It's been 2 weeks, 9 hrs and 8 minutes since you left us. Supposively I am going to go through five different stages of grief, but I feel like I am feeling all of them at the same time. I can't believe you are gone. I refuse to believe it. I am angry that it is true. I would do anything for one more minute, for one more anything. I keep asking, "Why?" Why you? Why now? Why me? Just, fucking why?!
The past 2 weeks have been pretty close to hell. People ask, "How are you doing?" Knowing it's a loaded question; they just want to know that I am ok. That we are ok. What I want to say, is "Well, I am living in hell, my life is a living nightmare, other than that, doing great. I have seen things that I cannot unsee. I have heard screaming and wailing that I cannot unhear. I have felt emotions that are too much."
I wish I could send this letter to you and get a response back. There are just so many things I want to know; that I need to know. Things like, your final minutes, were you scared? Did you know? What were you thinking? I just can't get the image of you panicking, knowing what was happening, trying to fix it out of my head. The terror I have imagined on your face haunts me every time that I close my eyes. Of all people, I know you were ready to accept your walk with Jesus at any moment, but I just feel like it was a mistake, you were taken too soon.
Everyone keeps saying, "Thank God you have your children. They will keep you going." Yes. True. Especially given the light that they were supposed to be with you, Dad. But, I can't grieve with them needing me all the time. They are so little, I don't want them to know or experience such pain. I wouldn't wish this on anyone, let alone my sweet babies. I have to move on, make a routine, find a normal again, regardless of what I need to do to grieve. So, yes, they are right. I am so thankful my babies are here, alive and healthy. But, sometimes I don't need something to keep me going. Sometimes I need to stop. I need to stop and cry and scream and throw things. But I can't do that with my kids around. They say, "Take time to yourself to grieve." When? How? I have two toddlers.
We spread your ashes this past weekend. They were beautiful spots. But I didn't fully participate because I wasn't ready to do it. I didn't want to do it yet. I wasn't then and I am not now, ready to say goodbye to you. And now I have to do that without your ashes, because I wasn't ready yet. All I can think of to say is that I love you and please come back.
There is some greater purpose in this; I know there is, I can feel it. I have a haunting feeling I know what it is, but I want to be wrong so bad. I wish you could tell me, I just want to understand. I have had so much heartache in my short time on this Earth. I wish that God could just this once enlighten me so that it can take one small burden off of my chest.
I know we need to move forward, but forward means without you. I don't want that. Everything is now before Dad died and after dad died. There is a stark divide in our time, in our reality. Before & After. Every inch my kids grow will be a reminder of how long you have been gone. Everything, or everyone new, will be just that: new. They will not have known you. That breaks my heart.
Each day, I wake up, wishing I could lay in bed all day. I wake up, and realize the pain in my chest hasn't gone away. I realize, that you are still gone. I have panic attacks, because I fear that at any given time someone I love is going to die. Why shouldn't I think that? It has happened twice in two years. In more than not, the worst case scenario has happened in most aspects of my life over the past three years. Knowing these things makes it hard to breathe. It is exhausting constantly preparing for the worst. My optimism is dwindling.
I am treading the water, I know that somehow we will get through this. I just wish we didn't have to be here like this. I just wish you were here. I love you.
Tuesday, August 30, 2016
Wednesday, May 4, 2016
The Wedding
I hate blogs that sugar coat everything and as you are reading them you are both envious of their "perfect" life and then also skeptical that it is all real. I have also been trying to figure out what I want to do with this blog space - I love to write. In fact, I have been working on a book. It is probably shit, but it is fun and who knows, maybe eventually I can make something of it. I love telling stories, especially about what happens in my crazy life. I especially like to write about my stories, because I tend to keep a lot to myself in the moment, because I can be an introvert in that way, but I still want to be able to share my thoughts and my stupid sense of humor on things that happen to and around me.
So, that still leaves me with a problem. I originally started this blog for when I was living far away from my family and friends and I was pregnant with Gavin and wanted to keep everyone in the loop of what was going on. Well, now there is facebook, and texting, and facetime and I feel like, why in the world do I need yet another space to shove my life in everyone's faces?! Well, I don't know...but I kind of like that I do have this here, so I guess I need to think of something or some reason to keep it going?
Anyways, back to the whole sugar coating and skepticism part. I am trying to catch up and cover the "big" events over the last year. And obviously, our wedding was a big part of last year. It was one of the best days I have ever had in my entire life. Hands down. I have SO many amazing memories that I literally can still smile/laugh/cry about when I think of them. I love scrolling through the pictures of that day, well, most of them ;) I love that a big part of the day was "undocumented" so that it only lives in our memories. I love how every time I talk about it with friends, I learn or remember something new about that day/night/weekend. I love that it brought together all of my mom's side of the family, and that I got to have one last hug with my Uncle who later passed away. I love that the entire planning of the wedding was practically zero stress. I knew what I wanted, and knew what I didn't and it was as easy as that. I had great help, and amazing support! I love that all of my closest girl friends were there with me and that despite all their differences in personality, preferences and backgrounds, we all get a long great and have a BLAST.
That is the truth. I don't feel like it is sugar coated. Not one bit. But it doesn't include everything. It doesn't include the fact that the year leading up to the big day was hands down the most challenging year of marriage we have had yet. We had SO much change in our first two years of being home. Obviously the tear drop in the pond was Kathy passing away, and then every ripple that came from that seemed to be harder and bigger than the last. There were nights when I would laugh/ugly cry at the fact that I was planning a wedding. It was literally laughable. How hard things were, and I was planning a wedding? What the...
It was around this time when I saw a saying about marriage floating around on facebook. About how marriage is ugly. And I needed that. I knew that my variation about that were going to be my new wedding "vows." So I re wrote it and changed it. I knew I wouldn't ever be able to read it without crying too much the day of, so I had my dad read it. Which, made it that much more special. My parents were aware of how much I was struggling with just everything that was happening in life at the time, and what I didn't tell them, they could sense. But it was important for me to let them know too, that marriage is hard and some times it sucks a bag of dicks, but it is SO worth it and it is WORTH fighting for. Marriage is so much more...
"Marriage is ugly, you see the absolute worst in someone. You see them when they’re mad, sad, being stubborn, when they’re so unlovable they make you throw things or turn into a passive aggressive monster. But you also get to see them when they are laughing so hard tears run down their face and they can’t breathe and start to wheeze which just makes it worse.
Marriage is not beautiful, it is so much more."
So, that still leaves me with a problem. I originally started this blog for when I was living far away from my family and friends and I was pregnant with Gavin and wanted to keep everyone in the loop of what was going on. Well, now there is facebook, and texting, and facetime and I feel like, why in the world do I need yet another space to shove my life in everyone's faces?! Well, I don't know...but I kind of like that I do have this here, so I guess I need to think of something or some reason to keep it going?
Anyways, back to the whole sugar coating and skepticism part. I am trying to catch up and cover the "big" events over the last year. And obviously, our wedding was a big part of last year. It was one of the best days I have ever had in my entire life. Hands down. I have SO many amazing memories that I literally can still smile/laugh/cry about when I think of them. I love scrolling through the pictures of that day, well, most of them ;) I love that a big part of the day was "undocumented" so that it only lives in our memories. I love how every time I talk about it with friends, I learn or remember something new about that day/night/weekend. I love that it brought together all of my mom's side of the family, and that I got to have one last hug with my Uncle who later passed away. I love that the entire planning of the wedding was practically zero stress. I knew what I wanted, and knew what I didn't and it was as easy as that. I had great help, and amazing support! I love that all of my closest girl friends were there with me and that despite all their differences in personality, preferences and backgrounds, we all get a long great and have a BLAST.
It was around this time when I saw a saying about marriage floating around on facebook. About how marriage is ugly. And I needed that. I knew that my variation about that were going to be my new wedding "vows." So I re wrote it and changed it. I knew I wouldn't ever be able to read it without crying too much the day of, so I had my dad read it. Which, made it that much more special. My parents were aware of how much I was struggling with just everything that was happening in life at the time, and what I didn't tell them, they could sense. But it was important for me to let them know too, that marriage is hard and some times it sucks a bag of dicks, but it is SO worth it and it is WORTH fighting for. Marriage is so much more...
"Marriage is ugly, you see the absolute worst in someone. You see them when they’re mad, sad, being stubborn, when they’re so unlovable they make you throw things or turn into a passive aggressive monster. But you also get to see them when they are laughing so hard tears run down their face and they can’t breathe and start to wheeze which just makes it worse.
You see them when the world is asleep except for you two, and
you’re watching sappy videos on the internet embarrassingly crying together, or
I mean both having something stuck in your eye.
It’s sacrifice, it’s working long hours, it’s going to war,
it’s waiting at home, It’s those spine shivers when you think they aren’t
watching, It’s snorting while laughing, it’s the curse words whispered under
your breath, it’s the tears when it feels like it’s all crashing down, it’s the
“full moons”, it’s the crazy hair and coffee-breath, it’s the dark circles
under your eyes, it’s immeasurable loss, and unbearable grieving, it’s the wonder
of new life and the indescribable joy.
Marriage isn’t beautiful, but it is amazing.
It’s knowing that someone loves you so much they vowed to
love you at your worst, when you least deserve it. It’s knowing that they are
on your side and have your back no matter what. It’s being safe and at home in
their embrace. It’s the comfort of their familiar smell, and touch.
It's fights over stupid things, like someone not doing the
dishes or picking up after themselves. Its nights where you fall asleep angry
and wake up angrier, it’s the silent treatment, and the never-ending talking. And
it’s those nights that you fall asleep in each others arms, feeling like there
will never be enough time with them. It’s wishing you met them sooner to have
had that much more time together, It’s making them soup when they are sick, or
just rubbing their back when they’re sore. It’s the most perplexing, hardest
most rewarding job there is. Because at the end of the day you get to look them
in the eye tell your best friend, the weirdest, most annoying, loving, caring, silliest,
funniest, perfect person you know, that “I love you, and you are mine.”
Marriage is not beautiful, it is so much more."
Monday, April 18, 2016
This One is For You, Sadie!
Here I am! I am back! I am alive ;)
How do you even start a blog post after ONE ENTIRE YEAR!? I mean, K is two, G is four, how in the world can I fit in the last year to one post? Hmm...
(brb, going to refresh myself on what I last wrote. Also, side note, after the "RePhresh" commericals, I have to correct myself spelling the word "refresh" every single time. It's pathetic)
Okay, so, we left off with the Christmas vacation from almost hell. But, you guys, if I had ONLY known. If I had ONLY known, just how much worse it could have gotten... So, fast forward 11 months, it's now Thanksgiving of 2015. We planned, much earlier on, for another trip to North Carolina. We were prepared, it was going to be great! The timing wasn't the best, as my brother-in-law was still finishing up a field exercise and we weren't quite sure when he would be able come home to join us but alas, it was still just as nice to visit with his wife and of course play with cousin Alma! We got in later in the afternoon the first day and had time for a really quick visit to say hi and then retired to our rooms at the hotel. We all went to sleep, relatively well considering we have two toddlers that aren't the best sleepers. I woke up to K starting to cry and then the sound of choke/coughing/gagging. She was throwing up, everywhere. I have NEVER until this point in my motherhood experience had a puking child. Call it fate, call it whatever, but never have I had to deal with vomit or even diarrhea that wasn't in a diaper.
It was milky and it was chunky but most disgutingly it was all over the sheets, pillows and floor in a stuffy motel room that our entire family was sharing. It was horrible. K threw up once, I got her changed and bathed and she was seemingly fine? Fell right back to sleep like nothing happened. (my nose knew otherwise)
I felt so bad for the housekeeping, I tried to ball up the soiled linens and set them by the door. I gave lots of warnings in the morning. She was the sweetest lady and just wanted to make sure our baby felt better.
So, reluctantly we went over to our family's house and just kept an eye on her. I hated the idea of spreading germs, but at this point, we had all been in close proximity to her, and I wasn't about to fly across the US to be stuck in a hotel room (unless it was absolutely necessary of course). She was fine the rest of the day. Didn't eat much, but she tends to do that anyways. I thought it was the milk she had, (I mean, it is the south...) so I threw it away and bought another. We were completely fine the next night.
But then, the night after next, shit hit the fan. No, vomit hit it. It hit us all, all of except Ryan. G was puking, K was puking, I was puking. Poor G hasn't ever thrown up before, and he is old enough to want to know what the hell is happening to his body. He was a mess. Ryan was gagging at the smell, I wanted to die. K was happy go lucky until she was releasing the sour milk smelling vomit our of her mouth. There was crying from Gavin, "GET ME TO A TOILET, WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME!!!!" There was running back and forth to the one and only CONNECTED bathroom that opens right up into the room was are all SLEEPING in. There was tears. There was gagging. There was the smell. I literally gagged remembering it just now.
We woke up the next morning like a train full of hobos hit our room. We smelled like a hobo. We looked like one. And at that point, I wish I was one. The kids, they were totally fine. It was like what had happened last night, that nightmare, was just that, a nightmare. Like it didn't even happen. But it did folks. It did.
I didn't even want to make eye contact at this point with anyone in the hotel, let alone the poor poor woman who was going to be cleaning our room that morning. I tried. I tried to contain the mess, but there is only so much you can do. I wanted to melt into a puke puddle myself and just flush myself down the toilet. But, we got the same housekeeper again, and either she is really good at faking it, or she genuinely felt sorry for us.
The kids were fine that day, playing like not a care in the world. We had Thanksgiving Dinner (some of us very reluctantly) and even though I had a mild upset tummy, thought were in the clear.
NEVER THINK YOU ARE IN THE CLEAR.
K threw up again that night, but only once. Such a weird bug that we caught, I remember thinking. G seemed to be fine. Well, we woke up the next morning, Black Friday. We got lunch at Sonic, and on our way back to the hotel, in the RENTAL van, G starts puking. All over his clothes, and all over his car seat. Poor thing was just crying, "GET ME TO A TOILET. GET ME TO A REAL TOILET." He didn't want to throw up in the medium sized milk shake cup I was shoving under his jaw. It was RANK in that car. I had to wash his car seat cover in our bathtub.
Okay, so, how do you explain the car seat cover hanging in the bathtub, that smells like faded hotel shampoo and sonic vomit to the hotel housekeeping? You don't. You just leave a $50 on the pillow and pray she isn't too upset. You pray and you apologize profusely.
And that folks, is Thanksgiving 2015.
Another side note: We did have some GREAT family time and had some amazing memories made with our family, so don't be completely fooled, it did have silver lining in the visit! My sister in law is a gracious host and of course the kids had fun bonding and playing with their cousin!We flew into Raleigh, so it was a MUCH shorter drive than last time! My father in law didn't have his luggage lost! And Ryan and Jay didn't get the plague.
How do you even start a blog post after ONE ENTIRE YEAR!? I mean, K is two, G is four, how in the world can I fit in the last year to one post? Hmm...
(brb, going to refresh myself on what I last wrote. Also, side note, after the "RePhresh" commericals, I have to correct myself spelling the word "refresh" every single time. It's pathetic)
Okay, so, we left off with the Christmas vacation from almost hell. But, you guys, if I had ONLY known. If I had ONLY known, just how much worse it could have gotten... So, fast forward 11 months, it's now Thanksgiving of 2015. We planned, much earlier on, for another trip to North Carolina. We were prepared, it was going to be great! The timing wasn't the best, as my brother-in-law was still finishing up a field exercise and we weren't quite sure when he would be able come home to join us but alas, it was still just as nice to visit with his wife and of course play with cousin Alma! We got in later in the afternoon the first day and had time for a really quick visit to say hi and then retired to our rooms at the hotel. We all went to sleep, relatively well considering we have two toddlers that aren't the best sleepers. I woke up to K starting to cry and then the sound of choke/coughing/gagging. She was throwing up, everywhere. I have NEVER until this point in my motherhood experience had a puking child. Call it fate, call it whatever, but never have I had to deal with vomit or even diarrhea that wasn't in a diaper.
It was milky and it was chunky but most disgutingly it was all over the sheets, pillows and floor in a stuffy motel room that our entire family was sharing. It was horrible. K threw up once, I got her changed and bathed and she was seemingly fine? Fell right back to sleep like nothing happened. (my nose knew otherwise)
I felt so bad for the housekeeping, I tried to ball up the soiled linens and set them by the door. I gave lots of warnings in the morning. She was the sweetest lady and just wanted to make sure our baby felt better.
So, reluctantly we went over to our family's house and just kept an eye on her. I hated the idea of spreading germs, but at this point, we had all been in close proximity to her, and I wasn't about to fly across the US to be stuck in a hotel room (unless it was absolutely necessary of course). She was fine the rest of the day. Didn't eat much, but she tends to do that anyways. I thought it was the milk she had, (I mean, it is the south...) so I threw it away and bought another. We were completely fine the next night.
But then, the night after next, shit hit the fan. No, vomit hit it. It hit us all, all of except Ryan. G was puking, K was puking, I was puking. Poor G hasn't ever thrown up before, and he is old enough to want to know what the hell is happening to his body. He was a mess. Ryan was gagging at the smell, I wanted to die. K was happy go lucky until she was releasing the sour milk smelling vomit our of her mouth. There was crying from Gavin, "GET ME TO A TOILET, WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME!!!!" There was running back and forth to the one and only CONNECTED bathroom that opens right up into the room was are all SLEEPING in. There was tears. There was gagging. There was the smell. I literally gagged remembering it just now.
We woke up the next morning like a train full of hobos hit our room. We smelled like a hobo. We looked like one. And at that point, I wish I was one. The kids, they were totally fine. It was like what had happened last night, that nightmare, was just that, a nightmare. Like it didn't even happen. But it did folks. It did.
I didn't even want to make eye contact at this point with anyone in the hotel, let alone the poor poor woman who was going to be cleaning our room that morning. I tried. I tried to contain the mess, but there is only so much you can do. I wanted to melt into a puke puddle myself and just flush myself down the toilet. But, we got the same housekeeper again, and either she is really good at faking it, or she genuinely felt sorry for us.
The kids were fine that day, playing like not a care in the world. We had Thanksgiving Dinner (some of us very reluctantly) and even though I had a mild upset tummy, thought were in the clear.
NEVER THINK YOU ARE IN THE CLEAR.
K threw up again that night, but only once. Such a weird bug that we caught, I remember thinking. G seemed to be fine. Well, we woke up the next morning, Black Friday. We got lunch at Sonic, and on our way back to the hotel, in the RENTAL van, G starts puking. All over his clothes, and all over his car seat. Poor thing was just crying, "GET ME TO A TOILET. GET ME TO A REAL TOILET." He didn't want to throw up in the medium sized milk shake cup I was shoving under his jaw. It was RANK in that car. I had to wash his car seat cover in our bathtub.
Okay, so, how do you explain the car seat cover hanging in the bathtub, that smells like faded hotel shampoo and sonic vomit to the hotel housekeeping? You don't. You just leave a $50 on the pillow and pray she isn't too upset. You pray and you apologize profusely.
And that folks, is Thanksgiving 2015.
Another side note: We did have some GREAT family time and had some amazing memories made with our family, so don't be completely fooled, it did have silver lining in the visit! My sister in law is a gracious host and of course the kids had fun bonding and playing with their cousin!We flew into Raleigh, so it was a MUCH shorter drive than last time! My father in law didn't have his luggage lost! And Ryan and Jay didn't get the plague.
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