I Choose Life

I've always loved Spring.

The season of gentle beginnings...reawakened hope...and life.

I need this season...I need to be surrounded by life...I need to remember I'm still here to live.

So as the days become greener and brighter...I once again find myself smiling at emerging buds...absorbing the sun...and soaking in the smells.

As nature wakes and springs back to life...I feel hope...I feel alive...I feel moments of peace.

But today as I stood outside breathing it all in...I couldn't help but think about how she was missing life...how this girl with so much life in her and so much to live for...was gone.

As I stared at the greens against the blues and whites...I gazed skyward thinking...why aren't you here?

I rarely ask why anymore...because there is never an answer.

But at times...the question with no answer...asks itself.

Lessons Learned

When I saw his little hand rubbing his brother's...I knew this five year old understood love in a way that few others do.

Luke had a dentist appointment this week...two cavities...no fun.  I took the day off work and the three of us made our way to the dentist.  As we drove...I could sense Luke becoming increasingly tense...although he was desperately trying to hide it from his little brother.

Ben read through his brother's facade...and turned on the humor as he did his Goofy Ben thing in an attempt to ease Luke's mind.  I watched it all happen in my rear view mirror...and I knew they both got it...we are a family...and we love each other in a way no one else can understand.

As we pulled into the parking lot...Luke was laughing and seemed to have forgotten what he was scared about.  This lasted up until we left Ben in the waiting area and walked backed to the little room with all the needles and drills.  As soon as he got in that over sized chair...the tears began to gently roll down his face.  He didn't make a sound...he just let the tears come and reached out for my hand.

I held it tight...trying desperately to absorb the pain from his little body as the Novocaine shots began.  It was no use...I just wasn't enough to ease his fear...or alleviate his pain.

I have no idea how Ben did it...but without warning he appeared in the room.  He had managed to get himself back there and find his brother.  Ben looked up at me...his eyes asking if it was okay to come in...but his body didn't wait for my answer.  He simply walked in and began caressing his big brother's hand while I held tight.

Luke's body seemed to relax...so much so...that the Hygienist took her eyes off him momentarily.  She looked down and saw the little boy that had snuck into the room to help his brother.  As Ben stroked the top of Luke's hand...she looked up at me with a tear in her eye.

I have no way of knowing if that would have happened a year ago.  But I do know it's not the first time I have seen it in the last fourteen months.  They have both came to each other's side in an almost maternal way since Susan's passing.  They seem to understand something about life, love, pain and death that others don't.

We have learned something about love through death...we have learned lessons that will always keep us close...keep us tied together...and keep us caring for our family of three.

Balance

Balance...it's not a new word to me, but like so many things in my life now...it has taken on a whole new context.

My life now revolves around keeping everything balanced. Sometimes I succeed, sometimes I fail, but mostly I struggle daily to keep from completely tipping over.

The balance between my boys and their individual needs has become more evident.  They are both traveling their own grief journeys...at their own pace...but need me to escort them each individually as they react in different ways and at different times to losing their mother.  As I walk with each of them...there is no map to guide us...or assure us we are headed in the right direction.

Sometimes we meander...sometimes we trudge....but occasionally we hit our stride and advance.

Accompanying them on their respective journeys may be the most daunting challenge I face as a parent. Trying to discern and make sense of their emotions reminds me of when they were newborns and I constantly found myself guessing at their needs.

With each cry and whimper...Susan and I had to get a feel for what they were trying to say and what they needed...and neither of them expressed themselves in the same way.  This past year has been an unbelievable feeling out process for me, but I believe I'm slowly starting to get a handle on how each of them deals with losing Susan.

But there is also the difficulty of trying to balance all the regular chores of being a single parent.

The boys had always benefited from having two loving parents that could split up their time and dedicate all their attention and love when needed. Those days have vanished...but the pull on me from each of the boys is amazingly strong...because they need it...and deserve it....but also because I love them both so very much.

Truthfully I'm often angry at how the boys were robbed of the life we started for them...the life we intended for them...the life they both deserved.  Sue and I seemed to be able to tackle anything together...but now I'm faced with helping them through more than I ever expected...alone...and that's not how it was supposed to be.

If the balancing act stopped at the threshold of my home, I would be laboring...but work is also a part of this balancing act.

The balance between work and home has become nothing less than agony.  Somehow...the year after my wife's death...I've been handed one of the most difficult classes of my eighteen years...and I've had a few challenging ones in the past.  Substitutes have actually told me they were praying for me...and they weren't talking about Susan's passing.

My students drain me of my patience daily...and then my boys are left to pay the price when their exhausted, frustrated father picks them up from school.  In my mind I split my day into two shifts...work and home...with a hour long commute/break in between each demanding phase.  No sooner have I pulled into the driveway then the second shift begins with the walk home from school and the instant new complications...and the solutions that I must find.

Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought that I would think of my life in this way. I truly believed this was the year they would take it easy on me...but not so much.  So sadly...teaching has turned into a job this year...and that only adds to the imbalance of my life...because teaching had always been pure joy for me...something that completed me.

But not every moment is filled with exhaustion...or sorrow..or pain.  Which creates it's very own unique balancing act.

The struggle to find a balance between my ongoing flashes of grief and my increasing moments of happiness is...overwhelming.  As each day goes by...I'm still conflicted about enjoying the positives of my life as I feel an unparalleled sorrow over the unexpected death of my wife and best friend.

I often feel like two different people...living two separate lives.  The balance here is confusing because these two people don't recognize one another...but reside within the same man.  I can break down within seconds or glide through a few hours without feeling that tug at my heart.  But when I lay my head down at night...I obsess over those two people and the contrast in their days.

Finding the balance...that's where I'm at...and like I said before...not a new idea...just more complex then I ever imagined.

2nd Time Around

Well this is my second Tour of Duty...the second year of facing milestones without Sue...the second year of celebrating traditions that we shared...the second year of hiding my pain so my boys can have the childhood joy they deserve.

Easter was the first holiday without Susan that rolled over me last year...and as I write tonight...it is knocking on my door a second time around.  Although this year is different than last...it's also very much the same this time around.

The emptiness of hiding eggs alone...the confusion of wanting to create a special memory for my boys without their Mom...the disbelief that this is what life has dealt us.

So how is this year different?

Surprisingly...I was much more on top of things last Easter...baskets ready...eggs dyed...camera set up.  But not this time.  Today I was scrambling around...finishing up everything at the very last possible minute.

Why?

I think the explanation is quite simple.  Last year at this time I was numb...in shock...unaware of what my reality really was...or was going to be.  Honestly...I just kind of soldiered through it without making sense of what was happening.  But this time around that magical cloud of protection is gone.

I wasn't ready this year because I was putting off the inevitable...celebrating as a family of only three...and accepting that we must go on without her.

So it's roughly midnight the night before Easter as I'm typing away at my table...and I'm wondering how tomorrow will play itself out...wondering how this second time around will be...but not just tomorrow...I'm wondering about each day of this second time around.

Truth

So it's been awhile...he typed in a halfhearted attempt to apologize.


Truth...
He has written every day this month.

But...
He has not had enough time or strength to tool...polish...or hone his words into truth.

Why?
Because February was so draining...so rough...so full of truth...and so damn long for such a short month.

So...
March has been a time for him to recover...and comprehend the truth he now faces each day.



Truth...
He's been too busy with life this month to truthfully address the past.

But...
He couldn't let March go by without a word posted...or a phrase turned.

Why?
Because the past will always be part of his present...his future...and his truth.

So...
March has been a time for him to adjust to the truth of a year...and each day that awaits him.



Truth...
He was more prepared for the ups and downs this month.

But...
He still had difficulty navigating his way among the highs and lows...and through the ugly truth.

Why?
Because the truth will always sting...and catch him by surprise...and tear his heart out of his chest.

So...
March has been a time for him to make peace with the fact that the truth of her absence will always remain present as he begins to live again.




With every piece of mail that bears her name...with every unopened Pampered Chef item he stumbles upon...with every picture in which her beauty shines...with every quirk his boys display that could only belong to her...he struggles to harmonize the truth of her absence into his new existence.

A Year

I'm no longer able to measure in mere months...

I have passed each first...although I have surely not conquered them all.  Every year they will rear their ugly faces again.  But perhaps as the years pass they will become less intense...little by little they may slowly fade...like a scar that loses it's harsh appearance over time.

In certain ways...I'm glad the year has finally come.  Although I recognized there would be no magical epiphany on the morning of the twenty-sixth...and I was cognizant that I wouldn't be reborn or suddenly awakened...I did hope the passing of a year would bring some relief to my mind.

I had become exhausted by my self imposed timelines and deadlines...and so weary of being a headline.  The calendar year has held so much anticipation and anxiety...I was often unable to catch my breath between dates.  Many times I was overwhelmed by expectations...and my own revelations.

But the passing of calendar days alone will not bring the change I desire in my life.

So I know my healing and growth will go on...just as it has in this last year.  I will remain awake and persistent in facing the loss of Susan without hiding...or running...or trying to keep busy. I will acknowledge my steps forward and accept the tumbles back as I have before...but no longer will I allow circled dates or my definition of time to hold me captive.

Eventually life will once again happen...and without time holding me down...it might be closer than I imagine.

I Remember

My memories are so full.

I remember a shy, but goofy girl who I met by coincidence.  She had this mischievous smirk and bangs that gave her face a curious kid like look.  She tried impressing me with a silly bar trick that involved a pile of salt and an empty salt shaker. She lied to me about loving to stay up late and enjoying a drink.  Only after I fell for her did I find out she had trouble staying up past eight.

I remember the power she had over me almost instantly...the ability to make me smile bigger than I ever had and feel love like I'd never known.

I remember those nights when we became friends long before we became lovers.  Nights spent talking on the phone, or sitting in the front room of Gilson Court.  Nights where I didn't want to hang up or wished I didn't have to leave her side.  Nights when we got to know each other in ways that few others do.

I remember waking up to her nose pressed into my back...and knowing that my life would forever be changed.

I remember the beginnings of our life together.  Picking that spot of dirt that would grow into a home filled with love.  Then sneaking into our unfinished house late at night because we couldn't wait to get our life started. Walking through those wooden beams and looking at the stars above while we talked about what those framed rooms would one day hold.  Dreaming about a future that was so beautifully about to unfold.

I remember standing at the front of a room in a mansion...nervous and excited because the day had finally come.  Watching her round the corner and seeing my bride for that very first time.  Crying in joy as she walked toward me down the aisle...so glad she would always be mine.

I remember standing in our room as she first told me about Luke.  Beaming already as she became a Mom for the very first time.

I remember that May day when we were surprised by his early arrival.  Being told by our doctor that it seemed like a great day to get parenthood started.  Sitting in the parking lot together...unable to speak because our dreams were coming true.  Being so close and connected on that May night we became a family.  Just huddling us three...as if no one else existed.

I remember sharing in each of Luke's firsts and the happiness they brought to her face. Watching her ease into the role she was born for...loving him as only she could.

I remember the joy in her eyes that August afternoon as she held her sweet Benny.  The way she loved him and cuddled him.  The special look she had just for him...telling me she finally felt complete.

I remember the way she made both her boys feel like the center of her universe.  Days spent playing and learning...laughing and teaching...being a mother like many had never seen.

I remember kitchen hugs...goodbye and hello kisses...jokes and laughter...good times and bad...and whispers so sweet...but most of all I remember how lucky I was to have her in my life.

I wish that February night never would have happened, but as I've learned you can't always control your story.  And even if I somehow knew in advance how our story would end...and the pain I would eventually have to endure...I would do it all again.  I wouldn't give up a day we had together to escape this sorrow...because a life without her would have been far worse than losing her.

Her love, her heart and her life..I will forever remember...and use as guide for the rest of mine.

Last Night

Tonight was our last night...

My Reminders

Last week I opened up Luke's backpack frantically looking for his homework.  

The nightly routine had caught up with me...the mad rush to get it all done before bedtime was in full swing...and my nerves were melting down.

Alongside my raised voice...and under his lunchbox...and between his library books...I found something unexpected...something that made my frenzied pace freeze.  

It wasn't the paper I was looking for...but it was something I had been searching for lately...a reminder.  

A reminder of what Susan gave me...the gift of two amazing boys...so full of love...and laughter...and their mother.

What happened to Susan is still incomprehensible at times...and what we live through each day is often extraordinarily difficult.

But I do have those two incredible reminders.

And on certain days...even if I'm frustrated...angry...desperate...or lonely...my boys are just enough...to bring that smile back to my face.

Days

So it's here...February.

For almost a year...this month has held me hostage.  The anticipation of it's arrival and the uncertainty of what it will bring have been circled in my mind like a date on a calendar.  So many days of significance will come and go in the next twenty-nine.

Today I can't stop thinking about those two February days when we were hit by a snowstorm.  Days off from work and free of commitment...just a family of four cuddled up in our home.  Days like those are what make life worth living...laughs and love...kisses and hugs.

In a week's time...I will be arriving at what should be our 9th anniversary.  A day that always reminded me of how lucky I was to find her love.

Within two weeks...I will face Valentine's Day.  Which should be a day for proclaiming our love...but will now always be connected with our first trip to the Emergency Room.  A day where we stayed up all night...her hooked up to sensors and machines...me scared out of my mind, but trying hard not to show it.

That day eventually bled into the fifteenth...and we were released...happy and content...assured and guaranteed of many more days to come.

But the next ten days will forever be measured in my mind.  They each hold a memory...a special way she said goodbye...to me...then Luke...and finally Ben.  It was almost like she knew...and she brought us each into her...for a final farewell.

And then it arrives...the day I said my last "I love you."  A kiss on the forehead...twice on the arm...and out the door I went.  Never again to see her smile...hear her laugh...or feel her love.

No Choice

I turned an unexpected corner yesterday.  Mostly because I had no choice...but maybe that's how this grief will eventually play itself out.  Perhaps as time moves...moments will ultimately arrive where life gives me no options...nowhere to hide.  And I will gradually have to confront the parts of my sorrow I quietly hide.

Yesterday's moment arrived in the form of a good old fashioned childhood injury.  As I watched Luke score the first basket of his park district game...my heart surged with pride. A smile spread across my face as the quarter continued and it became apparent my son was the most talented player on the floor.  But those same parental instincts switched gears quickly as Luke ran to me...holding his mouth...with blood dripping through his fingers.

I went from Proud Dad to Protective Father...without a thought.  We jumped into the car as quickly as my demeanor had changed.  I knew we were headed for the ER...and that I should be scared....not about Luke's injury...but about confronting one of my secret anxieties from the past eleven months.

Entering a hospital...specifically an Emergency Room...has been a major fear for me since last February.  Facing the starkness of an ER with it's cold white tiles and shining steel. Being guided down halls that intermittently shine fluorescent.  Seeing the pulsing of the glowing red lights.  Hearing the constant humming of unfamiliar machines.  Feeling the uncertainty and speed of life changing words.

For almost a year I have been haunted by those two February emergency room visits. Leaving once together...leaving once alone.  Every moment of each day are etched into my memory.  Every question about those days still silently remain.  However, I found the constant trepidation of walking back into an ER to be a heavy weight all it's own.  How would I react?  Would I relive the pain? Would I spiral back to those February days?

The adrenaline of being a parent is an amazing thing.  We walked in...the lights flickered...the machines hummed...and the room was stark.  But all that filled my mind...was my little boy.  The past did not impact me in that moment...I was living in the present.  I was reacting to what I could control...instead of unraveling about what had happened eleven months before.

Now I know that nothing will ever be as bad as that last February day.  And no hidden fear will bring back the level of pain I felt that day.  Maybe that's progress...perhaps in time I will conquer all my silent fears...the ones I keep hidden...the irrational feelings that are obstacles to living in the present.  I hope life gives me no other choice.

Yesterdays, Tomorrows and Todays

I've been living in yesterdays and tomorrows.


Thinking of how my life used to be...

And hoping for what my life will be...


When will I start living in todays?

Ebb and Flow

The ebb and flow of life after death…is exhausting.

The ache is elongated…sporadic…and then drawn-out again.


There is no cadence to life.

Living is always a step off beat...and doesn't fall into place for very long.


Just as the sun rises…darkness begins to cast it's shadow.

As one shade of grief is conquered…another arrives.

This appears to be a journey with no ending…no destination...no arrival.

Unfortunately…the path is not steady.


So the question becomes...

Can you move forward with the rise and fall of the road?

Falling

Every so often...I feel like I'm falling.

It's similar to the sensation you have in deep sleep...when you unexpectedly take a misstep. Perhaps you were dreaming of some fantastic or even ordinary event...and everything was going smoothly.  But suddenly you foot lunges out...and drops.  And you're left reaching for a footing that is no longer there.

This sensation has begun happening to me lately.  But I'm awake...and it's not my foot that misses a step.  It's my heart that loses ground...and begins to plummet.

I could be making dinner and all is going well.  Then as I reach to open the refrigerator...my eyes suddenly meet hers in a picture hanging on the door.  And there it is...my unexpected misstep...my heart collapses.

All at once...I am abruptly reminded of Susan's death...not that I could ever forget.  But as time has passed...I have been forced to engage in life...because I am still here...and because my boys need me.  So I have been moving...finishing what needs to be done...and unwillingly playing the hand I have been dealt.

So now instead of living with her death draped over my every thought...I'm simply shot periodically in the chest by it.  Knocked off my feet...and forced to try and stand again after some unsuspecting item or experience reminds me of her absence.

I wonder when this sensation will stop...or if it will?

It's a strange condition

It's Time

It's time to change again...

It's time to grow again...

It's time to drop the facade again...

It's time to go it alone again...


There is no time to rest your mind...

     If you're going to find yourself again...


It's time to look inside again...

It's time to get in touch again...

It's time to discover who you are again...

It's time to find strength again...


There is no time to breathe a sigh of relief...

     If you are going to evolve again...


It's time to learn from the past again...

It's time to apply your knowledge again...

It's time to love yourself again...

It's time to emerge better again...

Forever Changed

I am forever changed by Susan's death...

But also by Susan's life...


In the end it is up to me...


I must make peace with where these two paths meet...

And decide how I will let them impact my life...


My choices and reactions...

Will surely define my future...


So now it is left for me to decide...


In what manner I will live my life...

And how I choose to meet each day...

And Now?

You miss your old life...

How could you not?


But here you are...

Faced with starting anew.


Where do you go from perfection?


How do you move ahead...

When you've been left behind?


So what happens next?


Your life was blessed...

And then cursed.


How do you live again...

Without the girl who gave you life?

Whispers

I miss her whispering softly...

Dragging Up Boxes

In November when people first started yammering about the local radio station finally flipping over to Christmas music...I wasn't anxious to seek it out.  I thought the first note would open the flood gates and bring back memories of Christmas with Sue.

But there's something comforting about Christmas music to me.  I'm talking about the old stuff...the stuff I grew up with...the stuff that filled my house as a kid...the stuff I continued to play alone in my apartment during my twenties before I was lucky enough to have someone to listen with by the fire.  

When I played Johnny Mathis, Frank Sinatra, Bing Crosby, or Nat King Cole...I wasn't shot back to Christmas with Susan...because the music represented a lifetime to me...my life.

So I played my favorites...edging myself closer to making the leap of bringing up the boxes. I was hoping that opening the Christmas boxes was going to be as simple as turning the radio dial and finding those comforting songs...but I knew better.  

I knew those boxes contained our life...our Christmases...our memories of the boys enjoying the wonder of the season.  And I was scared to look at our life...scared to stand there and stare at it all alone.

So I put it off.

I put it off longer than I probably should have...longer than I wanted to.  

I wanted to have myself a Merry Little Christmas...I wanted one for my boys.

They will only have so many Christmas Seasons in their lives where they are enveloped in the wonder and magic of believing.  And I wanted them to have as much of that as possible...they had already been robbed of enough childhood.

But each day...something stopped me from dragging up those boxes.  

I've learned that every first is painful...but it's also a nail in the coffin...so to speak.

As we have tackled each first as a family...we have moved further from when we were a family of four...instead of just three.  We have moved further from her being alive...and in our lives. Opening those boxes without her was going to be...in essence...closing the chapter on sharing Christmas with her.  

Not something I wanted to do...because I couldn't imagine Christmas without her.

But here it was...approaching more quickly each day.

What could I do?

So I dug down deep...got my game face on for the boys...and dragged up some boxes.

'Tis the Season?

I thought it would start on Halloween.  I had anticipated the worst.  But as the days went by...it really didn't seem so awful.  There was just enough down time between the 31st and Thanksgiving Day to fool me into believing I was going to be fine...I was going to be able to handle the season.

But this past week crashed down on me.

I'm never surprised...just never quite prepared.

Earlier in the month the boys and I celebrated Susan's Birthday as a way of remembering how much she had brought to our lives.  But trying to celebrate my Birthday yesterday was a reminder of how much I will be missing her in my life as each year passes...a reminder of what the boys will miss...a reminder of what she will never experience.

Last week brought a slew of memories...

Not just Holidays and celebrations...but reminders of how we tackled everything...together.

My School Conferences came and went...But the ease in which we got through those two days was gone.  The days and nights were hectic...difficult...and dreadful.  The boys didn't see me at all on Monday...they rose from bed to others and were put to bed by someone else.  Not what we planned...not what we struggled the last 12 years for...

Ben agonized through the week with strep throat...a cold...an allergic reaction to medicine...and pink eye.  With every minute I stayed up caring for him...through coughing, crying and fever...I was reminded of how Sue and I worked through the hard times together...with a touch of a smile and a wink of our eyes.

Even when life was hard...we had each other to lean on...to hold...to love.

As the air gets colder...and the nights get longer...I find myself struggling.  I want to live...live for her...live for the boys. I want to do this with every ounce of my body.  But all I can do is think of what lies ahead in the next few months...Christmas...New Year's Eve...Our Anniversary...Valentine's Day...and the day that will mark a year since she last held me.