I'm Not Sure I Can Do This ....

.... in fact, 30 minutes into this program .... I'm sure that I can't.

This was supposed to be a humorous post about some things I did this week .... things that I would never have attempted to do 4 years ago.  But I now seem to constantly be up for a challenge .... come hell or high water.
More on that at another time.

Son #3 informed me that he planned to watch a show on National Geographic tonight at 9:00, and he intended to record it.
It's an interview with Pres. George W. Bush .... about September 11, 2001.

And I know, thirty minutes into it,  that I am not going to be able to deal with all of coverage of the 10 year anniversary of that horrible day.
My stomach is churning and I feel nauseous.
My eyes are brimming with tears that I'm trying very hard to hold back.

I cannot watch those buildings fall one more time.
I cannot re-live that day.

And yet, I can't help myself.

Everything about that morning is engraved into my brain.
Jim stayed late that morning, for some unknown reason.
I had sent the kids off to school and was reading the paper and watching "Good Morning America", when ABC News broke in.
I watched the report and wondered what the heck had happened .... what kind of plane had hit the building?  Was it a small plane and the pilot had had a heart attack?  It seemed so surreal.

Jim was out in the garage.  I think he may have been getting ready to leave, but I went out and told him that something was going wrong in NYC .... the city that we had just retuned from one week earlier, the city that has always held a special place in my heart.   I told him that a plane had hit the World Trade Center.  He followed me back into the kitchen and we stood there, side by side, as we watched that second plane fly into the camera shot .... and into the second building.

I'll never forget that day.

I remember going to the boys' elementary school when I knew they'd be heading to lunch.  I had no idea what they knew or did not know.  I had no idea what kind of emotional state my children would be in.
I walked into the lunch room and saw Son #3 sitting happily at his table, laughing and having fun with his classmates.
He did not know.
None of the kids knew anything.  Thankfully.
The administrators and teachers had decided to make the day as normal as the day before.
At least until their parents picked them up.

I went to sit beside him and it was all I could do to not grab him up and hug him fiercely to my chest.  I watched him for a while and then I looked up .... and caught the glance of another mom two tables over.  We looked at each other with hearts full of relief and sorrow .... and eyes full of tears.  And then I started looking around the cafeteria and saw that there were many moms sitting in there, watching their children and looking as shell shocked as I felt.  We caught each other's eyes .... and nodded that, yes .... it was a terrible day and we could think of no other place to be.

I cannot go back to that morning.
I cannot go back to watching those planes hit .... over and over and over and over again.
I cannot watch those buildings burn, those people jump .... those buildings fall.
Buildings that Daughter #1 and I had just had dinner in months before ..... at the Top of the World.  We watched the sun set.  We enjoyed the service.  I could only picture all of those people who worked at that restaurant .... and imagine what their families were going through that day.

I cannot go back to those dark days that followed.  Days when the only thing on TV was the crashing of those planes, the falling of those buildings, .... the horror of the people on the streets of NYC, watching .... crying .... running .... in terror.

No, I did not suffer nearly as much as thousands of other wives, mothers, sisters, husbands, fathers, sons .... the list goes on and on.
No, I did not suffer one iota of the amount that a widow I know did.  Her husband died that day, in those buildings.
I cannot imagine having to re-live my husband's death every time a television was turned on.
I cannot imagine having to share such a horrific moment in my life .... with the rest of the world.

I am still as full or sorrow about those attacks as I was that day.
And I wish that I could adequately say something that would honor all of those people, and all of their loved ones who will again be reminded, as if they had to be reminded, of the horror of that day .... and the days that followed.

I don't know if I feel this way because of Jim's death, but I don't really think so.
Maybe his death intensifies what I feel.
Maybe I feel his absence in the sorrow of those memories.
Maybe.

So, in knowing that I can't go through that again .... I will not be watching any of it.
I hope that I'm not dismissing anyone else's emotions, feelings, memories .... or losses of that day.
I don't mean to do that.
I just know myself a little better now .... 10 years later.
And I have grown older .... in many, many ways since then.

My heart breaks for all of the loved ones who will be remembering that day .... and feeling the waves that such an "anniversary" brings.
I send them love, strength and peace through my thoughts of them.
And that's all I can do.

I wish it were enough.

Just When You Thought You Were Having Fun ....

.... life comes and smacks you right between the eyes.
And it hurts.

Camp Widow was great. And fun.
And hard. And sad.
And emotional. And physical.
And .... wonderful.

It is an amazing experience to be amongst almost 300 people who understand.
And as amazing as that feels,, it sucks for them.
I love so many of these men and women. It breaks my heart that they have a reason to be in the same room with me, let alone the same hotel .... and conference.

The group of us that have been to all three CWs are a tight-knit bunch. And yet it was wonderful to meet other friends for the first time IRL*.
And wonderful to make brand new friends.

But it was horrible to find out that many of these new friends have been widowed for less than a year.
Much less.
One amazing person was only one month "out".**
There was no way I would've been capable of attending anything, let alone flying across the country to join 300 widows/ers for a weekend.

I had the blessing of meeting a lot of the new "campers" when I co-led the "First Time Campers" workshop. We had a lot of fun, which I think many of them found surprising. We laughed.
We laughed a lot.
I think some of them had not laughed that much in a very long time.
They blessed me.

I slept very little over the weekend, so I felt exhausted a lot of the time, and I only worked a fraction of what the other board members worked.
But by the middle of the afternoon on Saturday, I needed a break.
Desperately.
Or I knew the dam would burst.

And so I left the hotel and walked along the pier for an hour or so. By myself.
I've always been part introvert, so I have always needed to find some time to just "be". And that seems to occur more since Jim died. Probably because I'm alone much more than I'm with other people. Especially 275 or so people.

But the walk did a world of good and when I came back I found a group of friends out by the poolside bar. And we sat and talked.
And talked.
And talked.
Until it was time to go in and get all gussied up for the banquet.
I brought a beautiful red dress that Daughter #1 wore when she was in high school. I wonder if she'll ever find out?!

When I tried it on at home several weeks ago it took a bit of effort to get the back zipper up.
(Another sucky thing about being alone .... there's no one to help with zippers. Or, even worse, bracelets. I kid you not, one morning, not so long ago,  I was going through the McDonald's drive through and I asked the startled woman at the window if she'd clasp my bracelet for me and then stuck my arm out of my window .... and into hers.
She was very gracious.
And I am not proud.

Anyway, it took a whole lot longer to get that dang zipper zipped Saturday night.
But I triumphed over it .... finally, and put on a pair of the fiercest heels I've ever owned (I'll post pics later, but if you're on Facebook you'll be able to see the dress and the shoes.)
They were a hit. :)

And then it was all over. And we were hugging and saying our goodbyes on Sunday morning.

And then I came home.
To life.
The Sons were all fine and the house was in good shape.
Son #1 and I talked while I started the dreaded act of unpacking.
Then Son #2 came home and sat with us.
He was shortly followed by Son #3.
I was happy to see each of them.
I had missed them. A lot.

Then it was time to go to bed.
Since it was after midnight.
And so I did.
But as exhausted as I was, sleep did not come.
I finally gave up at 4:30 and took a sleep med to help.

And it did.
I slept until noon.
Which would have been really great, had I not forgotten that I was supposed to play tennis at 9:00 a.m. Meaning that I left 7 people in the lurch. I felt beyond horrible when I figured it out. I sent all 7 an apology email, asking for forgiveness. Three have answered to assure me that it was ok and to not worry about it. Which hopefully doesn't mean that the other four are too mad to email back.

After I sent that email I went to my Facebook page.
And saw I had a private message.
And that's when life slapped me.
Hard.
I found out that a dear friend, whom I love very much, is here in Houston.
At MD Anderson..
This friend is one of the reasons that Son #1 is named what he's named. She was responsible for setting Jim and me up for our first date.

She fought breast cancer very, very hard over 10 years ago.
And she beat it.
And remained cancer-free for enough years to be called "well".
Almost.
She was just months shy of that magical 10 year mark when she found out that it was back.
With a vengeance.
And that it would take her life, but hopefully that wouldn't be for some time.
This was a year or so after Jim died.

And now, she's here.
Fighting again.
And I cried when life slapped me with that.
Fortunately the friend who told me was also able to give me her cell number (thank you, H!). I emailed, texted and called, not knowing if she'd get the message at all, or if her husband would, or if it was too late to send a message.

A few hours later my cell phone beeped with a text message.
From her.
And I cried again ... with relief.
I had begged to come see her and she said yes. But I have to wait. She is going to have her lungs drained tonight, and is not able to talk.
She said she'd love to see me and will let me know when she's stable and can talk again.

I told her that I am praying.
And she said thank you .... and that she needs prayers, very badly.

And so I return to you, my Peeps, and beg you to join me in praying for her, her husband and their children.
I don't know if I'll be able to see her before I head to St. Louis for the transplant (I leave Wed and the surgeries will be on Thursday morning). But I hope to be able to see her after I get back on Saturday.

So I'm asking you for a lot of prayers this week.
For V, her son G and her husband R, as R's kidney is placed into his son's body.

And for my dear friend S, who's fighting for her life.

This all puts my achey joints at the bottom of any list. And makes me feel ashamed for even complaining about them and the lack of reief I'm getting from the new meds (which thankfully aren't making me sick at all).

I am blessed.
I love my children.
I love my family.
I love my friends, both old and new .... married and widowed.
And for each of you, who are not just Peeps, but are friends .... and loved ones.

Thank you, again.
And again and again.
You mean more to me than you will ever know.
You ... bless me.
Very, very much.

Thanks, Peeps, and happy Tuesday.
:)



*in real life
**the word "out" is used by widowed people to indicate how long ago their partner died. No one is ever told this,or taught it, it just seems to become part of your vocabulary when your widowed. Kind of strange, but interesting.

Twenty Eight Years Ago Today ....

.... we looked like this:

T.
A.
N.
W.*


*There Are No Words

A quiet event

Jim and Son #2 --- a few days before Son #2 got quite ill with pneumonia and ended up in the hospital -- November, 1992.

     Today was a good day.  I played tennis -- not as well as yesterday, but not as poorly as on Wednesday.

It's all relative.

But most of the day I spent with good friends.  

I love my friends.

I also decided to do this to our wedding bands, which I'd worn since the morning I took Jim to the hospital and had to take his: 

It's probably difficult to see what they actually look like --- iPhones, not so great as cameras -- but I put them inside each other (they fit perfectly together -- imagine) and then turned them at 90 degree angles.  I showed this to the jeweler (the one who should have, but failed to, send me a card) and had them connect them so that I could wear them on a chain.  They look much better in person.  

I don't know I did this at this point ---- I thought I'd wear them on my fingers a whole lot longer -- it just felt right.  I seem to be going with my gut a lot more than I used to.  I mean, I always have relied on that, but not as freely as I do now.

     So now my left ring finger is bare.  Except for the white line around it where my ring used to be.  And the same for my middle finger, where I wore his ring.

Another milestone.

Not a good one, but it's there.

Oh, and before I go .... Son #3 made the A team in football!!!  He played on the C team last year and his coaches said he had improved a lot (and I thought he played great last year!).  He was very proud ..... as am I.

As is Jim.

That's all ---- I think that's more than enough for one day.

What I believe ....

 ..... is this:
http://abcnews.go.com/search?searchtext=Chapman&type=

     This is an interview with Steven Curtis Chapman and his family after the death of their 5 year old daughter/sister, Maria, this past May.

I could not explain better how I have my faith and yet have questions and real human feelings.

P.S.  The cats hate the dog.  Well, George and Rigby hate the dog.  Colby seems to be saying, "Whatever." and puts up with her presence.    The dog loves the cats.  The cats stalk the dog.  The dog wants to play with the cats.  Rigby has been pouting since Friday night and won't come near me.  

Gabby is great .... mess and all.  I can't explain it.  Either you get it or you don't.  And either way it's OK.

7 months

This is Jim with Son #2 when he was almost 2.  He was a fish.

So, seven months.  Seven long and yet oh, so short, months.

Sigh.

I realized something today as I was contemplating this post.  I have discovered, after 7 months, that the pain does not "get better".  It will never "get better".  

The pain will always be there, in my heart and sometimes in every part of my body.  It will not go away.  The thing that changes, though, is that I learn to live with it.  

I think it must be something akin to losing a limb.  The pain of the loss is always there.  It never goes away ..... you just learn how to live with it.

I'm sure that's how it was for Jim after he lost his eye in a gun accident (in 2001).  He learned to live without it.  Every day.  The loss was huge and something that never "got better".  He learned to adapt and live differently in some ways.  But he always missed it and never, ever "forgot" about it.  Never.  Neither did I, but now I get how deeply he felt the loss, even after 6 years.

I think it's like having a chronic pain problem.  You either learn to live with it, and live in spite of it, or you give up and become miserable -- or you REALLY give up.  Some days it's a difficult decision.

I wish that I'd been given a choice --- the choice to lose something else.  I would've gladly given up my legs, or arms, or eyes and even ears.  As long as he would still be here and I could have him.  As long as I could physically feel him and know he's there ... no matter what.

I wish I could've chosen.  

I get lost ....

.... in this picture.  Very, very lost.

Not all of the time, but many times.  

It's my favorite picture of Jim.  I have a framed 8x10 in my bedroom; we have it in the family room, I have it on my computer.  

But sometimes ..... like today, I get lost in it.

     My plan when I sat down at my computer was to tell you all of the positive things that have happened to me since Jim's death.  Because of his death, really.  That was my plan.

The best laid plans ....

     I sat down and looked at this picture.  And the strong dam that I'd been trying to keep up for quite some time now (if you read &/or see me regularly you'd have to agree) began to crack.  Ever so slightly, but once a dam cracks there's no stopping it.  

I stared at his picture and then ran my fingers across it and told him how very much I miss him.  And the dam fell.

I had to get in the shower so that I could cry --- I have found it to be the one safe place to cry.

I should've stayed in longer but I didn't want anyone having to check on me to see if I'd drowned or something.  

So there you go.  Just when I start to fool even myself into thinking I have it all together .... I get lost.

I am lost.  And I am scared and so lonely without him.  I am scared of the future and of it not containing him.  

And please don't write about how God is here and I don't need to be scared.  I know that ... I really do.  But all I want to say to that right now is, "Blah, blah, blah.".  Is that horrible?  No, I think it's honest.  And so very, very easy for so many people to say.  So many married people.  

     OK, I have to stop crying now and blow my nose and leave my room.  We're going out to see the new Will Smith movie.  That will be good.  It will be entertaining and reality will be suspended .... for about 90 minutes.

Wish I could find something that lasts longer.

I hate this word:

Jim, me and the boys in Alaska

..... widow.
I hate it ... I really do. Why? Good question. So here's my response -- another question: What does the word "widow" bring to your mind? To mine it's someone who's much, much older than I am. Someone with whom I have nothing in common, other than the fact that we don't have our husbands. I think of a widow as someone who had her husband for at least 50 years. They had raised their children, played with their grandchildren, retired and then traveled. They enjoyed each other's company for a long, long time. Not just almost 27 years.

I don't want to be a widow, let alone be thought of as one. I wish there was another word that describes me now. Well, aside from the obvious ones: grieving, lost, not whole, hurt, surviving, etc.

Maybe I should conduct another poll --- think of another word. A word that describes my new station in life.
And good luck.

P.S. I'm supposed to post an easy recipe so here's the easiest one I know --- Peanut butter cookies ---
1 cup peanut butter
1 cup sugar
1 egg

Bake at 350 for about 15-20 minutes.

And no, you don't use flour!!

That's it. Have fun!!

Happy Father's Day, Honey.

Well, another first for all of us. Our first Father's Day without you. We didn't talk a lot about what the day was. In fact, we all voted to not go to church. Stop frowning. We couldn't deal with it. Not this year. Maybe not any year, I don't know. But we thought of you. All through the day. J & J took the kids and me out on their boat for the day. We had a good time. I missed you. The kids tubed and I thought how much you would have loved to have been driving that boat. And how hard you would've laughed when Son #3 flipped through the air 3 complete times before hitting the water on one of his blowouts.
And I thought how proud you'd be when Son #3 got up on skis the 2nd time he tried. He did such a great job. I hoped that you were right there with him, helping him stay up.
I also thought that Son #2 looks so much like you that it takes my breath away once in a while.
I had hoped that all 6 kids would be with me at the same time today, but Daughter #3 had to get back to school this afternoon. And Son #1's bus got a flat on the way back home today. So they were a bit delayed. I don't know when we'll all be together again. Maybe you could put a word in with God and make sure we at least get to spend time together over Christmas? I imagine you and He have lots of conversations. You always loved to learn new things so I imagine that you're learning quite a bit up there.
I tried to call your dad a couple of times but he wasn't home. But I left messages, telling him Happy Father's Day and that we love and miss him.
I hope you had a great Father's Day being with THE Father. That must be so awesome. Unless you're singing all of the time. I know that wasn't one of your favorite activities .... unless you were torturing the kids in the car with the "Frito Bandito" song.
:)
I still hate being here without you, but I think I'm doing better. I guess you'd be proud of me, though I'm not sure why. Maybe just because I'm still here. Sometimes I feel like I should be doing a much better job at being a mother. I miss your encouragement. I miss your unconditional love and support. I miss holding your hand and I miss laughing with you. A lot.
My heart still hurts.... horribly. I can't see an end to that. I wish there was some kind of medication I could take to make that go away. That would be a great invention. Maybe.
Maybe we need to experience the hurt so that we never forget the love.
As if that's humanly possible for me. Or the kids.
They love and miss you .... oh so much.
Happy Father's Day, Honey. You are an incredible father.
I love you.

I'm too tired ....

.... to post tonight. It's been a long day and tomorrow will be even longer.
I miss Jim. He should be here, running this. Not me.
He should be. Here.

With hope

This is Jim and Son #2, snoozing ..... again. In 1993.

I heard another song today. Unfortunately, the reason I heard it is because of the tragedy in Steven Curtis Chapman's family. His 5 year old daughter was killed yesterday. So when I got in the car this morning the radio station was talking about it and played this song, that he wrote some time ago, ironically. I thought it really fit for me and my children, too.

"With Hope"

This is not at all how
We thought it was supposed to be
We had so many plans for you
We had so many dreams
And now you've gone away
And left us with the memories of your smile
And nothing we can say
And nothing we can do
Can take away the pain
The pain of losing you, but ...

We can cry with hope
We can say goodbye with hope
'Cause we know our goodbye is not the end, oh no
And we can grieve with hope
'Cause we believe with hope
(There's a place by God's grace)
There's a place where we'll see your face again
We'll see your face again

And never have I known
Anything so hard to understand
And never have I questioned more
The wisdom of God's plan
But through the cloud of tears
I see the Father's smile and say well done
And I imagine you
Where you wanted most to be
Seeing all your dreams come true
'Cause now you're home
And now you're free, and ...

We have this hope as an anchor
'Cause we believe that everything
God promised us is true, so ...

We wait with hope
And we ache with hope
We hold on with hope
We let go with hope
-Steven Curtis Chapman

With hope. And certainty.

The girls and I watched a goofy chick flick today -- "A Lot Like Love". It wasn't that great of a movie, but towards the end one of the characters said something that made me pause. The main character was depressed with the way his life was going and his brother told him, "This is your life. Right now. It doesn't wait for you to get back on your feet."
It doesn't. It moves on. I have to decide whether or not to move on with it. I need to keep moving. Trust me, there are days when all I want to do is find an exit. I hope those days grow fewer and fewer. I am told they will, but I've never done this before so I have no experience. All I'm told is to expect to grieve at least two years. Like I can put a time frame on my pain from having my heart ripped apart. I'm not counting the months ... just hoping to go from breath to breath.

I thought I'd share my pictures from the beach. The moon was incredibly beautiful while I was there. I took quite a few pictures of it rising.









I get to go to the beach again .... Cabo! Someone with a wonderful heart is giving me her condo to use for a few days. Thank you, L. I am looking forward to seeing white sand and blue water. And listening to the waves again. In peace and quiet. Which of course means that no children are involved. Another notch for Mother of the Year!!! Oh well.
As long as I leave enough money for pizza they should be happy. Or most of them, anyway. You can't please everybody all of the time.
If you don't believe that then you need to borrow six children for about a week.
And let me know how it goes. :)

Not much left

The girls and I got home today. I am ....... I really don't know what I am. One moment I seem in control and the next moment I can't control anything, especially my tears. I thought I did pretty well this week. I spent time with my mother in law, I listened to her; I told her how much I loved her and what a great mom and grandmother she'd been. I told her that Jim was waiting for her and it was OK that she was ready to go. She told me how proud she was of our children and how much she loved us. She was so glad that I came to see her to say good bye. I held her hand as she breathed her last breath. And then I felt numb. Again. And we went home and I picked out a dress for her to wear and got the rest of her clothes together for the guys to take to the funeral home. We went grocery shopping and cleaned up a bit. We went to the florist and picked out flowers for the coffin and I picked out flowers from my children.
And then it was time to go. And I had a melt down. I felt, and still feel, so much guilt for leaving. Not from anyone but me. I felt like I should be there with the rest of the family and go through this with them. But I also felt guilty for wanting to stay and thus missing out on Son #1's prom. He's already had the most sucky senior year possible. I haven't been there for him as much as I should have. So I came home.
I want to run away. I want to go somewhere where there are no progress reports, no bills, no teacher calls, no orthodontic
appointments, no people disappointed with me (in my mind) or where there are no people sad for me. I want to just go and sit on a beach and read and have no clock. I want to go somewhere where I have no mixed feelings about things like working, or participating in things or making appointments.
I couldn't even go to the awards ceremony the Houston CPA association was having tonight. They were giving an award to Jim. So the oldest 4 went without me. And I feel guilty for that. I feel that the last bit of strength has been sapped out of my body and mind.
Thank you K, for bringing food over for Daughter #1. Thank you A, for bringing the boys and me dinner tonight and sitting with me. Thank you both for thinking of that. I feel like I'm back to January and I can't function again. I don't really even want to function.
And I'm sorry for this morbid and depressing post. I wish that I could fake happiness and humor and make everyone laugh. But the writing is beyond my control. It just comes. And it seems that I have to let it out or explode. Or die.
If only it were that easy.

Life is messy

This is, yet again, Jim with Son #1. Having our first son was a lot like having a first child -- tons of pictures. And yet again, one of my many, many favorites.

I have heard it said that if you just pray for God to be in control of your life, and then are willing to accept whatever He wills, things will be just fine.

REALLY?!! You really think so? Some people make Christianity sound so easy and simple .... so neat and tidy. Well, I beg to differ. And I should know. When Christians make such trite (though well-meaning, I'm sure) statements, I want to ask "Really?! What the hell has ever happened in your life that would give you the experience to say that?" Because I think I can guarantee you that anyone who has had their life turned completely upside down, anyone who has had their life ripped out from underneath them, anyone who has been knocked to the ground --- no, knocked into a huge, bottomless pit, will never say something like that.

There is nothing neat and tidy about life or about following Christ. And just because we daily TRY (I say "try" because if you've managed to succeed at this then you should definitely write a book to help out the rest of us) to turn everything over to God doesn't mean that everything will turn out "fine". Sometimes you can turn things over and still end up in a pit.

I used to think otherwise .... "before". I thought my life was neat and tidy. It seemed to be, mostly (as neat and tidy as it can by with 6 kids). So I have probably said those trite things. And if any one of you have ever been on the receiving end of those words ...... I'm very sorry.

I didn't know what I was talking about.

I know that I have had a very blessed life ..... "before" and "after". I know that I am still being blessed. Jim was a wonderful husband, father and provider. He did a great job. There are many women in my shoes who aren't as well provided for. I thank God and Jim for that every day. I did lose my best friend and soul-mate and heart, but things could be so, so much worse.

I say this so that you will know that I do see that side of my life. It isn't always as dark as it once was. Not always.

I'm not sure why I wrote this post (heck, I'm mostly never sure why I write anything!). I guess it's just to say, please be careful when you speak. Especially when giving your views on God and life and "why".

Sometimes we will never, ever know why.