All You Need Is Love

 In eleven days it will be eleven years ago that my elder son left this earthly life.  As with any traumatic event , the number on the calendar would be a hurtful reminder of that date forevermore.  Add to that, a cruel twist of fate, that it happened to be February 14, Valentine’s Day.  

For the past ten years, I have grieved and even railed at the irony of so many others being able to celebrate with joyful abandon a day that causes me immense pain.  I know that this holiday has also been ruined, most especially, for Adam’s wife and children, along with his brother, father and me. It has also been marred by varying degrees for so many others who knew and loved him.    

I share all of this as a preface to explaining my change of heart this year.  I have been on a personal journey to find ways to improve my life, my attitude and my perspectives on what life surrounds me with and how I react.  It has required some deep dives, brutal honesty, prayer, journaling and more prayer.  What I have learned is contained in this condensed version.

1.  God didn’t promise that it wouldn’t get hard; He promised that He would not abandon us.  Far too often I forgot to take Him along as my copilot.  

2.  While we can’t control everything in our lives, we have complete control of how we respond to said “things”.   Granted, time sometimes does take the edge off pain, and time also can provide perspective.  Do I really want everyone else to be miserable because I am?  When I read that back, I realize just how ludicrous that is.  

3.  Valentines Day honestly is also very painful for many others.  The Hallmark version of this day is not inclusive for all.  In addition, while I miss my son every day of the year, I enjoy other holidays with the people I love, without always considering that day on the calendar is equally painful to someone else for their own personal losses.

4.  Valentines Day is all about love.  The best description of grief I have heard is that “grief is love with no place to go”.  I find that to feel incredibly accurate.  I wouldn’t hurt so much if the love had not been so strong and deep. 

I share all of the above in order to happily report that I have decided that it’s time to embrace this lovers’ holiday again.  In addition to being Adam’s death date, it was my father’s birthday and my grandfather’s burial date.  It took me a decade of feeling selfishly deprived before I could embrace the beautiful irony.  I loved all three of these men deeply, and they returned that love to me and so many others.  I remember how cold it was the day we committed my grandfather back to the earth and didn’t want to leave his body in the frigid ground.  I recall how special that I always felt it was that my dad was born on a day for love, as he loved so deeply himself.  So why would I be angry that Valentines Day is the day God took my son home?  It’s a day that uses hearts as its brand and is solely about love.  Adam’s heart failed that night.  I am not surprised.  He loved as big as anyone I have ever met.  

In recognition of my grandpa, my dad and my beloved son, I have decided that this year it’s time to dip my toe back into Cupid’s pool and celebrate all the love that I have known, from wonderful, beautiful people.  Some are gone, most remain.  Today I purchased the heart shown in the photo here as a reminder to myself and to let St. Valentine know I am back.  

Happy Valentine’s Day everyone! ♥️

Mind Blowing

 I have been struggling for quite a while now to understand the division in our nation.  I often find myself on the other side of the fence from those very near to me, and find that really puzzling.  Most are people who have been in my life a very long time and many are the people that I love and respect the most.  There have been many times when I have tried to engage in dialogue to understand those differences; wondering if they have something to offer that I have been missing, something that might change my mind.  I can’t promise to have no political bias, but I can promise a very sincere, healthy curiosity about the division and a willingness to entertain other’s opinions.  

This is the perfect time for me to say that I don’t hate anyone politically.  I don’t hate anyone who disagrees with me politically.  I have decided that each of us lives very different lives, with different influences and priorities.  That alone serves up tremendous diversity.  I am here to grant respect for those who see things differently because we all have walked different paths.  I can’t judge their pain or angst as you can’t identify with mine.  Because it is mine. 

All of that being said, sadly I am most often met not with the same curiosity about differences and more often than not with being told “I can’t have this conversation with you.”  That I can’t comprehend.  I’m not here to change your mind or to dissuade you.  But I want to understand you.  I can get animated in my discussions, but you can’t hurt my feelings.  I am only trying to learn.  

It’s harder than ever to find straight facts.  And our algorithms don’t help.  So I try to read and follow websites and networks with opposing views to find the truth in the middle.  What initially blew my mind was watching all of the vitriolic posts and memes, from all sides.  Do grown people really believe that that is helpful?  Is it going to change people’s minds?  What are people’s intentions with the implied hate and negativity?  Both parties.  What compels people to need to imply having some inside information that the rest of us don’t know or understand?  That they are smarter than the rest of us with ugly posts?  If someone can tell me what they hope to achieve with negative political posts, I would love to know.  I don’t believe that it’s enlightenment.  They don’t feel that way.  Both parties.  

I am a BIG believer in free speech.  People have the right to do/say anything and I support and respect that.  I’m just trying to understand your message.  I could count on one hand the posts that are political things that are truly positive for every American.  “Why not?” is what my head and heart are screaming.  

Charlie Kirk’s assassination has elevated my confusion even more.  And what blows my mind even more are those posting “thoughts and prayers to his wife and family but….”   But what?  Is there a justifiable “but” for any loss of life?  I’m not sure I can or want to define a reason to rationalize why someone deserved to die.  What do I really know about them personally?  I don’t have that right to speak to their circumstances.  I feel that way about any loss of life, whether it be from school ahootings, domestic violence, criminal violence, you name it.  

We need many things in this country.  Better gun control, better mental health care, better politicians to name a few.  But what we also need are better citizens.  If we only worked at finding common ground as hard as we worked at jabbing at each other, what might happen?  Makes me wonder if people TRULY want peace, or whether they only want it on their own terms.  

I would be sad, if at my funeral, I was only remembered for my political views.  That would break my heart because I think that there is much more to me than what and who I vote for.  My political ideology is just one small piece of my composition.  And it will always remain that way.  I refuse to give in to the division of families, friends, acquaintances, anyone over politics or any other “one topic”.  It’s crazy.  Especially because the next election is always just around the corner and everything can change.  The other is that I don’t want to be that person in my family’s and friends’ lives.  My desire is to let you be you and let me be me, and respect that other people have every right to their opinions even if I never understand them.  I will fight hard against letting their ideologies change my opinion of them.  What does affect me is slewing hate and negativity. It hurts to see a constant barrage of political crap intended to show how you know so much better than the rest of us.  That’s what it feels like.  It implies that you know more than the rest of us.  And that specifically is why I try hard to not engage in politics on social media.  Understand that we will never all see eye to eye and that’s okay.  We’re not supposed to.  

I don’t have all the answers.  I only have one.  Think before you post publicly.  Both parties, all sides.  I’m not here to challenge or change your opinion.  I just don’t see us finding a way to unity when we continue to share divisiveness.  

Letting Go

Oh grief......undoubtedly the most complicated emotion I have ever experienced, I must say.  And by now, unfortunately, I am quite familiar with it, yet still constantly perplexed by it.  24 years ago this year I lost my mother, and 14 years ago my dad.  I'm now coming up on five years since I lost my husband and three months later, the five year anniversary of my son's death.  Yes, I know grief.  However, there is absolutely no predicting it.  What I am discovering is that the pain of not having those people in my life is still acute, yet I have learned to cope.  I feel as if I have been in hibernation in varying degrees over the past five years and am now wide awake and seeing the world so very differently.

First of all there is the realization that without my parents or husband, no one loves me "best" anymore.  That hit me when just over a year ago I was wheeled back to surgery without my husband there reassuring me with a kiss and sparkling blue eyes that all would be well.  The dearest of friends were there, and no offense and I know none will be taken, but it's just not the same.  Call me selfish, but I miss being that special to someone - that I will be the first person they think of, call, reach for.  There's a big chunk of lonely in that realization that you have lost that privilege.

With the intimacy of immediate family, whether it be parent, spouse or child, there are so many things specific to those relationships that no one else can duplicate.  I miss that I will never again have one of the extraordinary meals my mother could prepare.  I miss that I will never be able to hear my dad tell stories of his Grandpa Hay, and wish that I had listened more closely the first time.  I miss coming home to someone whose eyes lit up when I came in and would offer a foot rub.  And I miss a son who understood his mother's gullibility and never missed a chance to pull her leg.  Those examples may seem trite to the obvious, but I guarantee, they are not.  They are part of unique relationships that made each of them so very special to me in so many ways.

What I wouldn't give to have someone by my side whose hand I could grab when I see something joyful when out and about; or just to give me security, physically and emotionally.  I miss that I don't have a shoulder to rest my head on when I enjoy the wonder of the incredible sunset, waterfall, forest or ocean that I am enjoying.  I want to look across a room again, catch his eye and get a wink, or see an expression that is as clear to me as if words were spoken.  How much happier mornings would be if there was someone to say good morning to, or just kiss on the forehead as they slumber on.  How much better I would sleep if I had someone to say good night to is something I'm sure of.

I ache at family events when these people are not there for landmarks, such as ball games, First Communions, weddings, Hall of Fame inductions and so much more.  I'm learning that I can let go of the physical things, but the memories are part of my very soul.  They're my history, part of the big patchwork quilt that could chronicle my life.  The good news is that I can more often smile at these memories than before.  The sad news is that the word bittersweet never before had so much meaning for me.  With those smiles comes a tug of sadness that the beautiful party that included those guests of honor is over.

Maybe it's because I'm getting older that I'm putting together my own "End of Life" box.  You know, the binder with all of your insurance policies, accounts, passwords, and such.  My will is in there too.  Additionally I have begun planning my own funeral and wake.  I'm not sure exactly where or what the funeral will entail or even where it will even happen, but I'm gathering some things (tangible and intangible) that I can leave to the keepers of my heart left here on earth.   I have far more specific ideas about the wake!  I want a true party, with lots of laughter, lots of music and lots and lots of hugs.  I want a veritable love fest as a reminder that even when you have to let go, there are still so many others in your life you can reach out for, who love you and care about you like no one else can or will.

Spring; a Time of MY Rebirth

It's never too late to teach an old dog new tricks.  Thank goodness, because this bitch has been making lots of mistakes all along the way.  Finally, before my amazing journey is over, I am finally learning some secrets to life. 

I was raised in a conservative rural German Catholic area.  I could not have handpicked parents any better than I received.  My sisters and I were taught the Ten Commandments, the Golden Rule, to respect our elders, authority and just about anything and everything else.  I had no bias or discrimination instilled into me.  I was taught that all men are equal and that if you work hard and do the right thing, good things will happen.  I was also taught to never be hurtful.  I am grateful for that upbringing and overall it has served me incredibly well.  Some of my problem though is, that over time, things have changed.  The moral credo I was taught does not exist in the same way it used to.  We tended to put other people first, knowing that what good you did would be returned to you many fold.  I now exist in a culture that I see more often than not to be a "me first" life.  "Listen to ME!"  "Pay attention to ME!"  "Don't do anything to offend ME!"  "I know I just started in the work force but my education is superior to yours therefore I know more and understand technology more which makes me superior to you!"  "Don't try to spew what you believe to me - I know better.  Life isn't that way any more Old Timer!"  Maybe.  But the thing is, times and society changes, human needs do not.  People are people.  Life changes.  I get that.  I have a smart phone and a smart TV.  They are still not smarter than me.  I know how to respond beyond how I am programmed.  Sometimes there are flaws in our programming.  Sometimes it is a manufacturer's flaw and sometimes a user flaw.  Very often troubleshooting manuals that you download are very short and to the point.  If it goes beyond the very simple, call tech support, or for administrative assistance.  Who are these people behind the phone with the foreign accents that I can't understand?  How can they fix what is wrong in my world?  The reality is that they can't. The reality is that no one knows me better than me and if I am honest, I know the path to find how to right what is wrong with me.

Sometimes even with the happiest of childhoods, we don't grasp all the tools necessary to go forward in life.  I didn't learn how to deal with confrontation well.  I didn't learn how to have a healthy argument.  I learned to acquiesce and apologize sometimes for things that weren't my fault just to keep the peace.  I would succumb sometimes faster than I should, even if I believed what I was doing was right, to not make waves.  With that behavior, doubt can come creeping in.  Maybe I believed that I was right, but if I was in the minority, surely I wasn't.  Therefore I would keep my ideas and opinions to myself.  I didn't want anyone to think poorly or badly of me and heaven forbid to make fun of me.  And so the invasion of peer pressure trumps self esteem every time in my life.  There is always someone else hiding behind their own lack of self confidence using a bigger voice or personality to bully you into getting their way and showing you they were smarter, better, right.  And often their issues were way bigger than yours, but as a child you had no way of understanding that, let alone to be able to battle it.  So instead of reaching out a hand or facing off, retreat was my response.

I have said before that from the time I was a very young girl that the Wizard of Oz has been my favorite movie.  Somewhere Over the Rainbow is probably my all time favorite song.  It has graduated from being a favorite to the perfect metaphor for life, especially when you incorporate Wicked into the equation.  "You've had the power all along my dear, you just had to learn it for yourself."  Heavenly days!  It's been there, buried in the midst of one of my absolute favorite childhood treasures all the time.  Why haven't I paid more attention until now?

Because it's not how the world beyond our psyche operates.  We need to succeed.  We need to have a great career.  We need to present the perfect family.  Said family has to participate in x number of sports and extracurricular activities and maintain at least a 3.5 GPA to be deemed "good enough".  That of course with the right wardrobe, car, house, church, school, toys, etc., etc. are the measuring sticks for success in our world.  I believe in equality, but I don't want it shoved down my throat.  I want people to respond to me in the same way that I treat them.  I have no judgment about anyone until I know them and interact with them.  And even then I have learned to try to look at things from their viewpoint as I am able and even after that to give them the benefit of the doubt.  It doesn't mean that if they hurt me it still doesn't sting and I still don't experience a moment of hurt, anger or resentment, but I don't feed it and don't let it come home to roost.  I can give it it's due and then move on.  I can't control them, but I sure as hell can control me.  And that's where I will find my happiness.  I immediately am going to grant respect until it is proven that it is has been misplaced.  I will treat someone with dignity as another child of God.  Please do the same for me. 

So going back to my generational upbringing, I am a bit on the cusp of the old school where a woman's place is in the home and I wish I could have lived that life.  Alas, it was not to be.  We were a generation moving into the work force so that we could keep up with the Jones and Smiths and Greens and O'Haras and Steinbergs and Chens and D'Angelos and everyone else on the block or county quadrant.  That meant to be a wife and mother came first, making sure your husband's and childrens' needs were attended to first.  Any good wife and mother knows that, right?  You are up earlier than anyone preparing lunches and checking book bags and up later than everyone, checking homework, ironing shirts, prepping tomorrow night's dinner so you can eat after all the after school activities and not be one of THOSE moms who runs through the drive thru at the nearest fast food establishment.  It's important to do all these things because they equate to love for your family.  It is not just something you SAY to them, you have to SHOW them.  We all know that, right?

And when someone comes into the kitchen on a holiday and you are juggling decorating and cooking and baking and shopping and cleaning and correspondence and schedules and they want to know if you need anything, you smile and say "No, I think I have everything under control", wiping a strand of hair from your face with a tired smile.  THIS is where I stop the video and scream "No! No you don't!  You may think you have it under control but you're losing control everywhere else!"

Children need to learn that life is not a bed of roses and doesn't exist around them.  Husbands don't need to be coddled and believe that anything within the house is not their domain.  The purpose of family is to give you a safe and supportive base from which to explore the world.  This applies both to the family your parents make for you and to the one you eventually make for yourself and your children.  That means working as a team, sharing the workload and the fun times; sharing the joys and sorrows and being honest along every step of the way.  You never burden your children with adult business, but it is not unhealthy for them to understand there is not a money tree in the back yard and sometimes we can't afford it and sometimes you don't make the team and sometimes someone won't invite you.  And we deal with all of that together, celebrating our strengths and working on our weaknesses.  I found that it was harder than I thought because more often than not, they struggled with the same things I had all of my life.  Go figure.  And of course over time, the world changes so families must adapt and change as well.  And in many cases wives and mothers chart the course for their families, or at least do the best job of keeping them grounded.  (Don't anyone get excited - that is a generalization, not a fact!)  To do that requires a great deal of strength and oft times courage.  And that my friends, is exactly where I have failed. 

I loved and nurtured extraordinarily well.  I wanted to be everything to each of them.  (Not practical or realistic I know now!)  In doing so I perpetuated the same weaknesses I had into them.  I would wear myself to a frazzle trying to make everything just so and could smile with the thrill of victory, saved from the agony of defeat.  Ugh.  If only I had known then what I am discovering now.

Fast forward to a life that has included the loss of both parents at a younger age than the median, a  child with learning disabilities, a dysfunctional marriage and consequent divorce after over 20 years, job loss, remarriage, death of a spouse, death of a child and traumatic injuries.  First of all, your measuring stick for success has been wiped out.  Erased.  Gone.  Kaput.  Secondly, how do you perform when everything you did was meant for someone else?  How in the world can you be happy now? 

The truth is, I was asked just over twenty years ago in a therapy session what would make me happy a year from then.  I responded how my family and husband would be succeeding as my response.  She reiterated the question and said "Sandra, it's not about them.  What do you need to make YOU happy?"  I sat for what seemed like forever, and if you know me well at all, you know I am rarely at a loss for words, but I was that afternoon.  I had no idea.  Literally no idea.  I don't say that because I am a saint or a martyr.  I just had put myself way up on the top shelf of the back closet and closed the door a long time ago.  In that moment I knew I was going to have to find a way to reach way up there, grab that box, dust it off, open it up and see what happened.

Yes, I said twenty plus years ago.  The box has come down.  It came down right after my divorce.  Happily I discovered some of the very best of me in the depths of that box.  It has been fun to dig into the box and see what was in there.  It has taken all these years to get through it.  It feels good to wear my own skin and say what I want and do what I want without fear of reprisal.  I actually LIKE who I am far more than when I was doing everything "just so" for someone else and nothing for me.  Yet there's one more piece of the puzzle that is the hardest still at the very bottom of the box.  Something that causes me to feel as inadequate and lost as I did wondering what would make me happy twenty years ago.  And that simply is the need to take care of myself.  Put myself first for a change.  Care more about my health and well being than those I love.  Doing that I realize is loving the cherished people in my life but I had no idea how to go about it.  Undoubtedly I've had more on my plate before but I could tackle it with zeal because it was for someone I loved.  What is covering my plate now is all about me and sadly I have not been motivated to clean my plate because it WAS only about me. 

I have been fighting mightily to recover from the losses in my life; to figure out how to do this on my own.  I have been determined almost from the outset to find my joy. I have come a long way but my recent accident and subsequent temporary (hopefully) disability has sent me into a depressed state that has frightened me.  I have a wonderful support system, but there is much lacking.  Still I could hear a voice telling me that I can manage this; that I am capable.  I am a child of God and wonderfully made.  I am alive and I yearn for more.  I have the examples and legacies of incredible people to draw from and to add my own spirit to.  So the solution is simple.  Get up and get going.  Do what you never have done.  Go where you never have gone.  Invest in me, in my strength, my health, my courage, my fears.  I KNOW that I am enough.  I KNOW that I have gifts to offer that are mine exclusively and how wonderful it will be to share them with those who want to share equally and not just take.  Life is all about energy and I can only attract what I emit.  I'm going to say, before I am finished, prepare to be shocked.  And I'm not talking about being surprised, I'm talking about being physically shocked from the positive energy that you will feel radiate from me.  I have put together my own program with the help of some amazing people, using my own intuition that has proven spot on so far and now each day I wake with hope and excitement for what the future has in store for me.   I have been abundantly blessed and it would be a shame to not have my light shine fully upon this earth before it is snuffed out.  So until later, keep your sunglasses handy my friends.  You're going to need them!!!!  xoxoxo

What Am I Thankful For?

Another Thanksgiving in the books.  This year I was fortunate to spend it with my son Chad, and grandson Tyler.  Cozy and quiet with two wonderful men in my life!

In reflecting on this holiday and the next to follow, seeing Facebook posts, photos of family holiday gatherings, hearing coworkers speak of holiday plans, I realize that the holidays have truly become bittersweet for me.  I still love them and decorate and want to participate.  But there are too many empty seats these days.  Not just the four obvious ones, but more than four, because loss creates change.  The days of me being able to be surrounded by my entire family on a holiday are surely past.  That's a hard pill to swallow.  Yet I am prompted to do two things.  I have a dear friend who shared the wisdom of his grandfather, which is "to expect the worst, hope for the best, and you'll never be disappointed".  True words, and they have a place.  Yet to write life off that simply is difficult for me.  I need to let go of what I can't control, true.  But when what you can't control also has a direct effect upon your happiness it's easier said than done.  Secondly, I have to find a new way to process.

So now I look at what I have to be thankful for even in the toughest situations.  And with this I have a confession to make.  I probably have alluded to it before, but I need to say it outright.  I am fully aware that without the pain and suffering I have endured in my life, I likely would be a very shallow, self-centered person.  I wouldn't be able to reconcile as much as I do in this life.  I also know that with great likelihood, my perspective would not be to look for the silver lining and be grateful for all I have been given.  I'm not suggesting that I have this perfected or am a role model for anyone. But certainly, in learning how to understand why things happen requires me to put myself in others' shoes before I hurry to pass judgment or complain.  It doesn't mean that anything changes, but it does help me have compassion for others in the situation.

So this year, as I continue to discover new revelations, I am thankful for the grace God has given me to have perspective.  I am grateful for the ability to try to think beyond myself and put myself in an other's position which almost always takes any frustration down at least a notch, if not totally away.  I am thankful that God has chosen the people I need in my life.  Sometimes I think I want something or someone else, but this past season has proven that He knows what I need and has given it to me in spades.  The people who have responded to help me in many really tough situations without being asked has been unbelievable.  I have people actively in my life who walk the walk.  How could I ask for more?

I am grateful that I BELIEVE.  I believe in God/Higher Power/Whatever You Want to Call Him/Her/It.  My faith has been an anchor.  I am grateful that I have realized that faith and spirituality aren't necessarily tied to organized religion.  I am grateful that I still believe in people.  I believe in patriotism.  I believe in respecting others and giving someone the benefit of the doubt.  If you're waiting for "Yes, Virginia, there IS a Santa Claus" then I'm not going to disappoint you.  I do believe in Santa, and a joyful, giving spirit.  I'm grateful that somehow I was blessed with a spirit that wants to be happy, yearns for it, and a brain that knows that I alone am responsible for my own happiness.  I have been given the tools I need to sustain whatever this life is going to throw my way.  I just have to remember to always wear my tool belt.  And I am grateful even for the pain I have endured, and the people in my life, for without those items, I am sure my tool belt would not be nearly as well equipped.  Lighter and easier to carry maybe, but not nearly as helpful or effective.

I have had the love of wonderful parents, three extraordinary sisters, an absolutely incredible husband, two amazing sons, five beautiful, talented, loving grandchildren, fabulous extended family, and friends that you don't stumble across every day.  If hard life lessons have had anything to do with this bounty I enjoy, then I accept them willingly.  I could never wish the pain I have endured on anyone else, but with it has come unforeseen blessings that have been beyond abundant.  So I am called to travel my path with a cheerful heart.  When the sadness creeps in, I am reminded to use one of my tools to continue forward.  Today, that happens to be putting pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard).

Thank you for indulging me on my journey as I work to figure out how best to navigate with joy, love and peace.  It is my greatest desire to continue to hone that ability in the future.  May I always realize that I hold the key to my happiness.  I have all along.  My holiday wish for you is that you have your own key close at hand, but that that particular door always remains unlocked.  Happy Holidays my friends!

Broken But Not Beaten

Life is full of twists and turns and peaks and valleys and you can never be sure just what is around the next bend.  I recently hit a rough patch (literally) and it was the most serious event I’ve had to face since being widowed.  I fell, broke my right humerus (ironic name for a bone that has not proved to be the least bit funny so far) into 4 pieces.  It took two surgeons, 2 1/2 hours, one plate, thirteen screws and 49 staples to put me back together.  Painful and scary to be sure but certainly not the worst thing to happen at all.  But doing it all alone was something new and frightening.    I remember the surgeon just before surgery expressing doubts and outlining the not so wonderful options.  I think as much as I have missed my beloved husband in these past years I have never missed him more than those moments before I was rolled back to the OR.  What the surgeon had to say was not encouraging and all I could think of was how I would cope being alone.  I will never be able to prove whether it was the drugs or a wonderful visit, but the last thing I saw as I was going under was my husband’s reassuring smile with those bright blue sparkling eyes letting me know all would be well.

The hospital experience left a lot to be desired, but I was blessed with a gifted surgeon and some incredible nurses and CNAs.  I had what I needed where it mattered.  I was released with no use of my right arm or driving for at least six weeks.  I was released with no home health assistance even though the doctor had ordered it.  That created some really difficult situations because I could not remove or replace the immobilizer on my arm by myself.  That meant that many tasks were difficult to impossible for me to achieve, not the least of which were bathing and dressing.  It took time, but thanks to a wonderful HR Department at my place of employment, I have what I need now and am deeply grateful for their persistence and generosity.

I am just shy of a month into this journey and have had several epiphanies along the way.  The first is that I am and have been far from alone.  I knew I had wonderful people in my life but never in my life dreamed of just how blessed I am to have friends who have put their own lives and needs on hold to be here with me so I wouldn’t be alone.  From arriving in the ER in the ambulance and having someone there within the half hour to having three friends there during surgery to friends taking me home, staying with me, cleaning and cooking for me, taking me on necessary errands and just being with me as I recover has been extremely humbling and eye opening.

This experience has been painful and scary.  But it also has been such a revelation on so many levels.  There have been other occurrences early on, where much like seeing my husband’s face I have felt reassurance from my mother and father individually.   I was blessed with a new granddaughter that brings me more joy than I can put into words, even though I have yet to meet her.  My friends and family have been right here with prayers and their presence, offers of assistance, cards and flowers sent for encouragement, meals for sustenance, housecleaning and mowing.  The list goes on and on.  People have been truly incredible and shown just how much they care.  No lip service with my friends and family.  I am so proud to say they walk the walk.

I will never be able to repay all the kindnesses shown to me.  But know I will do my best and I do not take this lightly.  I truly am blessed and privileged enough to live within a tribe.  My tribe is large and far reaching.   They extend from coast to coast and border to border.  Silly me.  I was afraid of being alone.   I have never been more enveloped in love and generosity.  And I thank God each and every day for being blessed beyond what I deserve.

I will recover.  I AM recovering.  And a word of caution; as I emerge from this I believe I’m going to rise like the Phoenix stronger than I have ever been.

All because I get by with more than a little help from my friends.   God is so very good.  And what an incredibly wonderful world I live in.

Special thanks to Chad, Judy, Karen, Becky, Patricia, Kay, Rhonda, Kathy, Christine.  There are no words for who you are for me.   xoxoxo

Once Upon A Time the Sun Rose and Sandra Had an Epiphany

The more time passes since my life was turned upside down in 2014/2015, the more I'm learning how to calm myself as said time passes by.  Should I have been the sole author of my biography, it certainly would have had a "happily ever after" ending.  Alas, that was not to be the case, and if truth be told, even fairy tales have ogres, witches, monsters, death and fear in them.  What I can report, is that while I was a character in my beloved husband and son's last chapters, they were not destined to be in mine.  And I have decided to take editorial rights to what comes my way from now on.  I do have a co-author who will introduce plights and plots, but I get to decide how my character responds to each and every dilemma and dream come true.

I have learned so very much through grief, sadness and loneliness that has made me a kinder, softer, less judgmental and more tolerant human being.  There is something to be said for the wisdom of Scarlett O'Hara when she says she'll worry about it tomorrow.  The cliche memes that talk about yesterday being your past, tomorrow your future but today being the "present" is less cliche and so much more real.  Make no mistake, grief and depression are still the monsters in my story and I grapple with them on a very regular basis.  But the secret I've learned and adopted is that I have the advantage of taking what is negative and letting it go with the setting sun.  I am then free to wake up tomorrow to a brand new day, a brand new opportunity.  Yesterday's memories that are meant to be treasured will be etched onto my heart.  Yesterday's pain needs to be disposed of, for it will drain you of energy, vim and vigor that you want to have plenty of to face the new day ahead.

I am forced into really getting to know myself intimately as never before.  I am no longer "someone's wife", and my motherly pursuits are cut in half.  I am Sandra; widow, parent, bereaved parent, grandparent, sister and friend.  That leaves a lot of "me" time that I so dearly wished for when I didn't have it, because the people in my life now do not dwell in it on a daily or physically basis.  They are wonderful paragraphs, but not enough to compose a chapter except on very special days.  Mostly it is me writing my story now, without any outside influence.  Isn't life so very peculiar?  The grass certainly is greener on the other side.  I'm left with a yard that is a pain in the ass when you have to mow and fertilize it all yourself.  Cooking a meal has lost it's joy.  I was under the misunderstanding that it was about nourishment, but the joy in it was creating something for the people I loved, and hopefully nourishing them with my love as well as the vitamins, minerals and calories!  Weekends are the most difficult.  I have spent too much time filling mine with trips and company and shopping expeditions just so that I didn't become a slave to my bed and bedroom where everything was easier.  There would be no one to judge if I cried, or didn't get dressed, or heaven forbid, even venture from the bed except for the barest of necessities.  Moderation is what my mother taught me, and I'm pretty sure she didn't mean spending half the day in bed.  I'm learning to manage quite well with my own company a good deal of the time.  I'm no longer "trying to outrun the grief" but be proactive so that it doesn't sneak up on me as easily.

The truth is, that as time goes by, if I am open to the possibilities, I should be quite excited.  My world can be and will be what I create.  I am the captain of my ship, the head of my household and the co-author of my tale.  I care less what people think and do more of what is good and right for me.  That certainly does not mean at anyone's expense, however, I don't have to hold onto everyone and everything.  I can't embrace anything new if I don't let go at some point.

The saddest question I cannot answer, is whether I would have achieved some of what is so much better in me if I hadn't had to face the fire?  I would like to think so, but truth is, I doubt it.  There have been valuable lessons in this journey.  And the good news is that my story continues.  I'm not sure how it will end, but I guarantee it will be filled with the pursuit of joy, happiness, truth, reality and lots of laughter.  And that is my preferred recipe for love and life.  I'm predicting if my little story ever makes it to the big screen it will be much like a Disney film if I have anything to say about it; (and ultimately I have EVERYTHING to say about it!)  Good vs. bad, sadness and triumph over evil, laughter and tears, and most of all a wonderful moral that ties it all up into a nice little bow.  The kind of film that has everyone quiet as the credits roll, hugging those who came with them and leaving with hope in their heart.

Leave today's troubles on your back step to roll away with the setting sun and set your heart to rise with the same clean slate of a brand new day.  And just maybe, (I almost guarantee) we'll live happily ever after!!!  (Now if I could only train the mice to be more of a help than a nuisance!!!!)

Play Ball! aka Unconditional Love

Unconditional love.  I am one of the very fortunate, maybe even rare, individuals who has experienced this my entire life.  My parents showed in endless ways, for endless days that their love surpassed my growing pains, bad choices and the errors of my ways.  I'm going to make a fairly certain assumption and say that it extends to my sisters.  That's not to say there have never been arguments or disagreements over time; but the beautiful thing is that nothing has ever surfaced to be enough to cause a rift in our relationships.  They are there for me now and always have been.  They make a huge difference in filling the void that my parents left.  I'm blessed with incredible extended family as well, with no breaks in relationships where my sisters and I are concerned.

Then came David.  If partners, mates, spouses were to love unconditionally always, there would never be divorce, so we know that it is not as common as we'd like to believe.  But oddly enough, sometimes divorce is an outcome of unconditional love.  I believe it's possible to continue to love someone but not be able to live with them, but that's my next paragraph!  I get ahead of myself!!!  Back to David.  We met and became friends.  We talked over smoke breaks at work.  He shared his life and I shared mine.  We were thirteen years apart, but we became good friends.  He was a complex man and many thought he was gruff, crusty, grumpy.  He may have had a hard exterior but the inside was nothing but a giant heart of marshmallow fluff!  One of the things I loved about him was his loyalty and fierce love and devotion to his family.  I recognized before I ever dreamed my last name would one day be his, that he was a passionate man.  Passionate in his faith, for his family, friends and his work.  After I did take that funny last name, he demonstrated his love every day in so many different ways.  And I was spoiled without realizing it by living in a safe, warm, loving home with a man who put everyone he loved before himself.  It's a wonderful thing to be on the receiving end of that type of love.  Fortunately I realized what I had and worked hard to not take him for granted.  I can't say I was perfect but he knew I tried and I know just that was enough for him.  I wish everyone could know how safe and secure the right love can be.

I'm beginning to realize that part of his legacy to me, along with my parents and sisters, is the ability to love unconditionally myself.  It means standing back and letting the people you care for do what they need to do.  Period.  It is having generosity of spirit and a true, pure love that respects that they won't always do what you want.  They won't always make you happy.  Sometimes they'll break your heart.  It can mean watching them suffer from afar, keeping your tongue because for the real things to sink in, they have to be discovered by oneself.  Sometimes it hurts.  But most times it's a wonderful thing.  To love people in your life enough to allow them to live their lives as they see fit and still cherish them, is an upper tier kind of love.  To be able to recognize their need and respect it and love them through it is an incredible thing to experience.  Hopefully they keep you close, but if they don't or can't, it doesn't mean you take your ball and go home.  My heart does not play that way.  Neither did my late husband's.  Or Mom or Dad's.  Or Judy, Karen or Becky's.  Your role may change but it doesn't mean your heart gives up.  How would anyone ever achieve anything without someone to love them through it?  That concept is so foreign to me that I can't even imagine it.  It is partly why I struggle now, because I miss having that on the daily.  However, maybe this old gal is finally realizing that the idea now is for her to carry that very same ball and exhibit how it's played, just as I was shown, so I get to pass that ball!  Over and over and over and over! 

One of my favorite lyrics is from Kenny Loggins' "The Real Thing". 

There's only one thing,

You can never give up,

Never compromise on,

And that's the real thing you need in love.

Compromise is necessary in life.  In work and play and with everyone you encounter.  But do not compromise your heart for anyone.  That's a sure way to break it and lose at love.  Listen to your heart and be brave enough to take the hits.  The rewards far outweigh the risks.  This I guarantee.

Photo by Sonyo Estavillo

Midnight Potpourri

It's late at night.  I have work tomorrow morning.  But somehow I feel the need to put all this craziness being batted back and forth in my head like a furious game of ping pong to paper.  I may not win for it, but I will have put forth the effort and for that I may then be tired enough to turn it all off and sleep.

It's in the later hours of the night that it all catches up with me.  Little things.  Funny things.  Crazy things.  Things from my past.  Things that bring back memories of a time that I felt safe.  Memories of knowing I would wake and be able to say good morning to someone who was happy to see me and share the day with me.

We're told not to let a job define us; not to let our role as a parent define us; not to let our financial status define us, etc., etc.  Well how in the hell can that not happen to some degree?   Difficult, but I know believe it's how we manage ourselves in each of those situations that define us.  I believe the secret is in knowing who you are and not letting any title suck you in.  Don't be the concession stand lady who complains about having to be there; be Sandra who helps in the concession stand, who enjoys making the kids laugh and interacting with the parents.  After all, it's one of the joys of sharing your child's life that will be over way before you even knew it began.  Don't go to work and compare what you do, what your title is, how much you make compared to everyone else.  Do what you were hired to do and if it remains what you expected it to be when you so desperately wanted the job, be grateful you have it.  If it no longer suits you, find something else.  It doesn't matter what goes on with others around you.  And don't begrudge other's success; rejoice with them in their achievements!  And be sensitive to their tough times.  If you can treat them with at least as much consideration as you want the people in your family to have, you will have a good work experience.  And the bonus is you don't have to go home with them!  And vice versa when you get home.  Often times we can find ourselves being more pleasant with the cashier at the grocery than the first person who asks "what's for dinner?" when you walk in the door, tired after a long day at work.  I have been figuring out how to no longer be someones wife.  It's a crazy, scary thing at my age.  One minute I think how fortunate I am in that the world is my oyster and I can do what I want.  Yet I hope one day to find someone who would like to join me on my adventure.  Online dating?  Yep, tried it.  Can't say I'm a fan.   Don't know how or when I might stumble across the man who will appreciate me and find my quirkiness and crazy heart attractive, but if it's God's plan, I will.  Until then I need to just continue working on how I define myself at this time in my life.

I heard the frogs out, croaking loudly after the storm had passed through last night.  I so badly wished I was in my childhood bedroom where my window could be open to fall asleep to their symphony, along with the crickets and that wonderfully fresh scent that wafts through the window after a storm.

I heard Eva Cassidy sing "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" as I pulled into my addition tonight.  I did have to sit in the car to hear the end.  I wondered who would remember to be sure that is played when I die.  I think someone will, probably.

I have struggled mightily with some physical pain this week.  No relief with any pain and the need to be creative and uncomplaining to manage what needs to be managed while you're frightened, lonely and exhausted is a challenge.  But having pain in my hip and knee means my right leg is still intact.  I'm a step ahead of many others who have learned to cope far better than I have.

I had an extraordinarily lovely weekend with my son's widow, her new husband and two of my grandchildren.  I was made to feel welcome, treated graciously and am looking forward with them to the arrival of a new baby girl in September.  It seems that it was just yesterday that their world along with mine fell totally apart.  We all carry the pain of the loss of my son in our own ways, however when I visit, I see a loving family functioning better than I ever dreamt might be possible.  I have a new "step-son-in-law" (I have no idea what the politically correct term is for Dustin) who impresses me more and more as time goes by as I get to know him better.  He is a blessing most specifically to Jessica and the kids, and to all of us who love them.  There was a time I had no idea how I would ever come to love the man that stepped in where my son used to live, but now I can't imagine how I couldn't.  What an amazing turn around!

I let a friend down this week by not being able to be with her due to my present physical limitations.  I think I let another down last week as I was having a really "down" week and tend to go underground when that happens and not communicate as I should.  And I scared another one to death on a bad night by actually revealing how I felt during my low times, something that I don't usually share.  Nothing extreme, not to worry, but just out of character, I think; I hope. I hate doing that as I have so many wonderful people in my life who have been by my side, have encouraged me and loved me even when I haven't carried my load.

I am behind.  Behind on my yard work.  Behind on my housework.  I feel as if I'm just running to catch up most of the time.  Between the physical issues I'm having and having a little down spell last week, my motivation is skimming the top of the rug.  Too bad it doesn't have suction so it could act as a vacuum as it lays there.  But I will pull it all together and eventually catch up.  I generally do.

Was my life always so up and down and did I not realize it because I had someone to help share the load and talk things through with?  Someone who would be my soft place to fall and encourage me?  I honestly don't know.  I know what I miss but I also know I am capable.  My grandmother was widowed when she was 42 and never remarried and was remarkable in what she achieved and how she lived her life.  I wish I could ask her how she did it.  I never had more questions for my parents either.  I wonder if I'm becoming a crazy old lady or whether what I experience at this point in my life is normal.  I'm really nervous as on my next birthday I will be as old as my mother was when she died.  She was in better shape than me.  Will I see the other side of 2018?

Random thoughts and ramblings on this June evening.  It's almost 1 p.m. and I have to work tomorrow.  Remember that part about being gracious with your coworkers?  If I don't go in seek of sleep I'll have to keep my door closed tomorrow!

I hope someone out there is brave enough to say I'm not crazy - that things like this go through everyone's head at night.  Not my issues specifically, but all the crazy randomness - and I didn't even mention planning my grocery list when I was trying to sleep earlier.

I'll sign off with my signature "Sweet Dreams" friends.  I wish that for each of you, tonight and always.  Good night, sleep tight.  Don't let the bedbugs bite!  Tomorrow is a brand new beginning.

Mother's Day aka Unconditional Love Day

Mother's Day is just around the corner.  Hard day for me ever since my mother died 22 years ago.  I was 39 year old mother of two sons who were in middle school.  It was one of the most difficult days I had had to endure at that point in my life.  I didn't want to acknowledge it.  I didn't want to celebrate it.  I wanted to turn off the tv, stay out of the stores and not hear or see a thing about it.  Because all of my life Mother's Day had been about MY mom.  I was a mom and I loved seeing my little guys bring me cereal in bed, and receive their handmade gifts and cards, but for the bulk of my life, it was a day to celebrate my mother.  But you adjust.  And then you lose a spouse and you lose a son.  Sometimes due to circumstances beyond anyone's control you spend it alone.  I still have anticipatory dread about the day.  I'm in a funk this very week, yearning for what I remember, what I used to have.  Well, let's see......what exactly was it that I had?

I had a Father that made us understand as children that Mother's Day was for Mom.  It was the only day of the year she got and she really wasn't totally off duty even that day.  But he made breakfast and made sure when we were too little to do it ourselves that we had gifts for her.  Often it was the flowers to be planted that summer - a joy of hers and still very practical.  He demonstrated his deep love for her then and every day.  I think that is the best gift parents can give to their children - is to demonstrate their love for each other always.

I had a mother that also sacrificed a lot of "her" day for her mother and mother-in-law.  It wasn't common as it is now to go to a restaurant for Mother's Day; for one thing not many were open on Sunday as I grew up in a rural community.  Typically we would have something Dad put on the grill and Mom still took care of the rest of the meal.  We would help and wash dishes.  But looking back, Mom still was doing what she always did in making sure the family's events ran smoothly for the day.  She always put others first.  She was the consummate hostess and made everyone feel welcome, even though she was the one who should have been relaxing.

I had a mother who stayed at home until Becky went to kindergarten.  In order to make ends meet with four daughters on Dad's teacher's salary and a newly built home she gardened, she froze food, she canned food, she sewed our clothes and her own.  She was the queen of DIY.  She could arrange flowers, she could cook fabulous meals from scratch and even make the simplest meal seem special.
She taught us to be resourceful.

Mom went back to school after having four daughters to get her Master's Degree while she was teaching.  She taught Spanish, English, Literature, Speech, and Math.   I remember seeing her during her workdays get up before the break of dawn to exercise, bathe, get herself ready for her day, make our lunches, her lunch, then get us up and going before she traveled to the "next town over" to begin her own day.  She would come home, sit for a short bit with Dad and catch up on their days and then was back in Mom mode, making dinner, helping with homework and after dinner beginning grading the homework she brought home herself.  There were many times we might look over and find she had fallen asleep mid worksheet.  The really memorable times were looking over as she was grading journals and seeing tears run down her cheeks at situations other children dealt with daily.  In her own way, she always found a way to try to make their life easier.  Education was important to her and she modeled it for us every day.

She also was a contributor.  Mom was a Girl Scout Leader, she taught English to the migrant students who came to town seasonally.  She was on the Parochial School Board.  She was the found of MADD at one of the two high schools she taught at.  She was a member of Ladies Sodality, Bridge Club, Literary Guild, sponsor of the Math Competition at her high school.  I'm afraid I'm forgetting as much as I've named.  I don't remember her ever speaking these exact words, but through my mom and dad, I had the clear understanding that you don't go through life "taking".  You must contribute and if you don't, don't you dare complain because you forfeited your right.  You have to participate to make a difference.  Oh my gosh, did she make a difference.

Mom, while very loving and kind, was also very practical.  She did her share of disciplining as was necessary (I probably know this better than my other three sisters for reasons we won't talk about here 😉)  She was fair and direct.  And when it was over, it was over and never spoken of again.  I loved that.  Nothing was held over our (my) head(s).  There would be discussion about why punishment was necessary, clarity about what the punishment was to be, and reassurance of her love for us hence the need for punishment.  It was her (their) job to make us the best people they possibly could and they loved us enough to do the hard work.  I'm so very grateful.

Mom had a very kind heart.  I never heard her say an unkind word about anyone.  Even if she was among those who may be talking about someone else, she would find something positive to insert about that person and not indulge in the gossip around her.  She was kind in small, quiet, anonymous ways that had a huge effect.  And I don't remember her complaining about anything.  As I became a wife and mother and tried to replicate some of what she had done during my childhood years, I realized just how much work and planning and detail was involved in what she always made look easy for us.  She might ask us for help in the kitchen or with cleaning the house, but she never complained about what was involved in the life that she had chosen.  She only saw the positive and no need to dwell on any negative, if she even saw it.  That's a role model and a high standard to follow.

And as an adult, a fellow mother, spending time with her was so much fun and so rewarding.  She had a "punny" sense of humor and thrived on her family and husband.  I was shocked that on my first Mother's Day, she brought me a gift!  This was her day and my turn to try to acknowledge the woman who had been my whole life.  She was not just the woman who gave me life, but she was the woman who modeled how to live it.

So now come my beautiful baby boys.  Children that I was blessed with and I often am afraid they gave me way more than I ever could give them.  My heart grew exponentially with the birth of each of them.  Nothing in the world meant more to me than trying to be a good mother to these little guys.

I look back now at film of them and hear their "little" voices at ages 3 and 5 flying kites in the field with my Dad and my eyes fill with tears, remembering their sweetness.  Yes, even sweaty little boy smells were precious to me.  Life 25 years after I was born and raised was very different and their life experiences weren't mine, but I hope that in some way I was able to give them as much guidance and positive examples as my mother gave me.  I hope that no matter if I failed or succeeded, they knew that my love was unconditional and they were the reason for my existence.

Three years ago I had almost gotten used to Mother's Day without my Mom when Adam left this world.  He always had a sweet way of acknowledging me, accompanied with his own brand of humor.  I never failed to hear from him, (or Chad either), but now the day is quieter again by half.
And my heart will always be broken, yet grateful for having had each of them for however long it is.

My sons made me so proud in charting their own courses.  They didn't always do things the easiest way, but neither did I.  And in doing so, they learned life lessons that are invaluable that they can apply and be role models for their own children.  Adam leaves a beautiful legacy for his three and Chad is an incredibly devoted father.  I see a lot of their Grandma in them both.

So this Mother's Day will not be the one that when I was young I always dreamed of having.  But pretty packages and breakfast in bed and dinner in a restaurant cannot and will not replace the gifts that I have been given by having the people I have had and still have in my life.  Flowers are pretty and I love them, but not nearly as much as I love my mother and those two little guys who made me a mother.  Candy is sweet, but no more so than my son's hug and the hugs and kisses from my grandchildren.  Whether I am with them or not, I know I am abundantly blessed and my only wish for Sunday is that each of them know just how strongly my heart beats for them.  I just chronicled what I have "had" and still do, for those people and experiences never leave my heart.  I have no reason to complain.

Thank you for indulging me as I have the need to put words to paper to continue to heal my heart and soul.  May your Mother's Day fill your heart with all that is and has been right in your life.

It's Been a Long Time Coming......

In the past three plus years I have had to re acclimate to everything in my life.  I've worked damn hard at it and I think, overall, I've done an admirable job.  Some days are better than others.  Today turned out not to be one of the better days, after seeing yet another article about the VA failing yet another veteran.  It's odd, because this particular story was just about a room being filthy, and no one died......yet.  It is horrific because this would never be the case in a private pay facility, and our veterans deserve far more than this.  However, as far as the ineptitude and negligence and underfunding and less than mediocre care we have become used to from the VA, this story was not as bad as many.  Yet it has awakened something within me that I can no longer contain.

Specifically, due to the poor care my son received at the hands of the VA, he died.  This is not the place for details but trust me on a few points.  He did not commit suicide, he received sub-par care at the VA and it cost him his life.  The VA created an overwhelmed, devastated widow, three beautiful, bereft orphans, brokenhearted siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins, friends and it created a void in this mother's heart that is not possible to fill.  As a result, there have been changes in relationships - not necessarily by choice, but by sheer consequence, and some of those have been very difficult.  As most of you know, I was widowed just three months before my son died.  I return home daily to a quiet house, haunted with the memories of a man who filled it with love and joy and security for me and a promise that as long as he was here all would be well.  He's no longer here and things are not well.  It is no longer a home but a dwelling.  Home really is where your heart is, and while my heart still resides with my younger son, my grandchildren and the rest of my family, there is no longer a resting place for it.  It's a lonely, isolating existence to be sure.  I overuse social media, but often it is the only way I see what is going on with those I love.  The VA created that change in my life.  I blame no one else.

There are organizations in this country that protect animals better than the VA handles our veterans.  Those men and women signed a contract when they enlisted or were drafted.  They had no choice but to fulfill their contracts or there were swift and severe consequences.   Yet, every year, the "powers that be" in Washington have the ability to change what was promised to those veterans with a swift stroke of the pen and a vote in an afternoon that changes the government's obligation with that same contract in return.  Benefits are lost, reduced, pay is cut, all with lengthy appeals processes.  I have come to believe that their response time is due to two things - underfunding and the hope that if it takes long enough, people will give up and they won't have to open the coffers to care for our veterans.

I wonder why we tolerate it.  I don't understand how it is "okay".  Everyone gives lip service to the fact that it isn't, but what is anyone doing to help make a difference and change it?  These very men and women who are suffering the consequences didn't hesitate to step forward to make a difference.  Why are we so reluctant to step up for them, now, when they need it?  I don't want to hear anyone bemoan this situation who isn't ready to go to work for our veterans.  Put your money, or your time, or your heart where your mouth is.

While I'm on this rant, I'm going to take it a very unpopular step further.  Veterans who like my son, die due to lack of appropriate care get a raw deal.  My son is just as dead as any combat casualty.  I suffer every bit as much as a Gold Star mother.  He knew that was a possibility and so did I.  I don't think either of us anticipated his death would be due to apathy.  Dying in combat I would have understood.  I would be just as devastated, but it would have made sense.  Yet I am not welcome as a Gold Star Mother.  Regardless of what the criteria are, when I inquire and tell my story, no one responds.  No invitation is issued.  My son will never receive the accolades that those who died in combat receive.  His name is not on a street sign, there are no park benches with his name.  He is not on any memorial.  His family is not invited to be recognized for their loss the same way Gold Star Families are.  All this is because his death is an ugly scar on the underbelly of some monster no one wants to tackle.  His death cannot be paraded as heroic for PR, although he served as gallantly, but he was failed by those he trusted the most.  When he became injured, he no longer was of any use to them and he literally felt tossed to the back of the warehouse where all of the other broken equipment went to rust away.  Parents of the suicide victims must feel much the same way, yet finally and appropriately those deaths are beginning to be recognized.  Dying due to government failures is not.

I am tired of people reading these articles and getting angry for the moment, but then going on with their comfortable lives.  I am tired of the spiraling consequences of losing my son.  I stumble across a new one often, and they are no less painful now than they were in the beginning.  I am angry that his death doesn't warrant recognition.  And I know it's misplaced anger, but I even get irritated when I see what comes the way of Gold Star families, knowing my son will never have that recognition.  It's a broken system that leaves hundreds of thousands of people in its wake.  Don't look at me and feel badly for me.  Don't look at me and wonder why I struggle getting "on with it".  Please look at me and ask how you can help stop this from happening to another mother, another family, and most of all another veteran.  They deserve better than we have given them.

Maybe this anger is surfacing now as part of the grief process, but I don't think so.  I have been carrying these thoughts from the very beginning.  I think I'm just becoming strong enough to use my voice.  I guarantee now that I've found it, it's going to be hard to silence me.  My son deserved more.  Every veteran deserves more.  We live in excess and can't even provide a clean hospital room in a VA hospital.  Does it make you proud?  Do you care?  What if it had been a relative of yours?  Do you care enough to write a letter, make your voice heard?  Do you care enough to visit a veteran in the hospital to make sure his experience is going well?  Do you care enough to get involved, the way they did for us?  With every fiber of my being, I hope you do.

Put Me in Coach, I'm Ready to Play

Why is it that when people are no longer in our lives, that somehow we feel as if we no longer belong anywhere?  And to quickly clarify, this is not about not being invited, or wanted.  This is about feeling lost in spite of being in the center of loved ones.

I've come to the conclusion that humans were not meant to live alone.  Men and women, in my opinion, were not created equal by design.  We were created to complement each other; to be able to partner and possess traits, characteristics, emotions that the other needs.  Couples are a two piece jigsaw puzzle.  Sometimes it takes turning them both every direction to find the right fit.  It doesn't always happen immediately.  It can often take patience.  And other times they mesh immediately, and oh when that happens, does it not somehow feel triumphant and meant to be?  But if they don't fit, they don't belong in that puzzle.  Nothing wrong with the pieces - they just haven't found their match yet.

Holidays are always a difficult time.  Easter maybe should be less so, but growing up, it was a grand time.  Spring was on the horizon, color was coming back into the world, and there was anticipation.  As a child it was the anticipation of Grandma at the least coming to be with us, the ceremonial coloring of the Easter eggs, new Easter outfits and a great Sunday with fabulous food, probably more company and those beloved Easter baskets.  As a wife and mother, there was joy in planning and preparing for the holiday.  I loved shopping for miniature suits for my sons.  They often looked like little Easter eggs themselves when they were tiny.  Finding what would bring smiles to their faces in gathering items for the Easter Bunny to leave and cooking some holiday fare brought joy to my own life.  Coloring and hiding eggs and then feigning surprise at the crazy places that darn Bunny left eggs with my sons is a cherished memory.  Tucking them in, exhausted and sated with candy and attention, and going down to relive the day with my partner was fulfilling.

Through no fault of anyone though, more and more at holiday time I find myself relegated to the bench.  Times have changed and young families are torn with which family member to spend the holiday with, or even worse, how to divide one day into 4 different visits with 4 different meals.  Makes no sense to me.  I have chosen to not be an obligation for the actual holiday to add to their chaos.  It seems right.  But that means I'm also out of practice at making a holiday, for myself or anyone else. 

So I shouldn't complain that I'm taking a pass I suppose.  Yet even when the kids were grown and gone and spending the holiday elsewhere, until three years ago, I could still make a turkey breast or buy a small ham and spend the day contentedly with my husband.  I don't and won't go to the trouble for myself.  Somehow it makes the day even more solitary to have a lovely meal and no one to share it with.  I have let myself be on the bench too long I think.  I have been content to let the others play ahead of me.  Yet you can't celebrate a win if you don't participate in it.  Maybe it's time to find the cleats, glove and bat and put in a little practice.

Suck it up Buttercup.  Easter is about new life.  It's about wonder and forgiveness.  It's a time for hope and a time to toil.  Plant the seed, nurture it and be patient for the harvest.  Trust in God.  Trust yourself.  Believe in others.  Do not give in or give up.  Lord knows I have more than enough work at my house to bury myself in that I may not surface until summer.  But there are lots of options for a long holiday weekend beyond that.  It's time to stretch, momma.  Grab your ball cap and get out and swing the bat.  Find your pitch and you may just make contact.  Keep going and you may surprise yourself and hit one out of the park.  Maybe I should consider coaching........yet as I write, I feel the life coursing back through my veins.  I don't think I'm ready to retire just quite yet.  I think maybe I just needed to put my pep talk to paper.  I need to get out and practice.  Practice life as a single.  Maybe someone will want me on their team.  Maybe I'll be the missing piece to someones puzzle. Maybe I'll catch the game winner!  And of course I may strike out.  Yet that doesn't mean I won't get another turn at bat!  But I won't know if I don't play.  Have to finish now - I think it's my turn at bat.

Oh What a Ride aka I Get By With a Little Help From My Friends

Check that.  Make that a LOT of help from my friends.  Since October 22 it has been roller coaster season in my life.  This is a period of time that has too many dates that have tremendous sentiment and/or pain associated with them.  It officially ended on February 20, the anniversary of the day Adam was buried.  There are a few others scattered throughout the rest of the year but in this 5 month period due to birthdays, death dates, funeral dates and four fairly major holidays, the roller coasters are running at top speed in my little corner of the world.

I'm happy to report that with a few exceptions, I'm relieved to see those little cars that can give you such a rush be put to rest for a good little bit.  That's not to say that there haven't been good things during that period as well; there have been.  I've had some wonderful times and experiences during these past five months.  Mostly I've learned more about me.  Wouldn't you think by now that I would be on a more intimate level with who I am?  Yet I continue to discover new things as I evolve through these past few years.

I've learned that some people have agendas.  Some people pay lip service to what they think you want for their own agenda, whatever the hell that may be.  (I actually think I'm putting it together, but hate it, because the more puzzle pieces fit, the more used I feel.)  However not everyone has a bad agenda.  I have learned to trust my gut more and not err on the side of caution but certainly pay attention to the red flags!

I've learned you're never too old for new friends.  I have a new, dear friend who is on her very own journey and has been working long and hard at it for years.  I believe she has finally come to a place where she is truly discovering the beautiful being that has resided within her.  I believe she is becoming acquainted with that amazing girl/woman that was pushed to the side without nearly the acknowledgement her exquisite self is entitled to.  Beyond all of that joy, she has picked me up to take me along for the ride and share her experience and tools so that I may continue to grow as well.  Her presence has been that bar that locks down over your waist on the coaster car for me, before we take off.  She helps to ground me.

I've learned that nothing in the world replaces long time, steadfast and true friends.  These are the friends who take turns riding with me, whether they love roller coasters or not.  They show up without fail, some on appointed, recurring days, others as they can and feel the need.  They strap in beside me and hunker down and scream and cry and laugh with me.   They take care of me in case the whole ride makes me feel sick and sit with me as I recover with words that soothe and settle not just the tummy but the soul.  Some of them ride WAY more than they ever planned to and you ladies know who you are.  But it is due to all of you that I have the courage to go back through the turnstile every day because I have never been alone.  If I have, it was solely due to my own choosing.  More often than not, I choose to have you and not one of you has ever failed me.

I've learned that I am blessed with unconditional love beyond what my parents and husband had for me.  My family - my loving, generous, funny, caring family I consider my seat belt.  Sometimes they ride along too.  I know that whether they are there or not in person, all that we have shared, all the love and concern and history that bonds us keeps me rooted and safe.  I know that they are with me, whether I can see them or not.  The most important thing is that I feel them there even when they are ever so far away physically.  I am forever safe with them.

Finally I've learned to keep living.  There is the excitement of meeting new people.  Sometimes you're not sure just yet where they are going to fit and whether they are going to stay, but they are people whose presence right now I thoroughly enjoy.  People who challenge me intellectually, who challenge my wit, my spirit and my courage are worth getting to know.  People who fit that description are the only ones who even need apply at this point.  How and where they belong remains to be seen, but it's good to have them in the equation.  They are the rush as we climb to the top.  They will attempt an adventure with me.   They seem to enjoy me even in my genuine, clumsy, trusting, absurd state!  My only hope is that they don't disappear when it gets scary, but at the least can take my hand as a friend on the way down.  I have the rest of the posse in place to do the hard work! 

So what happens in the off season?  I'd like to borrow from the USMC and say improvise, adapt and overcome, but that is my "in season" mode.  Off season needs to be for research, regrouping, refreshing, relaxing.  It needs to be when I take care of business to my fullest potential and bank what I can in case I need it over the next winter.  Every year I find that I am able to save more and the ride is just a little less frightening.  I find that I am able to relax more and know that I'm not doing any of this alone.  As I've stated many times before, and will repeat again because it bears repeating - "the joy in anything is in sharing it with someone else".  Thanks Dad for that.  It's a blessing and a curse, just as the roller coaster goes up and down and around and around.  There is nothing in this life that seems to be so simple.  It's okay.  I now travel with the best people in the world, a willing spirit, a love of adventure, and a barf bag just in case.  Good to go.  Thanks for coming with me.

How Can You Mend A Broken Heart?

I have had some tough stuff in the past few weeks; some physical, some emotional and some just regular crappy day to day stuff.  It's also a tough time when I look at the calendar.  So many days in the last 3 weeks that mark events are associated with heartbreak.  Given all of that, my sincerest resolve this year has been to make the shift from sadness to celebration.  And whaddayaknow?  It seems to be working!  I remember just a year ago, two specific holidays hurt more than any others - Valentine's Day and Mother's Day.  I choose to not let that happen in 2018.  It has nothing to do with how much I loved, how lonely I can be, how I miss certain people or how hard things have been for me.  It has to do with so much more.

I have made a conscious decision to change because first and foremost, only I am responsible for my very own happiness.  I have the power to still find joy in life even when I have unpleasant issues to deal with.  Let me say that again, just because it makes me so happy!  I HAVE THE POWER TO STILL FIND JOY IN LIFE, EVEN WHEN I HAVE UNPLEASANT ISSUES TO DEAL WITH!  Sorry - it just felt so good, it bears repeating with caps and a beautiful blue color!  Now, let me get back to the rest of the story!  (Didn't you love Paul Harvey?  Sorry, my ADD is showing!  😵)

Back to it......while I have always known that even with what has been placed upon my plate, I also have been incredibly blessed.  I also know, that having been raised in a "Walton's Mountain" environment where love superseded everything else and I was surrounded with people who showered that love on my sisters and me, I am luckier than so very many.  I could tally up the things that have gone awry in my life but it would not even begin to be a fraction of what has gone right.  So why continue to do it?  We all know the definition of insanity, and whether or not that applies to me is not being polled right now - sorry guys!  On any given day I love to be crazy happy, crazy fun, crazy loving, but never just crazy.  Not happening.  Crazy will not be my noun, it will be my adjective.
I'm rambling because this is such a triumphant moment for me and I hope you'll bear with me.  I'm going to go all over the place, but I promise to tie it up in a beautiful red bow before I end!

I was reminded recently by the incredible woman who has been my friend for 54 years.  She is someone I admire beyond words, who loves me enough to be honest with me and I can take what she offers because it is straight from her heart, with simple purity and love and concern for me.  She reminded me, very appropriately not so very long ago that I should never forget that even though I have had heartbreak, I still have the most amazing life.  Damn straight I have!  And in their own ways, there is my friend of 30+ years who offers the same love and concern and honesty, along with Marine moms, and women I know only through FB, and my sons' babysitter, and the mother of one of Adam's girlfriends, my sisters, my family, my coworkers, my hometown friends, coworkers from other employers, and the list goes on.

I came home tonight to a beautiful card, and a beautiful gift, from two different people reminding that they were thinking of me this week, meaning that they have not forgotten Adam, or me.  I make it hard to forget me with all of my FB posts, I know, but my greatest fear is that Adam will be forgotten.  Guess what else?  Ain't happening!!!!  Who am I kidding?  He was a joyful, funny, intelligent, loving, devoted, ornery, brave father, husband, son, brother, relative, friend, Marine, and last but not least, pain in the ass.  I have been shown how many lives he touched beyond what I knew and my guess is that for every one I am aware of, there is another I'm not.  I don't have to carry that torch anymore.

If you know me, you know my affinity for all things Wizard of Oz and how I relate so much to the story and how Somewhere Over the Rainbow is one of my all time favorite songs.  I wanted to be more frugal this year and quite getting manicures, but the week I was going to quit, I realized I wanted my nails to look really nice for an occasion where I wanted to look my best.  Therefore I just chose to go to my hair salon and get another one instead of where I had been going.  And guess yet again!  I LOVED the nail tech (Rita) and I LOVE being in my salon.  Now I have never been a fan of nail art, but in talking and Rita showing me what she can do, I decided that I wanted her to stamp broken hearts on my "accent fingers" for Valentine's Day.  I knew I wanted them for a specific reason that wasn't sad, but figured others wouldn't see it that way.  When I got there this evening, she had a sparkly red chosen and a white base for the other two fingers to have the broken hearts put on.  All I could see, delightfully so, was Dorothy's ruby slippers reminding me that I don't need to go looking for my heart's desire when it's been in my backyard all along.  I'm snapping those sparkly red fingers just as you might click your heels in ruby slippers.  And when I do that those broken hearts are no longer sad, but powerful reminders of great love, and my growing strength.  And voila!  I'm wearing my own encouragement!

Surprise!  Broken hearts can mend.  You can sustain loss and pain and sorrow.  And you have a choice.  You can drown in it, or you can choose to embrace it, acknowledge it and go forward stronger, smarter, with a bigger heart.  The only reason I could not recover is because I would choose not to.  NOT HAPPENING!

Have you ever admired a mosaic?  I love them.  Think about how beautiful a mosaic is and what has it been created from?  Broken glass, broken dishes, broken pottery.  Something beautiful broke, but someone took those pieces and understood that the joy in those pieces was not meant to be gone, but meant to be revived in a totally different medium.  This is my best analogy for missing someone who has gone on without you.  I hope you see it too.

I have some sucky things that have happened, that are happening even still.  But I also have way more exciting things, people, love and joy in my life.  I can't stay stuck.  I am choosing joy.  I am choosing life.  I am choosing celebration.  Which brings me back to those two punishing holidays I have disliked so much.  Losing my son on Valentine's Day felt doubly cruel.  Missing my dad on his Valentine Birthday has been sad.  Burying my grandfather on Valentine's Day seemed harsh.  Missing my late husband on Valentine's Day has been lonely.  But it finally came together for me this year.  I said "Sandra, you big dummy!  What is Valentine's Day all about?  Love!"  Cue forehead slap.  Those losses are reminders of some of the greatest love that has been bestowed upon me.  Celebrate that!  There are women who were never able to bear a child and know the joy my son brought to my life.  Some have never married, or married the right one and understand what a true partner in marriage is.  Some never knew their fathers or grandfathers, or had less than stellar ones.  But not me.  I could not have asked for more and probably got more than I had a right to.  That bears celebrating!  So instead of grinding my teeth, rolling my eyes, or muttering a curse when everywhere I turn I see lovers and flowers and romance, I'm going to smile and take a piece of my shattered heart and place it in the most beautiful mosaic my life is becoming.  If you're reading this, your piece will be in that mosaic as well, for I carry you with me.  I'll deal with Mother's Day after I've finished celebrating Valentine's Day!

I finally have figured it out.  How do you mend a broken heart?  It's simple.  You CHOOSE to, with love, with joy and with gratitude.  Happy Valentine's Day my loves!  Happy Valentine's Day to you, with all of my healing heart!