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!

Finding My Power Along the Yellow Brick Road

Ah, this writing comes in spurts.  Just as the good and the bad in life kind of hit in cycles, so does my ability to express myself.  I'd like to think that the writing comes more easily when I myself am in a "better" place and not wrought up with nerves and worry and despair.  Yep.  I said it.  Despair.  I know I preach positivity and faith and all things good.  And I'm not lying when I go there.  But the truth is, I have some very deep, dark days from time to time and when that happens everything gets bound up, all knotted and gnarled and so hard to unravel, that I'm the one who becomes unraveled in trying to cope.  (And we all know that does NO one any good!)  As time goes by, I'm learning what tools I need to keep close and how to cleanse myself of what I need to carry and what I don't.  I'm learning that contrary to everything ever said about a woman, she can learn to compartmentalize.  It doesn't mean that something totally unconnected won't still be a trigger elsewhere i.e. a scent that was particularly dear to her, or an expression, or a particular sports team on a winning streak; goofy things really.  But with great determination and focus, you can teach this old dog new tricks!

Everyone knows as the calendar goes, I am in the throes of some of my hardest days.  Reasonable or unreasonable, the feelings are there, therefore it is a fact.  I, more than anyone, am anxious to change that.  I have recently discovered several new, very helpful tools of a variety of manner that are becoming VERY helpful.  I am using essential oils.  They don't change situations, but they can help calm my body and mind so that my reactions are less frantic.  I have found a new philosophy on how to cleanse myself of negativity that I've held on to, specifically regarding myself, that is proving to be incredibly therapeutic; and because I can do it myself, it saves lots of co-pays!  And I am learning to relax and rely more on God.  I have a deep and profound faith, but I don't always want to give God the time He needs for what He has in mind for me as opposed to what I want NOW!  The more I am able to calm myself, the more pliable I become for what He has planned.

What I have learned about these times when I am able to achieve stillness within myself, I am able to be cognizant of what I search for so relentlessly, which is reassurance.  Reassurance in what?  In everything.  I want to be reassured that those I love who have gone before me are at peace and still with me in spirit.  I want to be reassured that I am not as alone as I feel so much of the time.  I want to be reassured that I am not just some goofy old broad who has become so self absorbed that I no longer am relevant to anything or anyone.  I want to be reassured that I do have a bright future still to look forward to.  I want to be reassured that I am lovable even though I have no one to tell me every day.  And guess what's in my way of achieving all of that????  Me!!!

I do want to share an experience I had last night, as Sunday was not an especially good day for me, and Monday was the lowest day I may have ever had in my life.  There was total meltdown for many reasons.  I had no choice but to allow it and even by the end of the day to embrace it.  By the evening I was tired of it, yet I knew it was real and had to be dealt with just as sure as filing taxes; unpleasant but necessary.  I was able to communicate with some people I love and trust beyond words and the message from them was the same, even though they live miles apart and all know me from very different places.  The key though, is that they DO know me.  Tuesday I got up and went to work, still feeling a little "off" but resolved that a new day has brand new opportunities.  I employed the tools I've been gathering in my own little "survival toolbox", carried it with me throughout the day and utilized it as necessary.  By bedtime last night, I was feeling better than I have in a long while, as well as exhausted and ready to sleep (which is a bonus for me!)  I have created a new bedtime ritual and after applying and diffusing some oils, reading some scripture, some inspirational words, centering my breathing with my core and a little Hawaiian philosophy, I was out like a light, to the soothing music I have on Pandora.  Somewhere in the night I awoke, (or maybe just dreamed I awoke - it matters not as it was incredibly real to me either way), to Michael Jackson singing "You Are Not Alone".  I did not open my eyes, but I heard the entire song.  When it was over, I slipped right back into the same deep sleep I woke from.  As morning arrived and I woke up, I know that whether that was a dream or real, I had just received some of that darned reassurance I so long for.  And it's nothing I don't know.  I haven't learned to trust myself, to love myself or believe in myself as fully as this life requires to become the champion I know I carry inside.

The irony that "The Wizard of Oz" and "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" have always been my favorites and almost my signature movie and song, a fact that is not lost on me.  I have a beautiful print hanging in my office that is now also officially another tool (maybe a crowbar) to pry me out of my quicksand thinking.  "You've always had the power my dear.....you just had to learn it for yourself."  I realize that I am Dorothy, the scarecrow, and cowardly lion all tied up.  I have the heart, but I don't always use my brain, or have the courage, or believe that I can manage on my own.  The tin man I have covered, as I lead with my heart.  I just need to pull back that darn curtain and remove myself from the crazy controls and use what has already been given to me, by God, my family and friends.  Move over Elphaba, you wicked witch....I'm about to take the yellow brick road like the good witch I am!

Let There Be Light.......

It's that time of year.  I'm headed straight into the hardest month of the year for me emotionally.  People (and even my own rational brain sometimes) tell me to not let it get to me.  That these days are just days, not unlike any other day of the year.  True enough I suppose.  However, these two particular days that I'm facing soon, have never been "any other day of the year".  January 22.  Adam's birthday.  I think, without question, this is the toughest.  This is when, for his entire life, I woke my son up by singing Happy Birthday, without fail, no matter where he was.  I still sing it and hope somewhere he hears me.  This was "our" day.  It was a day that he and I shared exclusively in our own way for 33 years.  I was a single mother, giving birth to this beautiful boy, and it was the two of us against the world for a time. His birthday is a remembrance of one of the two greatest gifts God has ever blessed me with.  I have had the incredible fortune to have the very dearest of friends with me for his birthday since he died.  They are making their pilgrimage to me again, but this year his birthday falls on a weekday and I'm worried about how I cope with that.  Have I grown enough to do that day alone?  Can I go to work and not be a mess?  It's so hard to explain to anyone who has not lost a child.  I don't mean to be needy, or emotionally overwrought, or nuts.  I think sometimes, I try TOO hard to overcome it all and maybe no longer give in to the pain when I need to.  Everyone wants me to be better.  I want to be better.  But what if I'm not?  What if I never will be?

Then comes Valentine's Day.  Odd that just three weeks to the day on the calendar after I remember Adam on his birthday, comes the day he left this earth for heaven.  Valentine's Day.  My dad's birthday.  The day my grandfather was buried.  The day for lovers.  A stark reminder that I now am no longer part of a couple, but instead a widow.  The day that is glorified for weeks on the radio, TV, Internet and everywhere else to celebrate with the one that you love.  Marketing is harsh for those who grieve and are lonely.

I'm not writing this for the purpose of pity.  This is my purging.  No one wants to listen to me whine about how I dread this dreary time of year.  But I have to get it out of my being and onto paper.  I have to expel some of the angst that I carry with me about this.  And if I write it, I will share it, for those who are in the same boat I am, as so many of my newer friends are.  But if you're tired of it, it's so simple; you just don't have to read it.

I've known people in my life who have lost children prior to my son's death.  Some very close to me.  And even then, I knew I couldn't understand it and I marveled at how there didn't seem to be a script for it.  Everyone managed differently.  Everyone did the best that they could.  And they all were in very different places.  Sometimes I feel that parents who have buried the children are the walking dead.  Make no mistake, something very real dies within you when your child dies before you.  And it is my job to be sure that I don't let that death inside cause everything else to rot inside me and around me.  It takes more nurturing than gardening and I never had much patience for that either.

This past six months or so, I have worked VERY hard at trying to establish a new normal.  I have made a habit of putting myself back into the rhythm of life beyond my home and my job.  I have gone many places, spent time with many people and can say that most of the time I have had an absolutely delightful time.  The difference is that I used to be able to do those things and go home and still feel fulfilled.  Home now is just a shelter.  It is not necessarily a respite.  It is a place where I spend time I don't have scheduled, where the chores never end, where I sleep and where very few people come to visit.  It is where the mask comes off and the pain of my reality comes back to haunt me.  I feel that "home" eludes me as home is where your heart is, is it not?  And my heart is truly adrift.

I've shared before that the most accurate definition I've read about grief is this:  "Grief is love with nowhere to go".  I don't know who authored that but it is spot on.  I have so much love that needs a receptacle, but that is not easy either.  I have so many people in my life already that I love and who love me.  But that love already has been budgeted and is accounted for.  The problem is now after losing my husband and son I have a surplus.  And as much as I want to be able to share that with someone, I am equally terrified.  Love requires risk.  Love has brought me my greatest joys, but also my greatest sorrows.  I am learning, very slowly, to let go of the fear of being hurt again.  I have decided that the greatest tragedy would be to live without loving fully again.  Will it happen for me?  Only God knows.  I believe it might.  I don't know with whom or when, but there is always a chance.

I am my own worst enemy and harshest critic.  I over think, I worry, I doubt and I mourn.  And I think sometimes the reason I am so very lost in this is because that is so counter to my personality.  I love to laugh, I love to be with people, I love to have fun, I love to live.  So.  It's time to think of all I've overcome in the past, draw on that, and arm myself with what I know works and shrug off what doesn't.  May I find the grace to grant myself the same patience and tenderness I would willingly give to others.  May I find the courage to know I will be not just okay, but good in this life, whether I go it alone or find someone to share my life with.  May these special days bring more smiles of happy memories than tears of sorrow for what I missed.  May I be grateful more for what I have been given than what I have lost.  I will continue to go forward into the next month armed with my faith, the care and concern of those who love me, and a desire to do better and be better.  God decided that many close to me should die before me.  He did not sentence me to death.  I need to be about the business of living, fully, in love and in light as He has willed it so.  And with His help and grace, I will find my way.  During this dark month, I will use Matthew 5:15 as my inspiration; "Neither do men light a candle, and put it under a bushel, but on a candlestick; and it giveth light unto all that are in the house".  

Happy Birthday Adam.  Happy Valentine's Day to everyone I love.  This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine........

The Times, They Are A'Changin'

Gosh, it's bee a long time since I've written anything I felt that I wanted to share.  Sometimes I feel that it's important to share my journey so that others don't feel so alone on theirs, whatever it may be.  We all have trials and burdens to bear and they come in many forms.  It often helps me to know that while I'm sorry other people have pain in their lives, that what I'm feeling and experiencing is more normal than I realized.  I'm traveling somewhere I've never been and have no point of reference for the culture of this new life.  Sometimes I wonder if people are tired of hearing about it and just wonder "why she just can't get on with it?"  Trust me, sometimes I feel EXACTLY that way myself.  I continue to learn so much as I continue the path that God has put me on.  I'm getting to know me in a way I might never have before had I not lost 4 of the 5 people closest to me in my life.

The thing is, when you are alone, really alone, as in getting up alone, going to bed alone, eating alone, watching TV alone (you get the picture), you are forced to listen to yourself; rely on yourself; trust yourself.  I was so very fortunate to always have been surrounded with people who had my best interests at heart, so I never had to worry too much about it.  If I wandered too far off the beaten path, someone was close by to take me by the hand and bring me back to where I needed to be.  That has changed.  It certainly does not mean that I don't have a fabulous family and fabulous support group, but it does mean that they can only be aware of what I tell them as we are spread far and wide.  That allows for some whitewashing from time to time, or just going underground for a bit.

It's now been just over three years ago that my sweet husband took his last breath.  Seems like forever ago, yet other times only yesterday.  I've said before, and am even more cognizant of the fact that he loved me in such an incredibly unconditional manner that I believe I was extraordinarily lucky.  His quest was to love, protect, provide and dote on me, while still knowing my faults and tolerating my quirks.  He did it wholly and completely, including my family and friends as part of the package.  My happiness became his happiness.  I knew I was lucky and tried not to take that for granted, however, looking back I'm sure that there were times that I did.  Men of his character (and you can use both definitions for him there) are rare and are as precious as gems.

I have realized that I don't necessarily prefer to be alone.  Most of the time I cope quite well, but there are occasional events i.e. theater, concerts, weddings, etc. which attending without someone makes you feel your loss even more keenly and are to be avoided almost at all costs.  It's so hard to watch couples at these events lean their heads in closely to whisper and laugh, to lead the other onto the dance floor, to just enjoy being half of a whole.  To be near couples who are so absorbed in each other while you are mutely, acutely aware that you are solitary in the midst of a crowd brings an ache from deep within.

All of this realization means that I have to work harder; harder on my resolve; harder on my self confidence; harder on being resilient to tough situations.  I have lost my soft place to land.  I have lost four of the five people who have always had my very best interests at heart.  People change, relationships change, times change and all of that requires that I be adaptable to just maintain my sanity, let alone be happy.

And to clarify, I am not unhappy.  I still find great joy in my family, and my son and grandchildren in particular.  I have exceptional friends who I can hang with and laugh myself silly.  I don't want these losses to define me and make me less of who I was.  I want to forge ahead and become stronger and braver than I ever imagined.  I want to learn how to not care about those who don't care about me and invest more in those who do.  I want to be confident that I have the knowledge to take care of whatever may come my way - if not directly, through research and finding the right assistance.  I want to be wanted and not an obligation.  I want to always be able to smile and laugh and see the beauty in this world around me, whether it be the night sky, a beautiful sunrise, a thunderstorm, or the falling leaves.  I find it in the smile on the woman working the drive-through when you engage her in real conversation, the neighbor who goes out of their way on a regular basis to be kind, and most especially in the eyes of people we meet, especially the children.

I've been broken and am rebuilding myself and I bet there will be some screws left that were loose in the first place.  That's okay.  I won't need everything I had before and will need other things I never dreamed of "before".

The world has gone crazy.  I could and some may say that happened to me a long time ago.  But I choose to continue working on the new and improved me.  I have no idea where that will take me, whether I will be that person alone or with someone.  I don't know where I will live, what I will do.  What I do know is that I want to be better than I was, for I know so much more than before.  I have an empathy that comes readily now for things I didn't understand before.  When you know better, you do better.  We need more love, understanding, caring and respect for each other.  Although life may feel very insular sometimes, it is so much easier to lean on each other, share our talents and love.

The holidays are fast upon us, and often not easy for any of us in one way or another.  I will find a way to sustain them, embrace them and I imagine I will even enjoy them.  The difference now is that I have moments where I reflect on "how it was before" and just how damn lucky I have been, which is why the struggle now is so real.  That alone is enough to make me smile for what was and has been.  My heart has been broken, but it's still beating, I'm still breathing and holy cow!  I want more of what this life has to offer!  My story is not over.  I have no idea where it will go or how it might end, but I guarantee I'm here to embrace it as fully and completely as possible.  And moving forward now means having a realization that every tough moment of sorrow and loss has made me more capable to move forward, with grace, dignity and joy.  My heart will never forget, and that will be why I am able to be better, achieve more, and offer a heart full of compassion and true love, for it has been shown to me.  The times, they certainly are a'changin'.