for kids who have experienced a significant loss in their lives. And I resent you and your normal Saturday activities while my kids were at a camp for which the entire premise is A CHILD'S TRAGEDY.



I can only hope that my children took comfort in realizing they are not the only children living without a parent. I can only pray that they felt good knowing that their "normal" is the same "normal" many other kids get. Cuz, me? I didn't feel any better about it. I didn't feel any better looking around the room knowing these kids have the same crap to deal with as mine. In fact, the slightly glued together pieces of my broken heart fell apart all over today as I watched two six-year-old girls hold tattered teddies in one hand and grab each others wrists with the other hand delighting that "HER DADDY IS A GUARDIAN ANGEL TOO. WE ARE SO LUCKY!" I can only pray that made Grant feel a bit better to have those girls in his group. Because it didn't make me feel one ounce better.


It made me feel worse.


Then, I went to support a friend in a SHARE WALK she organizes - an event to remember babies lost in miscarriage, stillbirth, or early infant death. Babies who never had a chance to live life let alone experience a loss. I was surrounded by people grieving the loss of a life that was barely, if at all, lived.


When I went to pick up the kids, I found myself sharing "end-of-life, cancer, where do we go from here" stories with a sad, slightly anxious single dad who is left to raise a 6 year old daughter.


As I was resenting you, and wishing I could surround myself with others like me, I looked around the room at 70 kids and many more adults picking them up. I realized, I WAS surrounded by others like me. Others who also don't WANT their kids to be a part of this camp. Other single moms and dads left behind in the wake of tragedy and illness. Other kids just like mine living without moms and dads or aunts, uncles, grandmas and grandpas who were doing the parenting anyway. On the street, I would not have recognized that I was surrounded by those like me. It was only through Camp Courageous and the Sharewalk that I saw our common bonds called grief, loss, anxiety, loneliness, despair, sorrow and fear.


I also realized that as I resent you and your "normal" life and as I wish I could surround myself with others like me, I REALLY DON'T WANT to surround myself with others like me. I WANT you to have your "normal." I don't want others to be in my club. I don't want other kids in my kids' club. That doesn't help anything.


I will stop resenting you because the last thing I want is for you to walk in these shoes.



KEEP BELIEVING

The question I know you all want to ask….

What are Angie and boys going to do now?

I know you want to know. Wanna know HOW I know you want to know? Cuz many people, even barely acquaintances actually have enough gumption to ask me. Others just casually feel me out with indirect questions. Others that know me well expect I just may growl at you if you ask me that.

And I know included in the "What are Angie and the boys gonna do now” question are things like – Employment for Angie – when and how much? Location? House? Can they afford their lifestyle? Benefits? Etc.

And here’s the answer. I DO NOT KNOW.

And it sucks getting asked because I feel like I should know. It isn’t as if Brian’s death was a huge surprise. It isn’t as if I am not logical and intelligent and can’t figure things out.

In fact, I think sometimes my predisposition to over-analyze and logically think through EVERY SINGLE DECISION IN MY LIFE, including what color to paint a bathroom that can easily be repainted, is what is preventing me from knowing exactly what to do from here.

First thing first, though, is that I am exactly identifying my financial status. Since Brian’s death, we have received AMAZING generosity from friends and family. In March, we took a voluntary separation package from Caterpillar that has allowed me to have this time to think things through and figure things out. That being said, Brian and I have always lived within our means, practically and frugally on a budget that had us giving our tithe to church/charity, saving for our future and college and splurging on a few unnecessaries. So, we have no debt except our mortgage putting the boys and me in a better position. I have no doubt that it is our obedience to God’s biblical financial rules yielding this reward today.

However, we cannot go on forever like this. It is just a matter of figuring out exactly how much investment income we can generate in addition to our social security survivor benefits. There will be a shortfall with those two combined, and that will determine when and how much I will have to work. When the boys turn 18, the social security survivor benefit will expire completely and I, then, will have to solely support myself on my income.

There are several factors with determining employment for myself. First of all, I do not feel that I would be a good employee at this exact moment in time during this season in my life. I am easily distracted, have a lack of attention span and cry at the oddest times. So, I want to take a bit more time and give myself time to grieve and come to terms with whatever the heck our new normal is. Once I determine how much of my life is spent doing things for the kids that cannot easily be delegated or requested of friends like homework and quality time and the support they need from immediate family, I can better determine how much I am WILLING to work. However, if finances dictate that the amount I NEED to work exceeds the amount I am WILLING to work, the NEED will outweigh the latter and we will figure out the rest. I do not think we will be forced into that situation, though, barring another market crash.

Additionally, in order to give my boys stability and support, my goal is to work enough for this first couple of years to basically just get by without saving much for MY future. I will always save for college. It was one of my and Brian’s biggest goals to give to our children what our parents gave to us, and that is a college graduation that is debt free. I feel I would be dishonoring Brian to not strive for that. However, once again, if our finances did not allow for it without a huge compromise to our lifestyle and our emotional well-being, I know it would be MORE dishonoring to Brian to compromise OURSELVES for a debt-free college graduation.

There are many factors to consider when contemplating my future employment, not the least of which is the obvious – WHAT would it be. Should I do something related to my experience in accounting, business management and finance? Should I take a less demanding job because we don’t need the money at the risk of getting farther away from my experience and a well-paying job when I DO need to go back to work with a higher paying job when the boys finish high school? Do I just start all over now that I am older and wiser? I just don’t know. I trust that God will provide answers through the right opportunities.

When considering employment, I realize that full-time work would take me away from my boys a considerable amount in a time when they need a lot of direct involvement. They aren’t really capable of doing self-directed, independent homework and won’t be for a few more years. Their homework is family homework and they both need me now to help with this. They want to be involved in a few extra-curricular activities and to add single-parenthood, full-time employment on top of basic school would almost wipe this away. I just don't know how I would swing it all for them and for myself BY MYSELF. I also realize part-time work that meets our financial needs may not be possible. I am not naïve.

Other factors to consider are when and WHERE?

Obviously, the most glaring question many people have is WHERE IS ANGIE GOING TO LIVE WITH THE BOYS? The answer once again, is I DON’T KNOW. For now, we are staying put. I have no intention of going anywhere this school year unless we felt remarkably led by God to do so. I want to give the boys and myself time to figure out life here without Brian. Figure out things like where do I want my boys to call home? Right now they know little other than Central Illinois as home. Figure out things like where can we afford? Figure out things like where do we have the best support system? And that changes daily. It changes as our support system of family and friends have their own changing commitments and lifestyles. Sometimes Grandma and Grandpa are around for a ton of help and sometimes they want to travel. And we want them to. They need to. We don’t want anyone to feel like they are tied here solely because of us. And sometimes friends can help with rides and time with the kids, but then it changes when their own sports, work and extra activities take their time. And that is to be expected because once again, we don’t want anyone to feel like they can’t do their own thing because of us. HOWEVER, if full-time employment is what was necessary for us, I would have to go where I had the best support system and I felt the most comfortable knowing that my kids would be in the care of family and friends A LOT. I, honestly, do not know where that is right now. I am taking this year to figure this all out.

It is no secret that I have no family in Illinois at all. My closest family members are 3 hours away and those are extended family members. CLOSE-KNIT extended family members, but my immediate family is 4 hours away. However, Brian’s family is within a few miles of us, and he has many extended family members also within a few miles of us. But, will this relationship change as things unfold in our lives? I like to think it wouldn’t, but I have witnessed too many examples being on the biological side of a relative's death to know this may be naïve thinking. I know it will take a lot of effort on both our sides to ensure a healthy relationship that allows both sides the graces they need to grieve, live and cope.

Additionally, moving right now to a comfortable support zone of MY family would force me to solely rely on family and very old friends in a place where I have never lived on my own. It would be in a town like St. Louis where I have not lived since I graduated from college, let alone as a parent. Or, if I opted to be closer to my sister and mom, it would put me in a small town environment that I have never been a part of, losing all of the individuality of the friends and connections I have made in Illinois. I would partially be starting all over, all the while determining WHERE to live, WHAT works best for us, not knowing how much support I truly need and IF we can do it here. And you know what? I have great friends here. The best and closest friends I have ever had in my life. I feel connected to them and I feel connected at my church. Starting all that over right now is not overly appealing.

And, to top all this off, I know that the support I need today will differ from the support I need in a few years. The boys’ activities will get more demanding later, but rides MAY be easier to arrange as they age and don’t need parental supervision at Scouts or practices, or it may get more difficult depending on their interests. I don’t know. Also, their homework will become more independent. I will be able to grocery shop or run a few errands without having them in tow in just 3-4 years when they can start staying alone for an hour or two at a time. And that will only increase from then on. Gavin will be in middle school in less than 4 years’ time. AAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!

So, as you can see, YES, I am constantly thinking this through. I have a lot of decisions to make and for right now, just the day-to-day decisions of what to have for dinner are difficult enough to make while we heavily grieve for Brian. Then I have larger, but immediate decisions to make like benefits coverage as our COBRA amount quadruples next month. And how long do the boys stay in counseling now that we have to start paying privately? And I still don’t know for sure what color to paint my bathroom.

And then there is the guilt for knowing that I DO have a college education and am perfectly suited to work a well-paying, full-time job but just not wanting to do it right now because I know it would not be what is best for my kids and me emotionally, but would really make some decisions easier and make saving for college and benefits a no-brainer. (All that experience and education, yet still ridiculous run-on sentences) So, don’t even get me started on feeling under the microscope knowing that my closest friends and family (especially my parents who gifted me with that education) have to be thinking – “Why the heck is she doing this when she is educated and employable?” And I realize that most of the guilt is probably self-inflicted. This is what I do to myself.

But my motto for the last few months and for the next couple will continue to be - "NO BIG CHANGES FOR A YEAR". Different seasons and events unfold different challenges and perspectives.

For future reference, to anyone who is dying to know what someone who is handling a large life-change like a divorce, a death or job loss is going to do from here, DON’T ASK. I know it is well-intended, but I can tell you if they want to talk about it, they will. THEIR THOUGHTS ARE CONSUMED WITH IT ANYWAY. And they don’t want to be in their position of HAVING to think about it at all. (And also to let you know that 12 months ago, I also would have asked anyone that was going through this the SAME questions.) Rather, just say to that person “I know you have a lot of decisions and very difficult choices ahead of you. I will pray for you as you think things through. But, please take the time you need to make informed decisions and if you want to talk things through, I’m here to listen. (Although they will always be willing to talk if you want to tell them about that great part-time, work-from-home, $50,000/year job you have been dying give to them.)” And then – PRAY FOR THAT PERSON AND THEIR DECISIONS.

You can start with me.

KEEP BELIEVING

*edited to add* I didn't write this post to make anyone feel bad for asking me what we are going to do next or for wondering what we are going to do next. I wrote the post so you can have a glimpse into the hundreds of "If- Then's" that enter my mind daily, and to let you know where I am with the decision making. Because honestly? If you haven't walked a few steps in these shoes of mine (and my size 5 wides would not fit many of you, and I pray they never do - literally and metaphorically speaking), you simply wouldn't know how many factors and variables there are to complicate even the slightest decision. Like the fact that I suck at painting, so choosing the wrong color means more work for the friends and family that help me. And that every BIG decision I make right now will greatly impact THREE of us. My children are my first priority in all decisions right now.

FALLing again...

Dear Brian,

I wish I could express to you how life is going without you in a way that wouldn't make you feel bad for leaving us. I can't. I can't tell you that we are doing just fine and getting by alright. We appear to be, but we are all very sad and confused. The boys and I seem to fight a lot amongst ourselves. We all seem to be finding our pecking order and testing each other to see how firm we have to stand before the other will bend.


Our surrounding world is transforming again. From summer to fall. From a time of fun and games to practice and routine. From a time of on-the-constant-go to home and school. It is in this transformation that I miss you most. Realizing once the boys arrive home at 3, that is it for the day. There is no anticipation of Daddy's arrival in a few hours. I sit alone at church. I will go to Back to School Parent's Night alone while the rest of our world handles this familiar routine as a family team. It becomes an effort not to resent them for the unknown ease they have in their lives.

I have always equated Fall and back to school with a a time of immediate family togetherness. The weekends become more important as both mothers and fathers are seeing their children for the only full days of a week. Saturday, after I had breakfast cleaned up and had finished my workout, I slipped outside to bask in the beauty of a glorious Saturday morning. I sobbed, missing you, knowing you would have shared time with me that morning enjoying a cup of coffee planning our day. I cried later that day as I took the boys to the outdoor mall with me. They behaved rather well considering they thought they were supposed to be at a birthday party and not running an errand with me, only to realize I had the wrong day for the party. I rewarded them with some time at the mall playground and Auntie Anne's pretzels. This location was lovingly nicknamed the PRETZEL PARK by you and the boys years ago. It has always been one of your favorite places to take the kids even when you were unable to walk well. I missed having you at the Pretzel Park with us. If found myself crying at your Mom and Dad's house while we celebrated Cheryl's birthday. The pain of seeing couples together sometimes is unbearable. Yet it is comforting. I can't explain it logically.

Yet, today has been a good day. Yes, I miss you today. Yes, I wanted you next to me at church. Yes, at church I find myself especially vulnerable and emotional. Yes, the boys and I are having our issues. But today, I woke and made a conscious decision to make today good. I hate that it has be such an effort to have a good day. I think of you and how you made a conscious effort every single day to get out of bed and make it downstairs. How you had to will your right side to move in rhythm with your left. How you had to stop and think about the words you were about to use every time you formed a sentence. How you did it, though, and never complained. How you rarely lamented about your burdens at all. You would assure me that to do so, was a choice. You made the choice appear effortless.

Brian, you continue to inspire me to make a choice today to have a good day. I pray tomorrow I make the same choice with as much grace as you always did.

I love and miss you, Brian.

KEEP BELIEVING

The truth about why I'm not blogging

The simple, hard truth about why I don't blog these days is this:

When I'm not artificially busy with traveling with the kids and doing kid activities, when the home improvement projects come to an end, when I find the time to have downtime, the fog creeps in.

The fog of loneliness and sadness. The fog of knowing I have to figure out what to do next. The fog of anxiety over what lies ahead - shorter days, more darkness, colder weather. The fog of routine and a new normal that I don't want, that none of us deserve. The fog of the reality from which we have been successfully running all summer.

And starting with school this week, so ends my ability to keep running. The race may continue, but the slowly pacing grief is gaining on me. I know it is a very small matter of time before grief has completely caught up and we run this race side by side.

It scares me.

KEEP BELIEVING

food for thought

I have a B.S. in Engineering. I have passed levels of math from Calc I-Differential Equations. While it did take me three times to successfully obtain a passing grade, I have passed Dynamics determining the force and momentum and speed of objects in motion. I can wire electrical fixtures and outlets. I can even wire a 3-way light fixture and switch. I have worked in different areas of Accounting and Finance and Business Management for Fortune 500 companies. I was selected into a developmental rotational program at a major defense contractor performing various financial and accounting functions. I have presented information to VP's and company executives. I have performed cost analysis to determine the economic viability of capital projects. I was more informed and well-versed on some of the medical terms, side effects and diagnosis codes better than some of the medical staff that treated Brian's very complicated medical case.

SO WHY IS IT THAT I CANNOT SUCCESSFULLY MANEUVER MY SON'S TRANSFORMER FROM A CAR TO A ROBOT AND BACK EVEN WITH THE DIRECTIONS???

KEEP BELIEVING

another nail in your coffin

Dear Brian,

I continue to slowly kill your memory. I am sorry. I do not mean to do this. The world is forcing me. I resent every step I am required to take.

Each week since April, I have taken another step to secure our finances and establish things in MY name.

MY name.

It sounds so selfish. Each time I take the next step, I feel exactly that - SELFISH.

Since you died, the world is forcing me to do all these necessary, SMART, and what it considers to be "logical" things.

Things like close joint accounts and open single accounts.
Things like create a trust.
Things like change beneficiaries on all existing accounts.
Things like change benefits into my name with my social.
Things like change the deed on the house.
Things like change my emergency contact to someone OTHER than my spouse.
Things like take your name off and change my status to WIDOWED on school, medical and other forms.

WIDOWED.

Did you even read that? It looks like a typo doesn't it?


Each time, Brian. I am LITERALLY erasing your name from my concrete world. My checks will soon no longer have your name on them. Our account statements will soon come to MS ANGELA ONEILL and not BRIAN E ONEILL.

It feels so wrong.

I feel guilty doing all that I am. I am sorry for this.

The world is making me do this. The world is forcing me to gradually move on one step at a time. I hate that they won't allow me to take your name along with it. It's as if the world thinks I should get over it already and move on. I truly resent it all right now.

One thing that will have your name on it forever - your headstone.

Yeah, I am 37 years old and I just designed and ordered my husband's HEADSTONE this week.

Of all things to keep your name on it, I could do without that one.

I miss you, Brian. I love you.

KEEP BELIEVING

complicated

Dear Brian,

I am tired of everything being a battle with the kids and between the kids.

But more than that, I am tired of being the only one that is enforcer and referee. Sometimes I just want to close my ears and walk away knowing there is someone else to handle at least this ONE episode. Only there isn't.

And then I have to put on my happy face and take them out in public and then kiss their little heads and put them to bed later.

It is way harder than I thought being the only one to handle these two little boys.

WAY HARDER.

Some days I just want to put my own self to bed early and cry myself to sleep. I don't want to listen to any more whining and fighting and crying and wrestling and breaking and falling and tattling. I don't want to be the only one to enforce and redirect and discipline and tie shoes and run errands and find sitters and watch games and play catch and make dinner and clean up and maintain the house and pay bills. I just want it all to go away. How am I ever going to go back to work and handle all of this, too??

I guess I am just feeling deserted, overwhelmed and lonely lately.

I miss you so much, Brian. I love you.

KEEP BELIEVING

breakthrough

Dear Brian,

Tonight, I had a breakthrough. I did something I have not yet felt comfortable doing without you.

I watched some of our favorite TV comedies on DVR (from March) on your my 60 inch big screen in the basement. I have not watched TV in the basement on your my TV since your death.

And you know what? It didn't totally suck. I barely even cried.

That's a small breakthrough, right?

I miss you terribly, Brian. I love you.

KEEP BELIEVING