I know it's been awhile. It's not that I haven't felt anything or thought anything in these past few weeks. It's just that either I can't, or don't have the energy needed, to put those thoughts and feelings into words. And even if I did, the things I would write would probably worry a few people that I've finally done it...I've finally gone off the deep end.
I've always been the level-headed type of person. I analyze everything. I can think of a rational explanation for ANYTHING. But this? I haven't quite been able to figure it out yet.
Believe me, I question it myself sometimes. My sanity, that is.
I'm sad. I miss him. I'm in disbelief...still. But when the reality of it does sink in for a few minutes, I get incredibly sad. Then I have moments, or even days, where I feel incredibly happy and hopeful for the future. During those moments, I can't help but think (and feel terribly guilty at the same time) about how I would have never had these opportunities if, well, you know....
And then I feel everything in between those two extremes.
Nobody in my life has a clue as to how unstable my moods feel. How I feel like I'm either on the summit of an insurmountable hill or I'm in the darkest valley that ever existed.
Is this what the rest of my life will be like? Will I always have these extremes? Sure, the lows have come with a little less frequency and they don't last as long as they used to. But I would rather that things stabilized a bit more...become more "balanced" ;) ...
I wish the intensity would soften. I wish the change in between the two could become more gradual. I can handle the time-frame....the amount of time that each mood sticks around. I can adjust to that. After all, I can remind myself (and truly believe) that better days will come again. What I can't handle is the fact that I only have mere minutes of warning that my mood is changing. I can tell when it's going to spike and I can also tell when it's going to rapidly drop.
I'm tired of feeling so excited about something (like starting college) one minute, and then the next minute thinking, "What's the F'ing point?" I hate feeling so conflicted. How can I allow myself to get so excited about something that wouldn't have happened if the worst hadn't happened? But it did...so I do.
And then I feel guilty.
I also feel guilty that this...my life...all of these writings...all of my thoughts...have become about Me and My Life now...instead of his life and how much I miss him. I feel guilty because that feels so damn selfish.
And I haven't found a damn thing I can do to change it or prevent it. Or to soften the blow. All I can do is keep plugging along...forging forward. I can only enjoy the ups and fake-it-till-I-make-it through the lows. And I always do...I always make it through to the other side.
Maybe after these few months are over, it will get easier. That's what I've been hoping for since day one. But this time of year sucks...and it will always suck.
D-day anniversaries. Diagnosis day. Death day.
Thanksgiving.
Christmas.
His Birthday. (Happy Birthday tomorrow, Baby!)
New Years.
Valentine's Day?
Just winter, in general.
All I have to do is get past all of those days and I will get a break.
Until our anniversary.
Until Father's Day.
Until the lake.
Until Monday.
Until the 3rd Wednesday of the month.
Until the 5th of Never.
You get my point....
I'm just trying to make myself feel better here.
Tomorrow will be a brand new day. Oh yeah, but tomorrow is his birthday...
Happy 54th, Chuck. Too young.
But it's still a brand new day. A day that can be anything any one of us chooses to make of it.
But it's your birthday.
It's your birthday. Yet you won't ever get any older.
You were 52.
That's way too young to die. Way too young.
And I'm only 38. Too young to be dealing with this.
But I am. And I will.
For the rest of my life.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Tis The Season
My Christmas tree is up and decorated.
Big deal, right?
Well this year it is a big deal. It's the Christmas tree that almost wasn't. Putting up the tree has always been my favorite part of the holiday...even as a teenager. But it takes a lot of energy (which I sometimes still sorely lack) to drag the boxes out of the attic, decorate and then put those same boxes back up in the attic until it's time to do the reverse in a few weeks to put it all back away for another year. And, after all, the boys will likely be getting mostly money instead of a bunch of gifts this year so what is the point of a tree if there will be nothing under it on Christmas morning?
I assumed the boys didn't care whether or not we had a tree. They usually don't even express interest in helping decorate it. But they brought up the subject over the weekend. They wanted a Christmas tree. I figured any tree would do...as long as we had one. So I asked them if they still wanted to go back to the same tree farm we've went to almost every year for the past 16 years to cut one down...or if they thought we should just go to the parking lot up the street and buy a pre-cut tree. Without hesitation, they opted to go to the tree farm.
They chose to do what we have always done. They chose tradition. Our family tradition.
My heart wasn't really in it this time but it went okay. We had okay weather. We found an okay tree. We had an okay day.
I managed to get the tree up in the stand and watered that evening. That's ALL I did. When the kids were in school the next morning, I decided I could at least get the lights on the damn thing. And maybe some garland. I figured I would put the ornaments on it later in the week.
I have never been a Scrooge when it comes to Christmas. Not even last year. I might have been walking around in a daze last year, but I certainly wasn't grumpy. But, wow, this year? I'm glad I was alone when I put the lights and garland on the tree. It seems like all I did was complain. I kept saying to myself, "Well, that doesn't look right...but who cares? I don't even want to do this. I don't care what it looks like." But I still fussed with it until I got it looking halfway decent.
When I finally got the lights and garland on, I noticed something. My mood had gradually shifted. I decided I would even put the ornaments on that day and get it all finished. After the tree was finished I realized that maybe I am getting a little bit of holiday spirit in me. I didn't put out all of my holiday decorations but I did put a few more things around the house than I planned on. And I made the decision that I'm going to bake cookies this year. I even began writing out my shopping list.
I figured this Christmas would be more difficult than last year. While that still holds true, it's different than I imagined. It just reinforced what I've been saying all along. You can never be sure how different things are going to affect you. And nothing ever ends up being the way you planned or prepared for. I don't think that will ever change.
I talked to a very good friend about that earlier this morning. She is going into her 7th holiday season since losing her dear son. She mentioned the fact that this has been a particularly difficult Christmas for her so far. (Not that any of them have been Easy.) I responded that I'm starting to realize that it will be a guessing game every year as to how it will affect me. Some years will be pretty good, some years will be pure torture and some years will fall somewhere in the middle. The tricky part is not having a clue ahead of time until it actually gets here. I wanted her to tell me I'm wrong. I wanted her to tell me that it gets progressively better every year. That there is a consistent upswing on the grief curve. But she couldn't do that. She could only confirm what I already know.
I hate that she has had to suffer such an unimaginable loss...but I'm so grateful to have a friend who has traveled this journey a few steps ahead of me. We can talk about things that others might not understand. We can cry over things that others may consider trivial. We can joke about things that others might consider insensitive or taboo or just downright morbid. We can understand each other...sometimes without even finishing a thought. And sometimes with just a look.
And hopefully we can continue to lift each other up. And motivate each other. The boys weren't my only motivation for getting a tree this year. My friend also wasn't going to get a Christmas tree. The topic came up a few times in recent weeks. But she ended up giving in and getting one which definitely helped motivate me to do the same.
After all, this could be Adam's last Christmas at home for quite some time. So on Christmas morning, even if there are only two envelopes containing cash on the tree...even if there isn't a single gift under the tree...well, it will still be Christmas. I will be grateful for the time with the boys. I will be grateful for my entire family.
I'm glad we put up a Christmas tree.
I'm glad my friend is putting up a Christmas tree.
On a day that is centered around love and family, her and I (and countless others) will always remember those we have lost...just as it is on every other day of the year. But it's also important to celebrate what and who we still have in our lives.
Sometimes it just takes a dear friend to remind us. Thank you, My Friend.
Big deal, right?
Well this year it is a big deal. It's the Christmas tree that almost wasn't. Putting up the tree has always been my favorite part of the holiday...even as a teenager. But it takes a lot of energy (which I sometimes still sorely lack) to drag the boxes out of the attic, decorate and then put those same boxes back up in the attic until it's time to do the reverse in a few weeks to put it all back away for another year. And, after all, the boys will likely be getting mostly money instead of a bunch of gifts this year so what is the point of a tree if there will be nothing under it on Christmas morning?
I assumed the boys didn't care whether or not we had a tree. They usually don't even express interest in helping decorate it. But they brought up the subject over the weekend. They wanted a Christmas tree. I figured any tree would do...as long as we had one. So I asked them if they still wanted to go back to the same tree farm we've went to almost every year for the past 16 years to cut one down...or if they thought we should just go to the parking lot up the street and buy a pre-cut tree. Without hesitation, they opted to go to the tree farm.
They chose to do what we have always done. They chose tradition. Our family tradition.
My heart wasn't really in it this time but it went okay. We had okay weather. We found an okay tree. We had an okay day.
I managed to get the tree up in the stand and watered that evening. That's ALL I did. When the kids were in school the next morning, I decided I could at least get the lights on the damn thing. And maybe some garland. I figured I would put the ornaments on it later in the week.
I have never been a Scrooge when it comes to Christmas. Not even last year. I might have been walking around in a daze last year, but I certainly wasn't grumpy. But, wow, this year? I'm glad I was alone when I put the lights and garland on the tree. It seems like all I did was complain. I kept saying to myself, "Well, that doesn't look right...but who cares? I don't even want to do this. I don't care what it looks like." But I still fussed with it until I got it looking halfway decent.
When I finally got the lights and garland on, I noticed something. My mood had gradually shifted. I decided I would even put the ornaments on that day and get it all finished. After the tree was finished I realized that maybe I am getting a little bit of holiday spirit in me. I didn't put out all of my holiday decorations but I did put a few more things around the house than I planned on. And I made the decision that I'm going to bake cookies this year. I even began writing out my shopping list.
I figured this Christmas would be more difficult than last year. While that still holds true, it's different than I imagined. It just reinforced what I've been saying all along. You can never be sure how different things are going to affect you. And nothing ever ends up being the way you planned or prepared for. I don't think that will ever change.
I talked to a very good friend about that earlier this morning. She is going into her 7th holiday season since losing her dear son. She mentioned the fact that this has been a particularly difficult Christmas for her so far. (Not that any of them have been Easy.) I responded that I'm starting to realize that it will be a guessing game every year as to how it will affect me. Some years will be pretty good, some years will be pure torture and some years will fall somewhere in the middle. The tricky part is not having a clue ahead of time until it actually gets here. I wanted her to tell me I'm wrong. I wanted her to tell me that it gets progressively better every year. That there is a consistent upswing on the grief curve. But she couldn't do that. She could only confirm what I already know.
I hate that she has had to suffer such an unimaginable loss...but I'm so grateful to have a friend who has traveled this journey a few steps ahead of me. We can talk about things that others might not understand. We can cry over things that others may consider trivial. We can joke about things that others might consider insensitive or taboo or just downright morbid. We can understand each other...sometimes without even finishing a thought. And sometimes with just a look.
And hopefully we can continue to lift each other up. And motivate each other. The boys weren't my only motivation for getting a tree this year. My friend also wasn't going to get a Christmas tree. The topic came up a few times in recent weeks. But she ended up giving in and getting one which definitely helped motivate me to do the same.
After all, this could be Adam's last Christmas at home for quite some time. So on Christmas morning, even if there are only two envelopes containing cash on the tree...even if there isn't a single gift under the tree...well, it will still be Christmas. I will be grateful for the time with the boys. I will be grateful for my entire family.
I'm glad we put up a Christmas tree.
I'm glad my friend is putting up a Christmas tree.
On a day that is centered around love and family, her and I (and countless others) will always remember those we have lost...just as it is on every other day of the year. But it's also important to celebrate what and who we still have in our lives.
Sometimes it just takes a dear friend to remind us. Thank you, My Friend.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Happy 18th...My First Pride & Joy
It wouldn't really be fair to write about Brandon's first day of high school without writing about the next big significant event in Adam's life, would it?
Adam was 16 when his Dad died.
Today he turned 18.
Granted, he was almost 17 when Chuck passed away.
Honestly, I don't even REMEMBER Adam's birthday last year.
I don't remember how or why or with whom or where I spent my time this time last year. I really don't remember much of anything. Think about a foggy morning. The fog eventually clears and then you can see all of the familiar things. I'm kind of in that phase of the fog clearing.
But then you experience another foggy morning and you forgot just how difficult it was. You may have driven through the fog many, many mornings before. But you still forget just how scary it is to navigate...
And just how strange it feels...to be in a familiar place, on a familiar street...yet your nerves are still heightened because it feels like you are on uncharted territory. Think of those very dark and foggy mornings when you just KNOW there is a traffic light up ahead...but no matter how hard you squint, you can't make out the color.
It is very, VERY scary.
Anyways, Adam turned 18 today. Bittersweet, for sure. I mean, I have friends who have been saddened by the fact that their kid turned 18. I understand that. Then again (if you know the troubles I've had with that kid!) you would understand my sense of relief. Either way...I was determined that this day would be just like any other birthday.
And, it was...
In the noticeable manner.
I went to the store to buy him a card...but I took just a little more time REALLY reading them this year.
I went to the bank to withdraw some cash to slip into the card...but I took just a little more out than normal. (This IS one of the big birthdays, right???)
And then I went home. I needed to sign my name on the card and slip the ca$h inside. Then...it hit me. Something I've been considering all along. Something I just KNEW I had to do. I sat down and wrote Adam a letter to slip in to his card along side the cash.
A letter...about his birth, my fears, my hopes, my love for him. The pride I have in the fact that he is my son. And about how grateful I am to have him in my life.
Adam got home when no one was here. He had a little time to read the card and letter while he was alone and could really concentrate on it.
And do you know what happened when I got home? For the first time EVER...Adam took it upon himself to thank me for the card. He didn't mention the money. He didn't mention the note. But he thanked me. And I know he was grateful to hear all of those things I always WANT to say to him but I just never do.
But the last paragraph in the note? Maybe that's what he was really thanking me for.
I had to mention his Dad. I had to tell Adam that, even though he didn't say it often, Chuck was proud to have him as a son. Even when they butted heads. Even when they acted so much alike that they couldn't get along. Even when one or the other turned away from a loving gesture.
Chuck was always proud to have Adam as a son. Adam needed to hear that.
I shared with him how I think his Dad is still here, somehow, in spirit...and still feeling pride.
Especially when he sees this next journey Adam is about to embark on. Instead of going out for a relaxing birthday dinner, Adam chose to spend his time at the Marine Recruiters office. He texted Brandon and said that this physical conditioning is much more important than a meal.
He's strong.
He's determined.
He's my son.
He's my Baby Boy.
And I'm so proud of him.....
And so is his Dad.
Happy 18th Birthday, Adam. I love you.
And I feel so proud and privileged to be your Mom.
Adam was 16 when his Dad died.
Today he turned 18.
Granted, he was almost 17 when Chuck passed away.
Honestly, I don't even REMEMBER Adam's birthday last year.
I don't remember how or why or with whom or where I spent my time this time last year. I really don't remember much of anything. Think about a foggy morning. The fog eventually clears and then you can see all of the familiar things. I'm kind of in that phase of the fog clearing.
But then you experience another foggy morning and you forgot just how difficult it was. You may have driven through the fog many, many mornings before. But you still forget just how scary it is to navigate...
And just how strange it feels...to be in a familiar place, on a familiar street...yet your nerves are still heightened because it feels like you are on uncharted territory. Think of those very dark and foggy mornings when you just KNOW there is a traffic light up ahead...but no matter how hard you squint, you can't make out the color.
It is very, VERY scary.
Anyways, Adam turned 18 today. Bittersweet, for sure. I mean, I have friends who have been saddened by the fact that their kid turned 18. I understand that. Then again (if you know the troubles I've had with that kid!) you would understand my sense of relief. Either way...I was determined that this day would be just like any other birthday.
And, it was...
In the noticeable manner.
I went to the store to buy him a card...but I took just a little more time REALLY reading them this year.
I went to the bank to withdraw some cash to slip into the card...but I took just a little more out than normal. (This IS one of the big birthdays, right???)
And then I went home. I needed to sign my name on the card and slip the ca$h inside. Then...it hit me. Something I've been considering all along. Something I just KNEW I had to do. I sat down and wrote Adam a letter to slip in to his card along side the cash.
A letter...about his birth, my fears, my hopes, my love for him. The pride I have in the fact that he is my son. And about how grateful I am to have him in my life.
Adam got home when no one was here. He had a little time to read the card and letter while he was alone and could really concentrate on it.
And do you know what happened when I got home? For the first time EVER...Adam took it upon himself to thank me for the card. He didn't mention the money. He didn't mention the note. But he thanked me. And I know he was grateful to hear all of those things I always WANT to say to him but I just never do.
But the last paragraph in the note? Maybe that's what he was really thanking me for.
I had to mention his Dad. I had to tell Adam that, even though he didn't say it often, Chuck was proud to have him as a son. Even when they butted heads. Even when they acted so much alike that they couldn't get along. Even when one or the other turned away from a loving gesture.
Chuck was always proud to have Adam as a son. Adam needed to hear that.
I shared with him how I think his Dad is still here, somehow, in spirit...and still feeling pride.
Especially when he sees this next journey Adam is about to embark on. Instead of going out for a relaxing birthday dinner, Adam chose to spend his time at the Marine Recruiters office. He texted Brandon and said that this physical conditioning is much more important than a meal.
He's strong.
He's determined.
He's my son.
He's my Baby Boy.
And I'm so proud of him.....
And so is his Dad.
Happy 18th Birthday, Adam. I love you.
And I feel so proud and privileged to be your Mom.
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