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.