Holidays

Holidays.  The definition of holiday now for me is:  A day that makes you feel more isolated, sad and lonely than regular days.  You don’t have to work and have hours to fill while others are celebrating with family, sharing photos on social media, talking about all of the wonderful food and company.  In the second year, very few people even asked about my plans.  My assumption is for fear that I will have none and they will feel obligated to offer an invitation.   I feel badly for the poor, kind souls who do ask, because then there is that very awkward silence when they realize they’ve stepped into something they really didn’t want to.  Then there is the other type that will hurry on to tell me of all the things I should/could do to make the holiday just wonderful for myself.

Reality – I have not changed so much that I am not happy for your ability to celebrate with those that you love.  I truly haven’t.  And if you have asked about my plans and can’t include me in yours and I say that’s fine, I mean it.  I won’t lie to you.  But for me, right now, holidays are hell.  I feel invisible, and sometimes worse, an obligation.  I’m sure this will change, but not as quickly as anyone might think.  There is a hole I’m trying to fill in my life.  And it’s double the size that I expected any time soon.

I was so hopeful for this year.  I knew I would spend the day alone.  I tried my best to prep for it.  I worked inside the house Friday and worked out in the yard almost all of Saturday and was really encouraged, really proud of myself.  This is a big accomplishment for someone who wasn’t getting out of bed on the weekends until noon, if at all.  I thought I had momentum going into Sunday.  Wrong.  You can implement every hint, trick, suggestion in the grief books, but it doesn’t change the fact that alone is alone.  I couldn’t manage church because I miss Dave so much there and get so emotional.  And especially on Easter it is filled with families together.  Breakfast out presents the same challenge.  Even turning on the TV, all the commercials and shows remind you it’s a holiday and guess what?  You’re alone.  Going outside didn’t even work.  The street was filled with cars as the neighbors entertained friends and family.  Try the computer!  But forget social media – everyone’s posts are “Happy” Easter.  I am happy in the sense I am so thankful our Lord and Savior died and rose for us and I have a life I can choose what to do with as a result.  But it is not happy when you have no way to distract your mind from happier holidays past.  How you wish your kitchen was full of the aroma of Easter dinner and your yard was full of eggs for grandkids to hunt.  Instead, the kitchen is empty and the only thing is the back yard with an empty swingset.

I was saved by my son and his family inviting me to have dinner with them in the evening and it was lovely.  I appreciate it more than they can comprehend.

Although this very much sounds like a pity party, it isn’t.  It is my official recognition of what I need to adjust to at this point in my life.  I can’t expect other people to drop their plans for me.  If they wanted to invite me, they would have.  If they had wanted to spend time with me, they would have.  The hardest part is that it becomes a roller coaster, because sometimes people will and other times they won’t.  So do you take the rides when they come?  Or do you quit riding at all to learn to protect yourself from hurt?   I don’t have the answer.  I know I’ll never say no to time with my grandchildren – ever.  And I’ll learn, over time, how to manage this.

I share this not for you to feel sorry for me, but I need to purge it and maybe it will help someone understand why I kind of go “underground” at holidays.  Someone at work on Thursday asked about my plans and I couldn’t help it – my eyes filled – and I felt stupid and she felt badly.  I don’t want to put anyone in that position.

Just know that I’m very lost and feeling very, very alone, very insecure right now.  I’m sure this is purposeful, by God’s design.  I’m sure it’s one part of one of the stupid grief stages.  I need to learn to cope on my own.  I’ll find my way.  I’m not finished with this life yet and I know there’s a lot to celebrate.  I just have to relearn how to holiday.  And relearn how to adult.

Notes on Grief 103

What a difference a day makes.  I loved roller coasters growing up but I want off this one and I want off NOW!

You can work SO hard on focusing on the positive, being strong, making plans and in the blink of an eye, a song, a gift, a memory causes your world to come crashing down around you.  And the worst part is that you are so RAW.  I've spoken about being wrapped in batting the first year, although it didn't feel that way then, I'd go back to that in a heartbeat.  I have no outer shell, no protective armor left.  When it hits, it hits hard and swift.  And I allow the emotions to come.  It can last for 5 minutes, or on a night like last night it was 8 hours.

Sleep is elusive, but when it comes, I never want to get out of bed.  It is safer there, but only if I am sleeping.  If I'm lying there chasing sleep it is a cross between a lovely walk down memory lane and a horror chamber.  Seeing the faces of those you have loved so deeply and never being able to speak with them, touch them, hug them is torturous.

I have realized that I am broken.  And I will heal, but I will retain that broken part within my body forever.  The shame of it is that someone with a hole so large within them should have at least lost some weight by now.  Talk about never catching a break!

I realize that while I will always carry the scars of this loss within me, it's my soul that needs protection so that it remains intact.  I fear becoming a bitter, angry, jealous, isolated individual if I can't manage this.  I've never been angry at God, but I am angry that my grandchildren no longer have a father, and that my daughter-in-law lost her husband, my son his brother.  I am angry that I wake up alone every morning.  I am angry that the perfect baby I gave birth to had to endure things no one alive should have had to.

I try to take my motivation from the two that I miss so desperately.  I told Dave's best friend just the other night that I know he kept the extent of his pain and suffering of his cancer hidden as much as possible from me.  He didn't want to burden me, he didn't want our time to be about that.  He was masterful at it.  I've never seen anyone so strong, with as much resolution as he had.  And through disappointment after disappointment in Adam's life, he was able to remain hopeful and give the best he had to his family, his country and his God.  He had amazing dreams.  He wanted to go back to active duty and talked often of it.  He wanted to buy and operate a farm.  He wanted to work on the railroad.  I don't think any of those things could have been physically possible for him, but I realized that crushing someone's dreams is tantamount to crushing their soul.  We all need hope and dreams to keep going.  There are times in the dark of the night that our hope and dreams are all we have to cling to.  I want to always be able to throw a lifeline, not cut it.

I need to learn to ask for help.  I have so many things that I can't manage alone, or won't manage alone.  Mainly outdoor things - a man's territory.  I need to landscape, I want a flagpole to be included in that landscaping.  I have a garbage disposal to install, a lamp post to fix, a fence to shore up and be stained.  I need to learn so much more than I want to right now.  But I'm sure that in figuring it all out and taking it a step at a time, I'll not only accomplish these things, in a year or five, but will have the gratification that comes from a job well done.  Or at least a job attempted.

One day I feel as if I'm on the top of a beautiful hill, looking out over all that is real in my life and it's a beautiful vista.  The next day I wake up and I'm in a dark, damp, dingy basement, trying to find a light source so I can find my way out.  And I spend way too much time on those days being resentful of my situation, wishing I could call for Dave or Adam who would answer, laughing, telling me the light switch is right at my shoulder.  All I have to do is turn it on.  But it's so much harder to find when you're alone and frightened in the dark.

And as I type this, one of the very songs that rips at my heart has come on the radio, "You Should Be Here" by Cole Swindell.  He couldn't say it better.  They should be here.

Without meaning any disrespect to anyone anywhere, I wonder if this is what being bipolar is like.  Back in the old days manic/depressive was the term.  Sure sounds familiar to me right now.  I know there are medications but then I go back to being numb.  At some point this just has to be dealt with.  Although I suppose as with any long trip, there is no reason to not stop to rest occasionally.  Even the Marines have reserves to send in because at some point, enough is enough.

There is no one to step in for me, nor would I want them to.  First, because I would wish this pain on no one and I mean no one.  Second, this is my personal, very intimate experience and I can't give it to anyone.  It is mine alone.  I couldn't explain it for anyone to take over nor would I want to relinquish all that has meant more than my own life to me.  Those men, along with my son Chad, my grandchildren, my daughter-in-laws, sisters, parents, nieces, nephews, aunts, uncles, cousins and friends have formed who I am.  We all have our own walk to walk and this is mine and I need to accept it with grace and dignity.  And the secret is I'll pour out anything else that isn't graceful or dignified here or privately.

I just didn't expect it to be such a strong, pounding surf this far into the game.  I dare not take my life jacket off yet.

Spring

As the advent of spring is upon us, I find so many analogies to life - mine at least anyway.  It's time for renewal.  The earth reawakens, budding back to life, and soon will be flowering, growing and thriving.  Dependent clearly upon Mother Nature, but the circle of life will continue.

Back to an idea from an earlier post, was sharing that the second year after losing Adam and Dave would be harder than the first.  Who could imagine?  Impossible!  I'll never forget watching my beloved take his last breath in the hospital.  And I will always remember the phone call telling me my son had died.  The first of those occurrences was painful, but it was more like a heavy, heavy wintertime snow, coming down so very quietly and stopping all activity.  The world truly stood still for me the day I lost my husband and my learning to cope alone began.  It was like after the blizzard has stopped, and there is no electricity and you have to fend for yourself in totally different ways, for the power was off.  I felt as if I lost all my power when I lost my mate.  I had to find a new way to cope and nothing was as easy as it was when the power was on.

Ironically, the day my son died, there was a blizzard.  But I felt more as if I were in the middle of a tornado and that all around me "my" village had been hit and lives disrupted.  It was chaos, it was out of the blue, had not been predicted and it left a tragic wake in it's path.  More people than me had to try to find the scattered pieces that had been their lives and begin to rebuild.  It all happened so quickly it was hard to fathom.

We all know that there is a lot to learn from Mother Nature, but in this high tech world we live in, we often don't get out of the electronic glow enough to replace it with sunlight or moonlight and explore what beauty and destruction surrounds us.  Too often we'd rather tune in to the local news, podcast, website or YouTube to get our news.

The second year for me is harder because I ceased to exist the first year.  My body showed up and I could have dinner with you and talk and laugh with you.  Sometimes I'd even cry.  But the shock had not worn off.  I was coping with my own PTSD I think.  I've spent a year trying to dig out, put my surroundings back in order and had no time to think past the pain in my daughter-in-law's and grandchildren's eyes, Chad's and Troy's eyes, along with sons, brothers, aunts, uncles, cousins and friends.  I wanted to comfort them, to reassure them, be of some help to them.  And in doing that I could avoid tending to my own garden.

This year, the devastation remains with us, but we are learning to cope and move on.  And God bless those who are able to.  God designed the seasons for a purpose and living in Indiana, I should understand the lessons and the message there better than most.  The weather can change on a dime and it can either bring a sunset that takes your breath away, or it can wreak such havoc that it takes someone else's breath permanently away.

I have put my life almost on hold for a year, trying to find my bearings.  I was thrown clear out of the village, although my people have come for me and assured me of where I belong and why I belong.  I now look out and see that it's time to clear my flower beds, for new life is beginning to surface amidst the dead cuttings that should have been removed long ago.  I have to clear what died from last year to allow the new coming this year their right to flower beautifully in the sun without being choked out.  It is not work I relish, and it will likely be painful as I have allowed myself to become stiff and move as if I am 80 rather than almost 60.  But it needs to be done.  And then when I pull into my drive, there will be one less reminder of what no longer is.  I will be excited to see what is coming up in my flower bed and looking forward to new blooms of some different colors, rather than depressed to see what I have let go, and the work I have not been brave or fit enough to do.

Change is never easy.  We mostly resist it at all costs.  But to get stuck without change is a sin against nature.  We have four seasons that bring wonder and beauty every three months or so.  Our lives have more seasons than four, and if we have paid attention, we know that each season brings something new to look forward to, even though we may be leaving something behind that we loved equally well.

Getting used to that idea is painful.  I don't want to leave Dave or Adam behind.  But I need to understand that I don't have to.  I just need to learn new ways to take them with me.  I need to learn that I will continue to find joy in the center of my family, with Chad and his family, Jessica and her family, my sisters and all of those wonderful people in my village.  I need to learn that I don't want to be "that house on the block".  This year will be about cleaning up my landscape and planting the most beautiful perennials one can find, that will come back year after year and be something I can depend on.  A reminder that life goes on although sometimes we need to weed out what no longer flourishes and plant something equally beautiful in it's place.  It's time to put down the electronics, and get out and feel the sun on my face and recognize that there is so much more to do.

It's almost as if I saw myself in a planter with Dave and Adam, and because as they died, I no longer tended to myself, the last living thing in the pot.  No more fertilizer, (never needed it before because the other two always provided so much of their own if you know what I mean!)  Not nearly enough water or sunlight so I've become pretty droopy.  I think it's time to be transplanted into a beautiful bowl alone, where roots will take hold and I can begin to grow again.  I can't afford to waste more time and pass the point of no return.  It's time to embrace what has been given, by God, by Mother Nature and by the villagers.  It's time to spring into action.  And with the right landscaping, maybe the road out of my village will no longer look so long, so dark and so scary.  It's time to transform this road with something coming at me

into this one, that makes you want to follow it to see what adventure lies ahead.

And more than anything, I hope you'll come along with me.

“As the season changes, we learn to adapt.” 
― Lailah Gifty Akita, Pearls of Wisdom: Great mind

Change

As life moves on as you work to adjust to your "new normal" (a term I'd like to find an alternate for), there are other ups and downs, just as there were in your life "before".  I saw the best meme a couple of weeks ago that defines how life is now.

In any case, while your life is upside down and you have learned many life lessons recently that others before you have had to take in, there are always those who are oblivious to how things change.  I have to admit, that I have realized I have been ignorant in many areas and still am in others.  If you have not had certain life experiences, it is impossible to know how another really feels, to know how to interact as sympathetically as possible.  Before I married a veteran and had a son join the military, I thought I was patriotic.  And I was, as much as I was capable of being without understanding the personal investment that others make.  You can't know that intimately until it's one of your own.   I've learned that there are some who will jump on the bandwagon with you, but have no idea what it is to have that person on your mind the first thing when you wake up or the last when you go to sleep.  To hear the news that troops have lost lives and wait with your breath held for 24 hours, hoping that sedan does not pull up to your door.  As a consequence, you then pray that it won't be one of your numerous Marine family friends getting the news.  Moreover, you also then feel guilty because you know someone is getting that news and realize that by not wishing for it to be you, you by default are wishing it on someone else.  That hurts because you don't want anyone to lose a child.  It's like having no idea how much your parents truly loved you until you had a child of your own.  You couldn't.  There was no way for you to conceive of that notion.  And so it is for many who are well intended, but ignorant of which they speak.  Dependent upon what is said and who said it determines how tolerantly I respond, or think of whatever has occurred.  It's an interesting change which has caused a lot of self-reflection on my part of where I failed previously in situations, without intending to or even realizing it.  I'm not saying I'm beating myself up, but it's worth pondering.  I had a lovely little nun in grade school who always said, "Remember, when you are pointing your finger at someone else, three other fingers are pointing back at you!"  True that.

I snapped this photo yesterday morning as I was getting ready to leave for work.  The sky was just so incredibly beautiful, and all I could think was that God was blessing us with just a bit of his artistry and that it truly HAD to be a wonderful day.  I set off with that intention - for we can make days good or bad you know.  Our happiness rests within us, but that should be an entirely separate blog!

Let's say that the day had some interaction that was less than joyous, and was truly very difficult and emotional for me.  I had decisions to make.  While in many ways, the last year and a half have made me far more tolerant in many areas, oddly enough, I am far less tolerant of what is not good or healthy for me or those I care about.  I no longer have the energy to expend fighting battles that can't be won.  I no longer have the time to surround myself with others who judge too quickly and point fingers or are demanding beyond what I am capable of.  That can be very painful, because you can love people who have those character traits and when you were stronger you could handle it.  Or, conversely, is it because you are stronger, you no longer feel that you have to handle it?  There's a change, and I believe it to be a good one, but I can't quite identify the catalyst of that change yet.

I am learning things every day.  I am not yet fully engaged every day.  Some days I am.  Other days not so much.  I'm trying very hard to be aware.  Sometimes I feel as if this winter is one of hibernation, getting the rest for restoration of spirit and strength so that I can resurface soon.  Probably a prettier analogy would be that I'm cocooned of late, and moving into the chrysalis stage so that soon I can fly as lightly as a butterfly.  Wouldn't that be cool, because I never could fly before!?!?!?!  The point is, with all that has happened, much of it very painful, I am learning wonderful things about people and life.  I'm a bit embarrassed because you would think that on the brink of my 60th year I would have more of that knowledge.  What can I tell you - except that for so long in many ways my life has been so blessed and my faith was strong enough that I was able to manage what came my way without hesitation.  Until November of 2014 and February of 2015.

Interestingly enough, one of the people I learn the most from is my daughter-in-law.  How she has managed in the past year has been nothing short of amazing.  And she continues to strive to put herself in God's hands and live in the light, courageous and strong.  She inspires me.  She's always been great, but watching her pull herself together and become stronger and more outspoken for all the right reasons is like a time release video of a flower coming to full bloom.  And I feel that I have the same potential.  Things can change in a heartbeat and sometimes it's like water on a stone.  But there is always change and if I've learned anything, it's that I want to be on the right side of it.  I want to live in the light, always.  That means living authentically for you and those you love.  That also means that there may be some casualties along the way.  Think of your five senses - and use "what" and "how".  If you change what and how you see, hear, speak, taste and touch, it could revolutionize your life.  Now I would probably have a stroke if I take them all on at once, but maybe God needed to somehow slow me down and have me come to my own realizations about what is good for me.  And how I can be good for other people.  And that means no more ice cream before bed, and more vegetables during the day.  That means more time in prayer and less time gossiping.  That means really listening instead of being anxious for my turn to talk, or going over your grocery list in your head.  It means every interaction with someone could be your last.  Make it authentic so you have no regrets.  It means looking out your door and seeing the wonder of God's world and knowing that you need to suck it up that minute because it may not be visible later.  The wonder is still there, but it may manifest itself in another way - just as it did when I took the same picture outside my door when I returned from work last night.

Not a bad view - but different.  Bringing with it different chores, different responses.  It definitely had changed.  In just over 9 hours.  Life can change in an instant.  For most of us continuing on our own journeys, it's more like water on a stone.  But all it really takes is a purpose, and resolve.  I found my purpose when I met my husband and he made me believe in myself again.  That put me on a course that allows me now to not be angry at God, but to believe there is a time to every purpose under heaven.

I love Indiana because of how the weather changes.  I never choose the same color of nail polish twice, because there are so many beautiful colors to experience.  I normally give my hair dresser carte blanche because it's so much more fun to change things up.  I have been forced into changes that I didn't exactly welcome, but truth be told, I see the potential to continue to evolve as a result of experiencing the events in my life the last 18 months.  One of the things that my sons heard from me more than maybe anything was that doing the right thing often was the hardest thing.  Being authentic takes courage and a finely tuned ability to try not to hurt others as you pursue what is best for you in your life.  But you have to also learn to let go.  Let go of past hurts, let go of people's judgment, let go of all that doesn't allow you to be a better, kinder, gentler, legitimate you.

I like half full glasses.  I like lemonade in my half full glass.  (I like wine in the half full glass too but I don't know a cliche to fit that!)  I want to live and continue to be the best me I can be.  I like surprises - at least most of the time when they're happy ones.  I like that I know that God promised that I will never be alone and that the people I take with me never allow that either.  I am changed, and continually changing.  I am blessed and hope to be a blessing to others.  Change is hard for people, but as I always told Adam and Chad, the right thing is never the easiest thing and the best course is to always do the right thing for the right reasons.  It's time to walk the walk.  But bringing an umbrella and jacket just in case the weather changes!