Dear Chris . . .

November 3, 2014

Dear Chris,

Well it is once again November 3. It appears this date is going to happen every year, and the weekend that surrounds it, whether or not I am prepared for it. Or for that matter, whether or not I want it to happen. Apparently it is going to hit me like a baseball bat to the gut every year . . . or maybe like a bat to the head. I’m not really sure. I just know it hurts. A hurt that is completely exhausting and mentally draining. One in which my blood pressure has soared, and I need to stay seated lest I pass out. (Seriously. My coworker drove me home Friday so that I wouldn’t pass out while driving. We took my blood pressure at the school, and for me it was quite high.) It’s a pain that has been present all weekend. There has been very little focus in my thoughts all weekend. Finally, my answer on Saturday was to crawl into bed. I slept for almost three hours. It was the middle of the day. When I woke up, it was as if it was two years ago, on that Saturday afternoon, and as the hours ticked by, the timeline of what happened went through my head.  By Saturday night, heart and mind hurting, I collapsed into bed.

I know what you are thinking. But it’s been two years. Shouldn’t it be easier by now? Okay, maybe you aren’t thinking that, but I sure have been. We have made great strides in the last two years, and I have to say I am really proud of the children and I. Last year I was prepared for the first anniversary . . . I ran away. I had an escape plan. We went to Williamsburg, and enjoyed our time together as a family as we shared funny stories about you. This anniversary, I thought we could handle at home. I thought we would be okay. For myself, boy was I wrong. I’m already thinking of an escape plan for next year!

But enough about the last three days of our extended weekend, (teacher work days here) and how miserable I have been to be around. For the sake of our children and for myself, I have to stand up, face the world, and focus on the positive. Easier said than done, but I believe you may have mentioned once, that I was a wee bit stubborn at times. Here’s hoping I put the stubbornness to good use. 

In thinking of ways to force myself to be positive this weekend, I did try shoe shopping with the girls yesterday. Yes retail therapy is completely superficial. Yes, you would think this was torture, but the girls sure didn’t! Okay, it was a bit frustrating for me that they had to try on all the fancy heels, and didn’t want to leave the store, but we were able to get out a few laughs. 

We tried watching a favorite movie, Mary Poppins. All we wanted after that was a spoonful of sugar.

Today, after going to the cemetery, we tried going out for a late lunch at Ford’s Fish Shack. The children started the meal with root beer floats. Guess they did get that spoonful of sugar. There were definitely smiles as they finished their treats.

Tonight, I recalled that I started making a list two years ago. It was a list of things that I was learning to do since 2012. Things that I probably never would have taken the time to learn had you not died. I thought I should share some of it with you.

I learned how to light the pilot light on the hot water heater. It turned out not to be as scary as I had always thought it was. Well that, and the gas company wouldn’t come out to fix it, so it was either I learn how to do it, or we had really cold showers. Seeing as it was December and freezing out, I decided I had better learn.

I learned how to change the toilet seats. I know, completely random. However, it needed to be done. So I thought, if I am changing one in the house, I should probably change all three. Even got the fancy kind, that close slowly. I never knew I would be excited to have new toilet seats!

I built an entire entertainment/bookcase unit for the basement. We had always discussed having built-in bookcases for the wall where the tv was. Well, they aren’t quite built-ins, but they do cover almost the entire wall. Once I had them built, I did ask a neighbor to help secure them to the wall. If we ever move, the bookcases/entertainment center will most likely have to stay.

I’ve learned that our oldest could turn out to be quite the cook. He has taken after you, and likes to experiment with food and flavors. They don’t always work quite the way he would like, but how else would he learn? Cooking takes time and practice.

I’ve learned that our middle one is going to be the baker in the family, as well as the mediator. She makes delicious pancakes, just like you taught her. She has learned how to keep the peace in the house as well between siblings . . . or she is just really good at getting them to do what she wants them to do. It’s a toss up really J

I’ve learned that our youngest is the one who can put into words, what I have been thinking. She may only be 8 in actual years, but her heart and soul are much wiser than that. We can all learn something from her.

I’ve also learned that I have to face my fears, and I have to continue to live. Do you remember that conversation we had years ago? You asked me at what point would I let my fears control my life, and would I ever stop living because of the fear? For awhile, I did want to stop living. I wanted to curl up into a ball, with my babies, and make the nightmare go away. It wasn’t fair that all of this was happening. But I’ve realized, in the last two years, I cannot go back in time. Not to live. I can go back in time to enjoy the memories, and share the stories with anyone who wants to listen. I can know that there will be times when the pain of missing you will be tremendous, and completely paralyzing. But, as you would have told me, to truly live I must continue to move forward.

So here we are. Another year of you being gone has passed. At this exact moment in time, I can say, we are okay. I don’t know what tomorrow or the days after will bring. But today, we are okay. We miss you and we love you, of that I am sure. But we are continuing to live, and continuing to move forward.

I know you would be proud of us.

Until next time I write. . .

Love,

Amy

How to prepare for an interview . . . or not.

So as many of you know, I have been fortunate through the years to be a full time stay at home mom, while working outside of the home part time. Over the years I have held some fascinating jobs that have provided quite a bit of insight into how the world works. But after all these years,  I am finding it time to look for a full time position outside of the home. This is proving to be another learning experience. Which of course, I would like to share with all of you . . .

This is how I prepared for an interview on Thursday. I think everyone who is in the market for a new job should take note of just how well prepared I was!

1.     Get plenty of rest. Most people who know me, know that I am a night person. I am lucky to sleep 5.5 hours on a good night. So after a day of substitute teaching, chauffeuring children to dance and baseball, and then getting a call for an interview, I thought it best if I went to bed early. I was so tired, I was sure to get plenty of sleep. With the alarm set for 6:00 am, I turned off the light at 11:07 pm. I was determined to sleep. I woke up at 4:40 am. Yep, I was ready to go.

2.     Be clear headed, avoid allergy medication. At least that was the plan. However, I woke up with a raging sinus headache. I took some Advil, thinking that would help with the headache part, but keep me lucid. I probably should have taken the allergy medication.

3.     Know what you are going to wear. I had this one nailed! I have the perfect interview outfit, which includes black pants. This means I didn’t need to shave when I showered. Saves plenty of time! I made sure I wore yoga pants and a t-shirt while making a healthy breakfast for my children, to avoid any messes. (It is only the third week of school, so this is still happening. By December, I will toss a box of cereal to them and tell them to enjoy). After going to the bus stop with the youngest, it was time to come home and finish getting ready. Hair, check. Make-up, check. Brush teeth again, check. Put on the perfect pair of pants, check. Oh, wait. My toe just caught on the hem, and tore out the hem to my pants. Where are the back up pair of pants?! Ugh. They are in the wash. No time to sew the hem. I didn’t shave my legs this morning so I can’t go with the skirt. Oh, wait, I found a safety pin! Perfect. Just pin the hem back up, and we are good to go.

4.     Know where you are going for the interview/Leave early. I so have this one nailed. I googled, and printed the directions for the interview. Even put the address in my phone so I would know how to get there, while avoiding the toll road. The allotted time of travel, 20 minutes. The interview was at 9:00, so I left at 8:10. I was definitely going to be early!

5.     Have a back up plan for directions. Traveling along at an excellent rate of speed, I was feeling confident about my journey to the interview. I was at a red light and confirming the directions. I went straight, just as the directions indicated. About 50 yards through the light, I came to the realization as to why I was the only one who went straight when the light turned green. There was a large orange and white barricade, with signage reading “ROAD CLOSED!” Apparently it had been closed a week or two ago, and will be closed for possibly a year or more by the looks of it. Time to find an alternate plan. This is when I was thankful to the powers that be, for a phone that has GPS, and talks to me.

6.     Leave a lasting impression. The interview was taking place at a high school at 9:00 am. At all of the other schools in the county I have visited, buses and cars enter school grounds through a shared entrance(s). However, I now know that following the school bus to this school was not the best option. Apparently there is an entrance for buses, and an entrance for cars. The good news . . . I remembered my rules of the road that my driving teacher my sophomore year of high school taught me. When I see a school bus with its stop sign out, and lights flashing, I need to stop. So there I was, behind four school buses, waiting for the students to finish getting off the bus. I’m sure the gentleman who worked for the school, who approached the car to talk to me is a very nice gentleman. However, as he opened his mouth to speak, and before any sound could be heard from him, I began to apologize! I was incredibly sorry for making a wrong turn, and that I had never been there before. He walked away with a smile. I think. Definitely left a lasting impression!

7.     Be like a Boy Scout, and be prepared for anything. Even vomit. Yes, I finally made it into the correct parking lot, and parked the car. As I stepped out of the car, I narrowly missed stepping in vomit. All the signs were looking favorable for this interview . . .

8.     Arrive early, and be flexible in the schedule. The interview was scheduled for 9:00, and I walked into the office at 8:50. It was then I found out, the folks doing the interview, had a meeting at 9:15. The interview started early, and was finished by 9:15.

9.     Keep a sense of humor. In my mind, I walked away from the interview laughing, with my headache intact. Not sure what the interviewers thought. Sure, I would love to get the job, but I know I wasn’t completely myself Thursday. So I will chalk this up as another new experience . . . and a story that makes me smile.

So tell me . . . how do you prepare for an interview?!

Putting Out Fires

This is for those of you who have not already heard the story in person.

It’s a true story.

It all began with the dog.

Okay, really, it might have started earlier than that . . . like when I decided it was time to redo the basement, and I purchased a new bookcase/entertainment center from Ikea, and so I had to assemble it myself, which meant the basement had to be cleaned first, so there was room to build it, which meant things had to be boxed up, and then I started building it, and it took me almost a week to assemble, because my helpers are 8, 11, and 13, and they argued as to who is going to help me next, and I might have switched the top and bottom pieces, and I might have been frustrated with my children, and I may have been bemoaning the fact that I am not Mary Poppins, cause if I was I could have snapped my fingers and everything would be neat and tidy.

But I digress. I will begin the story with the dog.

I love my dog. Her name is Athena, and she has been an amazing companion for 14 years. But, she is 14 years old, and every once in awhile she has an accident. On a particular Thursday morning this happened. I really blame myself for not getting myself out of bed earlier (it is summer time after all) to let her out. Anyway, she had an accident on the kitchen floor. No big deal. I cleaned up the mess. I even used Clorox wipes for good measure on the soiled area. Well, then it happened again later that afternoon. Again, no big deal, I cleaned up the mess, and we went about day two of building the bookcase.

Along came Friday morning. Still summertime, and I am still trying to sleep in. I was awake by 7:00, as usual, but I didn’t jump out of bed. That is, until I heard Athena pacing downstairs. I didn’t quite make it downstairs in time to get her outside before she had an accident. Ugh. Had to clean up another mess. It was at this point that I decided the entire kitchen floor was due for a scrubbing. The spot cleaning just wasn’t going to cut it. I needed a fully clean kitchen floor.

It was time to utilize my children’s desire to help! I wish I could recall what I fed them that particular week, as they kept asking me how they could help. Now, I know I am biased and think I have great children, but the offer to help with everything doesn’t happen every day. I have to make sure I channel the energy when it appears! So, I put the girls to work on scrubbing the kitchen floor.

Now I know that scrubbing the floor seems like a simple task. Get a mop, some soapy water, and everyone is good to go. However, I do have one child who might be a slight perfectionist. So she decided that the kitchen floor needed to be completely cleared prior to cleaning. This meant the garbage can, the broom, the dust mop, the dust pan, the box of garbage bags, and the two fire extinguishers in the back corner of the kitchen needed to be moved to another room. It makes sense to move it from one corner in the kitchen, to one corner in the dining room. Also included in the move, were the dog’s dishes, and the kitchen rugs. The corner chosen in the dining room, happens to be right next to the entrance to the kitchen. So if a person needed to walk from one room to the other, it became a bit of an obstacle course to get through. Really, I wasn’t going to complain about that since the girls had graciously agreed to clean the kitchen floor. Now their willingness might have also stemmed from the fact, that once you have a kitchen floor covered in warm soapy water, you can skate across it much easier. So cleaning the floor can be fun. All I knew, the kitchen floor was going to be clean, I wasn’t going to have to do it, and I could go back to building the bookcases.

So day three of building the bookcase/entertainment center commences, while the girls are cleaning the kitchen. At some point in the afternoon, I head back upstairs thinking it would be a good time to have lunch. Plus I needed a break from the directions that Ikea provides. The kitchen floor has now been clean for quite some time. However, the girls had not put back all of the items they had taken out of the kitchen. So I walked around and through the obstacle course into the kitchen. It was on the way back out of the kitchen, and avoiding the dog dishes, I missed seeing the box of garbage bags. Now kicking a box of garbage bags really isn’t that big of a deal, but kicking a box of garbage bags that have a fire extinguisher precariously balancing on top of it is. In fact, when the fire extinguisher comes down on your foot, it may come to the attention of your children, that you have an entirely different vocabulary than they are used to hearing.

It was my son’s fortune (or not so much) that he was the first person I saw after having this happen. There may or may not have been steam coming out of my ears when I looked at him, and instructed him to move the blasted fire extinguisher, and everything else that belonged in the kitchen back to the kitchen. Being the fabulous child that he is, he jumped up and ran to do what I told him to do. As I was still muttering curse words under my breath, I turned around to make sure he had followed directions. Instead, I see him holding the handle of the fire extinguisher, but his knees were bent, and he was looking down on the ground. He wasn’t really moving. Now, in my anger at the fire extinguisher, and myself for not seeing it, I could not fathom why he was standing still and looking at the ground. I may have raised my voice, to tell him to just get moving, and get the thing out of my sight.

And that was the last thing I should have done.

Please note here . . . if a child is holding a fire extinguisher by the handle, do not raise your voice at them.

I repeat, do not raise your voice.

Because, what happens when a person raises their voice at another person? That person flinches. Their hands may clinch. And if that person happens to be holding a fire extinguisher by the handle . . .

Yes. Yes, it really did happen. The fire extinguisher really did go off. Thankfully, it did not go on my child. Rather, it was pointed at the corner. Yes, the corner of the dining room. The corner where the garbage can, the broom, the dust mop, the dust pan, the box of garbage bags, and now only one fire extinguisher were sitting. Really, everything that I could possibly want to use to clean up the mess was sitting in that corner.

I won’t bore you with the details of the clean up from the mess. It involved a couple of phone calls to Tyco Fire Protection Products. They are the ones who manufactured the monoammonium phosphate inside the fire extinguisher, and they are a lovely group of people. It also involved a vacuum, a new mop, old cleaning rags, and a lot of baking soda with warm water.

Oh, and in case you were wondering, like I was, why my child was standing still and looking at the ground . . . he had noticed the pin in the fire extinguisher was missing, and he was looking for it. I had not. It was located during the clean up process.

It was then time to go back to building the bookcases . . . wonder why it took me so long to complete that?

So that is just one true story from my summer vacation. How was your summer?

E.T. Phone Home?

Yesterday, something weird happened in my life. It seems to happen more often than I would like, and I’m realizing that I use the word “weird” more often now than I did in the past. But this one . . . well this time, this oddity started me in thinking. My thoughts went from the macabre humor to serious in a matter of minutes. But before I tell you about what happened, I need you to know three things that I believe. I know not everyone will agree, but that is okay by me.

I believe in God.

I believe in Heaven, and that we are all headed there at some point. I’m not the one to judge.

I know that when we die, we will see our loved ones again.

So now that you know that about me, I have to tell you what happened. Yesterday was a dreary, rainy day. It didn’t feel much like the end of May with temperatures in the 50’s and a continuous drizzle of rain. It was the perfect day to get out of the house in jeans and t-shirt, and to meet friends for lunch. The plan was to meet at 11:00, have lunch and then head on out to finish what ever was on our respective to-do lists for the day. It is here that I need to add that I am blessed with some amazing friends from the many facets of life I have had, and I feel I don’t get to spend as much time with all of them that I would like. This means that sometimes, when we do meet, our lunches might run a wee bit longer that we planned. Not surprisingly, yesterday was one of those days. We did indeed meet at 11:00, and left the restaurant after 2:00. After all, I did need to get home in time for the school bus!

Okay, I know, nothing “weird” has happened yet, right? Well here is where my day jumped track . . . I made it home in time for the bus. The children and I walked in the house discussing whether or not it was a good day to have ice cream for a snack. (The verdict here, was no. It was too cold outside). As they moved on to the kitchen I noticed that the home phone was showing we had missed a call. So naturally I checked to see who had called, and whether or not they had left a message. I’m pretty sure you can’t guess who called. Or maybe you can now that I listed what I believe at the top. The name on the caller ID yesterday . . . Chris D. Yep. My husband’s name was right there at the top of the caller ID listed as a missed call. I believe my heart may have skipped a beat when I saw that. I clicked the button on it to show me the number from where he called. It showed our home number. Yes, you did read that correctly. Apparently Chris called from our home phone. My heart skipped a second beat. The time stamp on the call was May 29, at 1:50 pm. Unfortunately there was no message.

My immediate reaction was to continue to hold the phone, walk to the kitchen to check on the girls, and then to call my Mom. Yes, I called my Mom, because this is why we have Moms, to answer some questions that you just can’t fathom at the time. Mom’s know all the answers, right?! (I love you Mom!) As I talked to Mom, and my heart rate slowed down a bit, I did walk throughout the house to check every room and closet. Everything looked like the exact same mess my children had left in the morning. I checked the re-dial feature on all the phones in the house, and not one of them showed as having dialed itself, ever. So now what to think? My youngest suggested that Daddy was calling to talk about his bowling adventure from the night before. I thought that was a fairly reasonable explanation. (See Bowling at Bedtime to clarify).

I will tell you now, there is most likely a perfect explanation as to why my home phone called itself in the middle of the afternoon while I was having lunch with friends and I wasn’t even in the house. I’m sure there is some technical explanation that involves spoofing and scamming and technical explanations that I will tune out as soon as someone tries to explain it to me, because it will make my brain hurt.

But, the whole situation got me thinking: What if? What if there wasn’t a technical explanation? What if there really was a phone call from Chris? What if we all received a call from a loved one who had passed away? What would you say? What would you want to hear? What if you had just one more time to talk? My thoughts on the question have been all over the place in the last 24 hours. Here is just the short list of what I would say/ask . . .

5. Please tell me there is an offshore account somewhere and how to access it. Or can we have the winning lottery numbers? It would be great to continue to be able to volunteer and not have to worry about working. Volunteering is so much more fun.

4. Tell the guardian angels that have been looking out for all of us, thank you. We’ve had a bumpy ride, and I can’t promise it will get any easier with all of us getting older, but we’re doing our best here.

3. Can you look into that big book of “Why” there in Heaven to give me a really good explanation as to why life took this turn? I haven’t been able to come up with any reasonable answers.

2. The children are going to be okay, right? They are pretty amazing, aren’t they?

1. I love you.

Bowling at Bedtime

I love my children. I love snuggling with them. I love reading with them. I love talking with them . . . during daylight hours. Once we get to the time when they should be going to bed, I am done. I admit that putting to children to bed is my least favorite part of the day. So much so, that it was always Chris’ job to get them ready for bed. I figured, I had spent all day with them, and he had spent all day with adults, he should be the lucky one to get them cleaned up and ready for bed. He had an abundant amount of patience for all the requests for one more story, one more snuggle, one more whatever it was they wanted. When I had to be in charge of it, tears would ensue. Usually I was the one who ended up crying and feeling awful as a mom, because really, all I wanted was for them to be quiet and go to sleep.

The good news for me now, is that all of the children are old enough to take their showers, brush their teeth and read their own books. This has cut down a little on the stress. Until there are the nights I go upstairs . . . when they have all been kissed, hugged, and told “lights out,” and when I arrive upstairs the lights are all on, and they are WIDE awake, and it is way past their bedtime. Then the tired, cranky mom rears her ugly head, and yells at them “Why are all the lights on?” “Why are you still awake?” “Why am I tripping over wet towels and dirty clothes?” and other various rhetorical questions. Because really, if they answered me, I would just be more annoyed than I already am.

I have to admit, and I’m not proud of it, tonight was one of those nights. We have had a full week so far of a Girl Scout field trip, a school field trip, dance and baseball. It’s only Wednesday, which means we still have a school violin concert, a school kickball tournament, and a funeral to attend this week. It is one of those weeks where everything is being juggled to get everyone where they need to be, at a certain time. I know everything will work out the way it is supposed to, but it also means that the children need to go to bed and get some sleep mid week. They do still have school to get up for every morning!

So tonight, we had dance for one child and a baseball game for another. (My little one is a trooper who gets shuffled from place to place at times, and does it without complaint!) When the girls and I were finally able to settle in for the baseball game tonight we were treated to an exciting game. It was a close game to the very end, when our team ended with a victory of 15-14. My son was a filthy, muddy, huge grin wearing, talkative teen on the car ride home. Definitely one of the best games of the season, and the excitement and joy from him were palpable. Everyone was in a great mood for the car ride home.

But then . . . we arrived home. It was after 9:00 and it was time for everyone to hit the showers and get ready for bed. It was already well past bedtime for at least two of them. So, there are three of them, and only two showers. Arguments started over who had to shower first, who was going to use which bathroom, don’t use my towel, pick up your dirty clothes, etc. At this point, I don’t care which bathroom you are going to use, JUST. GET. IN. THE. SHOWER. And GO. TO. BED! I admit, my patience was being stretched thin. Finally, everyone was showered. Teeth were all brushed. One still had a bit of homework to do, and was diligently working on it.

It was now 10:00 pm. There was a thunderstorm that had thankfully waited until after the baseball game to hit, that was raging outside. Lightening lit up the skies and their rooms. I headed upstairs for the final kiss good night, and to make sure that they had indeed turned off the lights and gone to bed. When what to my not-very-surprised-eyes should I see? All the lights were on. Everyone was awake. (I thought only one was still awake and working on homework). My patience that had been stretched thin, now snapped. “Seriously people? Why are all the lights still on? Why are you still awake? It is after 10:00 at night and You. Need. Sleep!!!”

I walked into the room of my little one, about to comment about the wet towel on the floor (a pet peeve of mine). When I looked at her, she was holding a stuffed polar bear. It was one I had as a child. She was holding tight to it, and her eyes showed concern. It literally brought me to my knees. I kneeled by the bed. My little one can get worried during thunderstorms. (She’s not as bad as me . . . I hate thunderstorms!) It was reflected in her eyes, that the one happening at the moment was definitely a concern. There was a lightening strike followed closely by the boom of thunder. So I asked her the first question that popped into my mind . . . “Do you think that is Daddy up there bowling? With all the racket he is making, it sounds like he got a strike.” The smile was slow to come, but it did. We had a lively discussion about how God, Daddy and Mr. Campbell are probably up in Heaven together bowling, and GiGi is keeping score for them. But maybe GiGi got tired of all the noise, so now she is probably being creative and sewing. Or maybe she is painting. She did love being creative. Suddenly the storm didn’t seem so bad. The lights could now be turned off. After hugs and kisses, I picked up the wet towel and went to hang it up after I left the room.

I went to the next room. I didn’t even comment on the wet towel in my teen’s room. Instead, I gave him a kiss good night, and listened yet again to how amazing the game had been tonight. The smile and excitement in his voice made it all worth it. My frustration with the fact that my children were not in bed yet at 10:00 at night had ebbed. One more kiss good night, and I picked up the wet towel on my way out of the room to go hang it in the bathroom.

Back downstairs, I made my way over to the one diligently working on homework. There had been quite a bit of frustration over the assignments, and I knew that this one was way beyond tired. It was time to call it a night, and let her know that she could work on it in the morning. Sometimes we all reach a point, where we are being less productive because we are so tired. It wasn’t easy to convince her to stop working. I *might* be raising a slight perfectionist like myself. With a bit of talk, and a funny story from college (you know, the stories her brother and sister have not yet heard) I was able to convince her to go to bed.

So they are all finally in bed. They are all finally asleep. The storm has passed. Both the actual thunderstorm outside, and my internal storm of frustration I had with my children. Talking with my youngest seemed to flip a switch in my mind this evening. I was able to appreciate the moment that I had with each of my children. My mental state is much calmer. So here I am. Feeling compelled to write. It is as I am bringing this to a close that a quote I have read many times today practically smacks me in the head . . .

“People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” – Maya Angelou

It is so true. I won’t forget how my children made me feel tonight . . . I was a protector, a friend, and a confidant. Overall, it’s like I’m an okay mom! I can only hope that they felt the love I have for each of them.

Birthdays & Band-Aids

Today I accidentally gave myself a paper cut. Thankfully it’s not huge, but it did require a band-aid (bleeding on the keyboard today was not an option). Which started me in thinking about what amazing little things band-aids are. A bit of cotton and adhesive is really what they are. But it’s what they do that is wonderful. Band-Aids protect a wound. They cover the small wounds such as a paper cut, or the big nasty scrapes kids get on their knees. They keep the wound clean, keep the cut together, and help prevent the wound from getting bigger. Once they have done their job, we take them off and toss them. They have done their job after all. But sometimes, the removing of the band-aid can be painful, even when we know it is past time for it to come off.

The past 18 months of my life have been filled with band-aids. In a manner of speaking, I have covered myself in them. After all, life as we knew it had been torn into pieces, and I needed to find a way to keep it all together. The stakes were much too high not too hold everything together. Some of these band-aids were mental, and others physical. There was one large one that many who came to our home saw, but I’m not sure it was always recognized as a band-aid.

For every birthday in our home, it is tradition to decorate the family room the night before the birthday. Streamers, balloons, and birthday signs . . . you name it, and we had probably used it to decorate at some point! As a child I always loved waking up the morning of my birthday and walking down the hallway, to see all the decorations that were there. Just for me. I remember the first time I did this for Chris on his birthday. He was definitely surprised. The decorating was even more fun when we had children. At that point, it wasn’t just me. The two of us would work together to make sure everything looked special for the birthday child. In October 2012, we had such an evening. I was in charge of the streamers. Chris was in charge of hanging a birthday sign over the entrance that separates the family room from the dining room. The decorations lead to a festive time the next day.

Here is where I have to admit, that for as efficient as we were at getting the decorations in place, we didn’t always take them down right away. The streamers and balloons would basically come down on their own, and would be cleaned up when they did. But birthday signs tend to linger. After all, it’s fun to pretend it’s your birthday a bit longer! Especially when you are a child.

It was 10 days after N’s birthday when Chris passed. The streamers had long since been put away. But the Happy Birthday sign was still hanging where Chris had put it. The week of planning the funeral was a solemn one, and having a Happy Birthday sign was rather mocking. A kind hearted family member, being helpful, tried to take down the sign. I about ripped his head off in yelling at him to leave it alone. Something had come over me, that the sign HAD to stay where it was. I could not explain it. It was just a feeling. Looking at the children, they looked horrified by the idea of the sign being taken down, and relieved when the letter H was put back in place. The sign remained.

As a matter of fact, the sign remained in the same place for exactly 18 months. During this time we had people in and out of our home. Family visited from out of town. Friends came over for wine. Children came over for play dates. Babysitters came over to take care of the children. For 18 months people would ask, “Who is having a birthday?” Each time we always (lamely) explained who had a birthday next. Never mind that there were 6 weeks or even 6 months between birthdays in the home. It was easier to convince someone that I was lazy and didn’t want to take down the sign between birthdays, than to explain, that it was a connection the children and I had with Chris. It was like he had decorated for everyone’s birthdays for the year. It didn’t seem possible that we could ever take down the sign.

But after 18 months, the tape that was holding the sign began to let go. Like the edge of a band-aid that has been worn too long, the H had come loose. It began in the morning. Each time one of us would notice the H hanging down, we put it back in place. After doing this all day, it was unanimously agreed that it was time for the sign to come down. I took a picture of the children under the sign, the H not quite in its original place. It’s a goofy picture, as the children are making silly faces. But I knew then, that this wound had closed. As with any wound, there is always going to be a scar. But in time, scars do fade.

Yes. It was definitely the right time for this band-aid to be taken off.

What the World Needs Now

The past week or so, a blog that I like to follow, Momastery (http://momastery.com), has been collecting other blog posts  . . . with people writing about their messy, brutiful, life. I actually submitted the post I wrote for Christmas to be shared with others. I had not written something just for it. But it did get me thinking about what I would write about my own life . . . and I realized at that time I had nothing to write.

Then yesterday, I opened my emails. LinkedIn suggested that I connect with Chris, and that keeping in touch with contacts can be valuable in my job search. This has happened at least once before. The first time, I cried about it. I mean, not once while he was alive, did it suggest that I connect with Chris. Why would it do it now? Yesterday, I took the opposite approach . . . I laughed. I had all sorts of crazy thoughts dancing around in my head. Even shared on facebook about it . . . “I figure I only need to be really concerned if LinkedIn tells me he has been looking at my profile." As one friend suggested, maybe it was Chris’s way of letting me know he was here. Sort of a way for him to say “hi.”

Total side bar here . . . I can admit that I have questioned my faith for years. Is there a God? Is there a Heaven? What happens when we die? Are there Angels? Is there a parallel spirit world where our loved ones are looking out for us here on earth? Is this all there is? Really, all the same questions I think humans have asked for millennium, and given time, each person comes to their own conclusion. It is, after all, extremely personal. I can tell you now, I do not have all the answers. (No one really does). What I can write, is that in the last 17 months, my faith has surprisingly grown stronger. I do believe there is a Heaven, and that I will see Chris and other loved ones when we all get there. I also believe that our loved ones do keep an eye on us, and from time to time, let us know that they love us.

Yesterday was just one of those days. It began with the email, and moved on throughout the day. Little things, like finding a card that he had given me, that was tucked away in a random corner. Realizing that there are certain things of his that I have yet to move. You know how you can be blind to something that is right there in front of you, because it has just always been there? It topped itself at the end of the day, with a song.

For those that know me, I pretty much have music on in my house all day, every day. We don’t have a tv on the main floor, so to keep myself company while working, cleaning, sleeping, etc, I put music on the stereo. Most times, I have the radio on. When the girls come home they usually put on an iPod and create playlists that they want to listen to. When the oldest gets home, he likes to listen to classical music, or NPR.

When the girls came home from school yesterday, they decided they didn’t want to listen to the radio. So MK put on the iPod, and decided we needed to listen to Sweet Caroline. Now this song has an incredible amount of memories associated with it for me. Not all of which I have ever shared with my children. I recall times with my family and friends out boating in the summer when I hear this song. I can feel the wind in my hair as we raced along the water. I can recall nights in college when friends would sing along with the song . . . whether people thought it was a great song, or a corny song, there is something about it that you just sing along. As an adult, I now have fond thoughts of giggling, silly dancing, and singing this song with my children. So we began our afternoon with this song. I soon realized, that MK had set up the iPod to play the songs in alphabetical order beginning with Sweet Caroline. So we had quite the mixture of songs as we went about the rest of the afternoon.

Fast forward to the night. I had driven to dinner, dance, baseball, and back again. Since we were rushing to get everywhere on time, no one took the time to turn off the music. So it just continued to play for the rest of the evening, in alphabetical order by song, and it was still playing at 10:00 last night when the children were going to bed after the baseball game. Not really paying attention to it, other than to note that it was still playing, I sat down at the computer to get some work done.

Part of my work last night included trying to narrow down thousands of pictures of my 5^th grader to just three pictures to be used by the school for a special event. As I went from infant to now, there were too many thoughts and memories jumbled in my mind. There is a distinct break in the pictures . . . the pictures taken while Chris was alive, and pictures taken after his death. Even though he isn’t in all the pictures from when he was alive, his presence is felt in the pictures, and is poignantly missing from those after November. I confidently (ha!) narrowed my options to 10 pictures, and decided I would narrow it down further in the morning. It was after all close to midnight, and I really should try to get to sleep.

It was while I was beginning to stand after shutting down the computer, that the song playing caught my ear. What the World Needs Now is Love. Have you ever had a moment when a memory paralyzes you? I was suddenly back in time, taking ballroom dancing lessons with Chris in California. We wanted to have a waltz be our first dance at our wedding reception, so we took lessons to make sure we didn’t look completely foolish. We didn’t have the song that we wanted with us, so the dance instructor had us practice to this song. I lost count of how many times we listened to this song. And even though we used a different song for our first dance, this song has a wealth of meaning. I felt as if I froze for a lifetime, when in reality it was probably only a heartbeat. I was going to turn off the music, because it was just really too much for one day. But as I moved to the stereo to turn it off, I thought to myself, no, that is not what we do when this song comes on. When this song plays, it is time to waltz! And so I did. And I cried. Then I laughed. Because I’m pretty sure I was not keeping time to the music, but Chris always did. And so as I cried, and laughed, and sang along to the music to myself, I danced as another song suggests, as if no one is watching. Yet, I knew, as the signs had been there all day, I wasn’t really alone.

Today's Public Service Announcement

In case you didn’t know this already, there really is a facebook page for everything. This past February 14, I came across the Donate Life America page. There was a picture notifying everyone that Valentine’s Day was also National Donor Day, and it encouraged everyone to register to be a donor. I shared the image on my facebook page, hoping to encourage others to register to be a donor, but I had not quite shared my story. It’s a story with several parts . . .

Part 1.

When I was 16, and qualified for my first driver’s license, I registered as a donor. I would like to say that it was an easy decision to make, but really it wasn’t. I had given it quite a bit of thought. On one hand, I thought the idea was completely creepy. Moving one person’s organs to another person sounded a bit like the premise of Frankenstein. I wasn’t really sure I wanted any part of that. On the other hand, I thought it sounded pretty cool. I mean you could take something from one person, give it to another, and it could SAVE them. That, my friends, is amazing. So with the aplomb only a teenager can have, who just knows she is invincible, I registered as a donor. As I’ve gotten older, and renewed my license in different states, the little heart on the card, or the words organ donor, have always appeared. I haven’t really given it much thought over time.

Part 2.

Now, fast forward, quite a few years. I receive a phone call from my parents. This is not an uncommon occurrence, as we enjoy talking with one another. However, this time there was a change in the tone of the call. Dad had been to the eye doctor and had an eye disease. He had what is called Fuchs’ Dystrophy. It is a progressive corneal disease, which in short, leads to a loss of vision. After multiple trips to specialists at the Mayo’s Clinic, it was concluded that Dad could be helped with surgery. The doctor would have to do a partial cornea transplant to help save his vision. Over time, Dad has had two eye surgeries, each time receiving a cornea from a donor. I’m ashamed to admit, that I blocked from my mind where the corneas were coming from. I was just incredibly happy that my Dad would be able to see. In fact, he has better vision now, than he did before the surgery.  Among so many other wonderful things, it means he will continue to see his grandchildren grow up.

Part 3.

Fast forward, just a couple of years to November 4, 2012. I received another phone call. It was about 4:00 in the morning, when the phone rang. My friend and I were sitting in the living room, talking about the most random of subjects, to avoid the most obvious problem I was facing that night. When the phone rang, we gave each other a questioning look before I answered the phone. The call was from a man I will never meet in person. As hard as I might try to think, I cannot even tell you the man’s name. He was calling me, because Chris was a registered organ and tissue donor. He wanted to know if I would be willing to honor that registration. With my heart in my throat, and tears in my eyes, I told him yes. It was then that he told me, that because there was not yet a cause of death, the donation would only be the corneas and tissue. There really is no “only” about it. The impact of his words was immediate. Chris’s corneas would give someone else the gift of sight. Someone else would be able to see their children and grandchildren grow up. Seeing as our family had been the recipient of such a gift, I could not imagine a more precious gift to give.

Part 4.

I received a letter several weeks later from the Washington Area Transplant Community. They confirmed that Chris’s corneas actually helped two people. Which in my mind, really translates to two families. I will never meet these people. I will never know if it was men, women, or children who received his gifts. I just know that I pray for those people, and their families, that their eyes stay strong. I can only hope that they can watch their children and grandchildren grow to adulthood and begin their own families. I also now think much more about, and pray for the people that made the donation to help my Dad see. Being an organ and tissue donor really is the greatest gift.

Part 5.

This part is my public service announcement. March is National Eye Donor month. I encourage everyone to take a moment to check your driver’s license. Are you a registered donor? Does your family know your wishes? If you are not yet a registered donor, you don’t have to go back to the DMV to update your license. There is an online registration form that you can complete: http://donatelife.net/register-now/ After you complete the registration, be sure to share with your family, that this is indeed what you wish. Organ donation truly is the most important gift a person can share.

Chicken

I have a confession to make. Deep down inside, I’m a complete chicken. (Pretty sure this is not a compliment to chickens). But truthfully, I must admit, I’m a big chicken. The list of things that I am afraid to do is rather staggering when I really stop to think about it. I’m afraid of heights, small spaces, and confrontations. I’m afraid of messing up my children, failing at work, and just all around letting people down. (I should add . . . this is just the short list!)

So why am I pondering this today? Maybe, because today is just a day, like any other day this winter.  Laundry needs to be washed and put away, the house needs to be vacuumed, and my children’s rooms are in a constant state of chaos. The sun is trying to shine, the snow is trying to melt, and I am trying to face something head on that I really don’t want to do today. So it’s not really just another day. The odd part about it is, that what I need to face today is something that I have always enjoyed in the past. I have to face “Soup Night” with my neighbors.

What is Soup Night, you ask. Well, let me tell you. It is a night when all the neighbors get together for an evening of food and fun. I can’t even tell you when it all began, but I’m thinking it’s been around for 8-10 years now. (Neighbors reading this, please let me know if you remember). As I recall, it started around Halloween. We had one neighbor that would have a Halloween party before trick-or-treating. The children would all come in costume, eat yummy treats, and then go collect candy. Most of the parents would have a beer or some wine, and then follow the children around the neighborhood. Definitely a win-win for everyone involved. At some point, we all realized that we were all making large amounts of comfort food for our families, and what everyone was making, sounded delicious to all of the neighbors. Someone then had the brilliant idea that there should be a party for the adults as well as the children for Halloween. So Soup Night was created . . . a treat party for the children to begin the night, trick-or-treating and then top the night off with homemade food. At some point a fire-pit was added to the mix, and so we would have all the food in one house, and the fire-pit outside. People wandered inside and out enjoying the food, but most especially the company. I would usually make chili. One neighbor makes the most amazing homemade rolls I believe any of us have ever had. Another neighbor has a fabulous recipe for gumbo. You get the idea . . . lots of delicious food, spending time with good friends and neighbors, and everyone gets to try new foods!

As time moved on, and Halloween did not fall on a weekend, it was agreed that it was hard to have a late night in the middle of the week. So Soup Night became a moveable night. If Halloween landed in the middle of the week, Soup Night would usually fall on a Saturday night. The children were also getting older, and many were involved with sports on Saturday mornings. It has been a challenge to have a late night on a Friday anymore!

These have all been good times. Certain foods have been requested year after year (I did mention the rolls, right?) Funny stories and inside jokes have emerged from our late nights together. Large amounts of food, too many candy corns, and probably too many beers have been shared amongst everyone. Some neighbors have moved, but friendships have remained. We have had new neighbors move in, who we are now lucky to call friends. So, why would I want to avoid heading to Soup Night tonight?

Because the last Soup Night this neighborhood had was November 3, 2012. Emails had been going between everyone all week. Recipes were discussed as we sat outside Halloween night handing out candy. Chris had purchased wood and stored it in the trunk of his car for the fire-pit. The children were excited to have s’mores and to stay up way past their bedtime. Chris did a last minute trip to the grocery store, to make sure I had all the fresh ingredients for the chili I made every year. I even took a nap, as I knew I would be exhausted by the time Soup Night was to begin. When I woke, Chris was at soccer practice with MK, and the other two were playing in the basement. I set to work on the chili, and had just put it in the oven when the phone rang.

I had known for quite some time that I lived in a pretty special neighborhood. There had been emergencies in the past that had brought everyone together. But this was unexpected and unwelcome. When I hung up the phone, I ran next door to my neighbor to let her know that I had to leave, and to please take my children and take care of them. And, oh by the way, the chili would be ready in two hours. Would she please take it out of the oven, and bring it over to soup night for me? For the rest of the evening, and into the night my neighbors took care of my children. They watched over what they ate to make sure it was free of allergens. They let them play and I think watch movies with all of the other children there. The adults knew the truth, and they let my children have one more evening of the life they had always known. They kept them safe and feeling loved.

So that brings us to today, February 16, 2014. We aren’t anywhere near Halloween time right now, or November 3. It was agreed upon this past Fall, that we all still wanted to do a Soup Night, but I knew I just couldn’t do it in the Fall. It would have just been too much. All day I have had the feeling that I wouldn’t be able to do it today either. Too many memories, too many emotions just too close to the surface, and it feels like they may come forth at any moment. All that being said, I know that I will be doing it. The children are already dressed. The brownies have been made, and the baked ziti will be in the oven shortly. All I need to do now is get dressed in something other than pjs, gather everyone and everything together , and cross the street to my friends’ home. After all, the chicken does it all the time. 

Certainly, I can too.