When Palm Trees Fall

So, recently I wrote about my Race Day Reflection as if it was some major turning point and I was 'done' with the hard part. Well, that was partially true.

Two years ago, I put in a new patio which required me to move Reid's favorite plant in the yard; the palm tree. This tree has a funny background as we had no idea how big it was going to get and quickly outgrew it's spot- right against the house. He cared for it, trimmed it up, researched palm trees in Washington state and it continued to grow.

But I had to move it and it fit it's new location perfectly. I could see it from my kitchen window, it shaded my new patio nicely and made some good whispering noise when the wind blew in it. I LOVED living with it every day. So, when it showed signs of sickness, I tried a few different things, with no luck. Finally, one day, after my race day reflection, I pushed it to see how sturdy it was. I pushed it right over. With ease, it fell to the ground. It was done. His favorite palm, my comforting shade and afternoon whispers- done. Gone. Forever. Seeing it laying there triggered emotions. But wait, I'm done with these waves, right? I closed that chapter, right?

That night, I went to my friends house (conveniently located across the street). I provided the bottle of wine and she provided the tissue box. How could this be hitting me like this 3 years into this life?! I just had this milestone and here I am like it's day 1. As always, she was completely reassuring as she drew from her, unfortunately, own extensive grief experience.

Here's the difference. I didn't stay there. It was just a quick reminder that it never goes away but it does get easier and is less frequently so disruptive. Sure, the unexpected trigger will get you but it is much easier to see it, feel it, experience it and then, walk away from it.

When palm trees fall, give yourself the grace to feel it and then get it hauled away and return to that best life you are trying to live. They want you to. 

 

Race Day Reflection

Something happened to me on Race Day that I have really struggled to put into words. Maybe it was Reid's work, maybe my Dad, maybe God, maybe none of those but it was a moving experience. Let me see if I can explain.

It was the 3rd anniversary of his last day. Typically, each day that recognizes that we are further from our life with him than we were the day before is painful. In my new life, I haven't liked this day and New Years day has become my most unfavorite holiday.

But this was different.

I started the race with audio books loaded, wireless headphones charged and ready for one of the most challenging walks I do. Less than a mile into it, the headphones were off. I had this overwhelming need to really comprehend the memories flying through my mind. To do something with them..

This was so different.

My youngest daughter learned, at 12 years old, what the uncertainty of illness can do to a family. She didn't know who was going to pick her up from school, she didn't know if Dad would be home planning dinner or if she would be doing her homework in a hospital room....again. She learned the relief of a possible answer to make her Dad all better and the heartache when he was suddenly taken from us before he could be saved. Then she learned grief. She worried constantly about how we were going to move forward. If this new life as the daughter of a single Mom meant a life full of financial struggles or if this sadness in the air would last forever. She learned this all silently as she developed the courage to talk about him months later. She was 13.

Of course I thought of all of this but my memories quickly turned to all that has become since. Her teen years cannot be defined by illness, death or loss. That is unacceptable to her Dad. She should be celebrated!! She started high school, started driving, continues to crush academics and has been voted team captain by her gymnastics peers. THIS is how she needs to be living and remembering her teen years. This is what he helped guide her to become.

My oldest learned to navigate her Dad's illness from afar while in college. While we tried to balance between protecting her and informing her when we had very few answers ourselves. She learned how he can be grilling some chicken one day and gone the next. She learned how to see him after he was gone. How to feel his presence and inhale it. She learned the challenge of leaving her family weeks later to go back to college, how to get grief support, how to maintain grades, how to maintain her car and how to do all of this without being able to call him. She was 21.

But she did it!!! She graduated from College. She spent months traveling other parts of the world. She started working, exploring, dating.......living. His death cannot define her college years. His life enriched hers tremendously and he deserves that recognition. She deserves to be celebrated.

And me. I have shared and overshared what I have learned about life, death, loss and how to live better because of it. But have I been more stuck than I realized? Maybe but I do believe that is part of the process whether it is a month, a year or a decade. But it was time to celebrate. I have come so far. I have a great relationship with my girls and the rest of my family. I turned 50 as a healthy and active person. I took my daughter to China to the same place he went to pick her up. I smile. I laugh. He would tell me "You're too great to be alone"- but I refused to have that conversation then. Maybe it's something to think about....maybe. Whatever all of "this" is, the message I got was to live right now...this very minute. Celebrate all that is good

All of this happened while it was just me in my own head for 13.1 miles. The next day I booked a camping trip with my girls- the first without him. We finished with a few days in a Sun River condo and road trip home through ghost towns. The 3 of us were amazing together- absolutely amazing. We would casually bring up his name with a smile and figure out the camping duties that were historically his to do.

I am different now.

This was the most transformative experience I've had since his last day. When his brother surprised me at the finish line, as Reid had done before, it felt like Reid was taking me across a different finish line. A change. A new way of living- a fuller way. Maybe it was just his own relief that his girls are not going to be fine but great.

I don't think I found the words to do this experience justice but I hope it can give somebody hope who is currently deep in grief. When you are ready, your mind and heart will open in some unexplainable way that will allow you to enter the next chapter of life.......when you are ready.

It's OK to be Happy!

The twists and turns of your grief journey are what make yours unique. You are the only one that has your specific memories, places, songs, history that can surprise you when you least expect it or even when you most expect it. 

Our youngest turned 16 this weekend. I find the our kids' birthdays are some of those that really tug at a grieving heart. This was not the way the celebration was supposed to look. Her Dad was to show her how to drive and help her to find the courage to take this next leap in life. Her confidence isn't there no matter how hard I try- but we keep trying. 

This is her 3rd birthday in her fatherless life and I thought I would be hold my breath and guide her through it. But I didn't need to. Happiness does happen and it's OK. I started the day with a pause and I thought about how thankful I was for our 23 years because here I am, guiding this little girl through adolescence into her life as a young adult. How could I not celebrate with my whole heart?! She is thriving and who am I to think our situation is not quite good enough? The day was wonderful. We celebrated her with my family. I shot texts off to her local "dad's side of the family" with the news that she passed her drivers test. She was worth every ounce of happy and we weren't doing it without her Dad in mind. 

I listened to this speaker recently talking about how we don't move on from loss, we move forward with it.  Such an eloquent way to speak such a complicated truth. Don't listen to "it doesn't get easier". It does. It absolutely does. It's not easier because it goes away. It just get easier to move forward with the loss of him. 

We celebrated her sweet 16 and he was with us. She drives his car now and it still says EWU Dad in the back window. It gives me peace. He wants it that way. 

Happy Happy Birthday to our Sweet Girl

Sneaker waves- they aren't all bad

So, it's been 2 years and 10 months and in my previous life, the one where I thought I understood loss but had no idea, I would imagine all is well by now. In fact, I laugh at myself when I looked for grief support for my youngest daughter to help her adjust to life without a Dad and they said the program was a year long. What? A year long? I honestly was hoping to have this wrapped up in a couple of months. I wasn't thinking clearly and, frankly, had no idea what this road looked like.

So, last track meet of the season and my daughter was going to stay and watch her teammates and get a ride home with a friend. It had started raining so I decided to head back. I thought I would pick up a few things at the store so I could have a big pot of chili on the stove for my cold, wet and hungry teen when she got home.  I was seriously in a perfectly fine state of mind. I walked past the greeting cards and felt so on top of things. "Yes, I need to grab a graduation card for Ella", a friend's daughter finishing high school. I grabbed the card and continued towards the registers. But not without first passing the Father's Day Cards.

My heart sunk and suddenly could feel a wave of emotion forcing itself to the surface. I got through the checkout and to my car......and cried. It hit me. In, less than 3 years, I lost the love of my life, followed by his Dad and most recently, my Dad. This is a father's day where I have no Fathers left to visit. Of course, I will celebrate the uncles in my girls' lives but I will not be with their Dad. I will not be with my Dad......and this is NEVER going to change. Those last words...that blast of reality that, as an adult, I should be able to grasp is more overwhelming than I could imagine.

And the wave passes. I didn't like the wave but it was good for me. It forced me to pause. It made me remember that this is all a very big deal. It reminded me how final it is. Maybe somehow deep down, I have been waiting for things to change. I know that makes no sense but what does?

It forced me to give myself some grace.
And then keep going.

If I knew then....

If I knew then, what I know now........

So many ways to complete that statement. It has been one that has struck me in this last couple of years.

I know today is a reminder day for a very good friend- the day she lost her mother. Oh, how she dug deep. How her husband was by her as they took on the job of raising her brothers. I always admired them for their partnership but certainly didn't understand the added dynamic loss threw at them.  I didn't know that, even all these years later, she has evolved in how she spends this day. It has likely gone from a day of consuming sadness to a day of reflection- still sadness of all they can't share. Whatever it is, today is her day to just breath.

It's also the wedding anniversary of another- the day she married her ex-husband. I don't completely understand the grief journey one goes through in divorce- but now I know it is real.  And for her, that man is no longer living. What complex emotions there must be for her and the challenge of guiding her grown children through theirs.

I saw a picture on Facebook today, of all days, of a lady who lost her husband when her three girls were small. I have thought of her countless times through the years and never told her. They are all gorgeous adult women now. I didn't admire her courage nearly enough then. I know now and am in awe of all she has done and the happiness they have found. I know that knowing there are people thinking of you is healing.

If I knew then, what I know now.....well, I didn't so I can just move forward with what I have learned.

Live it Because You Can

This is NOT my favorite picture but I am thrilled I have it. It was our last Christmas and we had a blast. We opened our home to people beyond our traditional family party and included old friends, new friends and friends of friends. We made 18 different dishes from around the world, drank good wine and had so much fun. Did we do it because it was our last holiday? Our last time to host this crazy party? No! We didn't know that, of course. Oh, there was all kinds of concern about what was going on and why he had to stop and get some blood the day before this picture but we lived the moment because it was there to live.

 I'm not going to give you the proverbial "hug your loved ones because you never know if it is the last time". No- hug your loved ones because you can! Attend events that happen ONE time a year! Laugh often.  Go to the silly ornament exchange because you can! Drive aimlessly looking at lights so your passengers very young, very old and in between can be amazed. Visit for no reason, use your phone as a phone, text just because, go for a walk with no destination in mind. Live because this moment right now is here to live. You WILL regret times wasted in hostility, I promise. But don't make avoiding regret your purpose. Don't spend your time inventing reasons to avoid people but realize the reasons you shouldn't.

The moment is now. Create happiness. Be alive. They are here right now  and those who aren't, want this for you.

Further Away From Then

One emotion that has really caught me off guard is this desire for time to stand still. Most of this journey, I have wanted it to fly by- get me to a point where this is way behind me and I am doing ok again. But now, it's different. With each day, I am further away from the world that Reid was in. And I continue to be in disbelief that...............he doesn't exist. I should get it by now but every once in a while, I am blindsided by that reminder.

I recently had a work trip to the mother ship in Chicago. In the past several months, there have been many new people join the team- of course. That's how it goes when the world keeps on moving. I sat there in a meeting completely distracted by the fact that many of the people in the room don't know my story. They have never heard me talking about the house project that Reid and I worked on all weekend or how long we sat in the bleachers of the gymnastics meet on Saturday. They haven't seen pictures of the fish he caught or the delicious lamb he made. They don't know any of this because, in their world, he doesn't exist. They know that I am a single mother of two and they don't know why. Part of me wants to scream the truth. No, I am not divorced. No, the reason I adopted my girls is not because I gave up on the idea of a man in my life. No, I am not married and simply never talk about him. None of this. I am a widow. I hated that word the first time I heard it and have since learned to embrace it.  It is not a word that I want to bring sympathy but one that says I am pretty bad ass at pulling this whole parenting, working, home maintenance, yard work thing off daily. If the others knew this word, then when I talk about my brother-in-law having my girls over for dinner when I am traveling or my Dad picking up my daughter from school- they would admire the dedication of my support system. That one powerful word...widow....says so much.

I digress. They don't know this. They don't know me as somebody's wife. My new neighbors don't know a cul-de-sac where 70's music is blaring out of the garage while he is tinkering with his boat.....and singing loudly. His freshman students will graduate this year and the school will soon be full of kids who have never heard of him- ever. Xia's classmates have never known her to have a Dad....or just how much she adored him.

He doesn't exist and I want to be in the world where he does. I don't want to keep getting further away from it. I want time to stand still yet I also want to live this life like he wants me to. Balancing so much conflicting emotion- just another thing to learn to do.

An Apology

One thing that has really hit me right from the beginning was how, before, I didn’t get it- this grief thing. I feel like I owe everybody I have ever known an apology. I likely said really insensitive things- things I hear people say now. I don’t get offended because I know...they don’t get it.

I never ever knew how consuming it is to completely change your life. I thought of my friends and family who have gone through divorce. I am the first to say that divorce is different but in some ways it’s equally painful. I mean, really, what if Reid had left me because he wanted to live without me- that is just too much to comprehend.

I think of friends and family who have lost their parents and now I realize the void that must leave. I think of friends who have lost spouses long before I did. I just can’t believe they went through all of this so seemingly gracefully. Friends and family who have lost ex-spouses. I certainly discounted the level of grief they went through. If I seemed insensitive, it was unintentional. There is still a void, still an impact and, as a parent, there is still the job of guiding your children through their unique grief journey. I view the loss of the elderly differently now. I think there is a sense that “at least he had a good long life”....of course there is truth in that. But, my Grandma had to completely rewrite the only life she has ever known very late in life. Just because things fall in the ‘right’ order and even when the service is one of a celebration for a long life well lived, it is still difficult to adjust to your new world.

I didn’t get ANY of this. “Not a day goes by that I don’t think of <insert name>”. It rolls of your tongue so easily but I NEVER understood the truth in that. It is absolutely crazy.

Every.Single.Day.

I learned so so much while sharing my life with Reid. His perspective was unique and quite contagious. Now, I continue to learn from him and from the loss of him and continue to grow into a better friend because of it.

Was it Sudden?

It was my first birthday without being treated like royalty as he always would do. My sister-in-law asked about the highlights of my last year-as she does at every birthday celebration. Usually, I love this conversation. Hmmm- It has been a crappy year. Worst ever. But...highlights....let’s see.

I have learned so much about myself. I have learned so much about grief. Recently somebody asked me about my necklace. I am still learning how to answer that question without the awkward shock to the asker. Her response when I told her it was my late husbands fingerprint- “Oh, was it sudden?”. The smart ass in me wanted to say “well, I guess so. I mean he was alive one minute and not the next”.

What an interesting question and why does it matter? I think in our culture it is some way to measure the level of somebody’s grief. How much do they hurt? How many times have I heard or even thought to myself “Oh, she was sick” or “it was a dangerous sport” or “they were separated”- all things to make us believe that the pain is somehow less in these situations. When Reid was sick, we always had the next thing to try, we always had hope. Never did we hear “there is nothing more we can do”. I have always been so thankful for that. I don’t know if I could have faced him having to face that level of certainty. But, wait, isn’t that easier on people? When they know and see it coming? I think my old self possibly thought that-how insensitive I must have seemed to people I adore! Let’s think that through.

Days when Reid would get news that a treatment wasn’t working or that the next option has bad side effects- that hurts.
When he was in tears “I don’t understand this. People are telling me it’s in God’s hands or that prayer works….if that is true, why does any God believe I deserve this?”. That hurts.
When he was learning he needed dialyses “Why did I survive the heart attack?”. “Oh Reid, that would have been horrible on us.”. “It would have been easier on me. This is not how I want this story to go”. Referring to suffering kidney failure……..again. That hurts.
He went to dialysis “I know why I survived the heart attack. To raise Sydney and Xia and I’m not done yet”. Fighting so hard for life you don’t have energy to live. That hurts.
Three grown men wondering why the baby brother has to go first. That hurts. Watching my 2 girls say their final good-bye much too soon in their young lives. That hurts.
Moving forward without him. That hurts.

In the final days, I remember thinking that those who lose somebody suddenly have it ‘better’. Their loved one was happy and healthy until the end. Of course, I know that is not true. Whether the loss is completely unexpected, totally expected or, in my case, somewhere in between the grief is paralyzing. I am forever changed….I am a better friend. I am in awe of the strength of those I know that have lost parents, spouses, children, friends - I never understood how amazing they are. I do now. I think I am better able to support others going through loss…..I think.

The most terrifying words I heard in my earliest darkest days in this new life was “It never gets easier”. It took my breath away. That was the final “advice” that drove me to call a therapist. Grief- a lifelong journey that changes you as you travel through it. It does get easier in the sense that I can function again. It doesn’t go away and, strangely, I don’t want it to. But carrying it gets more manageable. Some days are bad and I imagine they always will be. Good days do return. And it absolutely doesn’t matter how you got there. That’s what I learned in this year of my life. Next year, I want to keep learning and make a difference.

Anniversary Posting- 6 Months

I remember sitting on the kitchen counter telling my Mom that I just wanted to fall asleep and wake up 6 months later. I couldn’t go through this awake.

I remember Lori telling that I would regret that and Heidi encouraging me to feel everything. Here I am, the 6 month mark. I wish more than anything I could change the way things are but am thankful I stayed awake.

I have learned more in this time than I could ever imagine. I learned that I never ever understood what many of my friends and family went through in their loss-I admire their strength now more than before, much more. I learned I have the bravest daughters on this Earth. I have learned about  friendship. I learned you can’t rush healing- tried unsuccessfully at times. I had to dig extra deep this morning and did- I had help and have learned at times I desperately need it. I have learned that I have strength.

I have learned from loss, grown through grief more than I ever thought possible. I feel like I want to do something with all of this….whatever “this” is. Today, I continue living….really living…..this short life.

Make it 20

It has been 5 months today since we celebrated wonderful Reid. And, as is typical on these milestone dates, I continue to learn from him. The speakers at the service made it unforgettable and enjoyable. One of my favorite lines was from Tim Reid- their common name is no coincidence. Tim entertained us all with stories of the Bonnie Beaters, Music and the special language of Mothers. I was so thankful that in this, my saddest day, I could hear heartwarming laughter- lots of it. What a gift. Then he was remembering their last phone conversation. Small talk about everyday life. “Reid and I talked for 15 or 20 minutes that day……….I hope it was 20”. That silenced the crowd, not to tears but in thought. I am sure it was 20 but what a lesson for all of us.
#MakeIt20

Prioritize those Living Days

I had the most amazing weekend. I took my youngest to her first Beaver football game. I met up with Michele, Kristen and Alisa. I had not seen Alisa since the service and had not seen her prior to that since we got our daughter from China….like 10 years. It’s crazy.

At some point in my life, I referred to each of these amazing women as “my very best friend in the world”. Nothing nothing nothing would be able to keep me from their final service yet I let years of real life go by without seeing them. Why do we do that? Reid and I talked about this phenomenon often. He didn’t want people visiting him in the hospital. He wanted to go visit them in life. Fortunately, he had very few regrets in life but, if I had to pick one, it would be how we allowed ourselves to lose touch with so many. No more. The days of living are limited and the days after are infinite. Prioritize accordingly. 

#ThisShortLife 

Our Last Date

Our last date. After months of ups and downs with his health we had entered another watch and wait period and we were finally using our gift certificate from Ryan and Katie to Ox. It was June 4th and we privately called it our “hope for health” dinner. We were bringing our own bottle of wine- Heitz Cabernet. Heitz was such a significant part of our journey. We would sit at the ‘round table’ at the restaurant where we met and drink Heitz Zinfandel. It was my introduction to red wine and a favorite of ours. Back then, they were just a little shack in Napa which we eventually visited shortly after we got married. They don’t do Zin anymore so for this date, I grabbed a cabernet. We were talking about looking like “that guy” who is bringing our own wine because we are too cheap to pay restaurant markup. We hoped the server didn’t hate us. When we got there, I was thrilled with our seats because I had read that it was the owner's favorite seat in the house. We were so lucky! I told the bartender that we had our own wine and we waited for ‘the look’. He took it and said “Wow! This is a fantastic wine! I used to live in San Francisco and visited this place years ago. Nice choice!”. What a relief! He took amazing care of us. Brought us great samples of goodness, knew the menu well and we followed all of his recommendations- that was a delicious decision. We visited with him, with each other, laughed…...it felt so so good. It’s like he knew it was our last date and wanted it to be perfect. It was. He made the good list for sure.